Temporary Husband by Day Leclaire Read Free Book Online Page B

really quite trustworthy,” she assured, glancing around the suite with interest. “But since you don’t know me very well, I can understand your not realizing that.”
    “Thanks for filling me in,” he retorted dryly, taking her bag.
    Her gaze settled on him, the passion and vitality in that one look as powerful as a physical blow. It never ceased to amaze him how different she was from all the other women he’d known. How had so much zeal been bundled into such a tiny package?
    “You’ve showered,” she said, stating the obvious. “Would you mind if I did, too?”
    “Be my guest. There’s another of these hotel robes hanging on the door. Feel free to use it.”
    “Thanks, but I have a nightgown.” She gestured toward the case he held. “If you wouldn’t mind?”
    “I don’t mind.” He tossed the bag to her. “But you won’t need it. Not for long.”
    A hectic flush chased across her cheekbones and Jake regretted the crassness of his remark. There were times he felt like the proverbial bull in the china shop—and this was one of them. She gave a shrug that showed amazing sangfroid considering her obvious embarrassment, and crossed to the bathroom.
    She seemed so young and fragile from the back, her shoulders fine-boned, the graceful sweep of her neck highlighted by the short pixieish cut of her hair. He’d never realized the nape of a woman’s neck could look so vulnerable. A sudden urge to protect her gripped him. But then he realized the only protection she needed was from her husband.
    She hesitated at the doorway to the bathroom and glanced over her shoulder. “Oh, I meant to ask when I first arrived,” she said unexpectedly. “What’s your… our last name? I’m afraid I’ve forgotten.”
    His mouth tightened. “Hondo,” he replied, then stated with cool deliberation, “it was my mother’s name.”
    He couldn’t tell whether she’d picked up on the significance of his comment or whether she deliberately feigned ignorance. Or didn’t it matter to her? He shook his head, unwilling to believe she found his parentageinconsequential. The people of Chesterfield considered it of critical importance.
    “Hondo,” she repeated. A tiny smile played around her mouth and his gut clenched at the guileless sensuality. “Wynne Hondo,” she said, as though tasting the words. Then she laughed aloud. “It doesn’t fit me half as well as it does you. But maybe it will in time.”
    She shouldered her overnight bag and disappeared into the bathroom, leaving him to mull over what she’d meant by “in time.” It had better mean damned short and not a second longer. The splash of the shower interrupted his thoughts and he became instantly aware that every sound she made reverberated through the thin walls.
    He could hear the material of her gown rustle as she removed it and pictured her stripping—baring soft, pearly skin. He knew the minute she stepped beneath the steamy spray, her murmur of pleasure as seductive as a siren’s song. It took every ounce of willpower not to thrust open the door and join her. Would she complain…or would she welcome him? He reached for the knob, determined to find out.
    She’d be slippery with soap, wet and sleek. If he found her willing, he’d take her in his arms and make her his wife in fact as well as name. But before he could follow through, the water stopped and he hesitated, annoyed that the choice had been taken from him. He released the knob and stepped back and after a few short moments she emerged from the bathroom.
    He froze at the sight of her, unable to draw breath, feeling like someone had smashed an iron fist into his chest. He seesawed on the edge of control, rock-hard with desire, passion driving him to the point of no return. Only one thing kept him from plunging over the edge and taking what he wanted…
    Wynne’s nightgown.
    His wife stood uncertainly in the doorway, enveloped in whisper-thin cotton. The nightgown floated around her like