Wife in Disguise

by Susan Mallery

  Questions darkened his eyes, but he was too polite to ask. Josie found herself torn between wanting to share the details of her accident and knowing that it was too soon for those confessions. They might lead to others she wasn’t ready to deal with. But she had a strong urge to tell him that she’d hadn’t always been so broken. That there had been a time when she could walk and run just like a normal person.

  Instead she rose to her feet and steadied herself with her cane. “I’ll leave you to get started, then,” she said.

  He stood and came around to her side of the desk. “I’m looking forward to the project. Call me if you have any questions.”

  Instead of offering to shake her hand, he lightly touched her arm. She felt the brush of his fingers and the resulting heat all the way down to the soles of her feet. It was as if he’d set fire to her blood. Talk about a complication. Being attracted to her ex-husband was a huge mistake.

  She wanted to tell him that she was sorry she’d been so difficult. After only a couple of conversations with Del, she’d remembered enough of the past to realize why they were divorced. It was one of the reasons she avoided dealing with the breakup. She hadn’t wanted to know how much of the fault was hers. She didn’t have a choice anymore. She was back where it had all started and she was here to get answers. Apparently from herself as well as Del.

  She gave him a quick smile and hurried from the room, which for her meant an awkward hobble. Once in the safety of her car, she vowed that she would figure out what she needed from Del and tell him the truth as soon as possible. Just not today.

  Wednesday morning she arrived at the house only to find the driveway filled with construction trucks. The familiar blue vehicles with the Scott Construction sign painted on the doors made her hesitate before climbing out of her Volvo. She’d been gone for three years, but most of Del’s crew had worked for him much longer than that. Which meant she would know a good number of them. Del hadn’t recognized her. Would they?

  Josie thought about running away but knew she would have to face them all eventually. After all, by the end of the week she would be living in the house. She consoled herself with the fact that if her husband hadn’t recognized her, no one else would, either. It wasn’t much comfort but it was the best she could come up with under the circumstances. She sucked in a deep breath for courage, then began the laborious process of walking up to the front door and entering the Victorian mansion.

  The sound of conversation and power tools filled the old place. She stood just inside the foyer and breathed in the scent of wood, dust and change. Above her the old chandelier glittered in the bright morning light, while rays of sunshine illuminated floating clouds of dust.

  Huge, heavy squares of canvas protected the hardwood floors from footsteps and spills. There were ladders leaning against walls, piles of tools and supplies in various corners and plans pinned up on walls. As she walked into the main room she saw a ratty old brown sofa and three recliners. She recognized the threadbare pieces of furniture. The crew carried them from job to job and sprawled on them during breaks, lunches and meetings.

  Josie turned in a slow circle taking in the differences brought by only two days of work. Already the kitchen was gutted. Someone had chipped the tiles out of the guest bath on the first floor and a breeze cut through the house from an opening left by a removed window.

  A tall, lanky man with bright-red hair walked by. He balanced several boards on one of his broad shoulders.

  “Ma’am,” he said, giving her a polite nod as he passed.

  She smiled and reminded herself that calling Jerry or any of the men by name would be a mistake. She couldn’t know them until they were introduced.

  She followed his progress, noting that he didn’t break stride or turn for a second look. She was a stranger to him. Which was good. She hadn’t come this far to have her cover blown. She consoled herself with the thought that if this was a year ago, when she was still wrapped in bandages and could have easily doubled for a mummy woman, she would have sent the entire crew screaming for sanctuary.

  “What’s so funny?”

  She hadn’t realized she’d been smiling until she felt her lips straighten. She glanced up and saw Del standing in the entrance to the kitchen. He leaned against the door frame, looking as strong and handsome as ever, darn the man. Today he wore a navy T-shirt tucked into jeans. The soft fabric of the T-shirt clung to his chest, outlining every inch of muscle. Just to make her situation worse, she knew what he would look like without his clothes and that image was even better.

  Her breath caught in her throat when he pushed off the support and walked toward her. Or maybe her breathing problem came from the fact that he actually sauntered. A slow, male movement that reminded her of a tiger staking out territory. Is that what he was doing with her? She desperately wanted to believe it was true.

  “You were chuckling about something,” he said when he came to a halt less than a foot in front of her. “Are you afraid we’ll never get your house back together?”

  “Not at all. I was thinking about some surgery I had a while back. How I would have frightened everyone if I’d come in wrapped in bandages.”

  “I think we would have survived.”

  He touched a hand to the small of her back, urging her to take a step to the side. As she did, a man of medium height but built like a fullback came through carrying armfuls of tools. She recognized Mark right away, but again didn’t say anything to the man. Like Jerry, Mark gave her a polite nod.

  She saw his gaze slide to the cane and then to her legs. Self-consciousness flooded her. Today was one of her bad days, when getting out of bed and forcing herself to stand had taken nearly all her reserves. She was stiff and suffering from muscle cramps and fatigue. The result of missing too many therapy sessions. But that couldn’t be helped. Once she got settled in the house on Friday, she would find a therapist close by and get back to her treatments. Until then she would survive—on sheer will if necessary.

