The Oilman s Baby Bargain Page 6

  At this rate, it wouldn’t be long before she could tell him about the baby.

  Following Tara’s instructions to the letter, Lexi seasoned the lamb shank and popped it in the oven. And though it took a minute of pushing buttons, the oven finally beeped and turned on. She peeled the potatoes and carrots next, then put them aside to add to the roasting pan forty minutes before the lamb was done. Until then, she didn’t have much to do, so she went looking for Mitch.

  She found him sacked out in a lounge chair by the pool, sleeping so deeply, he was snoring. It looked as though she’d worn the poor guy out. For a second, she considered all the creative ways she could wake him, most using her mouth, but he looked so peaceful, she didn’t have the heart.

  Instead, she stretched out in the chair beside him to get some sun, but her eyes felt heavy and in no time she drifted into a deep sleep, and had strange and erotic dreams about Mitch. Hazy, disjointed images of bare skin and feelings of intense sexual sensation flooded her. She could smell him, taste the flavor of his mouth and skin. She could feel the weight of his hands touching her, her hair tangled in his fingers, the flex of her muscles as she took him deep inside her body. The strum of sensation on her nerve endings.

  Not a strum so much as a loud hum. And the hum grew louder, the sound filling her head until it was more annoying than arousing. A sharp, piercing bleat.

  Her eyes flew open and she realized the sound wasn’t in her dream. It was coming from the house, through the open door that led to the kitchen…and was that smoke she was seeing?

  Wide awake now, she jumped from the chair, grabbed her cover-up and tugged it on as she dashed for the house. She was stunned by what she encountered in the kitchen.

  Acrid smoke hung in the air, the oven sat open and empty and the pan the roast had been in was sitting in the sink under a flow of water. She could only assume that the black lump was the charred remains of the lamb shank. Mitch stood in the middle of the room in his swim trunks, fanning the smoke detector with a broom.

  Oh, God, what had she done this time?

  Mitch finally looked over and saw her standing there, watching him. He flashed her a smile and said, “The lamb is done.”

  After the dishwasher fiasco this morning, there didn’t seem to be much point in trying to blame it on the oven. She had obviously screwed up again. Only this time, instead of flooding the house, it looked as though she’d nearly burned it down.

  They had made some real progress today, and now she’d ruined it. She couldn’t even imagine what he must be thinking, and she wondered how long it would be before she and the baby were out on the street.

  Mitch swung the broom around and, using the handle end, gave the smoke detector a solid whack. It gave one final bleat, then fell silent. Which was even worse than the deafening screech.

  She opened her mouth to say something, apologize maybe, but words escaped her.

  Mitch walked over to the sink and turned off the tap, looking down at the soggy remains of dinner. “We should probably open a few windows to let the smoke out.”

  “I’ll get the family room,” she said, eager to skulk away in shame. This could go one of two ways. He would be completely exasperated with her and make her feel like a total dope, or he would be understanding and sweet, all the while thinking that she was a lost cause.

  She honestly wasn’t sure which would be more humiliating.

  When every window on the main floor was open, she walked back to the kitchen where Mitch was closing the oven and shutting it off. She couldn’t tell if he was angry, or just resigned to the fact that he’d married a domestic disaster.

  She gestured to the sink, taking a feeble stab at humor. “Was the lamb thirsty, or is this your way of telling me it’s too dry for your taste?”

  “I couldn’t find the lid or fire extinguisher, so this was the only way to douse the flames.”

  Flames? It had actually been on fire?

  Just when she thought she couldn’t be more embarrassed, she discovered a whole new level of humiliation. “I don’t suppose you would believe me if I said the lamb was supposed to catch on fire.”

  He cracked a smile.

  “So, what did I do wrong this time?” she asked, even though she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. She couldn’t imagine he would ever let her near the kitchen again, much less cook something.

  “The oven was on broil instead of bake.”

  Which meant what, exactly? She thought meat was supposed to broil. Her confusion must have been obvious because he added, “Bake warms the entire oven uniformly and allows food to cook slower. Broil is a direct flame right over the pan and cooks things much faster. Obviously.”

  Something she would have known if she’d ever used an oven before.

  “I’m sorry I murdered dinner,” she said.

  He shrugged, again like it wasn’t a big deal. “Unless you’re a pyromaniac, which I seriously doubt, it was an honest mistake.”

  She wanted to believe he felt that way, but he had to be realizing how truly useless she was. What would her next honest mistake be? Accidental poisoning?

  Maybe there was a reason her father had kept her so sheltered. Maybe he could see that left to her own devices, she was a danger to herself and others.

  “I suppose it’s obvious that I’ve never cooked before. Or used a dishwasher.”

  “Seriously?” he asked, trying to look surprised, but he was a terrible liar.

  She shot him a look.

  “Okay,” he admitted. “I sort of had that feeling.”

  “I appreciate that you choked down breakfast despite how awful it was.”

  He shrugged. “It wasn’t that bad.”

