Weekend Wife

by Carolyn Zane

  “No,” Emily automatically answered, going with the story she and Tyler had concocted. “I, uh, spent some time in Mexico...after high school,” she said, “and became friends with Carmen’s family. When they were tragically killed, I agreed to take Carmen in. And Tyler has been so sweet about the whole thing, agreeing to adopt her and all.”

  Roxanne gave her a glazed look and it was suddenly crystal clear to Emily why Ty was in such a jam with this woman. There was definitely something wrong with her. Something elemental missing in her personality. Emily couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but her instincts warned her to beware.

  “Isn’t that sweet?” Roxanne gushed. “And how fortunate that we will be spending the next week in Mexico. Why, you—” she eyed Emily triumphantly “—can translate for us!” she cried, looking down her nose at Tyler’s little family, clearly pitying the poor fool.

  “Translate?” Emily licked her dry lips. She’d only had two years of high school Spanish. At best, she could compliment someone on a beautiful taco. How the heck was she supposed to learn Spanish before next Monday? For this kind of work, Tyler had better start making plans to build a college trust fund for Carmen, she fumed.

  “Yes. You know,” Roxanne purred, training her hawklike gaze back on Emily, “show us how to barter with the locals, tell us where the nightlife is hot.”

  Emily knew of some caves in Mexico that would be perfect. Roxanne could hang upside down and enjoy the nightlife to her puny little heart’s content. Her condescending attitude was rapidly getting on Emily’s nerves.

  “Ah, sí, no problema,” she responded, racking her limited vocabulary for the proper words.

  Thankfully, Tyler, followed by Uncle Denny and their guest, entered the seating area, saving Emily from any further bilingual tongue twisting. As her husband strode into the room, leading the owner of the company and his guest, Emily was suddenly aware of the raw power Ty exuded. His confident charisma was an exciting thing to watch, and she could tell by the way the two men at his side regarded him that he inspired their complete and total trust.

  She glanced over at Roxanne, who was staring hungrily at him. No wonder she had such a fixation on Ty. It was perfectly understandable, she mused as her eyes wandered back to the magnetic man leaning casually in the doorway, laughing easily and making small talk with the potential client.

  “Ste-eerike the bum out!” Helga roared, leaping up in her seat and sending her tub of popcorn flying. “What the hell are you lookin’ at, Ump?”

  Heartburn flaming, Ty ignored his mother and, catching Emily’s eye, motioned her over to his side. Kissing her lightly on her cheek, he said, “Sweetheart, you already know Uncle Denny.”

  Uncle Denny, the soul of gentility, kissed the hand she extended. “Always a pleasure to see you, dear. And I’m so delighted that you could bring your mother, Tyler.” He looked fondly over at Helga, who hung out the window to better threaten the umpire.

  Wincing at the string of expletives coming from his fanatical parent, Ty valiantly carried on with the introductions. “And this is his guest—and longtime family friend—Mr. Brubaker, from Texas. Mr. Brubaker owns controlling interest in several very large companies that are looking to expand their software capabilities.”

  A diminutive man in a giant, ten-gallon cowboy hat stepped forward and enthusiastically pumped Emily’s hand. “Wall, hello theah!” he bellowed, his eyes twinkling. “Nice to meetcha. And don’t be givin’ me any of that Mr. Brubaker crap, pardon my French.” He doffed his hat at Emily and squinted at Ty. “Call me Big Daddy, little gal. Everybody does.”

  “Thank you, er, Big Daddy. I’ll do that.” Emily smiled down at the irresistible man, who stood no higher than her shoulder.

  As Ty led her back to her seat, Big Daddy settled into the chair directly behind Emily and immediately struck up a conversation.

  “So. I heah y’all are newlyweds! Congratulations! Boy howdy, theah’s nothin’ I like better than a weddin’.” Pounding Ty manfully on the back, he winked broadly at him and said, “Looks to me like you made out, Ty, old boy. She’s a beaut!”

  Roxanne, seated next to Big Daddy and behind Ty, snorted in disgust.

  “I’m a real family man, myself,” the tiny Texan thundered in an effort to be heard above the enthusiastic crowd. “That’s why I love doin’ business with Denny and his niece. Did I mention that I have nine kids?” he asked as he fished the biggest wad of pictures out of his pocket that Tyler had ever seen.

