Wife in Name Only

chapter Thirteen


Rory sat across from Zoe, who in the space of ten minutes was minus a shawl she’d insisted she’d worn to dinner on a tropical island.

“I’d kill for the letter C,” she murmured.

He looked down at the plastic letters in his rack. “I’ve got a C, babe. I’ll trade it for your dress.”

“Stop it. I’m thinking.” She bit her lip. “Besides, that’s cheating.”

He took a swig of The Transporter. “Nope, new rules. Island Strip Scrabble.”

Sitting across from her, he had trouble keeping still. A soft white dress floated over her tight curves.

He longed to run his fingers through the curls in her hair, to kiss the gloss from her lips, and to lay her on the bed.

She was the most breathtaking woman he’d ever seen.

Keep it light, dude.

He shifted in his chair. “So about that C…” He lifted up the tile. “You want it?”

She stared at him, her beautiful blue eyes narrowing. “Well, the thing is, if I take the C, I’m pretty sure I’ll beat the next word you’ll put down, and then you’ll be minus your shirt.”

He didn’t miss the way her pupils dilated when her eyes swept across his chest, nor the way her face flushed. He nearly had to excuse himself to take care of some urgent business in the bathroom. Either that, or he would lose it big time.

He dangled the tile in front of her. Damn, he wanted to see her out of that dress.

She reached across, plucked the letter from his hands, and with a whoop slid the word CZAR onto the board.

“There, beat that.”

His eyes flicked to the board then back to her. “I don’t take IOU’s.”

Without taking her eyes off him, she stood, reached around with one arm, unzipped the dress, and let it fall from her shoulders in a cloud of white.

F*ck.

He wiped a hand across his chin, taking her in from the white lacy strapless bra to the matching lacy garter belt. The seam on his pants nearly split at the tiny white suspender belts holding up impossibly sheer white stockings.

“Your turn,” she said in a heated whisper. She sat with a satisfied smirk on her face.

He glanced at his tiles. Without the C, it was a bit of a shitty hand, but using her R, he put the word “RAPT” on the board.

She threw back her head and laughed. “Rapt. Nice.”

God, he loved that sound. Carefree and happy. It was a sound he could wake up to every morning that would chase any bad mood away. That thought sat heavy in his chest. He pushed it aside.

“Come on. Czar beats rapt.”

He stood and pulled the shirt from over his head, loving her quick intake of breath.

Her “EVERY” on a double word score had him down to his pants.

Picking out three tiles, he laughed.

“No stupid plant words, either. I’m not buying that again,” she said.

He couldn’t help but smirk as he arranged his word on the board, landing the Y on a coveted triple word.

“No friggin’ way. That is not a word.” Her eyes glittered.

He leaned back, seriously pleased with himself. “Yes it is, and it’s a f*cking awesome word.”

“Put it in a sentence.” She took a long swig of her drink, obviously thinking she had all the time in the world.

“Junky. The nature of junk.” He couldn’t help himself as he smiled like a fourteen-year-old boy. “Or. I put my junky in your trunky.”

The next second purple liquid rained down on him as she spat her drink on him. Zoe’s eyes bulged, and she struggled to pull in air from laughing. “No way that’s a legal word.”

He stood, grabbed a nearby towel from a stack on the bench, and wiped purple drops from his chest.

“That’s the second time you’ve done that to me.” He threw the towel in a heap in the corner. “And you call me a caveman.”

He sat and cocked an eyebrow.

She gazed at him for a long second and then jutted her chin. “I’m calling you on it.”

He leaned forward, his pulse hammering, scattering the tiles on his rack. “You know that’s an instant forfeit if you lose, Zo. You know the rules.”

“I do.”

She pushed back her chair and walked to the bookcase. His gaze raked down her legs, stilling on the shoes. F*ck, they made her legs look good. She pulled out a dictionary and began flicking through the pages. Her eyes settled on a page for a long time before she nodded.

She came and stood in front of him, her eyes never leaving his. A very seductive and very sexy smile lit her face. Her gaze dropped to his pants then went back to his face. She licked her lips, reached around, and unhooked her bra.

“Keep on the shoes,” he ground out.

He couldn’t get any harder. His pants were a carnival tent. He held himself in check, hoping like hell a vein in his brain wouldn’t burst.

His eyes raked over her chest. Her nipples hardened under his gaze. His eyes traveled to her flat belly and the curve of her hip before landing on the white lace of her panties.

