His 24-Hour Wife (The Hawke Brothers 2)

by Rachel Bailey

  “His wife said she was leaving because she hated being stuck on the farm. So he sold it and spent all the money on her.” His voice became flat, hard. “It didn’t matter enough that we were all living on that farm, or that my dad was working it. My grandfather sold it anyway.”

  Her heart squeezed tight. Having met his parents and brothers, she hated thinking of them in that situation. “So that was your family’s home and income gone in one swoop?”

  “Pretty much. My parents had saved a little so they used that to move to California and start fresh.”

  “And your grandfather?” she asked warily. The fact that there had been no recent photo of him was telling.

  Adam drew in a deep breath and shuddered as he released it. “After the money ran out his wife left anyway. And so he shot himself.”

  Callie found Adam’s hand and intertwined their fingers, wanting to offer as much comfort as he’d allow. After a moment’s hesitation, he squeezed her fingers back.

  “How old were you when he died?”

  “Twelve.”

  “What an awful thing for a child to go through. Especially when you’d been so close to him.” If only she could do something to take away the pain, but realistically, she knew that nothing could, except maybe time.

  “I learned something that day,” he said, sounding resolute. Determined. “You might feel like you’re in control of your life. You might think you’re on top of the challenges, the way that my grandfather did before he married. But that control can snap at any time, and you lose everything.”

  A lightbulb went off, and Callie finally had an insight into why Adam was so determined to stay in control all the time, and it only made her want to know more. Though one thing didn’t add up.

  “Why are you telling me this? You think I’m after your money like your grandfather’s wife?” She didn’t really believe he thought that way about her, but needed to hear him deny it.

  Adam shook his head abruptly. “The story wasn’t about her. It was about him. About what happens when someone like him—like me—throws caution to the wind.”

  And suddenly it all made sense. “You keep yourself locked down not because you’re less wild than your brothers, but because you’re afraid you’re the wildest of the three.”

  “Everybody always told me I was like him,” he repeated as if that explained everything.

  “That doesn’t mean you are,” she pointed out.

  “Some people go to Vegas and have a drunken one-night stand. I took it a step further and got married.”

  Everything kept coming back to that snap decision three months ago. “You weren’t the only one,” she said ruefully.

  He continued without missing a beat. “My family wanted to turn a roadside stall of homegrown flowers into their very own store. I created a national company that’s still expanding.”

  “That’s a great outcome.” The first time she met him, she’d been almost as impressed by his success as by the man himself. Almost.

  “It is.” He shrugged, as if dismissing the achievement. “But I have a tendency not to do things by halves. If I’m not careful, I get carried away. The only times that works well for me is if I take a considered, logical approach.”

  “Our wedding wasn’t logical or considered,” she conceded, and he laughed.

  “No, it wasn’t.” He blew out a long breath. “I learned something with my very first girlfriend.”

  “Is this going to be a dirty story?” she teased, hoping to lighten the mood a little.

  “I was thirteen. How dirty can it get?” he said with humor in his voice. Until he started talking again. “I was supposed to be watching my brothers after school until my parents picked us up, but I was crazy about a girl and I convinced her to sneak behind the shed and make out. Long story short, Dylan went missing on my watch and when we found him he was covered in cuts and bruises.”

  “Having met Dylan, I have a feeling he spent much of his childhood getting himself into mischief.” And probably his adulthood, too.

  “Which was even more of a reason to keep a close eye on him,” Adam said, clearly disgusted with himself. “But I was carried away and let my guard down.”

  She tried to imagine a thirteen-year-old Adam, already serious, but flush with first love. “You were only a kid yourself.”

  “Maybe, but it was exactly the same thing that happened with my grandfather. Obsessed with a girl and forgot my responsibility to my family.”

  Her eyes stung, but she blinked any sympathy away before he noticed. He wouldn’t welcome it.

  How hard had he been on himself back then? She’d bet more than the quarter he’d given her that he’d been harder on himself than anything his parents had dished out.

  “I’m guessing you broke up with that girl.”

  “The next day. I had to.”

  The jigsaw pieces fell into place. “And anytime you felt yourself getting close to a woman since then, you break things off?”

  He didn’t need to answer—the way he rolled his shoulders back and glanced over to the horizon told her. They might not be emotionally close, but they were married. His internal alarm must be deafening.

  “You’re warning me off, aren’t you, Adam?”

  “No, I’m filling you in. We have a false sense of intimacy around us because of our situation and I don’t want you to come to hope that I could give you more than I’m capable of giving.”

  “I’m not asking for more.”

  “I know that.”

  “And I—” She stopped walking and dropped his hand as his earlier words replayed in her head.

  The story wasn’t about her. It was about him. About what happens when someone like him—like me—throws caution to the wind.

  It hardly seemed possible that someone with as much self-control as Adam Hawke could be worried about his reaction to a woman. To her.

  “I get to you, don’t I?” she said, hearing the wonder in her own voice.

