Married By Mistake

nasty than pathetic.”
    “That explains a lot,” she muttered. She pushed her quilt aside and climbed out of bed. On the way to fetch her robe, she detoured to the window to open the shutters.
    “Casey, don’t.” Adam rushed to stop her, but it was too late.
    She froze. Adam must have left the gates open last night because the front garden was a seething mass of journalists. When the crowd saw her and Adam at the window, the photographers raised their cameras and began snapping away.
    * * *
    B Y BREAKFAST TIME Sunday, Adam was starting to feel as if they were on a rerun of their honeymoon. Only this time around, even though they had a whole house to share, being shut in with Casey was even greater torment.
    He sighed. Was it too much to hope that something more newsworthy had happened in Memphis overnight to drag the media away from his front yard?
    He turned from the toaster to ask, “How are the headlines today?”
    Casey read from the front page of the Sunday paper. “‘Love or Lies? Carmichaels in hiding.’” She showed him the picture—of her in her nightgown, openmouthed at the bedroom window, with Adam behind her, his expression dark. “This paper claims the other guys got it wrong, judging by the fact that we appeared at the same window together, halfclothed.”
    “They just wish they’d thought of coming in undercover themselves.” Adam took the opportunity to inhale Casey’s fresh, morning fragrance as he stepped closer to scan the article. He grimaced at the rampant speculations it contained. “I wish these people had something better to do. We need a real disaster the press can focus on, something else to fill the front pages.”
    “Earthquake? Political assassination?” Casey suggested helpfully.
    “I didn’t say I wanted anyone to die. Some fraudster conning old ladies out of their fortunes would do. He could start with Eloise.”
    “Adam! You don’t want that to happen. You know you’d feel obliged to come to her rescue.”
    “Very funny.” Not only would he feel obliged to help Eloise, these days he’d actually want to. Adam turned back to the toaster. “How do you like your toast?”
    “Toasted,” Casey said.
    “What does that mean?”
    “It means however it comes. How many ways are there to have toast?”
    “There’s well done, medium and light,” he said. “But pardon me for asking.”
    He gathered from her humph that she’d never heard such a dumb question. That’s what a guy got when he tried to be considerate. Life was so much easier before he’d started...liking Casey.
    “We need a strategy,” he said.
    “Are you still talking about toast?” she asked ominously.
    “I’m talking about proving our marriage is genuine.”
    “You can’t prove something that’s not true,” she objected.
    “If you think I’m going to let all of Memphis believe I’m not capable of making my wife happy—”
    “Didn’t you say it’s cool to be nasty?”
    “I said it’s better than being pathetic. But if they’re going to imply it’s my fault you and I aren’t sleeping together...”
    She laughed out loud. “This all comes down to your masculine pride. Memphis’s most eligible bachelor, unable to please his wife.”
    Show Adam the man who wouldn’t take that as a challenge, and he’d show you someone truly pathetic. And they’d already established that wasn’t him.
    He advanced on her.
    “Adam, put that knife down,” Casey warned him, a wicked look in her eyes. He realized he was still carrying the butter-smeared implement, and tossed it onto the counter. She stepped backward, but soon came up against the fridge.
    Adam put a hand on either side of her, effectively pinning her in position.
    “I’ll scream,” she said. “The journalists outside will hear.”
    “I locked the gates last night,” he reminded her. “There’s no one here but you and your nasty husband.”
    He cut off her next words by pressing his mouth to hers. There was a moment of muffled protest, then the familiar heat rose between them and Casey was returning his kisses as fast as he could supply them. The tautness of her breasts through the thin cotton of her sundress, pressing against his chest, reminded Adam of that first day they’d met, when she’d run right into him.
    She pulled away, but not before he’d completed a thorough exploration of her mouth. “Okay,” she gasped. “I’ll put out a statement to the media saying you’re quite capable of satisfying