She leaned forward, unhooked the stockings from each garter belt, and rolled them down her legs. The sight of her breasts hanging free nearly sent him over the edge. She inched the triangle of white lace down her thighs.

He closed his eyes against the thump of desire punching through his veins.

His eyes flew open when she settled on his lap, facing him, naked except for the shoes, which she’d slipped back on after taking off her stockings. Her hands rested on his shoulders. She bit her lip, her face flushed, and her chest pushed into him.

In one sweep, he stood. He wrapped his arms around her waist, walked into the bedroom, and lay her on the bed.

Without a word, he shed his clothes.

He knelt in front of her, running his hand from her ankle to her shoulder, feeling the goose bumps on her hot flesh. He reached up and kissed her. Hard, urgent, but familiar. He deepened it, feeling her need and meeting it. He ran his hands over her heated body and closed his eyes when she moaned into his mouth. Her hands roamed over him, gentle but insistent. He journeyed down to beautiful breasts that swelled under his touch. He felt the jolt shoot through her when he took her nipple in his mouth. That pleased him on a guy level. His hands rested on her hips as their lips transmitted what they wanted. He pulled her to him and heard her gasp as his erection pressed into her belly.

“Yes,” she gasped, pulling him down on the bed so they lay facing each other. His hand parted her legs. His eyes nearly rolled back in his head. She was already soaked. His fingers found her spot, and he circled. Her hand cupped him, hand sliding down the length of him. He nearly lost it.

He continued stroking her, and the only sound in the room was their breathing, hot and labored.

She flipped over and wriggled back so that he was nudging her. He continued the slow circles, holding his breath. As she pressed back, he inched into her hot and tight body. It took every bit of his self-control not to come. He stroked her harder as she thrust against him, and within seconds, she threw her head back and screamed, her body convulsing around him.

His breath hissed out of him. He pulled back and slammed into her, lost in the sensations rolling around his body in thick waves. Her body was slippery against his. He could hold it no longer as she rode him to his climax, his body shuddering, muscles in a spasm.

When she collapsed on top of him, he nuzzled her neck, kissing the sweat that ran off her.

They lay silent and spent with her forehead resting on his shoulder.

“You ok, Zo?”

“Yeah, you?”

She scooted off the bed, still in those shoes, and walked toward the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

He grinned at the door and the ribbon of light that snuck from underneath.

“Hurry up, Zo. I need to go to sleep.”

The light went off, and a moment later she slipped under the covers, smelling all minty.

He pulled her against his chest and wrapped his arms around her, resting his head on her shoulder.

She angled her head to look at him. “What’s with you and the spooning?”

“I find it easier to sleep like this. Crazy, I know. It’s only for a few more days. Then you’ll be back to normal.”

She stiffened in his arms.

“Sleep.” He stroked the back of her neck until her breath evened out, and she relaxed against him. He tucked her in closer and hooked his leg over hers.

As tired as he was, he couldn’t rest. He stared at the open window. The moon cast a comforting glow across the room. Cinderella snored in the next room. The waves flopped onto the shore, and something he hadn’t experienced in a long time hit him with the force of a four hundred ton mallet.

Peace and contentment settled over him like an easy jacket.

He kissed the back of her head. Tenderness stole into his heart and planted a For Sale sign there.

F*ck.

His eyes burned.

He was leaving her in two days max. Somehow his about-to-be-ex-wife had crept in and stolen his heart. Again. And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

…

Zoe sat cross-legged on her bed the next afternoon, towel drying her hair and staring at the camera bag. Rory had been acting weird all morning. He’d been gone when she woke up, and during the day she’d look up to find him staring at her with a strange expression. She’d cleaned the solar panels and had started her least favorite job of washing and ironing all the linens. After that sweltering job, she’d needed a shower.

And now, she told herself, she needed to check the photos she and Rory had taken this week. She grabbed the camera and with a hollowness in her heart and trembling fingers, she stared down at the screen. Photoshop love. She smiled at the pictures of Rory and her on the summit holding up coconuts. Laughed at the photo of her underwater at the Honeymoon Pools, smiling into the camera. Her smile wobbled at them with Cinderella between them. The hot picture of him walking toward her in a tux made her gasp. Her finger stilled at the image she’d taken of Rory wrestling with Cinderella. The smile slipped off her face at the picture of Rory talking and joking with the locals, shirt off, laughing at something. Carefree and happy.

Oh.

