Wife for Hire

by Christine Bell

  “Come on, faker, I can tell you’re not sleeping. Get up for a second and talk to me.”

  She sighed and pushed herself into a sitting position. “I know what you’re going to say, and the answer is no. You sleeping on this couch is like a bull trying to squeeze into a bird’s nest.”

  “I agree, but this is silly, too.” He gestured to her on the couch. “You were right about the bed before. There’s no reason we can’t be adults and make this work. We can do the thing with the pillows if it makes you feel better.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You said that wouldn’t cut it.”

  “I know what I said, but we Irishmen tend to exaggerate. I won’t lie to you, Lindy. I want you. I also know you want me. But you already said it, you’ve made up your mind about us, and I’ve got enough self-control to keep my hands to myself. If it’s uncomfortable for either one of us, we’ll say so and come up with another solution tomorrow. What do you think?”

  She shoved the hair from her eyes and nodded gratefully. “Okay. It’s been such a long couple of days. For such a ritzy place, you’d think they’d have comfy furniture. This thing is like lying on sacks of flour, for crying out loud.”

  She rose to her feet and the blanket that had been draped over her fell to the floor. He groaned. In lieu of pajamas, she wore a pair of boy-cut Wonder Woman shorts that hugged her hips in a way that enticed him to follow suit. The serviceable, nude camisole top shouldn’t have been alluring, except the material had enough give that her unbound breasts jiggled enticingly when she shuffled toward him. He crossed the room to the closet and pulled down the extra pillows. Without fanfare, he tossed them to the center of the bed.

  “Make your wall of feathers, and let’s get some sleep.”

  She stripped back the covers and set the pillows in a line down the center of the huge bed, then stepped back with a nod of satisfaction. “Nate and Mal used to do this at summer camp back when they were young.” Her eyes lit up at the memory. “It was definitely effective, because neither one of them ever had to get treated for cooties.”

  He grinned. “That’s reassuring. The last thing I need is another stubborn case of cooties.”

  She laughed and plucked up the blankets, motioning for him to pick up the other half. They set the bedding right and he was struck by the pleasure he took in the homey task. He hadn’t made his own bed in ten years, but he couldn’t imagine he’d been smiling when he’d last done it. It was Lindy. Uncomplicated, low drama, no frills, fun-to-be-around Lindy.

  They climbed into the bed, and Lindy sighed with pleasure. “That is sooo much better,” she said.

  “I’m glad.” Silence stretched between them and he reached over to turn off the light. “I set the alarm for seven so we could compare notes before breakfast, all right?”

  “Fine with me. I’m an early riser anyway.”

  He smothered a semi-bitter laugh at that. He had set the phone in his pocket to vibrate at ten of seven in hopes of getting up and into the bathroom before she awoke and got an eyeful of the part of him that rose the earliest. He wasn’t complaining though. She was a trooper, and he couldn’t have asked for a better partner in crime. Having her happy and well-rested was a priority.

  She shifted restlessly under the blankets, hunkering down and getting comfortable. In an attempt to think about something other than the supple leg that had poked out and hooked around the comforter, he tried to run through everything he’d learned today. So Nico had said he was married before, which, unless Gavin had missed something, was a lie. Was that important somehow or did he do it to lend credibility to his business—

  “These pillows are so soft.” Lindy’s purr drew him like a magnet to metal. Now her scrumptious ass was wiggling and propped up outside the comforter too. Eight inches away and he was erecting a bridge that could close the gap…

  Nico. Marriage. Think.

  Thank God she finally settled and stuck out a toned arm to click off the light. “’Night.”

  “Good night.”

  He stared sightlessly at the ceiling, finding himself strangely torn. If they couldn’t enjoy each other physically, part of him wished he were less attracted to her so they could be friends after this was all over. After only eight days of knowing her, the idea of never seeing her again didn’t sit right. It didn’t sit right at all.

  Sleep was a long time coming.

