Halloween Honeymoon Read online

  And on!

  When Josh finally straightened, she was breathless and dizzy and tingling from her head to her toes. What little air she managed to pull into her lungs whooshed out again as he swept her into his arms and carried her out of the ballroom.

  Two

  As he traversed the ballroom, Josh discovered that maneuvering a woman wearing a skirt the size of a beach umbrella through a crowd of well-wishers and backslappers was no mean feat. He also discovered that his bride wasn’t quite the lightweight she appeared. She linked her arms around his neck for balance, but a nicely rounded bottom bumped against his middle with each step, and her compact body was proving to be an armful. By the time he cleared the ballroom, his breath was rasping in his throat…and not just from the feel of her warm breath on his neck.

  Damn! He really was out of shape. The realization threw him, then sharpened to hard resolve his decision of a few moments ago to start swinging a club again. It was time he put his life back in order, he thought grimly. Hefting his bride a little higher, he ignored the small lance of pain just over his left eye that the action caused and strode across the lobby.

  “Where are we going, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  Josh glanced down at the woman in his arms, seeing her in the bright lights of the lobby for the first time. An unexpected pleasure jolted through him. Lord, what skin! All creamy and soft-looking and flushed with pink. Briefly he wondered whether her heightened color was the result of being carried through a busy hotel lobby to the accompaniment of surprised stares and titters of amusement…or the aftermath of their kiss.

  Josh still wasn’t quite sure what had happened with that kiss. He’d intended it as a joke, one of the grandstand plays for the crowd that he was famous for, but the joke had boomeranged. Big-time! At the touch of her full mouth on his, sudden, scorching heat had raced through his veins. Even now, the memory of her lips moving under his knotted him so tight it took a real effort to reply to her question.

  “I thought we’d better blow the wedding party before Harry started selling ringside seats to our divorce. How about a glass of champagne to toast our newly wedded state?”

  “Well…” She glanced doubtfully at the entrance to the cocktail lounge.

  “I’m staying here at the hotel. We can go up to my room and order from room service.” A belated thought occurred to him. “Or did you come with someone? Someone who might object to your sudden disappearance?”

  “Isn’t it a bit late to worry about that?” she replied, lifting one brow.

  “Better late than never,” Josh countered easily, but his step slowed as he remembered how she’d evaded answering his question earlier about her marital status.

  An instinctive caution kicked in, and he halted in front of the elevator. For all his playboy reputation, Josh played this particular game by his own, very private set of rules. Although he’d enjoyed one or two steady relationships in the past few years, his fierce concentration on his sport precluded the kind of wild affairs the media loved to spin into near misses at the altar. Well, it precluded most of them. In any case, he’d learned early in his rookie days to avoid destructive triangles with married women.

  “Well? Is there someone who might object to our sharing a glass of champagne?”

  “No, there isn’t.”

  He had to strain to hear her reply over the buzz of conversation in the lobby. Then her chin tilted upward, and she added, “And yes, I’d like a glass of champagne.”

  Josh caught the faint hint of defiance in her voice. And the echo of recklessness. He’d heard both before. Too many times not to recognize them instantly. Cari O’Donnell might or might not be married, but she wouldn’t object to some fun with a stranger…like most of the groupies who followed the tour.

  The sharp sense of disappointment that swept through him took Josh aback. What the heck was the matter with him? So what if she wanted to play games with him for some private purpose of her own? Not ten minutes ago he’d been hoping he’d get lucky and share a mock wedding night, as well as a wedding, with this delectable creature.

  That had been before he caught the sparkle of laughter in her wide brown eyes, a perverse corner of his mind argued. Before he kissed her. She’d tasted so fresh, so surprised. So unlike the women who made themselves available at every tournament.

  Telling himself he was an idiot for regretting his impulsive offer, Josh hefted her again and stabbed the elevator button with one finger. Her body rolled into his, and Josh felt the swell of her upper breasts against his chest. The feel of those plump, mashed mounds went a long way to easing both his momentary doubts and the familiar pain now pulsing just above his eye.

