The Texas Millionaire's Runaway Wife by Mary Malcolm Read Free Book Online

know.”
    She took a deep breath and closed her eyes to the room. If she imagined herself back in her place, she could make this all disappear. Garnet walls, she imagined. And the silver tin ceiling in her dining room. Colorful glass bottles, bookshelves lining the walls. Stacks of baking magazines. Home Beautiful magazine open and marked up on her coffee table. Pellegrino water in a blue glass with a plastic straw.
    She opened her eyes.
    This place did not smell like home. Home smelled like oranges and basil, rising yeasty dough.
    Stephen’s bedroom smelled like Stephen.
    She walked to the closet, ready to apologize for what she’d said. “I—”
    She should have stayed seated. He stood in nothing but boxers. His clothes lain carefully over a chair, a pair of blue jeans being pulled from the rack.
    He turned. And grinned. “Like what you see?”
    She should wipe her drool. It wasn’t proper to drool. Tan muscular chest, lightly peppered with black hair. A trail of sinful thoughts leading into the dip of his boxers. She closed her eyes and gathered her thoughts. “Nothing I haven’t seen before.” She opened her eyes. She. Would. Not. Give. Into. Him. “You look fine, Stephen. You know you do.”
    He yanked the jeans on, completely covering those muscular thighs. Relief filled Cassie as the erotic thoughts faded slightly.
    Then he stepped forward. His chest so close. “I told you you’d want me.”
    So arrogant.
    “I don’t. I want you to get dressed, Stephen. You’ll be late for your meeting, or whatever it is you have planned tonight.”
    Whatever it is that meant she’d have to spend her first night in a foreign home completely alone.
    “Wouldn’t want to be late,” he breathed, inches from her face.
    “No,” she assured, keeping her hands firmly at her sides.
    “But how about a goodnight kiss?”

Chapter Four
    Stephen Sands felt like temptation standing in front of her asking for a kiss. Heart thudding, she ached to touch his still-bare chest. She fought against the memories of him from earlier. His lips against hers, the way their tongues felt as he explored her mouth. The way his chest felt beneath her hand. She itched to feel him again. No fabric to separate them, only skin. Manly. Skin. Too beautiful to really be hers for the touching skin.
    Hers.
    It hit her. As his wife, she had power she hadn’t even thought about. Sure, she might have felt like a victim of circumstance earlier, but now, now it hit her. She was Stephen Sands’ wife.
    Cassie Sands. Cassie Sands, who had an open bank balance if she wanted it at pretty much any retailer across town. Cassie Sands, who had the right to deny her husband the thing he wanted most in this world, should she choose.
    And oh, she couldn’t wait to see the look on his face once she let him know exactly what he’d be missing by being married to her. Truly and fully married. She might have to act as his wife, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t torture him a little in her own right.
    She took a step back. “Stephen,” she purred, “I will not be kissing you tonight. And you should let go of any thoughts of anything else from me when other people aren’t around.”
    Giving into temptation, she traced a finger slowly down his chest toward his naval. “In fact,” she assured, “you should be prepared for a lot of lonely nights.”
    Uncertainty shone in his eyes.
    She might not win the battle, but for now, she had the upper hand. “I wouldn’t want my husband stepping out on me.”
    His eyes darkened. “I hadn’t intended to.”
    “Two weeks after I left you I saw you in the Fort Worth Weekly with, who was it, the mayor’s daughter? She looked pretty cozy wrapped around your arm.”
    It had killed her to see, like he couldn’t even let the dead body of their relationship cool before moving on. She stepped away from the closet.
    And he stepped out. “She’s a friend. Mostly. Tabloids believe what they want to believe, not everything you see