Love Is Elected (8 page)

"Your good friend Wayne?" he insisted suspiciously. She didn't reply. But the heightened color in her cheeks gave him the answer.

"I don't want you wearing presents from other men now that you're my wife. Please remove it." Although his voice was quiet, it held a note of demand that Kara resented.

"That's ridiculous," she countered, turning away to put her dishes in the sink. "I like this necklace. And if I want to wear it, I will."

Suddenly she felt his presence directly behind her, then strong fingers were at the clasp of the delicate chain. She felt the metal slide against her skin and the slow, sensual movement of Matt's mouth caress the sensitive spot at the back of her neck where the chain had been. His hands touched her arms, sliding silkily down them, the brush of his long fingers making her skin burn with awareness. And then his hand casually deposited the chain on the counter top.

Trembling with a mixture of anger and arousal, Kara tried to move away. But his hands shot out, closing around her waist and pulling her hard against him so that she felt the tense virility of his body pressed behind her. His mouth touched the nape of her neck again.

"If you want jewelry," he whispered, his breath hot in her ear while his hard thighs held her prisoner against the counter, "I'll buy it for you." And with that he brushed the offending chain off the counter top and into the garbage.

Shocked, Kara jerked herself free and spun around to stare at him in disbelief. "How dare you! What gives you the right to do that?" she flared.

Without waiting for a reply she retrieved the chain, turned on her heels and headed for the stairs.

"So that's the kind of man you are, Matt Jordan," she tossed back over her shoulder. Running to the safety of the guest bedroom, Kara slammed and locked the door.

Then she tried to calm herself. "I'm not going to let that, that… that man get to me," she insisted, trying to be as rational as possible. "He's not worth it. And the sooner I can get out of this crazy marriage, the better."

Kara looked around the room and sighed. The clock on the bedside table said nine o'clock. It was definitely the longest day of her life, and probably the most confused. She looked longingly at the bed, wanting nothing more than to crawl under the covers and go to sleep. But she knew that she was still too upset to think of sleeping.

Maybe what I need first is a hot bath, she told herself. Kara rummaged through the closet and drawers she'd just filled for her ivory brushed-nylon robe and a modest gown. After getting undressed and folding her clothing neatly on the chair, she carried the nightclothes and some hairpins into the bathroom.

"My gosh, this looks like something out of
House Beautiful
," she muttered as she eyed the airy, white tiled room with its oversized sunken tub and expansive skylight. Floor to ceiling mirror panels covered the far wall. A large potted plant was tucked in a corner, and hanging baskets of lush, green ferns lent an exotic air.

Then Kara pinned up her raven curls. As she bent over the gleaming ivory tub to turn on the gilded faucets, her eye caught a glimpse of a crystal bottle filled with pink liquid. Upon closer inspection, she realized that it was bath oil and automatically began pouring some into the stream of hot water. But as the scent of peach blossoms filled the room, she set the bottle down hard on the edge of the tub.

This is a woman's scent, she thought angrily—who had used it? A picture of the redheaded Vera popped into her mind. Was she the peach blossom type? Or had it been someone else? And what about the size of the tub? It was big enough for two. Was this one of Matt's playrooms?

All right, Kara, she told herself. Stop it. Whatever Matt's done is nothing to you. Don't let him upset you again. Determinedly she stepped into the scented water and settled her delicate body into its inviting warmth.

She closed her eyes, letting the soothing vapor of the bath float away her tension.

Ah, that's better, she thought, sinking a little lower into the water and putting her head back against the sloping end of the tub. But she had been relaxing for only a few minutes when she was disturbed by the sound of a door latch clicking. Startled, she opened her eyes to be greeted by the horrifying sight of the mirror panels sliding open. Matt Jordan emerged wearing only a short silk robe.

"I heard your tub water running. It sounded so inviting I thought I'd join you," he drawled.

"It wasn't an invitation," Kara spat out between clenched teeth, her eyes blazing.

But he ignored her outburst, his eyes lingering on the glimmering white curves of her body enticingly visible beneath the surface of the steamy water.

Hotly conscious of his sensual appraisal, Kara sank deeper in the tub, her fury now mixed with fear. "Get out of here," she cried. "You have no right to be in here!"

"On the contrary," he retorted. "I have every right. This is my house and you are my wife. It's time we cleaned up our act," he said, grinning as he sauntered across the room toward the tub. Bending slowly next to the steamy water, he leaned over and whispered in her ear, "This is our wedding night, you know. And I've been looking forward to celebrating it properly all day. I wouldn't have married you if that weren't part of the bargain."

"What do you mean?" Kara quavered, locking her arms protectively across her breasts. "I thought we had agreed that this was going to be a platonic arrangement." Despite herself she had to drag her eyes away from the tanned, muscular legs visible beneath the short robe.

"That was your idea, it was never mine. I'm a doer, not a dreamer. That's part of my campaign slogan," he chuckled.

