The One Month Marriage

“Jana, I thought we agreed that I was to have breakfast alone. You know I need this time to think over the day, get a jump—”

“I was simply too excited to wait.” Jana yanked out the chair at his right elbow and planted herself in it. “First of all, I have to thank you for clarifying things for me last night. I realized you’re absolutely right. We both must live up to our duties and responsibilities if our marriage is going to work.”

Brandon nodded thoughtfully. “Good. I’m relieved to hear you say that.”

“Yes, I thought you would be.” Jana plucked a grape from the fruit bowl on the table and popped it into her mouth. “And I’m glad we’re in agreement.”

Brandon’s gaze lingered on her lips. “Well, huh, yes, so am I.”

Jana took another grape, rolled it against her lips, then pushed it into her mouth, her finger lingering a few seconds between her lips.

“So, today,” she went on, rubbing her lips together, “we will both go forth with a new commitment to our roles as husband and wife. I’m excited.”

Brandon shifted in the chair. “I’m growing excited myself.”

“I’m starting on the house today. The decorating is long overdue. I intend to give it my full attention. Nothing will be left undone.” Jana selected a banana from the serving bowl, peeled it and slid it past her lips. She paused, not biting into it, and pulled it out again. “If that’s all right with you, of course.”

“Huh?”

She touched her tongue to the tip of the banana. “Do I have free rein to decorate the house?”

He just looked at her.

“Brandon? The decorating? Brandon?”

He dragged his gaze from her lips up to her eyes, then ran his finger under his shirt collar. “Oh, yes, the decorating. Of course. Do whatever you want. The house is yours.”

“And you’ll take care of the grounds?” Jana asked, biting slowly into the banana.

He gulped, his gaze dropping to her mouth again. “What…whatever you want.”

Jana chewed slowly, then swallowed. “The grounds, like so many other things here, are in need of some long overdue attention. Wouldn’t you agree?”

His breathing picked up. “Oh, hell yeah…”

“I’ll inform the gardeners of the changes I want, and you’ll oversee their work, if that’s all right with you.” She closed her lips around the banana once more and bit into it.

“Certainly…”

She swallowed quickly, laid the banana aside and jumped to her feet. “Excellent. I’ll get started immediately.”

“You’re—you’re leaving?” He came out of his chair.

“Duties and responsibilities call,” she said briskly and snatched up both newspapers from the table. “I’ll need these.”

Brandon looked at the spot where the newspapers had lain, then up at her. “What for?”

“As I recall, the Times has the best advertisements for all those fabulous stores along Wilshire.” Jana waved her hand about the room. “Brandon, I have an entire house to decorate.”

“What about the Messenger?” he asked, gesturing lamely to the other newspaper.

“After you explained to me last night about the situation with the Messenger, I wanted to look it over, see if I can discern exactly what you mean,” Jana explained.

“But I always read the newspaper on the way to the office,” Brandon said.

“I’m sure that after our breakfast together this morning, you’ll have plenty to occupy your mind.” She flicked the tip of her tongue along her bottom lip, gave him a slow smile, and left the breakfast room.

“Jana! Wait!”

She turned back to see Brandon hurry after her. His cheeks were slightly flushed and a tiny drop of perspiration hung in his sideburn.

She’d seen those things before.

Brandon eased closer. “Does our new commitment to our duties and responsibilities include a resumption of our…marital relations?”

She frowned thoughtfully, then nodded. “Oh, you mean our lovemaking. As we used to do. You and me rolling around beneath the covers until the wee of the morning? All those delightfully sinful moments we shared?”

His breathing quickened. “Yes?”

“Hum…” Jana tapped her finger against her lips. “Perhaps we could consider that.”

“Now?”

She tsked. “Brandon, we have our responsibilities to see to today.”

“Yes, but—”

She touched his chest with the newspaper. “Let’s discuss it at supper tonight, shall we?”

“I’ll be home early,” he promised.

Jana gave him a saucy little grin and left him standing in the doorway.

“What the hell!”

Brandon’s roar rang through the house, down the hallway and into the sitting room, bringing Jana up out of her chair.

