Married by Mistake. Abby Gaines
their lips met.
Like last time, he intended a brief kiss, one that would allow the cameras to get their shot.
Like last time, he found himself drawn to her.
Despite the crowd around them, he couldn’t resist the temptation to test the softness of her lower lip with his tongue. Her indrawn breath told him she was just as intrigued by the exploration.
The catcalls of the journalists pulled them both back to reality.
“Okay, folks, that’s all.” Mainly with the power of his glare, but using his elbows where necessary, Adam parted the throng and ushered Casey out the front of the building and into a waiting limo. She scrambled across to the far side, gathering her skirts about her to make room for him.
“Where to now?” Casey asked. The last half hour had passed in a blur, and she couldn’t imagine what might come next. All she knew was it couldn’t be worse than what had happened in the studio.
Adam’s half smile held equal measures of cynicism and resignation. “Our honeymoon.”
CHAPTER THREE
IT WAS TEN O’CLOCK at night—her wedding night— by the time they got to the Romeo and Juliet Suite at Memphis’s famous Peabody Hotel.
Casey—or Mrs. Carmichael, as the hotel receptionist had called her—roamed around the room, while Adam tipped the porter. The original honeymoon Channel Eight offered hadn’t included the suite, which Casey suspected went for several hundred dollars a night. But a standard hotel room wasn’t going to work for a newly married couple who had no intention of sharing a bedroom, let alone a bed.
Judging by the crowd of reporters who’d followed them from the TV station, and were now being held at bay by the Peabody’s doorman—so much for their promise to respect the newlyweds’ privacy—Casey and Adam wouldn’t be leaving the hotel in a hurry, so the bigger the suite the better. Casey climbed the curving staircase to the bedroom. The king-size bed was a sea of snowy-white covers and elaborately arranged pillows. Surely a real honeymoon couple would want something cozier?
There was a bathroom off the bedroom, in addition to the one she’d seen adjoining the living room. More white—marble and porcelain—offset by highly polished stainless steel fittings.
“Casey?” Adam called from downstairs.
Dreading having to sit down and hash out the legal implications of what they’d done, she joined him in the living room. How was she going to explain this to her family? How would she respond when they demanded her immediate return to Parkvale?
Right now, she doubted she could resist. The newfound backbone that had empowered her to seize control of her future had crumbled when Joe jilted her. She would get it back; of course she would. But not tonight.
“It’s late,” Adam said. “You must be exhausted. How about we get some sleep and talk in the morning, when we’ve heard back from Sam about the annulment?”
“Sounds perfect.” At least she’d married a man who didn’t expect her to solve all their problems.
“You take the bedroom, this couch will do me.”
Considerate, too. Casey wasn’t about to argue. She tried but failed to stifle a yawn. “Thanks, Adam.” She ran a hand around the back of her neck to ease muscles exhausted from the strain of holding her head high through today’s fiasco. “Good night.”
A knock at the door interrupted his reply. Adam opened it and a bellboy presented him with an envelope. Casey caught a glimpse of the words Private and Confidential.
“From Sam,” Adam said.
Thank goodness. Hopefully the lawyer had figured a way out of this predicament.
Adam tore it open. It took him only a second to read the contents. He uttered a half laugh, half groan.
“What is it? Bad news?”
He didn’t answer, only gave her a brooding look.
She stretched out a hand. “May I see it?”
He held the note just out of her reach. “I’m not sure you want to.”
In answer, she snatched it from him. And read Sam Magill’s instruction, etched on the fine paper in bold blue strokes.
DO NOT CONSUMMATE THE MARRIAGE.
“Oh.” Casey dropped it on the coffee table, her cheeks burning. “As if we were going to. That’s…that’s…”
“Ridiculous?”
“Exactly.”
“Sam is very thorough. I imagine he wanted to cover all contingencies.” Adam grinned, and that furrow of tension disappeared. “Perhaps he was worried by your enthusiasm when you kissed me at the TV studio.”
Casey sputtered. “I kissed you? You’re the one who heated things up.” The memory of his mouth on hers flooded back, leaving her light-headed. She clutched at the only possible explanation. “It was a rebound thing for me.”
That wiped the smile off Adam’s face. He looked pointedly toward the couch. “I think it’s time we got some sleep. Separately.”
In the bedroom, Casey discovered the reason why someone else had buttoned her dress for her at the TV studio. There must have been at least thirty tiny pearl buttons down her back, most of them beyond her reach.
She grappled with the dress for another minute, but it was hopeless. Peeking down into the living room, she was relieved to find Adam hadn’t yet gone to bed, he stood by the window, staring out over Union Avenue, deep in thought.
Casey headed down the stairs. “Adam? I can’t undo my buttons. Could you help?”
She half turned her back so he could see the problem, and he came to her aid.
Casey had never realized the area between her shoulder blades, where the buttons started, was so sensitive. The brush of Adam’s fingers against her bare skin stimulated a whole bunch of nerve endings. She shivered.
“Cold?” he asked, his tone impersonal.
Casey nodded, holding herself rigid to prevent any more of those traitorous shivers. But it didn’t lessen the sensation. She felt the release of each little button, aware that more and more of her flesh was showing. Warmth rose within her—was it possible her back was blushing?
This had to be because of that note from the lawyer. They’d been told not to consummate the marriage, and five minutes later she’d had to ask Adam to undress her.
“You can probably manage the rest yourself,” he said, his voice clipped.
She stepped away. “Thanks. I hope you won’t be too uncomfortable on that thing.” She gestured to the couch.
He looked at her for a long moment, then his gaze dropped to her shoulders. He said tightly, “Time you were in bed.”
DESPITE HER EXHAUSTION, Casey slept badly. All that subterfuge, her humiliation aired on national TV, the extreme step of marrying a stranger, and she was no better off than when she had left Parkvale on Friday morning. Her family would be frantic to know what was going on. But perhaps the worst thing was that she hadn’t even thought about Joe since he’d run out on her, aside from a brief urge as she left the stage to murder him by the most violent means possible.
That compulsion had passed, leaving a curious void.
It took no great psychological insight to realize how little Joe really meant to her. How could she have planned to marry him? She’d convinced herself she could give him the no-strings love she wanted for herself, when really she was using him to get away from her family.
In hindsight, she deserved to be dumped. Perhaps not quite so publicly… but she’d brought that on herself.
Casey allowed the