Our Now and Forever (Ardent Springs #2) (4 page)

The kitchen back home was larger than these two rooms combined. Everything in sight was white, except for the occasional touch of color. A red apple orchard sign on a shelf over the kitchen windows. Blue canisters along the left side of the counter. A green throw over the short white couch, and a burst of flowers in the painting to his right.

“What is this place?” he asked, confusion clouding his brain. He couldn’t make a connection between the large house he’d parked behind and this miniature space.

“It’s where I live,” Snow said, dropping her coat and bag over a white wing-back chair. “Miss Hattie lives in the house, and she rents this apartment to me.”

“Miss Hattie?”

“The Silvesters have lived on this property since the 1850s,” Snow said. “Miss Hattie is the last of the line.”

“Right.” Caleb looked for a place to drop his bag and settled for a spot not far from the door. “It’s nice.”
Tiny
was the word that came to mind, but he didn’t want to give her the impression that her apartment wasn’t good enough for him. Just because it was smaller than the bedroom he grew up in didn’t mean he couldn’t adjust.

“I like it,” she said, conveying the message that she had no intention of leaving it anytime soon.

They stood in the middle of the room in awkward silence until Snow said, “I need to get out of this costume.”

Without thinking, he asked, “Need some help?”

Snow spun. “What part of ‘no sex’ do you not understand?”

Caleb leaned an elbow on the top of the chair next to him. “I didn’t ask to get into your knickers, darling. I simply offered to help undo a zipper.” And if his fingertips happened to slide over her skin as he did so . . .

If he didn’t know better, Caleb would swear Snow’s eyelid twitched. “I can manage,” she said, turning toward the door next to the stove, then turning back his way to ask, “How did you find me, anyway?”

“Spotted a flier in a music shop down in Nashville for some Ruby festival. One of the sponsors was Snow’s Curiosity Shop.” He shrugged. “Figured it was worth checking out.”

“Lucky break,” Snow mumbled under her breath. “I’ll get some blankets for the couch.”

“Uh-uh,” he said.

“Excuse me?”

Glancing toward the miniature sofa on his left, Caleb said, “I’m not sleeping there. This couch is about four feet too small. I’ll be sleeping in the bed.”

Propping both hands on her hips, Snow glared. “You expect me to give up my bed and sleep on the couch?”

“I never said that. You can sleep next to me,” he said, enjoying this saucy side of his wife.

“We agreed,” she said.

“We agreed to no sex. There was no mention of not sleeping together.” Caleb stepped into the kitchen and perused the contents of the skinny fridge. “We’re husband and wife, and that means sharing the same bed.” Turning her way, he added, “You don’t think you can sleep next to me without jumping my bones?”

Her cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink. “I’m sure I won’t feel tempted at all.”

Chapter 4

Snow had clearly underestimated her opponent.

Sleeping next to Caleb and not having sex with him was going to test every last ounce of her willpower. She didn’t know where it came from, but the man had some weird hold over her. Not that Snow would ever admit that annoying truth aloud.

But refusing to sleep with him would be a point in Caleb’s favor. Reveal a weakness she had no doubt he’d capitalize on. Massaging her temples, Snow considered her options, and the only real choice she had was to buck up and do it. To crawl into bed with the man and prove that she was
not
the weak one.

Maybe she could put pillows down the center, delineating a “his” side and a “her” side. He’d likely accuse her of needing the added protection to keep her own urges in check, but Snow would argue the barrier was to keep him out of her space. Which went beyond stupid. If Caleb wanted to invade her side of the bed, no amount of feathers would stop him. And, Snow feared, neither would she.

The sound of the microwave accompanied by loud whistling let her know he was making himself at home. The happy tune set her teeth on edge. Caleb thought this was going to be so easy. A sexy grin with a little innuendo and she’d be begging him to breach more than a measly pillow wall.

Snow’s spine stiffened. Her husband-for-now was in for a surprise. Not only was she not going to have sex with him, but she would make his every waking minute miserable for the next month. Two weeks max and he’d be heading back to Louisiana.

That thought made her feel guilty. She was still processing the fact that he hadn’t meant the words he’d said to his father. Not that he’d replaced them now with declarations of love and endless devotion, but there was no doubt Caleb was determined to make this marriage work, so he must care for her.

