The Contract by Marsh, Nicola (read aloud books .txt) 📕

For the man who preferred his office to his home to jump over the moon about fathering a child?

He reached over and plucked the magazine from her fiddling hands. “Don’t go getting emotional on me. You knew the score when we married. Sure, I want a child. In fact, the sooner the better.”

“Why?”

Once again, he didn’t meet her eyes. “Isn’t that what you want?”

“How did you know? And since when did what I want come first?” She didn’t understand his turn-around. In fact, she didn’t understand anything about the enigmatic man she’d married, period.

“I saw the way you acted around the kids at the carnival. Not to mention the hope on your face when Grandma looked at your stomach and mentioned the possibility of pregnancy. You want a child, I’m not going to stand in your way.”

She quelled her sudden flare of hope. “Having a child is a huge step. I won’t bring a defenceless baby into this world unless both parents are willing to give it all the love and support it deserves.”

“And you think I can’t do that?” He crossed his arms, his anger evident in his rigid neck muscles.

A vision of the Rockwell mansion and its matriarch in all their icy splendour flashed to mind and she wondered if this man who had grown up there was capable of any emotion remotely resembling love. “Money can’t buy love, Steve.”

His gaze skimmed her body, as if reinforcing he’d certainly paid a price to obtain her.

Fury surged through her and she took a steadying breath before she did something stupid, like slam his meal tray into his lap and permanently damage any chance he may have of fathering offspring. “So, did you get value for money on this deal?”

“Don’t cheapen what we have, Amber.”

Her anger must’ve tainted her sight, for she could’ve sworn she saw a flicker of hurt in his eyes. “I didn’t do that. You did, the minute you offered to bail out my father’s business in exchange for a bride.”

His eyes narrowed to an electrifying grey. “And your complaint is?”

She wanted to scream, to smash open the tiny window and jump out of the plane, parachute be damned. “You don’t get it, do you? I don’t like being controlled. I don’t like being told what to do. And I especially don’t like you sitting there like some paragon of virtue and pretending like you want to bring children into this farce of a marriage.”

He stared at her as if she’d grown two heads. “Are you finished?”

How did he do it? That ultra cool facade, the thinned lips, the smirk, the slight tilt of an eyebrow. Arrogant jerk...and she was stupid enough to have fallen for him.

She didn’t respond. Instead, she turned away and stared out the window, hoping he would leave her alone.

“This isn’t finished, sweetheart. Not by a long shot.”

She frowned and tried to ignore the waft of his intoxicating signature aftershave as he leaned towards her.

His voice dropped seductively low. “Who knows? You might even want to practice making babies when we get home?”

Despite her best intentions, her stiff posture softened at the thought of them in bed together. A slow-burning heat flooded her body at the memory of his hands, his tongue and his consummate skill at wielding them. He didn’t touch her, he didn’t have to. She would have joined the mile-high club in an instant if he’d asked. Thankfully, she mustered every last ounce of resolve and continued to ignore him.

She sensed his capitulation as he settled back in his seat, leaving her to blot out her erotic thoughts. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on meditating in an effort to centre her psyche. However, for the first time in her life, the image of a man disrupted her deep relaxation.

Worse, she pictured him cradling a child in his arms.

* * *

Steve left for the office earlier than usual the next morning, despite the late hour they had arrived home. He needed to get away from Amber so he could think, the one activity he could barely do in her all-invasive presence. She captivated him to the point where he had trouble concentrating on what she said most of the time, with his attention drifting to the remembered delights of her mouth and other equally appealing parts of her anatomy. And despite their harsh exchange on the plane, she’d welcomed him with open arms last night as soon as they entered the bedroom. Well, the shower to be precise.

What a woman. Their marriage of convenience was fast becoming a union of need. He wanted his wife like he’d never wanted any other woman and it scared him. Terrified him. He could never let her know the power she held over him otherwise she might use it, like his mother once had.

As if the mere thought of his mother had conjured her up, the phone rang.

“Yes, Chelsea?” He picked up the phone, knowing it had to be her and wishing otherwise.

“Your mother on line one, Mr. Rockwell.”

He rubbed his forehead. “Put her through, thanks.”

“Steven, darling. So nice of you to pop in yesterday.”

He swallowed a sigh. “You’ve been on my case for weeks about meeting Amber.”

“Ah yes...Amber.” She paused and Steve braced himself for the sure-fire character assassination that would follow. For once, his mother didn’t disappoint. “She seems to be rather... bohemian.”

“I prefer interesting.”

He heard a polite sniff. “I know what you find so interesting in that common tramp—”

“Stop right there. You’re talking about my wife.” He snapped the pencil he held in two, a habit he’d picked up when speaking to his mother.

“How could you, Steven? After all the nice young women I’ve introduced you