by Wood, Joss
‘It’s still simple,’ Callie argued. ‘We’re going on holiday together, I’m going to pretend to be your wife, and we’re going to end up in bed sooner or later. And, judging by that craziness, probably sooner.’
‘I’m old enough to know that explosive sex has a way of making stuff extraordinarily complicated.’
‘We’re also old enough to work our way around that,’ she said.
Finn frowned at her as he stared at her profile. ‘Whoah … Let me get this straight. Are you saying that you are happy to have sex? You said you wanted to take it day by day.’
Callie blushed and threw her hands up in the air. ‘I don’t know what to think! I’m still in orgasm land! And I’m still wrapping my head around the fact that we did that, in a semi-public place, at noon, in a busy shop where I know the sales ladies.’
She buried her face in her hands.
‘I’m never going to be able to go back in there. They knew, Finn!’ Callie pushed her fingers into her hair as she lifted her head. ‘We didn’t give where we were and what we were doing a moment’s thought, Finn. Hell, we didn’t think at all!’
We didn’t think at all … Her words made him push back into the seat, his breath hitching. That was it—exactly it. The biggest problem he had around this woman was that he didn’t think. He just had to put his hands on that warm skin, had to kiss that luscious mouth, and his freaking brain switched off.
And he needed to think—needed time not only to work through the runaway fire that was currently his life but also why she had the ability to short circuit his thought processes. He needed to think about how he was going to handle this craziness between them so that neither of them ended up scalded.
Callie stared out of the window. ‘Would you prefer that I didn’t come with you?
‘No! Where the hell did that come from?’ Finn shot back, panicked at the thought of her backing out. And not only because he needed a ‘wife’ so he could do his job.
Finn let out a long stream of air. Dammit, it was his turn to be sensible, to take a step back from the situation and use his brain. His big brain.
He needed some distance from her; his body needed to get closer but he needed space to think.
‘Maybe we should just get through the next couple of days, get on the road and, as you said, see what happens—okay?’
Since Callie looked relieved at this reprieve, he knew that it was the right decision, that he was on the right track.
‘Okay.’
Callie nodded, but her next words surprised the hell out of him. Whatever else he’d expected her to say it wasn’t this:
‘And still no hearts and flowers at the end?’
Finn nodded his agreement. ‘Definitely not.’ He gestured to her brother, whose look had now passed pissed off and was on its way to furious. ‘You’d better go—he’s been waiting long enough.’
Callie wrinkled her nose. ‘Yeah.’ She opened the door and swung her legs out of the car. ‘Hey, Seb.’
‘Callie. Is that who you’re running away with? Want to introduce us?’
Finn heard the whipped out words before Callie slammed the door behind her. Hitting the button to take down his electric window, he made a production of putting his seat belt on before starting the car.
‘No, I am not going to introduce you. Why are you here?’
‘We need to talk about Laura and why you’re running off with some stranger to avoid seeing her,’ the brother stated as Callie brushed past him to her front door.
Finn, not able to delay his departure any longer without being caught out, reversed and sent a last look at her.
Who was Laura and why was Callie running from her? And why was he so curious to find out all he could about her? And why did he hate the stricken look he’d seen on her face when her brother had mentioned Laura’s name?
It was the journalist in him, he told himself as he accelerated away. It was his job to be curious—about people as well as places.
And apparently, he thought as he turned the corner, his job now also included deception and lying to himself as well.
Crazy.
In her lounge, Callie tossed her bag onto the couch and faced her brother, hands on her hips. ‘I don’t appreciate you rocking up on my doorstep unannounced and looking for a fight.’
Seb, tall and strong and looking as frustrated as she felt, pushed his fists into the pockets of his jeans. ‘When my sister storms out of her house—’
‘Your house.’
Seb glared at her interruption. ‘Her house and refuses to take my calls for three days I am allowed to rock up here and have it out with you. We’re all worried about you.’
