The One-Week Wife
Page 15
“You do?” he murmured.
“Uh-huh.” She ran her fingers down his chest and slowly, reluctantly, pushed him away. “Let me show you.” Walking to her suitcase, she opened the top and took out a lace-trimmed heart. “To hang on the doorknob outside our room,” she said, handing it to him. “It ought to keep everyone away.”
Do Not Disturb!
Honeymooners In Quarantine.
Matt read the square letters she’d printed and looked up at her. “This won’t fool Frankie.”
“Of course not.” She shook her head. “Him, I had to bribe. But everyone else will leave us alone.” Lifting her skirt, she flashed him a view of her thigh-high stockings and silk garter belt. “And we want to be alone, Matt, so hurry up and put out that sign.”
Gulping, Matt hurried, triple-locked the door, and returned to her in the time it took her to slip off her pumps and move next to the bed. If his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him…“You aren’t wearing any panties,” he said softly, as he slipped his arms around her.
“I know you wanted to take off my gown, but really, Matt,” she said, smiling softly at him, “why waste time?” Pushing him backward so that he fell onto the bed with her in his arms, she helped him with his clothes until it was just him and her and yards of lace and soft white satin.
Matt was in heaven. Crushing her to him, he gave her another long kiss. “So what are we quarantined with?”
“Lovesickness, of course,” she said.
“That was what I was hoping you would say,” he said, rolling her over onto her back and helping her push the satin up so that he could feel her hot skin and nylons against him.
“Why?” she whispered.
“‘Cause I have the cure for what ails us.” Lowering his lips to hers, he proceeded to show her exactly what that cure was.
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If you liked THE ONE-WEEK WIFE, be sure to read about West Gallagher’s story in THE ONE-WEEK BABY, coming July 1997 from Silhouette Yours Truly. Turn the page for a taste of Hayley Gardner’s next delectable story…
FOR BETTER…FOR WORSE…FOR A WEEK!—
the seven days that turned two couples topsy-turvy!
THE ONE-WEEK BABY by HAYLEY GARDNER
Dear Mr. Gallagher,
Your book on getting what you want out of life was so awesome, I just had to go to your seminar. That’s where you convinced me—I’ve got to run and lasso my dream while there’s still time, just like you told us we should. You were so nice and caring about people’s troubles during your class, I know you won’t mind taking care of my Teddy while I’m gone. You shouldn’t have a lick of trouble. I don’t think I’ll be gone past Saturday—at least, I hope not. Anyway, with you taking care of Teddy, I won’t worry about a thing. I’ll be in touch!
Thanks,
Marcia (the checker at The Shopette)
P.S. I sent a copy of this note to my lawyer so she’ll know my Teddy’s in good hands.
Folding Marcia’s note in half, West Gallagher gazed down at the blanket-covered wicker laundry basket on his front porch. How nice, he thought uneasily, that Marcia-from-the-Shopette wasn’t going to worry. He, on the other hand, had a feeling he was about to get plenty worried—unless, that was, by Teddy this Marcia was referring to her favorite stuffed animal.
But no…Something shifted under the blanket, and the surface rose and fell like an undulating wave. Whatever it was, it could move. Not a teddy bear, then. Maybe a puppy.
Not a puppy. As West stood frozen in place on what had seconds before been his very boring front porch, he knew both guesses were wrong. He knew this because he thought this “Marcia-From-theShopette” would probably have taken a puppy or a stuffed bear with her while pursuing her dream. Only children ever seemed to prove a burden for parents when it came to moving on.
That he knew for a fact. Shortly after West had turned eight, his father had left home and not come back, and West distinctly recalled that neither he nor his eleven-year-old brother Matt had been invited to join him. West knew now that either of them tagging along would have just slowed his father down. Marcia had probably left her very own version of a Pandora’s Box on his doorstep for the same reason—a child got in the way of personal freedom.
But his father eventually had returned, and West hoped now that just like Luke, Marcia would come back, too, full of remorse, maybe even in the week that she’d promised. West suddenly recalled himself as a little boy clinging to that exact same hope as days, and then weeks went by without his seeing his old man, and then, when everything went out of control, his mother, and then his brother. Clenching his jaw, he forced back the memories. Just because he’d been left alone didn’t mean that Marcia wouldn’t return for her baby.
Did it?
His gut tightening, West looked up and down the street, hoping for a miracle. But then he heard a gurgling sound and looked down at the wicker basket illuminated in his golden porch light.
Blue elephants appliqued on the sheet blanket rose and fell, and West knew that no matter how much he wanted to remain in a pleasant, zombielike state of inactivity and denial, there was a baby under that cover, and he had to do something. But in that basket was a time bomb, Just waiting for him to get close enough so it could explode and disintegrate his perfectly organized life, and he was very reluctant to unwrap the package…
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eISBN 978-14592-7401-3
THE ONE-WEEK WIFE
Copyright © 1997 by Florence Moyer
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