Hired Husband

by Rebecca Brandewyne

  Her heart sank at the realization. Blinking back her tears, she almost ran up the stairs after him to tell him she had changed her mind, that he should take her belongings to his own bedroom. But determinedly, she fought the wild impulse. Sex with Nick had been wonderful. She had not lied about that. But that’s all it had been, just sex. Beyond desire and gratitude, he had no feelings for her, and if she did for him, well, then she must strive to get them under control before she wound up being hurt, her heart broken again.

  Still, the fact that she would not be sleeping with Nick, cradled in his warm embrace at night, depressed Caroline. It was with a heavy sigh that she slowly trudged upstairs to begin putting away her clothes and other possessions.

  Down the hall in his own room, Nick flung himself down despondently onto his bed. His hands beneath his head, he stared up at the ceiling unseeingly. All he had thought about all day was making love to Caroline again. She was his wife, damn it! He had every right to sleep with her! And while he knew that her reasons for refusing him were valid, he couldn’t help but wonder if she had told him the truth.

  What single woman these days wasn’t on some form of birth control? There were any number of methods available. And if she truly weren’t, then why in the hell hadn’t she mentioned that fact before letting him make love to her in their cabin at Maplewood Lodge? Nick could only think Caroline had lied to him, that this was her way of politely distancing herself from him, that perhaps she had only been amusing herself with him at the cabin.

  Maybe when they had returned to Minneapolis, she had begun to have second thoughts, to think he wasn’t good enough for her—or, more likely, for her family. After all, what was he, in reality, but a hired husband? Bought and paid for by the Fortunes so he wouldn’t be deported before Kate’s secret youth formula could be brought to fruition. Hell. If not for that, Nick would be willing to bet that Caroline would never have agreed to become his wife. He wouldn’t have cared—except that like a fool, he had gone and fallen for his bride. Fallen like the proverbial ton of bricks.

  She was everything he had ever wanted in a woman: beautiful, intelligent, creative and sophisticated—but without the hard edge that characterized a lot of successful women. Instead, she had a sweetness and shyness about her that gave her a softly feminine appeal. The more he had been around her, the more he had come to realize that. Deep down inside, she was terribly vulnerable.

  She had let him close to her for a moment. Now, like a cautious little hermit crab, she had retreated back into her shell. But he could win her back, Nick thought, if he was careful and patient. Because there was no way he was going to lose his wife. No matter what she believed, a divorce was totally out of the question.

  If necessary, to hold on to her, he was willing to have trouble with the INS for years!

  Thirteen

  In fact, trouble with the INS was precisely what Nick encountered first thing Monday morning. Two immigration agents were waiting for him in his administrative office off the laboratory at Fortune Cosmetics. They had made themselves comfortable in the chairs before his desk, but at his entrance, they stood, flipping out their leather identification wallets.

  “Dr. Valkov? Lyndon Howard, Immigration and Naturalization Service. And this is Brody Sheffield. We’d like to speak with you if we may.”

  “Of course, gentlemen,” Nick said, shaking their hands. “Won’t you please be seated?”

  They resumed the same chairs they had vacated just moments before. Howard, who was obviously the senior agent, cleared his throat. Then, reaching into the inside pocket of his suit jacket, he produced a pair of glasses and an envelope, from which he removed a letter. Putting on the bifocals, he glanced down at the missive.

  “Dr. Valkov, I believe you received a copy of this letter some days ago from the INS, in which you were instructed to appear at our office here locally to surrender your green card and undergo deportation procedures, did you not?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “Then…may I inquire as to why you did not follow our instructions?”

  “Because I was getting married at the time,” Nick explained affably, although his eyes were alert and wary. “And according to my legal counsel, that makes it impossible for you to deport me, no matter how much you may wish to do so.”

  “That’s not exactly true, Dr. Valkov—as I’m sure your lawyer must also have informed you. You see, if the INS has reason to believe your marriage is one of convenience, in name only, for the sole sake of preventing your deportation, we can declare it invalid and eject you from the United States, anyway.”