  “Come see what we’ve done,” Del said, pointing to the kitchen. “It’s empty.”

  “I noticed. I guess I’m going to learn the phone number of every nearby takeout place, huh?”

  He pointed to a list on the wall by a battered black phone. “Already done. Just part of the excellent Scott family service. I recommend the Chinese place. It’s the best. So’s the Mexican, but that’s better at the restaurant because they have terrific margaritas.”

  He stepped back and touched a small refrigerator tucked under a makeshift counter made of sawhorses topped by plywood. “It won’t hold a week’s worth of shopping but it will get you by for now.”

  She pointed at a microwave sitting on top of the counter. “A loaner?”

  “Exactly. We want you to be comfortable during the construction. Dust and noise can’t be avoided but we try to make everything else as pleasant as possible.” He slapped one hand against a bare wall. “As you can see the old cabinets are down. I’ve already taken measurements for the new ones and I’ll get started on them this week. In the parlor you’ll find an assortment of paint samples and wallpaper sample books for you to peruse in your free time. And in the main room you probably noticed our luxurious seating accommodations.”

  She glanced over her shoulder at the ratty sofa. “I thought that was the trash pile,” she teased.

  He stepped back, obviously outraged. “It’s an antique.”

  “Uh-huh. Del, it’s junk. I can see through patches of the fabric and there are springs poking out all over.”

  “Having it around is kind of a tradition. Is it too offensive?”

  “Not as long as it leaves when the job is over.”

  “Deal. We have clean sheets we toss over the sofa and the recliners at the end of the day. So you’ll have something clean to sit on.” He paused and frowned. “I never thought to ask. How much furniture are you going to be moving in?”

  “Less than you’d think. I have a bedroom set being delivered Friday morning. Othe
rwise, just what I can fit in my car.”

  “You travel light.”

  “I’ve learned to.”

  She’d spent the past year in three different hospitals and multiple rehab centers. Furniture hadn’t been much of a priority. She still had a few things in the Los Angeles apartment she’d shared with her stepsister, Dallas, but saw no need to tell that to Del. Besides, she wasn’t sure if she would be moving anything up to Beachside Bay. That sort of depended on whether or not she decided to stay here.

  She remembered the contents of her car trunk. “Did you already get paint for the guest bedroom and bath?” she asked.

  “No. Why?”

  “I did some shopping this weekend and ended up buying paint and wallpaper.”

  His dark eyes brightened with laughter. “Let me guess. Pink and lavender. And the wallpaper had flowers on it.”

  “How very sexist.”

  “Am I wrong?”

  She reached in her skirt pocket for her car keys. “Why don’t you see for yourself. Everything is in the trunk.”

  He grabbed the keys, then called for one of the guys to get the supplies. “Want to show me what goes where?” he asked.

  Del led the way to the stairs and waited for Rose to follow. She hesitated a moment before nodding her head in agreement and coming after him. He watched her walk, noticing that her movements were slower than usual, as if every step caused her pain.

  “You all right?” he asked.

  “Sure. Some days are easier than others. Today’s turning out to be one of the hard ones.”

  As she spoke, he noticed the lines of tension and hurt around her eyes and mouth. She’d pulled her long blond hair back into a sleek ponytail that left her slender neck bare. A white T-shirt hugged her top half while a crinkly white and teal skirt fell to mid calf. He tried to concentrate on anything but the full curves outlined by her shirt. She was big enough to fill a man’s hand and while he’d never considered himself much of a breast man, Rose made him rethink his position.

  She started up the stairs. Her movements were slow and awkward, with her taking each step individually. She raised her right foot and set it firmly on the next level. The cane followed. She then braced herself on the cane and raised her left foot. He didn’t know if she was in pain from what she was doing, but it sure hurt him to watch. He had to force himself not to hover behind her.

  “Were you in an accident of some kind?” he asked before he could stop himself.

  “Yes. A truck hit my car.”

  She spoke between sharp gasps of breath.

  Del told himself not to watch, that if he had a brain in his head he would talk about something unrelated so that she wouldn’t know he was itching to help in some way. Except she hadn’t asked for help and he didn’t know how to offer. But before he could think of a single thing to say, her left leg gave way and she started to go down.

  She was less than a quarter of the way up the staircase. He was at her side, grabbing her arm and holding her upright before she even came close to falling. He wrapped one arm around her waist so she could lean on him.

  They were close enough for him to inhale her floral scented perfume…and something else. Some female essence that was both attractive and oddly familiar. But before he could place it, she turned to look at him.

  All thoughts fled his mind as he saw the pain and bleakness in her eyes. The blue irises darkened with a thousand emotions he couldn’t begin to identify. He had no idea what she was going through or what she’d endured. He only knew that she didn’t utter a word of complaint.

  She trembled slightly, making him aware of their close proximity. His thumb was just under the curve of her right breast, and he was six kinds of an idiot for noticing. He also ignored the fact that her curvy rear rested against his thigh. All men were slime, he told himself, and he was the slime king.

  “Do me a favor,” he said as he bent down and slid his arm under her knees. “Don’t scream too loud. You can yell at me when we get to the second floor.”