Though she felt a little guilty about her blatant flirting and not-so-subtle innuendo this morning at the breakfast table, she’d assuaged her conscience today with the conviction of her decision: if she couldn’t get him to stay home, she could never torment him enough so that he’d ask her to leave.

She glanced at the mantel clock and smiled to herself. Just past the stroke of six and Brandon was home.

So far, her plan was working beautifully.

Jana left the sitting room and found Brandon in the foyer glaring at the scaffolds, reams of wallpaper, cans of paint, tools, equipment and the dozen workmen extending down the hallway.

“Good evening, Brandon,” she greeted him, a placid smile on her face. It wasn’t easy holding that expression in place against Brandon’s scowl, even though she’d expected it in this next phase of her plan.

“What the hell is going on?” he demanded, raising his voice over the din of banging hammers and grinding saws.

“I’m decorating,” she said. “Remember? We discussed it at breakfast this morning.”

“This isn’t decorating!”

“It’s the way I decorate,” she said crisply. “I’m knocking out a few of the walls.”

“Knocking out the—what?” He gaze pinged around, then turned back at her. “Jana, you can’t knock out a—”

She drew herself up a little. “You told me this morning that I could do whatever I wanted with the house.”

He blinked. “I said that?”

“Oh, yes. My mind reeled with the possibilities. After all, you put me in charge of this project so I want to do my very best to please you. And, of course, to live up to my duty as your wife.”

Brandon’s gaze crawled over the workmen. “I never said you could do all of this.”

“But you did put me in charge of the house, correct?”

“Yes, of course, I did. But—”

“And you do expect me to take my responsibilities seriously?”

“Yes—”

“And it is my duty as your wife to take over the house, is it not?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“Good. I’m glad I have your approval. Come along. I want you to see everything I’m doing.”

Jana led the way down the hallway, skirting workmen, stepping over tools, and stopped at the doorway to the parlor. She waved her arm.

“I’m taking out those two walls, widening this whole wing of the house and lowering the floor.”

“Lowering the—”

“And wait until you see what I’m doing to your study.”

“My study?” Brandon bristled further. “My study is—”

“—part of the house, correct?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“I take the responsibilities you’ve given me very seriously, Brandon,” she informed him. “I’m reworking the entire house, which includes your study. Come, I’ll show you.”

Jana ducked under ladders and sidestepped scaffolding until she reached Brandon’s study. With the furniture pushed to the center of the wall and shrouded beneath a tarp, three carpenters stripped the walls, ceiling and floors.

Brandon pressed his palm against his forehead, his eyes wide. “What the…?”

“I’m renovating the entire room, floor to ceiling. For you,” Jana announced.

“Where the hell am I supposed to work?”

“I found you a new spot,” Jana told him. “A room off the kitchen.”

He frowned. “What room?”

“The one next to the pantry.”

“That’s a storage room.”

“It will be cozy. You’ll feel snug in there,” Jana assured him. “Your things are already in place…those that fit, anyway.”

“This is unacceptable,” Brandon declared. “I need a place to work.”

She gazed up at him. “Didn’t you say we both had to accept our responsibilities? Are you saying you’re not willing to do that?”

“Of course, but—”

“Then you understand that we both have to make a few minor adjustments to get our marriage back on track. Isn’t that what you want?”

“I need my study,” he insisted.

“And you’ll have it,” she assured him. “I’m instructing the carpenters to make this room their first priority. Now, here’s what I’m doing with your study. You’ll love it. It’s going to be pink.”

“Pink?”

“Pink.”

“Pink?”

“It’s the rage in Europe. I don’t know why it hasn’t caught on here yet,” Jana declared. She gestured to the walls. “There’ll be a mural of lambs and ducks over there, and cherubs frolicking on clouds on the ceiling. It will be very soothing.”

Brandon closed his eyes, pressed his fingertips against his temples and rubbed little circles. He drew in a breath and looked at Jana.

“When you said you were going to decorate, I didn’t think you meant—”

“See? You’ve just proved my point. You’re tense and anxious after a hard day at the office, and the new, more restful motif in your study will be just the thing to relax you.”

