Under the Millionaire's Mistletoe by Maureen Child

Author:Maureen Child
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Silhouette
Published: 2010-12-06T05:00:00+00:00

Luke watched his wife’s pretty blue eyes as he searched for the familiar in her face, searched for the differences. Time was, women jumped at the chance of going to bed with him. Although admittedly he was a little out of practice. Still, appalled horror was definitely a first for him.

He’d dreamed of this woman. And granted, many of those dreams had been the product of delirium. Many, but not all. The others had been the product of good old-fashioned desire. He hadn’t known whether that attraction was merely the product of time and circumstance.

And he still couldn’t answer that question for sure. Different time, different circumstance and he could still feel the pull of the woman standing in front of him.

Who was this woman he’d married?

He recognized the irony in his situation. Most of his life he’d kept people at a distance and now he had a wife he scarcely knew.

He reached for the tendril of golden-brown hair that curled against her pale throat. She blocked his hand, wrap ping slender fingers around his wrist. “Afraid of me, Meg?” Her scent was something floral. Innocent. And distracting.

She dropped his wrist, lifted her chin and her wide clear eyes searched his face. Defiance overlaid a glimmer of wariness. “Should I be?”

He could still feel the imprint of her fingers, her skin against his. It had been like that whenever she’d touched him. “What do you think?” He didn’t know why he was goading her. He’d had scarcely more than a few hours’ sleep in the last forty-eight hours. All he really wanted was to lie down somewhere, he didn’t care where, and close his eyes. He’d come home, not knowing what to expect, but knowing she couldn’t have been as simultaneously wholesome and desirable as his memory wanted to paint her. Besides, he’d never really been into wholesome.

“I think, no.”

He hadn’t even known if he’d be able to find her. He certainly hadn’t expected her to be hosting a party in his own house. It tarnished the wholesome image, made him doubt his judgment and his memories. “You’re sure?”

“I think, for some perverse reason, you’d like me to be afraid of you. But the man I remember was decent and kind.”

He watched her lips, a soft coral pink. He hadn’t intended on kissing her. But her lack of recognition of him had galled. And besides, she had been standing under the mistletoe. What was a husband supposed to do? “I was sick. I wasn’t entirely myself.”

“Some things don’t change.”

Another first, someone defending him to himself. “And some things change completely, Mrs. Maitland.” For instance, he now had the wife he’d sworn he’d never burden his life with.

“I’m not Mrs. Maitland. I never took your name. It didn’t seem right.”

He didn’t know whether he was relieved or affronted. “Just my house. My money. My life.” He curled his hand around the newel at the base of the stairs.

Her eyes narrowed and her hands went to her hips. “You’re swaying, and talking almost as much gibberish as you were that last day on the island.

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