HER SECRET HUSBAND

by Andrea Laurence

  They settled in, placing their drink orders and coming to an agreement on the assortment of sushi pieces they’d like to share. Once that was done, there was nothing to do but face why they were here.

  “You’re probably wondering what this is about,” Heath said after sipping his premium sake.

  “You mean you’re not just hungry?” Julianne retorted, knowing full well that he had bigger motivations than food on his mind.

  “We needed to talk about last night. I thought getting away from home and all those people,” he said with emphasis, “that you worry about seeing us together might help.”

  Julianne sighed. He’d taken it personally last night when she asked to keep their encounter a secret. She could tell by the downturn of his lips when he said “those people.” He didn’t understand. “Heath, I’m not—”

  He held up his hand. “It’s fine, Jules. You don’t want anyone seeing us together. I get it. Nothing has changed since we were eighteen. I should just be happy we finally slept together. Unfortunately, finding you gone when I woke up put a sour taste in my mouth.”

  “And going downstairs to find you’d signed the divorce papers left a bitter taste in mine.”

  Heath’s eyes narrowed at her for a moment before he relaxed back against the seat. “I signed those last night after you left me on the couch, alone and wanting you once again. I assure you that making love to you in the shower at three a.m. was not in my plan at the time.”

  Julianne shook her head. “It doesn’t matter, Heath. We both know it’s what we need to do. What we’ve needed to do for a very long time. I’m sorry to have drawn it out as long as I have. It wasn’t very considerate of me to put you through that. The papers are signed and mailed. It’s done. Now we can just relax. We don’t have to fight about it anymore. The pressure is off and we can focus on the farm and helping Dad recuperate.”

  He watched her speak, his gaze focused on her lips, but he didn’t seem to have the posture of relief she expected. He had started all this after all. He’d virtually bullied her into filing. Now he seemed displeased by it all.

  “So,” she asked, “are you upset with me because I did what you asked? Because I’m confused.”

  Heath sighed. “I’m not upset with you, Jules. You’re right, you did exactly as I asked. We filed. That’s what we needed to do. I guess I’m just not sure what last night was about. Or why you took off like a criminal come morning.”

  Julianne looked at him, searching his hazel eyes. Having a relationship with him was so complicated. She wanted him, but she couldn’t truly have him. Not when the truth about what had happened that night with Tommy still loomed between them. She didn’t want anyone else to have him, either, but she felt guilty about keeping him from happiness. Letting him go didn’t seem to make him happy. What the hell was she supposed to do?

  “We shouldn’t read too much into last night,” she said at last. “It was sex. Great sex that was long overdue. I don’t regret doing it, despite what you seem to think. I just didn’t feel like psychoanalyzing it this morning, especially with our divorce papers sitting beside my cup of coffee.”

  “So you thought the sex was great?” Heath smiled and arched his brow conspiratorially.

  “Is that all you got out of that?” Julianne sighed. “It was great, yes. But it doesn’t have to change everything and it doesn’t have to mean anything, either. We’re attracted to each other. We always have been. Anything more than that is where we run into a problem. So can’t it just be a fun outlet for years of pent-up attraction?”

  Heath eyed her for a moment, his brows drawn together in thought. “So you’re saying that last night wasn’t a big deal? I agree. Does that mean you’re wanting to continue this...uh...relationship?”

  When she woke up this morning, it didn’t seem like the right thing to do. It would complicate things further in her opinion. But here, in a dark restaurant with moody lighting and a handsome Heath sitting across from her, it wasn’t such a bad idea anymore. They were getting a divorce. The emotional heartstrings had been cut once and for all. If they both knew what they were getting into, why not have a little fun?

  “We’re both adults. We know that it’s just physical. The things that held me back in our youth would not be in play here. So, perhaps.”