‘So I hear,’ Callie retorted. ‘Apparently my life is now too good and I am too independent. I remember a time when you thought the exact opposite. There’s just no pleasing you, is there, big bro?’
‘That happened a long time ago and it has no bearing on this situation. Look, Ro and I—’
Ro and I. It had used to be Callie and Ro. They’d used to be a team—best friends. Had Seb driven a wedge between her and her best friend? Had he surpassed her in importance? It was natural if he had, but Rowan had always been her rock, her sounding board, her port in a storm. Now she was Seb’s.
Callie had never felt so alone in her life. Oh, wait, maybe she had. For the first couple of months after Laura had left. First couple of months, years, most of her life …
You’re being silly and sentimental and emotional, Callie thought as she walked over to the doors to the veranda and yanked them open, looking for some air. It had been a crazy couple of days—culminating with a very hot, very sexy, very confusing encounter in that dressing room—and she was exhausted and played out. Ro was still Ro, and she still loved her, but it just didn’t feel as if anyone was standing in her corner right now.
But that was okay. It was time to pull on her big girl panties and kick some ass. And her brother was a great target.
Callie leaned against the frame of the now open door and turned back to him. ‘Look, Seb, I absolutely understand and respect your right to talk to your mother, and I’d appreciate it if you’d respect my right not to.’
‘She’s your mother too. Don’t you at least want to know why she left?’ Seb demanded.
So like Seb, Callie thought. Analytical and clear-thinking. If he understood the cause he could make sense of the problem. For her it was a lot more simple—cut and dried.
‘She left you and me—bottom line. I don’t care what her reason was. She left. When you have kids you put them first, not yourself.’
‘In one of her letters she said that her life was overwhelming—that was why she retreated to her room, why she eventually left.’
Callie threw her hands up in the air in exasperation at his explanation. ‘Overwhelming? God, Seb, she was a stay-at-home mother with a housekeeper and a rich husband who spoilt her rotten. That’s a stupid excuse. There are millions of women all over the world who have a lot less, who live in terrible circumstances, and who don’t walk out on their kids.’
Seb shrugged. ‘I don’t disagree with you, but I still think that I need to meet with her—that you need to meet with her. To hear her side and to find closure, if nothing else.’
‘I don’t need closure. I’m perfectly fine,’ Callie said stubbornly.
‘All your issues are rooted in Laura leaving,’ Seb stated, still pushing.
Callie ground her teeth together, trying to keep a hold on her bubbling temper. ‘I do not have issues!’
Seb snorted. ‘Honey, you delude yourself. You’re crazy independent because you refuse to rely on anyone in case they let you down. You’re consistently single because you don’t trust anyone to be there long-term.’
From the couch Callie heard the strident ring tone of her mobile and she walked over to answer the call, grateful for the interruption and the opportunity to get hold of her temper before she slapped her brother.
She saw Rowan’s name on the display
and barked a tense greeting.
‘My fiancé there?’ Rowan asked, after saying hello.
Callie answered in the affirmative and Rowan ordered her to put her on speaker phone. Callie shrugged, did what she said and held up the mobile in her hand.
‘Seb!’ Rowan’s voice sounded frustrated. ‘What did I say to you?’
Seb grimaced. ‘I know, but—’
‘Leave your sister alone. If she doesn’t want to meet Laura, then it’s her decision—not yours.’
‘But—’
Rowan didn’t give him a chance to explain. ‘We spoke about this. We agreed that you would leave her alone! God!’
‘But—’
‘Respect her right to make her own decisions, Hollis.’
After that bombshell Rowan told Callie to take her off speaker phone, and Callie lifted her phone to her ear, watching as her brother threw his hands up in the air.
‘As per usual, you two have ganged up on me. I’m out of here,’ Seb stated, before turning and heading for the front door.
‘He’s left and he’s not happy,’ Callie told Rowan, not feeling quite so alone as before.
Callie could imagine Rowan’s shrug. ‘So? I might love him to distraction, but he’s still messing with my best friend and nobody—not even him—does that. I’m the only one with that privilege.’
