Read The Millionaire Claims His Wife Online
Authors: Sandra Marton
The Millionaire Claims His Wife (10 page)
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He made it sound like an invitation to paradise.
“Do you want me to go?” she'd asked, and just for a minute, she'd looked into his eyes and prayed for him to say that all he really wanted was for them to love each other as they once had.
Instead he'd gotten a closed-up look on his face and said that she was his wife. Of course, he wanted her to go.
What he'd meant was that it was expected of her. Accompanying him to the party was part of her job description, like cooking the meals he never came home to share or warming his bed when he reached for her.
So she'd gone out and bought herself the right clothes, had her hair done the right way, and gone with him to the damned Chamber of Commerce party. Whatever. She couldn't really remember anymore. Not that it mattered. The dozen or more functions she'd attended on Chase's arm were all equally dull and dreary, and he didn't even stay with her during the evening. It was always the same. He'd introduce her, then go off on his own. Networking, not even making the slightest pretense that he enjoyed her company because the truth was, he didn't.
That was when she'd decided she was tired of playing the demure, domesticated backup to Chase's Captain of Industry. He had his degrees and his construction company; she could have something of her own, too.
An education. In things that would never interest him. He'd made that accusation, once, when he'd come home from a trip and she'd paused only long enough to acknowledge his presence before hurrying out the door to a lecture on haiku.
“Dammit,” he'd roared, “is that how you pick courses from the catalog, Annie? Do you look the list over and say, hey, that's a good one! Maybe my big dumb husband won't even know what the name of the course means.”
“However did you know?” she'd said with a chilly smile, and then she'd flounced out the door, but quickly, so that she wouldn't cry in front of him or say, Chase, please, what's happened to us? I love you. Tell me that you still love me.
It wasn't true, of course, about the courses. She took the ones that sounded interesting: haiku because the description in the catalog sounded so spare and elegant. The one on Jasper Johns because one of Chase's clients had mentioned having a Johns collection, and the one on batik-making because she'd seen a dress in the window of a shop and been fascinated by the swirling colors.
She took the flower-arranging courses simply because there'd been a time in their lives when they were broke and desperately in love, and Chase had bought her a single red rose, because it was all he could afford, and she'd cherished it more than the huge bouquets that came, impersonally, by messenger once he'd struck it rich.
Oh, how much more wonderful that single rose had been!
He'd come home with it in his hand, years and years ago, along with wine and two tickets to the Virgin Islands, and when he'd offered her the rose he'd smiled shyly and said it was almost as beautiful as she was.
She could still remember how she'd gone into his arms.
“I'm sweaty, babe,” he'd said huskily. “I need a shower.”
And she'd said yes, he did, and she'd started to undress him, and a minute later they'd been naked, in the shower together.
Her skin tingled now, just remembering what it had been like, the long, slow soaping of each other's bodies, the kissing and touching, the way they'd ended up making love right there, under the spray, Chase's arms hard around her, her legs tight around his waist, him saying her name against her mouth, over and over, and she crying out as they came together in explosive release.
Tears stung behind her lids. It was stupid, thinking about things like that. Especially about sex, because that brought her straight to what had finally ended their marriage.
She'd been taking a class in dried flower making and design. She'd done some nice work, she knew that, but one night the instructor had asked her to wait after she dismissed the class. Then she'd asked Annie's permission to enter one of her flower arrangements in a juried show.
Annie had said yes. And she'd been so happy and excited that she'd forgotten how long it had been since she and Chase had shared good news. She'd jumped into her car, driven to Chase's office building, found the front door unlocked and sailed down the hall, straight into his office...
Annie shuddered.
She could still see them now, her husband and his secretary, the girl with her arms around Chase's neck and his around her waist, their bodies pressed together...
That was it. The marriage was over.
Chase had tried to explain, to worm out of the truth, but Annie wasn't stupid. She'd endured enough pain, watching the man she loved slip slowly but steadily away from her all those years.
And “loved” was the right word. That night, as Chase and his secretary sprang guiltily apart, Annie knew that whatever she'd once felt for her husband was gone. Deader than a daffodil that's been squashed by a truck.
“Annie,” Chase had said, “Annie, you have to listen.”
“Yes, Mrs. Cooper,” the young woman had pleaded, “you must listen!”
Listen? Why? There was nothing to talk about.
She'd felt suddenly very calm. The decision was out of her hands, thanks to Chase and the weeping girl.
“I want a divorce,” she'd told him, and she'd even managed a cold smile for the secretary. “He's all yours,” she'd said, and then she'd turned on her heel and marched out
Things had gone quickly, after that. Her sister, Laurel, had recommended an attorney, although Laurel had done her best to convince Annie not to act so hastily. But there was nothing hasty in Annie's decision. She and Chase had been heading for this moment for years.
The divorce had been civilized. Chase's attorney was an old friend, David Chambers, who kissed her cheek and treated her with courtesy during their one face-to-face over a conference table. Chase wanted her to have the condominium. Half their savings. Half of everything. Child support, and generous alimony.
Annie said she didn't want the money. Her lawyer, and his, told her not to be stupid. She had a child to support. They were right, she knew, so she accepted everything except the alimony. As for the condoâit was filled with ugly memories. She sold it as soon as she could, moved to Stratham and began a new life. A career. She'd cut herself off from the past, and damned successfully. She'd made friends. She'd dated. And now she had Milton Hoffman, who wanted to marry her.
