Lovers Only. Christine Pacheco
she answered, before realizing how much she’d given away.
“And this suit...” He fingered the top button of her blouse. “Cat, you’re made for flowing dresses and short shorts, not uptight suits.”
“Clay, stop.” Rationally she told herself this was as threatening as his earlier words. And in the end she would be hurt just the same, maybe worse.
But in his usual way he’d trapped her as surely as he had any opponent. No way out existed, except his.
She couldn’t believe she was actually considering accepting his ridiculous proposition. A month in seclusion, at the small Rocky Mountain cabin his father had purchased, the same cabin Clay said he’d intended to use as a retreat. And never had.
Alone.
Clay at his seductive best? She didn’t know if she possessed the wherewithal to resist. “Don’t do this to me, Clay. Please.”
“Don’t do this to us,” he countered.
One of the lawyers pounded on the door again.
Clay clicked the lock into place. Then, before she recovered her equilibrium, he returned to her.
“If you walk away at the end of a month, I’ll give you your damned divorce. And the money. No questions asked.”
Did he feel the way her pulse raced? Did he know what he did to her?
“Look at me, Cat. And give me your answer.”
She looked up. Read the raw intensity he no longer hid. Noticed the dark shadow that bruised the tender area beneath his intensely blue eyes. Saw the evidence he hadn’t shaved.
Clay always shaved.
Unless he’d been awake all night.
As if totally in tune with her thoughts, he said, “Two nights.” Marginally he loosened his grip on her hands. “I haven’t slept in two nights.”
More incessant pounding continued on the door.
The tension elevated between Clay and Catherine.
She reached one hand to his cheek, tracing the stubble, outlining the determined jaw and finding the slight indentation—he refused to name it as a dimple-in his chin. Business was the only thing Clay lost sleep over.
Wasn’t it?
“I don’t know what went wrong, Cat. But I intend to find out. And fix it. If you’ll let me.”
“Two weeks,” she countered.
“A month.”
His expression lightened. He knew he’d won, but obviously didn’t intend to gloat. Thank goodness.
“Two and a half.”
He folded his arms across his chest. “A month.”
Clay stood so close. Too close. He filled her vision, her thoughts. Stole her breath. “But—”
“You said it yourself. It’ll take time to sort through what went wrong.”
“You want to spend the entire month at the cabin?”
He nodded.
“Is there a phone?”
“No.”
Her eyes widened. “You mean to tell me you want to spend a month with me? And no phone? No computer? No modems or faxes?”
“No television, either. And the nights are long. Plenty of time to become reacquainted.”
The corners of his mouth began to crinkle. Oh, Lord, she prayed, don’t let him smile. Clay’s smile combined with an engaging attitude was powerful. Overwhelming. Irresistible.
“Do it, Catherine. Run away with me.”
“But my business...”
“Isn’t Melissa still your assistant?”
“Yes, but—”
“She’s capable of running the shop for a few weeks.”
She sighed and nodded, admitting defeat. There wasn’t much else to do when faced with the power of an oncoming locomotive.
“I’m leaving Jeremy in charge of Landon Construction.”
Catherine worried her lower lip. He hadn’t trusted his younger brother, Jeremy, to water their plants when they went on their honeymoon.
“That’s how important this is.”
The memory of their idyllic honeymoon just served as a needle in the expansive balloon of his idea. Their weeks in sensual solitude had been as close to perfect as possible.
Hawaii had been beautiful—paradise on earth. Her new husband lavished all the attention of a devoted spouse on her. She’d been spoiled, pampered and well loved.
She suspected the same would happen for the next few weeks.
But then reality would intrude as it always did.
When the plane had parked at the gate at Denver’s airport, her husband had been a changed man, consumed with thoughts of making Landon Construction a success in a recessionary market. No one thought he could do it. Except her.
And he’d succeeded.
Admirably.
At the cost of their marriage.
As much as she wanted to believe things could be different, experience told her otherwise. Still, in order to win the war—her freedom—she had to concede the battle.
“Yes, Clay. I’ll go with you.”
He leaned toward her, breath fanning her ear as he whispered, “You won’t be sorry.”
She sighed quietly. “I already am.”
Two
“We’re here.”
Dreamland didn’t want to let her go. And she didn’t want to leave it, either.
A gentle hand shook her shoulder.
She snuggled deeper into her pillow.
No, not her pillow.
Leather upholstery. Soft and supple. She frowned. Became aware of unnatural silence. And the scent of...
Mountain spice.
Clay.
Her eyes shot open.
It wasn’t a dream. Or a nightmare. It was reality. A four-week reality with her husband. Her heart picked up tempo.
Maybe it was a dream.
“Clay,” she said softly.
She expected uncertainty to cloak them. After all, things had been tense when they’d faced down their attorneys. Mr. Dobson had insisted Catherine had lost her mind and that Clay must have issued a threat of some kind. Indignant, Jack Simmons had slammed a fist on the table and issued a loud objection, suitable for the actual court case.
Clay had taken her by the wrist, pulled her from the office and shut the door on the argument.
As he’d pressed her against the wall near the elevator, she’d expected him to lean just a bit closer and seal their bargain with a kiss.
He hadn’t.
She’d felt strangely bereft.
In her apartment, alone with her doubts and fears, she’d reached for the phone half a dozen times, intent on telling him she’d changed her mind about their month in seclusion.
The call to Melissa hadn’t helped, either. Melissa had eventually agreed to run the shop, but not until she’d voiced her opinion that Catherine was insane.
Catherine