The Best Bride

by Susan Mallery

  She blinked at him uncomprehendingly. He took advantage of her confusion and placed his arm around her shoulders again. “The thing is,” he told her, “you’ve never given me a chance. I’m not nearly as bad as you think I am. Or maybe I am and that’s what tempts you the most. One drink. What would it hurt?”

  As he spoke, he led her toward his midnight blue Mercedes convertible. It was one of the perks of his assignment. Of course, a flashy car wasn’t going to be much good to him if he ended up dead. A couple more weeks and the job would be finished. Then he could go back to his regular life and Nick Archer would be no more.

  He paused in front of the passenger side and pulled out his keys from his pants pocket.

  Hannah stared at the car. “Is it stolen?”

  “If I say no, will you say yes?”

  “Is it?”

  He grinned. “I’ve got the title in the glove box. Want to check it out?”

  He opened the door and motioned to the pale gray leather seat. He fully expected Hannah to slap him across the face, call him several obscene names and stalk back to her sensible sedan parked on the other side of the lot. He even stiffened in anticipation of the blow.

  The blow came in a completely different form.

  Shock. Mind-numbing shock when she muttered, “I’m insane,” and slipped inside his car.

  Nick carefully closed the passenger door and swore under his breath. Just his luck. The ice queen decided to thaw the day he had to get out of town.

  * * *

  Hannah touched her tongue to the rim of her glass and let the salt dissolve in her mouth. With a quick prayer that she wouldn’t choke—or worse—she picked up the shot of tequila sitting next to her margarita glass and downed it in one long, burning swallow.

  Fire ripped through her. She gasped out loud but didn’t cough, then blinked back the tears that sprang to her eyes. Better, she thought, relieved as the fire turned to an almost comfortable heat.

  “You all right?” Nick asked, frowning faintly.

  “Fine,” she managed to reply, her voice only slightly raspy from the alcohol.

  He leaned back against the red booth seat. “You win this round, Hannah. I never guessed you did shooters.”

  She shrugged as if to say there was a lot about her he didn’t know. Actually, he didn’t know anything about her, but he had been right about the shooters. She’d never had one before tonight. And probably wouldn’t again, she reflected as a wave of alcohol rushed to her brain and made the room tilt slightly. Normally she limited herself to a single drink. White wine, or maybe a spritzer. If it was a special occasion, she might indulge in a glass of champagne. Not today. She was on her second margarita and had ordered extra shots with both.

  What was the phrase? Dutch courage? She needed her share of that, plus as much as she could get from any other source that offered it. If she did what she was thinking, it was going to take every ounce of bravery she’d ever had. If she didn’t, she was going to break an old woman’s heart. Talk about being between a rock and a hard place. Sometimes life wasn’t fair.

  The cocktail waitress strolled by. “Can I get you two something else?”

  She asked the question of both of them, but her attention clearly focused on Nick. Hannah couldn’t blame the woman. She often had trouble noticing anyone else when he was around. It was as if the whole world was dark and Nick was the only light. The fact that the waitress noticed, too, only meant the other woman had good taste.

  Hannah resisted the urge to drop her head to her hands and moan. She was more drunk than she realized if she’d started thinking positive things about Nick Archer. He was nothing more than a common criminal. Oh, he hadn’t been arrested for anything…at least, none of the charges had stuck. He had a clean record. But she knew the type. He was smooth. Too smooth for someone like her.

  “Hannah?” Nick motioned to her half-empty glass.

  She waved him off and he dismissed the waitress. The busty blonde gave him a quick smile. Funny, he didn’t seem to notice.

  “But she’s beautiful,” Hannah blurted out, then covered her mouth too late to hold in the words.

  Nick frowned. That was twice in as many minutes. She liked how his eyebrows drew so close together. His forehead got all wrinkly, then when he relaxed, it smoothed out again.

  “Who’s beautiful?” he asked.