  She righted herself, flushed and laughing. “I appreciate that you swashbuckling types have a reputation to maintain, but I can walk, you know.”

  The elevator doors whirred open, and a wide-eyed couple stepped out. Josh gave them a quick grin, then carried his prize into the paneled cubicle. As the elevator hummed upward, he leaned his shoulders against the smooth-grained wood and rested her weight on his stomach.

  “No sweat,” he replied. “If I put you down now, I’d just have to pick you up to carry you over the threshold, and I’m not sure I could manage it again with that satellite dish you’re wearing. Besides—” he glanced up at the indicator panel “—we’re here.”

  Cari curled her arm around his neck as he twisted sideways to maneuver her farthingale out of the elevator. Once more she felt the heat and the strength of his body as he strode down a long hallway carpeted in plush mauve and lit by elegant crystal chandeliers. She had to resist the urge to pinch herself. She couldn’t quite believe that she was in Josh Keegan’s arms. Or that he was carrying her to his hotel room.

  She just didn’t do things like this.

  Not with men like Josh, anyway.

  Okay, she could be a bit impulsive at times. Like when she’d sailed out of Edward’s office, ignoring little things like car payments and rent and food in her anger and indignation. Or when she’d moved to Georgia in the first place, drawn by the irresistible lure of working with a man considered a leader in her chosen field.

  Some leader! Edward had used her and her research shamelessly—kind of like she was using Josh, her conscience snuck in.

  Hey, all she wanted was a little conversation with an attractive man. A glass of champagne. A taste of excitement. And maybe another of those soul-shattering kisses, Cari tacked on, her heart thumping.

  She wasn’t about to indulge in anything more. Not after her recent escape. And certainly not with someone like Josh Keegan, who collected women the way other people collected matchbooks.

  The truth! her pesky conscience demanded. Admit it! What she really wanted was the thrill of being swept off her feet for a few moments by a world-class hunk, to counter the sting of Edward’s snide comments.

  Maybe so. But that wasn’t using him. Much. No more than he used the dozens—hundreds!—of women he’d been linked with.

  At the thought of being linked, even temporarily, to the man who held her, Cari’s blood raced shamelessly. The fingers she’d locked behind his strong, corded neck itched with the urge to thread themselves through his dark hair. The hallway lights brought out the deep red tints hidden amid its casual layers.

  “Can you reach my pocket?”

  “What?” She dragged her gaze from his hair, to find his hazel eye regarding her with a rueful glint.

  “We’ve made it this far. I hate to spoil my act now by setting you down while I fish for the key. It’s in my left pocket. Can you reach it?”

  “Uh…sure.”

  Cari loosened her hold and slid her hand down his shoulder to his hip. He shifted slightly so that she could insert her hand in his pants pocket. With very careful precision, she fished among the scattered objects she encountered for the flat piece of plastic that would open the safety lock. Tiny pinpoints of heat danced under her skin at the feel of his hard thigh. She hoped fervently that her fingers di
dn’t lock on the wrong object.

  Come on! she chided herself silently. Be bold. Be a little bawdy. Be Elizabethan. Even with that admonishment, she felt a rush of relief when she located the plastic key. Pulling it out, she fumbled it into the lock.

  With the crooked grin that Cari was coming to recognize as Josh Keegan’s signature, he shouldered the door open and swept her into the most luxurious suite she’d ever seen. Her eyes rounded as she took in the priceless antiques scattered around a room the size of a football field, the huge bouquets of fresh flowers on every level surface and the wall of windows framing a panoramic view of Atlanta by night.

  He set her on her feet. Finally.

  Cari spun in a slow circle, as much to catch her breath as to view the gorgeous furnishings. While the woman in her struggled to regain her composure, the historian lost it again at the sight of a beautifully carved Chippendale side chair.

  “The pirate trade much be pretty brisk these days,” she murmured, eyeing the exquisite piece.

