The Reluctant Wife: Chapter 1

‘Another espresso martini.’ I flutter my eyelashes at the bartender.

The man’s gaze widens; his Adam’s apple moves as he swallows. ‘Coming right up.’ His actions speed up. He pours the liquids into the mixer, then proceeds to shake it, adding enough oomph to his actions that I want to giggle. But I swallow down my mirth. Men are sooo predictable. He slides my martini across the counter.

My phone vibrates with an incoming call. I check the caller ID and make a face. My worthless excuse for a fiancé is the last person I want to talk to right now. I decline the call, slip the device into my purse. Then, to get the unwelcome reminder of what that call means out of my mind, I snatch up the martini and, raising it to my lips, downing it in one gulp.

‘Whoa.’ The bartender’s eyes bug out. ‘That was quick.’

‘I was thirsty.’ I smile and notice with satisfaction when his color rises. ‘How much do I owe you?

‘It’s on the house.’

I arch an eyebrow. ‘I insist.’ I don’t accept favors from anyone.

When he hesitates, I dig into my purse, pull out a few notes and place them on the counter.

‘Can I call you sometime?’ His expression is pleading.

‘My husband won’t like that.”

‘You and I both know that’s a lie, doll,’ a new voice interjects.

I glance sideways to find a man of medium height with thick shoulders and an even thicker waistline leaning against the bar. Catching my eye, he winks at me, a look of satisfaction on his wide features. Ugh.

Narrow eyes and a crooked nose, combined with his stout features and an ox-like neck, not to mention the gut hanging over his belt, give the impression that he might have spent all his time at the gym once upon a time but now has allowed himself to go to seed. He leers at me.

I stiffen. I draw myself to my full height, tuck my handbag under my arm and sniff. ‘Goodbye.’

I sail past him. I’m sure I’ve made it and begin to relax, when a heavy hand descends on my shoulder. ‘Now, just a minute. I haven’t finished talking to you, I—’ the man begins to say, but I turn on him.

‘Let go of me!’ I tug at his hold and must take him by surprise, for I pull out of his grasp.

I see the intent in his eyes a second before his features twist. He reaches for me, but I evade him, then bring my knee up and bury it in his groin. The man cries out. I pull back, and when he begins to clutch at his center, I pivot and elbow my way through the crowd of people milling around the bar counter in the direction of the exit. Only, my progress is slow.

The hair on the nape of my neck rises. And when I turn, I spot my aggressor gaining on me. The man limps in my direction, an angry look on his face. Oh, no! Adrenaline spikes my blood. Fear squeezes my gut. I turn and plunge forward, trying to shove people out of the way. This is when I wish I were taller.

My five feet four inches puts me at a disadvantage. ‘Please, let me through.’ I shove at the woman standing in front of me. She moves aside, but then I’m faced with someone else. ‘Excuse me.”

I shoulder my way through, only to crash into something so hard and so wide, I’m sure I’ve smashed into a wall. Only it’s warm and covered with cloth that smells of fabric conditioner. And below that, I can smell the unmistakable muskiness of man, laced with something spicy that makes my mouth water.

Then the thing turns, and I’m at eye-level with corrugated slabs of muscle that stretch a black T-shirt so worn with age, there are tiny rips in the cloth through which I can make out flashes of skin. The heat from this expanse of chest reaches out and crashes into me, curling itself around me. I swallow.

My mouth goes dry. My throat feels like it’s clogged with emotions I cannot identify. My head spins. What’s happening to me? Why am I reacting like this? I’m not going to faint. I’m not. I draw in a sharp breath, and that spicy scent intensifies. I sway and grab at his arm to steady myself. His skin is warm, the muscles under the surface turning to stone. It feels like I’m holding onto a pillar of strength. A very live, very vital column of living flesh. The hair on the nape of my neck rises. I risk a glance behind me to find my pursuer is almost on me. Argh!

I hook my arm through that of the man I’m holding onto. Then, for good measure, I push my cheek into that expanse of steel that passes for his chest.

‘Where were you, darling?” I cry. “I looked everywhere for you.’

The planes under my cheek grow harder, if that’s possible. I sense the surprise coursing through the man’s body. He grows so still that, but for the warmth pouring off of him in waves, I’d swear he turned to granite. I’m sure he’s going to push me away, but instead, he wraps his big arm around my shoulders and tucks me into his side. I fit so well against him.

