A Wife for One Year

by Brenda Harlen

  “You didn’t seem overly concerned about those changes when we were naked together.”

  “Because I’m a man and I’m weak, and you...you are amazing. Beautiful and warm and passionate.”

  She stared at him, trying to reconcile the words with his actions. “If you really think so, why don’t you want me?”

  He reached up and gently brushed a strand of hair off her cheek. “You’ve got it wrong,” he told her. “What I really want is to take you home and make love to you again—gently, patiently, endlessly.”

  “Oh.” She was suddenly breathless. “So...why aren’t we doing that?”

  His smile was wry. “Because that would completely annihilate the lines.”

  “Having sex once is okay, but twice is a bad idea?”

  “Twice leads to three times then four, and suddenly we’ve changed the nature of our relationship. You’re my best friend in the world, Kenna, and I don’t want to jeopardize that for anything.”

  Since it was the same argument she’d made when he’d suggested that they get married, she could hardly fault him for feeling the same way. So she nodded. “Okay—we’ll stick to being friends.”

  But he still looked worried. “What you said to Archie, about being with the man who owned your heart—”

  “Just playing the part of the besotted bride,” she assured him.

  He nodded, accepting—and visibly relieved by—her explanation.

  Kenna only wished she believed it was true.

  Chapter Ten

  When they got back to the condo, Daniel called Josh to update him on the sponsorship situation, then he drafted an email to his legal team—aka his cousin Jackson—asking him to forward the sponsorship agreement to Cal Archer. By the time he’d completed those two tasks, it was almost midnight.

  To say that it had been an eventful day would be a massive understatement. From the time that he’d awakened, sixteen hours earlier, the day had been filled with emotional peaks and valleys. Making love with Kenna, fighting with Kenna, the silent plane ride with Kenna, dinner with Archie and Kenna, and finally restoring the status quo with Kenna.

  Or at least pretending that they’d restored the status quo.

  He’d meant what he said to her—she was his best friend in the world, and he never wanted that to change. But if he thought that going back to being just friends would be easy, he was lying to himself.

  He didn’t hear Kenna moving around and figured she’d already gone to bed. He was exhausted, too, but he headed to the dining room, where he kept a bottle of his favorite whiskey in the sideboard. Maybe a drink would help him relax and fall asleep quickly so he could stop thinking about how much he wanted to make love with his wife again.

  As he passed the living room, he realized the TV was on. He went to turn it off and discovered Kenna there, asleep on the sofa.

  Should he wake her up so that she could go to bed? Or should he pick her up and carry her to her room?

  He immediately nixed the latter idea.

  While his intentions might be pure, he wasn’t sure he trusted himself to lay her down on her mattress and walk away. The prospect of waking her up was equally problematic, as it brought to mind the memory of how she’d looked when she’d woken up in his arms earlier that morning—the sexily tousled hair and heavy-lidded eyes, the softness of her body pressed against him.

  He pulled a blanket off the back of a chair and gently draped it over her sleeping form. That was better. Now he couldn’t see the rise and fall of her breasts beneath the pale blue sweater, or the sweet curve of her derriere in the slim-fitting navy pants.

  He resumed his path to the dining room and poured himself the promised drink. As he lifted the glass to his lips, he heard Kenna mumble in her sleep. The words were indecipherable, but something in her tone drew him back to her. “Kenna?”

  Her head thrashed from side to side on the pillow and she mumbled again, a plea or maybe a protest.

  “Kenna.” He repeated her name, louder this time, hoping his voice would penetrate the dream that held her in its grip. “I’m here, Kenna. It’s me, Daniel. Wake up, honey.”

  He continued talking, his voice low and soothing, until her eyelids flickered and, finally, opened. It took another minute for the confusion to clear, and slowly the color crept back into her cheeks.

  “Okay?” he asked.

  She nodded and shifted so that she was sitting up, her back braced against the arm of the sofa. “I guess I fell asleep.”

  “I guess you did.”

  He offered her the glass of whiskey. Her hands weren’t entirely steady as she lifted it to her lips to take one tiny sip, then another.

  “Do you have nightmares very often?” he asked her.

  She shook her head, her gaze fixed on the glass. “Never.”

  He settled beside her on the sofa. “Obviously ‘never’ isn’t really accurate.”

  “Almost never,” she amended. “It’s been years...a lot of years.”

  Which didn’t precisely narrow it down but substantiated his belief that the nightmares stemmed back to when she was attacked by her friend’s brother. Daniel tried not to think about that day, because if he did, he had to battle against a fresh surge of fury and frustration. Rational or not, he blamed himself for what had happened. He should have insisted on driving her home; he should have gone searching for her five minutes earlier; he should never have made that stupid bet.

  Over the years, he’d managed to push the nasty events to the back of his mind. And he thought Kenna had, too. But the fact that she’d had a nightmare tonight made him wonder if—

  “Stop it.” Her firm admonishment severed the thought.

  “Stop what?”

  “Thinking that my dream is somehow linked to the fact that we had sex.”

  It was downright scary sometimes, the way she seemed to read his mind. “You’re saying it’s not?”

  “I know it’s not.”

