Nothing Personal

by Jaci Burton

They weren't strangers, either, so she should know he always kept his word. His word, in business, was as good as a written contract. And Faith knew that.

  So what about him frightened her? Was it even him? Her fear was completely unnatural given the circumstances. He'd already agreed to give her two months.

  Something else bothered her, something that made her so afraid that he knew if he suggested she camp out on the bedroom floor she'd have jumped at the chance.

  He meant to find out what it was.

  *

  It hadn't been at all like Faith thought it would be. The closer it got to bedtime, the more she'd hyperventilated. Why she'd been so afraid she had no idea, but it turned out her fears were groundless.

  She had prepared herself for Ryan's attempts to convince her to have sex. Okay, maybe she could have been persuaded, if she could avoid leaping out of her skin should he touch her.

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  But she needn't have worried. Within twenty minutes she'd heard his deep breathing and knew he was asleep.

  Then she'd finally exhaled. And tried to ignore the stab of disappointment.

  What an idiot. First she'd been scared to death he'd touch her. And now, she was upset because he hadn't? What did she want from him?

  If only she knew.

  At least by the second night she wasn't as panic-stricken as she had been the first, knowing he wouldn't be pouncing on her the minute she got into bed.

  This time, she hadn't balanced on the edge like a tightrope walker.

  And she'd actually managed to sleep.

  Good thing, too, because today they'd head back to the office, those first awkward nights almost a distant memory already. The rest of the weekend she'd hardly seen Ryan, only for meals and at bedtime. He'd locked himself in his office claiming paperwork, but she knew it was because he really had no idea what to do with a wife around.

  At least they'd have work to do today. By the time she'd awakened this morning, Ryan had already dressed and left the bedroom. Whether that was his usual routine or he'd done it as a courtesy to her, she didn't know. Either way she dressed and readied herself in a hurry, then went downstairs to find him sitting at the table, reading the newspaper and finishing breakfast.

  "Good morning," she said, taking a seat and smiling her thanks when Margaret brought her a cup of coffee.

  "Morning," he mumbled from behind the Wall Street Journal.

  Now that was the Ryan she knew. The one who rarely looked up from whatever document he was engrossed in to even acknowledge her presence. Aloof, businesslike Ryan she could handle.

  She rose to fix herself breakfast, but Margaret glared at her and told her to sit down.

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  The thought of other people doing things for her didn't seem right, but she sat at the table. "I can cook, Margaret, and I'm sure you have other things to do."

  Margaret shook her head. "The lady of the house does not cook.

  That's my job."

  "But..." She was about to protest but stopped when Ryan's hand lightly touched hers. He had put the paper down and crooked a smile at her, shaking his head.

  "Don't bother arguing with Margaret," he said. "She's vicious and always gets her way."

  "I heard that," Margaret said over the sound of sizzling bacon.

  Margaret threw a glance over her shoulder at Ryan, who winked at her.

  Faith caught the housekeeper's grin before she turned back to her cooking.

  Interesting. Faith hadn't thought Ryan had feelings for anyone.

  Apparently she'd been wrong about that. His relationship with Margaret seemed close, almost like parent and child.

  They rode to the office in Ryan's car but didn't speak. He started his business day early and spent the entire time on the phone.

  "What will you be telling everyone at the office?" she asked when he ended his call.

  "About what?"

  "About us. Don't you think when everyone left on Friday they'd expect you'd be on your honeymoon today instead of coming back to the office?

  And that you'd be married to Erica, not me?"

  Ryan didn't answer.

  "You don't even have to tell anyone you married me," she said. "I certainly understand that you wouldn't want anyone to know."

  He frowned. "Why wouldn't I want anyone to know?"

  "That's quite obvious, don't you think?"

  "Not to me."

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  Was he going to force her to say it? "Because you married me. Not Erica, not one of your friends. Me."

  He swerved into a fast food parking lot, threw the car into park and turned to her. "And?"

  "I'm merely stating the obvious. I'd like to know how you wish me to handle the inevitable questions."

  "Tell anyone who asks that Erica backed out and you were gracious enough to marry me."

  He had to be kidding. "Excuse me?"

  "You heard me."

  "You want me to tell everyone that I was gracious enough to marry you."

  "Yes."

  Right. Promptly followed by their hysterical laughter. "They'll ask questions. They'll want to know why."

  "If they want more information than that, tell them it's none of their damn business. And if they still persist, then let me know and I'll handle it in a way I'm certain they won't care for."

  He accelerated out of the parking lot and continued the drive to work.

  That was it. End of discussion. She was supposed to tell all the employees and all of his business associates that he had married her.

  And then offer no explanation other than none of your business.

  Sometimes he made her job difficult.

  "Besides," he added, "Everyone at the hotel saw us Friday night. We did get married there, remember? By now, they all know."

  Of course, he was right. She cringed at the thought and wondered what kind of reception she'd get when they showed up at work together.

  *

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  They were greeted by thunderous cheers and applause as they entered the office. Faith was stunned. Ryan had been right. Everyone knew.

