The Millionaire Claims His Wife

Cozy? Chase almost groaned. “Yeah,” he said, “oh, yeah, cozy’s the word.”

“What time is it, anyway? Is it close to morning? I could make us some coffee.”

“It’s almost twelve.”

“Twelve? How could that be? It’s so dark...” Annie gave an incredulous laugh. “Twelve at night? You’re joking.”

“I wish I were.”

Annie’s head drooped. There was still an entire night, stretching ahead. Hours and hours of lying here, knowing she had only to reach out her hand to touch the man who’d once been her husband.

No. This was impossible. She could never survive until morning...

Of course she could. She wasn’t foolish enough to still think herself in love with Chase. That nonsense had faded away while she’d slept. What she felt was lust, pure and simple. Hey, she could admit it. This was the end of one century and the start of another. Women were allowed to have sexual feelings. They were encouraged to have them, according to the talk shows on TV and the supermarket tabloids.

And she had them. Oh, yes, she did. Chase had always been—probably always would be—the kind of man who could turn her on with a look, but wanting sex with a man didn’t necessarily have anything to do with loving him, despite what she’d told Chase when they’d talked about Dawn and Nick, just yesterday.

The truth was, sex was all a matter of hormones and libido. Love was a separate thing entirely. Everybody said so, even Milton, who’d earnestly assured her that it was okay if she didn’t feel anything for him physically. They could still have a good life together, he’d said.

Maybe he was right.

“Annie?”

She blinked and lifted her head. Her eyes had grown accustomed to the lack of light in the bedroom. She could see Chase clearly now, sitting in the rocker and watching her.

“What are you thinking?”

“Nothing,” she said quickly, “only that—that it’s amazing if Mr. Tanaka ever manages to get any sleep in this bed. The mattress feels as if it’s stuffed with steel.”

Chase laughed. “Welcome to the Chamber of Horrors. Did President Kennedy really sit in one of these godawful chairs to ease the pain in his back?”

“I don’t think he tried to substitute a rocker for a bed,” Annie said, smiling.

“Well, that’s why he got to be president. The guy was smart.”

Annie laughed. It was such a light, easy sound that it made Chase smile. There was a time they’d laughed a lot together. Not over anything special. Just something one would see or hear and say to the other, or something that would happen when they were together.

It felt good, making her laugh again. Everything about today had felt good, even the moments they’d been going at each other. An argument with Annie was better than an evening of smiles from any other woman, especially if the argument ended, as it so often had, in the old days, with her in his arms...in his arms, and wanting him as much as he wanted her.

What would she do, if he went to her now? If he shucked off his clothes, pulled back the blankets and got into the bed with her? He knew just how she would smell, like a blend of perfume and honey and cream. And how she would feel, the heat of her breasts and belly, the coolness of her hands and feet.

He smiled, remembering. Lord, she had the iciest hands and feet in the world!

It was a game they’d often played, on chilly nights like this. They’d get into bed, he’d take her in his arms and she’d wrap one leg around his, dance her toes over his calf while she slid her hand down his chest and he’d say, very sternly, Annie, you stop that right now, and she’d ask why and he’d say because she was positively frigid.

“Frigid?” she’d say, indignantly.

“Frigid,” he’d insist, and then he’d roll her onto her back and whisper, “but I know a way to fix that...”

Chase shot to his feet.

“Here,” he said gruffly, dumping the blanket he’d been using on Annie’s bed. “Take this. It’s gotten a little chilly in here.”

“I’m fine. Anyway, I can’t take your blanket.”

“Sure you can.”

“But what’ll you use?”

A snowbank, if he could find one. What he needed was not to warm up but to chill down.

“I’m, ah, I’m not tired.”

“Not tired? Chase, that’s impossible. We’ve had an awful day. An endless day—”

“You’ve got that right.”

“And you’ve only had, what, two hours sleep? That’s not enough.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I’m overwound. Or maybe it’s just that I’m not in the mood to turn into a human pretzel.”