  …

  From his vantage point in the trees, he could just make out her profile in the moonlight. The palms swayed in the balmy breeze, as if in time to the music that poured from a nearby balcony. She moved closer to the water, and closer still, until the lapping waves roiled around her ankles in a bubbling froth. She lifted her hand to the string behind her neck that held up her dress, and a moment later it fell, catching on the tips of her naked breasts for a breathless moment before draping around her hips. She moved to strip it off, but he stepped forward, his conscience prickling.

  “Don’t.” The word was torn from his throat because in reality, there was nothing he wanted more than for her to continue. He ached at the thought of her stopping.

  She paused for a brief second before angling her body toward him, giving him an unobstructed view of her, naked to the waist. “Why don’t you come and help?”

  The realization that she’d known he was there from the start sent a surge of adrenaline pounding through his veins. He strode through the sand, never taking his eyes off her. A dozen yards away…feet…inches, and then he was on her, crushing her torso to his, her hard nipples prodding his chest, branding him. His blood felt thick, like molasses, flowing to his cock, now fully rigid against his belly. He speared a hand through her short hair, reveling in her gasp. “Tell me you want this,” he groaned.

  “I want this,” she whispered, her eyes snapping with blue flames. “I want this so badly.”

  He bent to capture her mouth, nipping at her succulent bottom lip before stroking with his tongue. She moaned and burrowed closer, wrapping her arms around his neck. Gripping the cotton bunched at her waist, he drew it lower, past the curve of her hips, down her thighs until the hungry waves devoured it. He pulled away, desperate to see what he’d uncovered. Dusky nipples stood at attention like ripe berries waiting for his mouth. He fought the urge to take one between his teeth, instead letting his gaze travel lower, over the flat expanse of stomach, the navel that begged for his tongue. Inexorably down, to the place where her thighs met.

  He lifted his head and caught her gaze, letting her see how she tore him apart, letting her witness the depth of his need. With a curse, he swooped down, capturing one nipple, laving it with his tongue. She arched her back on a muffled groan, her nails scoring his shoulders in a mindless caress.

  “Owen, please.”

  The scent of pears assaulted him, and he breathed in deeply. She was so present, so real. The fantasies plaguing him since he first met her had never been so all-consuming and he welcomed this new torture as much as he cursed it. She surrounded him in every way, her legs winding around his thigh, her restless hips pulsing against his distended length. Her hand slipped between them, cupping him through his pants, fingers wrapping around him, squeezing in a sublime caress.

  “Fuck, Lindy, don’t stop.” His whole body stiffened at her touch, the desire to come a grinding need. He wouldn’t go without her, not even in his dreams. He reached down to cup her. Liquid fire. So damn hot. Dimly, he realized there was a thin, cloth barrier between them. Hadn’t she been naked?

  She grasped his hand and shoved it inside her panties with an impatient cry and his thoughts blew away on the ocean breeze. It was then, with her wet, clutching heat drenching his fingers that his eyes flew opened and his heart leapt from his chest.

  Not a dream. Lindy had changed her mind.

  Chapter Thirteen

  She didn’t want to wake up, but something was luring her to the surface of consciousness. “I’m so close,” she said, her body hovering on the knife’s edge of a mind-blowing orgasm.

&
nbsp; “Shh, I know. Let me get you there, love.”

  She froze as the voice, brogue and all, sounded in her ear. Owen was there, in the flesh. His mouth was right next her. Then she realized where her hand was. “Oh my God!” She snatched it away as if he were hosting a nest of vipers in his lap. Hysterical laughter bubbled from her lips. Maybe not a nest of vipers, but there had been one big one, for sure.

  “I-I—” She couldn’t get a single, rational word out. She rolled away from him, only to butt up against the traitorous row of pillows. A potent cocktail of desire, panic, and sheer mortification had her semi-incapacitated, and she struggled for coherent thought.

  “I’m sorry. I thought you were awake.” His voice was raw with sleep and sex, his breathing still harsh. She felt a pull of need low in her stomach.