  Her desk was littered with cards and congratulatory banners, paper wedding bells and confetti. She tried to mask her thrill but couldn't help the silly giggle that escaped. What fun!

  How much of everyone's enthusiasm was sincere and how much was due to the employees' attempts to kiss up to Ryan she didn't know, and frankly didn't care. It beat the cold stares or laughs she had expected to receive.

  Ryan tolerated it for about fifteen minutes before he placed his hand on Faith's shoulder, lightly squeezing. She turned her head in his direction and he placed a soft kiss on her cheek, completely surprising her. And eliciting more applause from the crowd.

  "I have some calls to make so I'll leave them in your capable hands,"

  he whispered before retreating to his office and closing the door.

  She spent a few more minutes socializing and then begged everyone to let her tackle the mound of paperwork on her desk. In a few minutes they were gone.

  Faith smiled and sighed as she sat at her desk and twirled the large diamond ring around her finger. It wasn't at all as bad as she expected.

  Everyone had been nice.

  At least no one had laughed in front of her. But later, when she wasn't around, she was certain the gossip would begin.

  *

  "Do you think he was drunk that night?"

  "Who knows? He would have to be to marry her."

  Ryan stopped at the doorway to the kitchen.

  "She's so dowdy. And what's with those ugly suits she wears?"

  "And that hair, can you imagine? It looks like a bird's nest."

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&nb
sp; "Well the bird's nest goes with those glasses. They make her look like an owl."

  Laughter erupted as the gossip continued. With every word, Ryan's blood pressure rose. He hated gossip. It was malicious, cruel, and often overheard by the person being discussed, leading to very hurt feelings.

  This time they weren't discussing him. God knows he'd heard employees talking about him before, and it just rolled off his back. He was the head of the company, and was used to making decisions that someone didn't like, which invariably led to the staff bitching about him.

  But these people were talking about his wife. And he didn't like it one damn bit.

  "I'll bet he has to put a bag over her head to sleep with her."

  That got the crowed laughing madly.

  And was the straw that broke the boss's back. He'd had enough.

  As soon as he entered the kitchen, all laughter and conversation halted.

  "Afternoon everyone," he said, trying to sound cheerful. Inside, he was seething. He'd almost stepped in and blasted them, but decided on a different tactic.

  Ryan fixed his coffee, making sure to take his time. Then he turned to them.

  "I wanted to tell you all how much it meant to Faith to be received so well this morning."

  Uneasy smiles filled the room.

  "She was so nervous about what everyone would think. I told her not to worry at all, that McKay employees were the best of the best and would be more than happy about our marriage."

  People shifted in their chairs.

  "It's nice to know I wasn't wrong in that assessment. I was afraid some people would be jealous of Faith, or even make nasty comments about our marriage and the reasons for it. But I know that you all see in her what I've always seen."

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  More uncomfortable stirring. Staring out the windows, looking at the floors.

  "Her kindness. Her intelligence. The way she accepts everyone regardless of their position." His gaze scanned the room. "Or their looks.

  Damn, am I a lucky man or what?"

  No comments. A few nods and murmurs of agreement.

  "Have a nice lunch, everyone." Ryan took his cup and walked out of the kitchen whistling.

  He smiled all the way back to his office. Now that was fun.

  Bunch of worthless gossips. He made a mental note to have employee evaluations conducted as soon as possible. It was time for a weeding out.

  Sometimes it was good to be the king.

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  Chapter Six

  "We're doing what?" Faith asked.

  "Going shopping." Ryan noted her crossed arms and stubborn stance. This was going to be a battle.

  "Why?" she challenged.

  "Faith, do we have to argue about this? I thought all women loved to go shopping." Ryan leaned against the door to their bedroom's dressing area, completely flabbergasted at his wife's reluctance to shop.

  "This one doesn't."

  He could have laughed at the way she looked, her lips pressed firmly together and her eyes squinting in stubborn accusation.

  "Why not?"

  "I don't need anything." She'd already dismissed the idea and headed into their bathroom to pull her hair into that god-awful bun she wore.

  "So?" He followed, determined to convince her.

  "So why go shopping if I don't need to buy anything?"

  Never in his life had he needed to convince a woman to spend his money. Was Faith from another planet?

  Time to change tactics.

  "I need to buy a few things, and I'd like you to go with me."

  She stopped, her hands tangled in her hair and turned to look at him. "Oh. Okay."

  Truthfully, the last thing in the world Ryan wanted to do on a Saturday was go shopping. But after spending the week mulling over the office gossip, he'd grown more irritated. Every time he thought about how 72

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  they'd judged Faith based on her looks, he was more determined than ever to show them how wrong they were.

  So he decided Faith needed a little change in her attire. Not that she needed to change. But after pondering the staff's comments, he wondered how much of what they said was a reflection of how she felt about herself.

  Did she see herself as unattractive and plain? Did she dress that way deliberately in order to bury her insecurities?

  Somewhere underneath that spinster getup was a beautiful butterfly, and Ryan intended to unwrap the cocoon.