  “We do all right,” he answered with a careless shrug. Crossing to a Federal-style slant-front desk in dark cherry, he reached for the phone.

  More than all right, if he could afford to stay in suites like this one, Cari thought. Golf was obviously a lucrative profession. Golf the way Josh played it, at any rate.

  Or had played it.

  Cari studied her make-believe groom as he placed an order with room service for champagne and smoked salmon. Did the patch that gave him such a rakish air affect his game? she wondered. Would he continue to play championship golf? She’d heard of athletes overcoming much harsher disabilities than the loss of sight in one eye. She’d seen for herself the incredible achievements of kids with physical limitations during last year’s Special Olympics. Was Josh Keegan going back on the pro tour?

  An intense curiosity about this tall, broad-shouldered man consumed her, but Cari bit back her questions. Despite the fact that she’d just married him, sort of, she wasn’t about to pry into his personal life or ask intimate questions about his physical state.

  Josh, it appeared, had no such inhibitions. Folding his arms across his chest, he leaned his hips against the desk and looked her up and down.

  “How do you breathe in that thing?” he asked, nodding at her tight bodice.

  Her mouth curved. “Very carefully.”

  “I can’t believe women actually strapped themselves into such uncomfortable contraptions.” He hooked a brow. “Or did that flat board serve some nefarious purpose, like Queen Juana’s balloon skirts?”

  “Nothing more nefarious than to exaggerate a woman’s charms a bit,” Cari admitted, hoping he didn’t realize quite how much it exaggerated hers.

  “Vanity, thy name is woman,” he intoned with a teasing grin.

  Cari brushed a hand down her elaborately embroidered bodice. “It is silly, isn’t it? Almost as silly as the tight nooses men loop around their necks these days,” she added casually. “With lining and stiffening and interfacing, you guys wear fifteen layers of material around your neck every time you put on a tie.”

  “No kidding? That must be why I never wear the things.” He cocked his head, eyeing her elaborate costume. “You seem to know a lot about fashions. Are you in the garment business?”

  “In a manner of speaking. I’m a historian, actually. I teach…” She caught herself with a small shake of her head. “I used to teach at Billings College. Now I’m working full-time on my doctoral dissertation.”

  Cari shoved aside the daunting thought that she wouldn’t be working on it for long if the grant she’d applied for didn’t come through. She had only six months to finish her thesis. Given the circumstances under which she’d left Billings, there was no way she could expect an extension. With the Atlanta History Center grant, she’d be able to work night and day and get the finished product in on time. Without it, five years of research might go down the tubes.

  She had to eat, after all.

  “My thesis deals with the effect of sociological change on modes of dress,” she told Josh. “So I guess you could say I’m in the garment business.”

  “Sounds fascinating,” he replied, a corner of his mouth lifting as he surveyed her wide skirts. “When you think about it, Queen Juana was going through a definite sociological change when she invented her hoop.”

  Cari suspected the lively queen was going to become one of his favorite historical personages. She might have filled him in on more details about the colorful lady, if she hadn’t been so distracted by his crooked smile.

  Darn it, that grin ought to come with a warning sign. Danger, High Voltage. Very High Voltage! Her lips still tingled from the kiss he’d given her downstairs. A kiss she very much hoped he’d offer to repeat.

  As if reading her mind, he pushed himself away from the desk and strolled toward her. Cari’s stomach did a double back flip as he curled a knuckle under her chin and tilted her face to his.

  “Thanks for going along with the gag.”

  She stared up at him, almost overwhelmed by his sheer, blatant masculinity. He towered over her, his wide shoulders blocking the glow from the lamps. The black patch covering one eye focused all her attention on the other, which danced with golden lights.

  A shiver of anticipation darted down her spine, followed immediately by a ripple of nervousness. Common sense told Cari that she was out of her league here. Way out of her league. But a heady recklessness held her still. One more taste, she told herself. One more kiss.

  She wet her lips. “As you pointed out, it was for a good cause.”

