Nothing Personal
Page 8

There was the always agreeable, prim and proper Faith. For a moment there he’d wondered where she’d gone when she’d turned into an oh-so-pissed-off bathing beauty. He’d enjoyed that small glimpse of spunk.
“I just wanted a quick dip, anyway.” With a turn, he cut through the water and hoisted himself out. He grabbed a towel from the stack and dried himself. “I’ve got some work to do in the office downstairs tonight, so I probably won’t surface until later. Leland will see that you get dinner.”
“Okay.”
Her gaze fell to the water, whether from disappointment or relief, he couldn’t tell. She’d made it clear she didn’t want him to stay, so why did she seem unhappy with the fact he was leaving?
“I tend to lose track of time when I’m working, so don’t wait up for me. I’ll probably come to bed late.”
He waited for his words to sink in, and tried not to smile when she lifted her head, her eyes wary.
They might not be having sex, but they would be sleeping together.
For some reason he wanted her as uncomfortable about the situation as he was going to be, for entirely different reasons, of course.
Right now, she looked damned uncomfortable.
Satisfied, he turned toward the house.
Chapter Five
Don’t wait up for me. Ryan’s words stayed with Faith the rest of the day and well into that evening. She paced the expansive bedroom, casting frequent glances toward the clock on the bedside table. When she wasn’t looking at the time, she was contemplating Ryan’s bed. No, not Ryan’s bed. Their bed. The one she had to share with him tonight.
She would not hyperventilate. She simply refused to let a simple thing like sleeping with Ryan cause her throat to go dry and her heart to run a marathon.
It was after midnight and still no sign of him. Did he think she’d just go to sleep, knowing that at some point he’d come in and slide under the sheets with her? Maybe it wasn’t a big deal for him, but it was for her.
For a woman who’d barely had a handful of first dates her entire life, she’d certainly made some major leaps in the past couple days.
It wasn’t like she had to have sex tonight. Their agreement was quite clear. All she was going to do tonight was sleep with him. Ryan had promised to honor her wishes for a little time, so there was no reason for her to panic. She should just relax and quit pacing a hole in the carpet.
Oh, right, like that was going to happen. The word relax wasn’t even in her vocabulary.
She glanced at the king-sized bed, its pale amber coverlet pulled back. Her fingers traced an absent pattern over the satin sheets beneath.
Okay, no sex. But still, she’d be closer to a man than she ever had been before. A man who was also her husband. A man who, despite her bargain with him to wait, she’d eventually have sex with.
Forcing her breathing to slow down, she pushed away the queasy feeling, chalking it up to nothing more than a simple case of indigestion.
She was being ridiculous and naïve. It was time to grow up. She’d agreed to this marriage. It really wasn’t a big deal. Besides, at twenty-six years old it was way past time she found out what she’d been missing all these years.
“What have you been missing all these years?”
She stopped dead in her tracks and turned to see Ryan at the doorway. His entrance sure made her breathing slow down. In fact, she was certain she’d stopped breathing altogether. Really, she must try to stop thinking out loud.
“And do you always talk to yourself?” He threw a stack of papers on the desk before stopping in front of her.
“Sometimes.” Wonderful. Not only did he catch her talking about sex, but out loud. To herself.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
Didn’t he ever look sloppy? Past midnight and he still looked fresh and oh-so-handsome. The black cashmere sweater accentuated the silvery glint in his dark eyes.
“What question?” she asked.
“What have you been missing all these years?”
“Oh, that one.” The one she hoped he’d forget he’d overheard.
Obviously not. “Did you get all your work finished?”
“Yes, I did, and you’re avoiding my question.” He slid his index finger down her arm.
Faith yawned. “Wow, look how late it is. I’m tired.”
He smiled. “I’m surprised you’re not already in bed. And you’re still dressed.”