  “Yes, I understand that. However, what you must understand is that my wife and I had been seeing each other for some time and had planned to be married sometime later this year—a rather large wedding with all the trimmings, to which we were both very much looking forward. I’m afraid your letter was most upsetting to her, since as a result, we were compelled to get married rather hastily at the courthouse instead.”

  “Indeed?” Howard’s tone indicated his skepticism. “Quite a nice story, Dr. Valkov. I’m sure you won’t have any objections to us checking it out.”

  “Not at all. In fact, if you’d like, I can have my wife join us right now.”

  “Please do.”

  Picking up the receiver of the telephone on his desk, Nick punched in Caroline’s extension number. “Sweetheart? It’s me. Are you terribly busy at the moment? Because I have a couple of INS agents sitting in my office, and they’d like to talk to you. So I’d really appreciate if you’d join us. Great. I’ll see you shortly, then.” He hung up, then turned back to Howard and Sheffield. “She’s on her way down.”

  “Fine. In the meantime, I hope you won’t mind answering some questions for us?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Good. Take notes, Brody,” Howard directed his partner. “Now, Dr. Valkov, how did you meet your wife?”

  “Through our work here at Fortune Cosmetics. She’s the vice president of marketing. We…ah…literally ran into each other one day in a corridor while we were on our way to a meeting. I was attracted to her. I hoped she might feel the same way toward me, and I offered to cook dinner for her one evening.”

  “And did she accept your invitation?”

  “She did. I drove her out to my house on the lake, where I prepared a simple supper consisting of a salad, French bread and beef Stroganoff. Afterward, we shared a glass of wine and listened to music. Tchaikovsky, as I recall.”

  “And how long ago did all this take place?”

  “Oh, I don’t know for sure. Quite some time ago, though, several months at least,” Nick lied.

  “And you’ve been seeing her steadily since then?”

  “That’s right.”

  “And when did you become engaged?”

  “Shortly before I received your letter, actually. Ah, Caro, there you are, sweetheart.” Rising from the chair, Nick came around his desk to take her in his arms and kiss her lightly on the mouth. “This is Mr. Howard and Mr. Sheffield—from the INS. Gentlemen, this is my wife, Caroline Fortune Valkov.”

  “Fortune!” Sheffield exclaimed, his eyes widening as he glanced anxiously at his superior, wondering abruptly if they had, after all, made a mistake.

  “Yes, that’s right,” Caroline confirmed coolly as she shook hands with the two men. “I’m Kate Fortune’s eldest granddaughter and—as I’m sure Nick’s told you—the vice president of marketing here at Fortune Cosmetics.” Normally, all this was not information she readily volunteered. Under the circumstances, however, she felt it prudent to impress the agents with her family and wealth. By wedding Nick to prevent his deportation, she had technically broken the law and could be fined at the very least.

  “I’m sorry if we’ve interrupted your schedule, Mrs. Valkov. However, I’m sure you understand our need to ask you a few questions. If you’d please be seated.” Howard motioned toward the chairs.

  “Yes, of course.” Crossing the floor, Caroline took a s
eat as close to Nick as possible, her pulse racing, even though she and Nick had rehearsed this scene several times.

  She wished her hair were up in a French twist, that she had her glasses to hide behind, that she were dressed in a tailored Chanel suit instead of the jazzy Versace ensemble her sister Allie had talked her into buying during a shopping trip once and that Nick had insisted on her wearing today. She hadn’t an inkling of the fact that she looked as good, if not better, than Cindy Crawford on a great day—and that despite their suspicions, the two INS agents were already sitting there thinking that with her looks and money, Nick would have been out of his mind not to have married her.

  Howard proceeded with the interview, asking Caroline several of the same questions he had already asked Nick. Much to her relief, she knew from Nick’s encouraging smile that she was doing fine, that she hadn’t made any mistakes in her half truths.