For that reason alone, she’d agreed to give this a chance, and Caleb had been right. She owed him that much. But when this fell apart, as it inevitably would, they would go their separate ways. For good. Snow had never imagined she’d be a divorcée at the age of twenty-seven, but she also never fathomed doing something as stupid as marrying a virtual stranger in Las Vegas. This was a situation of her own making, and now she had to get herself out of it.

“I don’t hear any water running,” drawled a deep voice through the door.

Snow jumped away from the slat of wood and shot an evil glare she wished could travel through walls. “I’m getting my clothes together,” she answered, honey dripping from every word.

“Hope it’s that little red number,” he said. “I’ve missed that one a lot.”

Snow jerked a pillow off the bed and threw it at the door. As expected, it didn’t make a sound. She’d worn “that little red number” on their wedding night. And several times during their first month of wedded bliss, though she didn’t know why she’d bothered.

Most of the time, Caleb had managed to get Snow out of her unmentionables in less time than it took her to get into them. Not that she’d complained much at the time. When he was shirtless and that light shone in his eyes, the slips of lace practically melted to the floor. The memories alone sent heat spreading through her abdomen.

When Snow realized she was fanning herself, her resolve returned. She stomped to her dresser, withdrew her most conservative pajamas, along with her least sexy pair of underwear, and headed for the bathroom.

“You’re not going to win this game, Caleb McGraw,” she said under her breath. “I am not going down without a fight.”

“Let me know if you need me to scrub your back,” Caleb offered.

Ignoring the taunt, Snow surrendered to the childish act of sticking her tongue out in his general direction. As she turned on the hot water, she sent up a silent prayer for strength. One lust-fogged rash decision would not ruin the rest of her life. And neither would Caleb McGraw.

Caleb was playing with fire, but he couldn’t help himself. All those months he’d been seeing Snow only in his dreams, and the real thing was still better than anything his subconscious had created. The dark curls dancing around her face. The hazel eyes that turned gold when she was aroused. Or angry, he now knew. The slender body that radiated power and fragility while putting ideas in his head about all the ways he’d like to test both.

As he acquainted himself with Snow’s kitchen, Caleb considered the
night ahead. For all his taunting and teasing, he knew Snow held the upper hand in this battle. Eighteen months of celibacy needed to end, but thanks
to Snow and her “conditions,” that was not going to happen tonight.

Some men might have found comfort elsewhere after their wife disappeared for more than a year, with no word on when or even
if
she was coming back. Regardless of how fickle he might appear to the rest of the world, Caleb had made a vow, and that meant something.

His father had been unfaithful for years, and though Vivien McGraw kept her head held high, Caleb knew it must be a painful way to live. His mother had all but shriveled to nothing over the years, going without food to keep her figure, as if that would somehow change her husband’s behavior. Playing the doting wife in front of company, but sleeping in a separate bedroom from her husband and rarely speaking or sharing a meal in private.

That was not the kind of marriage Caleb wanted, and regardless of Snow’s temporary absence, if he’d climbed into another woman’s bed, his marriage was as good as over whether he ever found his wife again or not. And as for her insistence that they were from different worlds, that’s what had drawn him to her.

Snow was nothing like the debutantes his mother was always throwing his way. She didn’t care about brand-name purses or if the salad fork was on the inside instead of the outside. She made him laugh, and best of all, she made him feel . . . normal.

Most of the people his parents knew were just like them. Shallow. Materialistic. Not to mention power hungry and bullying. Jackson McGraw could best be described as a son of a bitch, which wasn’t exactly the kind of man any boy should aspire to be. Caleb knew at an early age that he never wanted to emulate his father, which contributed to his lack of settling into a career.

His father had done everything possible short of tying Caleb to a desk to make him join the company business. Though he’d eventually caved and earned a business degree, and endured several internships at various McGraw Media holdings, Caleb had put off the inevitable by living in Nashville, near his alma mater of Vanderbilt University.

His parents believed he was considering going back for his MBA, but in truth, he’d been avoiding growing up by partying his life away. Until he’d met Snow. From that New Year’s Eve on, his life was changed. Which was why when Snow had disappeared, there’d been no question that he’d go after her. Finding her had become his sole mission, nullifying the voices of doubt around him.

After a year with no word, his friends told him to give up, while his mother insisted he come home. Thankfully, Caleb had been stubborn enough to ignore them all. Today, he’d found his wife. But finding her and getting her back were turning out to be two different things.

