Wilde at Heart (14 page)

She turned to repeat the pose on the other side and spotted him there in the doorway. She smiled. “Oh. Hey. I see you found the pillows. I saw them while shopping with Libby today and couldn’t resist.”

He looked down at the pillows still in his hand. He’d completely forgotten about the damn things and couldn’t remember what it was about them that had bothered him. He set them aside on her dresser. “You also picked up some of your things, I see.”

A bright paisley-print bedspread and more colorful pillows now covered the mattress and several boxes lined one wall, spilling clothes onto the floor. Her bird sat inside a bigger cage than the one it had traveled in, its head bopping to the beat of the music. Sam the Cat squatted on the end of her bed, eyeing the bird like he was considering a snack.

“Yes. Just enough to get by for a few months.” She sank deeper into Warrior II and closed her eyes, breathing slow and deep.

“How was your shopping trip?” he asked, unwilling to let the conversational ball drop.

“Successful.” She opened her eyes, and the corners crinkled with a smile. “I have clothes that won’t scare away your friends now. I also dyed my hair. Hope the red’s not too much.”

Hell, he was already so used to all of her bright colors and he’d been so focused on her lithe body, he hadn’t even noticed the change, but he studied her hair now. She wore it pulled back in a sloppy bun. It wasn’t an in-your-face kind of red, but soft and natural. It suited her while still being within an acceptable spectrum for hair color. “I approve.”

“Libby picked it out. She’s great. We had so much fun together. It’s nice having a sister who actually enjoys shopping.” Shelby smoothly shifted positions into the reverse warrior, raising one arm and bending backward, thrusting her breasts toward the ceiling. His mouth went dry at the memory of having her bare breasts under his tongue. He’d love to strip her out of her tight-fitting yoga outfit and drive into her while she held the downward dog pose until he allowed her to move…

And she shifted into downward dog.

Reece turned on his heel. “We need to leave for the party in an hour.”

S
helby straightened and propped her hands on her hips. That man. She’d been about done with her daily yoga routine when he walked in, and she purposely chose poses that highlighted her ass
ets. And still, he walked away. Here she thought last night had changed something between them.

Poe let out an alarmed squawk, and she spun in time to see Sam the Cat lunge for the cage from the bed. He didn’t make it, falling to the carpet with a muffled plop. “No! Bad cat!”

“Bad cat. Bad cat,” Poe echoed and if she wasn’t mistaken there was a note of triumph in his tone. They had been going at each other all day and, for all she knew, Poe had been baiting Sam this whole time.

“Oh, what am I going to do with the two of you? Might as well start calling you Sylvester and Tweety.” She shooed Sam from the room. He sulked out then turned in the hallway and gave her a look of abject feline betrayal. She shook her head. “Sorry, pal. You can’t eat my birdie.”

She shut the door, leaned her back against it, and scanned the room while Poe continued to chatter from his cage. It was all still sterile, even with her belongings scattered throughout, and she suddenly felt like an unwelcome stranger in a bizarre land. She wished she had more time to unpack, get comfortable.

Her gaze landed on the black lace dress she planned to wear tonight, hanging on the back of her bathroom door.

Okay, if Reece wanted to play it like nothing happened between them, she could do that. Just like she could go to this stuffy dinner party, learn the things she needed to know about his company, and not completely embarrass him.

She hoped.

“Oh God.” She banged her head against the door a few times. “What have I gotten myself into?”

F
ifty-five minutes later, Reece paced the living room and alternated between checking his watch and glancing toward Shelby’s door. Had she heard him say they needed to go in an hour? He’d been
in a hurry to leave her room to keep himself from doing something stupid, so maybe she misheard him or…

Another minute ticked by.

Damn. He really didn’t want to go knock on her door, but this was not the kind of party to be fashionably late for. He took two steps in the direction of her room, and the door opened. His breath of relief snagged somewhere around his Adam’s apple. Shelby looked…like a completely different woman. Red hair fell in loose ringlets around her shoulders. Her black dress was cocktail length and flared at the hips in a striking silhouette. Underneath the long lace sleeves, he saw no hint of her colorful ink and honestly, he wasn’t sure what to make of that.

She smirked. “Roll up that tongue and put it back in your mouth, Hershey.”