  She’d almost forgotten her statement, so it took her a second to figure out what he was asking. “The waitress.”

  He didn’t even look over toward the bar to find the woman in question. “If you say so.”

  “You didn’t think she was pretty?”

  “I didn’t notice.”

  “Sure.”

  Boy, next he would be telling her about some oceanfront property he had in Arizona. All he needed was the Big One to push California into the ocean. Only California wouldn’t fall into the ocean during an earthquake. The tectonic plates were pushing north. Eventually, Los Angeles and San Francisco would be within commuting distance. It would only take a couple million years to accomplish.

  “I liked geography,” she said. “So you can keep your oceanfront property.”

  “Excuse me?”

  He looked puzzled. Genuinely flummoxed. Hannah smiled. At least, it felt like she was smiling. It was hard to tell. Her lips were numb. Flummoxed. She repeated the word in her mind. It was a good word with a nice sound. She should try to work it into a sentence more often.

  “Hannah?”

  She glanced at Nick. He was staring at her. “What?”

  “What do you mean ‘what?’ Why are you talking about geography?”

  “I’m not.”

  “But you said…” He shook his head. “You’re drunk. I can’t believe it. On a margarita and a half. Talk about a lightweight.”

  “I had shooters,” she reminded him, then wondered if she should protest his statement that she was drunk. Of course she was. And there was that pesky numb feeling creeping from her lips to her cheeks. “It’s your fault,” she muttered.

  “Mine? Why?”

  “You’re always there.” She took another sip of her drink. “Talking to me. Asking me out. Why’d you have to do that?”

  “Maybe I like you.”

  “Oh, sure.” He liked her. Yeah, right. No doubt. Average-looking female police officers were every man’s fantasy. She must get a hundred offers a day.

  “You don’t believe me.” It wasn’t a question.

  “Why should I?”

  His mouth curved into a slow smile. She felt the impact all the way down to her toes. He was sinfully handsome with big eyes the color of midnight blue. Thick lashes, sort of a medium brown and tipped with gold. Gold blond hair, layered and just to the top of his collar. Broad shoulders, great body, at least what she’d been able to see of it under his expensive suits. Despite being a criminal, Nick dressed like a corporate executive. He was funny, although she always tried hard not to laugh at his jokes. He was a smooth talker, charming and way out of her league. She knew better than to believe anything he might try to tell her.

  He leaned forward and touched the back of her hand. It was just one finger barely stroking her skin. Her cheeks were completely numb, she couldn’t feel her legs at all, yet that single touch burned through her like a laser through steel.

  She told herself to pull away, or at least to slap him real hard. She did nothing but stare at his finger, at his hand, at their hands so close together. Then her chest got tight and she had to remind herself to breathe.

  “What’s wrong, Hannah?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Bull. I know you, and something’s wrong.”

  The assurance in his voice made her nervous. She withdrew her hand to her lap and took another sip of the margarita. Then she glanced around the room and tried to see if anyone she knew was in the bar. It wasn’t likely. The cops at the station had their own hangout and it wasn’t this trendy beachfront establishment. She and Nick were in a back corner booth with a vi
ew of the ocean to her right. The sun was just setting, sending shards of yellow and gold light across the calm sea. It was a picture-perfect moment, complete with the handsome, albeit slightly blurry escort.

  “You don’t know me at all,” she said.

  “I know that you don’t trust me, so why’d you accept my invitation for a drink?”

  “Maybe your charm won me over.”

  He laughed out loud. The pleasant sound brought a smile to her lips. “Try again,” he said.

  He wasn’t the only thing that was blurry, she realized. The edges of the room were starting to fold in on themselves. When was the last time she’d been this drunk? Once, at a friend’s wedding, she recalled hazily, trying to remember exactly when. Maybe five years ago.

  Why had she come out with Nick? She ignored the shifting room and thought about his question. Because he’d asked her out about twice a week for a year and every single time she’d wanted to say yes.

