The Ruthless Caleb Wilde

“Caleb,” Sage said in a warning tone.

“That’s my name,” he said cheerfully.

“Caleb,” she said, as he hustled her through the rain and into the store, “what are we doing here?”

“You can’t spend a whole week in one pair of jeans and that blue dress. Of course,” he added, in his best I-am-a-lecher tones, “you could spend it naked in bed with me, but the chambermaid has to get in to clean once in a while.”

A woman hurrying past them laughed.

Sage swatted him on the arm.

“Keep your voice down,” she hissed. “And didn’t I tell you that same thing? We have to go to my place so I can get—”

Caleb took her hand and hurried her past silk scarves and handbags and counters of makeup.

“No dilly-dallying,” he said briskly. “Not when there’s a bunch of people waiting to meet you.”

Sage came to a dead stop. “What people?” Understanding rose in her eyes. “If you think I’m going to let you buy—”

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

“Caleb, for heaven’s sake, not here, in the middle of—”

“Right here. Right now. I’ll keep kissing you until you finally say yes, a man can buy a few things for his wife.”

“I’m not your wife—”

“Not yet,” he said, and kissed her again.

“You’re impossible!”

“I’m also very, very determined. What’s it going to be? A kissing marathon, or a shopping trip?”

A kissing marathon, she wanted to say. And when he flashed that wicked, sexy grin she loved, she grinned back at him.

“Okay. You win. But only a few things. Necessities.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Caleb said, lying through his teeth as he led her to the elevators.

It was clear the sales staff had been expecting him. Or a man like him, one who knew precisely what he wanted.

Dresses were, he said, necessities. So were jeans and trousers, skirts and tops, lingerie, shoes and sandals and anything and everything in between.

“Caleb, no,” Sage whispered, “it’s too much.”

“It’s not half enough,” he answered, loving the pleasure he saw in her eyes as she looked in the mirror, wearing silk and linen and all the things she’d never had before.

Once he’d arranged for all the bags and boxes to be sent to the hotel, they went back down to the first floor.

“Pick out a couple of handbags,” he said.

Sage stared at the bewildering assortment.

“There are so many …”

Indeed, and he’d counted on that.

Once she was busy comparing what looked like bowling bags to what had to be sacks, he took the salesclerk aside.