  “Don’t apologize. It was my fault.” She tugged down her camisole and righted her shorts with a wince. They were damp, clinging to her unfulfilled, swollen flesh, and she wanted nothing more than to rip them off and climb aboard the O-train.

  No!

  That was a one-way ticket to Heartbreak. She had to stay clear-headed and get out of this situation before she did something she’d regret. With a mighty roll she was able to scale Mount Pillows and get to the other side. The distance and the barrier gave her some comfort. She took a steadying breath.

  “I don’t know what happened. I thought it was a dream, and I’m sorry for that.”

  He readjusted himself on the bed, and the sheets rustled, but it was a long while before he spoke. “I’m trying my hardest to think with my big head right now, but even then, it’s a no brainer. I’m dreaming about you while you’re dreaming about me. We’re healthy, mature, unattached adults. Remind me again why we’re not doing this thing. I promise you, I can make that ache go away.”

  It took everything she had not to dive over that faux-wall and take him up on that offer, but the tiniest kernel of self-preservation that hadn’t melted under glow of his sheer hotness reared its little head.

  “D-don’t. I didn’t mean to—” she swallowed past the sudden lump in her throat, “—be a tease. But I’m awake and aware now, and I can’t do this. You’re not looking for a relationship.” She hated the note of desperation that had wormed its way into her voice, but she pressed on, because she was desperate. Desperate to save herself from certain misery. If she was going to do that, she needed to get away fast. With a man like Owen, who seemed to tuck his emotions into a deep freezer, there was one surefire way to get him to let her go without a fight.

  “I want a guy who’s going to stick. I want lots and lots of babies with him. And, yes, I want his face to light the hell up when I walk into a room. If you already know you could never be that guy, then stop. Stop the dancing and the dipping and the looks. Please…stop. I’m not sure I’ll have the strength to keep saying no if you don’t.”

  She bolted to her feet, before the last shred of discipline deserted her, and scooped up one of the pillows. In some small, secret part of her heart, she hoped maybe he would stop her…would tell her he could be that guy. But as she crossed the room in deafening silence, that hope died.

  She wiped the tears from her cheek with the back of her hand and stepped through the door, closing it behind her with a resounding snick. There was nothing to cry about. She had saved herself a world of pain by walking away, that much she was sure of.

  So why did it still hurt so freaking bad?

  …

  “You guys are up next,” the ski instructor said, pointing to the small, empty chairs rounding the hairpin turn at the other end of the lift.

  Owen glanced down at Lindy, whose eyes had been closed for the last minute or so. “You sure you want to do this? It’s fine if you don’t. We can do cross-country.”

  She gave her head a vigorous shake, and he resisted the urge to tweak her little red nose. Odd that she’d never gone skiing before because the gear suited her perfectly, and she seemed very comfortable wearing it. The slouchy cap with the fuzzy cherry-colored puffball at the end had been her pert addition to the sleek, black ski pants and jacket he’d gotten for her that morning at the shop. He had to admit, it was a nice touch. If she’d gone whizzing past him on a black diamond trail, she would’ve looked right at home. Aside from the whole staying upright aspect of the sport. From what he’d witnessed of her lessons before he’d taken a few quick jaunts down the mountain, she’d spent a lot of the time on her back. Not that he minded her prone…

  It had been five days since what he’d mentally dubbed “The Incident” had occurred, and if he’d thought the fantasies were bad before, he’d thought wrong. She’d gone back to sleeping on the couch that very night, but imagining the two of them together had become a ritual. She wised up some and managed to avoid a lot of close contact, passing over ballroom dancing with him for team-building workshops designed to teach them about working together, where they decorated a dummy room of a house, trying to make it reflect both of their styles. He knew she had no more interest in that class that than he did in the poetry writing class, but it was a whole lot safer for them both. As much as it irked him, she was right about one thing. He would never be the guy who lit up over a woman and that was exactly the way he intended to keep it.

  “This is the bunny slope, right?”