  It was dumb for a woman like her to be attracted to a man like him. It wasn’t just that he was so much better-looking, or even that he was a criminal and she was a cop. It was that Nick lived life on a completely different level than she did. He got into the moment while she walked around with her head down. He was spontaneous laughter, spontaneous fun, spontaneous sex—oops, where had that thought come from?—while she planned everything out. He joked and teased while she kept the world at bay.

  “I needed a break,” she said at last, mostly because it was true.

  “Something tells me that’s just an excuse. You’re using me to put off something you don’t want to do.”

  Her head snapped up. Big mistake. The slight blurring became a wild spinning. Even her seat seemed to be moving. Then she sucked in some air and it all slowed to a manageable level.

  “Maybe,” she admitted.

  Her hands were once again on the table. He reached across and grabbed one. His thumb brushed against the back of her fingers. It felt nice.

  “I need a husband,” she blurted out.

  To his credit, Nick didn’t withdraw, or even stiffen. His thumb kept moving back and forth, back and forth. A lethargic heat crept up her arm. His gaze continued to hold hers, the half smile still hovering at the corners of his mouth. Maybe he hadn’t heard her. Maybe she hadn’t actually said it out loud.

  “A husband?” he asked calmly. “The usual reason?”

  “Usual reason? What’s that?” She thought for a second. “Oh. Oh! Ah, no, not that. I mean, I’m not pregnant.”

  Embarrassment flooded her and she gulped the rest of her drink. She thought about flagging down the waitress for another, then decided she was going to be sick enough in the morning as it was. Besides, Nick was still on his first beer and he’d barely touched it at all.

  “Good.”

  She blinked. What were they talking about? “Good what?”

  “I’m glad you’re not pregnant.”

  “Me, too. Oh, the husband thing.” She waved her free hand. “I have some family business. It requires me to be married for a few days. I don’t know. Maybe not. Maybe I should just come clean. But she’s so old. What if the shock kills her?” She stared at him earnestly. “I really wouldn’t want that to happen. I haven’t actually even met her, but I want to. Do you think she’ll understand?”

  “Yes.”

  She had a brief moment of clarity. “You don’t have a clue as to what I’m talking about, do you?”

  “Nope. But I like the sound of your voice, so just keep talking.”

  She realized he was still stroking her fingers with his thumb. Regretfully, she pulled free of the seductive contact. If only it was true. If only Nick Archer really did think she was a hot babe.

  Hannah giggled. She was athletic, strong, and she wore a pistol when she went to work. Somehow she didn’t think she fitted the definition of the word babe.

  He toyed with her because it amused him and probably because she hadn’t fallen at his feet the first time she’d seen him. She would have fallen, but she’d already been sitting down, so it had been easy to pretend to be calm.

  “You could hire a husband,” he said. “If it’s only temporary.”

  “Oh, it is. Just for a few days. Believe me, I’ve thought about it and I could phone…” She glared at him. “You’re laughing at me.”

  “Only a little. So what kind of guy would you ask for, Hannah? Who’s your ideal man?”

  The numbness spread up her face, although strangely enough, she could actually feel her eyelashes.

  Him. He was perfect, at least physically. But she wasn’t about to say that. She would have to be a whole lot drunker than this to confess that little secret to Nick.

  “Someone who follows the rules,” she said.

  He winced as if she’d slapped him. “That one hurt. Are you implying I’m not a rule follower?”

  “You’re a common criminal.”

  “I might be a criminal, but I’ve never been common.” He leaned back in the booth. “How long do you need the guy for?”

  “Three or four days. Just to drive north, meet my family, then come back.”

  “Sounds simple enough. What does it pay?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  He held out both hands, palms up. “You could never phone an escort service to hire someone and we both know it. Call the interest a friendly gesture on my part.”

  “But we’re not friends,” she muttered, then cleared her throat. Nick? A temporary husband? She shuddered. It would never work.