After her shower, she’d been afraid to change into pajamas. Pajamas meant bed, and that she couldn’t wrap her mind around just yet. She looked down at her too-big sweatpants and oversized sweatshirt. “Oh. I was reading and lost track of time.”
“I see. Well, I agree with you. I’m beat. Think I’ll take a shower and get ready for bed.” He sat on the bed and removed his shoes.
As he headed into the dressing area Faith sat on the long brocade chaise against the wall, her head resting in her hands. How was she going to handle this? This intimacy, this sharing of personal space?
She paused as the sounds of running water and the shower door closing riveted her attention. A crystal clear image of Ryan na**d popped into her head. He’d be turning his face to the shower spray, letting the steamy water sluice over his dark hair. He’d grab the soap and lather his hands, then run his palms over his chest and lower, until—
With desperate effort she tried to push the vision from her mind.
Said traitorous mind refused to cooperate. And then she heard new sounds. Beautiful, melodic sounds. She stepped closer to the door and listened.
It was Ryan. He was singing in the shower, his tenor voice perfect and unflawed. What was that song?
Oh, God. No wonder it was so familiar. He sang one of her favorite love songs, his clear, beautiful voice loud and sharp despite the running water.
“Ohhhh, my love, my darling, I hunger for your touch, this long, lonely night.”
The haunting lyrics from “Unchained Melody” swept through her.
Ryan’s voice touched her as if his hands blazed a fiery trail from her trembling lips to her frantically beating heart.
He mesmerized her with his singing, capturing her in a spell. When he belted out “I need your love” at the top of his voice, her body melted.
Without thinking she entered the dressing area, aching to step into the bathroom and listen to him, see him, touch him.
She hesitated.
So what stopped her? She was his wife. What would be the harm in going to him, in allowing him to touch her, to let him take her in his arms and kiss her, hold her like she’d waited her entire life to be held?
To feel a man’s touch, to finally experience a joining so intimate that poets struggled to find words to describe it.
She made it as far as the bathroom door, her hand on the knob, ready to turn it and fling open the gateway to the unknown. Then she remembered her mother’s warning.
Don’t ever fall in love, Faith. Men only want sex. If you give them your heart, they’ll crush you and you’ll never know a stronger pain.
Even years later those words influenced her, held her back, made her stop.
And look at you. You have no beauty—you’re plain, just like me. Men will use and discard you like your father did to me.
She could already envision Ryan laughing at her. He was the picture of the perfect male. Gorgeous, intelligent, well-educated, able to pick and choose women of the highest caliber. Beautiful women, with social standing equal to his.
Instead, he had married his assistant. Not a glamour girl, or a socialite. Just plain and simple Faith. Not love, but a business deal.
She jerked her hand back from the doorknob and fled. As quickly as possible she donned her pajamas and retreated to the bedroom.
When Ryan stepped out of the bathroom Faith was sitting on the chaise. Her hands clenched the edge of the lounge like she was dangling from a cliff.
She looked terrified.
He’d never seen anyone so adorable in his life.
In her cotton pajamas with the long sleeves and legs and blue puffy cloud pattern, she looked like a frightened child. She’d pulled her hair back in a ponytail and chewed her lip nervously.
Ah yes, his calm, serene bride. The one with the death grip on the chaise.
Was he that imposing?
“I see you’re ready for bed,” he said.
She looked up, apparently finished with her examination of the carpet. She paled and looked like she might faint.
Now what was wrong? He had thrown on a pair of boxers instead of coming out of the bathroom stark na**d as he was used to. Knowing Faith’s intimacy issues, he hadn’t wanted to give her a heart attack on their first night sleeping together.
So why did she look like she was about to jump out the window?
“Are you all right?” he asked.
She nodded.
“You sure?”
She nodded again.
“Shall we go to bed then?” It was like a game of charades. And he wasn’t even being given hand signals for clues.
She didn’t nod. She simply rose from the lounge like a prisoner heading for the guillotine and stood at the end of the bed.
“Well?” he asked.