  “Wow, honey. Imagine that.” Ty put a casual arm around Emily and squeezed. “Nine kids. Sounds like fun, doesn’t it?”

  Emily’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head. “For you, maybe.”

  Disregarding her lack of enthusiasm, Ty laughed indulgently. “We want a big family ourselves,” he confided to his potential client. “Isn’t that right, hon?”

  Another disbelieving snort came from Roxanne as she recrossed her legs, thumping Tyler roughly on the back of his head. “Sorry,” she murmured in her smoky, bedroom voice.

  Unable to stop herself, Emily shot an annoyed look at her husband’s pushy boss. “Why, yes, darling, a big family,” she agreed, and as though suddenly remembering that this was only an act, smiled brightly over her shoulder at Big Daddy and Roxanne. “Big family. Carmen wants lots of brothers and sisters, don’t you, sweetheart?”

  “Sí! Muy grande familia! Sí!” She clapped excitedly.

  Roxanne shook her head, rolled her heavily made-up eyes toward the ceiling, and sighed the sigh of a woman condemned to a boring ball game with a bunch of tiresome ninnies.

  As Emily chatted with the effusive Big Daddy, Ty glanced over to make sure his mother hadn’t managed to get him fired yet. So far, so good, he mused, watching the usually mild-mannered Uncle Denny shout with glee at the umpire.

  “Buddy, you’re so blind your glasses need glasses!” the red-faced Denny hollered.

  Helga roared. Punching Denny in the arm, she crowed, “Good one, Denny, old boy!”

  Ty reached into his pocket and pulled out his extra-large bottle of industrial-strength antacid tablets and, pouring himself a handful, proceeded to eat them like candy. Helga’s crude manners and boisterous behavior would certainly be the death of him. Never mind that Denny seemed somewhat amused by her antics. That would surely come to a grinding halt the moment she burst forth with a string of obscenities. Or perhaps she would pull the liner out of yonder garbage can and put on a fashion show that poor old Uncle Denny would never forget.

  Popping another tablet into his mouth, Tyler decided to ignore the rowdy faction to his left and concentrate on wooing the client. After all, that’s what he was here for. Turning his back on his lunatic mother, he glanced over at Emily, who was discussing the importance of family with Big Daddy Brubaker.

  Her smile was so warm and genuine as she nodded in agreement with something the small Texan was pontificating about. Ty couldn’t help but compare her graceful countenance with that of the brassy Roxanne. And seeing them in the same room together only drove the point further home.

  She was doing a great job. Ty sat, momentarily lost in his ruminations. It was obvious that both Big Daddy and Uncle Denny thought she was wonderful, and even though Roxanne seemed skeptical, he was sure she could find no fault in his wife’s performance.

  He was even beginning to believe their story himself. In fact, he thought, noticing the smooth curve of her cheek lift slightly as she smiled, she seemed so authentic she almost made up for Helga’s nutty behavior. An outburst from the old woman drew his eyes. Well, almost.

  Emily was everything he could ever have asked for in a weekend wife. Hell, a forever wife even. Lovely. Gracious. Caring. His thoughts drifted to last night’s episode in the pool. Sexy. Passionate. Hot. Eyes glazing over—as he recalled the incredibly vivid vision of her in that teensy bandage she called a swimsuit—his head lolled back in his seat. Maybe she would be up for another swimming lesson tonight, he mused. Provided he was still alive after an even
ing with the cast of Cuckoo’s Nest.

  The crowd’s roar was only so much background noise as Ty began to envision himself stranded on a desert island with Emily. No Roxanne. No Uncle Denny. No Helga. Just the two of them and that itty-bitty, teensy-weensy, neon pink bikini.

  “Looks like it’s just the two of us,” Roxanne leaned forward in her chair and whispered softly to Ty.

  Still lost in his fantasy, Ty nodded happily. “Hmm?”

  “Everyone else is ignoring us, silly,” she cooed, tugging on a lock of hair at the back of his head. “It’s just you and me.”

  “Oh.” Tyler sat up abruptly, suddenly back at Dodger Stadium. For crying out loud. Couldn’t he even attend a client meeting—with his wife and child, no less—without Roxanne coming on to him?

