Free Runaway by Heather Graham Page A

mean?” The brick at her back seemed very cold.
    “I’m marrying you because I want a wife,” he said bluntly.
    “So you’ve said!”
    He shifted impatiently, his eyes still impaling hers. “I’d never force a whore,” he continued, even more bluntly, “but I don’t want a wife I’d need to force.”
    She tried to keep her eyes level with his. She really tried. They fell anyway.
    “I know what wives—do,” she said at last.
    He lifted her chin. Damn, but his eyes could be like coals that burned, the devil’s own!
    “I said I know!” she whispered heatedly. “What more do you expect?” she cried.
    “Good question. Maybe it’s not so much a matter of what I expect, as it is of what I’d like!”
    “Meaning?”
    “Well, I’m afraid that I’m not just a nice individual—”
    “I don’t remember accusing you of such a thing!” Tara said, blurting out the words because she was so nervous.
    But he still smiled. “I saw you the moment you walked into the room. And I wanted you the moment you walked into the room.”
    A wealth of color flooded to her cheeks again. Her lashes fell.
    “My cards are all on the table,” he said politely.
    Was he still waiting for an explanation? Well he could wait from now until eternity! He wasn’t getting one. “Fine,” she said softly. “You want a wife. You’ll get one.” She looked up at him and found those eyes impaling her once again. “A good one!” she cried. “I can do many things. I know how to manage a household—”
    “I don’t give a damn if you know how to manage a household or not,” he drawled, smiling with a certain amount of amusement. “I accepted you as payment on a gambling table because you’re incredibly beautiful. And I want you for the same reason. Still willing?”
    “I’m willing.”
    “Just don’t go back on any of your promises,” he warned her.
    “If I do?” she inquired, lifting her chin high again.
    He really smiled then, brushing her cheek lightly with his knuckle. “I will be forced to see that you keep them!” he assured her.
    She pushed his hand away and strode past him. She had to do this thing now and be done with it!
    There would be more men to follow the two on the ground.
    She swirled around, allowing her gaze to rise up and down his person, from his ebony dark hair to his high black boots.
    “You’ll do,” she said coolly. “Can we get on with this?”
    He started to laugh and strode the distance to her, setting an arm around her waist. She nearly leapt away at the searing touch.
    “I’ll do! What flattery! I won’t do particularly well, but I’m better than the man you’re running away from, is that it?”
    “I never promised explanations!” she retorted. “Only to be—a good wife.”
    “And that you will be, my love. That you will be.” He paused under a lamp for just a moment, searching out her eyes once again, his own a startling coal fire. She shivered fiercely, afraid to be in his arms.…
    And yet suddenly longing to be there. It would be tempest, it would be flame! she warned herself. And her knees seemed to have turned to water. God, yes! Whatever else, he had already protected her twice. It was a new beginning!
    “That I will be!” she repeated. She was marrying a total stranger. She swallowed hard. Yes, just let him get her away from here tonight. She would pay any price.
    “Then let’s get on with it, shall we?” he said.
    “How? We can’t just be married tonight—”
    “Oh, my sweet innocent! We can do anything in New Orleans tonight. Anything we pay for! Just follow me, my love. Just follow me.”
    Through it all, she realized, she had never really believed that he was serious.
    But he was.
    An inquiry to a friend on a tawdry street—the friend was a bit tawdry looking too!—sent them to a nearby house. To her dismay Tara found herself wondering about McKenzie’s relationship with the buxom blonde who had sent them on their way.
    Whores. They were a dime a dozen. He