And then Chase had come along, spoiling everything with a stupid lie.
Annie chomped down on her lip.
Who was she kidding? Her life had started slipping off the tracks hours before Chase had told that dumb lie and the truth was, she understood that he'd done it not out of stupidity but out of love for their daughter.
The lie hadn't put her on this collision course with disaster.
The dance had. That silly dance at the wedding.
Annie tried not to remember. The warmth of Chase's arms encircling her. The beat of his heart against hers. The feel of his lips against her hair, against her skin. The feeling that she bad come home, that she was where she'd always belonged.
Oh God
.
.
She took a long, shuddering breath.
Stop it, she told herself fiercely, and she put her head back, shut her eyes and willed herself to sleep.
* * *
A change of pitch in the jet's engines woke Chase hours later.
He yawned, tried to remember where he wasâand went completely still.
Annie was asleep, with her head on his shoulder. She was tucked close against him, her face against his neck, just the way she used to back in the long-ago days when they'd cuddle up together on the sofa to watch Sunday football.
“You watch,” she'd say, “I don't mind. I'll read.”
But after a little while, she'd sigh. The book would slip from her hands. She'd put her head on his shoulder and sigh again, and he'd sit there with her asleep beside him, unwilling to move or to give up these sweet moments even if every muscle in his body ached.
A feeling of almost unbearable tenderness swept over him. She was dreaming, too. Looking down, into her face, he could see the little smile on her lips.
Was she dreaming about him?
“Annie?”
Annie sighed. “Mmm,” she said.
“Babe, it's time to wake up.”
She smiled and cuddled closer. “Mmm,” she whispered, “Milton?”
Milton?
Milton Hoffman? That was the man in his wife's dream? That was why she was smiling and cuddling up so close to him?
Chase felt his heart turn to ice.
Hoffman. That poor excuse for a man. That effete jerk. That was who Annie wanted. That was the kind of man she'd always wanted.
Why hadn't he seen it before?
Milton Hoffman, Professor of English, Shakespearean Authority and All-round Chrome Dome, never had mud on his wing tips. He never had to leave the house before dawn and come home, dragging his tail, long after dark. He never had to wonder if anybody noticed the shadow of dirt under his fingernails because ol' Milton had never had dirt under his fingernails, not in this lifetime.
Chase sat up straight. Annie's head bobbed; she made a little purring sound and nuzzled closer.
“Annie,” he said coldly. “Wake up.”
“Mom.”
Annie sighed. She was at that point where you know you're dreaming, but you're not quite ready to give up the dream. Not this dream. She was too interested in seeing how it would end.
She had been sitting in a classroom, with Milton on his knees beside her. He'd just proposed, and she was earnestly explaining why she had to turn him down.
I like you very much, Milton,
she said,
and I respect you and admire you.
she said,
and I respect you and admire you.
But he wasn't Chase. His kisses had never stirred her the way Chase's did. His touch didn't set her on fire.
“Annie? Wake up.”
“Milton,” she said, and then she opened her eyes and saw Chase glaring at her from two inches away.
Annie jerked back, her face coloring. How long had she been asleep? How long had she been lying snuggled up against Chase as if she were a teenager in a drive-in theaterâif there still were such places?
No wonder Chase was looking at her that way. God, she'd probably drooled all over him.
“Sorry.” She put her hands to her hair and smoothed it back from her face. “I, ah, I guess I dozed off.”
“And dreamed of Prince Charming,” Chase said, with a tight little smile.
“Prince...?”
“Good old Milty. Your fiancé.”
Annie stared at Chase and remembered her dream. “Did Iâdid I say anything?”
“What's the matter, Annie? Afraid I might have heard the dialogue that went with an X-rated dream?”
“It wasn't X-rated! I was just dreaming thatâthat...”
“Don't waste your breath.” Chase's voice was chill. “I'm not interested.”
Annie stiffened. “Sorry. I almost forgot. Nothing I ever had to say was of much interest to you, was it?”
“Mr. Cooper? Mrs. Cooper?” The flight attendant smiled down at them both. “We'll be landing in just a few minutes. Would you put your seat-backs up, please?”
“With pleasure,” Chase said.
“I'm buying a return ticket the instant we touch down,” Annie snapped, without looking at him.
“You won't have to. Believe me, it'll be my pleasure to buy you the ticket and to see you to the plane.”
* * *
It was a fine idea. Unfortunately it didn't work.
The next plane to Boston was completely booked.
“Providence, then,” Chase said. “Bradley...”
One by one, he rattled off the names of airports. One by one, the clerk at the ticket counter shook her head.
“We've had lengthy delays all morning,” she said. “Fog here, thunderstorms in the Midwest...” She smiled apologetically. “I might be able to get your wifeâ”
“Ex-wife,” Annie said.
“Whatever. I might be able to get her out of here tomorrow afternoon.”
“Yeah,” Chase grumbled, “okay.”
“Not okay! ”Annie glared at him, as if it was his fault she was in this predicament. “What am I supposed to do until tomorrow afternoon? Sit around the airport?”
“I'll get you a hotel room.”
“Good luck.”
Annie and Chase looked at the ticket clerk, whose shoulders rose and fell in a helpless shrug.
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