  The waiter approached the table with two large platters of assorted sushi. Heath watched only Julianne as things were rearranged and placed in front of them. The heat of his gaze traveled like a warm caress along her throat to the curve of her breasts. She felt a blush rise to her cheeks and chest from his extensive inventory of her assets.

  When the waiter finally disappeared, Heath spoke. “You want us to have a fling?”

  That’s what she’d just suggested, hadn’t she? Maybe that was what they needed. A no-strings outlet for their sexual tension. Perhaps then, she could sate her desire for Heath without having to cross the personal boundaries that kept them apart. He never needed to know about the night with Tommy or what happened during their botched honeymoon. She could make it up to him in the weeks that followed.

  And why not? They were still married, weren’t they?

  Julianne smiled and reached for her chopsticks. She plucked a piece from the platter and put it into her mouth. Her eyes never left his even as she slipped her foot out of her shoe and snaked it beneath the table in search of his leg. His eyes widened as her toes found his ankle beneath the cuff of his suit pants. She slid them higher, caressing the tense muscles of his calves. By the time she reached his inner thigh, he was white-knuckling the table.

  She happily chewed, continuing to eat as though her foot had not just made contact with the firm heat of his desire beneath the table. “You’d better eat. I can’t finish all this sushi on my own,” she said, smiling innocently.

  “Jules,” he whispered, closing his eyes and absorbing the feeling as her toes glided along the length of him. “Jules!” he repeated, his eyes flying open. “Please,” he implored. “I get it. The answer is yes. Let’s either eat dinner or leave, but please put your shoe back on. It’s a long drive home in separate cars. Don’t torture me.”

  * * *

  The next few weeks went by easily. The uproar of the move and chaos of being thrown together after so long apart had finally dissipated. Dad was home and doing well under Nurse Lynn’s care. Jules had a fully operational workshop with her new kiln. She had three new gallery pieces in various stages of completion that were showing a lot of potential and nearly a full shelving unit of stoneware for her shop. During the day, she worked with Molly in the Christmas store preparing for the upcoming holiday rush. They made wreaths, stocked shelves and handled the paperwork the farm generated. In the evenings, she worked on her art.

  Heath had done much the same. During the day, he was out in the fields working with Owen. He’d sent out some feelers for teenagers to work part-time starting at Thanksgiving and had gotten a couple of promising responses. When the sun went down, he worked on his computer, trying to stay up-to-date with emails and other business issues. Things seemed to be going fine as best he could tell.

  Most nights, Julianne would slip into his bed. Some encounters were fevered and rushed, others were leisurely and stretched long into the early hours of the morning. He’d indulged his every fantasy where she was concerned, filling his cup with Julianne so he would have no regrets when all of this was over.

  He usually found himself alone come morning. Julianne told him she woke up with bad dreams nearly every night, although she wouldn’t elaborate. When she did wake up, she went downstairs to work. When she returned to bed, she went to her own room. It was awkward to fall asleep with her almost every night and wake up alone just as often.

  Despite the comfortable rhythm they’d developed, moments like that were enough to remind him that things were not as sublime as they seemed. He was not, at long last, in a relationship with Julianne. What they had was physical, with a strong barrier in place to keep her emotions in check. She was s
till holding back, the way she always had. Their discussions never strayed to their marriage, their past, or their future. She avoided casual, physical contact with him throughout the day. When nightfall came, they were simply reaping the benefits of their marriage while they could.

  Given Heath had spent eleven years trying to get this far, he couldn’t complain much. But it did bother him from time to time. When he woke up alone. When he wanted to kiss her, but Molly or Nurse Lynn were nearby and she would shy away. When he remembered the clock was ticking down on their divorce.

  At the same time, things at the bunkhouse had certainly been far more peaceful than he’d ever anticipated going into this scenario. It was one of those quiet evenings when his phone rang. He’d just gotten out of the shower after a long day of working outside and had settled in front of his laptop when the music of his phone caught his attention from the coffee table.

