The Marriage Of Inconvenience. Nina Singh
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make sense to dwell on the past. We got married way too young. Neither one of us was ready for such a commitment.”
The words barely registered. “Mmm, it was nice, though, wasn’t it?” Just for a moment she allowed herself to remember the sweet, not the bitter.
Nice was a drastic understatement for the way things had been between them. They’d had everything a young couple could want. Almost.
“We were good together, weren’t we?” She wanted him to say it, needed to hear him agree.
She saw something flare in his eyes and instantly recognized the familiarity of old longings.
So much time had passed, and she’d missed him. Her mind may have ignored it, but her heart had ached all the while he’d been gone. But he was here now, and he was so close. She could smell the sweet woodsy scent of the imported wine on his breath. His familiar cologne triggered long-forgotten memories in the back recesses of her brain.
Her gaze settled on his lips. Firm and full, the way she’d remembered. Would they taste the same? Would his skin hold the same texture and warmth it had years ago?
The pounding of her heart grew painful. She watched as he lifted his hands up to reach for her. What would it be like to feel his touch again? She knew the reality would blow away even the dreams she’d had every night since she’d last seen him.
The heat of his hands burned through her silk blouse as they settled around her shoulders, his touch gentle, yet strong. She moistened her lips and moved into him. All she’d have to do was reach for his mouth with hers. She inclined her head, mindless now, and ready to take what she so desperately wanted.
He started to speak, and anticipation assaulted her. He had to acknowledge the magic their marriage had once held. Despite the bitter and swift ending, despite the searing pain of loss, he had to agree that they had been happy together as man and wife once.
She wanted to taste him again, wanted his mouth on hers like they’d never been apart. She reached for him.
His lips moved. “Don’t.”
He said it in a strained, barely audible whisper, but the single word struck her with the force of a physical blow.
His command echoed through her desire-fogged mind, and she froze. Yanking herself out of his grasp, she turned away from the tightness in his face.
Shaking with embarrassment, she kept her back to him. Dear heavens, she’d just tried to kiss her estranged husband. And he’d literally pushed her away. “Perhaps you had better leave after all.”
There was rustling behind her as he stood.
“Angel, you don’t—”
She didn’t let him continue. “I’ll see you tomorrow, R.J. Thanks for taking time to come out tonight. By this time tomorrow, it will all be over and we can both pretend this never happened. None of it.” Was she trying to reassure R.J. or herself?
She heard him let out a deep breath and moved her head sideways but couldn’t bring herself to face him. He patted the sleeping dog, then made his way to the door.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” he said.
For one final time, she thought, and a sharp hurt sliced her heart.
TIME ZERO. AND it was going to be a very trying night. R.J. braced himself in the hallway and tried to prepare for the upcoming evening. Stalling, he was definitely stalling.
He squeezed his eyes shut. It was one night. How hard could it be? After all, it hadn’t been that long ago since he’d lived the part he was being required to play. Surely, he could act out a role he’d already experienced. So why was his head pounding?
Because he had no business even being in the same room with Angeline Scott. This was insanity, an affront to any sense of equilibrium. Hell, she’d tried to kiss him last night. How could she taunt him like that? Did she think he could be immune to her twice in one lifetime? For her own good, he swore he’d try to stay unmoved throughout this whole charade. He couldn’t toy with rekindling their affections. He’d tried too hard to stay away. Angel deserved better. Because of him, her father had severed all contact with her and cut her off financially.
And any hope that the man may have changed had been shattered last year when they’d run into each other at an international business symposium. Richard Scott had made it very clear that, CEO or not, R.J. would never be in the same league as his daughter.
R.J. knew Angel had no hope of reconciling with her father unless R.J. remained out of the picture. Then maybe she’d have a chance to regain all Richard was keeping from her.
She was the sole Scott heir. How could R.J. allow himself to be the reason she lost that? In fact, if it wasn’t for him, Angel would have access to all the financial resources she needed right now to ensure her company survived. But she’d lost it all. For him.
He had to make that right.
He also had to purge all of that from his thoughts at the moment. It only served to agitate him further, and he couldn’t afford that right now. Tonight, it was all for show.
He used the key she’d given him to enter the apartment. The aroma of home cooking and a bristling fire hit him as he stepped in. Sudden, almost painful nostalgia overwhelmed his senses. He had entered their studio apartment countless times like this. Back then the various scents from the kitchen had been more mundane. Usually plain pasta or some meat roasting in the oven. Angel’s culinary skills weren’t quite enviable at that point, but she’d tried and he’d loved the attempts. He’d loved her for trying.
Without warning, she breezed into the living room through the swing door of the kitchen. As she spotted him, the silver tray in her hand slightly tilted off balance.
“You’re here,” she stated.
“Just walked in.”
She set her load down on the cocktail table. “The Bays are set to arrive in a few minutes.”
He took in the snug fit of her feminine tuxedo-cut black suit. The form-fitting jacket accented her waist. The lace camisole she had underneath peaked at the V below her neck and practically screamed temptation. His hand tightened around the wine bottle he was holding.
“You can set that in the kitchen,” she ordered, and then moved with catlike grace to the mantel and lifted the silver candle set.
Without responding, R.J. made his way into the kitchen. This night was not going to be over soon enough. She’d always been stunning, but he realized that now she was in her element. He set the wine bottle down and braced his palms on the counter in front of him. Dark, thick clouds moved through the window above the sink.
The storm was moving closer. He would have to make sure to still the one brewing inside him.
This was why he couldn’t be around her. This burning need to touch her, to claim her as his. It was the same insanity that had nearly destroyed both of them in the past, when they’d let physical desire rule their better judgment. By the time he found out how mismatched they were, the damage had been done. The memory of that pain should have been enough to guarantee he’d keep his distance tonight.
He walked back out into the living room just as the doorbell rang. Angel froze in the act of lighting a candle. The fiery glow of the forgotten match threw shadows over her face. Her eyes sparkled before the flame.
He took her palm and blew the match out. “We better let them in, don’t you think?”
“I—I guess so.”
“You guess so? It’s kind of late to back out now, Angel.” He was still trying to ascertain just how far they had come and how he would manage to recover.
“Why would I want to back