She kept flicking through the images. Her heart fluttered uncomfortably, and her hand stole to her throat at the photos of her. Sleeping in the hammock. Curled up in bed. Staring out at sea. Head thrown back in laughter. There were hundreds of her, most of them unscripted. She flicked through pictures of her and Rory dancing and eating lunch. One image of Cinderella’s head. Photos of the bungalows, hibiscus plants, Simi. Everyday normal pictures.

Her vision blurred, and tears squeezed out of the corners of her eyes.

I’ve gone and done the one thing I promised myself I wouldn’t do.

The tangle of knots in her stomach smoothed out. Her heart pulsed liquid love through her veins that grew stronger with each beat.

I love him, and I’m not hiding it.

She put down the camera and walked to the office, unseeing.

Rory was on the telephone, but when she walked in, he looked up and stopped mid-sentence. The color drained from his face, and he ended the call.

“What’s wrong?” He went to stand, but she pushed him back down in the chair.

Putting her hands on the sides of his face, she kissed him, long and tender, conveying with her lips what she felt.

Feel me, Rory. Know what I know.

He pulled back, unease written over his face.

“I saw the pictures on the camera.” Her voice trembled, but she pushed strength into it.

His eyebrows rose, disappearing under his dark, messy hair. “Oh, yeah. I want to download them to a flash drive.”

She rested her forehead against his and her hands on his shoulders. “I saw the photos. The ones of me sleeping. Of you wrestling with Cinderella. The photos of you and Simi building the houses. Photos of the bungalows, the kitchen. Photos of us just hanging. I don’t know how you did it.”

He stared at her like he’d rather have a prostrate exam. “Tripod. I just set up the camera and set it to shoot every two minutes.”

His breath mingled with hers. She pressed her lips against his, tears running down her face.

He pulled back and frowned. “They’re just pictures, Zo. What’s the big deal?”

She shook her head. “No, Rory, they’re not.” She leaned forward and grazed her lips against his. “They are photos of us. Of a home. Everything you need or want is here.”

I’m here.

He jerked as if she’d Tasered him straight in the chest.

He ran his hand through his hair like he always did when he was uncomfortable. Just as he’d done since she’d met him.

He frowned, his eyes scanned her face, and he stood. “You’re reading too much into those pictures.”

She inched forward, trapping him against the wall. She stood on tiptoe and grazed his lips. She threaded her hands around the back of his neck and looked into his eyes.

“Stay,” she breathed, her heart at attack levels. She put her soul into the word.

Look at me, Rory. Look at me and know I love you.

His face paled. “I can’t. This isn’t where I belong. This isn’t me.” His words fell through her.

The blood cooled under her skin. “Look at the photos. They don’t lie. This is your home.” She sucked in a breath, knowing what she needed to say. What she wanted to say.

I’m not hiding from this. From us Not again.

She had to tell him now. “I love you.”

He reared back, scanning her face. “Zo.” He looked toward the desk where he’d left the phone, then he turned back to her. His eyes blazed. “Come with me. Come home.”

Her breath came in heavy bursts. Her heart beat with such sluggish bursts that her blood felt like it was pooling in all the wrong places. She locked her knees to keep from doing something terrible like collapsing. “This is home.”

She tried to look away, but he cupped her face in his hands. “Come back with me, Zo. Come back to our home.”

Her soul shredded, filling her with a darkness that she thought she’d left in L.A. She took a deep, regulating breath. “I belong here.”

“And I don’t.” The words, flat and cold, dropped between them.

With her heart barely beating, she looked up at him, unable to stop the hot tears streaming down her frozen face.

“You love me?” he asked, his face ashen.

“I do,” she whispered.

He kissed her forehead and pulled her to his chest. They sat wrapped in each other. She listened to his heartbeat, strong and sure.

Something painfully obvious lit the inside of her head in flashing neon red. He hadn’t said the words back.

I’m the only one in love here.

She stiffened.

Just me.

He pressed his lips to the top of her head in such tenderness that she had a hard time not sobbing.

Hold it in.

“I should get going.” She pulled back and looked into his questioning eyes. “I’ll download the photos to a flash drive.”

Pulling strength from every cell in her body, she stood and made it to the door on legs the consistency of spun glass.

He didn’t stop her.

Somehow she made it to her bungalow and back into the shower, shedding her clothes as she walked inside her front door and through her bedroom. She let the shower’s tepid water mix with her tears.

I’ve got to get a handle on this.

Four words held her upright with pain.

He doesn’t love me.

