The Trophy Wife

by Sandra Steffen

  "Outside?"

  He couldn't help it if his expression was snide.

  "But it's ninety degrees outside."

  His gaze did a slow slide down her body. Any second now, it was going to get hotter in here. Taking a step backward, he stripped off his tie and shrugged out of his suit jacket. "How long before you're ready?"

  She glanced at the dress hanging in the alcove, and then at her reflection in the mirror across the room. "Forty-five minutes, give or take a few."

  "I'll be back in forty-five minutes, give or take a few." He disappeared out the door without another word or a backward glance.

  Alone in the room, Amber took in the blaring television and the medical journal tossed haphazardly onto the foot of the bed. Apparently, Tripp had had a difficult time concentrating. Poor baby.

  The shower had been turned to cold when she'd gotten in. Evidently being in this close proximity to her was taking a toll on him. Poor, poor baby.

  She turned off the television, hung his jacket over the chair then reached for her case. He would be back in three quarters of an hour, give or take a few minutes. She wanted to be ready when he returned. Girding herself with determination and courage, she peeled off her robe and got busy.

  That poor baby hadn't seen anything yet.

  * * *

  Amber was standing in front of the full-length mirror, looking like something Tripp had only dreamed of when he walked through the door. He paused for a moment, taking in the sight of her. She looked up, her gaze meeting his in the mirror. Every hair on his body raised slightly, as if he was standing too close to an electric fence.

  He'd never known another woman who could pull off wearing a dress that color. He didn't even know what to call it. Brown was too dark, beige too blah. The closest he could come to anything remotely like it was the outside of a walnut shell. And that seemed far too nondescript. So maybe it wasn't the color that made such an impression. Maybe it was the fit, the style, and the way, at first glance, it almost appeared as if she wasn't wearing anything at all. Every man on the planet knew how provocative almost could be.

  "How was your walk?"

  He shrugged one shoulder. "I only made it as far as the living room." He'd gotten caught up in a lengthy discussion about the health care system in Canada. He'd used the time to put up a new guard.

  She was helping him in ways he would never be able to repay. She was his friend, dammit. Cooper was his friend. In her own way, so was Nurse Proctor. He had no trouble taking his eyes off either of them. Amber was a different story. Her dress was sleeveless, but not low-cut. It had an uneven hem, and was semitransparent from the knees, down. At first glance, the same appeared to be true of a three-inch band at her waist. It turned out to be an illusion. He knew, because he looked far longer than he should have.

  His guard slipped a notch, and he had only himself to blame. Clearing his throat, he said, "I didn't really think you would be ready."

  "I'm this close." She held up two fingers. That was when he noticed the tube of lipstick in her hand. She uncapped it and leaned closer to the mirror.

  Mesmerized, he watched her outline her lips, then fill them in with color. He gave himself a mental kick, grabbed his tie, and quickly tied it. Next, he reached for his jacket, reminding himself that it wasn't her fault he couldn't seem to keep his libido in check. She wasn't even looking at him. To her, this was just business as usual.

  "I think I'm about set." She smoothed a hand down her sides. "I could use a little help with this zipper."

  She reached up with one hand, lifting the few wavy tendrils of hair trailing down her neck out of the way. Tripp tried to keep contact at a minimum as he raised the zipper, but his fingertips still memorized the texture of her soft skin.

  She swayed slightly, and in the mirror, he saw her eyelashes flutter. What was going on here?

  Was this business as usual, or wasn't it?

  He took a step back, watching her closely.

  "Thanks." She said that one word in a voice soft and warm enough to slip into.

  His guard slipped another notch. "Amber, what are you doing?"

  She looked over her shoulder at him. "I'm getting ready. What does it look like I'm doing? All I need are my shoes." She slipped one on while she continued. "Are you ready to dazzle Montgomery Perkins and his associates, Doctor?"

  Her voice sounded natural. Or did it? Before he could decide, she'd donned the other shoe and faced him.

  "Well? How do I look?"

  He thought she looked beautiful. He said, "You look tall."

