She could already envision Ryan laughing at her. He was the picture of the perfect male. Gorgeous, intelligent, well-educated, able to pick and choose women of the highest caliber. Beautiful women, with social standing equal to his.
Instead, he had married his assistant. Not a glamour girl, or a socialite. Just plain and simple Faith. Not love, but a business deal.
She jerked her hand back from the doorknob and fled. As quickly as possible she donned her pajamas and retreated to the bedroom.
When Ryan stepped out of the bathroom Faith was sitting on the chaise. Her hands clenched the edge of the lounge like she was dangling from a cliff.
She looked terrified.
He’d never seen anyone so adorable in his life.
In her cotton pajamas with the long sleeves and legs and blue puffy cloud pattern, she looked like a frightened child. She’d pulled her hair back in a ponytail and chewed her lip nervously.
Ah yes, his calm, serene bride. The one with the death grip on the chaise.
Was he that imposing?
“I see you’re ready for bed,” he said.
She looked up, apparently finished with her examination of the carpet. She paled and looked like she might faint.
Now what was wrong? He had thrown on a pair of boxers instead of coming out of the bathroom stark naked as he was used to. Knowing Faith’s intimacy issues, he hadn’t wanted to give her a heart attack on their first night sleeping together.
So why did she look like she was about to jump out the window?
“Are you all right?” he asked.
She nodded.
“You sure?”
She nodded again.
“Shall we go to bed then?” It was like a game of charades. And he wasn’t even being given hand signals for clues.
She didn’t nod. She simply rose from the lounge like a prisoner heading for the guillotine and stood at the end of the bed.
“Well?” he asked.
“I was waiting to see what side you slept on so I could get in on the opposite side.”
Ever the sacrificing one, wasn’t she?
“What side do you sleep on?” he countered.
“The right.”
Ryan slipped under the covers on the left side of the bed and held the blanket open for her. “Get in, then.”
With agonizing slowness she lay down, turned her back and balanced precariously on approximately four inches of the bed. As far away from him as possible.
Ryan propped himself up on his elbow and watched her try to get into a sleeping position. If he didn’t think he’d scare her out of her wits he’d have laughed. As it was, he was almost afraid to breathe for fear she’d bolt right up, or worse, fall off the bed.
It was like having an ironing board in bed with him. She was barely breathing and sure as hell wasn’t moving. And he could swear the bed shook. Was she cold? Or just scared to death?
At least he couldn’t take it as an insult for being lousy in bed. Unless criticism applied to simply sharing the space.
“Good night, Faith.” Ryan reached up and turned off the light over his side of the bed. And waited.
“Night, Ryan,” she finally answered, so quiet he barely heard her.
He rolled over onto his back and stared at the moonlit ceiling.
He wasn’t in bed with a sixteen-year-old, that much was certain.
Faith was old enough to know some things, even if she was a virgin. And it wasn’t as if he’d told her he was planning to attack her their first night together.
They weren’t strangers, either, so she should know he always kept his word. His word, in business, was as good as a written contract. And Faith knew that.
So what about him frightened her? Was it even him? Her fear was completely unnatural given the circumstances. He’d already agreed to give her two months.
Something else bothered her, something that made her so afraid that he knew if he suggested she camp out on the bedroom floor she’d have jumped at the chance.
He meant to find out what it was.
It hadn’t been at all like Faith thought it would be. The closer it got to bedtime, the more she’d hyperventilated. Why she’d been so afraid she had no idea, but it turned out her fears were groundless.
She had prepared herself for Ryan’s attempts to convince her to have sex. Okay, maybe she could have been persuaded, if she could avoid leaping out of her skin should he touch her.
But she needn’t have worried. Within twenty minutes she’d heard his deep breathing and knew he was asleep.
Then she’d finally exhaled. And tried to ignore the stab of disappointment.
What an idiot. First she’d been scared to death he’d touch her. And now, she was upset because he hadn’t? What did she want from him?
If only she knew.
At least by the second night she wasn’t as panic-stricken as she had been the first, knowing he wouldn’t be pouncing on her the minute she got into bed.
This time, she hadn’t balanced on the edge like a tightrope walker.
And she’d actually managed to sleep.
Good thing, too, because today they’d head back to the office, those first awkward nights almost a distant memory already. The rest of the weekend she’d hardly seen Ryan, only for meals and at bedtime. He’d locked himself in his office claiming paperwork, but she knew it was because he really had no idea what to do with a wife around.
At least they’d have work to do today. By the time she’d awakened this morning, Ryan had already dressed and left the bedroom. Whether that was his usual routine or he’d done it as a courtesy to her, she didn’t know. Either way she dressed and readied herself in a hurry, then went downstairs to find him sitting at the table, reading the newspaper and finishing breakfast.
“Good morning,” she said, taking a seat and smiling her thanks when Margaret brought her a cup of coffee.
“Morning,” he mumbled from behind the Wall Street Journal.
Now that was the Ryan she knew. The one who rarely looked up from whatever document he was engrossed in to even acknowledge her presence. Aloof, businesslike Ryan she could handle.
She rose to fix herself breakfast, but Margaret glared at her and told her to sit down.
The thought of other people doing things for her didn’t seem right, but she sat at the table. “I can cook, Margaret, and I’m sure you have other things to do.”
Margaret shook her head. “The lady of the house does not cook.
That’s my job.”