Wife in Name Only

by Hayson Manning

  He breathed in her hair and planted a kiss on her forehead. “Relax. It’s just for show. Smile for the camera.”

  She kept herself tight in his arms for a second before she melted into him. “I can do it for show.” She rained a line of kisses down his jaw.

  Shit.

  Instantly hard, her nipples pushed against the fabric of her dress. He was a step away from hauling her over his shoulder and walking back to her bungalow to show her what a real-life Rudy could do.

  “Dessert?” she said, her head against his chest.

  “Are you on the tasting plate?” he murmured into her hair.

  “Not today,” she whispered back.

  “Then it can wait.” His fingers tightened against her, pulling her in closer. A current blew through him. It would be easy to forget what they were doing here. It would be easy to tip her head back and kiss her until she didn’t know her name. They could forget all the reasons they’d never worked in the first place, and it would be easy to pretend.

  He liked the time they spent together. Not just physically. However, that time would be ending very soon and he’d be back to his very real world.

  Her hands twisted behind his neck and he pulled her closer. The seductive sounds of the saxophone faded.

  It was just the two of them on the planet.

  This isn’t good.

  Unsettled, he stepped back. It took her a few seconds to react. But she did. Her face paled. She blinked.

  “What’s on your agenda tomorrow?” he asked.

  She stiffened, slipped out of his embrace, and walked to the camera. “I think we’ve got enough for tonight.”

  With her back to him, he cursed himself. He knew what he’d done. Feeling out of his depth with weird emotions he wasn’t about to play connect the dots with, he’d gone for familiar territory. Become all about business and watched her fade before him.

  “I don’t know for sure. I’ve got to make pasta, which I freeze. Not one of my favorite things but got to get it done. Then the generators have to be taken apart and oiled. I need to make sure the solar panels are clean and the batteries they feed are all a hundred percent. Basic maintenance that I do this time of year.”

  She wiped a weary hand across her forehead.

  “You do all this yourself?” His head jerked back. Shit. He’d struggle with one generator. “That’s a big workload.”

  “I did a mechanics course before I came here. Got to use my spanner set. I can keep the beasts running. I have to. Without the generators or the solar panels, we’d be screwed. It’s not like we can call the power company and ask when something is going to be fixed. I’ve learned to rely on no one except me.”

  “You did a mechanics course back in L.A.?” He stared at her. “When? How come I didn’t know?”

  “You weren’t around. I learned to rely on myself. I hadn’t relied on you for a long time,” she said in a quiet but strong voice.

  Laughter barked out of him. “I don’t think you ever relied on me. You were always one to do your own thing.”

  “I had to, Rory. You were never there.” Tears pooled in her eyes. She looked shell-shocked. She turned and walked toward the kitchen with the plates stacked on her arm like she was a professional waitress.

  Before he could sucker-punch himself to the head for hurting her, a low growl to his right had the hairs standing up on the back of his neck. His hands balled into fists. He turned slowly.

  Cinderella lay panting, her tongue hanging out, a look of misery on her face.

  “Hey, baby girl, what’s up?” He knelt by the dog, running his hand down the length of her, feeling her stomach convulse.

  A minute later, Zoe knelt beside him. She rested her hand gently on her dog’s head. “She was sick this afternoon. I found a fish head at the garbage pit and buried it. Last time she did that she was sick for days.”

  He coaxed the dog into a standing position. She took two steps and gave him an I’m sorry look before she crumpled to the ground.

  “I’ve got her.” He lifted the dog into his arms.

  “Thanks. I’ll be along in a minute. I’ll just finish up here.”

  Zoe flinched when he reached out and touched her arm.

  “You’ll be okay here?” He scanned the area. The moon soaked the area in pools of light. The solar lamps threw light over the path, painting the darkness in streaks of silver like a weird kind of crossword puzzle.

  “I’m fine. Safest place on earth.” She walked past him, looking lost in her thoughts.

  …

  He gently lay the dog down on her pillow in Zoe’s room. A trickle of blood oozed out of the dog’s mouth.

