Wife for Hire (8 page)

“The first few months were the worst. Once I made the decision to stay, I realized I had to forgive him. Now it’s time to repair what was broken.”

Jordan gave her a dubious look, but Lindy must have sounded convincing because she let the topic go. They had moved on to discussing tomorrow’s activities when Owen came back.

“All set, love?”

“More than. I’m exhausted. Jordan, we’ll see you tomorrow?”

Jordan leaned in and pulled Lindy into a fierce hug, which Lindy returned reluctantly. When she released her, she gave Owen a frosty “Good night,” before returning to her husband.

“What the hell was that about?” he asked.

“You don’t want to know.”

Chapter Eight

“That was a disaster,” Lindy groaned, laying her purse onto the granite countertop of their suite’s kitchen. “I’m really sorry.”

She’d filled him in on her discussion with Jordan on the way back to the room. He wasn’t exactly thrilled about her latest fabrication. There were few things he hated more than a cheat, but she looked so miserable, he couldn’t bring himself to kick her while she was down.

“Don’t be dramatic. It wasn’t perfect, but certainly not a disaster. We’ve got to be better prepared next time. Sarabeth is bound by her position not to mention what we discuss with her, but Jordan isn’t. I’m thinking if anyone asks, since it’s out there now, the cheating story is the one to stick with from this point forward. It’s as good a cover as any. The important thing is that we’re consistent. If we can manage that, we shouldn’t have a problem.”

“The problem is me. I’m not quick on my feet when it comes to lying, and when I try, it’s like I have no control over what comes out.” She toed off one stiletto and rubbed her bare foot absently against her calf. Her feet were adorable, like the rest of her, and he was hit with the inane desire to press a kiss to her instep, maybe slide higher to her slim ankle, the back of her knees, the crease—

“Don’t you think?”

He shot his gaze up to meet hers and she stared at him expectantly. What had he missed?

She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously “Are you drunk or something?”

“I had one glass of wine.”

“Why are you acting so weird then?”

He wondered what she would say if he told her the truth.
I was perfectly sane before I met you, but the need to lick you from head to toe is slowly driving me insane.

“It’s been a long day.”

“You’re telling me,” she said with a derisive snort. “I had the same day you did, but I did it all in two different pairs of four-inch heels.” She slipped off her other shoe and groaned, kneading her coral-tipped toes into the thick carpet.

“Why don’t you let me rub your feet?” The offer was out before he could stop it, but the look on her face kept him from retracting it. Longing mixed with wariness, and the combination compelled him to convince her. “I dated a bird who waited tables back when I was younger, so I’m quite good at it. And maybe this is the kind of thing we need to be doing at any rate. You’re about to jump out of your skin every time I touch you. This will break the ice a bit, make us a little more comfortable with casual contact in public.”

She shook her head mournfully. “I know. It was bad tonight. I choked big time when you came up behind me. It’s been a long time since I’ve been half of a couple, and our—” she ticked off two-fingered air quotes “—courtship was such a whirlwind. I guess my body hasn’t caught up with my brain yet. When you’re single and someone gooses you from behind, your first reaction is ‘stranger danger!’ not ‘fake husband,’ you know?”

He didn’t, but he nodded anyway. “It’s all right. This is a couple’s retreat. We don’t need to look happy, but we do need to look comfortable with one another.”

She tossed her shoes into the corner and hobbled over to the couch. “Okay, I’m in. But could you try not to be…” She squinted her eyes and made an exaggerated, slow rubbing motion with her hands. “All sexy about it?”

He swallowed a grin and gave a solemn, three-fingered Scout’s Honor. “I shall endeavor to do exactly that. Although, being as virile as I am—” The air whooshed out of him on an
oomph
when the pillow she’d tossed hit him in the gut.

“And Jordan thought I was the abusive one? If she only knew.”

She chuckled, tucking herself into one corner of the couch while he took off his sports jacket and loosened his tie. He sat on the opposite end and patted his thigh. “Up you go.”

She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, then released it and laid her foot on his lap. He did his best to ignore the toned thigh and shapely calf only inches away. Instead, he cupped her ankle in his hand giving it a casual caress before pressing both thumbs into her instep. She moaned and instantly stiffened, her gaze flying to his.

“Sorry about the sound effects. That feels so good, though.”

“It’s supposed to, and it’s okay to make appreciative noises. It lets me know I’m doing a good job.”