After pouring himself a glass of water, he leaned against the bedroom door, listening for movement. Seconds of silence passed before he heard a drawer close, followed closely by the creaking of the bed.

That was his cue.

Pulling his bag onto his shoulder, Caleb knocked on the bedroom door and waited for an answer. Nothing came, so he knocked again. Had she locked the door? He fought the urge to jiggle the knob and was rewarded for his patience with a muffled order to come in.

He lingered on the threshold, staring at the explosion of feminine frills bounding from every corner of the room. A long white dresser occupied the right wall, covered in trinket boxes and what looked like a strip of material straight out of a Paris fabric shop. To his left was the bed, with a white cast-iron headboard and Snow flat on her back, eyes on the ceiling, and the faded coverlet up to her neck.

For his part, Caleb couldn’t get past the explosion of colors covering her body. The bed looked as if a flower shop had puked all over it. He was secure enough in his manhood to handle just about anything, but this would push any guy’s limits. Pinks, purples, and blues fought for dominance. And not even a masculine blue. More like a sissified blue, as if the other pale shades had beaten it into submission.

If Caleb wasn’t careful, the same could happen to him.
Not
without a fight.

“You can put your stuff in the chair over there,” Snow said, nodding her head toward the far corner of the room. The term “far corner” was an exaggeration, as the room was barely big enough for the bed and dresser. Whoever had built this dinky apartment must have had a munchkin in mind as a tenant.

Once the estrogen overload simmered down, Caleb dropped his bag onto the wicker chair indicated. The flimsy thing would never hold him, which meant he’d have to sit on the bed to remove his boots. The soft mattress dipped low beneath his weight. A quick glance Snow’s way revealed the blanket had been pulled higher, her eyes and nose barely visible above the lace trim.

He couldn’t help but wonder what she’d opted to sleep in. When they’d been together, neither of them slept in anything. Caleb wouldn’t push his luck, or his body, that far tonight, but he wasn’t going to sleep in his jeans either. Carrying his shaving bag into the bathroom, he hesitated when he spotted the sink. Who would make a sink this small? There couldn’t have been more than four inches between the front edge of the bowl and the end of the faucet, which looked at least eighty years old, with two four-point knobs facing forward instead of up.

Doing the best he could not to make a mess, Caleb finished his nightly business and stepped back into the bedroom. Snow feigned sleep, but he’d caught her watching him out of one eye. She was clearly trying to pretend his presence wasn’t affecting her, which made this the perfect time to show his wife what she’d been missing.

The moment she heard his zipper drop, Snow sat up in the bed. “What are you doing?”

“Getting ready for bed,” he said, choosing not to mention the baby duck–covered pajamas that were buttoned to her neck. If she was going for non-sexy, she’d hit the mark. “You don’t expect me to sleep in my jeans.”

“Then what are you going to sleep in?” she asked, regaining the blankets and hugging them against her chest.

Caleb grabbed the hem of his T-shirt. “Afraid I don’t own fancy pajamas like yours,” he said with a smile, and tugged the shirt over his head.

Snow tried to cover the gasp, but it was no use. His broad shoulders glowed in the soft light of her bedside lamp, rippling with every movement, making her long to run her fingers through the light patch of hair on his chest that she knew would be soft to the touch. Her mouth dried up as other parts turned moist, and Snow couldn’t pull her eyes away. Her husband was gorgeous.

And he knew it.

Holding her gaze as he pushed the worn denim over narrow hips, down muscled thighs and solid calves, Caleb conveyed with a look that all she had to do was break her own rule and she could have anything she wanted. And oh did she want. She wanted this man as she’d never wanted anything in her life, but she couldn’t have him and win back her future.

“That’s far enough,” she said, falling back onto the pillow to stare at the ceiling.

Snow turned out the light and flopped onto her side to face away from Caleb’s half of the bed. She felt cool air against her back as he lifted the blankets, replaced by heat as he settled in beside her. His breath tickled the back of her neck, and she wished he’d face the other way. Of course he wouldn’t. Caleb meant to make this night as difficult as possible, just as she intended to make his days a living hell.

At least they both knew what they were up against.

“Do I get a kiss goodnight?” he asked, his voice a whisper in the silent room.

Snow squeezed her eyes shut tight as a yes danced on the tip of her tongue. She could turn around and fall into him. Experience the security and protection she always felt in his arms. But that feeling is what had gotten her into this.