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  Savannah’s hand closed around her prize.

  “I’m not sure, but I think I saw a pod of whales. It’s a little difficult to tell from this distance.”

  Savannah made busywork about the kitchen, pouring herself a cup of coffee and checking the refrigerator for milk, all the while struggling to hold back her disappointment. She would’ve loved to see a pod of whales, even from a distance.

  “What would you like for breakfast?” she asked, hoping to get their day off to a better start.

  “Bacon, eggs, toast and a kiss.”

  Savannah froze.

  “You heard me right. Come on, Savannah, loosen up. We’re supposed to be madly in love, remember? This isn’t going to work if you act the part of the outraged virgin.”

  What he said was true, but that didn’t make it any easier. She turned away from him and fought down a confused mixture of anger and pain. She wanted to blame him, and knew she couldn’t. She longed to stamp her foot, as she had when she was a little girl, and cry out, “Stop! No more.” No more discord. No more silliness. But it wouldn’t do any good. She was married but resigned to a life of loneliness. These were supposed to be the happiest days of her life and here she was struggling not to weep.

  Nash had moved behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Do you find me so repugnant?” he whispered close to her ear.

  His warm breath was moist. She shut her eyes and shook her head.

  “Then why won’t you let me kiss you?”

  She shrugged, but was profoundly aware of the answer. If Nash kissed her, she’d remember how much she enjoyed his touch. It’d been like that from the beginning. He knew it. She knew it. Now he intended to use that against her.

  He brought his mouth down to her neck and shivers of awareness moved up and down her spine. Needing something to hold on to, Savannah reached for the kitchen counter.

  “One kiss,” he coaxed. “Just one.”

  “Y-you promise?”

  “Of course. Anything you say.”

  She made a small, involuntary movement to turn around. His hands on her shoulders aided the process. She quivered when his mouth met hers and a familiar heat began to warm her. As always, their need for each other was so hot and intense, it frightened her.

  Slowly, he lifted his mouth from hers. “Do you want me to stop?” he asked in a husky whisper.

  Savannah made an unintelligible sound.

  “That’s what I thought,” he said, claiming her mouth again.

  She locked her arms around his neck. Soon the kissing wasn’t enough….

  Savannah felt as though her body was on fire. She’d been empty and lonely for so long. No man had ever kissed her like this. No man had ever wanted her so badly.

  “You don’t want me to stop, do you?” he begged. “Don’t tell me you want me to stop.”

  Incapable of a decision, she made a second unintelligible sound.

  “If we continue like this, we’re going to end up making love on the kitchen floor,” Nash whispered.

  “I don’t know what I want,” she whimpered.

  “Yes, you do. Savannah. If it gets much hotter, we’re both going to explode. Let me make love to you.”

  She started to protest, but he stopped her, dragging his mouth back to hers. Only she could satisfy him, his kisses seemed to be saying. Savannah didn’t know if he was telling her this or if she was hearing it in her mind. It didn’t matter; she got the message.

  “No,” she said with a whimper. She couldn’t give him her body. If they made love, he’d own her completely, and she couldn’t allow that to happen. Someday he was going to walk away from her. Someday he was going to announce that it was over and she was supposed to go on her merry way without him. She was supposed to pretend it didn’t matter.

  “You don’t mean that,” Nash pleaded. “You can’t tell me you don’t want me.” The words were issued in a heated whisper. “Don’t do this, Savannah.”

  She buried her face in his shoulder. “Please…don’t. You promised. You said you’d stop…whenever I asked.”

  He released her then, slowly, her body dragging against his as her feet slid back to the floor. She stepped away from him, anxious to break the contact, desperately needing room to breathe. She pressed her hand to the neckline of her gown and drew in several deep breaths.

  Nash’s eyes were squeezed shut as he struggled to bring himself under control. When he opened them, Savannah swore they were filled with fire.

  Without a word to her, he reached for his jacket, opened the door and walked out.

  She was trembling so hard, she had to pull out a chair and sit down. She didn’t know how long she was there before she felt strong enough to stand, walk back into the bedroom and dress.

  It was a mistake to let him kiss her; she’d known it even as she agreed, known it would be like this between them. Gnawing on her lower lip, she argued with herself. She and Nash had created an impossible situation, drawn up a list of rules and regulations and then insisted on testing each one to the limits of their endurance.

  She’d just placed their coffee cups in the dishwasher when the back door opened and Nash appeared. She studied him. He looked calm and outwardly serene, but she wasn’t fooled. She could see the angry glint in his eyes.

  “If you’re looking for an apology, you can forget it,” he said.

  “I’m…not.”

  “Good.”

  Now didn’t seem the time to mention that he hadn’t helped matters any by suggesting the kiss. Both of them knew what would happen when they started flirting with the physical aspect of their relationship.

  Nash poured himself a cup of coffee. “Let’s sit down and talk this over.”

  “I…don’t know what there is to say,” she said, preferring to avoid the issue completely. “It was a very human thing to happen. You’re an attractive, healthy man with…needs.”

  “And you’re a red-blooded woman. You have needs, too. But admitting that takes real honesty, doesn’t it?”