“I was waiting to see what side you slept on so I could get in on the opposite side.”
Ever the sacrificing one, wasn’t she?
“What side do you sleep on?” he countered.
“The right.”
Ryan slipped under the covers on the left side of the bed and held the blanket open for her. “Get in, then.”
With agonizing slowness she lay down, turned her back and balanced precariously on approximately four inches of the bed. As far away from him as possible.
Ryan propped himself up on his elbow and watched her try to get into a sleeping position. If he didn’t think he’d scare her out of her wits he’d have laughed. As it was, he was almost afraid to breathe for fear she’d bolt right up, or worse, fall off the bed.
It was like having an ironing board in bed with him. She was barely breathing and sure as hell wasn’t moving. And he could swear the bed shook. Was she cold? Or just scared to death?
At least he couldn’t take it as an insult for being lousy in bed. Unless criticism applied to simply sharing the space.
“Good night, Faith.” Ryan reached up and turned off the light over his side of the bed. And waited.
“Night, Ryan,” she finally answered, so quiet he barely heard her.
He rolled over onto his back and stared at the moonlit ceiling.
He wasn’t in bed with a sixteen-year-old, that much was certain.
Faith was old enough to know some things, even if she was a virgin. And it wasn’t as if he’d told her he was planning to attack her their first night together.
They weren’t strangers, either, so she should know he always kept his word. His word, in business, was as good as a written contract. And Faith knew that.
So what about him frightened her? Was it even him? Her fear was completely unnatural given the circumstances. He’d already agreed to give her two months.
Something else bothered her, something that made her so afraid that he knew if he suggested she camp out on the bedroom floor she’d have jumped at the chance.
He meant to find out what it was.
It hadn’t been at all like Faith thought it would be. The closer it got to bedtime, the more she’d hyperventilated. Why she’d been so afraid she had no idea, but it turned out her fears were groundless.
She had prepared herself for Ryan’s attempts to convince her to have sex. Okay, maybe she could have been persuaded, if she could avoid leaping out of her skin should he touch her.
But she needn’t have worried. Within twenty minutes she’d heard his deep breathing and knew he was asleep.
Then she’d finally exhaled. And tried to ignore the stab of disappointment.
What an idiot. First she’d been scared to death he’d touch her. And now, she was upset because he hadn’t? What did she want from him?
If only she knew.
At least by the second night she wasn’t as panic-stricken as she had been the first, knowing he wouldn’t be pouncing on her the minute she got into bed.
This time, she hadn’t balanced on the edge like a tightrope walker.
And she’d actually managed to sleep.
Good thing, too, because today they’d head back to the office, those first awkward nights almost a distant memory already. The rest of the weekend she’d hardly seen Ryan, only for meals and at bedtime. He’d locked himself in his office claiming paperwork, but she knew it was because he really had no idea what to do with a wife around.
At least they’d have work to do today. By the time she’d awakened this morning, Ryan had already dressed and left the bedroom. Whether that was his usual routine or he’d done it as a courtesy to her, she didn’t know. Either way she dressed and readied herself in a hurry, then went downstairs to find him sitting at the table, reading the newspaper and finishing breakfast.
“Good morning,” she said, taking a seat and smiling her thanks when Margaret brought her a cup of coffee.
“Morning,” he mumbled from behind the Wall Street Journal.
Now that was the Ryan she knew. The one who rarely looked up from whatever document he was engrossed in to even acknowledge her presence. Aloof, businesslike Ryan she could handle.
She rose to fix herself breakfast, but Margaret glared at her and told her to sit down.
The thought of other people doing things for her didn’t seem right, but she sat at the table. “I can cook, Margaret, and I’m sure you have other things to do.”
Margaret shook her head. “The lady of the house does not cook.
That’s my job.”
“But…” She was about to protest but stopped when Ryan’s hand lightly touched hers. He had put the paper down and crooked a smile at her, shaking his head.