“Of course.” His eyes held hers, then flicked over her tailored business suit. “Do you have anything to wear Friday night? If not, get yourself something and charge it to me. As a matter of fact, you’ll need a new wardrobe anyway.”
Her back went rigid. “I don’t need any clothes and I definitely don’t need your money. I can afford to buy myself something if I need it.”
“I don’t want my wife walking around in department store clothes.”
Her pride felt bruised. Not all her clothes were off the rack. This suit certainly wasn’t. She liked nice clothes as much as the next woman and sometimes she found real bargains.
She angled her chin at him. “There’s nothing wrong with department store clothes.”
“I didn’t say there was. I just don’t want my wife walking around in them.” She went to speak and he held up his hand. “Do you really want to be the only one wearing cotton instead of silk?”
“Do you really think I care?”
He scrutinized her response, brows drawn together. “No, I don’t think you do.”
Her stomach fluttered.
“You’re lucky, Lana. You’ve got style. You could wear cotton and make it look like silk anyway.”
She gave the softest of gasps, then held her breath, knowing she had to keep this on a professional level.
“Then it won’t matter if I wear department store clothes, will it?” Not waiting for an answer, she quickly stood up.
There was a moment’s pause before he muttered throatily, “Wear what you want.”
“I will.” Suppressing a shiver of trepidation, she walked to the door and didn’t stop until she reached her office, putting some distance between them.
Had she misheard that low pitch to Matt’s voice back there?
Or had it been wishful thinking on her part?
She prayed not.
For either thing.
“Anything good on television tonight?” Matt asked, plopping down on the living room sofa later that day.
Lana had been watching the end of a current affairs program and now she looked up in shock. “You’re staying in?”
“You would prefer me to go out?” he drawled.
“No.” She looked back at the television. “No, it will be nice to have some company,” she admitted, not realizing until this moment how lonely she’d felt each evening.
And that didn’t make sense. She’d always enjoyed her own company, so why was she feeling lonely when nothing really had changed?
“What’s on tonight?” Matt asked, interrupting her thoughts.
“Um…I was going to watch a movie after this.”
“A chick flick?” he said with something like disgust.
She had to smile. “No, not a chick flick. It’s a spy film.”
His gaze rested on her lips a moment; then he turned to the television. “Death and mayhem. That’s more like it.”
Lana swallowed hard, her mind racing. That low pitch had been in his voice again, the way it had today in his office. Oh, she didn’t think he was planning any type of seduction. She had no doubt he was as determined to keep their marriage as platonic as she was.
So why was her trepidation increasing? More importantly, why was her heart thudding with growing excitement? Hadn’t she learned her lesson at all?
The tension in her shoulders relaxed. Her comment about him going out every night must have found its mark.
Yes, that’s all it was.
A few minutes later the movie began and for a little while she even managed to forget about Matt’s presence, until there was a break and he started talking about a review he’d read some time ago.
Trying to appear nonchalant, Lana responded but she wasn’t actually listening. Another part of her was watching his velvet brown eyes, down to those firm lips, over the shadow of his jaw darkened by the end of day, to the bob of his Adam’s apple cushioned by that strong throat.
All of him.
Her gaze traveled back up to his eyes, and she swallowed hard at the awareness in them.
He knew.
Thankfully the movie came back on and she dragged her gaze away until the next break when she decided she couldn’t sit still any longer.
“Would you like some coffee?” she asked, jumping to her feet. “And some cake. Ruth did some baking today.”
“That sounds good.” He unfurled from his chair and stood up, too. “I’ll go check on Megan while you do that.”
They went their separate ways and in the kitchen Lana came up for air. Heavens, she felt like such a novice. Her face was giving away her thoughts as if she were handing them to Matt on a platter.
Oh, look, Matt. I’m hot for you tonight. I need you to make love to me. Come and take me.
She smiled grimly. Maybe someone would come and take her—away. And they should lock her up until she had her head examined for wanting a man who would never commit to any woman.
Ten minutes later they were eating cake and drinking coffee, and she was feeling very proud of herself for focusing back on the movie instead of on Matt.
“You’ve dropped some cream on you,” he muttered.
The spoon stopped halfway to her mouth. “I did? Where?”
“There.”
She looked down to her cle**age, where a blob of cream had fallen. She could feel her cheeks redden. Quickly she scooped it up and licked it off her finger.
“You’ve left some.” He leaned forward with his napkin. “Here. Use this.”
She waved it aside. “That’s okay. I’ve got a napkin around here somewhere.”
“Use this,” he all but growled, and she looked up and saw a hot flash in his eyes that said he’d lick the cream off himself if she didn’t hurry up and do it.
Her pulse skittered as if it were on an icy road.
Hastily she found her napkin. “Look, I’ve found it,” she exclaimed, holding it up. She wiped the spot, then gave an awkward smile. “This cake is so nice, isn’t it?”
A nerve pulsed near his temple. “Very nice.”
Flushing, she turned back to the television. The air throbbed with painful sensuality between them, but somehow she got through to the end of the movie.
As soon as it ended, a starter pistol went off in her mind, but she pretended to yawn oh so casually. “I guess I’d better go to bed,” she said, slowly pushing to her feet when all she wanted to do was run to the door.