Free The Millionaire Claims His Wife by Sandra Marton Page B

but—”
    â€œMaybe?” Her voice shot up the scale, her eyebrows to her hairline. “Maybe you made a mistake?”
    â€œThe words just came out. I didn’t mean—”
    â€œCan’t you even admit you were wrong?”
    â€œI already did. I said maybe I made a mistake.”
    Annie snorted. “You still don’t see it, do you! A ‘mistake’ is when a person forgets an appointment. Or dials a wrong number.”
    â€œOr says something, in the heat of the moment, that he thinks might—”
    â€œYou lied, Chase. There’s a big difference. But I’m not surprised.”
    Chase rose to his feet. “And what, exactly, is that supposed to mean?”
    â€œNothing,” Annie said coldly, and turned away.
    â€œDammit!” He grabbed her shoulder and swung her around to face him. “If there’s one thing I never could stand, it was that word. ‘Nothing,’ you always say, but even an idiot can tell you really mean ‘something.”
    Annie smiled sweetly. “I’m happy to hear it.”
    Dark color swept into his face. He clutched her tighter and leaned toward her.
    â€œYou’re pushing your luck, babe.”
    â€œWhy?” Her chin lifted. “What are you going to do, huh? Slug me?”
    Annie saw Chase’s eyes narrow. What had made her say such a thing? They had quarreled, yes. Fought furiously with words. By the time they’d agreed to divorce, they’d hurled every possible bit of invective at each other.
    But he’d never hit her. He’d never raised his hand to her. She’d never been afraid of him physically and she wasn’t now.
    It was just that she was so angry. So enraged. He was, too. And just a little while ago, when he’d been mad and she’d been mad, he’d ended up hauling her into his arms and kissing her until her toes had tingled.
    For Pete’s sake, woman, are you insane? Are you trying to tick him off so he’ll kiss you again?
    She stiffened, then twisted out of his grasp.
    â€œThis isn’t getting us anywhere,” she said. She walked to the sofa and sat down. “I just wish I knew what to do next.”
    â€œWhy should we have to ‘do’ anything?” Chase said, sitting down in the chair.
    â€œDawn’s going to have such expectations...”
    Chase sighed and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. He put his head in his hands.
    â€œyear.”
    â€œHow could you? How could you tell her that?”
    â€œI don’t know.” He straightened up and passed his hand over his face. “Exhaustion, maybe. I haven’t slept in—what year is this, anyway?”
    â€œTo tell her such nonsense—”
    â€œYeah, yeah,” he said, “okay, you made your point” He frowned and shifted his backside on the cushion of the contraption Annie called a chair, where he’d spent the last hour being tortured. “What’s this damn chair stuffed with, anyway? Steel filings?”
    â€œHorsehair, which should be just right, considering that you are, without question, the biggest horse’s patootie I ever did know!”
    Chase gave a bark of incredulous laughter. “Patootie? Goodness gracious, land’s sakes alive, Miss Annie, what out and out vulgarity!”
    â€œDammit, Chase—”
    â€œOh my. Better watch yourself, babe. Your language is slipping.”
    â€œDon’t ‘babe’ me. I don’t like it. Just tell me what we’re supposed to do now.”
    Chase winced as he got to his feet He rubbed the small of his back, then massaged his neck, and walked slowly to the window.
    The sun was a slash of lemon yellow as it rose in the deep woods behind the house. Dawn was almost here—and his Dawn was almost there, in Hawaii, beginning her honeymoon with Nick. He smiled and thought of sharing the play-on-words with Annie, but he suspected she might not see the humor in the