A Daring Proposition by Jennifer Greene Read Free Book Online Page B

to be repeated more than one time. I—”
    “Don’t,” she said tightly. “Don’t say any more.” She struggled inwardly to gain control. The images were all so easily there, brought on by his suggestion of sex for her sake: images of naked flesh and pain and the sound of crying.
    She managed to look back at him, finally. “If you want to call it off, I can certainly understand. We’re just so…different.” She hesitated. “For that matter, I have a little fuel to add to the fire.”
    “What?”
    “It’s Robert. He hasn’t long to live, and, well, he’s all I have. He’s got his heart set on seeing me settled. He isn’t around much, really—he disappears to his room most nights by seven. But I would have to ask you not to disillusion him—not to lie, but if you do cross paths, to simply be careful about what you say.”
    “You don’t think the illusion of newlyweds might be difficult to maintain with separate bedrooms?” Brian inquired dryly.
    “He hasn’t been upstairs in years because of his arthritis. There would be no reason for him to know that.”
    “Well, my mother and Robert sound like two of a kind. She’s not a person one can explain this sort of marriage to. You wouldn’t have to cross paths often, either—my family lives in Minnesota—but if and when you do, she’ll be delighted at the idea of you and the marriage and the grandchild. Home, children…you’re just the image of the perfect wife.”
    His tone was so heavily sarcastic that it almost made Leigh flinch.
    “Come here, Red.”
    Her eyes widened at the unmistakable command, couched in misleading gentleness.
    “Why?” she asked warily. She stood up again, but made no move to approach him.
    “Because I keep getting the ridiculous idea that you’re afraid of me. If we’re going to be around other people occasionally, I think we’d better establish the rules of the game.” In a few long strides, he had reached her side, grabbed her arm and propelled her toward the door. “Damn it, if you don’t quit looking at me like that… I like my women warm and willing, Red, get that through your head. We’re going for a walk. There are two million people walking around Chicago. Do you think you could manage to feel safe enough with me out there?”
    ***
    But they did not go for a walk. Brian drove the short distance to the Field Museum instead, and with busloads of senior citizens, uniformed schoolchildren, families and groups of teenagers, they stood in line to pay the entrance fee. It had become a sultry September afternoon, perfect for an outing, and the museum was swarming with people.
    When they were finally through the entrance doors, Brian scanned the massive lobby and its clusters of people with an expression of satisfaction. Loosely resting his hands on his hips, he inquired gravely, “Dinosaurs or mummies?”
    He was insane. “Mummies,” she answered dryly.
    He held out his hand, which she didn’t take. “People do it all the time,” he announced. “Fathers and daughters, brothers and sisters. I’ve even been known to take my secretary’s arm on the rare occasion we have to cross a street together. There’s nothing intimate about a hand. Five fingers—everyone has them.”
    She took his hand, more or less to shut him up. He was being insufferably patronizing, making her feel like an absolute fool for allowing him to glimpse emotions that no one had guessed at in years. And yes, of course there would be occasions in public when perhaps their hands would have to touch.
    His palm was cool and dry, and once his fingers had closed over hers, consciousness of his touch, his male presence, sent a shivering pulse all through her, as if she were connected to an electric current. Not meeting his eyes, she simply walked with him, aware that he was nearly a full head taller than she was, that there was a faint but distinctly masculine scent about him, that he had the sort of magnetism that made other heads in the