Her curious eyes widened. “Oh. Okay then. Mark never wanted me to make noise at, you know, anything.” She swallowed audibly and fidgeted with her wedding ring. “So I’m used to trying to keep it down.”

Owen didn’t try to hide his disdain. “I can’t say I know who Mark is, but he’s clearly a fuckwit.”

She laughed, that full out belly laugh that made him want to puff up his chest for being the cause of it.

“Mark is my ex. We dated for a couple years back in college.”

He had access to all this and obviously had no idea what to do with it,
Owen thought, with an irrational surge of jealousy.

He didn’t comment further on Mark’s stupidity, instead resuming the massage, grinding the heel of his hand into the ball of her foot. This time the sound she made was more like a humming, deep in her throat. It went straight to his groin, and he shifted against the couch cushions, trying to make room for what was shaping up to be the erection of the century. He vowed that the second they were done he would hit the showers and take care of it himself. There would be no sleep tonight if he didn’t.

He watched her through eyes half-mast, and she finally seemed to be letting herself relax and enjoy. The tension drained from her body, leaving her soft and pliant. Part of him was glad, but the other part, the bigger part, where all the testosterone lived, didn’t want her relaxed at all. He wanted her to feel the way he did. On edge. Aroused. Wild.

“Switch feet.”

She did, lifting her head from the couch cushion to give him a sleepy smile.

“This is wonderful.”

“I’m glad.”

This time, he cupped her ankle in his hand, tracing the shape of her delicate bones with the very tips of his fingers. The tender skin was like satin and he found himself entranced, the need to bend low and explore it with his tongue so strong he very nearly groaned.

“Owen?” Lindy’s husky voice broke the spell.

He met her soft, wanting gaze and it took all his strength not to finish it. Oblige them both and slide his hands higher, make her scream until her throat was raw. Bare her to his mouth and tongue. Spread her legs wide enough to accommodate his hips, and thrust deep. But he didn’t.

“Yes?”

“N-nothing.”

Her breathing had gone shallow and through the pounding of the blood in his ears, he could have sworn he heard her whispered mantra, “Everything’s fine. Everything’s fine,” as she lay her head back on the pillow.

Only this time she was wrong. Everything was definitely not fine. He was as hard as a stone, and his partner in crime was obviously struggling with her own attraction to him. Which was all well and good, except she’d specifically asked him not to seduce her if he knew a relationship wasn’t in the cards. And suddenly the thought of using his experience to convince her made him feel oily. He liked this woman. She was the first truly good egg he’d met in a very long time, and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her. Not to mention they had an important job to do. The decision made itself, really. Unless something changed, suffer he would.

As Lindy let out another sexy, kitten-like purr, he wondered if there was a nice, icy lake somewhere on the premises he could jump into.

…

Lindy tried to be quiet as Owen used his big, strong hands to work her weary flesh like a master sculptor, but she’d never felt something so sublime. She watched him through her lashes and acknowledged that his focus alone was an aphrodisiac. He was absorbed in his task. She imagined that type of single-mindedness was a huge asset in his business. It probably didn’t hurt with the ladies either. She could easily see how being the recipient of such undivided male attention, however fleeting, could get addictive. The last thing she needed was to get addicted to something in as short of supply as Owen Phipps. Hell, already she was a touch away from launching herself onto his lap and shamelessly grinding against his hard body. His fingers tripped lightly over her ankle again and she shivered before reluctantly pulling away.

“Thank you,” she said, wishing her voice was a little less breathy.

“My pleasure.” His own tone was even, but the tension in his face gave him away. He wanted her, and she had no doubt that he would lavish the rest of her with the same attention he’d given her feet. All she had to do was say the word.

She stood while she still had the fortitude to do so and smoothed her dress around her hips. With a guilty glance at the smallish couch, she worked up her courage. They were both adults. Surely they could manage if… “I know you offered to sleep on the sofa, but there’s no way you’ll fit comfortably. The bed is huge. Even if there were four of us side by side, we’d never have to touch.”

He didn’t respond, his hooded gaze following her fidgety hands.

His silent regard was too much to bear and she rushed on. “If you’re worried about your virtue we can even lay put some pillows down the center to make a barrier.”

He grinned then and affable Owen was nowhere to be found. “It’s the couch for me,” he said, a note of finality in his voice. He stood and padded across the room, stopping in the doorway to face her. “The way things are between us right now, a row of pillows wouldn’t cut it. In fact, if you keep looking at me that way, I can’t promise the wall between us is going to hold all night. I’m going to take a shower. It’s probably best if you’re in bed when I get out.”

