The Trophy Wife

by Sandra Steffen

  She poked a finger into his chest hard enough to rival the pain in his foot. "Philip happens to already be engaged. To my friend, Claire."

  "Then why did you bring him with you?"

  "To prove a point, you big lummox. I can take care of myself. None of those men can keep me safe any more than you can." At his dumbfounded expression, she said, "That's right. You can't keep me safe. And guess what? I can't keep you safe, either. Almost twenty years ago, my brother was killed riding his bike in the safest neighborhood in the country. Tragedy can happen anywhere, and does, all right?"

  "You don't understand, Amber."

  "Oh, don't you dare tell me that. I understand plenty, no thanks to you. You closed yourself off to me and any explanations as to your peculiar behavior."

  "Pecu—"

  "I'm not finished. You can refuse to work with me. You can even refuse to see me. But you can't keep me safe. And since we're on the subject, I've had it with trying to earn people's love and acceptance. From now on, I'm going to do what I want. I've received more satisfaction volunteering in the clinic these past two weeks than I've received doing anything my entire life." She paused a moment. "Well, almost anything. What do you say about that?"

  He captured her hand before she poked a hole through his chest. "I say that for a pampered heiress, you have a lot of spunk."

  The eyes she raised to his were big and green and watery, her face, suddenly pale. Her lips quivered, and before he understood the reason, she said, "Go to hell, Tripp," then spun around and rushed away from him.

  He had to hurry, limping, to catch up. "Amber, wait."

  She shook off his hand, but at least she came to a stop. "I suppose I should thank you."

  He noticed she didn't, though. "For what?"

  Her eyes on something in the distance, she said, "I've discovered what true love is this summer." Her chin went up huffily. "Guess there's no accounting for taste after all."

  Tripp figured he had that coming, and then some. "I could thank you, too."

  "What for, pray tell?"

  He gestured to the extravaganza. "For this. And for the grant. I've applied for a dozen others. And I received an interesting phone call from Montgomery Perkins." The older doctor had pledged an obscene amount of money, which Tripp had accepted graciously. But that wasn't what he was talking about. "It seems a waiter at the restaurant in Mississippi saw us leave the rehearsal dinner. He told Cornelia that I never laid a hand on Derek Spencer. Perkins called Spencer on the carpet over it. To make a long story short, Spencer's position has been revoked. He'll be lucky to get a job changing bedpans. Montgomery offered the position to me."

  Amber's mouth dropped open, her eyes large as she whispered, "What did you tell him?"

  "I turned him down."

  "But—"

  "I don't want to move to Santa Rosa."

  "Why not?"

  He shrugged. "Until about two minutes ago, I didn't know. Now I know. It's because you aren't there."

  For a moment, he thought she was softening. But then her back and shoulders straightened. "I don't like what I do for a living. I only went into it to try to win my mother's approval, and I suppose in a sense, my father's, too. Well, I'm not going to do that anymore."

  Tripp was still awestruck about his revelation concerning his feelings for her, and was trying to understand what she was trying to tell him. "What do you want to do, Amber?"

  "I'm thinking about going back to school. Maybe I'll become a nurse practitioner, or perhaps a doctor. And you can't stop me. One way or another I'm going to do my life's work, maybe right here in Ukiah." She glanced at him, and then quickly away. "Well?" she finally whispered. "Aren't you going to try to talk me out of it?"

  "I'd be wasting my breath."

  She looked surprised, but not as surprised as she looked when he said, "I guess there's only one solution."

  Her eyebrows drew down in consternation.

  And he continued. "It looks as if you're going to make my life miserable one way or another. You might as well marry me."

  She did a double take. "What?"

  "I said I love you."

  "No you didn't. That's not what you said at all."

  He felt the strangest urge to grin. "It's what I should have said weeks ago."

  "Really? You do? Love me, I mean?"

  "I love you. I think I have since the beginning. Not when we were kids. The more recent beginning. I love you, and don't think that doesn't scare the hell out of me. But letting you walk out of my life scares me even more. So what do you think? And in case you're considering saying no, you should know that I've learned a thing or two this summer, too."

  "What have you learned, Tripp?"

  "I've learned not to take no for an answer." He touched his forehead to hers. "You were a great teacher. Now, what do you say?"

  Amber didn't readily reply. She'd received four marriage proposals. This one wasn't the most romantic or the most original. It wasn't even the most eloquent. But it was the most heartfelt, and by far the most sincere. "You really love me?"

  He nodded. "I truly love you. If you ask me to prove it, I'll spend the rest of my life doing just that." Slowly, he went down on one knee. Taking her hand in his, he looked up at her. "A woman like you deserves this done right."