  She grinned. "It's these shoes. They cost as much as the dress did. They're to die for, aren't they? I mean, they make the outfit. Can I help it if, in them, I'll tower over that snotty little pipsqueak, Olivia?"

  Tripp did a double take, then laughed out loud. The statement was just so Amber, he couldn't help it. The tension drained out of him. There was nothing new in the twinkle in her eyes. She wasn't up to anything. This was the same person he'd known when they were kids, the bratty girl with nerves of steel and a heart of gold. She'd grown up, but inside, she was the same little kid who'd stuck up for him to her father, only to call him a jerk the first chance she got.

  He offered her his arm. "Something tells me you're the one who'll be doing the dazzling tonight."

  Bag in hand, Amber placed her fingers in the crook of Tripp's arm. The most delicious sensation started in a place completely unconnected to her hand, only to radiate outward in every direction. She hoped he was right, and had to bite her lip to hold her expression to a demure smile.

  Nine

  Duncan's Restaurant in downtown Jackson wasn't quite as elegant as Alessandro's, but it was like Tripp had said when they'd first stepped out of the cab. Eating here was bound to be better than getting poked in the eye with a sharp stick. Amber had entered laughing.

  This time it was she who didn't pay any attention to the heads that turned to look. She'd floated in on Tripp's arm, happy. She couldn't help it. She was thoroughly enjoying their weekend together. And she was more and more convinced that what they had would last.

  Dr. and Mrs. Perkins had been warm and welcoming. And Amber had been genuinely taken with the bride-to-be and her groom. The bride's mother and all ten bridesmaids had been friendly, too. Amber couldn't say the same for Olivia Babcock and Derek Spencer. Surprise, surprise.

  Luckily for Amber, other than at dinner when she'd sat across from Derek, she'd been exposed to him in small doses only. Olivia was more difficult to steer clear of.

  Amber was standing with a small group of bridesmaids when Olivia, wearing a designer dress in royal blue silk, placed a dainty hand on Amber's arm and coyly said, "Those pins in your hair are tipped in amber, aren't they?"

  Amber's nod was careful.

  Olivia smiled all around as she said, "Amber on amber. How quaint and sweet. I had a similar fascination with sapphires when I was in junior high."

  There was that poke in the eye with a sharp stick Tripp had mentioned. Amber swore everyone took a collective gasp. The bridesmaid on her right cleared her throat awkwardly, but Amber kept her smile pasted on her face and held her tongue, when what she wanted to do was wipe that smirk off Olivia's snotty face.

  As unobtrusively and discreetly as possible, she excused herself from the little group the first chance she got, joining both mothers and the bride-to-be. Jennifer was fretting about the flower girl, who had refused to walk down the aisle at rehearsal. Her mother and Cornelia were trying to put her mind at ease.

  Weddings. They involved so much hoopla.

  Amber had been dreaming of hers forever. A long time ago she'd imagined an all-day, no-expenses-barred extravaganza such as tomorrow was sure to be. Not anymore. Fairy-tale weddings were for people with functional families. She couldn't imagine the stranger she called "Mother" helping Amber plan the wedding of her dreams.

  She took a sip of champagne. Listening with only one ear to the wedding plans for tomorrow, she searched the semipri
vate alcove for Tripp. It took only an instant to pick him out of the crowd. Fifteen minutes ago, Montgomery Perkins had escorted Tripp and his contender to the center of the room where they were deep in conversation with Dr. Gentry, Dr. Harris, and Perkins's older son, who happened to be an attorney practicing in Boston.

  She was proud of Tripp tonight. This wasn't his preferred setting, and yet he'd handled himself with quiet dignity. At first glance he fit right in, in his expensive black suit and Italian tie. Sure, his haircut helped, but it only took a second glance to know there was something special about Dr. Tripp Calhoun. There was a natural, unaffected aura about him. It was there in the way he stood, his feet a comfortable distance apart, his shoulders squared, his head tilted slightly as he listened to something Dr. Gentry said. Tripp wasn't prone to smiles. When he grinned, he meant it.