  Josh followed the tip of her tongue as it moved over her full, ripe mouth. Without warning, his blood started to pound, and the pulsing ache above his left eye intensified. The pain in his forehead was minor compared to the ache in his lower body, however.

  “A very good cause,” he murmured, holding her chin steady as he lowered his head. “So is this.”

  Josh kept this kiss light, unlike the kiss he’d staged for the crowd downstairs. His mouth brushed hers with soft, easy strokes. Her breath was warm and sweet and soon came in quick little puffs. Her lips moved under his, tentatively at first, then with a delicate hunger that sent a sudden, searing pleasure shafting through him.

  Josh drew back, startled by the intensity of his body’s response. The stunned expression in her wide brown eyes told him she’d been hit by the same unexpected bolt. Her breathless, wide-eyed surprise only added to the urgency pooling in his groin.

  Driven by that urgent need, he wrapped an arm around her waist and brought her hard against him. Her breasts swelled against his ribs, and her mouth opened under his. Fitting her against him, Josh plundered its moist richness.

  As the explosive kiss went on, he wanted more. Much more. His hand roamed her back, then slipped around to her front, seeking a zipper, or buttons, or whatever the heck held the iron corset together. With a small grunt of satisfaction, he found a row of hooks buried under a flounce of lace. He was breathing hard and fast when she pushed away, her hand fluttering to her upper chest.

  “I, uh, don’t think my bodice was designed for this kind of activity. I can’t seem to catch my breath.”

  “There’s an easy solution to that problem.”

  Smiling, he reached for the bottom hook. She backed away, eyes wide. A thick strand of hair the color of creamy peanut butter tumbled down to curl around her neck. It lay silky soft against her flushed skin. Josh’s stomach corkscrewed into a tight knot at the sight of her swollen lips, red and open and puffing hard.

  “This is going a little too fast,” she protested breathlessly. “For me, anyway.”

  The now savage ache over Josh’s left eye compounded his searing disappointment at her withdrawal. She was as hot as he was. Hotter, if the tide of red staining her cheeks and neck was any indication. She’d come up to his room willingly enough. Yet now she obviously wanted to be coaxed. Convinced. Or otherwise talked into his bed.

  The old Keegan might have accommodated
her. The one with the patch over his eye wasn’t sure he had the staying power. Not with the pounding pain in his forehead and the tight, hard ache in his loins.

  “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’ve carried the masquerade this far, but I’m not quite up to playing the ravishing pirate to your outraged captive. Why don’t we just get naked and play bride and groom instead?”

  It wasn’t much of a line, but it was the best Josh could do at the moment. He saw at once that he’d hooked his shot badly and gone out of bounds.

  His bride’s jaw sagged. She stared at him, openmouthed, as a host of emotions chased across her expressive face. Josh identified astonishment, indignation and then anger. The color in her cheeks deepened to a bright, flaming red. She drew herself up to her full height, which put the top of her head just about level with his chin.

  “No, thank you,” she said, the ice in her voice a direct contrast to the red flags in her cheeks. “I think we’ve carried both masquerades far enough.”

  She spun on one heel and tilted crazily, as she had in the ballroom earlier. Josh put out a hand to steady her. She shook it off angrily and marched to the door.

  Raking a hand through his hair, Josh winced as even that slight touch added to the pressure inside his skull.

  “Cari, wait!” The words came out sharper than he intended. As did his apology. “Look, I’m sorry I misread the signals.”

  The stain in her cheeks deepened even more, if that was possible. “Me, too.”

  He took a step toward her, only to halt when she flung back her head and flashed him a warning.

  “Back off, Keegan. My opinion of men in general isn’t all that great these days. And you don’t want to know what I think of overmuscled, oversexed jocks in particular at this moment.”

  The scorn in her voice nettled Josh. He might have handled her with all the finesse of a Sunday-afternoon duffer trying to back his way out of the woods, but she’d been a willing participant in the game up to this point. Still, Josh knew when he’d lost a match.

  “You’re right, I don’t particularly want to know,” he told her, the hint of sarcasm in his voice inviting her to leave.