  The knot in his stomach twisted.

  “That’s one hammerhead shark head you’re trying to get rid of there. Either that, or someone doesn’t like you very much.” He laid his hand on the dog’s head. Her whole body trembled.

  Zoe arrived twenty minutes later. “Is she okay?” Her lips were pale underneath pink lipgloss, she was panting, and her killer shoes dangled in her hand. She must have sprinted there.

  He went to the bathroom and wet a towel. He knelt beside the dog, lifted Cinderella’s head with one hand, and dribbled water into her mouth.

  “Come on, girl.” He let out a breath when she swallowed it.

  “It’s just a waiting game now.” He stood. “Keeping her hydrated is the only thing we can do.”

  Fat tears rolled down Zoe’s deathly pale face. She swatted them away. “I’m going to kill her when she gets better.” She tried to smile but her lips trembled.

  “Hey, nothing’s going to happen to her.” He pulled her into a hug. Her muscles tightened. He stroked her hair until she relaxed against him.

  He closed his eyes, pulled in a long breath of her signature scent, and wrapped his arms tighter.

  “She’s the only thing who loves me back no matter what.” She tipped her head back, and his heart shifted at the vulnerability on her face and the deep sadness in her eyes.

  He opened his mouth then closed it. Cold matter clogged his veins.

  What was there to say?

  Fuck. He hated feeling like this. He’d rather be crunching numbers or closing a deal than wading through useless feelings. He didn’t know what to say to make it better or to make her feel better. He glanced down at Cinderella, who’d drifted off to sleep with her breathing shallow but even.

  He stepped back. The warmth instantly faded. “I’ll stay up with her during the night. Make sure she gets water.”

  She opened her mouth to protest, instant fire in her eyes.

  “Don’t fight me on this. I’m not compromising.”

  She thrust her hands onto her hips, her eyes narrow. “Really, caveman? Control freak? Un…bendy man?”

  He smirked. “Yeah, really.”

  “I’m staying.”

  Looking like a tiger mama protecting her cub, she was hotter than hell with her cheeks all flushed and her hands bunched at her sides.

  He held up his hands in surrender.

  “So…Unbendy man?”

  “Yep, it’s getting to be quite the list. You’re about as compromising as a broom.” She grabbed a pillow from the couch. “Move over.” She bumped her hip against his, shifting him out of the way. She curled up on the cushion, barely fitting onto it, and laid her hand on her dog’s head.

  He grabbed a chair and stared out into the night.

  At four in the morning, he checked Cinderella, who opened her one eye and gave him what he considered a dog smile. Thank God. He ruffled the dog’s head, stood, and stretched solidly cramped muscles.

  “Is she okay?” Zoe whispered. Fatigue lines etched around her lovely eyes.

  The sounds of the jungle stirred as the day yawned into life. The faint cry of a bird echoed across the island. He could just make out Zoe’s face in the watery light.

  “Yeah, I think so. She took a long drink of water before, and I let her out half an hour ago to pee, so that’s a good sign.” He looked
at the door, then back at her. “What’s with all the locks on the door?”

  “Just extra security. Don’t read anything into it.”

  He raised his eyebrows, held out his hand, which she took, and pulled her to a standing position. Safest place on earth, indeed. “I don’t want to argue about this, but I’m getting into that bed, and I’m going to sleep. You can do your pillow thing if you want, but I’m done.”

  After preparing for sleep, he slid between the sheets of Zoe’s bed, muscles weary and mind exhausted. Not too long after, smelling all minty, Zoe joined him.

  Sometime later, he woke to Zoe curled into a ball, tucked into his chest. His arm curled around her waist, and his legs hooked around hers.

  Spooning.

  Shit.

  It felt good. Too good.

  He kicked the thoughts in a trashcan and slipped into a dreamless sleep.

  Chapter Eight

  “Rudy,” Zoe murmured, rubbing herself against him with heated skin and a river of lust between her legs.