The massive bulk of his body is comforting, and the scent of his very male presence is so arousing. I melt into him. For a few seconds, I allow myself to wallow in his nearness. I sneak a glance to the side to find my antagonist from the bar standing in front of me. He looks from me to the man next to me, then back at me. He seems confused. Taking advantage of his uncertainty, I pat the chest of the giant I’m leaning against.

Muscles jump under my palm. Ohmigod, he feels huge. So well built. I resist the urge to massage the skin under his T-shirt and tip up my chin. ‘This is my husband, and I warn you, he can get mean when he’s angry. If you value your life, I suggest you leave.’

Something that sounds like a chuckle reaches me. I could swear it comes from the giant, but the tension radiating off of his body indicates otherwise. I keep my gaze firmly on my adversary who scowls between us again.

He opens his mouth as if to say something, but the behemoth rumbles from above me, ‘You heard my wife. Best be off, or I’ll have to rearrange your features.’

My wife. He said my wife. My insides melt. And that voice? It’s like dark chocolate poured over creamy caramel with a bite of whiskey added. My entire body seems to catch fire. I shiver. He must feel it because he pulls me closer. And I’m too shocked at my response and too bemused at how familiar it feels to be held against him; I dumbly stare at my antagonist who’s gone pale. Sweat beads his forehead. With a last glance at the man next to me, he pivots and walks off. The crowds close in behind him.

Once again, we’re surrounded by the hum of voices, and the sound of the music over the speakers. None of which penetrates this strange thrum of awareness that encompasses the two of us. We could be alone on our own deserted island among this sea of humanity.

Then, something crashes behind the bar. It cuts through the haze in my head. I push away and the giant lets me. I turn to face him, standing almost toe to toe in that throng.

‘Thank you.’ I swallow. Then, because an imp of mischief pushes me on, I murmur, ‘Husband.’

I raise my gaze to his, and further up, and up. I have to tilt my head all the way back and when I meet his eyes, I gasp. A deep green, so green it’s almost black, but for those silver flares highlighting those emerald depths. So verdant, it feels like I’m peering into the depths of a lush forest. So intense, I’m sure I’m gazing into a swell of the Northern Lights that’s going to soar down from the heavens and steal me away.

I gulp, take another step back, and stumble. He shoots out his arm and wraps his thick fingers around my bicep. Electricity ripples from the point of contact. His eyes turn almost black, the silver sparks crackling and turning almost gold, which is how I know he’s experiencing the same level of awareness I am.

Then he releases me, and I miss his touch. ‘Thank you, wife.’

His voice is pitched low and has an edge of harshness that grates over my nerve-endings. I shiver again. I try to tear my gaze away from his, but it feels like I’ve fallen down a rabbit-hole and there’s no end in sight. My stomach bottoms out. My knees turn hollow. I sway toward him but stop myself before I crash into him again. I take in that high, intelligent forehead, that thick dark hair, which must be silky to the touch, the straight nose, those high cheekbones, which seem sharp enough to cut through glass, and then, that mouth. Oh god, that mouth, with the pouty lower lip that invites me to dig my teeth in and suck on it. Goosebumps pop on my arms. My stomach feels so heavy, and there’s a hollowness in the place my heart should be.

I’m headed for an arranged marriage. In three months, I’ll be walking down the aisle and getting hitched to my insufferable fiancé—a man I don’t care for, and with whom I have no chemistry.

The least I owe myself is to find out how it feels to kiss someone I’m so deeply attracted to. And if it leads to something else? Well, I can only hope, right?

If I can find out how it feels to be with someone of my choosing, then you can bet, I’m going to do it. It’s why I came to this bar in the first place, and I can’t lose this opportunity. It’s that thought which pushes me to lift up on tiptoe.

I grab at the front of his T-shirt and tug. I must take him by surprise, for he lowers his head enough that I can press my mouth to his. For a few seconds, it’s like I’m kissing a stone. Then suddenly, he comes to life.

He fits his big hand to the back of my neck, the other to my hip. He draws me in close enough that my chest brushes his, then he tilts his head and deepens the kiss.