  Was it time for a display of newlywed behavior with Emily? he wondered as his boss tickled the back of his neck with her long bloodred nails. Maybe a little husbandly kiss. Roxanne dug her nails in. Maybe a big honeymoon kiss. His blood ran warm at the thought. But wouldn’t that seem tacky in the middle of a business meeting? Tough. It would be no tackier than the nympho seated behind him. Besides, he thought as Roxanne raked her claws down the back of his neck, he was getting desperate.

  Hmm... How was he going to kiss Emily when she was still yapping away with the client? This could be tricky. He turned in his seat, trying to catch her eye. Just what the heck were they talking about, anyway?

  “Extra mustard?” Emily was asking the Texan.

  “Pour it on, honey pie! And ribs. See if they have some of those, will you?” Big Daddy nudged Roxanne playfully. “I can make a real mess with a pile of ribs.”

  Roxanne grimaced, and tried to hide the pained expression that crossed her face with a phony smile.

  Emily reached out and twined her fingers through Tyler’s. “Honey, I’m going to need some help gathering up all this food, would you mind coming with me?”

  “No! Of course not, darling! I’d love to help.” Leaping to his feet, he bolted to the door.

  “Good.” She looked strangely at him, and then turned to Carmen. “You be a good girl for Grandma, okay?”

  “Don’t worry about her, darlin’,” Big Daddy instructed. “We’ll keep an eye on her, won’t we, Roxanne, honey?”

  Roxanne took a large swig of her drink.

  The grip Ty had on her hand threatened to squeeze the lifeblood out of her fingers as he pulled her roughly through the crowd to the lower-level concession stands. Dodging and weaving, his square jaw tightly clenched, he yanked her behind him until he found the farthest hot-dog stand he could find from their seats. Looking over his shoulder from time to time, as though the hounds of hell were hot on his trail, he battled his way toward the last and longest line.

  Gasping for air, Emily reared back on his hand and dug her heels in. “Would you please slow down?” she pleaded, and attempted to adjust the skirt that had bunched so unattractively between her legs.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled, pausing while she pulled herself together.

  Puzzled, Emily studied the pensive expression in his eyes. “What’s the matter? I thought everything seemed to be going all right back there.”

  “It is.” He sighed, leading her to a place at the end of the line. “It’s just that she’s still coming on to me.”

  “Can’t you do something?”

  “What? Challenge her to a duel? She’s my boss, for crying out loud.”

  “I see your point. Besides, as your wife, that should probably be my job,” she teased, trying to bring a smile back to his handsome face.

  Ignoring the interested stares of the people waiting in line around them, Ty put a grateful arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. “You’d do that for me?”

  “Her choice of weapons. At dawn.”

  Ty beamed down at her sunny face. “You’re doing a great job, you know. The client seems taken with you.”

  “Well... Uh... I wouldn’t exactly say I was doing a great job.” Lifting an insolent eyebrow, she stared back at a snoopy woman in a polyester jumpsuit who was standing in front of them and drinking in their every word. Turning her back on the nosy old broad, she sought out Ty’s eyes, and decided there was no time like the present to fess up to the truth.

  Concerned, Ty returned her gaze. “What’s wrong?”

  “Roxanne thinks I know Spanish. I can understand Carmen pretty well, but that’s because she throws some English in every once in a while. But now Roxanne wants me to translate for her when we get to Mexico next week. Tyler, I’ve never been to Mexico before in my life!” She looked up at him, her eyes suddenly wide with fear.

  The nosy woman in polyester swung her fascinated gaze over to Ty for his reaction.

  “I don’t suppose you speak any Spanish?” he asked hopefully.

  “Not unless you count being able to ask where the train station is,” she admitted lamely.

  “Hmm. My Spanish is limited to ordering beer. Not really handy.” Ty plowed a frustrated hand through his hair. “Unless we want to take her to the train station and get her drunk.” He looked comically over at her.

  The thought tickled her funny bone. “Hey, now. You might just be on to something there.”

  “Anything else you need to tell me?” Ty eyed her dubiously.

  “No, honey. Only that I have to learn Spanish before next week.”

  Ty arched a worried eyebrow.