  Heath reached for his phone and frowned. It was Nolan’s number and picture on the screen of his smartphone. He was almost certain this wouldn’t be a social call. With a sigh, he hit the button to answer. “Hey.”

  “I’m sorry,” Nolan began, making Heath grit his teeth. “I had to call.”

  “What is it?” And why couldn’t Nolan handle it? He couldn’t voice the query aloud. Nolan was running the whole show to accommodate Heath’s family emergency, but Heath couldn’t help the irritation creeping up his spine. He had enough to worry about in Connecticut without New York’s troubles creeping in.

  “Madame Badeau called today. And yesterday. And last week. For some reason, she must think your assistant is lying about you being out of the office. She finally threw a fit and insisted to talk to me.”

  Heath groaned aloud. Thank goodness only Nolan and his assistant had his personal number. The older French woman refused to use email, so if she had his personal number, she’d call whenever she felt the urge, time difference be damned. “What does she want?”

  Nolan chuckled softly on the line. “Aside from you?”

  “Most especially,” Heath responded..

  “She wants you in Paris this weekend.”

  “What?” It was Wednesday. Was she insane? He held her advertising account; he wasn’t hers to summon at her whim. “Why?”

  “She’s unhappy with the European campaign we put together. You and I both know she approved it and seemed happy when we first presented it, but she’s had a change of heart. It’s a last-minute modification and she wants you there to personally oversee it. She wants the commercial reshot, the print ads redone—everything.”

  That wasn’t a weekend task. Heath smelled a rat. Surely she wasn’t just using this as an excuse to lure him to Paris. He’d told her he was married. She seemed to understand. “Why can’t Mickey handle this?” Mickey was their art director. He was the one who usually handled the shoots. Redoing the J’Adore campaign fell solidly into Mickey’s bucket.

  “She didn’t like his vision. She wants you there and no one else. I was worried about this. I’m sorry, but there’s no dissuading her. I told her about your leave of absence for a family emergency, but it didn’t make any difference to her. All she said was that she’d send her private jet to expedite the trip and get you back home as quickly as possible. A long weekend at the most, she insisted.”

  As much as Heath would like to take that private jet and tell Cecilia what she could do with it, they needed her account. It was hugely profitable for them. If she pulled out after they had spent the last two years making J’Adore the most sought-after cosmetic line in the market, it would be catastrophic. Not only would they lose her account, but others would also wonder why she left and might consider jumping ship. It was too high-profile to ruin. That meant Heath was going to Paris. Just perfect.

  “So when is the plane arriving to pick me up?”

  “Thursday afternoon in Hartford. Wheels up at four.”

  “I guess I’ll pack my bags. I didn’t really bring a lot of my suits to work on the farm. Thankfully it’s only for a few days.”

  “You need to pack Julianne’s bags, too.”

  “What?” he yelled into the phone. “How the hell did she get involved in this discussion?”

  “Just relax,” Nolan insisted, totally unfazed by Heath’s tone. “When I was trying to talk her out of summoning you, I told her that your father-in-law had a heart attack and you and Julianne had gone to the farm. I thought reminding her about your wife and the serious situation you were dealing with would cool her off a little. I lost my mind and thought she would be a reasonable person. Instead, she insisted you bring Julianne to Paris as well.”

  “Why would I want to bring her with me?”

  “Why wouldn’t you want to bring your sweet, beloved wife with you to Paris? It’s romantic,” Nolan said, “and it would be suspicious if you didn’t want to bring her. Between you and me, I think Madame Badeau wants to see her competition in the flesh. What can it hurt? Maybe she’ll back off for good once she sees Julianne and realizes she’s not just a made-up relationship to keep her at arm’s length.”

  Heath groaned again. He’d never met a woman this aggressive. Had his mother not died when he was a child, she would be a year younger than Cecilia. It didn’t make a difference to her. She was a wealthy, powerful woman who was used to getting what she wanted, including a steady stream of young lovers. Heath was just a shiny toy she wanted because she couldn’t have him.