  “Yes, it was. We would probably both be safer if you cooked from now on.”

  “What makes you think I can cook?”

  “You can’t be any worse than me. I should stay as far away as possible from the kitchen.”

  “How are you going to learn if you don’t try?”

  “I did try, and I almost burned the house down! I’m useless.”

  He huffed out an exasperated breath. “What is it with you and this low self-esteem? You are not useless. And if you really would like to learn, when we get back to Texas we’ll enroll you in a cooking class.”

  She shook her head. “No, my father would never allow it. He considers it beneath me.”

  “Your father isn’t the one calling the shots. You’re married to me now, and you have a say in your own life.”

  At first, she thought he was just making fun of her, but then she realized he was serious. Unfortunately, it wasn’t that simple. “If he finds out, he’ll be furious, and you still need his senatorial support.”

  “Let me worry about that.”

  He would risk his relationship with her father just so she could have a couple of cooking lessons? She narrowed her eyes, still not sure if she could trust him, wondering if this was some twisted game to him. “You’re serious?”

  “Yes. Very serious.” He folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the counter. “Out of curiosity, what else has your father kept you from doing?”

  She considered his question for a minute, then said, “It would probably be easier to tell you what he did let me do, since it’s a far shorter list.”

  Mitch shook his head. “My father could be a real bastard, but I’m beginning to wonder if I didn’t have it so rough, after all.”

  It was the first time he had ever said anything to her about his family. Of course, she had never really asked. “What did he do to you?”

  “Suffice it to say, the slug to the jaw I took from Lance was nothing in comparison.”

  “Your father hit you?”

  “On a regular basis. But it sounds worse than it was. I got over it.”

  Why did she get the feeling he really hadn’t?

  “So, what are we going to do about dinner?” he asked.

  She looked over at the sink, at the remains of the lamb shank. “Don’t
look at me. I’m not going anywhere near the stove until I get those lessons.”

  “In that case, why don’t we get dressed and go into the village?”

  That sounded like the perfect solution to her. “Give me fifteen minutes.”

  Seven

  W hat the hell was wrong with him?

  Mitch walked with Lexi down the dirt road to Tzia, the local village, wondering what the hell he’d been thinking today when he carried her into his bedroom. So much for treating this marriage like a business deal. But when she’d accused him of finding her repulsive, and he realized she actually meant it, that she wasn’t just manipulating him, the hurt look she wore had done something to his brain. What choice did he have but to show her how wrong she was?

  And what was all that crap about cooking lessons? Where the hell had that come from? He didn’t care if she could cook or not. But again she had looked so helpless and dejected. He couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. Which was probably exactly what she wanted. But there was a small part of him that kept wondering, what if it wasn’t an act?

  She’d reached for his hand as they left the villa, and what was he supposed to do? Refuse to hold it? Tell her he didn’t think it was appropriate? They were married. He could feel himself getting sucked into…something, although as genuine as her feelings seemed to be, he couldn’t shake the suspicion that she had ulterior motives. They had agreed this was going to be business and nothing more, and he was determined to stick to that. As soon as they got back to Texas. He figured by then they would have gotten this nagging sexual attraction out of the way and would both be sick of each other.

  At least he hoped so.

  They reached the village just before sundown. As they passed under the arch leading inside, the beauty of the architecture stunned him. They strolled down cobbled streets lined with shops, crowded bars, and outdoor cafés. There was even a gallery whose front window boasted the works of famous Greek artists such as Tsarouhis, Fasianos, and Stathopoulos.

  After some browsing, they chose a quiet café at the north end of the village and sat outside under a thick blanket of stars. He ordered an ouzo and though he tried to convince Lexi to try it, she opted for a bottled water, instead. In D.C., she had always had a glass or two of wine with dinner.

  “Are you sure you don’t want something to drink?” he asked after the server left the table.

  “I’m sure.”

  “Wine or beer?”

  She smiled, a warm breeze blowing the hair back from her face. “Why, are you planning to get me drunk?”

  If he’d learned one thing in the past couple of days, it was that he didn’t need the aid of alcohol to have his way with her. They ordered their food, both choosing authentic Greek favorites, but when it came, Lexi just picked at it.

  “You don’t like it?” he asked.

  “No, it’s good. I’m just not very hungry.”

  As far as Mitch could tell, she’d barely eaten anything since they left the U.S., and maybe it was his imagination, but she looked thinner than she’d been that night in D.C. He didn’t remember her collarbones being so pronounced and her cheeks so hollow. He knew she was insecure, but would she drive herself to the point of anorexia? Or what if she was sick? Something more dangerous than airsickness and jet lag?

  “Is something wrong?” he asked.

  His question seemed to surprise her. “No, why?”

  “You’ve hardly eaten a thing since we left Texas. Are you sick?”

  There was the slightest pause before she smiled and assured him, “I’m fine, really.” But he couldn’t escape the feeling that she wasn’t being completely honest with him. Although, what reason would she have to lie?

