It's Only Make Believe Read Free Page A

married life all the more pleasant. He stared out the window as they drove past the tree-lined drive and their house came into view. He hated this house, hated everything about it. It was the type of house they both grew up in. But certainly not one he’d have chosen for himself. Why did his parents think he shared their same tastes? Of course, Michele probably liked it, and he did have to compromise. Besides, the amount of time he spent traveling, he may as well live in a hotel room. Suddenly, Michele pulled away. Now what came over her?  He had to admit she puzzled him One minute giving in and the next withdrawing. The chauffer pulled into the circular drive in front of the mansion.
    He helped Michele out of the car and led her into the house. Once inside he took her into his arms, his body smoldered with desire.
    “Not now, Brad, I’m tired and our flight leaves early in the morning.” Michele backed away and turned her head, but not before Brad saw the desire her eyes. “Not that I’d mind missing the flight. I have no desire to go to Cancun.”
    Disappointed and frustrated, he released her. He didn’t want to push her, she’d come to him willingly later. He sensed the desire in her, and she probably was tired. It had been a long day. He was tired himself.
    He dropped his hands, backed away and went to fix himself a drink. “Would you like a nightcap?”
     
    ***
    “No, thank you.” Disappointed, Michele shivered as he moved his warm body away from her. She hurried upstairs to their room, looked around, and found the décor not to her liking. Too tired to worry about it now, she got out of her dress, slipped into bed, fluffed up the pillow and fell instantly asleep.
     
     
     
    CHAPTER THREE
     
    Michele woke before the alarm. Brad lay on the far side of the king-size-bed, his muscular arms and chest uncovered and bare. She longed to reach out to smooth the disarray of his wavy black hair, mussed from what looked like a restless night. It begged her to run her fingers through it. She wanted to touch his cheek, run her fingers across his lips. Lips that had tantalized hers from the slightest pressure to those hard demanding kisses. Who was this man? What made him tick?
    She thought back to when they were children.
    Remembered him, playful and teasing. Now he moved in different circles than her, with a much faster crowd. She smiled, remembering the crush she had on him - a silly school-girl crush - which ended when he went to high school. After that she seldom saw him, having her own group of friends. So how, she wondered, as she lay next to him, had she allowed them to talk her into marrying him?
    Michele had gone to the best schools, the most expensive summer camps and took the usual tour of Europe. She had conformed, always doing what her parents expected. At least she had until she opened her Interior Design business. Her parents, mostly her mother, had tried to arrange her life. Mother didn’t like the idea that her daughter started her own business, no matter how successful. After all, “Markey” women got married and had families, not careers. Her parents had expected her to marry the right man and for years she dated men they expected her to date. But she ignored all the prospects and had gotten away with it until they suggested she marry Brad. More of a demand than a suggestion.
    She had laughed at the idea. She and Brad had nothing in common. Yet somehow, all of a sudden their parents managed to bring them together at various events. Brad appeared polite but disinterested, which was fine with her. She had no desire to marry anyone. Her career had just gotten underway.
    Since their parents and grandparents had grown up together, they had always assumed she and Brad would marry. And pressure mounted from them until suddenly she and Brad found themselves thrown together and left alone to “get to know each other better.”  Brad became an attentive date. Six months later, their parents laid out their