  “Then why tonight?” he challenged.

  “Maybe because we were talking about it earlier,” she admitted. “But I promise, what happened between us did not bring back memories of Blake in any way, shape or form.”

  He believed her, but that didn’t stop him from wishing that he’d been able to do more, so that the nightmares had never started. “You don’t know how many times I’ve wished I’d been there sooner—”

  “You were there when I needed you.”

  He slid an arm across her shoulders and pulled her close to his side. “I still want to go back in time and punch him again.”

  “And break your hand again?”

  He flexed his fingers. “Yeah, I’d do that again, too.”

  Kenna knew she would have to face Daniel again—there was no way to avoid it. When she walked into her third-period chemistry class on Monday, she decided she would play it cool and act as if nothing had happened. Some of his friends—probably the ones who were in on the bet—knew they’d gone for pizza, but she didn’t think any of them knew what had happened afterward, and she preferred to keep it that way.

  She rarely wore makeup, but she’d borrowed from her mother’s assortment of cosmetics to try to hide the dark circles beneath her eyes. She didn’t want Daniel to guess that she’d had nightmares every night since Blake’s attack.

  The minute she spotted her lab partner, with his hand splinted and wrapped, she knew there was no way to pretend nothing had happened. She’d seen him flexing his hand after punching Blake, but she hadn’t thought anything of it. And when he’d taken her home, he’d tended to her injuries without any mention of his own. Now her cheeks flushed with humiliation at the possibility that everyone would find out what had happened.

  “Hey, Kenna—”

  She flinched when Josh Slater, one of Daniel’s best fr
iends and a teammate on the varsity football squad, called out to her.

  “—you’re going to have to do all the writing today. Apparently our star quarterback got taken down playing football with his brothers and broke his hand.”

  She looked at Daniel. He shrugged, wordlessly confirming his intention to stick with that story.

  “Your coach must be furious,” she said, when she eased onto the stool beside him.

  “He’s not happy,” Daniel admitted.

  She dropped her voice so that it was barely a whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It wasn’t your fault.”

  But she knew that it was. “I guess I owe you.”

  “Friends don’t keep score, Kenna.”

  She opened her textbook. “Are we friends now?”

  He leaned forward, deliberately nudging her with his shoulder. “I’d say we are.”

  She tipped her head to look up at him. “Do friends say ‘thanks’?”

  He smiled. “Yeah, friends say ‘thanks.’”

  “Then ‘thanks.’”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Was it any wonder that she’d fallen just a little bit in love with him that day?

  Not all the way, of course. Even at fifteen, she’d been well aware of the fact that Daniel Garrett was way out of her league. But the way he’d stepped up to protect both her honor and her reputation made her realize there was a lot more to him than she’d assumed.

  She handed him back his drink.

  “Are you going to be okay?” he asked.

  “I’m fine,” she assured him, and touched her lips to his cheek before rising from the sofa. “And I’m going to bed.”

  “Good night.”

  As she snuggled under her covers, she sent up a silent prayer of thanks that their relationship seemed to be back on track. As incredible as it had been to make love with Daniel, and as disappointed as she’d been by his determination to ensure it wouldn’t happen again, she knew that lovers—and even husbands—were easy to find.

  But a best friend who could always be counted on was both rare and priceless.

  * * *

  About a dozen of Laurel’s friends showed up to celebrate her twenty-ninth birthday at O’Reilly’s. After the presents had been opened and the cake eaten, Jordyn—Daniel’s cousin and the pub manager—came over to their table and snagged Kenna by the arm.

  “I need to steal my cousin’s wife for a few minutes,” she apologized.

  “But we’re going to do shots,” Laurel protested.

  “I’ll bring her right back,” Jordyn promised.

  Because the room was dimly lit, Kenna didn’t see Daniel until Jordyn steered her right to the table where he was seated with Josh and another man she didn’t recognize.

  The smile that curved her lips was as automatic as the quickening of her pulse, which she ignored. She was determined to accept the limitations he’d put on their relationship and be satisfied with the fact that they were still friends.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  “We’re celebrating,” Josh answered before Daniel could, greeting her with a warm hug.

  Daniel’s friend and business partner was the only person who knew the truth about their marriage, so when Daniel snaked an arm around her waist to pull her away from his friend and brush a lingering kiss on her lips, she guessed it was for the benefit of the other man at their table. And even knowing it was only for show didn’t stop her heart from pounding or her lips from tingling. “What are you celebrating?”

  “The signing of Lorenzo D’Alesio as the driver for Garrett/Slater Racing’s number seven-twenty-two car.”

  “I’m Lorenzo.” The other man offered his hand. “But my friends call me Ren.”

  “Kenna Scott,” she said automatically.

  “Garrett,” Daniel corrected.

  “Sorry—I’m still getting used to the new name.”

  Ren looked at Daniel. “Your wife?”

  He nodded.

  “You’re a lucky man,” the driver said.

  “I know it,” Daniel assured him.

  Jordyn returned to the table with a bottle of champagne in a bucket of ice and four glasses.

  “We were waiting for you,” Daniel said, as Josh lifted the bottle out of the ice. “Because none of this would have been possible without you.”