  Savannah found the remark insulting, but then, Nash didn’t seem inclined to be generous with her. Since she didn’t have an argument to give him, she let it pass.

  “I did some thinking while I walked off my frustration.”

  “Oh?” She was curious about what he’d decided, but didn’t want to press him.

  “The way I see it, I’m setting myself up for constant frustration if we have any more bouts like this last one. If you want to come out of this marriage as pristine as the freshly fallen snow, then far be it from me to hit my head against a brick wall.”

  “I’m not sure I understand.”

  “You don’t need to. You have your wish, Savannah. I won’t touch you again, not until you ask me, and the way I feel right now, you’re going to have to do a whole lot more than ask. You’re going to have to beg.”

  * * *

  Nash hadn’t known it was possible for two human beings to live the way he and Savannah had spent the past two weeks. The so-called honeymoon had been bad enough, but back in civilization, living in his house, the situation had gone from unbearable to even worse. The electricity between them could light up a small city. Yet they continued to ignore their mutual attraction.

  They lived as brother and sister. They slept in separate rooms, inquired about each other’s day, sat at the dinner table every night and made polite conversation.

  In two weeks Nash hadn’t so much as held her hand. He dared not for fear he’d get burned. Not by her rejection, but by their need for each other.

  Part of the problem was the fact that Savannah was a virgin. She didn’t know what she was missing, but she had a fairly good idea, and that added a certain amount of intrigue. He sincerely hoped she was miserable, at least as miserable as he was.

  “Mr. Griffin is here to see you,” his assistant announced.

  Nash stood to greet his client. Don Griffin had lost weight in the past month. Nash had, too, come to think of it. He didn’t have much of an a
ppetite and was working out at the gym most nights after dinner.

  “Did you hear from Janice’s attorney?” Don demanded.

  “Not yet.”

  “Does he normally take this long to return phone calls?” Agitated, Don started to pace.

  “He does when he wants us to sweat,” he said. “Raise Janice’s monthly allotment by five hundred dollars.”

  Nash sighed inwardly. This was a difficult case and not for the usual reasons. “Sit down, Mr. Griffin,” he said. “Please.”

  Don complied and sat down. He bounced his fingers against each other and studied Nash as he leaned back in his chair.

  “Janice hasn’t requested any extra money,” Nash said.

  “She might need it. Amy, too. There are a hundred unexpected expenses that crop up. I don’t want her having to scrimp. It’s important to me that my wife and daughter live comfortably.”

  “You’ve been more than generous.”

  “Just do as I say. I’m not paying you to argue with me.”

  “No, you’re paying me for advice and I’m about to give you some, so kindly listen. It doesn’t come cheap.”

  Don snorted loudly. “No kidding. I just got your last bill.”

  Nash smiled. His clients were often shocked when they learned how expensive divorce could be. Not only financially, but emotionally. Nash had seen it happen more times than he cared to think about. Once his clients realized how costly a divorce could be, they were already embroiled in bitterness and it was impossible to undo the damage.

  “Do you know what you’re doing, giving Janice extra money?” he asked.

  “Sure I do. I’m attempting to take care of my wife and daughter.”

  “You’re already doing that. Offering them more money is more about easing your conscience. You want to absolve your guilt because you had an affair.”

  “It wasn’t an affair,” Don shouted. “It was a one-night thing, a momentary lapse that I’ve regretted every moment since. Janice would never have found out about it if it hadn’t been for—never mind, that doesn’t matter now. She found out about it and immediately called an attorney.”

  “My point is, she learned about your indiscretion and now you want to buy peace of mind. Unfortunately, it doesn’t work like that.”

  “All I’m trying to do is get this divorce over with.”

  Tony Pound, Janice’s attorney, wasn’t a fool. He knew exactly what he was doing, dragging the proceedings out as long as possible to prolong the guilt and the agony. To Nash’s way of thinking, his client had been punished enough.

  “This is one mistake you aren’t going to be paying monetarily for the rest of your life,” Nash assured him. “And I plan to make sure of it. That’s why John Stackhouse asked me to take your case. You’ve lost your wife, your home, your daughter. You’ve paid enough. Now go back to your apartment and relax. I’ll contact you when I hear from Mr. Pound.”

  Don Griffin nodded reluctantly. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

  “It shouldn’t be much longer,” Nash assured him.

  He rose slowly from the chair. “You’ll be in touch soon?”

  Nash said he would. Don left the office and Nash sat down to review his file for the hundredth time. He was missing something, he realized. That cold-blooded instinct for the kill.

  He wasn’t enjoying this, wasn’t even close to experiencing the satisfaction he usually gained from bringing his opponents to their knees. Somewhere along the line he’d changed. He’d sensed things were different shortly after he’d met Savannah. Now there was no hiding his feelings. He’d lost it. Only, he wasn’t sure what he’d found in exchange.

  “Have you got a moment?” John Stackhouse stuck his head in Nash’s office.

  “Sure. What can I do for you?”

  The senior partner was smiling from ear to ear. “Would you mind coming down to the meeting room?”

  Nash’s pulse accelerated wildly. The executive committee had been meeting with the other senior partners that afternoon to make their recommendation for new senior partner.

