She turned and faced him. “You shouldn’t be flirting in front of me. At least not until after our divorce is final. You should have more respect for me and our marriage, no matter how short-lived it may be. Is that too much to ask?”
“Respect for a marriage you claimed was a mistake,” he replied. “One you can’t get out of fast enough—is that the marriage we’re talking about? The one you want me to respect?” Robert said through his teeth with his fist clenched at his side as he fought for control. Why couldn’t she see what they had—could still have—was special? Why did it have to end up like a cliché?
They stared at each other in silence. Robert had never wanted a woman as much as he wanted Farrah. Not even the betrayal by his college sweetheart that had made him swear off serious relationships could compare to what he felt for Farrah. He adored everything about her. From the way she challenged and pushed him to her fierce and protective love for her family. Standing this close, he could smell the scent of her favorite vanilla shampoo and it, along with the sexy dress that draped her body like a second skin, sent his body on high alert.
Farrah lowered her head and shook it slowly. “We had a little too much to drink in Vegas.” She lifted her head to meet his gaze. “We got married on a dare. At some cheesy little spot called the Tunnel of Love Chapel,” she said in a voice barely above a whisper. “Who does that?”
Robert clamped down on his factual answer that it happened more times than people liked to give credit.
“You bet it was a mistake,” she continued. “Hell, we both agreed it was a mistake.”
Robert sighed and nodded. He had agreed that marrying the way they had—at a drive-through window—was a mistake, but he was convinced that the marriage itself wasn’t one at all. An awareness he’d come to after realizing his friendly feelings for Farrah had developed into something deeper and irrevocable. The thought that she could be showing some serious interest in Tremaine Steel made his need to convince Farrah that they belonged together much more urgent.
“That reminds me. Have you heard from Fletcher?” she asked. “He has filed the papers, right?”
Fletcher Scott was the private detective turned lawyer they often used when they didn’t want their agency directly involved in certain cases, mostly for “personal” activities. A secret marriage and quickie divorce didn’t get any more personal. Farrah was very thankful that Fletcher could keep a secret, even from her sisters.
“Yes, the papers have definitely been filed,” Robert assured, while thinking, Sort of...
“Good!” she said on a relieved sigh. “We’ve put this off long enough.”
Robert and Farrah walked back to the reception desk as soon as they heard Meeks’s voice. “I’m Meeks Montgomery and I’m—”
“Yes, your wife’s been asking for you,” Karen said, smiling as she flipped her hair again.
Both Robert and Meeks wore the Blake & Montgomery standard uniform of a black T-shirt with their company’s red logo that was hard to miss. Robert was accustomed to female attention when wearing it, especially since the uniform showed off his broad shoulders and flat chest and abs. Also, the combat boots and a utility belt holding a nine-millimeter handgun that screamed dangerous were hard to miss. And even his ninety-year-old neighbor had a liking for the black cargo pants that showcased a rear end she tried sneaking a squeeze of on occasion. Robert didn’t have the heart to tell the old woman that he was onto her game. The devilish smile that plastered her wrinkled face was too endearing.
Evidently, the geriatric club wasn’t the only group that wasn’t immune. Karen’s breathing had increased and she’d flipped her hair—yet again. The corner of Robert’s mouth curved up. He’d always enjoyed the attention he received from women, especially if said attention seemed to bother the only woman he ever really wanted. Meeks, on the other hand, didn’t seem to take notice of anyone other than his wife. So Robert was in good company.
“If you’d all come this way,” she said.
“Ladies first,” Robert chimed, stepping aside so Farrah could move past.
“Such a gentleman,” Farrah shot back.
“You should know that nothing could be further from the truth,” he answered with a knowing wink.
Farrah huffed, but didn’t come back with her normal biting retort. They followed Karen through a set of double doors and down a well-lit hall with white marble floors and white walls into another small waiting area. The room had walls painted light gray, with pictures and posters that centered on pregnancy, and was filled with low-back gray leather chairs.
“You two will need to wait here, and someone will come for you when they’re ready to start the ultrasound,” she said to both Farrah and Robert.
They both acknowledged her request with a small nod.
“Follow me, Mr. Montgomery. I’ll take you to your wife.”
“I’ll see you two in a bit,” Meeks said before giving them both a lengthy once-over and asking, “Are you two okay?”
“Yes, why do you ask?” Farrah said, her red lips pulled into a scowl.
“If I didn’t know any better,” Meeks said, tilting his head, “I swear you two were acting like a married couple in the middle of a fight.”
“You don’t say,” Robert teased, garnering an angry glare from Farrah.
Meeks shook his head and continued down the hall. Both Robert and Farrah took a seat next to each other. “I guess now we wait,” Robert said.
“I guess so,” Farrah agreed as she sat and crossed her legs. Her dress rose a few inches, offering Robert a view of Farrah’s thighs—a move that he could have done without. Now he was imagining what delightful things Farrah had on under that shape-defining dress. He knew first hand that she spared no expense when it came to buying and wearing beautiful, soft and sensual underwear. Robert’s sex grew hard as steel.
Robert quickly flicked his wrist and checked his watch, then pulled out his phone and sorted through a few emails.
“We passed an area with a coffee and vending machine on our way in here. You want something?” Farrah asked, getting to her feet.
He couldn’t actually say that what he wanted was the woman herself.
“I can get it,” Robert said, putting away his phone.
“I need to stretch my legs,” Farrah insisted.
“If you insist, sure, coffee would be fine. You know how I like it...strong and hot,” he teased, staring up at her, his face expressionless. The sexual tension between them was choking him.
Before Farrah could make a move toward the door, a male nurse stepped to them. “They’re ready for you,” he said.
Robert rose from his chair, slowly, discreetly making an attempt to adjust himself. He took a deep breath and released it slowly. “You ready?” Robert finally asked, offering his hand.
Farrah nodded slowly as her eyes darted away from the reason he had clearly needed a moment. He was too turned on to be embarrassed. Hell, the woman was practically his wife. More like