Callie felt tears prick her eyes. ‘I love you, you know.’
‘I love you too, kiddo.’ Rowan sighed. ‘I just need to ask you one question.’
‘Okay.’
‘Do you know what you’re doing, Cal?’
Callie sank into the corner of the couch and tipped her head back. ‘I don’t have the foggiest idea. Can you come over? I need you.’
‘On my way.’
Maybe, Callie thought as she placed her mobile on the couch next to her, she wasn’t quite as alone as she’d thought.
Callie, her bags in a pile next to the door, pulled open the front door and sucked in her breath as she caught sight of her fake husband. Finn was dressed for travelling in a pair of lightweight grey linen shorts and a black and white checked shirt over a snow-white T-shirt that skimmed his broad chest. His arms were muscled and tanned, and the only jewellery he wore was a high-tech watch that could probably launch spaceships.
His eyes widened when he saw her. ‘You look fantastic, fake wife.’
Callie grinned at him. ‘Thank you.’
Callie knew that she looked good in the pink-orchid-coloured swing dress with its copper leather belt and drawstring neck. She’d kept her accessories and make-up minimal, and she wore flat, gold sequinned sandals. She knew she looked the part of a stylish woman about to embark on her honeymoon.
Did she have everything for her bogus honeymoon? Clothes—check. Passport—check. Accessories and toiletries—check. Jewellery, simple, classy, to go with all her outfits—check.
Except for one glaringly obvious exception … Hell, she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring!
Finn caught her expression and frowned. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Your fake wife needs a fake ring,’ she said, lifting her arm and wiggling the fingers of her left hand.
Finn twisted his lips as he stepped into her hallway and wound his way around her bags. ‘I didn’t even think of that.’ He looked at his watch and sighed his annoyance. ‘Liz still has the engagement ring I bought her.’
Callie’s mouth dropped open. ‘I am not wearing your ex’s ring!’
A shallow dimple appeared in Finn’s cheek. ‘You’re pretty picky for a wife who isn’t actually my wife!’
Callie lifted her nose. ‘I still have standards—fake or not.’
Finn sighed. ‘I suppose we could pick up something at the airport.’
Callie lifted her eyebrows. The only jewellery stores at the airport were high-end and very expensive, and she couldn’t justify him splurging for a ring that she’d only wear for three weeks. She quickly did a mental stroll through her jewellery collection in the hope that she had something remotely engagement-ring-like. Then she remembered the large velvet jewellery box Seb had left with her just after he’d got engaged to Rowan.
‘It’s mostly Grandma’s jewellery, with a couple of pieces our mother left behind,’ he’d said. ‘You should have them.’
Callie hadn’t wanted to keep the box and she’d never bothered to look inside. It was still at the back of her lingerie drawer, where she’d shoved it a year or so ago.
She still didn’t want to open it, but this was an emergency.
‘How much time have we got before we have to leave?’ she asked Finn as she turned towards the stairs.
‘A half hour or so,’ Finn replied. ‘Why? Do you have some diamond rings stashed upstairs?’
‘Maybe,’ Callie replied, hearing Finn’s footsteps behind her. She turned, faced him, and for once they were eye to eye. ‘It might be better if you stay down here.’
‘Why?’
‘My room. It’s a bit messy.’ Catastrophic was a better word, Callie thought.
‘I’ve seen messy before,’ Finn told her.
‘Not like this, you haven’t,’ Callie assured him. Seeing the stubborn look on his face, she sighed and shrugged. ‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you.’
Dear God! Finn looked around the master bedroom, his mouth open wide enough to catch flies. Who had so many clothes and why were they scattered everywhere?
When he managed to find his voice, he croaked the words out. ‘Newsflash, Callie: clothes can be put back into cupboards as well as taken out.’
Callie stepped over a pile of shoes as she headed to her dresser. ‘No point,’ she said over her shoulder. ‘While I was trying to decide what to pack I realised that I have far too many clothes—’
‘Seriously? I would never have guessed that!’ Finn said from the doorway, thinking that if he went in he might not find his way out. Ever.
