Judy Hubbard - These Arms of Mine

“Tell me whatever you want.”

He smiled slightly at her tone, which infuriated her. Why did he always act as if she amused him? He was so frustrating!

“To refresh your memory, I’m thirty-six, born and raised in Washington. I was an only child. My parents are deceased. My favorite food is Italian.” He rambled off facts she was mortified to realize she still remembered.

“I’ll make a mental note of all that.”

“You do that.” He leaned forward. “Let’s discuss specifics, shall we?”

What he really wanted to do was touch her—to experience the softness of her skin for a much longer duration than yesterday’s brief contact. He wanted to release her bountiful mane from its clasp, bury his face in the feathery soft tresses and see firsthand if they were as silky and soft as he remembered. He wanted to devour those pouting, luscious lips…

“All right, but I have one condition.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re in no position to make any demands.”

His arrogance was born out of desperation rather than disdain. He didn’t want to be cold with her, but it was either that or make a complete fool of himself by acting on his longings.

The hair on her neck stood on end at his insufferable tone. However, her voice was measured when she responded. “I realize that, but I really must insist on this one.”

“What is it?”

“My mother must believe our marriage is real. I don’t want to upset her.”

Did she imagine the softening of his features at her sincere confession? That was ridiculous. He hated her and marriage to him would be his ultimate revenge.

Much to her surprise, he agreed. “Fair enough. Everyone has to believe our marriage is real—that includes your mother.” At her continued silence, he said, “Anything else?”

“Yes.” She paused, trying to find the best way to phrase her next request.

“Well…” He drummed his fingers on the desktop, not out of frustration or impatience, but to keep them from trying to touch her.

“I’d like us to be engaged for a few months so that my mother will buy our relationship.”

His fingers immediately stilled. “Impossible.”

“Why not?”

“I have a little over a year until the election. We must be married as soon as possible.” He paused, considering a compromise. “I can give you a month at the most.”

What he didn’t tell her was that he doubted he could wait longer than that to quench his burning desire for her—he prayed he wouldn’t go mad trying. Damn her and him! Why, after all that had transpired between them in the past, did she still have the power to unnerve him the way no other woman ever had?

“This will never work, you know.” She shook her head.

“It will work.” He smiled confidently. “Wait and see.”

“If you say so.” Her tone belied her skepticism.

“Do I need to remind you what I expect from this marriage?” His gray eyes bore into hers.

Nervously wringing her hands in her lap, she warily met his gaze. “No.”

“You’re positive?” He stood and walked slowly toward her until he reached her side.

“I’m positive.” She also stood to be on a more level plane with him.

“Don’t say you didn’t know what to expect.”

“Is there anything else?” She unflinchingly met his determined gaze.

“Just three things.”

He motioned for her to resume her seat, which she did reluctantly. He perched on the desk in front of her. He wished she would stop looking so sad, as if she were being handed a death sentence.

“What are they?”

“First of all, I don’t know whether you’re on birth control or not, but if not, you will need to start immediately.”

She felt her cheeks grow warm at his intimate demands. How could he expect her to discuss such things with him! His words made her fully aware of what their relationship would be, and all she could do was stare at him in embarrassment.

“Since this is only a business arrangement, neither of us needs or wants any unnecessary complications.”

She found her voice and whispered resentfully, “Why is it always the woman’s responsibility?”

“Well, I can’t speak for other men, but as for me, I dislike the feel of a condom. I don’t want anything to come between me and…”

“I’ll take care of it.”

She blushed hotly at his blatant admission, wanting to get off this subject as soon as possible. She reached up to touch her suddenly constricted throat.

He smiled at her as his eyes moved down her face to rest on her slightly quivering, espresso-colored lips, before traveling slowly back up to encounter her distraught eyes, and his smile deepened. However, there was something else present in her eyes—a deep longing, an expectation, a need. He saw it there, silently admitting that it echoed similar smoldering feelings within him.

She really was delicious. He had a feeling he was going to enjoy being married to her very much—while it lasted. He forced himself to mentally add the last observation and forcefully reminded himself that theirs would only be a brief alliance to purge her from his life once and for all. He didn’t want or need anything more permanent.

“What’s number two?” Her voice was breathless as she brought a hand up to her suddenly burning cheeks.

“It concerns your job.” His tones took on an ominous ring.

“What about it?”

“You’ll have to give it up.”

Her eyes changed from wary to disbelieving to angry as she glared at him. He felt an absurd desire to pull her in his arms and tell her everything was going to be all right.

“Give up nursing? Why?”

“The main reason for this marriage is so that I will have a ready-made hostess. You’ll have to be available at a moment’s notice. That’s hardly possible for someone in your profession.”

“I love my work. I don’t suppose that matters to you.”

“I understand, and I know that you’re very good at it.” The sympathy in his voice was overshadowed by the sacrifice he was asking her to make.

“How do you know that?”

“Have you forgotten that I saw you in action when we first met at the accident scene?”

She remembered everything about their intense first meeting. It had been a multivehicle accident that both had stopped to help at. He had been strong, unshakable at the sight of blood and torn flesh and had been very receptive to taking orders from a woman.

“No, I haven’t forgotten.”

He had watched the play of emotions flit across her beautiful face. He wanted to ask if she remembered every detail of their breakup, too, but that was unnecessary. Finally having her in his presence again, he wanted to know why she had shut him out of her life. To this day, her rejection still rankled him, and that was one thing he was fighting tooth and nail to keep from her.

“What else do I have to give up?”

“Are you agreeing to my second condition, or do we end this right here?” His hooded eyes watched her carefully.

“Yes, what’s your third condition?”

Her words should have thrilled him, yet instead they cut through him like a hot knife. He didn’t know why he had the urge to apologize to her or why her understandable unhappiness made him so unhappy. He reminded himself that this was only a business arrangement, not an emotional entanglement. Either she agreed to his terms, or he would call the deal off and have her brother prosecuted. He wasn’t forcing her to marry him. She had a choice—one he knew she wouldn’t take—but a choice nonetheless.

“My third condition is this.”

Unable to hold himself in check another second, he stood and slid one strong arm beneath her coat around her slender waist, pulling her closer as his other hand moved to the back of her head, pulling her lips toward his.