  In her dream, one of Rudy’s imaginary hands gently pulled and teased her nipple. She arched against the heat filling her core. His hand circled her waist, his palm flat against her belly, made slow circles, and moved down. His tongue flicked across her neck.

  “Yes,” she moaned as the hand on her belly dropped lower, his fingers parting her. She heard his sharp intake of breath and shivered. His fingers worked her rhythmically, the sensations blocking out everything. She shifted her legs, opening herself up to him. His hand increased the pressure until she thought she’d scream. She tried to move, but with lightning speed his hand moved from her breast and tucked around her waist, imprisoning her. His erection nudged the edge of her sex. She wriggled backwards, desperate for him to fill her.

  “Please,” she begged, adjusting herself so he could bury himself inside her.

  The sensation of his hand working, kneading, and rubbing her overwhelmed all thought. His erection at her opening drove her over the edge. She screamed as the mother of all orgasms rocked her body. She arched, then plunged backwards, driving her body onto him. She moaned as she strained to accommodate the length of him. The pleasure mixed with pain was exquisite. He stilled, kissing the back of her neck but not moving inside her. Her hips instinctively started rocking, but his fingers gripped her hip, stopping her. Her head arched against his shoulder, her breath coming in long, ragged bursts.

  His hand inched downward, finding her swollen, super-sensitive flesh. She flinched, trying to get away from him as lightning shot through her body.

  “I can’t,” she said, barely able to speak, her voice a whimper in her throat.

  “Just go with it. Let go.”

  His hand stroked and teased her. Her body filled with him, and he didn’t move an inch. The feeling of complete fullness scorched her blood. Air squeezed out of her too-tight lungs, her eyes closed, and with a jolting burst she climaxed around him, her muscles rigid before turning to liquid.

  He rocked into her, starting slow, gathering speed as she felt his urgent need. She threw her head back and slammed backwards, bucking her hips, driving him on. Not seeing, not thinking, just doing. She rode him until his body tensed against her, his breath ragged on her shoulder.

  His lips touched the back of her neck in a line of soft kisses. The tenderness in his touch made her throat burn.

  A nuzzling of her hair brought her to the surface of her dream. Jesus, what a dream.

  She tried to stretch, but a strong arm imprisoned her waist.

  “Morning, babe.”

  She closed her eyes and inhaled the sweet scent of their bodies, her body covered in sweat. Holy crap sacks.

  “For the record, I’m not Rudy. Cinderella’s fine. I just let her out.” Rory leaned up on his elbow and stared down at her, a very contented look on his face. “When I slipped back into bed you started rubbing yourself against me.”

  “I did not.” She clutched the sheet and drew it to her neck. Horror turned her whole body hot.

  “You did, and it was so friggin’ hot. So I did the only thing a guy could do under the circumstances.”

  His grin made her squirm. God help her, it hadn’t been the first time she’d woken up in a position that would have her saying the rosary in this life and the next. But to have it happen with Rory in her bed…

  Oh, God, I jumped him.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for this to happen.” She pointed to the couch. “I’ll sleep there, or in another cabin. Hell, I’ll take the broom closet, but this isn’t right.” The words dropped out of her mouth, hot and burning.

  “Relax. It’s just sex, and we are married.” He slid from the bed in all his glorious nakedness and grinned. Damn the man. Hotter than a centerfold, he oozed sexiness and charm. He positively sauntered to the bathroom.

  She flopped back onto the mattress. She turned her head to look at the indentation on his pillow, and her heart thumped out an SOS.

  She couldn’t deny the sex was awesomely mind-blowing. Urgent. Physical. Better than it had ever been. She’d be lying if she said all her muscles didn’t feel like ironed silk right now. She looked at the closed bathroom door and frowned, her heart doing that crazy squeezy thing.

  It was just sex, plain and simple.

  But…

  But nothing.

