Cin Wikkid: April Fools For Love by Mary Hughes Page A

fingers against his cheek. It was cool, almost cold, the flesh bumpy. He held still for her touch for all of a millisecond before turning out from under her fingers.
    “Maybe. But you—you definitely should go.” Again, his gaze was anywhere but her.
    She didn’t understand what he was getting at, why he was so distant, and it churned up anxious feelings. “I don’t have time for a party.”
    “You should make time. It’s the only way you can get in the running.”
    “The running for what? Rafe, you’re not making any sense.”
    “In the running to marry Gideon Prince.”
    The floor seemed to heave under her feet. “What? Why would you think I’d want to marry him?”
    “You’ve got to think of your future.” He finally turned to her, taking her hands, his blue gaze searching hers. “Hear me out. Prince is wealthy. Really, really wealthy. You’d never want for anything in your life again.”
    Frustration, almost anger, bubbled inside her, frothing over into a hiss. Rafe was usually so intuitive. Why didn’t he understand?
    She didn’t want Prince or his money because she was falling in love with him .
    But she couldn’t say that, not with the way he was promoting Prince.
    She didn’t understand why he’d do that, why he’d talk up another man, especially marriage to another man.
    Unless Rafe knew how she felt about him.
    Her stomach dropped, as if the floor had suddenly disappeared. What if he wanted to avoid hearing her declaring her feelings out loud, because he didn’t feel the same?
    Maybe it was just sex for him after all.
    Her shoulders folded in on her. Her mother’s teachings came back to her, not in comfort this time, but in rebuke. Work hard and turn away from temptations.
    The one time she hadn’t, this had happened.
    A bolt of anger made her pull her hands from his. She spat, “I’d never marry Gideon Prince.”
    Rafe startled. “Why not?”
    “Because h-he’s a serial dater.”
    “That sounds sinister.” One corner of his mouth quirked, as if he was trying to smile, but the bunched scars gave it a pained look. “Like a serial killer?”
    “Like he takes each woman in his circle out exactly once.” She knew she was parroting Milly, but something about Rafe’s insistence that she try to marry another man set her teeth on edge, biting wrong and scraping incisors together. “Like he can’t do simple commitment.”
    “Maybe he hasn’t found the right woman, yet.” Rafe’s mouth tightened, his attempted smile dying. “Maybe he’s desperate to find her, and this was the only way he could think to do it.”
    “What, parade a bunch of women in front of him like horses and marry the best of show?”
    He flinched and turned away as if it was all suddenly too much for him. “Look, maybe we’d better study.”
    “Maybe we’d better.” She knew she sounded snippy and tried to make amends, touching his arm. “Um…I brought a present for you, for after.” Though the gift was for herself as well.
    “We’ll see.” He shook his head. “We have a lot to do tonight.”
    His lack of enthusiasm drained her of her joy. Her arm dropped. “Oh. Right.”
    The work was harder than usual as she battled with both tax presentation and her own growing wretchedness. She and Rafe had fought. They’d never fought before. And rather than work things out, he’d pushed her away, using work as a cover. Like her father.
    By the end of the night she was exhausted. She splatted onto the couch. Her shoulder itched fiercely, but it was all she could do to lift an arm to scratch.
    He tsked. “You’re scratching yourself a lot tonight. Let me do something for you. I’ve got lotion for your back.”
    She thought about snapping, Now you want to be nice? but didn’t have the energy. She just peeled off sweater and bra and flopped gratefully onto her breasts.
    The sound of brisk rubbing came from behind her, then the dent of his knee as he knelt on the cushion beside her hips. Gravity started her