  "A woman like me?"

  "Don't interrupt."

  "My, you're bossy."

  Under his breath, he muttered something about a pot calling the kettle black. She was more interested in what was coming next.

  "You're perfect for me, Amber, inventive when I'm too much by the book, boisterous when I'm too serious, mouthy, well, most of the time. The truth is, I love that about you. I love most everything about you. Will you marry me, and live with me, and work with me if that's what you want to do? And love me? And have a family with me?"

  Tears filled her eyes and her throat, but she nodded.

  "Is that a yes?"

  She wanted to smile, but couldn't. "Yes. This is a yes. To everything. I love you, Tripp."

  He closed his eyes, and she wondered if he'd ever heard those words before. Slowly, he rose to his feet, and finally, he lowered his face to hers. Their lips met for the first time in two weeks. It felt like the first time ever. His mouth opened, hers softened. Breaths mingled, tongues touched, hearts joined.

  It was heaven.

  They were so different, physically. His lips were drier than hers, his body lean where hers was lush, flat where hers was curved, hard where hers wasn't. But inside, they shared the same beliefs, desires and philosophies. Amber loved that about him, but she loved the physical differences, too. They were perfectly delightful differences. She doubted she would ever tire of exploring them.

  Music played in the background, and since the tree they were hiding behind didn't offer much privacy, they reined in their desire and kept the passion below the surface, where it simmered, waiting.

  Waiting.

  He loved her. Amber had hoped and prayed it was so. Her prayers had been answered.

  "When?" he asked when the kiss finally broke.

  Her mind swam as she tried to make sense of the question. "Pardon me?"

  Tripp pulled her close to his side, an arm going around her waist. In the process, he got an eyeful of cleavage. She looked up at him and caught him looking. He had to clear his throat in order to speak. "When would you like to marry me?"

  Amber smiled smugly. Tripp Calhoun wasn't a patient man. Looking out at the sky, now bright with stars and moonlight, she fit herself more comfortably in the crook under his arm. "How about tonight?" she asked.

  He faced her. "You mean elope?" He was already shaking his head when he said, "A woman like you deserves a proper wedding."

  She thought about the fairy-tale wedding she'd dreamed of all her life. In it, she'd imagined herself wearing a flowing white, beaded gown with a ten-foot train and a veil over her face. In her dreams, Emily was there, and her mother and father were deeply in love.

  Amber
gazed up at Tripp. This was reality. Suddenly, what mattered most was that she and Tripp were deeply in love. Tears filled her eyes. "I want to marry you. Tonight. Let's go to Vegas."

  A smile of wonder found its way to his face. He reached for her hand. "Far be it from me to keep the lady from what she wants."

  * * *

  Two and a half hours later, Tripp placed a steadying hand on Amber's elbow. "You all right, Mrs. Calhoun?"

  Still slightly groggy from her airsickness medicine, Amber nodded and peered at her dime-store wedding ring. "I'm wonderful."

  "I'll buy you a decent ring," Tripp said, his voice husky with emotion. "Something with amber, or pearls, or anything you want."

  "I have everything I want."

  Hand in hand, they started down the steps of the bright pink wedding chapel where they'd just exchanged their vows and professed to love and cherish each other until death. Maybe even longer. In Amber's free hand, she carried the marriage certificate. In Tripp's was a Polaroid snapshot of him in his expensive black suit and her in her hussy-red dress with the slit up to here and the bodice down to there.

  "You're a beautiful bride," he said.

  "Thank you," she answered. She felt beautiful, and it had nothing to do with her dress.

  A wolf whistle rent the air. From a car with its top down, a man called, "That's some trophy you got yourself, buddy."

  "This isn't a trophy!" Tripp called. "This is my wife!"

  He looked deep into Amber's eyes. It was true. He had something far better than a trophy wife. He had a woman as strong and stubborn as he was, a woman who was his equal.

  Together, they started down the wide sidewalk. Amber had never felt so happy. Perhaps some day the remaining unsettling issues, such as her relationship with her mother, and Emily's disappearance, would be resolved. She prayed they would, but until then, and for always, she had the man she loved at her side. And he had her.

  After all, love was the greatest trophy of all.

  Special thanks and acknowledgment are given to Sandra Steffen for her contribution to THE COLTONS series.

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-8417-7

  THE TROPHY WIFE

  Copyright © 2001 by Harlequin Books S.A.

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Silhouette Books, 300 East 42nd Street, New York, NY 10017 U.S.A.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

  This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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  Table of Contents

  About the Author

  One

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  Three

  Four

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  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

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  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen