The Texas Millionaire's Runaway Wife (7 page)

The sentiment sank Stephen’s gut like a boulder. This didn’t sound good. “What are you talking about, Abigail?”

“Mrs. Sands, she explained it all to me at dinner. About how the two of you won’t be sharing a room.” She leaned in. “About your...problem.” A blush tinted her cheeks.

“Abigail, what in the world are you talking about?”

She took a step back, uncertainty in her eyes. “I won’t tell. I promise. If that’s what you think. I’m loyal, Mr. Sands, I won’t tell anyone what’s going on.”

“She told you?”

“Everything.”

Everything. But that didn’t add up. He was missing something. He took a seat on the stair. “Abigail, why don’t you tell me what Mrs. Sands said.”

The blush intensified and a look of mortification passed over her face. “I’m sorry, sir,” she whispered. “Please don’t make me.”

“Make you, Abigail, I just want to know what my wife told you.”

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she gave into her internal war and answered. “Your...
intimacy
issue. She told me that the two of you were not able to,” she whispered, “
make love
. That it embarrassed you and that it would be better to sleep in different rooms because of it.”

“Oh, she did, did she?” His longtime maid nodded. “So she isn’t in my room, then?”

“No, sir. And I’m sorry for assuming earlier. I mean, I knew you’d never brought women here before, but I just thought you were being discreet. I promise I won’t tell a soul.”

He stood and dusted his palms on his jeans. The only thing he could do to keep them from balling into angry fists. “So where exactly is she, Abigail?”

“In the guest room at the end, on the third floor. I’ll arrange something better tomorrow, I promise.”

“Thank you, Abigail. That will be all.”

The woman hightailed away from Stephen as quickly as possible.

Intimacy issues. Once again taking the stairs two at a time, he headed to the third floor.

Chapter Five

“Cassie, open up!” Stephen pounded on the door.

Cassie sat straight up in bed. “Go away, Stephen.”

“Open the door this instant!”

A grin plastered itself across her face. She knew he’d be mad, but he sounded livid. She wondered just how embarrassed her story had made him. “Goodnight, Stephen.”

“Cassandra!”

He pounded again but one glance at the door assured Cassie he could not get in. She’d locked it. Chances were he had a key to this room. Or at very least, Abigail would. But Stephen would never force his way in. He would see that as
beneath
him.

Which was fine.

The gall. Thinking they would share a bed tonight. “Stephen, I’ve got to get some sleep. I’ve got to do wifely things tomorrow, so if you don’t mind...”

Wifely things. She planned to spend so much money so quickly that his head would spin. She’d been needing a new oven for the bakery anyway.

He stopped banging his fist against the door, but Cassie had a sinking suspicion he hadn’t given up and gone to bed yet.

“Cassie.” He spoke her name in a voice as smooth as chocolate.

She was right.

“Look,” he said, “we got off to a bad start today. Why don’t you come out and we can talk. Can you do that much for me?”

“Nope.” She’d be his wife. She’d take part in this charade as long as he wanted to keep it up, but it’d be on her terms. She wondered how much longer he’d pursue this. He was a Sands man, after all. Which, to Cassie’s estimation meant two things: he didn’t give up easily, and he didn’t beg.

She would not sleep in his bed.

“We had a deal, Cassandra.”

She got out of bed and walked to the door. “You’re right, Stephen. And since a lot of married couples don’t share a bed, I don’t feel I’ve done anything wrong. Besides,” she couldn’t help herself, “I didn’t exactly lie to Abigail. After all we’ve been through I can’t think of a better explanation than intimacy issues.” She leaned against the dresser and examined her nails awaiting his response.

When he didn’t make another sound, Cassie wondered if he’d gone to bed. Then she heard it. Laughter.

Confused, she asked, “What are you laughing at, Stephen?”

It grew louder. Finally, he said, “You, Cassie. I forgot what you were like. This is going to be fun. If this is how you want to play it, then I’ll have more fun than I’d planned. Goodnight, Cassandra.”

That wasn’t the response she’d expected. It perturbed her.

And unnerved.

What did he mean, fun?

He’d said he needed her to keep up the act of marriage so he could get a divorce, but not for the first time today, Cassie wondered if he had something else in mind.