  Then he lifted her up into his arms and carried her the rest of the way up the stairs.

  She fit him perfectly. Not like Josie, who had been bony and too muscular. Rose was soft curves and yielding femininity. He wanted to keep on walking with her like this, taking them both to a quiet spot where they could get to know each other better. He wanted to bend down and kiss her until…hell, he didn’t want to stop kissing her.

  Unfortunately, neither was an option so when they reached the landing, he set her on her feet and prepared to be castigated.

  “I know,” he said, holding up a hand to try to slow her down. “I violated every code in the cane users handbook. I shouldn’t have picked you up and carried you. If you’d wanted my help you would have asked. I’m insensitive and a jerk. I just couldn’t stand to watch you in pain and I was afraid you’d fall. For all I know you’d break your neck and die right here and I know you haven’t had time to put the house into your will. What if your estate defaulted on the contract? So it was really about money. I wasn’t trying to insult you.”

  Her mouth twitched up slightly at the corners. “Well, if you were just being mercenary and looking out for your self-interest, I guess I understand. But if you were trying to be nice, I’d have to be mad.”

  She was laughing at him. “Are you mad?”

  “That you were nice and caring and a gentleman? Not at all. Just don’t tell me I need to lose a few pounds.”

  He allowed himself to give her body the once-over, lingering a tiny bit on her breasts. “From here you look great.”

  She laughed, although the sound had a slightly strangled quality. “Thank you. For the compliment and for carrying me. I don’t think we should make a habit of it, but under the circumstances, it was very nice.”

  He almost added “for me, too” but caught himself at the last minute.

  “I do have a question, though,” she said in her low, husky voice. The sound definitely rubbed him the right way. He could listen to her for hours.

  “Shoot.”

  “Would you have done it if I’d been a man?”

  It took him a second to realize what she meant. Would he have carried her up the stairs if she’d been male? He hesitated, knowing the right answer and not sure he could actually say it.

  “Politically correct battles with gut truth.” She leaned close. “Don’t try to pretend otherwise. I can see it in your eyes.”

  “Yeah, yeah, so I wouldn’t have carried a guy up the stairs. I still would have helped.”

  “Hey, boss. Where do you want these?”

  Gary came up the stairs with a perfectly timed interruption. He held a couple of cans of paint in each hand and had rolls of wallpaper tucked under his left arm.

  “Just leave them here,” Del said, pointing to a corner of the landing. “The rooms aren’t ready for them yet.”

  Gary deposited the supplies and left.

  Del crouched to check the colors of the cans. The paint was a sunny shade of yellow. There was a border print of ivory tea roses accented in green. A matching pattern of smaller flowers filled the full-size wallpaper rolls.

  “Just what I thought,” he muttered. “Girl stuff.”

  “These rooms are for me,” Rose said lightly. “What did you expect? Monster trucks or half-naked women?”

  “I’ve never seen half-naked-woman wallpaper, but it’s a thought.”

  “Yes, especially if they’re young, perfect women.”

  “It’s a plus, but not necessary.”

  As he spoke he wondered if she felt she wasn’t perfect anymore. Yeah, she used a cane and probably had some scars, but that didn’t really matter. At least not to him. Had some male moron hurt her by making her feel she wasn’t enough?

  He didn’t know how to ask and it wasn’t his business, so instead he stood and motioned to the guest bathroom.

  “Want to check out what we’ve done so far?”

  “Sure.” She turned and led the way. “I’m guessi
ng it’s gutted and not much else.”

  “You have to use your imagination.”

  He showed her that they were going to turn the tub/shower combination which would allow them to fit in a vanity with a double sink.

  Rose nodded slowly, then looked at him. “But what about the toilet? Moving things around will be awkward to get in and out of the room.”

  “Not if we move the door hinge to the other side, so it opens to the left and not the right.”

  She studied the door and nodded. “Very clever. This would be one of the many reasons why I’m not trying to do this myself. I wouldn’t have thought of that.”

  “It’s why we get the big bucks. Now, in the bedroom itself we’re replacing the window, doing some patching, then painting on Wednesday. That will give us forty-eight hours to clear out the paint smell.”

  “Which isn’t going to happen.”

  “No, but it will be better than if we painted it Friday morning. The bathroom gets patched this afternoon, painted tomorrow. Tub, sink and toilet go in on Thursday.”

  “Which is a good thing. My alternative is to use the hose out back for a shower.”

  “While that would entertain the neighbors, it’s still a little cool in the morning, so I wouldn’t recommend it.”

  “Oh, gee, thanks. And here I’d been looking forward to some al fresco bathing.”

  He didn’t want to think about that. Actually he did want to think about it in great detail, but that would be a big mistake. “Are you going to be all right here by yourself? It’s a big house, and you’re not even going to have a kitchen.”

  She leaned against the wall, bracing herself. He wondered if her leg was bothering her.

  “I’m having a phone line run in tomorrow,” she said. “That means I won’t be cut off from the world. As for the kitchen, between the microwave and your list of takeout, I’ll be fine.”

  “You don’t cook?”

  She hesitated. “Not much. I didn’t used to at all, but I’ve been slowly teaching myself.”