  *

  This wasn't at all the shopping trip Faith had imagined. They'd ended up at Saks Fifth Avenue, in the Women's Department.

  "I didn't know you wore women's clothes." She cast him a suspicious glare.

  "I didn't know you hid a sense of humor under all those baggy things you wear."

  "I'm not hiding anything," she said, adjusting the hips of her loose jeans and pulling the hem of her shirt down past her hips. "I like these clothes."

  "Yes, they look ...uh...comfortable, to say the least. However, now that you're my wife I'd appreciate if you'd indulge me and let me buy you a few things appropriate for Mrs. Ryan McKay."

  She couldn't very well argue with that. The last thing she wanted to do was embarrass Ryan. She let him drag her to the designer boutique.

  The place was virtually empty except for two eager saleswomen who promptly gushed over Ryan while directing disapproving looks in Faith's direction.

  "My wife needs a new wardrobe," he said to the ladies who identified themselves as Margo and Marie.

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  "Obviously," Margo replied, looking down her nose at Faith.

  And these women made their living in sales?

  Margo was in her early forties, her blonde hair swept up into a stylish twist. Marie was a twentyish version of Margo, with moonlit blonde hair and a body that could easily grace the centerfold of most men's magazines.

  "What would you like to see?" Margo asked Ryan, apparently already grabbing a clue as to who held the credit card.

  "Everything. Start with the basics and then work your way up.

  Business, casual and social, along with accessories."

  Both women's eyes lit up like they'd just been given a Christmas bonus. They each took hold of one of Faith's elbows and steered her in the direction of the dressing room. She turned her head to shoot Ryan a pleading look. He smiled and waved, then picked up the remote control to the television in the waiting area. She'd already been forgotten.

  In no time at all the women had evaluated her. She felt like she was about to be sold at auction. Margo spoke and Marie took notes.

  "Five foot two, thirty-four B, twenty-four inch waist, thirty-five inch hips, thirty-inch inseam. Definitely a size four and petite."

  Four? Petite? Who were they talking about? Surely not her. Bad enough to be standing there in nothing but her panties and bra, let alone being inventoried. Why in the world had she agreed to this?

  "The first thing that has to go is that horrid cotton underwear."

  What? This was not an underwear fashion show, and she was as undressed as she was going to get. She had let them poke and measure her, but she was standing firm on this one. The underwear stayed right where it was.

  But she'd underestimated their power of persuasion. In the blink of an eye they had convinced her to squeeze into a flimsy, black silk chemise. It was one piece with a push-up bra that, even to Faith's eyes, gave her cleavage. It clung to her hips and rode high in the back.

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  "It's too small." She looked in the mirror and tried to tug what little fabric there was over her hips. The darn thing clung so tight she couldn't breathe. She preferred her underwear, like her clothes, to fit more loosely.

  "It hugs your body perfectly
. Wait until your husband sees you in that."

  Not in a million years.

  At last they brought clothes for her to try on over the scandalous lingerie. Every outfit was too small. Faith argued with both women for over ten minutes, steadfastly refusing to put on a single piece of clothing that wasn't her usual size.

  Margo frowned at her. "You're a petite size four, Mrs. McKay, not three sizes larger."

  "That's the size I usually buy, and it fits."

  "Of course it fits. If there were two of you wearing the clothes it would still fit."

  She burned with the need to stick out her tongue at Margo, but she tamped down the childish urge and lifted her chin. "I'm not trying any of those clothes on. It's a waste of my time and yours. They won't fit."

  "We'll see about that," Margo replied before flouncing off in a huff.

  Marie stood in the dressing room preventing Faith's escape, her arms crossed in front of her chest and a smug look on her flawless face.

  Faith released a sigh. Margo was going to get the correct sizes for her.

  Her sigh turned to a gasp when she came back with Ryan in tow.

  There was nowhere to run and absolutely no place to hide. She didn't even have her own clothes as those vicious saleswomen had removed them from the dressing room. The women smiled and left her alone with Ryan.

  Alone with her husband, and there she was in nothing but some black, lacy handkerchief.

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  Ryan stood there, mouth agape, and looked her over from head to toe. His eyes burned smoky and hot as his gaze took in her breasts, hips and legs.

  Short of using the chair as clothing, she had nothing to cover herself with except her own hands. This was the most embarrassing thing that had ever happened to her.

  "Wow," he rasped, his eyes raking over her.

  Ready to self combust in agonizing embarrassment, Faith could do nothing but stand inspection under his heated gaze.

  Ryan cleared his throat. "Margo said you were having a disagreement about sizes."

  Willing herself to disappear, she heaved a sigh. "There is no disagreement. I know what size I wear."

  A feminine hand slipped through the door and handed Ryan a dress.

  He took it and stepped toward her.

  "Why don't you try this on?" He handed Faith the black dress that she'd already told the women would never fit.

  She grabbed it and held it in front of her, grateful at least for its blanketing abilities. "It's the wrong size."