  The flush that covered her face didn’t extend to her lips and he realized she was actually terrified. “Lindy, seriously, there’s no need to do this if you don’t want to. We can hang ’round in the pub at the bottom of the mountain and wait for the others to come down. We’re not missing out on anything important. Skiing is skiing. No one’s talking. The pub is the perfect place to be. That’s where the mouths start flapping. Let’s go. We can have some snacks and coffee while we wait.” He cupped her elbow and tried to lead her away from the lift, but she jerked her arm away.

  “Nope. I’m not going.”

  He recognized the mulish tilt of her chin and sighed. She was skiing, and that was that. Her determination might have been annoying if it wasn’t so damned admirable.

  “All right, then. We’ll take it nice and slow.”

  The chair slowed, coming up behind them. He took her hand and pulled her into position. “When it hits the back of your knees, sit,” he said.

  Her brisk nod sent the puffball flapping. A moment later, he squeezed her hand and she did exactly what he told her. They were scooped up and began the slow ascent. She let out an exultant whoop. “I did it! And it was kind of easy.”

  “Right. It’s low now, but don’t look down, all right?”

  The second he said it, she leaned forward and peered down at the snow-covered ground moving farther and farther away from them. She sat back fast, which sent the chair swaying. Her eyes went wide, and she gripped his hand. “Everything’s fine,” she muttered softly.

  “Everything is fine,” he assured her. “Try to sit still and it will feel a lot more stable, okay?”

  Her nod this time was nothing more than a slight incline of her head. She was taking him at his word.

  “Are we almost there?”

  “Almost.” He patted her hand and tried to think of something to take her mind off the ride. They were away from prying eyes and ears. Perfect time to talk shop.

  “How was yoga this morning? Nico getting frisky yet or what?” He kept his tone light, but every time he thought of the bastard with his hands on her it made him want to break stuff…namely Nico’s fingers.

  “N-no. He, uh, has been pretty good with boundaries.” Her tense face relaxed a little, and she released the death grip she had on his hand to mull his question over. “One thing that I’ve noticed, though, if I say anything about you at all that could be construed as negative, it’s like he tries to fan the flames. Even this morning, he asked if we had children and I said no, that you wanted to wait to have kids. He gave me this intense look and said ‘And what do you want, Lindy?’ Like he wants to stir up trouble.”

  Another surge of anger coursed through him, t
his one even less rational. She wasn’t his actual wife. Why should he possibly care that Nico was trying to sour their non-existent relationship? It was probably less about what the manipulations were and who he was exercising them on than the fact he was doing it at all. After what he’d done to Cara, the man needed to be stopped.

  It only made sense that the embers of anger had flourished into flames of rage since they’d arrived. They were nothing more than the result of having to face the man who hurt his sister every day and having to watch him try to do it to someone else. It had nothing to do with Lindy.

  “You think that’s it?” she asked, interrupting his thoughts. “He drives a wedge between us so he can put the moves on me later. Maybe offer me a great investment opportunity with the promise that, once he’s settled, he’ll send for me, or some nonsense? I don’t know, but these sly little digs are definitely a part of this somehow. Now that I’ve worked it through out loud, I’m convinced. I’m going to amp it up and really start complaining about you a lot. See if that shakes anything loose.”

  He didn’t doubt that her instincts were right. He made a mental note to see if any of the other wives were getting any one on one time with Nico. Which reminded him, he had to check his email to see if Gavin had gotten back to him with the checks on that list of names yet.

  “Have the Cedarhursts mentioned anything else about meeting Cara again?” Although Calvin had made a couple of remarks to him regarding her looks and had asked if she would be coming to visit the retreat anytime, once Owen had added mental disorders to her faux-addiction, he’d ceased and desisted.

  “Nope, not a word. I don’t think it was as significant to them as it was to us.”

  “Speaking of which, remind me to call her with an update when we get back. She’s getting restless, and I think your sense about Nico will give her something to chew on for a few days.”