He blew out a tired breath. “Jana, I don’t—”

“The workmen are leaving momentarily.”

“Good,” he mumbled, releasing a heavy sigh.

“Our guests are arriving shortly.”

He jerked upright again. “Guests? Tonight? You know I prefer quiet evenings at home.”

“A man in your position has social obligations, all of which have been overlooked for far too long,” Jana told him. “But don’t worry, I’m taking charge of that also. Just as you wanted.”

Jana strode off down the hallway toward the kitchen. “Do change your shirt,” she called, not looking back.

When she reached the kitchen door she paused and glanced back. Brandon stood among the disarray, the pounding hammers and grinding saws, rubbing his forehead.

A pang of guilt swept through her. She’d never seen him look so distressed. For an instant she wanted to shout at the workmen to leave, take Brandon to the sitting room, place a cool cloth on his head.

But Jana did none of those things. She pushed into the kitchen hoping with all her heart that Brandon would ask her to leave soon. This plan of hers was harder to execute than she imagined.

Chapter Seven

H e couldn’t remember a more miserable evening.

Slumped in his office desk chair, Brandon threaded his fingers together across his chest, remembering the hellish evening he’d spent last night—in his own home, no less.

Bad enough that he’d walked in on the complete chaos of workmen, loud noises and flying sawdust. Then he’d had to endure supper with two young women he didn’t know and whose names he’d forgotten before the soup was served.

Friends of Jana’s, she’d explained shortly before their arrival. She’d run into them that morning while shopping on Wilshire and invited them for supper. Brandon had hardly been able to get through the meal for all their incessant chatter about fabric, hats and closet space.

He’d have left the table had it not been for Jana’s gown—or, more accurately, Jana’s bosom.

The familiar craving claimed him once more, just as it had all evening, all during the night and all morning. His desire for Jana simmered, bubbling up over and over by thoughts of her continually popping into his head. He’d cancelled an appointment today to hide out in his office, not thinking himself fit to be seen in public.

Oh, God, how he wanted her.

He’d done an admirable job of controlling himself, he thought, since her return. Not an easy undertaking, given that she was under his roof, steps away, even more beautiful and voluptuous than when she’d left fourteen months ago.

Yes, he’d managed just fine until last night…until she showed up at the supper table in that gown.

Brandon ached anew at the recollection of sitting at the opposite end of the table from her with a nearly unfettered view of his wife’s breasts which threatened to escape her bodice at any moment.

Or so he’d caught himself hoping.

He’d never seen the amethyst gown on her before so he figured she’d purchased it while in Europe. Perhaps the style was different there, gowns cut lower than usual. Her creamy white skin had shone in the lamplight, glistening against the dark purple fabric of the gown. Her full, plump breasts undulated with each breath, each movement, mesmerizing him.

He’d nearly groaned aloud when she reached for the salt.

Jana had magnificent breasts. He remembered that from their first three glorious months together. But somehow, they looked bigger now.

Or perhaps it was just that he hadn’t seen them in a while. Or touched them. Or—

A brisk knock sounded on his office door and Noah Carmichael stepped into the room. Brandon rolled his chair farther under his desk, and grumbled, “What do you want?”

Noah frowned. “Still no marital bliss, huh?”

“I know you have an office in this building, so why don’t you stay there?” Brandon asked, squaring off the stacks of papers and ledgers on his desk.

“I take it the answer to my question is no,” Noah said, settling into a chair in front of Brandon’s desk. He held out a piece of paper. “Several more people interested in the Jennings Building. You and I are going to make a fortune on this thing.”

Brandon snatched the paper from his hand and, after a cursory glance, slapped it down. “I don’t know why the hell it should be so difficult to have a wife.”

“No honeymoon,” Noah told him.

Brandon pressed his lips together to stifle a moan as another wave of wanting swelled in him.

“You should have taken Jana on a honeymoon,” Noah continued. “Just the two of you. Endless days of mindless lovemaking. Nothing to do but burrow beneath the covers and—”

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