  In comparison, Derek Spencer smiled big and he smiled often. His hair looked a little too blond, his skin a little too tan. Surely, Amber wasn't the only person who thought Spencer's phoniness went deeper than his appearance. She simply couldn't imagine Dr. Perkins awarding the position to such a man.

  Tripp chose that moment to glance her way. She couldn't see the color of his eyes from here, but she could feel the affection in his gaze. An answering heat found its way inside her, reminding her of everything she was planning for later in the evening. Nerves scrambled up and down her spine, but not enough to chase the hazy images out of her mind.

  "Jennifer. Hello again."

  Amber started, her attention coming back to the group of women she was with. By the time she recognized that voice it was too late to retreat. Olivia was back.

  "I was hoping I would get the chance to wish you the best for tomorrow. You must be so excited!" the petite brunette exclaimed.

  "I was excited a year ago. A week ago. Tonight I'm nervous," Jennifer said.

  "It's going to be lovely," Cornelia insisted.

  "I hope it doesn't rain!" Jennifer's mother qualified.

  "That's always a concern with a garden wedding," Olivia said, nodding in understanding. "But I heard a weather report. The weatherman is predicting sunny skies tomorrow and temperatures in the nineties. He's not calling for a drop of rain."

  Jennifer Blakely was twenty-five years old, and undeniably pretty. Her relief seemed genuine as she laid her left hand on Olivia's arm. "Oh, thank heavens. I feel so much better!"

  "If you girls will excuse us," Jennifer's mother said, drawing Cornelia with her.

  Try as she might, Amber couldn't think of a graceful way to follow them. She was stuck, on guard, waiting for something bad to happen.

  Olivia peered at Jennifer's hand. Lifting it into her own, she said, "What a gorgeous ring. Is that four carats?"

  The other young woman shook her head sheepishly. "Five. David really shouldn't have, I know."

  "But aren't you glad he did?" Olivia asked.

  The two women laughed as if they were old friends. Turning to Amber, Olivia said, "I understand you and Tripp haven't set a date yet."

  Keeping her voice carefully controlled, her expression schooled, Amber said, "No, we haven't."

  "Your engagement came about rather suddenly, didn't it?"

  Amber was trying to decide how to respond when Jennifer said, "A whirlwind romance? How romantic."

  Amber could have hugged her.

  "I couldn't help noticing that you're not wearing an engagement ring," Olivia said. "You really should insist on one. Without it, the engagement seems so, what's the word? Arranged, don't you think?"

  Amber squeezed her wineglass so hard it was a miracle the stem didn't snap in her hand. She was so busy seething, she didn't notice the group of doctors slowly making their way toward her.

  Jennifer didn't seem to notice, either. "What do you mean by arranged?" she asked.

  Tamping down a nervous shudder, Amber said, "I believe Olivia has a flair for the dramatic. Arranged marriages went out of vogue a few hundred years ago. And as for rings…" Amber waved a hand in front of her face, sweeping the notion aside. "Don't get me wrong. I think diamonds are lovely." She paused for quiet emphasis. "My father owns shares in a diamond mining operation. Therefore, they're not as special to me as they are to some people. Besides, Tripp has something I find far more interesting and intriguing than any diamond. You know what I mean, don't you, Olivia?"

  A few feet away, Tripp nearly choked on his champagne. Before his eyes, Olivia's expression changed. Her eyes narrowed and her lips thinned, as if she'd underestimated Amber and was only now realizing it. Any second now, a cat fight was going to break out.

  Placing his glass on a passing waiter's tray, Tripp swooped between Amber and Olivia. "Dance?"

  Amber didn't readily reply. Prying her glass from her fingers, he placed it on the tray next to his, then led her to a corner where a three-piece orchestra was playing. "You and Olivia having fun?"

  "That woman is evil. I don't know what you ever saw in her."

  "Now there's a question." He turned her into his arms.

  "I mean, how on earth could someone like you have had a relationship with someone like her? Even more mind-boggling is how she could toss you aside for someone like Derek Spencer."

  Nudging her into a slow dance, he said, "First of all, it hardly lasted long enough to qualify as a relationship. And I'm the one who ended it."

