Free The Texas Millionaire's Runaway Wife by Mary Malcolm Page A

headed toward the kitchen. It seemed a shame to waste that much food, and Cassie knew just what to do with it.

Chapter Six
    The drive to the office seemed longer than normal. A lot longer. Every bit of his reflexes wanted to turn the car around and get a better kiss from his wife.
    Still, her confused look at the front door had made his own torture almost worth it.
    Almost.
    He’d think about her all day. Which would make the nine hours he’d planned to stay seem much too long. Maybe he could take off early?
    No, he’d never been that irresponsible. Well, once. Their Vegas trip. But after that, never. God, Cassie still made him feel like a love-struck little boy. She walked in that morning with that curly auburn hair flowing around her shoulders. He’d seen the glow of her green eyes as she stood uncertain in the doorway, and it took all his willpower not to look up from his paper and draw her in. She’d worn a long-sleeved white shirt tucked into her tight blue jeans.
    He’d never wanted to call in sick so much before in his life.
    Their kiss at the door was part of his new plan.
    Revenge could take many forms. Cassie, whether she knew it or not, was a passionate, sensual woman. He’d been reminded of that yesterday in his office. And again later, in his room—of the way she couldn’t control herself when their lips melded. The soft curve of her bottom beneath his hands, the way her hips cradled against his as if they belonged there.
    Her sounds, whether she’d noticed them or not, were those of a woman who enjoyed being kissed. And her lips, soft, full, moist against his, needed to be kissed.
    With all that in mind, the idea of not having sex with Cassie tightened his groin even more. But, revenge, as he knew, came in many forms.
    A woman like Cassie was made to be kissed. Made to be loved. They would have sex, Stephen had promised her that much, but he would make her beg.
    And that’s when he would end it.
    Not that it was about the sex, that was certain. It was about making her want him. And he would be the one walking away this time.
    He pulled into his parking spot in front of the building and turned off the ignition.
    He’d loved Cassie once upon a time. He’d wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, wanted to watch them grow old together. And she’d run away.
    Now, he’d make her love him. Make her want him in the deepest possible way, then show her how much love could hurt.
    Pocketing his keys, and stepping out of the car with a deeper sense of purpose. Simple revenge was not enough for a woman like Cassie. He had to make her pay.
    Inside the building, he took the stairs up to his fourth floor office. Gayle, among others, believed he took the stairs for fitness. Truth was, Stephen hated elevators. He’d stop short of saying they terrified him, but only because Sands men didn’t feel terrified.
    Once in his early twenties he’d gotten stuck in an elevator for five hours. It jolted to a stop between the twenty-fourth and twenty-fifth floor of his father’s downtown office. The emergency button sent clanging alarms through the elevator car, but Stephen had a sneaking suspicion the alarms could only be heard by him. After speaking into the red emergency phone, he’d waited. A little less than an hour in the fire department arrived and assured him things would be okay.
    Then the car slipped.
    Stephen didn’t know how far it plummeted before wrenching to a stop again, but it’d been far enough to instill a deep dislike, which stayed with him over the years.
    The only time he’d ridden in an elevator and not broken into a deep sweat since then had been in Vegas. With Cassie.
    Of course, they’d made out like teenagers in the elevator that time, but he’d not ridden in one except out of necessity ever since.
    At his desk, Stephen looked over the day’s schedule. Light, comparatively. And hopefully no surprises like yesterday.
    He’d have to schedule in a time to meet with the land developer