The Work Wife

by Allison B Hanson

  Game on.

  Drinks and laughter flowed freely during dinner. He knew Jamie was a lightweight when it came to drinking. She’d once gotten tipsy at a breakfast meeting after her second mimosa.

  He generally played the role of DD when going out with friends, but since they were staying at the hotel and no one was driving, he nodded to the waitress to bring a third beer.

  Jamie’s cheeks were flushed and she was laughing at anything remotely funny. Even Rob Blain’s poorly delivered jokes received a giggle. Wes couldn’t help but smile at her. She had already won over the McCaffertys with her charm. Next would be winning them over with her design ideas. But not tonight.

  By ten he noticed how tired she was.

  “Well, I think it’s time for Jamie and me to call it a night.”

  “It’s only ten,” Rob complained.

  “Let them go. They have better things to do,” Curt said while raising his brows and giving them a knowing nod.

  “Oh, right. Newlyweds.” Rob laughed and his wife playfully smacked him on the shoulder. “Maybe we should pretend we’re newlyweds too, Beth.”

  Weston turned before he had to watch Rob making out with his wife. Some things were better left unseen.

  “Thanks,” Jamie said when they got on the elevator. “I’ve been pretending to be tired for an hour now.”

  “You’re not tired?” She’d had him fooled.

  “Exhausted. But I wasn’t an hour ago.”

  “Maybe we need to work out hand signals or something,” he said as they got off the elevator.

  “I think real married people do that,” she said.

  “Huh. Well, it’s a good idea.” He slid the key card for the fourth time. Maybe he should have passed on that last beer. “Ah!” The green light came on and they were in.

  “I’m going to take a shower,” she announced louder than necessary. He chuckled as she closed the bathroom door.

  While she showered, he walked out on the balcony. A warm tropical breeze greeted him, blowing off the chill from the air-conditioned room. It reminded him that Jamie didn’t like sleeping in air-conditioning. She was cold in the middle of a Boston heat wave. He turned off the unit and opened the sliding door to let in the fresh air.

  He turned when the bathroom door opened, and there was Jamie, brown hair snaking down over her shoulders and nothing but a white fluffy towel wrapped around her body.

  If he’d thought the sundress pulled up to her thighs was sexy, he’d never imagined this vision before him.

  The towel was barely covering her and her brown eyes were wide.

  “I forgot to take clothes in with me,” she said, pointing to her suitcase with one hand while clutching the ends of the towel with the other.

  He said nothing. Did nothing. Just stood there watching.

  It took him longer than it should have to notice she was struggling with the zipper on her suitcase, one-handed. She’d bent down and the towel was about to reveal something he never knew he wanted to see.

  “A little help?” she said.

  “Of course. I’m sorry.” He rushed over to unzip the suitcase and took a step back.

  Or was it a step closer? Yes, it may have been closer.

  Chapter 14

  She wasn’t sure if he moved toward her or she toward him, but she and Wes were kissing.

  Heat—hotter than she’d felt from all their earlier, pretend kisses—seared through her veins as his arms wound around her waist, pulling her closer. She opened her mouth to deepen the kiss, and let out a satisfied moan when his tongue greeted hers.

  His hands moved up and down her body while all hers could do was cling to his shirt and hold on for dear life. She’d let go of the towel so both hands were free to explore his muscles. It stayed in place only because they were pressed together so closely.

  It was the most perfect moment, and she was about to suggest they move to one of the beds when he backed away with a start. Blinking at her in confusion, he tried to catch his breath.

  “What happened?” he asked, his voice rough.

  She frowned at his reaction, pulling the edges of the towel together before it fell. “We kissed a little.” She shrugged and pulled the towel closer. Her cheeks were hot.

  “A little?” His brows rose as he called her out on the understatement of the year.

  He wasn’t drunk. She wasn’t even drunk. But she used it as an excuse to get her out of this embarrassing situation. She needed some excuse, because the only reason that came to mind for kissing him was because he’d smelled good when he bent close to her to open her suitcase. That didn’t seem like a viable explanation.

  “I think we’ve both had too much to drink,” she reasoned.

  He opened his mouth as if to protest, but then shut it and nodded. “Are you done in the bathroom? I think I need a shower too.”

  She bit her lip to keep from smiling. No matter who had made the first move, he was affected. She took pleasure in this knowledge and nodded toward the bathroom. “I’m done. Go ahead.”

  She was asleep before he came out.

  * * * *

  When Jamie woke the next morning, her husband was sleeping in the other queen bed. It only took a second for the memories from the night before to fill in.

  God, they’d kissed. And not because anyone was looking. And not because they’d had too much to drink.

  It had been real. Real confusing.

  She got dressed and hurried out of the room to buy some extra time.

  The rest of the group was gathering in the lobby, ready to go to breakfast.

  “Did you wear him out?” Curt joked, earning a jab to the ribs from his wife.

  “He’ll be here shortly,” she said, though she really didn’t know. “Why don’t we go ahead?”

