Wife by Wednesday (8 page)

Blake rubbed his hands over his face for the umpteenth time that day. Samantha’s text message shook him and he hadn’t been able to speak with her since.

What the hell was Vanessa thinking? What did she say to his wife? Married less than a week and already Blake found himself trying to find ways of keeping his lover and wife separate. Blake hadn’t even spoke with Vanessa since he put the ring on Samantha’s finger. He’d tried to call her, once. But when her housekeeper said she wasn’t taking his calls, he didn’t think they had anything more to say to each other.

Jacqueline had sent him a cold “call when you’re tired of her” retort.

What did the word
viper
mean? It couldn’t be good.

Dammit. If it would take something other than a full day flight, he’d be on his plane now. Making rash decisions wasn’t his style. His plan was to return to the States Sunday evening when he could retrieve his wife and escort her to Europe.

Unless Samantha needed him sooner, he’d stick to his original plan. Still, the thought of seeing her held an appeal that rivaled breathing. Their conversations on the phone brightened his day in ways he didn’t expect. Their flirting would prove troublesome if they were in the same county. An ocean apart felt safe. Maybe that’s why Blake found himself opening up to her. Women had always been a game to be played. First in attracting them, which wasn’t hard, and then seducing them. Although he didn’t set a time limit with the previous women in his life, he never encouraged relationships to last longer than six months to a year. His attraction usually waivered much sooner than that. Monogamy and Blake were strangers. He inherited that one trait from his father.

Samantha didn’t need to be played. For the first time in his adult life, honesty with the opposite sex felt safe.

His phone beeped as a text message arrived.

“Sam,” he breathed her name. Hoping.

It wasn’t her.

He read the message from his bank informing him of activity on the credit card he’d given to his bride.

Maybe Vanessa’s visit wasn’t a complete waste, he mused. He noticed the amount charged and smiled. Samantha’s comment about women being emotional creatures swam in his mind. Apparently, his wife wasn’t immune.

****

Traumatic times in one’s life often led to a sixth sense about things. At least that’s what Samantha believed. Lord knew she’d shouldered enough drama to last two lifetimes in her short handful of years.

The camera-toting rejects moved on to the latest imploding starlet whose drug addiction and reckless behavior landed her in jail. Thankfully, they forgot all about the new duchess living in the lowlands of Tarzana. Yet still the heavy weight of being watched, the eyes of someone followed Samantha around.

And it was starting to piss her off.

The last year of her father’s freedom was anything but. Samantha had noticed new students on campus who never seemed to go to class, but always managed to cross her path. Dark cars followed her convertible and parked across the street from her hangouts. The phones in her home made a clicking noise whenever she picked up the line. It got to the point where Samantha dressed in her bathroom or the huge walk in closet to ensure some measure of privacy.

Blake hadn’t revealed all the particulars on who would be watching their marriage over the next year, only that someone would. Their time together would need to be convincing, their time apart seem difficult for both of them. She supposed the daily phone calls from Blake were a way of measuring their affection. At least the phone records would reveal a daily conversation.

Samantha convinced Blake that Vanessa’s visit hadn’t affected her. This was probably the only half-truth Sam had given to her husband to date. No need for him to know how tilted she’d become. Of course, her credit card bill spoke for itself. Julia Roberts’ movie character held nothing on Samantha. Designer suits, dresses, shoes, and handbags. She sat in a salon for a half day of manicures, pedicures, facials, and a haircut. A couple of large brimmed hats and dark sunglasses helped cover her appearance yet still the creepy sensation of eyes picked her out of a crowd.

“You’re being paranoid,” Samantha told herself as she pulled the shades down early in the afternoon on Friday.

Glancing at her watch, Samantha calculated Blake’s time in
Europe
. He’d done most of the calling and she thought it would probably look good for her to take the initiative if in fact someone audited the calls. She picked up the landline and reached for paper on her desk with his home number.

The dial tone buzzed, clicked, and buzzed again.

Samantha froze in place.

She knew that sound. Remembered it far too well. After dropping the phone back in the cradle, she considered her options. Calling Blake on her cell was one, but for all she knew a camera watched and a microphone was somewhere in her house. Thank goodness most of her recent talks with Blake had taken place on her cell outside of her house.

Leaving her house and making the call was another option.

Then there was option number three. If the person, responsible for bugging her phone were listening and hoping to hear a discussion about a fake marriage, they were going to be very, very disappointed.

The government had invaded her privacy before. The results were deadly. Although the stakes weren’t as high this time, there was no way Samantha was going to allow anyone a chance at taking what was rightfully Blake’s to keep.

For better or for worse, Blake was her husband… for the next fifty-three weeks anyway.

Samantha toed off her shoes and removed the cordless phone from the cradle once again. With her cell phone in the other hand, she first sent a text.

Are you home?

Her phone buzzed.
For the first time all week.

She started dialing his number.
Keep your cell handy and play along.

Blake stared at the screen of his cell phone and shook his head. “Play along? What’s that supposed to mean?” He was about to type in his question when his house phone rang.

When he answered, Samantha’s husky bedroom voice practically purred over the line. “Hi, honey.”

Honey? Where had that come from? He opened his mouth to ask but Samantha kept talking, each syllable more enticing than the next.

“How was your day?”

“Busy. I’m looking forward to a half a day off tomorrow.” His cell phone buzzed.
Do you hear that click in the line?