  Emily shrugged resignedly. “I just don’t know how you’ve stood that witch for so long,” she said, exasperated after only part of an evening.

  “And I’ve only been on the job for three days.” He sighed and drew her possessively to his side.

  “That’s two and a half days too long, if you ask me,” she huffed. “She is really awful. I’m sure there must be some kind of law against people like her.”

  “Probably, but I don’t want to resort to that unless I have to. Uncle Denny is a super guy, and I really don’t want to do anything that would hurt him, if I can avoid it. If you keep doing such a great job as my wife, hopefully we can.” Rubbing her shoulders affectionately, he bent down and kissed her on the neck, behind the ear. “Just rehearsing,” he whispered, nuzzling her earlobe with his nose.

  “Oh. Uh, sure,” she said breathlessly as his lips traveled lower. Too bad it wasn’t for real, she mused, leaning back and tilting her head to give him access to the place where her neck met her shoulder.

  Feeling as though he was being watched, Ty glanced up and winked at the still-gaping snoop in polyester. Then he pulled Emily into his arms for a heart-stopping kiss on the mouth. When he released her, the woman in line was fanning herself with her program.

  “What was that for?” Emily whispered against his cheek as he held her tightly in his arms.

  He kissed her lightly on the lips, her nose, her eyelids.

  “Several reasons,” he breathed, dancing her forward in line, nearly knocking over their spectator. “Partly for her benefit.” He nudged the woman’s polyester-clad shoulder. “Partly for rehearsal.” He kissed her lips again. “But mostly for myself. I’m sorry.” His arms tightened around her waist. “I know I promised to be a good boy, but—” his voice grew husky in her ear “—I’ve wanted to do that again ever since last night.”

  “Really?” Emily sighed, intoxicated by the feelings he set to life in her.

  “Mmm-hmm.” His low voice turned her knees to water.

  “What’ll it be, ma’am?” The teenager behind the counter reached out and tugged at the woman in polyester.

  “I’ll have a cot dog and a hoke,” she replied, watching in fascination as Emily and Tyler continued to rehearse the more physical aspects of their act.

  * * *

  “I had a wonderful time tonight,” Emily whispered into the darkened interior of Ty’s Mercedes as they sped down the freeway toward home. And it was true. She couldn’t remember a time when she’d enjoyed herself more. Carmen, tuckered out from an evening of hot dogs and candy and si
lver dollars from Big Daddy Brubaker, was sleeping soundly in the back seat next to the loudly slumbering Helga.

  “Me, too.” Ty looked surprised by his admission. Emily knew that he was exceedingly relieved to have the stressful evening over and done with. Everyone had managed to live through the ordeal, and even seemed to have had some fun in the process. “I think Big Daddy is going to go with Connstarr.”

  “Really?” Emily squeaked as loudly as she dared. “Did he say that?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “It’s just a gut feeling I have. We spent a lot of time talking over that pile of ribs you brought him during the second half of the game. He’s a pretty shrewd businessman, and I think he knows that Connstarr is the only realistic choice for him. But you know what I think really clinched the deal in his mind?” He peered over at her face, dimly lit by the console.

  “No. What?”

  “You.”

  “Me?”

  “I’m serious. He really liked you. He told me.”

  “Really?” Emily felt suddenly bashful.

  “Yes. He said, and I quote, ‘I love how gaga you two are over each other. Reminds me of me and the little missus down at the ranch.’”

  Emily giggled. “He said that?”

  “Honest. Thought we were gaga over each other.”

  Embarrassed, she suddenly occupied herself by checking on Carmen in the back seat. Big Daddy had hit just a little too close to home on the gaga issue. If she didn’t get her emotions under control pretty soon, she would be in serious trouble. It was just that tonight had felt so right. She found herself wishing that she truly was Mrs. Tyler Newroth, and that Carmen was their daughter, and that Helga was her mother-in-law. A loud snort from the back seat brought her to her senses.

  There she went again, fantasizing about something that she had no business even contemplating. It was becoming increasingly difficult to remember why she’d come to L.A. She had to stop thinking about how perfectly wonderful Ty was, and focus. Focus, focus, focus. But it was so hard, she thought as her eyes landed and focused on him.

  “I think they had a good time, too,” she commented, gesturing to the back seat and forcing herself to concentrate on something else.