“Seriously,” he said. “Why do you hide that body?”
“Excuse me?” A faint flush of color filled her cheeks, and despite everything, Hunter was charmed. He hadn’t known women could blush anymore.
He tucked one finger under her chin and lifted her face to his. Those eyes of hers fascinated him even while he knew that he shouldn’t get even more involved with her. Wasn’t it enough, he thought, that he was married for a month? Wasn’t it more than enough that he was hot and hard and achy for her? But why shouldn’t she feel the same discomfort he was going through?
“You forget, babe. I’ve seen that body of yours. I know it’s got curves and valleys and some great…” He grinned and finished, “hills.”
She pulled away from his touch, and Hunter rubbed the tip of his finger as if he could still feel the cool silk of her skin on his. “So why are you hiding it?”
“I’m not hiding anything,” she argued, walking across the room to the dressing table. She took a seat on the padded stool, picked up a wide-toothed comb and dragged it through her long curls. “I just don’t draw attention to the fact that I need to lose ten pounds.”
Women. None of them were ever happy with their bodies, he thought wryly. Even Gretchen was constantly on a diet, and remembering her now, he realized that she was so damn skinny it was a wonder he hadn’t cut himself on her bones when he’d held her. Sex with Margie, on the other hand, would be a lush experience. All those curves. All that soft, smooth flesh to explore and enjoy.
He grimaced as his body went even harder and felt more uncomfortable than before. Shaking his head, Hunter walked up behind her and leaned down to plant his hands on the dressing table. He was so close behind her that his chin rested on top of her head as his gaze met hers in the mirror.
“Don’t you know covering up only makes a man wonder what’s under all that fabric?”
As her gaze locked with his, he watched her swallow hard before saying, “As you just reminded me, you already know what’s hidden.”
A slow smile curved one side of his mouth as he realized she was embarrassed. Would a liar and a thief be so easily discomforted? Interesting thought. “And that body deserves better.”
“Thanks for your opinion,” she said and slipped out from underneath him by ducking under one of his arms. Then she grabbed her purse and stationed herself by the door. “I’ve got to go, so I suppose I’ll see you later.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“What? Why?”
He wasn’t entirely sure himself. All he knew was that he wasn’t ready for her to leave just yet. She was watching him warily, and in that oversize suit, she looked…vulnerable, somehow. Hunter had the urge to somehow protect her. Which was completely unreasonable and he knew it. She didn’t need protection, he reminded himself sternly. She needed getting rid of. Which he would do at the end of a month. For now, though, she was his wife whether he wanted one or not, and they both might as well get used to it.
“I was going to go into town myself today. See some old friends.”
“Oh.”
“But I’ve changed my mind,” he told her as he studied the ugly black suit she wore. “I think we’ll go into the city instead.”
“San Francisco?”
“That’s the one,” he said and walked to the side of the bed. Sitting down, he pulled on one boot first, then the other, and stamped his feet into them. Standing up again, he looked down at her as she asked, “Why?”
“To get you some decent clothes.”
“I don’t need new clothes.”
“Now see, we’re arguing again,” he pointed out. “You won last night’s round, but I’ll win this one.”
“Hunter-” She stopped and frowned slightly as if saying his name had actually felt odd to her. “There’s no reason to buy me new clothes. What I have is perfectly serviceable.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” He walked up to her, tipped her chin up again and smiled down into green eyes that flashed with irritation and suspicion. “See, babe, you’re my wife. And my wife doesn’t dress frumpy.”
She blinked at him. “Frumpy? This isn’t frumpy. This is a business suit.”
“If you say so.” He took her arm, turned her toward the door and started walking. What the hell did he care what she looked like? His brain was shouting at him, but apparently he wasn’t going to listen. He wanted to see her in clothes that fit her, that showcased not just her body but the woman inside, too.
And just who was that, he asked himself as he stared into her eyes. Liar? Cheat? Or was she simply what she claimed to be? A woman doing a kindness for an old man? Hunter already knew she was strong. She stood toe-to-toe with him and never gave an inch, and he had to admire that almost as much as he admired the way she could set his body on fire with merely a glance.
“I don’t want to shop.”
He stopped dead, gave her a quick grin and said, “That may be the first time I’ve ever heard a woman say those words.”
“You’re not going to charm me into this.”
“You think I’m charming now? Last night you threatened to kill me in my sleep.”
“I didn’t say you were charming,” she corrected primly. “I said you were trying to use charm. Badly.”
“Ah, there’s the wife I know and loathe.” The words were out before he could stop them. And the instant he said them, he wished he hadn’t.
She pulled free of his grasp, and he winced at the fury in her eyes. “I know you don’t like me, but you don’t have to be mean.”
Hunter studied her eyes and finally saw more than her anger. He saw hurt in those depths too and regretted causing it. He’d been so busy concentrating on his own feeling of entrapment, the constant state of arousal, which he blamed solely on her, he hadn’t really considered that she was as locked into their “performance” as he was. At least for the time being.
And he had the nagging feeling that maybe she wasn’t the liar and cheat he thought she was. Even a practiced con artist would have a hard time worming her way into Simon’s heart, which she had obviously done. Not to mention what she’d pulled last night.
Building that wall of pillows between them hadn’t been the act of an adept thief. She’d behaved more like a vestal virgin trying to protect her virtue from a marauding horde. So what the hell was really going on? Who was she, really?