“I just told you I do want you.”
“Sure, in bed.”
“Well, I’m a guy. Why wouldn’t I want you in bed?”
“Marriage isn’t about sex, Hunter.” Shaking her head in disbelief, she turned away from him and started walking. She marched across the bedroom directly into the oversize closet. “My God, don’t you get it?”
“Clearly not,” he said from right behind her.
She whipped around fast to glare at him. “If I stayed married to you like this, I wouldn’t be your wife-I’d be your legal mistress.”
“What the hell-”
“You don’t love me. I’m just convenient.”
Why talk about love now? She’d married him by proxy, and he hadn’t even known about it. She’d been willing to be paid to be his wife. Now she wanted love? What kind of sense did that make?
“Well, yeah, since you are my wife, that makes you pretty damn convenient,” he argued. “What’s wrong with that?”
“Is it all men?” Margie wondered aloud, shaking her head in exasperation. “Or is it just you?”
“Look, I didn’t come up here to fight.”
“No, you came to tell me how lucky I was to have been allowed to stay in this house and join you in bed.” She blew out a breath, fluttered her eyelashes and said, “I’m such a lucky woman.”
Hunter was lost. First, he was a bastard because he hadn’t wanted her. Now, he’s the bad guy because he did? None of this made sense to him. Why was she making this so hard?
“You know,” he said as his features darkened like a thunder cloud, “I-”
“Oh, and, I’m even luckier that the great Hunter Cabot is willing to accept plain old Margie Donohue. She’s no goddess, but he’s willing to put up with his disappointment in that area because she’s good with dogs and old people and-”
“Are you insane?” He looked at her as though she were, which only made Margie more furious.
“I should have known this was coming,” she muttered to herself as she grabbed the closest pair of jeans and tugged them on. “You’re an idiot, Margie. Just an idiot.”
“For God’s sake, you’re taking this all the wrong way,” he said tightly.
Inside the closet, Margie fumbled with her bra. “Some fantasy you turned out to be,” she mumbled, then shouted, “you are not the man I married.”
“You are crazy!” His shout was louder than hers. “And I never asked to be anyone’s fantasy. Just like I never claimed to be a damn hero!” He threw the closet door open and glared at her. “Why bother hiding to dress? Not like I haven’t seen you na**d often enough.”
“And that gives you the right to see me whenever you want to? I don’t think so.” Margie yanked a dark green T-shirt over her head and yelped when her long, wet hair got caught briefly. “I can’t believe you want to keep me around for sex.”
Her chest hurt, her eyes stung, but she would not cry. For heaven’s sake, the first man she’d ever slept with wanted her as a mistress? What did that say about her? His “offer” ran through her mind again. Stay married. Sex is good. God, she felt so stupid, so…furious. She’d done this to herself, too. Set herself up for misery. She might as well have walked into his open arms and begged, Please, Hunter. Break my heart. And he’d done it.
Worse, he didn’t even realize it.
“How could you think I’d agree to that?” she shouted.
“It’s not like I asked you to service the fleet,” he snarled. “I just thought that we could keep our arrangement going.”
“For how long?” she snapped. “Will there be a contract? Severance pay? Oh, will you set up a 401k for me?”
“Margie-”
“And what happens when you ‘change your mind’ again? Do I get thirty days to find a new place to live, or do I just get tossed out?”
“I’m not going to change my mind again. If you’ll just calm down…” His patient tone made her want to kick him.
All of her little dreams and fantasies were popping, just like the bubbles in her bath. They disappeared with hardly a sound, but Margie felt each one go like a crash of thunder. She’d allowed this to happen. She’d built him up in her mind over the last year, and in the last few weeks she’d done even more. She’d fallen in love with a man who didn’t exist. The Hunter she wanted, the Hunter she loved would never have made such a suggestion.
So, that let her know exactly what he thought of her. Which only meant that once again, Margie hadn’t been good enough.
He stepped up close, cupped her face in his palms and said quietly, “At least think about it, Margie. If you do, you’ll see I’m right. You love this place. You love Simon-”
“And I love you, Hunter.” The minute she said the words, she wanted to call them back. But it was far too late for that.
Instead of dropping his hands and leaping away from her, though, which is totally what she’d expected, Hunter only grinned, and the damn dimple in his cheek taunted her.
“But that makes it even better,” he said, sounding like a kid who’d just found exactly what he’d wanted under the Christmas tree. “You love me, so you should want to stay married to me.”
She pulled his hands down from her face, and her skin felt cold without his touch. But she’d better get used to that chilly sensation, she told herself, because she could never stay with him now.
“I can’t stay with you, Hunter,” she said, looking directly into his eyes so he would understand.
“But you love me.”
“Which is exactly why I want a divorce.”
Ten
The ballroom in the Cabot mansion was beginning to look like a party extravaganza. Decorations were already starting to go up, from banners to colorful ribbons draped along the edges of the ceiling to the linen-draped tables staggered around the room. Tomorrow, there would be multicolored balloons and fresh flowers from the Cabot gardens decorating the tables. The caterers would be in place in the kitchen, and the musicians would be tuning up in the far corner.
Everything was perfect.
So why did Margie feel like crying?
Could it be because of the gaping hole in her chest, where her heart used to be?
Three days since Hunter had made his half-assed proposal and she’d confessed to being in love. Three long days and even longer nights. Right after their little chat, she’d moved her things to a guest room because, frankly, Margie was beyond caring what the household staff thought of the marriage that would soon be ending.