  …

  An hour later, showered, refreshed, and wearing a pair of frayed cutoffs and a tank top—her uniform of choice in the sometimes blood-boiling humidity—Zoe stood in the kitchen and pushed the button of her iPod. Immediately the happy voices of Agnetha, Anni-Frid, Björn, and Benny danced through the air. “Take a Chance on Me.” She knew it was corny, but it was her happy music. Her sing-along music, even though she knew she couldn’t hold a tune. It had been her mother’s favorite band. She’d plop Zoe onto the counter and start her happy baking, as she called it. She’d hold a wooden spoon, pretending it was a microphone, and belt out song after song. Zoe kept the memory of her mother safe, wrapped in tissue and held tight.

  Knowing her father and his rigid, disciplined ways, her mother’s life must have been hard. Hugs, soft kisses, and being tucked in at night died when her mother did. Even after her mother’s death, she’d go to bed humming an ABBA song, safe in the knowledge that somewhere her mother was singing along to the same tune.

  The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, and two bread loaves just out of the oven cooled on the counter. Simi organized a delivery of bread every day from the two village bakeries, alternating from the bakeries in Hihifo and Vaipoa and increasing the order when the honeymooners arrived. The bread was the best in the universe. Nothing beat fluffy white bread covered in a hint of butter and lemon honey.

  Cinderella stretched and repositioned herself under her favorite bush. Zoe had left her a bowl of water. Her heart clenched. The dog looked washed out, but better. She’d cook up some chicken and rice for her later.

  “What’s with all the fucking ABBA?” Rory walked into the dining area, looking hotter than he should in a ribbed tank and black shorts that hung low on his slim hips…Hips that she could still feel grinding into her. Despite the drop in air pressure and the mood swing, embarrassing liquid heat filled her core.

  Without looking at her, he opened the fridge door and took out a can of juice, popped it, and downed it in one go. He leaned against the bench. “Don’t you have anything post-seventies? I’d kill for some Black Keys.” He glared at the speakers. “Anything but fucking ABBA.”

  “It’s my happy music, Rory.”

  He scowled at her, and she scowled back.

  One minute he was the guy kissing the back of her neck with what she’d obviously mistaken for tenderness, and the next he’d morphed into totally pissed Rory. What the hell had happened to the happy, smiling, teasing man she’d left in her bed this morning? “What crawled up your ass and died?” she said. He’d totally pissed her off in the space of three seconds.

  No, he didn’t piss you off. You let him.
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  She straightened her shoulders and breathed deep through her nose.

  He rubbed his chin with his hand. “Nothing. I can’t find the phone, and I need to get stuff done.”

  She swallowed. The piece of toast on the way to her mouth wasn’t so appealing anymore.

  “Evil plans and all?” She waved a hand in the air.

  His eyes pierced her. “Yeah, something like that.”

  “Whatever. I’ve got stuff I need to do.” She turned her back to him and started gathering the ingredients needed to make the millions of cannelloni she had to prepare. “Weren’t you supposed to be with Simi, helping out today?” She glanced at him with a frown.

  The thundercloud hanging over his parade lifted, and a little bit of sunshine snuck into his soul. “Yeah, I will be,” he said in a giant whoosh. “Just taking longer than I thought.”

  She watched as he walked away, swallowed by the sun.

  The thump of Simi’s cane penetrated her thoughts, and she thought of Cinderella. She wiped her hands down her cut-offs and walked outside to have a serious conversation about the cigarettes and fish head.

  Ten minutes later, without the disquiet that had been belting around her head like a wrecking ball, she breathed deeply. Simi assured her he’d talk to Toma, the man who’d had issues with her and Cinderella, and tell him that he wasn’t welcome at the resort. He’d also speak to Toma’s parents. As an elder of the community, Simi’s opinion held a lot of weight. Toma wouldn’t be a problem.

  Hours later, with every surface of the kitchen covered in mixers, spoons, and bowls, she wiped a hand across her head and sipped Drowning in You, one of her tropical concoctions. She rolled pineapple, passion fruit, mango, and guava juice around her mouth, loving the clash of the lime zest floating on the surface.

  “Hey.” Rory walked towards her. He looked ten years younger than Mr. Pissed Off from this morning. His man-sweat sent a yeah to all her girly parts. His body glistened and his hair was finger-combed.