Beaufort Brides: Hired Bride Part 10

But they couldn't have s.e.x again.

She rolled over to the edge again and reached down for her pajama pants, which she could see in the morning light.

She was pulling them on under the covers when Mitch.e.l.l opened his eyes.

"Morning," he said, his voice thick with sleep rather than s.e.x.

"Hi." She smiled at him, reaching back to the floor for her camisole.

"It feels too early to be moving yet."

"It's not six yet, but we'll have to get up in a little while anyway. We need to leave before eight to make our flight."

He groaned and closed his eyes.

"You might as well resign yourself to getting up," she said, sounding more awake than she felt, since she was clearly more awake than him.

He opened his eyes just a slit and peered at her through them. "We have a little time. I can think of a few ways to resign myself to waking up more pleasantly."

She shook her head, amazed at his appet.i.te, since they'd had two fairly vigorous rounds of s.e.x that night. "Not going to happen."

"Are you feeling okay?"

She smiled, since his concern sounded sincere. "Yeah, I'm fine. Despite your delusions of grandeur, you're not so huge that it leaves me unable to walk this morning." She made sure her tone was light so he would know she was teasing.

He chuckled and reached out for her, but she stayed out of his reach.

He frowned when she got off the bed. "Where are you going?"

"To my room to get dressed."

"Why are you so standoffish?"

"Because I don't think we should do this again." She tried to sound firm, but she ended up sounding more resigned than anything else, like it was something she didn't really want.

This startled him into sitting up. He rubbed his chin with his hand, making a scratchy sound from his bristles. "Why not? It was fantastic."

She blushed a little at the words, which was ridiculous. "Yeah, it was really good. But I told you before that s.e.x would make things between us more complicated."

"It didn't feel complicated last night."

"Maybe not. But it's starting to feel that way this morning." When it looked like he would argue, she spoke over him. "I'm serious, Mitch.e.l.l. I know it was good. And I'm sure it would continue to be good. But I...I..." She trailed off, wanting to be honest but not feeling comfortable revealing the deepest parts of her soul to him.

He looked cool and disapproving, but his eyes searched her face. "You want...?"

"I'm not the kind of person who can have s.e.x casually. I just can't. I never have. If I keep having s.e.x with you, I'll eventually want it to mean something, and that means I'll end up getting hurt. I'm not going to do that to myself."

It was all true, and she didn't regret saying it, even though it left her feeling naked and strangely young.

Mitch.e.l.l didn't say anything immediately. He stared at her, clearly processing the words. Several times, it looked like he would start responding, but he never did.

Finally, he gave a little nod. "Understood."

She narrowed her eyes. "You're okay with that?"

"What am I supposed to say? That you should keep having s.e.x with me, even if it will hurt you?"

She swallowed hard. "That would be pretty heartless."

"I know. I'm not going to say it. Whatever you think, I'm not entirely heartless."

She sighed. "I don't think you're heartless, Mitch.e.l.l. I just think you're different from me. I take certain things seriously-like marriage and s.e.x and...and tradition. I know you don't. That's fine. You don't have to. But I hope you understand that I do."

"I do understand. If you want to have s.e.x again, you'll let me know." His eyes smoldered briefly. "I guarantee that I'll keep wanting to have s.e.x with you."

She gulped, feeling a hot flash wash over her.

She would have preferred not to know that. Now she was going to keep wondering if he was thinking about having s.e.x with her, which would make her constantly think about having s.e.x with him.

She felt rattled and a little disappointed as she returned to her bedroom. She was relieved that he'd accepted her decision, but it meant that there was no way-absolutely no way-that he would ever take s.e.x with her seriously.

It clearly hadn't even been a possibility in his mind.

Seven.

A week later, Mitch.e.l.l woke up feeling a sense of frustration that was becoming familiar.

Before he'd gotten married, he'd had s.e.x fairly regularly. Whenever he got the itch, it was pretty easy to find some way to scratch it-usually a one-night stand, since more serious relations.h.i.+ps were too much ha.s.sle. But, on a daily basis, the desire to have s.e.x had never particularly troubled him.

It did now.

He woke up thinking about Deanna, and he went to bed thinking about Deanna, and in the middle of the day, just sitting in his office, he would find himself thinking about her too. Imagining having s.e.x with her again-in any number of creative ways and locations.

It was absolutely ridiculous.

He was starting to realize it had been a mistake to have s.e.x last week in Charleston, no matter how good it had been, since it had merely whetted his appet.i.te, and now he wanted her even more than he had before.

He tried to push the thought of her to the back of his mind. It was a normal day, after all. He had to work out. Then go to the Claremont to get some work done. Then he had a few important phone calls in the afternoon. Then he and Deanna were scheduled to go to the ballet this evening as his weekly public function.

He was pretty sure she was going to make him go to church on Sunday for hers.

So he roused himself from bed, scattered the erotic thoughts that kept pestering him, and pulled on his workout clothes.