The second the door closed behind him she flopped backward onto the couch cushions with a groan. Twenty days of this to go. She’d never make it. The second she’d looked through that peephole and seen him standing there, heard that delicious accent, she should have engaged the deadbolt and run like hell. Melba was right. He was similar to James Bond, only hotter,
and
he was attracted to her. She had to stay strong, but for the life of her couldn’t get a grasp on how to do that. She was only human, after all.

The shower flipped on, interrupting her thoughts. Owen was right about one thing. It would be safer if she were hunkered down in bed before he got out. She pushed herself to her now-painless feet and made her way into the bedroom. She stripped off her fancy new duds, hanging them carefully before pulling on her well-worn Charlie Brown nightshirt. Eyeing the massive bed, she willed away the image of a naked Owen sprawled across it. Maybe she’d bite the bullet and break her own steadfast rule by leaving the blankets tucked in around her legs. The coffin-like prison might keep her from leaping off the bed and running him down to jump his bones.

She closed her eyes and swallowed a groan.

Oh yeah, it was going to be a long few weeks.

Chapter Nine

Owen awoke the next morning stiff from head to toe. And some areas were stiffer than others, he acknowledged ruefully, sparing a glance at the sheet tenting his thighs. Even after going it solo in the shower the night before, it had been a fitful sleep filled with dreams of intertwined legs, dueling tongues, and soft breasts. The cries he’d wrung out of her in his dreams, God, what man would tell a woman like her to be quiet? Not him. On the contrary, he’d make her scream until she shattered glass, that’s what he’d do.

He eyed the ceiling. This cherub-faced woman was going to be the death of him. He sat up and leaned forward, stretching his tight back muscles.

“I told you it was too small for you.”

Lindy stood in the doorway of the bedroom dressed in stretchy black yoga pants and a turquoise sports bra. The golden expanse of her flat stomach made him glad he was hunched over. Unfortunately, now he had to stay that way or risk an awkward introduction between her and Mr. Wood.

“It was a little tight. I’ll get used to it.”

“No you won’t. Tonight you’ll sleep in the bed. I’ll take the couch.” He opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off at the pass. “That bed is way too big for me anyway. I kept dreaming I was on the Titanic, and it was about to hit an iceberg. The sofa is plenty big enough for me, so don’t argue.”

He considered her logic and decided that it was easier to give in for the time being. If she was as sore as he was the next day, they’d fight it out. The irony of arguing with a woman for putting his comfort before hers wasn’t lost on him. Since he’d made his first million, it seemed as if every companion he’d had was in a race to see exactly how much she could get from him. Lindy truly was a breath of fresh air in so many ways.

“Today starts off with a ‘me time’ activity, so I’m going to head down, get some yogurt, and see what’s on tap. Do you want me to wait for you?”

“No, you go ahead. I have a couple calls to make and then I’ll be down. I wanted to contact Gavin and give him some of the names of the other couples and see if anything pops.”

“Won’t he ask why you want to know?”

“No. He runs checks on business contacts for me all the time. He wouldn’t have much of a business if he grilled his clients every time they called. He knows if I want him to have the details, I’d give them to him.”

“I see, Your Excellency.”

He raised his brows and grinned. “I approve. If you want to call me that from now on, I won’t object.”

“Bah! Not likely.” She crossed the room to the door, passing by his seat on the couch, giving him a glimpse of the most pert, spectacular ass this side of the pond.

“I’ll see you later on.” She closed the door behind her as he waved to no one.

Blowing out a sigh, he stood gingerly and took stock. His lower back groaned in protest, but it beat the shape he’d be in if he’d spent the night next to Lindy. He went into the bedroom, stripped down, and then donned a pair of track pants and a hoody. Grabbing his cell off the coffee table, he headed for the bathroom. He brushed his teeth while quickly scanning his messages. Mostly business, but two of his texts were from Cara.

Howz Houston? Close that deal yet?

And,

It’s Aunt Lena’s birthday 2day, so if she calls & thanks u for the flowers, say ur welcome, and u know how orchids r her favorite. Don’t worry, I charged ’em 2 ur account. Luv ya bro.

He whipped off a response, tamping down the nagging tug of guilt. It was bad enough to lie to her via text and email. He didn’t have the stomach to do it face to face, so he’d avoided her for almost two weeks now. He was sure she was getting suspicious. It was for the best, though, and once he’d done what he’d set out to do, he’d tell her the truth.