Before Kara could reply, Matt's hand slipped into the warm water and playfully began to ripple the surface of the bath, sending tiny waves splashing against her breasts. Kara felt her face turn red as her flesh tingled. But she had no intention of responding to the pleasurable sensation and quickly moved to the other side of the tub out of Matt's reach.

"Making room for me?" he mocked, beginning to untie the cord of his robe.

Kara gasped. He obviously meant to join her in the water. She could feel her anger rising. The nerve of the man! Not only had he maneuvered her into an unwanted marriage and messed up her job, he was now planning on using her like all the other easy women in his life. She wanted no part of his plans and she wanted to make sure he got the message. She would douse his passions in a tangible way he wouldn't soon forget!

Her calculating eyes lit on the hand-held shower attachment next to the water faucets. Scooting forward, she grabbed the attachment with her right hand, aimed it at Matt, and turned the cold water on full with her left.

About to pull off his robe, he was hit full in the abdomen by the cold needle-sharp spray. He shouted in astonishment, but his surprise quickly turned to anger.

"Why, you little witch," he exclaimed, reaching over and trying to wrest the spray from her hand. But Kara held on with determination and the nozzle careened wildly, spraying the bathroom with icy water.

Before he was able to take the shower attachment away from her and turn it off, Matt was drenched and Kara's hair was dripping. Matt grabbed Kara by the shoulders, pulled her out of the tub and shoved a towel at her. "That was a juvenile trick," he grated. "If you'd simply asked me to leave with real conviction in your voice I would have. But children who like to play games have to learn to clean up the mess they make." Turning on his heels, he stalked out.

Dripping and cold, Kara stared furiously at his disappearing back. He was insufferable, and she cursed the fate that had sent her up to Uncle James' cabin. But a nagging doubt kept tugging at her conscience. Was he right? Had she handled the situation badly?

Her anger was stronger than any feeling of remorse, though. If he thinks I'm going to clean this up, he's crazy, she told herself. Let it dry by itself! Pulling on her robe, she stamped out of the room.

It was while she was toweling herself dry in the bedroom that she heard the phone ringing shrilly on the extension at the bedside table. Kara picked it up and was about to say, "Jordan's residence," when she heard a husky female voice whisper, "Matt, is that you?"

"Yes," she heard her husband answer.

"You've got to come over right away, I need you," the woman went on, her voice thick with emotion. Silently Kara replaced the phone on its cradle. She sat down on the bed and waited coldly to see what would happen. A few minutes later she heard her husband's muffled footsteps on the carpeted stairs, and then the click of the front door opening and closing.

Tears filled her eyes. He was spending their wedding night in the arms of another woman. She knew she shouldn't care. But, to her horror, she realized that she did.

The golden rays of sunlight streaming in the sliding glass door to the balcony awoke Kara. The warmth of the sun felt good against her bare arms, and she stretched lazily before her eyes focused on the unfamiliar bedroom surroundings. Suddenly it all came back—the forced wedding, the farce they had seen on the evening news, and the scene in the bathroom before Matt had rushed out to his late night assignation.

That
must
have been Vera on the phone, she thought, her blood running cold despite the warmth of the sun. Matt couldn't even stay away from her on our wedding night. But another dark thought crossed her mind. If Vera hadn't called, what would have happened? Would Matt have tried to force his way into her bedroom? she wondered.

Kara shuddered. But the shiver that went through her body reminded her of the disturbingly pleasurable sensations she had felt when Matt's eyes had traveled over her body, mirroring his desire. What would it have been like if this were a real marriage? she wondered. It would have been all right then to respond to a husband's exploring caresses. And he would have had no reason to leave his wife on their marriage night and seek out the comfort of his mistress.

But this line of reasoning was getting Kara nowhere. This isn't a real marriage, she reminded herself sternly. I don't want it to be. And I know Matt doesn't either. So there's no use considering what might have happened.

And with that thought, she swung her legs out of bed and pulled on the dressing gown she had folded over the back of the chair the night before. The thick shag carpet felt good under her bare feet as she crossed to the adjoining bathroom. Opening the door, she looked around the room. The water on the floor had dried, leaving no evidence of the previous night's battle.

This time I'm not going to let Matt Jordan surprise me in here, she muttered aloud, inspecting the mirrored panel and finding a latch at the top to hold it closed. But as her fingers reached for the fastening, she couldn't help giving way to an impulse to quietly open the door and peek into his bedroom.

The room was empty and the neatly made bed proclaimed that no one had slept there last night.

Why, he must have been out all night, she fumed. With that she quickly slid back the panel and turned purposefully toward the sink.

After making her toilet and pulling her hair back into a simple pony tail, Kara returned to her bedroom and pulled on her oldest pair of faded jeans and a frayed yellow T-shirt with the legend "Maryland is for Crabs" printed on the front over the picture of a large red crustacean. She'd picked up the shirt on a Chesapeake Bay sailing expedition several years ago. But now she rarely wore it unless she was planning to wash her car. She completed the outfit with a worn pair of jogging shoes. And then headed downstairs toward the kitchen. What she needed was a cup of coffee, she thought.