  "You did?" He could feel the smile vibrating through her. "Of course you did."

  He spread his hand wide at her back, drawing her closer.

  "I don't think your former fiancée likes me. Can you imagine that?"

  Her wry humor worked over him like moonlight. Tripp almost smiled. He glanced across the room where Olivia was talking to Derek, their heads bent close. "You put her in her place. In her place isn't where Olivia Babcock likes to be."

  "Thanks for the recap."

  "Any time. You realize she's going to have to get even."

  Even as she missed a step, and her mouth dropped open, something went warm inside him.

  "Do you think it could hurt your chances with the medical practice?"

  "Perkins just told me he's impressed with my work ethic."

  She relaxed by degrees. "He's no fool."

  Tripp was becoming accustomed to the zing that went through him every time he and Amber were together, but he wasn't accustomed to such ready praise. It went straight to his head. He drew her closer, letting the music set the pace, letting the burn deep inside him set the mood.

  He hadn't expected to enjoy himself tonight. He would have been a lot more comfortable if he could lose his jacket, loosen his tie and roll up his sleeves. All things considered, the evening had been much more pleasant than he'd anticipated. It had a lot to do with the stimulating conversations he'd had with Montgomery Perkins and his sons. Not all rich people were shallow or superficial. Oh, all three of the Perkins men were blue bloods through and through. And all three dropped names of influential colleagues and their prestigious alma maters as if they expected Tripp to be impressed. He was a hell of a lot more impressed by how much they cared. About their chosen professions. About other people and about each other.

  There was more to his enjoyment of the evening than stimulating conversations. It had to do with Amber. It was strange. His brain insisted nothing had changed between them, but his body begged to differ. He kept thinking about that damn room they were sharing. Room, hell. He kept thinking about that bed. Every time it happened, a change came over him, altering the rhythm of his heart, heating his blood, sending it chugging, thick and slow, to a part of him that was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.

  He was almost convinced it was all in his mind. Almost. But then she would look at him from across the table or across the room, and he didn't know what to think.

  As the orchestra moved into another song, Tripp and Amber moved with it. Out of the blue, he dipped her, and she yelped in surprise. All around them, people turned to look. On her feet once again, Amber laughed.

  Tripp couldn't
take his eyes off her mouth.

  She whispered, "I think Cornelia and Montgomery are pleased with the amorous attention one of their candidates is paying to his fiancée."

  "Pretend fiancée, you mean."

  She reached up with one hand, laying a finger against a vein pulsing in his neck. "Know what I think?"

  He waited.

  "I think that not all of it is pretend. And I think you know that as well as I."

  A dozen denials raced through Tripp's mind, but only one sensation took hold deep in his body. He'd been aware of her curves tucked up close to his body the way all men were aware of all women in such close proximity. His body wasn't reacting to just any woman. All evening long he'd felt the undercurrent in the air. He'd lost track of how many times he'd reminded himself that he and Amber were friends. Just friends. All evening long he'd told himself it was just a simple case of loneliness, of sleeping alone for too long. He'd busied himself with the reason they'd flown to Mississippi, and he'd done his best to ignore the attraction.

  Maybe he'd had too much champagne. Or maybe there was another explanation for the desire pouring through him. He drew far enough away to look into Amber's eyes.

  "Be careful what you offer, Amber."

  Her eyes were large and green and a hell of a lot more seductive than a friend's had any business being. "I know what I'm doing, Tripp."

  The orchestra music faded into the background. His feet froze to the floor. All around him, couples danced on. He stood with Amber in the center of the dance floor, trying to resist her, all the while drawing her closer.

  She looked at him, as if she knew exactly what he was thinking. As if a need had been building in her all day, too. As if she knew there was only one way to satisfy it.

  "Jennifer and David are leaving," she whispered. "That means we can, too." She stepped out of his arms. "Shall we?"

  They said their goodbyes to Montgomery and Cornelia, Jennifer and David, and half a dozen other people they'd just met. Walking toward the exit, Amber tucked her hand in the crook of Tripp's arm. "Making a grand exit is just as important as making a grand entrance."