He opened up his email application and sent Gavin a list of the people he wanted to run a check on, including the resort staff members he’d met. That done, he made a split-second decision and decided to hit the gym before going to breakfast. Might help his back, and God knew he needed the physical outlet.

Ten minutes later, he stepped through the glass door of the top-of-the-line gym. The telltale clang of dumbbells hitting the ground reverberated through the room. He glanced toward the sound to see Nico Stephanopoulos flexing in the mirror.

“Morning,” Owen said, willing his teeth to unclench.

“Top o’ the mornin’ to ya, Owen,” Nico said with a grin.

Fuckwit.

Nico shifted under Owen’s gaze. “I can finish later if you want the place to yourself,” he said, gesturing toward the door.

Owen took a deep breath. If he didn’t master his reactions to this man, and soon, the whole trip would be a bust. As much as Nico’s mere presence made Owen’s skin crawl, this was a great opportunity to try and see which way the wind was blowing. Would he try to bring up some sort of shady investment opportunity? Or maybe lay the groundwork for a future strike? He pinned a half-hearted smile on his face. “Not at all. Please, go ahead.”

Nico seemed to think it over, then nodded, bending to scoop up the dumbbells again.

Rather than warm up on the treadmill on the other side of the room as was his habit, Owen opted for the free weights to encourage conversation. He did a quick stretch and went straight into his arm work. After a minute or so, ever the consummate host, Nico broke the silence.

“So, Owen, have you been to Colorado before?”

“Yes, many times for business, never for pleasure.”

“And which do you consider this?”

“Truthfully? Neither. My wife wanted to come, so we’re here. Not to be rude—I’m sure you have great results—but it’s not something I would have chosen to do. That said, it might work out in the end. I’ve made a few business contacts that show some promise already. If they pan out and the wife is happy, it will have been three weeks well spent.” That was an opening if there ever was one.

Nico moved to the leg press machine. “For your sake, I hope it works out that way.”

For a few minutes, the only sound was their heavy breathing as they powered through their workouts. Owen waiting for Nico to tug on the bait, even a little, but no go. Interesting.

“You married?”

Nico shook his head. “I…was.” He looked away, his throat working noiselessly. “My wife passed away two years ago.”

The guy was good. His voice actually cracked a little on the end.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It was a hard time, but we had a great marriage and I believe in the sanctity. Eventually, I’ll take the plunge again, but I’m too involved with this place right now to get serious with anyone. It’s noble work we’re doing here, and I’m not ready to set it aside or hand over the reins quite yet.”

Owen struggled not to launch himself at the pious bastard and shake him until his Chiclet teeth rattled.

“When I do get married again, I’ll make sure I can commit one hundred percent. You have to do that if you want it to work. If not, it’s impossible to be with only one person, ’til death do you part, don’t you think?” His dark eyes locked onto Owen’s.

Owen thought hard before he answered. He and Lindy had decided that consistency was key, but in spite of the fact that this was play-acting, it still grated on him to brand himself a cheater after seeing the pain his own father’s infidelity had wrought.

Focus on the end game,
he reminded himself grimly. “I wouldn’t know,” he said after a long pause. “That’s part of the reason we’re here. I was unfaithful.”

Nico nodded. “I see. I hope that The Healing Place can make a difference for the two of you. And don’t beat yourself up about it. Our therapists deal with this issue constantly. I think monogamy is in direct opposition to the true nature of a man. It’s a constant struggle, and if she’s willing to forgive you, you need to forgive you too. The measure of a strong couple is not the absence of mistakes, it’s the ability to work through them and come out the other side intact.”

Now, in spite of being a “believer in the sanctity,” it was as if Nico was absolving him of his infidelity. But then again, that’s was conmen did, wasn’t it? They watched, they listened, they learned, and then they told people exactly what they wanted to hear.

While Owen pretended to contemplate the other man’s “profound” advice, Nico stood, toweling off his face. “I’m going to take a quick shower and get ready for the morning’s sessions. It was nice chatting with you.”

“You too.”