On his way to the bas.e.m.e.nt, he heard a strange noise from the library, so he stuck his head in to see what was going on.

It was Deanna. She leaning over, evidently trying to move a table across the room. It was made of heavy wood, and she was tiny, so she was obviously having to work hard at it.

She still wore her pajamas-her normal ensemble of soft cotton pants and thin camisole-and he could see the outline of her underwear through the fabric, since it was stretched across her rounded a.s.s.

His body immediately took interest, but his mind was, for the moment, the stronger force. "What the h.e.l.l are you doing?"

She was so startled she jumped, releasing the table and whirling around. "You scared me."

"Sorry," he said, not particularly apologetic. "What are you doing?"

"I was just moving the table over to the window, where there's more light. Is that okay?" She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand and pushed one lacy strap back in place. "You said I could make myself at home."

It looked like she was worried he'd be mad at her, which was very annoying. Surely she didn't think he was so demanding and uptight. "It's fine. You can do whatever you like. By why are you doing it all by yourself?"

"I didn't want to bother you. I'm used to doing things by myself."

He sighed and shook his head, walking over to grab the sides of the table.

She ran around to the other side, and together they moved the table where she wanted it.

"It's getting too cluttered to do my beads in my little sitting room, so I thought I'd do them here, if that's all right. You never seem to use this room much."

"I don't use it at all. Just grab a book occasionally. You can completely change it, if you want to set it up differently. I can get new furniture, if you need-"

"No, no," she interrupted, giving him a little smile he really liked, as if she were pleased and appreciative. "It's just fine as it is. I only wanted to move the table by the window. Thank you so much."

"You don't have to keep thanking me. This is your home as much as mine-for the next five months and one week." He added the last phrase to remind himself, since he kept forgetting the end date wasn't that far away.

"Do you need some help bringing down all your beads?" he asked, troubled by the line of his thoughts.

"No, I can get them." When she saw his cool glare, she laughed sheepishly. "Okay. If you don't mind. Thank you."

She was beaming at him as they went up to collect all her paraphernalia, and her smile made him feel foolishly proud of himself, even though he'd done almost nothing to be proud of except behave like a decent human being.

She was telling him where to put the tins of beads back in the library when he noticed one particular container with a clear lid that had a variety of beads that all seemed distinct and eye catching. "What are these for?" he asked, gesturing toward the container. "I haven't seen any of these on the stuff you make."

"No, those are all my favorites. Whenever I see any that I particularly like, I put them in there."

"But you don't use them?"

"No. It's silly, I guess, but I keep saving them up. I have this idea of making them all into some sort of wall hanging or something."

"Why don't you?" He could picture them all together and thought it would make a really impressive piece of art.

"It would take forever, and then it would be so expensive no one would buy it."

"They probably would."

"Well, I wouldn't want to sell it."

"Then just do it for yourself."

She gave a little shrug. "I'd never do something that took so long just to keep it. I love doing my beads, but can only justify it because it has the potential to earn a little money. It would just feel self-indulgent to do it all for myself."

He gazed at her for a minute, thinking she was so pretty and intelligent and practical and self-sufficient, and he wondered how many chances she'd had in her life to do something just for the sheer pleasure of it, something to please only her.

He'd spent most of his life doing just that.

"What's the matter?" she asked, looking at his curiously.

He was feeling strangely close to her, and he wanted to stay to talk some more, dig into her soul. But the thought made him nervous, so he thought it was better to make himself scarce.

"I better work out while I have the time," he muttered.

"Sure," she said, with a smile that was just a little wistful. "Thanks so much for your help."

He wondered if it was his imagination, or if she was disappointed that he'd left so abruptly.

He almost hoped she was.

A couple of days later, they were sitting together in the library after dinner.

Deanna had come into the room to work on her beads, and he'd ended up following her, since it felt strangely lonely to hang about by himself.

He'd never felt lonely in his own house before. He a.s.sumed it was just a pa.s.sing feeling.

He'd acted like he'd come into the room to read, but instead he ended up sitting across the table from her, pretending to help her with the earrings she was making.

Deanna giggled as she watched him try to get the tiny beads on the wire.

"There's no reason to laugh," he said, with a playfully disapproving look. "My fingers are a lot bigger than yours."

"I know. You're doing just fine." Her face was smiling and affectionate and so pretty it took his breath away.

"Which one goes next?" he asked, gesturing to the beads she'd pulled out for the piece of jewelry.

"You can choose the order. What do you think would look nice?"

"I have no idea." He eyed the silver and turquoise beads warily. "I guess we should alternate the colors?"

"That's what I was thinking." She was already finished with the matching earring she'd been making, and she showed him how she'd looped up the wire and fastened on the closure. "These are pretty simple."

"They don't look simple to me." Mitch.e.l.l focused on getting the beads strung without dropping them, and after a few minutes he looked up to see she was still watching him with a fond smile. "I don't think beads are my thing," he said.