  By the time they finished eating, most of the shops had locked their doors and the bars looked overcrowded and smoky, so they headed back to the villa with nothing but the full moon to light their way. The air had cooled and it was so silent, Mitch could hear the thump of his own heart.

  Once again, she reached for his hand and rather than fight it, he twined his fingers through hers.

  She surprised him by asking, “Did your father hit Lance, too?”

  His father wasn’t a subject he liked to discuss, but in all fairness, he had been the one to bring it up earlier. “Lance, me, our mother—until she’d had enough, packed her bags and left.”

  “Your mother left without you?”

  “As Lance likes to say, she had her reasons.”

  “My father never hit me, but in a weird way I wish he would have.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “At least then I would know that he felt something. After my mom died he just…shut down. I did everything I could to make him happy, everything he ever asked, but I still felt invisible.”

  If what she said was true, maybe she didn’t have the spoiled and pampered life after all. Maybe she was just as bitter and confused as everyone else. Or maybe she was one hell of a good actress. Either way, this conversation was getting a little too personal. She needed to understand that when they got back to Texas, things would change.

  But what if she didn’t understand that? What if, God forbid, she thought she was falling in love with him? He knew how it was for women like Lexi. They decided on something they wanted and went after it with a vengeance, all pistons firing. Right up until the second they got bored and found a new toy to amuse them.

  “We should probably talk about how things will be when we get back to Texas,” he said.

  She gazed up at him, her skin luminous in the moonlight. “What things?”

  “Us. Our relationship.”

  “Okay.”

  “I just think I should be clear about a few things. I’m a very busy man, and I like to do things, to live my life, a certain way. You should know that I don’t intend to change.”

  She nodded silently, but he had the distinct impression he’d hurt her feelings. If he had, he was sorry for that, but it was important they were both clear on the way things would be.

  “As we agreed before, this is a business deal. Nothing more.”

  “Of course,” she said, but he could swear there was a slight waver in her voice. An edge of disappointment. Maybe she really believed things had changed. Well, that wasn’t his problem.

  Then why did he feel so damned guilty?

  She was silent the rest of the walk home. When they walked in the door, he expected that they would go their separate ways, to their own beds, but she stunned him by keeping hold of his hand and leading him to his bedroom. The sex was so passionate and intense, for a while he almost forgot that it wasn’t real. As she lay naked beside him, her body curled around his, the idea of this ending seemed almost inconceivable. But he had never been one to mistake sex for affection or love. When she tired of the arrangement and pulled her inevitable disappearing act, he wouldn’t be sorry to see her go.

  Though Mitch’s words stung and she seriously considered giving up, Lexi chose to disregard what he’d said about their marriage and forge ahead with her plan.

  They spent the better part of the next six days in bed, or in various other places, having sex. And when they weren’t climbing all over each other, or collapsing with sheer exhaustion, they sunned themselves by the pool or went for walks and explored the shops in the village. Sometimes they just talked about his work, or their families. There was so much about him she didn’t know—and wanted to learn.

  As the days passed, she slowly began to realize that not only did she have real feelings for Mitch, she was almost positive she was falling in love with him. But since she had never been in love before, she couldn’t be one hundred percent sure. She only knew that it had to be something very special, and she didn’t doubt that he was feeling it, too.

  Since that night walking back from the village, he hadn’t said a word about the marriage being just business. Instead, he’d shown his affection for her in a hundred little ways.

  She was confident that in a week or so, if all continued to go well, s
he would be able to tell him about the baby. Then she could finally stop feeling as though she was walking on eggshells, constantly conscious of everything she said and did.

  She could finally relax and be happy.

  Their last night in Greece, she lay beside Mitch, listening to his deep, heavy breathing as he slept, knowing she should get up and go to her own room, but feeling too lazy to move. She always waited until he was asleep to slip away. As much as she would have loved to spend all night with him, she was still getting sick every morning. Soon though, he would know about the baby, and she could stop hiding. But for now, she really needed to get up.

  Five more minutes, she told herself, letting her eyes drift shut and cuddling up against Mitch’s side.

  When she opened her eyes again, sunshine was pouring in the windows. Mitch was behind her, his breathing slow and deep as he slept, but one part of his anatomy was already wide awake.

  As she was considering the most pleasurable way to wake the rest of him, she felt a familiar lurch in her stomach. She broke out in a sudden cold sweat and a wave of nausea overwhelmed her. Swallowing back the bile rising in her throat, she slid out of bed as quietly as possible and pulled on her nightgown. There was no time to make it to her own bedroom. She had no choice but to use Mitch’s bathroom. She reached the commode just as her stomach violently emptied. The spasms were so intense, she was convinced she would look down and find an internal organ or two floating around. When she was finished, her entire body felt limp and shaky. She sat on the floor and rested her face against the cool tile wall.

  “Are you all right?”

  Lexi’s eyes flew open. Mitch was standing in the doorway, wearing only his boxers, his hair mussed from sleep, concern etched on his face. Damn it! She should have shut and locked the door.