  “How much?” he asked. When she stared at him blankly, he asked, “How much are you willing to pay?”

  “I’m not sure. I haven’t thought about money.” What was the going hourly rate for fake husbands these days? “It doesn’t matter. You’re not right for this. I’m sorry I mentioned it.”

  She started to slide out of the booth, but it was harder to move than she thought it would be. Then he placed his hand over hers and that darn heat started up again, and she didn’t want to move.

  “I’m happy to help,” he said. “I need to get out of town for a few days anyway.”

  “Oh, I’ll just bet you do. What is it this time? A real-estate deal gone wrong? Or maybe the husband of one of your women decided to take matters into his own hands.”

  Nick stared at her for a long time. Something flickered in his gaze, something dark and secretive. Then he blinked and it was gone. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he said lightly. “Face it, Hannah. Where else are you going to find a man willing to pretend to be your husband on such short notice?”

  He was right. She certainly didn’t have the skills to seduce a man into doing it, nor was there a man around. Except for Nick. Not that she was interested in seducing Nick.

  She hunched over, half expecting lightning to strike. When it didn’t, she straightened. She could do worse. At least he was gorgeous. And he thought on his feet. If anyone started asking questions, Nick would be able to ward them off. It was only for a couple of days and it wasn’t as if she was overflowing with other options.

  “I’ll pay two hundred dollars and the travel expenses,” she said, then nearly bit her tongue in her haste to call the words back. But it was too late.

  He raised his eyebrows. “I was thinking more of a trade. One weekend of husbanding for one night of—”

  She raised her hand. “Don’t say it.”

  “Passionate lovemaking,” he finished.

  She winced. “Four hundred, in cash. No touching.”

  “Let’s spend the weekend negotiating. When do you want to leave?”

  Was there really a choice? Despite all her talk, she would never have been able to call an escort service. Wasn’t bringing Nick along better than breaking an old woman’s heart? “In the morning. I want to be there on Saturday.”

  “Where is there?”

  “Northern California.”

  He held out his hand. “Do we have a deal?”

  She wished she had another shot to give h
er courage. She wished she’d never mentioned it in the first place. She wished she’d never gotten in his car.

  But wishing didn’t change anything and he was her best bet. That’s probably why she was here, having a drink with him. The power of the subconscious mind at work.

  She slipped her hand in his and they shook. The contact was electric. She expected to see smoke and fire, but there was only Nick smiling at her. Enjoying her predicament and having power over her at last.

  And he did have power. Comparing his power to the power of the subconscious mind was like comparing an eighteen-wheeler to a toy truck. She had a bad feeling she had just stepped in front of headlights and was about to be mowed down.

  Chapter Two

  Hannah stared at the front door. She didn’t want to open it. Not only because her head hurt and the thought of sunlight was enough to bring tears to her eyes, but also because she didn’t want to face the man on the other side.

  Insanity. There was no other explanation. Maybe it ran in her family. She’d been adopted, so there was no way to tell. Or maybe her blood sugar had dipped below the normal range and she’d had a brief blackout episode. Whatever the explanation, she didn’t have the guts to face him and accept what they’d agreed to do.

  He knocked again. “Hannah? Are you awake?”

  “Yes,” she whispered even though she knew he couldn’t hear her. She cleared her throat and spoke more loudly. “I’m right here. Hold on.”

  She turned the key in the dead-bolt lock and pulled open the door. Nick stood on the front step of her town house. The sunlight made her blink, as did Nick. It wasn’t fair. Even in her weakened condition—with her head pounding and her stomach rolling—he looked good. Better than good. He looked tempting.

  She was used to being impressed by his sheer male beauty. He was a California cliche´ with his blond hair, blue eyes and loose, easy stride. The well-made suits he wore only enhanced his assets. If he had any physical flaws, she’d never noticed. She’d gotten used to ignoring his good looks, his tailored clothing, his bright smile. They were meaningless trappings that merely concealed the flaws in his character. She was immune.