  “Now, Mrs. Valkov, forgive me for prying into such a personal matter, but I have to ask this next question because generally in the case of a couple wedding merely to prevent the deportation of one of them, the marriage is in name only, so a quick annulment can be obtained later. So, will you tell me please, has your marriage been consummated?”

  Caroline could feel the crimson heat that flamed in her cheeks at that. Not trusting herself to speak, she nodded, embarrassed—wondering, stricken, if this information would somehow now get back to her grandmother and father.

  “In fact, we just returned from our honeymoon,” Nick announced blandly. “We spent a week at Maplewood Lodge, just across the Canadian border. I can give you the address and telephone number if you’d like to check that out, too. They’ll remember us, I’m sure. We had the honeymoon cabin—and our furnace broke down the last night we were there.”

  “Yes, thank you, I would appreciate having that information,” Howard replied as he got to his feet. “However, I don’t think there’ll be a problem with your marriage. If we need anything further, we’ll be in touch.”

  “You know where to find us.” Nick handed to Howard a slip of paper containing the address and telephone number of Maplewood Lodge. “Oh, and one more thing. I don’t know how or where you got the impression that I was ever an agent for the KGB. I’m a chemist—and only a chemist. That’s all I’ve ever been. Think about it. If I really were a spy for Russia, why would I be wasting my time here at a cosmetics company, for pity’s sake? Do you really believe I’m hiding transmitters in lipstick tubes? Miniature cameras in compacts? That I’m talking to Moscow on a shoe phone? Maybe you think I call Caro ‘Ninety-nine,’ too? Because if you do, I’d say you’ve been watching too many old reruns of Get Smart.”

  Sheffield chuckled, but cut the sound off immediately at a sharp, annoyed glance from Howard. “It may be a joke to you, Dr. Valkov, but we Americans take our security seriously. You newlyweds have a nice day, now.”

  Once the two men had gone, Caroline rose to go to Nick’s side, her face anxious as she laid one hand upon his arm. “Do you really think they believed us? That Mr. Howard spoke the truth about there not being any trouble about our marriage?”

  “I don’t know. But they’ll have one hell of a time trying to prove us liars—and they know it. You all but told them they’d be taking on the entire Fortune family and empire, Caro. That would be a daunting prospect to most anybody, especially here in the Twin Cities. Thank you, sweetheart.” Nick bent his head and kissed her.

  When she didn’t at first protest or pull away, he increased the pressure of his mouth upon hers, his tongue compelling her lips to open, insinuating itself inside. Caroline’s mouth clung to his as a rush of desire surged through her. He tasted of hot, black morning coffee and Player’s cigarettes, things she had come to associate with him. He smelled of soap and cologne and cigarette smoke. His tongue twisted and twined with her own. His hands snarled in her thick, shiny mass of sable hair.

  As he pulled her close, she could feel the strength and hardness of his arousal pressed against her. In moments, he would be locking his office door, laying her down upon his sofa or the floor. And she wanted that. But she must not give in to temptation.

  “Nick…Nick, no…” she murmured, resolutely pushing herself away from him, placing her trembling hands against his broad chest to hold him at bay. “I…I have to get back to work, and so do you. My coming down here to deal with the INS has already wreaked havoc on my schedule. Mary had to cancel an appointment I had and reschedule another one. Besides, don’t you think the rumor mills are already working overtime as it is?”

  “Yeah, I suppose so.” Reluctantly, he released her, smiling ruefully—although his dark eyes smoldered like twin embers as they raked her.

  She was right. In their absence, the gossip had flown thick and fast at Fortune Cosmetics. Both Caroline and Nick had known that when they had walked into the office building earlier this morning. People had eyed them speculatively everywhere: in the parking garage, the elevator, the corridors. More than one person had called, “Hey, I heard you two got married,” clearly hoping to be enlightened with the truth.

  Nick had answered nobody, merely grinned like the proverbial cat that had swallowed the canary, while Caroline had blushed with embarrassment that she should once more be an object of gossip at the company.