  “Do you really think it will help to take her?”

  “I do. And look at the bright side. You’ll get a nice weekend in Paris. You’ll be flying on a fancy private jet and staying in a fabulous hotel along the Seine. It’s not the biggest imposition in the world. You’re probably tired of staring at pine trees by now. It’s been almost a month since you went up there.”

  Heath was tired of the trees. Well, that wasn’t entirely correct. He was tired of being cooped up here, pacing around like a caged tiger. If it weren’t for the nights with Julianne to help him blow off steam, he might’ve gone stir-crazy by now. Perhaps a weekend away would give him the boost he needed to make it through the holidays. It was early November, so better now than in the middle of the holiday rush.

  “Okay,” he agreed. “You can let her know we’ll be there.”

  “Thanks for taking one for the team,” Nolan quipped.

  “Yeah,” Heath chuckled, ending the call.

  Paris. He was going to Paris. With Julianne. Tomorrow. Even after the happy truce they’d come to, going to Paris together felt like returning to the scene of the crime, somehow. That’s where he’d told her he loved her and kissed her for the first time since they were nine years old. They’d left Paris for Spain, and then took a detour to Gibraltar to elope.

  With a heavy sigh, Heath got up from the kitchen table and tapped gently at the door to Julianne’s studio. Now he had to convince her to go with him. And not just to go, but to go and act like the happy wife in public, one of the barriers they hadn’t breached. To fool Madame Badeau, they had to be convincing, authentic. That meant his skittish bride would have to tolerate French levels of public affection. It might not even be possible.

  The room was silent. She wasn’t using her pottery wheel, but he knew she was in there.

  “Come in.”

  Heath twisted the knob and pushed his way into her work space. Julianne was hovering over a sculpture on her table. This was an art piece for her gallery show, he was pretty certain. It was no simple vase, but an intricately detailed figure of a woman dancing.

  Julianne’s hair was pulled back into a knot. She was wearing a pair of jeans and a fitted T-shirt. There was clay smeared on her shirt, her pants, her face, her arms—she got into her work. It reminded him of that first night they’d spent together, sending a poorly timed surge of desire through him.

  “I have a proposition for you, Jules.”

  At that, Julianne frowned and set down her sculpting tool. “That sound ominous,” she noted.

  “It depends on how you look at i
t. I need to take a trip for work. And it’s a long story, but I need you to come with me. Do you have a current passport?”

  Julianne’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Yes. I renewed last year, although I haven’t gone anywhere. Where on earth do you have to go for work?”

  “We’re going to Paris this weekend.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Heath held up his hands defensively. “I know. I don’t have a choice. It’s an important account and the client will only work with me. She’s a little temperamental. I know it sounds strange, and I hate to impose, but I have to take you to Paris with me. For, uh...public companionship.”

  A smile curled Julianne’s lips. “I take it the French lady has the hots for you?”

  He shook his head in dismay. “Yes, she does. I had to tell her I was married so she’d back off.”

  “She knows we’re married?” Julianne stiffened slightly.

  “I had to tell her something. Rebuffing her without good reason might’ve cost us a critical account. I had to tell my business partner, too, so he was on the same page.”

  Julianne nodded slowly, processing the information. She obviously didn’t care for anyone outside of the two of them and their lawyers knowing about this. It was one thing for family to find out, but who cared if a woman halfway across the globe knew?

  “She’s insisting I come to Paris to correct some things she’s unhappy with and to bring you with me on the trip. I think she wants to meet you, more than anything. It would look suspicious if I didn’t bring you. We’re supposed to be happily married.”

  “What does that mean when we get there?”

  Heath swallowed hard. They’d gotten to the sticking point. “Exactly what you think it means. We have to publically act like a married couple. We need to wear our rings, be affectionate and do everything we can to convince my client of our rock-solid romance.”