She stepped from the shower and wrapped a towel around her hair and another around her body. She stared at her reflection in the mirror. “Well, Zo. You’ve got to hold it together. One more day, and he’s gone. One more day, and you can get on with your life. You can do this. You have to.”

She nodded to her reflection.

No matter how battered and bruised she felt, there was no way Rory would know. She’d royally screwed this up.

She changed into a long summer dress, pulled a comb through her hair, and walked the gangplank to the dining room. The sun had dipped lower in the sky, and a welcome island breeze played across her neck. She glanced out to sea, and puffy clouds skirted along the horizon.

After making a simple supper of salad, freshly grilled fish, and poached tomatoes, she flicked on her iPod but turned it off after half a song. Even ABBA couldn’t do it for her today. She walked to the office and opened the door. Rory was on the phone, deep in a conversation with someone. A dark scowl she hadn’t missed turned his eyes flinty. His mouth set in a flat line as he paced the office, like he was in a maze and unable to find a way out. Without a break in conversation, he put his hand over the mouthpiece.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to join you. Start without me.”

She nodded. “Say hi to the henchmen from me.”

A ghost of a smile gifted his face before he continued pacing.

She walked back to the dining room, picked at her plate of food, and fed Cinderella, who kept looking in the direction of the office, waiting for Rory. She covered his dinner and put it in the fridge. Then she made her way to her bungalow with Cinderella trailing her.

After reading the same page of the romance novel she’d picked up, she realized sleep was going to be a bit of a mystery tonight, so she turned off the lights, wondering if Rory would stay in the office.

Sometime during the night, she was pulled into his warm chest. His arms circled her waist as his leg hooked with hers, and he rearranged her to fit into him. She rested her arm down his bare thigh and wondered whether he ever considered rearranging himself to fit her instead.

He’d left the bedside lamp on, which filled the room in a golden shadow. She turned in his arms, cupped his face between her hands, and kissed him, letting the emotion travel from her lips to his. The hum between their bodies intensified. Her body responded to his as it always did, but the current running from her to him kicked in at a cellular level.

The familiar pull in her pelvis sent a river of liquid between her legs. She dipped forward and tugged the t-shirt over her head.

She pulled him tighter. “Love me, Rory.”

He trailed kisses down her neck, and she arched to receive them. Her skin burned as her blood pulsed hard and heavy through her veins. Her bones were liquid.

Urgent, tender need pulled her breath from her in long puffs. His shorts followed her shirt until the only thing separating them was her damp underwear.

“Zo?” His gaze bored into hers.

She was barely able to swallow, but knowing what this was, she whispered, “Yes.”

His hand roamed over her body, her skin burned, her legs spread wide. The urgent need for him was overwhelming. He propped himself onto an elbow and stared down at her.

His lips claimed her breasts, running circles with his tongue until she thought she’d burst. She groaned when his tongue licked her navel and then licked lower across her belly. She hissed and locked her knees around his head as he licked lower, spreading her legs with his hands, and holding her captive.

Electricity burned through her body, shutting down her brain. Want outmaneuvered need.

Her body arched violently as she climaxed.

He lifted himself over her, and she touched his face, running her finger along his jaw, burning for him.

“You want to…?” He indicated with his finger if she wanted to flip around, the style they’d adopted before they’d split. When it had been more of a biological action.

She didn’t want that anymore.

“No. I want to look at you. I want you to see me.”

With their eyes locked he slid into her. She sighed, wrapped her legs around his hips, and knotted her hands behind his neck, loving the delicious sensations rocking through her. His eyes burned through her. This would be their last time together, and they both knew it.

Dangerous emotions bubbled under the surface, but instead of suppressing them and locking them away, she let the tears fall down her face. He stared at her, his eyes raw.

The sensation became too much, and her body rocked into his, harder, feeling his need for her as much as hers for him. A wave of electricity built in her body, starting at her toes and building. She gripped his shoulders as another orgasm slammed into her. He followed a few seconds later.

They rested, locked together, lost in their separate thoughts, until he turned and pulled her into his chest, arranging her to fit him once more. He linked his leg around hers and kissed the back of her head. She curled into his arms with a silent sob.

“I’ve still got it,” she whispered a short time later.

“What?” He nuzzled the back of her head.

“The Monopoly bracelet. It’s the only thing besides my clothes that I took when I left.”

His heart stilled in his chest, and his fingers flexed around her hip.

He waited until her breathing deepened, kissed the back of her head, and slipped from the bed. He stared down at her until his eyes burned and then made his way to the office.