He read Samantha’s question and started to answer aloud. “Samantha, what’s going—”

“God, I miss you. I wish my passport would hurry up and get here so I can join you.”

Blake’s eyes shot up. Samantha didn’t sound like she’d been drinking, although he did like the thought of her missing him. Still, he knew bullshit when he heard it.

Someone is bugging my phone. Keep talking.

“What?” Bugging her phone?

“I said I miss you,” Samantha’s breathless voice wavered.

“I miss you, too,” he whispered slowly as he typed back.
WTF is going on?

Samantha chuckled. “You know what I’ve been thinking about all day?” The 900-voice collided with the text messages, both of which started to screw with his brain. If someone had bugged her phone, they’d been in her house. His jaw started to ache and heat built inside his body. He was too damn far away to reach her.

“No, why don’t you tell me?”

Being watched. Think someone’s listening to us now.

“I’ve been thinking about that sexy smile of yours.”

He hesitated in his text reply. “You think my smile’s sexy?”

“You know I do. I miss seeing the laughter in your eyes when we’re together.”

Blake knew her words were for the person listening, but the effect of them was no less potent. Samantha might not be an actress, but she was doing a hell of a job now.

We need to get you out of there.

“You know what I miss about you?” he asked, keeping the conversation exactly where she’d put it.

“Tell me.”

I have to agree with you.
She texted.

He was shocked she agreed without a fight. “What?”

“I said tell me what you miss about me.” Samantha redirected him.

Blake set the phone aside and concentrated on her words.

“I miss that wild hair of yours pressed on my pillow.” The image was one he pictured often, even if he hadn’t seen it...yet. “The way you moisten your lips right before I kiss you.”

“You do?” Her voice grew rough.

“I miss the lavender scent of your skin. I’m going to have the gardeners plant bushels of it here so every time I walk by I will be reminded of you.” Where had that come from? And since when was he a poet?

The phone was silent for a moment. “Samantha? Are you still there?” He glanced at his cell to see if she’d sent another text. She hadn’t.

“I’m here. I just… I need to be closer to you. Maybe I should move into your home in
Malibu
.”

He smiled. “I’m glad you finally agreed.”

“Everything happened so fast, I thought it would be best to move slowly. Now it just seems silly.”

“You’re an independent woman. I understand. But we’ll be spending time here in
Europe
and there. It would be better for you to get comfortable in both places. Then at least I know where you are when we have to be apart.” Funny, every word he said was true but if there wasn’t another set of ears listening, he probably wouldn’t say any of it.

“You’re… dammit!” Her expletive exploded from her lips.

The hair on his neck stood on end. “What’s wrong?”

“I-I stubbed my toe.” She sounded pissed, not hurt.

His phone buzzed.
Found a camera.

“What are you doing?” he asked. He took to his feet and started to pace.

“Picking out a few books to take to your house. When will you be here on Sunday?” If he hadn’t been listening, he wouldn’t have noticed the tremor in her voice. He pressed the number to Neil and sent an urgent text.
Get to Sam’s now! I’ll call you in a few minutes.

“I’m going to rearrange my plans and fly in sooner.” As in tonight.

“That isn’t necessary,” she said.

“I disagree. We’ve been apart too long.” Those words felt exactly right, despite their agreed upon contract.

She let out a deep breath. “You won’t get an argument out of me.”

“I’ll call later.”

“Don’t do anything rash,” she told him. “I’m fine.”

But he wasn’t. Someone was spying on his wife, listening to her conversation...watching her. And that was taking catching them in a lie too far.

“I’ll be there by morning.”

“I’ll look forward to it.”

Blake smiled and hung up the phone.

Pack what you need for today and tomorrow. Neil is on his way.

He placed a call to his bodyguard, explaining the situation. The next call was to his pilot. He rubbed his frustrated hands through his hair and scrambled to make arrangements to leave. His long-distance marriage no longer felt safe. His brain buzzed with an urgency that kept his toe tapping, his hands wringing to weave around someone’s neck. Would his cousin stoop to this level? Or was Vanessa utterly scorned and wanting some crazy revenge? Even Parker and Parker couldn’t be eliminated from the short list of suspects since they stood to gain an extra measure of cash should Blake and Samantha’s marriage be exposed as a fraud.

Twenty minutes later, his phone rang en route to the airport.

“Samantha?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” She sounded worn out. Depleted. “I’m at your place.”

“Then it’s safe to talk. My security would detect a bug. How are you holding up?”

She sighed. The sound grew heavy in his ear. “I’m pissed. I thought my days of bugged phones and hidden cameras were behind me. Who would go to these lengths, Blake?”

“I’ve been asking myself that question since you called. I have people working on it. We’ll find out.”

“Let me know what I can do to help. Whoever is responsible has an enemy in me.” The spark in her voice was better than the deflated one of a moment ago. His feisty redheaded wife could be a fireball when cornered.

“I’ll be in late tonight. What room did you chose?”

“Oh, ah, I-I wasn’t sure who knew what around here so I told Neil to put my things in your suite,” she stammered. “I can move.”

He warmed into the thought of her head on is pillow, her eyes drifting to sleep in his bed. “Don’t move. You’re right. I trust my staff, but I don’t think we should alert them.”

“Are you sure?” She sounded vulnerable again. The strong desire to pull her into his arms and envelop her with his strength was painful.

“Please. I insist.” He knew better than to demand. Samantha took his commands and tossed them in his face whenever possible. Asking nicely was new to him, but he grew better at the task every day.