Free Between the Lines by Jayne Ann Krentz Page A

content together.
    If Gray was really waiting for her to come on to him like a lusty, impassioned little nymphomaniac, he would wait forever. Amber wasn't about to get that carried away by her own emotions or desires. But perhaps she could give her husband a few more overt hints tonight. Surely with a few gentle pushes he would realize that they could be quite happy and satisfied with each other in bed as well as out of it. And perhaps if he were content with her in that department, he would stop pushing for answers about her past, answers Amber didn't have.
    Amber didn't fully understand why Gray was holding out for some sign of overwhelming passion from her in the first place. He hadn't seemed to want it when he'd asked her to marry him. She'd never had any indication that he was the type to demand a sizzling, tempestuous female in his bed. He'd seemed quite content with the bargain he had made with her. Perhaps it was the emergence of some aspect of latent male ego, Amber thought ruefully. Whatever it was, she intended to try to overcome his scruples and doubts tonight. The relationship between them during the day was as normal and smooth-running as it had always been, if one discounted that small scene in the canyon this afternoon. There was no reason the nights shouldn't also become normal and smooth-running.
    Amber stepped away from the mirror with a flounce of her brightly colored skirts. She had decided to wear her hair down for the evening. It danced around her bare shoulders in a bouncy sweep of golden-brown curls. She picked up the oversized Mexican straw purse she had bought to go with her vividly colored new clothes and swung it over her arm. Then she opened her bedroom door.
    Gray was seated in a wicker chair reading a newspaper. He'd reluctantly consented to buy an embroidered open-throated white shirt that had been made in Acapulco. It was his sole contribution toward the evening's festivities. With it he wore slacks. His dark hair was combed into its usual severe style. It was still damp from the shower. He looked up as Amber came into the room. She smiled and did a small pirouette.
    "How do I look?" she asked.
    "As though you're about to fall out of that blouse," he retorted, looking both surprised and disapproving.
    "Nonsense. All the other women are going to be wearing blouses just like it tonight. They were selling like hotcakes in the dress shop this afternoon. Ready to go?"
    "Not quite." Deliberately he got to his feet and walked across the room to stand in front of her. He was still frowning at the low neckline of the blouse. "Can't you pull it up a bit higher?"
    "Why should I?" she asked innocently. "It was made to be worn this way. It's not any worse than a swim-suit, Gray."
    "It's a lot worse than your swimsuit." He put his hand on her bare shoulder and slid his fingers just under the elasticized edge of the blouse.
    Amber was so startled at the unexpectedly intimate touch that she nearly stumbled when she automatically stepped backward. Her eyes met Gray's in a moment of shared communication that sent a wave of warmth through her whole body. She went very still as, without taking his eyes from hers, he gently eased the neckline of the blouse up to a higher level. When he was finished. Gray glanced down at the results of his handiwork.
    "Much better," he said blandly.
    "I think, Cormick Grayson, that deep down inside, you may be a little straitlaced. Old-fashioned perhaps. Possibly even prudish." Her skin still burned from the light touch of his fingers. It was all Amber could do to make her comment sound teasing.
    "The word you're looking for is possessive, Mrs. Grayson. Keep it in mind. Are you ready to go?"
    His response was sardonic and tinged with humor, but there was something in his eyes that was totally serious. Amber wasn't sure how to interpret the expression. She inched the strap of her straw bag higher on her bare shoulder. "I'm ready. Let's go eat tacos until we can't see straight."
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