“Uh, sorry.” He re-hinged his jaw. “You look…”

“Like a good little housewife?” she suggested at the same time he said, “Different.”

“Well of course I look different. That’s the point, right?” She held out her arms and twirled. “Do I pass inspection, Mr. Wilde?”

No.
It was the first answer to pop to mind and he bit it back. This was wrong. This wasn’t Shelby, and asking her to change was wrong. He should call the whole thing off right now and figure something else out, but when he opened his mouth, all that emerged was a strangled, “We need to go.”

She nodded and disappeared back into her room for a second. When she returned, she wore a knee-length coat that tied at her waist and was in the process of putting in pearl earrings. He grabbed his own coat and held open the door for her.

Neither of them said anything during the nearly forty minute car ride to Irving James’s home, but when Reece pulled up to the gate, he couldn’t take the silence any longer. He turned in his seat to face her. “Are you sure you want to do this? It’s not too late to call it off.”

Smiling slightly, she reached over and cupped his cheek with her left hand. Light flashed off her wedding ring. “I’ll be okay. I won’t embarrass you. Promise.”

“It’s not that.” His gaze traveled out the windshield to the looming mansion. All that glitz and glam might look like a fairy tale from the outside, but he knew what lay waiting within. “Shelby, these people are—”

“Bunnies compared to the people I’m used to dealing with. The Headhunters are after my head, remember? Doesn’t get much worse than that.”

Another problem he needed to deal with. She didn’t want his money, but he had to do something to help smooth the
waters there until her insurance paid up. “That’s not a fact I’m soon to forget, but you’re wrong. Maybe these socialites won’t gun you down, but they’ll stab you in the back if you give them the slightest opening. Don’t give them one. Don’t trust anybody.”

“It’s only paranoia if they’re not out to get you, right?” When he didn’t smile back at her, she nudged his shoulder. “Relax, Hershey. I’ll watch your six if you watch mine. Now let’s go in before whoever is manning the security cameras wonders why we’re just sitting here.”

Yeah, she was right. He rolled down his window and hit the buzzer for the gate, waited a moment for a response, and stated his name. The gate slid open soundlessly a moment later, and he guided the Escalade toward the valet waiting in front of the house. “If you get cornered at any point during the night, your best bet is to play the dumb trophy wife. It’ll be what they expect from you, anyway.”

“Oh, dream come true! I’ve always wanted to be a trophy wife,” she said with mock excitement then rolled her eyes. “Not.”

He winced. Jesus, this was so wrong. If his mother were alive, she’d slap him silly for putting Shelby through this farce. “I’m sorry.”

“Reece.” She tugged on his jacket sleeve until he looked at her again. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be, okay? This is about more than me needing the protection of your name. I’m the reason you’re being blackmailed and I want to help. If I have to play the dumb trophy wife, then I’ll be the dumbest trophy wife around. Now deep breath and
woosah
. We got this.”

Impossibly, a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he climbed out of the SUV and walked around the hood to open Shelby’s door for her. She hooked her arm through his and smiled up at him like the smitten wife she was supposed to be. Damn, she was good. He had to give her that—as adaptable as a chameleon.

And if he didn’t relax, he’d be the one to blow up their little charade, not her.

Chapter Fourteen

T
he evening passed in a whirl of fake air kisses and small talk, and Shelby lost interest about halfway through cocktail hour. She’d played up the dumb trophy wife, but now as she sipped at her glass of champagne, she wondered if she’d done too good of a job. The women she found herself surrounded with gossiped endlessly about people she didn’t know and frankly, didn’t care about. But one of them was Irving James’s wife, Charlotte, and so she made all the appropriate noises at all the appropriate times.

Reece had been right. These people had teeth, and navigating the room was like swimming through a shark tank with an open wound. Honestly, she’d be more comfortable mingling at The Headhunter’s bar, but then, she’d been born into that world. A different universe, really, full of guns and drugs and the roughest of rough men. This whole entitled, born-with-a-silver-spoon life was so far beyond her, she could see why Reece had suggested the dumb act. There was no way she’d fit in with these people as herself. At least you always knew where you stood with The Headhunters.