  She ordered Wes’s coffee and then his food, debating whether or not to text him. But he showed up a few minutes later with a friendly hello to everyone. He leaned over and stiffly kissed the top of her head before sitting next to her.

  Their charade felt awkward as they finished breakfast with the group and made plans to leave for the resort. Every touch, every smile she and Weston had shared for the purpose of pretense, now felt very, very real. And weird.

  She could barely make eye contact with him.

  What had happened?

  “I think we should talk about the kiss,” he suggested the second they got back to their room.

  “I don’t know. I was thinking the opposite.” She focused on packing her things.

  He went on anyway. “I think, for both of us, in the past when we’ve walked into a hotel room with a member of the opposite sex it was prelude to a sexual encounter. Last night, with the help of alcohol, we found ourselves in a situation that stimulated this memory and course of action.”

  He was so cute when he was being theoretical. She couldn’t help but smile as he went on.

  “So you kissed me. So what? You were just doing what came next.” He shrugged it off and zipped up his bag.

  She blinked before her eyes narrowed on him. “Wait a minute. I kissed you?”

  “Yes. Surely you remember. You’d only had three glasses of wine.”

  “I remember the kiss. But what I also remember was you staring at me all gooey-eyed, and then you came over and kissed me.” She pointed to the area in front of her suitcase where the infraction had occurred.

  His eyes widened in shock. “I kissed you?” He squinted in confusion. “If I did, and I don’t think it was me, it could only have been because you came out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel. What warm-blooded male wouldn’t react to a female in a towel? None! It’s impossible!”

  “I forgot my clothes!”

  “Forgot.” A snorting sound left his lips while he made air quotes, obviously doubting the truth of her statement.

>   “Oh. So you think I’m some kind of evil seductress who planned the whole thing in an attempt to lure you to my bed?” She swallowed down the pleasure the idea evoked. She’d never been a seductress before. She’d always been more of a let the guy do what he wanted and she would have a little fun too kind of girl.

  Weston—always the voice of reason—put his hands up in defeat. “Let’s just stop this. It’s not going anywhere good.”

  She wanted to argue his theory. She was feeling all sorts of passion and arousal.

  “It doesn’t really matter who kissed whom.” Her lip twitched at his formal grammar. “The truth of it is, we kissed. It happened. Now we either put it behind us and move on, or give up on this whole plan.”

  She wanted to offer a third option. That they could do it again and see where it went. But instead she nodded. He was right. This would mess up their plans. “I’m sorry. You’re right. Let’s go.”

  “Hug it out?” He held out his arms wide and she stepped into them. “Friends?” he rumbled in her ear.

  “Friends,” she agreed, hoping her body would cooperate with the plan.

  * * * *

  Beth and Curt’s wife, Wendy, gave tight smiles as Jamie and Wes walked out of the hotel hand in hand. He didn’t understand the look, but gave Jamie a kiss on the head for their benefit before pushing the luggage cart to the back of the van. Rob and Curt hovered by the back door as Weston loaded their bags. Lance and Holly McCafferty were late, but since they were the guests no one complained.

  “You guys okay?” Curt asked.

  “Sure, why?” Weston looked at the man’s hand that rested on his shoulder, offering comfort.

  “This trip is all about finding ways to communicate with your partner without yelling.” Damn. They’d heard the fight. They obviously hadn’t heard what was said or they wouldn’t be worried about their communication skills.

  Weston nodded. There was no way to downplay it. They had been yelling at one another. Although instead of being angry, he found himself fighting the urge to throw her on the bed and take her in a fog of primal lust. It had to be the hotel. He’d never felt this before. Not for anyone, and especially not for Jamie.

  “We calmed down and worked it out,” Weston offered. The hand on his shoulder gave him a firm pat and Curt smiled approvingly.

  “You’re halfway there then. Being able to step back and know negative words won’t get you anywhere is half the battle.”

  “Yes,” Weston agreed. “We should get going.”

  Fortunately Lance and Holly were given a suite, so they wouldn’t have been in hearing range of the argument. When they arrived they were oblivious to the earlier discussion.

  In the van, Jamie took his hand and gave it a little squeeze. He looked down at her to see she was smiling at him. Not the fake, pretend-wife smile, but her real smile. Glancing around the van he noticed no one was even looking at them.

  This was real. This smile was for him. She was telling him she was fine.

  He smiled back and squeezed her hand in answer to hers.

  They could do this. They could maintain their friendship while pretending to be in love for the sake of wooing a client.

  Just as long as he could keep his body in check. His reaction had surprised him. He expected to be immune to Jamie. Now he was aware that wasn’t true, and he’d be better prepared.

  They arrived at the resort in time for lunch, and met Misty, their activities director. Their luggage was taken to their cottage as they were escorted to a veranda that looked out over a bay with sparkling blue water and white sand.

  “The prize,” she whispered next to him, making him laugh.

  “You’re saying you like this better than Boston’s piles of gray snow and snotcicles?” he teased her.

  She looked up at him. “This is paradise.”

  Yes, it was. But more because she was here with him rather than the warm sunshine and palm trees. He could have come here whenever he wanted, but he never had.