  “I’m happy for you—you’ve worked so hard for this, and now you’re finally going to have everything you always wanted.”

  “Yes, I am,” he agreed.

  Josh popped the cork and poured the bubbly, then distributed the glasses around the table.

  “To the success of Garrett/Slater Racing,” he toasted.

  They lifted their glasses and drank.

  Daniel offered another toast. “To our new driver.”

  “To fast cars and—” Ren winked at Kenna “—beautiful women.”

  “Your turn,” Daniel told her.

  “To the fulfillment of dreams,” she decided.

  Josh emptied the bottle topping up their glasses, and Ren went to the bar for another.

  Daniel’s arm was still around her shoulders, his fingertips gently stroking her arm. There was nothing overtly sexual about the caress—in fact, he’d probably touched her the same way a thousand times before. But now that she’d experienced the pleasure of his hands touching every inch of her body, the slightest contact seemed to generate a sexual response in her.

  Friends, she reminded herself firmly.

  “I should get back to Laurel’s party,” she said, and started to ease away from him.

  Except that the words were barely out of her mouth when she saw Laurel approaching, a glass of wine in hand.

  “Everyone else left,” she pouted.

  “I was just on my way back,” Kenna assured her.

  Jordyn delivered the shots Laurel had asked for and sent Kenna a sympathetic look as she put them on the table.

  Kenna wasn’t a heavy drinker. Between the wine she’d had with dinner and the champagne, she was already feeling a little light-headed, so when her friend nudged one of the glasses toward her, she eyed it warily. Then she sniffed the contents and winced. “Peach schnapps?”

  “I thought you liked peach schnapps.”

  “Only when I was too young to legally drink it.”

  Laurel sighed and pushed her own shot away, sipping her wine instead. “When you’re twenty-two, it’s fun to be crazy. When you’re twenty-nine, it’s just pathetic.”

  Kenna reached over to squeeze her friend’s hand. “You need to stop obsessing about the number.”

  “I need to get laid,” Laurel said bluntly.

  Then she glanced up, her eyes lighting with surprise and interest, when Ren returned to the table.

  “Who is that?” she whispered.

  Kenna looked at Ren objectively. He was a good-looking man, about five-ten with a lean but muscular build, warm brown eyes, a strong jaw shadowed with stubble and a quick smile. But she suspected it was the way he carried himself, with cocky self-assurance, that drew attention to him.

  Though she had some qualms, especially in light of Laurel’s most recent comment, Kenna introduced her friend to the driver.

  They started chatting and, within minutes, Laurel no longer seemed to care that she’d been abandoned at her own birthday party. In fact, Kenna was pretty sure that if she left right now, her friend wouldn’t even notice.

  Apparently Daniel suspected the same thing, because he asked her if she wanted a ride home. She’d cabbed it to the bar with Laurel, so she was going to need one, but she wanted to know her friend’s plans first.

  Her gaze shifted back to Laurel and Ren. She envied her friend’s ease with men, her casually flirtatio
us manner, her bubbly self-confidence. She couldn’t hear their conversation, but the heated glances that passed between them indicated definite and mutual interest.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” she said to them, “but Daniel’s going to take me home, and I wondered if Laurel wanted a lift.”

  “Oh.” Her friend looked into the bottom of her empty wineglass. “Yeah...I guess I’m done here.”

  The words were barely out of her mouth before Ren smoothly swapped it for a long-stemmed flute of champagne.

  Laurel smiled at him. “I guess I’m staying a while longer.”

  “Do you have cab fare?”

  Her friend nodded, her gaze still locked with Ren’s. Kenna knew she wasn’t needed, but she couldn’t help worrying. Laurel, by her own admission, had lousy luck with men, she was undeniably under the influence of alcohol and freaked out about her birthday. To Kenna, that was a dangerous combination.

  She grabbed her friend’s arm. “Can I talk to you for a minute—please?”

  Though Laurel obviously didn’t want to leave the table, she let herself be dragged to the alcove by the restrooms.

  Kenna wanted to find the right words to express her concerns, but Laurel spoke before she could.

  “Please don’t tell me not to do this.”

  Which was exactly what Kenna had intended to say, leaving her with nothing.

  “I know I just met him,” her friend continued. “But he’s hot and sexy and it’s my birthday and I want to have a good time.”

  The bold and unapologetic statement didn’t completely alleviate Kenna’s concerns, but it reassured her that Laurel was fully cognizant of what she was doing.

  “Then I’ll just tell you to be smart and safe. And—” she hugged her friend tight “—happy birthday.”

  As she left Laurel at the bar with Ren and walked out with her husband, Kenna realized that instead of worrying about her friend, she should aspire to be half as brave as Laurel and go after what she really wanted.

  And maybe someday she would be.

  * * *

  “Fun, Food & Fireworks” was the Fourth of July theme in Charisma, and the holiday was always celebrated in a big way. The buildings in the downtown core were all decked out in red, white and blue bunting; red and white flowers spilled out of enormous planters wrapped with huge blue bows; and the Stars and Stripes flew proudly on every corner.