  “Oh, I almost forgot.” She turned back from the door as she was leaving his office. “Grandmother wants us to have lunch with her in her office at noon. I guess we should probably tell her about the INS visit.”

  “Yeah, we should—because although they seem satisfied at the moment, you never know. They may be back.”

  “I certainly hope not,” Caro declared fervently. “One interrogation was more than enough for me! See you at lunch.” She strode from his office, haunted by the strange sensation that Nick was watching her walk away—and admiring the sway of her backside.

  She would not look back over her shoulder, she told herself sternly. She would not.

  He was leaning against the doorjamb of his office, his hands shoved into his trouser pockets, his gaze such that anyone glancing at him must have known what he was thinking as he watched her. When she peeked back over her shoulder at him, he grinned wickedly, his eyes dancing. Then he called out something to her in Russian. Caroline didn’t know what—but she was sure it had been quite naughty.

  She devoutly hoped no one in the laboratory spoke Russian.

  Fourteen

  Caroline and Nick’s days soon settled into a pattern. They rose early, taking turns preparing breakfast for each other, which they lingered over, reading the newspaper and watching CNN. Then, in the Mercedes-Benz, he drove them to the office, insisting that there was no need for them to take two cars into the city.

  “I worry about you when the country roads are icy like this, Caro,” he declared gravely, stroking her hair lightly. “I don’t want you out on them alone, especially after dark.”

  On the days when one or both of them worked late hours, they stayed overnight in the city, in Caroline’s old apartment—where Nick now had as many clothes hanging in the closets as she did. Otherwise, they returned home to his house on the lake, which she had come to adore and to which she had, here and there, added little touches of her own, so it was not so masculine as before. She and Nick usually wound up fixing supper together, after which they played cards or board games or listened to music or read aloud to each other by the fire in the living room. To Caroline’s amazement, Nick loved the classics and poetry as much as she did.

  “Why should you find that surprising?” he asked when she mentioned it.

  “Well, because most people today don’t seem to read the classics much anymore—and poetry hardly at all.”

  “Then they don’t know what they’re missing, do they? Some of the most beautiful ideas in the world are in those books, expressed in language that has a rhythm and music—a soul—all its own. What shall we have tonight? Wordsworth or Tennyson?”

  “Tennyson, please. Idylls of the King.”

&nbs
p; So he read to her in his deep, rich voice, while she sat before the fire and sipped her wine and allowed herself to be transported to another time, another place.

  At the office, they continued their work on the secret youth formula, Caroline finalizing the details of the marketing campaign, Nick completing his tests in the laboratory. Sometimes, it seemed they were the only two people left in the Fortune Cosmetics building after five o’clock. Whenever that happened, more often than not, Nick would appear in her office with cartons of Chinese food or Italian, which they would eat at her desk before returning to their respective jobs.

  Caroline had never been quite so happy in her life—or so despairing. Despite all her best intentions, how hard she had tried to keep her distance from Nick, to hold on to her heart, she had lost it to him. She didn’t know how she could have let such a thing happen. This was surely not what her grandmother and father had meant to occur when they had suggested she marry Nick. Yet she was ready to risk their disapproval, to defy them both, if only she believed her husband could love her, would ever come to do so.

  But there was no hope of that, Caroline thought disheartened. Nick treated her as a caring husband would his wife only because he had promised her grandmother he would do so—and he didn’t want to risk losing his job or his freedom. He didn’t want to be deported, that was all. And if he sometimes forgot himself and kissed Caroline as she were truly his wife and attempted to persuade her to share his bed again, well, that was only the physical attraction he felt toward her, the chemistry at which he was so brilliant.

  She simply had to put all this from her head, Caroline told herself sternly now. Their relationship was interfering with her work. She couldn’t concentrate on what she was supposed to be doing at Fortune Cosmetics. Twice, she had been late for meetings, and once, she had forgotten one entirely. She could only feel relief that somehow her grandmother hadn’t learned about the sloppiness of her schedule lately.