  Truth be known, he’d rather go to work and hang out with Jamie than take a vacation by himself.

  * * * *

  “Okay, everyone,” Misty piped up when they’d finished eating. She held a piece of paper in her hand and had a look of authority in her eye. “I’d like to go over the itinerary for the next few days. There will be a copy waiting in your room, but I thought we’d go over it now in case anyone had any questions.”

  No one said anything, but Weston tensed, not knowing why. The whole purpose of the trip was to build a stronger connection with his wife. He didn’t think it was an issue, until after that kiss. A stronger connection might not be a good idea.

  “When we’re done here we will retire to our rooms to unpack and relax. Tonight at dinner we will be playing a game to get to know each other better.”

  So far so good.

  “Tomorrow after breakfast we will be doing our first workshop on trust. Bathing suits required.” Not a problem. He already trusted Jamie. “After lunch we will meet with Dr. Steinburger, who will go over conflict resolution in a loving relationship.” Maybe it was him, but it felt like the rest of the group looked at him.

  “The next day we have goal-setting for couples, and Romance 101. Yes, men, you must attend. Take notes,” she joked, and everyone laughed. Weston wondered if he could bail on that class. It would do him no good to exercise those skills with Jamie. “The last day will be open, but we’ll end the evening with a dance instructor before we leave the next day.”

  Everyone nodded their approval of the plan.

  “Please use your free time to take advantage of the other activities and build a bond with your partner. I’ll see everyone back here at four for the game.”

  “Come on, partner.” Weston took her hand. “Let’s get unpacked so we can kick everyone’s ass at this game.” He knew how competitive she was.

  She laughed and took his hand.

  He was feeling completely at ease as they walked up to their bungalow. Not just because he had an actual key instead of a blasted key card, but because they had gotten over the awkwardness and were ready to have fun for the next few days. She’d already mentioned kayaking and hiking, and he was looking forward to hanging out with his friend.

  From the front, it was difficult to tell how big the bungalow was because of the vegetation surrounding it. He was completely caught off guard when he opened the door and stepped inside with Jamie right behind him.

  “Oh, hell.” He vaguely heard Jamie murmur as they looked around the tiny—no, miniscule—bungalow. It was smaller than any hotel room he’d ever seen.

  Small wouldn’t have been a problem except small meant there was only one queen-size bed and no other place where he could sleep. Not even the floor.

  “Okay, well, we’ll just have to share the bed. It’s bigger than the bed at your dad’s place.” He tried to sound optimistic.

  He looked at her, knowing the size of the bed wasn’t the issue. It was that they would both be in it at the same time. They’d slept together many times by now, but it had been different. It had been before that wicked kiss. After the kiss the night before, he didn’t trust himself to be close to her in the dark in a horizontal position.

  “No big deal,” she said, in the tone she used when she was trying to convince herself more than other people.

  The bathroom was also tiny. He didn’t even think he’d have room to change in there.

  Without thinking, he turned off the air-conditioning and opened the sliding door that led out the back onto the beach.

  “We won’t be spending much time in the room anyway. Just to sleep,” she pointed out.

  “Right.” Sleep. That was what he was worried about.

  * * * *

  The dinner table was elaborately decorated with tropical flowers and food Jamie didn’t recognize. She and Weston were th
e first ones to arrive, but the others wandered in a few minutes later.

  Misty moved to the head of the table and tapped a pack of index cards.

  “Okay, everyone. I want you each to take the seat across from your partner. Men on one side, women on the other.”

  Jamie had nearly forgotten about the game. She was hungry after the walk she and Weston had taken on the beach.

  Weston gave her hand a squeeze and moved to the opposite side of the table from her. They were both super competitive, so she knew he would do his best to win the game.

  She leaned across, offering her palm. “Go team Archer!” she said, making the others chuckle. Weston had a look in his eyes that she’d never seen before. It made her heart skip a beat.

  “All right, everyone. We’re playing the newlywed game. Obviously some of you are not newlyweds, so you’ll have an advantage. But the important thing isn’t the points as much as to learn something about our partners.” Jamie’s brows pulled together in disgust of a game where points didn’t matter. How could she be the winner if the points didn’t matter? “But of course there will be a prize for the team with the most points.” That’s more like it. Weston gave her a thumbs-up.

  “Ladies. In front of you you’ll find a stack of index cards and a marker. I’m going to ask you a question and you’re going to write your answer on a card. We will ask your husband the same question, and he’ll try to give the same answer you’ve written. Then you’ll show your answer and see who got it right. Are we ready?”

  When everyone nodded, Misty asked her first question.

  “What was the name of your husband’s first pet?” Jamie frowned, not because she didn’t know the answer, but because it was just so sad. She wrote down her answer as Misty moved on to the next question.

  “What was the name of your husband’s college roommate?” Jamie wrote the answer on the next card without a doubt.

  “What would your husband say is his greatest achievement?” Jamie gave that a little thought, and then wrote the answer she hoped Weston would say.

  “And last question for this round, what would your husband say is his favorite part of your body?” Jamie swallowed. She didn’t know how to answer this. Except . . .