And how interesting that Irving James, a man with such strict expectations of proper behavior, had a wife who was less than half his age. Hypocritical much?

Shelby was just about to make up an excuse to leave the group when a gorgeous brunette in a sapphire dress sauntered up and gracefully cut in to the conversation. She handled herself like she was used to swimming these dangerous waters. “Oh, I’m so sorry to interrupt, Charlotte, but is this Reece’s new bride?”

Charlotte tittered. There was no other word for the delighted sound she made. Yup, their wedding was already providing fodder for the rumor mill. “Alicia, this is Shelby. Shelby, Alicia Porter. I’m surprised you two haven’t met before now.”

“We haven’t had the pleasure,” Alicia said and smiled at Shelby. “But I was hoping to see you here tonight. Dylan has talked about you nonstop since Reece told him about you yesterday.”

Dylan? Shelby froze, her mind drawing a complete blank. On the way to the party, Reece had briefed her on the names she’d hear tonight, but she didn’t remember a Dylan. Probably because she’d only been half listening at the time, too distracted by nerves.

Okay, process of elimination. Reece had only gone two places yesterday that she knew of—the Wilde Security office, and nobody but his brothers would have been there, and DMW. So this Dylan guy must work at DMW and, if he and his wife were here tonight, he must be high up in the company. Maybe even Reece’s second-in-command.

She turned on the slightly vacant smile she’d been sporting all night. “I haven’t had a chance to meet Dylan yet. It’s all been a bit of a whirlwind.”

“It’s so romantic,” Charlotte said. “You
have
to tell us how you landed confirmed bachelor Reece Wilde. I honestly never thought I’d see the day he married.”

“He was never interested in anyone before,” another of the women—Lena?—scoffed and plucked the olive out of her third martini. Probably pretty at one time, she was starting to show some wear and trying to hide behind a spray tan, bleach blond hair, and plastic surgery. She sucked the last olive off the swizzle stick. “Tell us, what makes you so special?”

“Actually,” Alicia cut in, “I was hoping to steal Shelby for a little chat before dinner.”

Several of the women frowned disapprovingly at Lena, who snagged another martini from a passing waiter.

“Ignore Lena,” Alicia whispered as she guided Shelby away from the group. “Before she married her husband, she had a thing with Reece that went nowhere fast, and she’s been bitter about it ever since. But can you blame her?” She motioned to an elderly man already seated at the table for dinner. “That’s her husband. She’s been drowning herself in martinis waiting for him to die, but he knows it, and he’s stubborn. At the rate she’s going, he’ll outlast her.”

“Oh my God. She’s such a stereotypical desperate housewife, she practically breaks the cliché—oh.” Realizing she’d said her thoughts out loud, Shelby winced. “And I probably shouldn’t have said that. I promised Reece I’d behave.”

Alicia laughed. “No worries. I’m glad you’re not as cardboard as the rest of those ladies. I’ve known Reece since college, and it didn’t make sense to me that he’d fall for an airhead.”

Shelby decided in that moment, she liked this woman. “He…might have told me to play up the dumb trophy wife act,” she admitted.

“Oh, Reece, you knucklehead.” Alicia rolled her eyes toward the ceiling, then laughed. “He means well.”

A waiter stopped to offer them glasses of bubbly. Alicia accepted and passed one to Shelby, then clinked their rims.

“I know he does,” Shelby said after a sip, then sought Reece with her gaze. He stood on the other side of the room with a handful of other men in suits. Who knew what they were so intently discussing, but he was in his element here. Poised and confident, so different from the man who bumbled every time she made a pass at him.

“That’s my husband, Dylan.” Alicia motioned to the handsome blond man standing beside Reece. “And that Jeff Bridges look-alike is Irving James. The third.”

So that was the man Reece wanted to impress. Not what she’d pictured. Come to think of it, she wasn’t quite sure what she pictured, but it hadn’t been a distinguished, slightly grizzled gentleman with crinkles around his eyes and a bright white smile behind his graying beard.

Belatedly, she picked up the note of disdain in Alicia’s voice and turned back to the woman. “You don’t like him?”

“I don’t like his politics. He has a very antiquated view of women in the workplace. Or, for that matter, women in general. I honestly don’t understand why Reece feels this deal is so important, but he’s the boss.”