Surely he didn’t still want her. Which left...? A boulder settled in the pit of her stomach and cold chills ran up and down her arms. Stephen wanted revenge. She knew it. She’d embarrassed him by leaving; made things harder by coming back and now he wanted to torture her.

Fine.

She straightened her back and stepped away from the dresser. Crossing over the sand colored carpet, she sank back into the guest bed. If he wanted to try to torture her, she didn’t have to make it easy on him.

Stephen might have his own agenda for what he wanted to do, but that didn’t mean Cassie had to play fair.

She’d been thinking too small.

Turning, she clicked off the Tiffany lamp and rolled over in bed. A cloud of angel feathers, really. The mattress cradled her in ways she hadn’t realized she could be cradled. The sheets, Egyptian cotton, she suspected, and a much higher thread-count than her discount store sheets, felt soft and silky against her skin.

Cassie loved nice things, but she had a thrifty side that ran deep. She thought she’d be able to get Stephen to call this off by spending his money, but as she rolled over in the bed, she realized, money was not an issue for him.

He’d probably love for her to spend some. It would make them appear more legitimate. No, she needed something bigger.

Something that would send such fear through him that he would want nothing more than to send her packing. And apparently telling his housekeeper he had intimacy issues was not it.

Snuggling deeper into the covers, Cassie crossed arms over her chest and tucked her knees up tight. She had to think of something insurmountable. Something Stephen himself would never see coming.

But for tonight, at least, she would enjoy these wonderful sheets.

****

Morning came with the phone beside her bed ringing and Abigail letting her know breakfast would be ready in fifteen minutes.

Sitting up, Cassie stretched arms over her head and relaxed back into the plush pillows. Stephen Sands might have a lot of faults, but he had a very keen sense of comfort. She’d not slept so well in, well, possibly ever.

A glance out the window let her know the sun was up, but she had no idea the time. Surely Stephen would have left for work. Not that she felt afraid to face him. No, she could handle him just fine.

It was the kissing that got to her.

And that she couldn’t seem to stop her body’s reaction to those kisses.

Plus, if he hadn’t left for work, that meant he’d probably want to make a show of a good kiss at the door.

Jerk.

Pulling on a pair of jeans and a long sleeved shirt, Cassie wondered what Stephen had told Abigail. It seemed strange that the woman had welcomed her as his wife with no question. Sure, she was his servant, a word that made Cassie shiver in horror, but she was still a woman. Cassie couldn’t imagine not having questions about an arrangement as queer as theirs.

Of course, Abigail hadn’t questioned when Cassie told her she and Stephen weren’t intimate, either, so perhaps this was her nature. Tell her what you may, and she accepts unquestioning.

Cassie felt a little jealous.

Applying light lip-gloss and brushing her hair, she thought about their time in Vegas. She’d thought about it a lot over the past few weeks, but being so close had intensified the questions over the last twenty-four hours. They’d gotten married.

More so, she had his grandmother’s ring. At the thought, she twisted it on her finger.

But the fact that he had it meant Stephen planned to propose. He’d told her as much in his office yesterday but it still made her mind reel. Why marry a woman you don’t even plan to share a life with? Or, at very least, a woman with whom your entire relationship had been built on lies.

It seemed, well, odd. They’d spent time together—mostly in the bakery—even gone on a few dates. Spent glorious hours wrapped in each other’s arms in bed, but really, what kind of a relationship is that? It wasn’t as if they’d done many relationship things. Alcohol may have erased the actual ceremony sans a few small photograph-like memories, but the way she felt standing next to him she remembered clearly. She fit him perfectly.

That had been unforgettable.

The morning she woke up in his arms she felt more relaxed, happier than she’d felt in a long time.

Until he told her he wanted to keep her a secret.

So why had they married? Cassie didn’t fit into his lifestyle. She came from a poor family. Happy, but never financially comfortable. He was heir to the Sands family fortune. If he made it his mission to spend every dime of his fortune in his lifetime, it would be a difficult mission to accomplish.

So why had he wanted her?

It didn’t make sense.

Giving her curls one last tug, she stepped away from the mirror and headed downstairs.

Three stories. And she was on the top. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about a gym membership as long as she lived with Stephen.