  As they reached the top of the mountain, he turned to her. “Ready?”

  She looked up with a start. “Wow, that was fast. I didn’t even realize…” She turned her grateful gaze on him. “Thanks. You’re really good at that.”

  “I aim to please.”

  The ever-present electricity that lay right beneath the surface arced between them and the warm, comfortable moment sizzled away. That had been happening more and more since The Incident, and although he tried his best, they were hard to ignore. But her words—that fearful, desperate tone—stuck with him. If you already know you could never be that man, then stop.

  So he’d stopped. And he’d been stopping before it started again ever since.

  “Get your pole ready at your side. Lean forward a bit, and when your skis touch the ground, bend your knees a little. Don’t let the tips cross.”

  She nodded, her brow wrinkled in concentration. A moment later, they were off the lift, down the tiny incline, and at the top of the bunny slope looking down. Lindy was still standing and positively beaming with pride. She was so bloody cute, he couldn’t help but beam back.

  “Great start. Now here’s what we’re going to do this first trip down. We’ll take it nice and slow. Make wide zigzag patterns, and any time you want to stop, point your tips toward each…”

  He didn’t get to finish. Lindy had stopped listening and was shielding her eyes as she peered down the hill. Before he caught sight of whatever had captured her attention, she had shoved off and was heading down the slope in a tuck position, gaining speed with every yard.

  Bollocks.

  “Slow down!” he called after her, mimicking her stance, hoping his faster skis would give him ample time to catch up and—do what? What could he possibly do? She was tearing ass down the side of the mountain, her beginner skis practically screaming all the way. Short of tackling her, there was no way for him to stop her descent. The best he could do was to get close enough to talk to her and guide her into slowing down before they hit the bottom. He visualized the landscape at the end of the hill, and dread clenched at his stomach. After the lift and the booth, there was maybe ten yards of flat land, then a wall of pine trees. If she couldn’t manage to stop before then…

  He deepened the bend in his knees and pressed his elbows close to his side. Focusing on the red pom-pom flapping behind her like a beacon, he willed himself to go faster. Fifteen meters became ten, ten became five. Soon he could almost touch her. Almost.

  “Lindy, I’m right behind you. It’s okay, but you’ve gotta listen to me.” She didn’t even look his way. Hell, even he wasn’t sure any noise had come from his lips as his words were sucked away by his velocity and the mountain winds.

  He veered right to flank her. “Lindy!” He shouted with all his might, and this time she looked up, her eyes wild and terrified.

  “Stand up more. Try to move to the left, then back again. It’ll slow you down.”

  She’d straightened her legs some, but one of her poles flew out of her hand and she started to wobble. He spared a glance at the bottom of the hill that was fast approaching. They were out of time.

  Before he could make another move, it happened. Her arms pinwheeled, and he watched in horror. She hit the deck, arms and legs splayed at seemingly unnatural angles. One of her skis flew off and came at him like a projectile missile. He managed to dodge it as the other flew off in the opposite direction. Time slowed to a crawl. She tumbled over and over before finally skidding to a halt a few meters from the tree line. Heart in his throat, he whooshed to a stop, kicking snow out in front of him. He tossed his poles aside and snapped off his skis.

  “Lindy, God. Please say something.” He approached, fear ramping up to abject terror.

  She wasn’t moving.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Frantic shouts penetrated the strident ringing in her ears, and she lifted her head. Owen was standing over her, saying her name over and over. A moment later, he was joined by the girl from the lift booth and a crowd had started to gather.

  “Dear God, Belinda, are you all right?” a male voice murmured. Nico.

  When they had gotten off the lift and started toward the slope, she could’ve sworn it was him halfway down the hill with his arms wrapped around Jordan the Warden like a lover, but she couldn’t be certain. In her haste to get closer, she’d lost her balance, and that’s when the shit hit the fan.

  Now the two of them stood over her, concern etched on their faces. “Say something, Lindy. You’re scaring me,” Jordan said, dropping to her knees beside