Callie ignored his interruption. ‘And I decided that I need to clean out my wardrobe. That pile is for Rowan, that pile is for the secondhand shop, and that pile is to be donated.’ She waved her hands around the room.
Finn leaned a shoulder into the doorframe and crossed his arms. ‘Damn …’ he muttered again.
Callie yanked open a drawer in her dresser and Finn’s mouth went dry as she tossed a pile of rainbow-coloured thongs and bras onto a chair. They were skimpy and frothy and ultra-feminine.
‘I get samples from the designers I do business with,’ Callie said, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he was mentally stripping her in an attempt to see what she wearing under that sexy, stylish dress.
It would probably be the same sexy deep pink, he decided. Callie was nothing if not colour co-ordinated.
‘I can’t remember when last I actually went to a store and bought clothes. That’s why I had so much fun shopping for you.’
With difficulty Finn raised his eyes to her face and tried to look as if he had heard her. But he was a guy—distract him with sexy lingerie and his brain headed south. With his blood. And his hearing.
‘Ah—got it.’
Finn watched as Callie pulled out a large jewellery box and, cradling it in both hands, walked back towards him. She skirted the bed and sat on the side closest to him, on top of a pile of jackets, putting the box down next to her. A wistful, sad, wary look passed across her face and he straightened, all thoughts of sex and lingerie gone. This box meant something to her, and he wasn’t sure if it was a good or bad something. Probably a mixture of both.
Then, very surprisingly, she stood up, picked up the box and thrust it towards him. Finn caught it as it hit his chest and she dropped it from her grasp.
‘Look in there and see if you can find something that I can wear. If there isn’t anything then I’m afraid you’re out of luck. I’ll be downstairs.’
Finn frowned as she slipped past him and ran down the stairs. Putting the box on the bedside table, he switched on the light and flipped the lid. His breath caught at the blink of gold inside. It wa
s a pirate’s treasure box, he thought, bubbling with thick gold chains and bracelets and the occasional flash of a precious stone in a pendant.
Lifting up a handful of chains, silver and gold, some with pendants and some without, he saw that there were smaller boxes below and dumped the chains on the bed. The first box held earrings—mostly old-fashioned, but there was a nice pair of diamond studs he could see Callie wearing. The next box held rings, and he pulled in his breath as he ran his fingers over the jewels.
Of the eight or so in the box there were at least four that would pass as engagement rings, and three had matching wedding bands. One ring fascinated him: it looked older than the others—a big diamond, with spikes of platinum radiating in another circle embedded with tiny diamonds. A thin band sat under the diamond and he presumed that was a wedding band.
Finn held it under the light and on the inside could just make out the date: June the sixth, 1909.
That’ll do, he thought, tucking it into the pocket of his pants.
He quickly replaced the boxes he’d taken out and dumped the tangle of chains back inside the larger box. Snapping the lid shut, he walked across to the near empty cupboard, found a shoebox and tossed the shoes inside on to the floor. Sliding the jewellery box into the shoebox, he used his height to stretch up and hide the box behind another pile of shoeboxes.
He wondered why he was bothering. If any thieves broke in and found themselves in Callie’s bedroom while she was away they’d think she’d been ransacked already and leave.
Finn tried to close the cupboard doors and wondered why Callie wouldn’t deal with the box herself. Why would a woman who obviously loved clothes—and, he presumed, accessories—ignore a box full of such amazing jewellery? Why couldn’t she even open it to look inside for a ring she needed?
Strange. But interesting. Curiosity, he reminded himself, and he didn’t need to indulge it. Not where Callie was concerned.
Finn rubbed the back of his neck, thinking that she couldn’t do the jewellery box and he couldn’t do his bedroom. Maybe they deserved each other.
Finn left the room and jogged down the stairs. He found Callie sitting on a chair in her hallway, legs crossed and her foot jiggling.