Halfway down she smelled breakfast.

Which seemed strange, considering how large the house.

But oh, it smelled delectable. Cassie usually had a hurried cup of coffee and an apple for breakfast. She hadn’t had a real, sit-down breakfast in a long time.

The smells lead her toward the dining room where she saw a spread so grand it seemed almost ridiculous.

There sat Stephen.

Who looked sharp at the head of the table. He wore a slate-gray suit with a reflective royal purple tie and a crisp, white shirt. He sat transfixed by the paper and he took a sip of coffee without seeming to notice her presence. Pushing past the dread, she walked the length of the table and pulled out the chair next to his. “Good morning.”

“Morning.” He nodded as he lay down his paper. Catching her eye he asked, “Did you sleep well?”

She smiled. Tensely, but politely. “Thank you, I did. And you?”

Abigail appeared at her elbow before he had a chance to answer. Probably saving Cassie an earful. “Coffee, Mrs. Sands?”

“Thank you, I would love a cup.”

Abigail went about preparing the beverage and Cassie reached for some scrambled eggs, a couple of strawberries and a piece of toast. “Are we expecting company?” she asked. It seemed like an awful lot of food. Cinnamon rolls, pancakes, oatmeal, cut fruit of every variety possible, muffins, scrambled eggs and a few things Cassie didn’t recognize.

Stephen quirked his brow. “No, should we be?”

“The food...”

He looked around the table, then toward Abigail. “It seems Abigail enjoyed cooking for more than just me this morning.”

Cassie looked at his plate. All he had was a piece of dry toast to go with his coffee. “Not exactly the breakfast of champions,” she quipped.

“Your coffee.”

Cassie glanced up at the housekeeper. “Thank you, Abigail. Breakfast looks wonderful. But it seems like a lot.”

The woman blushed and for a moment Cassie wondered if perhaps she’d embarrassed her.

“I didn’t know what you would want, and I wanted to make your first day pleasant.”

Now Cassie felt embarrassed. “Well this is wonderful, thank you.”

“That will be all, Abigail,” Stephen said.

Cassie shot him a dirty look as the woman left the room.

“Why did you dismiss her like that? That’s so rude.”

“How should I dismiss her?”

“Not at all. She could have sat with us, you know. There’s plenty of food.” Cassie took a bite of her scrambled eggs, which didn’t taste as good now that she had a sour taste in her mouth. She had to wash them down with a swig of coffee.

Stephen pushed his paper aside and brushed a few crumbs from his shirt. “That isn’t how it’s done, Cassie. We don’t dine with the help, that’s not how it’s done.”

Cassie didn’t think she liked how things were done in Stephen’s world. In her world, people didn’t have help. Or servants. Or housekeepers, even. If a neighborhood kid mowed your lawn, you offered him a glass of lemonade when he needed a break. And a twenty for his time.

She imagined that Stephen had a team of people who kept his lawns and gardens manicured. None had probably ever been offered any lemonade.

“She could have eaten with us,” she mumbled again.

He looked bemused. “Should I call her back?”

She narrowed her eyes. “No, I think you embarrassed her.”

“If anyone embarrassed her, it was you. Abigail is paid to perform a service. You making a big deal out of it might make her feel as if she has to put on a show every morning. Now, how are you going to feel when she starts doubling or tripling her normal workload just to please you? That doesn’t seem fair.”

Cassie had been chewing another bite of eggs, but now it wouldn’t go down. It felt like rubber in her mouth. She forcibly swallowed then said, “I didn’t mean anything.”

“I slept fine, thank you.”

Her cheeks warmed.

“That was quite the stunt you pulled last night. I expected you in my bed and to hear that I had intimacy issues really, well, I underestimated you, Cassie.”

It didn’t sound like a compliment. Lowering her voice so only Stephen could hear, she said, “I told you I won’t be sleeping with you.”

“You did warn me.”

She sat back in her seat, her appetite completely diminished. “I have to go to Just Desserts today. There are a few orders pending, I’ve got to plan winter’s menu, so I had better be...”

“No.”

“No?”

He shook his head and stood. “As of yesterday, you don’t work. It would seem odd for my wife to have a job.”