Nico left and Owen stared after him, trying to put the pieces together. Even though he’d given him the opening to discuss business, Nico hadn’t bitten. He’d kept the focus on the retreat. Was Nico slow-playing him? They did have three weeks. Maybe subtlety was his game? Or maybe…

No. He refused to consider the idea that this was a genuine business venture. The signs all pointed against it. The short-term lease, the quick, slapdash manner in which he’d put together the company. Not to mention Nico himself. After some research, it became clear that he’d never held a legitimate job in his life. Why start now? Hell, if he was being honest, there was more to it than that. It couldn’t be a legit business, because if it was, Owen had failed his sister.

And that was unacceptable.

…

Lindy sat on a mat in the center of the room, trying not to nod off. A
Sounds of Nature
CD was doing its best to lull her into a sleep-deprived stupor. That would be a nifty feat, considering she was tangled up like a pretzel. Maybe it would’ve helped if the lights weren’t so dim, but Liza the yoga instructor preferred to work in the near-dark.

“Breathe in deeply through your nose, then exhale,
whoosh.
Very nice, Lindy. Bitsy, let your body relax into it more. You’re tense. Feel the breath moving through you, lengthening your muscles.”

The rustling of wind through a bamboo forest faded, only to be replaced by the plaintive call of whales and crashing waves. Lindy’s eyes drifted shut again. It had been a brutally long night. After her kiss with Owen and the most awesome foot massage in history, he’d handily usurped Ryan Gosling as the leading man in her dreams. And what dreams. Images of them entangled together tattooed the back of her eyelids. She snapped them open.

“Lindy? You still with us?”

“Yep.” She gave the pretty brunette a thumbs up and spared a glance at her watch. Twenty more minutes. Liza moved to the other side of the room to straighten out Jordan’s lotus pose, which she insisted snippily was perfectly fine the way it was.

“I’m not going to make it,” Bitsy whispered.

All the women had opted for the beginner’s yoga class over the “Dealing With Stress Through Meditation” workshop, and it appeared that poor Bitsy was regretting the decision. One would think, with such a small frame, she would’ve taken to it like a fish to water. Instead, her chin quivered as she failed, yet again, to contort her body into the next pose.

“It’s all right,” Lindy said from the corner of her mouth. She recalled her own first time doing yoga. She’d accidentally signed up for an intermediate class and was an absolute menace on the mat. She’d gone down like a brick during the “dancer pose” and took two other students with her on the way, resulting in a humiliating display of human dominoes. Since then, she’d stuck to DVDs from home.

“After this, you never have to do yoga again. Let’s talk about what we’re going to have for lunch, okay? I overheard someone say something about seafood. I hope they have salmon. Do you eat seafood?”

Bitsy nodded. “Shellfish only. Maybe there will be shrimp.” She focused on the conversation instead of the moves and her defeated eyes took on a speculative gleam. “Did you see they’re offering ballroom dancing later? Calvin would never, but it looks fun.”

“Part of this retreat is making sure you find what makes you happy, aside from being half of a couple. It’s about both people feeling fulfilled and getting what they need, right?”

The other woman nodded hesitantly.

“So go without him,” Lindy said.

She worried her bottom lip with her teeth for a moment. “Maybe. It’s funny you mention that, because Nico was saying the same thing.”

The door swung open, letting in a flood of sunlight. As if summoned by Bitsy’s words, Nico stood in silhouette, unmoving for a long moment, almost as if he knew how dashing he looked.

“Ladies,” he said, walking toward them, hands outstretched. “How are things here today? Everyone feeling limber?”

Liza crossed the room and gave him a welcoming smile. “What a treat! Were you going to do a demonstration for the ladies or are you just stopping by?”

“I thought I’d see how everyone was progressing, and if there were any students who could handle a more advanced class.” His gaze swept the room, landing on Lindy and holding. “Belinda, your form is excellent. Do you want to step it up a notch with me one on one, break a sweat?”

Bitsy let out a squeak of protest, and Lindy hesitated, but only for a second. Twenty minutes alone with Nico was too fat of a worm to pass up. “Sorry, Bitsy. It’ll be okay, I promise. Keep thinking about shrimp salad and the quickstep. I’ll see you at lunch,” she whispered and stood.

“Sure thing, but go easy on me,” she said to Nico. “I’m good at the floor work, but once I’m on my feet, it gets dicey.”

His white teeth gleamed against his olive skin and he held out his arm. “Deal. We’ll go next door to the smaller studio. I prefer it brighter. Is that all right with you?”

“Perfect.” Despite the fact that he was the trappee and she the trapper in this scenario, as she slipped her arm through his and they exited the room, she couldn’t help feeling a little “fly” to his “spider.”

Step into my parlor
…