  “I got the position?” Nash asked hesitantly.

  “I think that would be a fair assessment,” the older man said, slapping Nash on the shoulder. “It wasn’t a hard decision, Nash. You’re a fine attorney and an asset to this firm.”

  * * *

  A half hour later, Nash rushed out of the office and drove directly to Savannah’s shop. As luck would have it, she was busy with a customer. He tried to be patient, tried to pretend he was some stranger who’d casually strolled in.

  Savannah looked at him with wide, questioning eyes and he delighted in unnerving her by blowing her a kiss.

  “When did you say the wedding was?” she asked the smartly dressed businesswoman who was leafing through a book of invitations.

  “In December.”

  “You have plenty of time, but it’s a good idea to set your budget now. I’ll be happy to assist you in any way I can.”

  “I appreciate that,” Nash heard the woman say.

  He wandered over to her desk and sorted through her mail. Without being obvious, Savannah walked over to where he was sitting, took the envelopes from him and gently slapped his hands. “Behave yourself,” she said under her breath.

  “I have a few extra expenses coming up,” he said in a low whisper. “I hope you’re doing well. I might need a loan.”

  “What expenses?” she asked in the same low voice.

  “New business cards, stationery and the like.”

  “New stationery?” she repeated more loudly.

  The customer turned around. “I’m sorry,” Savannah said apologetically. “I was commenting on something my husband said.”

  The woman smiled graciously. “I thought you two must be married. I saw the way you looked at each other when he walked in the door.”

  Neither Nash nor Savannah responded.

  Savannah started to walk away, when Nash caught her hand. It was the first time he’d purposely touched her since the morning after their wedding. Apparently it caught her by surprise, because she turned abruptly, her gaze seeking out his.

  “I’m the new senior partner.”

  Savannah’s eyes lit up with undisguised delight. “Nash, oh, Nash.” She covered her mouth with both hands and blinked back tears. “Congratulations.”

  “If you don’t mind, I’ll come back another time with my fiancé,” Savannah’s customer said.

  “I’m sorry,” Savannah said, limping toward the woman.

  “Don’t apologize. Celebrate with your husband. You both deserve it.” When she reached the front door, she turned the sign to “Closed,” winked at Nash and walked out of the store.

  “When did you find out?” Savannah asked, rubbing her index finger beneath her eye.

  “About half an hour ago. I thought we’d go out to dinner and celebrate.”

  “I…don’t know what to say. I’m so happy for you.”

  “I’m happy, too.” It was difficult not to take her in his arms. He stood and walked away from her rather than break his self-imposed restriction.

  “Where are you going?” Savannah asked, sounding perplexed.

  “I need to keep my distance from you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I want to hold you so much, my arms ache.”

  Savannah broke into a smile. “I was just thinking the same thing,” she said, opening her arms to him.

  Twelve

  Nash checked his watch for the time, set aside the paper and hurried into the kitchen. It was his night to cook and he’d experimented with a new recipe. If anyone had told him he’d be hanging around a kitchen, fretting over elaborate recipes, he would’ve stoutly denied such a thing could even happen.

  Marriage had done this to him, and to his surprise Nash wasn’t complaining. He enjoyed their arrangement, especially now that they were on much friendlier terms. The tension had lessened considerably following the evening they’d celebrated his app
ointment as senior partner. It felt as if the barriers were gradually being lowered.

  He was bent over the oven door when he heard Savannah come into the house. She’d called him at the office to let him know she’d be late, which had become almost a nightly occurrence.

  “I’m home,” she said, entering the kitchen. She looked pale and worn-out. He’d never have guessed September would be such a busy month for weddings. Savannah had overbooked herself and spread her time and energy much too thin. He’d resisted the urge to lecture her, although it’d been difficult.

  “Your timing couldn’t be better,” he said, taking the sausage, cabbage and cheese casserole out of the oven and setting it on the counter. The scent of spicy meat filled the kitchen.

  “That smells delicious,” Savannah said, and Nash beamed proudly. He’d discovered, somewhat to his surprise, that he enjoyed cooking. Over the years he’d learned a culinary trick or two, creating a small repertoire of dinners. Nothing, however, that required an actual recipe. Now he found himself reading cookbooks on a regular basis.

  “I’ve got the table set if you’re ready to eat,” he told her.

  “You must’ve known I was starving.”

  “Did you skip lunch again today?” he asked, using oven mitts to carry the glass casserole dish to the table. Once again he had to stop himself from chastising her. Their peace was too fragile to test. “Sit down and I’ll bring you a plate.”

  It looked as if Savannah was in danger of falling asleep as he joined her at the table.

  “Nash,” she said after the first taste, “this is wonderful!”

  “I’m glad you approve.”

  “Keep this up and you can do all the cooking,” she teased, smiling over at him.

  Nash set his fork aside and folded his hands. He couldn’t keep silent any longer. “You’re working too hard.”

  She lowered her gaze and nodded. “I know. I scheduled the majority of these weddings soon after our own. I…I thought it would be a good idea if I spent as much time at the shop as possible.”

  In other words, less time with him. “I hope you’ve changed your mind.”