  He didn’t bother denying it. “I think our twenty-four-hour marriage already proved that you’re a potential trigger for me.” He stopped walking again and glanced around. “I think this is far enough. We should start back.”

  Everything inside her seemed to be unsettled. Agitated. Thrilled. He’d wanted her when they hooked up in Vegas at the three conferences, but he’d played it so cool afterward each time that she’d assumed his attraction to her was nothing particularly strong. Nothing especially urgent. Nothing near how much she had wanted him. Still wanted him.

  Wordlessly, she followed his lead. Since the day in his office, when she’d told him about her coworker’s threat and they’d embarked on this plan, she’d been feeling at a disadvantage. She’d understood that she had a stronger attraction for him than he had for her.

  She’d been wrong.

  He was just better at hiding it. More practiced at denying himself.

  The newfound power was exhilarating, setting her pulse fluttering.

  “You still want me,” she said, though she didn’t need the confirmation.

  “Of course I do.” He stopped and faced her. Framed by the star-studded sky, his skin luminescent in the moonlight, he seemed different from both her Vegas groom and her housemate who kept his emotions tightly leashed. His eyes held a potent mix of surprise and open desire.

  “You didn’t know?” he whispered.

  She swallowed. “You’re very good at playing your cards close to your chest.”

  “That was for my own benefit.” He winced, clearly uncomfortable with the confession. “More denial than secrecy.”

  “I thought I was in this hell alone.” Despite his own admission, as soon as the words left her mouth, she wished them back. He may still feel desire for her, but he clearly didn’t want to let things develop between t
hem.

  She looked over his shoulder at the surf pounding behind him, trying to find her equilibrium. In Vegas, even after they’d sobered up, she’d been infatuated with him. In all honesty, she had been since the first conference where they’d met and she’d spent the night in his bed. By the third conference, when he’d suggested saying vows, she’d been halfway in love with him. His quick backtracking the next morning had taken those fledgling feelings and stomped all over them. Not quite broken her heart, since she hadn’t handed that to him, but close.

  Her gaze found his again, and she felt the connection like an electric jolt.

  If she let herself develop feelings for him now—and that would be such a simple thing to do, given the way he was looking at her, his expression open and troubled—it wouldn’t be as easy to shrug off the hurt when he turned away again. In fact, she had a suspicion it would be harder than anything she’d ever had to overcome before. And yet, she couldn’t look away. Couldn’t make herself start walking again. Couldn’t stop wanting...

  “You’re not alone,” he said, his fingers brushing her hair back behind her ears.

  As he touched her cheek, her breath caught and his gaze dropped to her mouth. The sound of the ocean receded and all she could see was him. Adam. His lips were slightly parted, his chest was rising and falling in rhythm with hers.

  If she had felt this way about any other man, any other time, she would have leaned in and kissed him, but this was Adam who had just trusted her with his deepest fears about losing control. She had to wait for him to decide. That was if she survived the time it took for his decision. Every moment of hesitation felt like a lifetime.

  Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips, and he watched the motion. Her skin grew warmer, and still she waited.

  Finally, with a groan, he reached out and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to him. His mouth landed on hers, all heat and need and heaven, and it felt as if they’d never been apart. As if this was where she always wanted to be.

  She leaned into him, feeling the strength of his frame as he drew her closer. His tongue stroked along hers, causing a sinfully glorious sensation. The touches they’d shared during their charade were like a candle flame compared to this bonfire. Lost to the magic of his kiss, she reached her hands to thread through his hair.

  “Adam,” she murmured. In response, he eased back.

  For long seconds all she could hear was their loud breaths before the rest of the world began to intrude.

  His expression was stunned, which pretty much summed up how she felt. Their chemistry was as explosive as ever.

  “Maybe we should keep walking,” he said, and she nodded. For some reason a public beach felt more intimate right now than a house with only the two of them.

  They headed for home, walking close, but not touching.

  “I’m thinking it might have been better if we hadn’t had this conversation tonight,” she said once her breathing was even.

  “The conversation or the kiss?” His tone was lower, rougher than before.

  “Both, but I meant the conversation. We’re pretending to be head over heels for each other when the cameras are on. Keeping the line between fantasy and reality would be an issue for anyone in a similar situation, but we’ve just blurred the line a little.”

  “You think keeping it firmly in place was easy these past few days?” As they walked, he stroked a hand down her back, sending shivers across her skin. “Shutting down my response to you when other people left the room? Hauling myself back when the camera was packed away?”

  “There’s no alternative—we got ourselves into this situation.” Except there was another option, one she’d been refusing to consider. But perhaps now was the time...? “Okay, what if there was? An alternative.”

  Dark eyebrows swooped down in a frown. “Stage a breakup?”

  “No, the plan is still working for the trust and my career. But we’re stuck together, alone, letting the world think our marriage is real.” Her heart skipped a beat as she contemplated saying this aloud. “Why not take advantage of the perks of the situation instead of fighting them?”

  “Isn’t that dangerous considering what we just discussed? This can’t go anywhere.” His words weren’t enthusiastic, but he didn’t move away from her side as they walked; his expression didn’t close off.

  It was a good point to have in the back of their minds, but it didn’t have to stop them. “We’ve already slept together. More than once. And this time we’re going in with our eyes open.”

  They reached the stairs that led to his house, and he turned to her.

  “Are you saying you want to have a fling with me, Callie?” His voice was low and as dark as night.

  A fling? It sounded so deliciously decadent. Her heart fluttered, and she had a moment’s doubt—could she be involved with Adam Hawke again, share his bed, and not start to hope for more? She looked away, then back to her husband. Of course she could. If he could keep his heart guarded, then she could, as well.

  “If we’re not expecting it to develop into more, what could it hurt?”

  He took a step closer. “Are you sure?”

  “If you’re willing to try it, then I’m in.” She crossed her fingers behind her back for luck, hoping she knew what she was doing.

  His gaze dropped to her lips and lingered a moment before returning to her eyes. “Then I have a proposal.”

  “You’ve been there and done that. I have the marriage certificate to prove it.”

  The corners of his mouth twitched. “A proposal of a different kind.”

  “I’m listening.” In fact, he had every last scrap of her attention.

  “We go inside now and give ourselves tonight.” He traced a warm palm down her arm. “One night to share a bed, and we reassess in the morning.”

  Her body had gone into meltdown at the mention of sharing a bed, but she forced herself to think through what he was offering. “What do you think will be different tomorrow?”

  “We make sure we’re both happy with the arrangement. Neither one of us feels...emotionally compromised.”

  “Emotionally compromised? You say the sweetest things.” She drew in a breath. “And if neither of us does?”

  A slow smile spread across his face. “Then we consider turning this into a fling for the duration of our sham marriage.”

  Every nerve ending in her body lit up and buzzed. She had trouble finding her voice, until finally she whispered, “Deal.”

  Seven

  Adam led Callie by the hand through the house to his bedroom, resisting the urge to haul her against him the entire way. If he did that, they wouldn’t make it to his room, and it was of burning importance to make love to her in his bed.

  The other times they’d slept together, the situation hadn’t quite felt real. It wasn’t just that they’d been drinking, it was also because they’d been at a conference in Vegas, away from their everyday lives. For three years running, they’d carved a slice of time together that didn’t have to mesh with their reality.

  Tonight things would be different.

  Tonight, it was real.

  As they reached the threshold to his room, he paused and glanced at Callie. Perhaps because it would be more real than anything that had come before, he needed to make extra sure she was fully on board with the step they were about to take. Nothing would be the same after this.

  Her gaze steady on his, she leaned against him and cupped the sides of his face in her palms. Then she stood on tiptoes and kissed him. Everything inside him burst to life, as if he was hyperaware of each cell in his body. And each cell wanted one thing—to be closer to Callie.

  With her mouth moving over his, he gripped her hips, digging his fingers into the flesh there, anchoring him to the world. To have her pressed along the length of
him, kissing him, was almost too much sensation at once, but he wanted more.

  He tore his mouth away and tugged her toward his bed. Still fully clothed, he half laid, half fell onto the mattress, bringing her with him, and then resumed the kiss. Her mouth was hot and sensuous, and part of him felt as if this was the same kiss from three months ago, that it had been merely interrupted.

  He pulled his sweatshirt over his head and then also stripped off the sweatshirt he’d given her. The feel of her skin against his chest was heavenly and a groan of satisfaction rumbled deep inside him.

  “I’ve missed touching you,” he said, his voice barely a rasp.

  She found his hands and brought them to her breasts, holding them over the cups of her bra for a long moment. “Then by all means, touch me some more.”

  The note of teasing while her eyes were practically glazed with need was pure Callie. He rolled onto his back, taking her with him so that she was above him, straddling his hips, her torso bare except for the white lace bra, and he took her up on the invitation to touch her some more.

  His fingertips stroked down her sides, across her slightly rounded abdomen, back up to her collarbone. Her skin was smooth and silken and he might never get enough. Then he found her breasts once more and brushed across their peaks with his thumbs. Callie’s thighs tightened around his hips and her breath picked up speed. He repeated the motion, this time paying more attention to her reactions. A slow smile spread across his face—she liked it when he did this.

  He should already know her likes and dislikes, but the alcohol had distorted his memories. Reaching behind her, he unhooked her bra and tossed it to the side of the bed. He was going to need more freedom to discover everything he wanted to know.

  He lifted himself to a seated position on the covers with Callie still straddling his lap, his hands on a journey of investigation. And everything he learned was like a secret as old as time, a secret he was privileged to be granted.

  She tried to wriggle back and make room for her own hands.

  “Oh, no,” he said, staying her hands. “I’ve been dreaming of this moment. I need a chance to explore.”