Wife for Hire (10 page)

She dropped the towel and met his gaze head on. “The more I’m around you, the less I want the answer to be ‘Get it out of your head’,” she said warily.

They faced off for an electric moment, until he tipped his head toward her. The scent of pears assailed him. “If you don’t want me to, say the word.” He drew close…closer, until their lips—

“Sorry,” a voice squeaked from the doorway. “I left my water bottle behind.” Bitsy scurried over, giving them a “don’t mind me” wave of her hands. “I’ll be out of your way in one second.” She scooped up her bottle in a flash and rushed back by them, hands shielding her eyes. “Please, don’t let me stop you guys from whatever it is you’re doing.”

Owen leaned his forehead against Lindy’s. “Saved by the bell, hey?”

She drew away and called after Bitsy. “Wait up! I was just coming to find you. Want to go for a quick swim before lunch?”

Bitsy hesitated, weighing the mood in the room. When it became clear that whatever she’d interrupted had died an abrupt death, she nodded apologetically. “Okay, then. If you’re not too busy.”

As Owen watched them go, eyes locked on Lindy’s swaying hips encased in spandex, he couldn’t resist calling after her.

“Chicken.”

Chapter Eleven

“Chicken my ass,” Lindy muttered to herself as Owen pulled the car out of the lot a couple hours later.

After her swim with Bitsy, they’d gone to the great room for lunch only to find there wasn’t a shrimp in sight. It had clearly been the last straw for poor Bitsy. Her face had crumpled, and she looked near tears.

“I sat through that whole dang yoga class, swam thirty laps, and danced my patootie off and now there’s not even any shrimp?”

Lindy had felt so sorry for her, she suggested they go to The Rusty Scupper in town. Bitsy would get her shrimp, and she would get some much-needed space. Only Calvin and Owen had caught them on their way out, and now the cozy twosome was an annoying foursome.

“What’d you say?” Bitsy asked with a questioning glance in Lindy’s direction. “You don’t want to order the chicken?”

Lindy winced. She hadn’t realized she’d spoken aloud. Luckily, Calvin had commandeered the front passenger seat and was waxing poetic on his business acumen in his thundering voice, so it was unlikely that either of the men had heard her. “Yeah, uh, chicken sucks. I’m so…sick of it.”

“At least wait until you see the menu to decide.” Bitsy gave her a friendly pat on the hand.

Lindy nodded and agreed to do just that. For the remainder of the short ride, she allowed herself to stew. Owen had a fat lot of nerve calling her a chicken when he wouldn’t even allow himself to consider an emotional connection with a woman. At least she was willing to take the risk. But then again, she’d had a beautiful example. Her parents had twenty incredible years together before their accident, and Lindy and her brothers knew one thing for sure. Life was too short not to spend every precious minute of it surrounded by people you loved. She’d be damned if she was going to ignore that lesson because of Owen. She’d do the job she’d been contracted to do, and then she’d go back to her life with her brothers, and her puppies and her Melba. Then, someday, when the time was right, she’d find a guy who would love her the way she deserved to be loved…the way she would love in return.

By the time they got to the Scupper and settled into their table, she’d managed to talk herself down. She’d spent more of her day annoyed at Owen for his little jab than she had doing her job, and her job was to gather information. With a renewed sense of purpose, she focused on the Cedarhursts. Owen had given her a look when he and Calvin had asked to join her and Bitsy, so she was pretty sure he intended to use the time to get some information from the man. While they discussed bull markets and brokers, she turned her attention to Bitsy.

“So have you been to a couple’s retreat before?”

Bitsy shook her head and leaned forward to whisper. “No. I was lucky I even got Cal to agree to this one. He’s only doing it to please me, but at this point, I’ll take what I can get, you know what I mean?”

It took all her strength not to shake the woman and shout,
“No! I have no earthly idea what you mean. Why would you ever take what you can get from this man?”
The woman was so sweet but so infuriating. Bitsy Cedarhurst deserved a lot more than Calvin gave her, but until the woman figured that out for herself, nothing would change between those two, fake retreat or no.

She posed more questions, but at a point they felt more like grilling than curiosity, and Bitsy seemed to clam up a little. When their lunches came a short while later, Lindy was grateful for the reprieve, especially when Owen took the reins.

“So what do you think of our host so far?”

“Stephanopoulos?” Calvin asked. “He’s all right for a pretty boy, I guess. A little much with the hippy dippy nonsense, but seems like a nice enough guy.”

“He’s very charismatic,” Bitsy added with a shy smile.

“He certainly is,” Owen said. He seemed as if he was going to say more, but then froze, gaze glued to a point over Lindy’s head.

“Honey?” she said, in hopes of snapping him out of his strange behavior.

“I think I just saw—” He hadn’t finished his sentence when she twisted around to see the restaurant door open and a young blond woman in a smart Burberry coat and black boots stalk toward their table.

“Owen?”

Her lilting soprano was at odds with her expression of shocked fury. She stood a few feet from their table, annoyance adding harshness to her otherwise soft features.

“Can I speak to you, please?” she hissed through her straight white teeth.

Three heads swung toward Owen, awaiting his response, which, at the moment, appeared to be stunned silence. Lindy was pretty floored, too. What were the odds they’d run into someone he knew the one time they’d left the retreat? Pretty high apparently, because here stood a woman—a scorned lover maybe?—who clearly knew him well enough to be angry with him.

“Cara, this is a nice…surprise.”

Cara.
Owen’s sister. The whole reason for their charade, and here she stood in front of them, exactly where she shouldn’t be. Lindy scrambled for an explanation, for something to say, but Calvin Cedarhurst beat her to it.

“Hello there, pretty lady. Calvin Cedarhurst, pleasure to meet you.” His gaze traveled the length Cara’s body in a way that could only be described as creepy, and he struggled to his feet. “Would you care to join us?”

Bitsy’s misery was so absolute that, even through Lindy’s haze of panic, she still managed to feel a twinge of empathy for the woman.

To Cara’s credit, she ignored Calvin and honed in on her brother. “You said you were in Houston.”

“Lindy and I were going through a tough time, and we decided to check in to a couple’s retreat. We felt that it was better to keep the details of our whereabouts between us. You understand how it is with married couples. Forgive me?”

The question weighed a ton and hung in the air like a Mac truck suspended by a fraying cable. Owen’s eyes pleaded with his sister, but she clearly didn’t know what he was asking for.

“And Lindy is…”

The defeat on Owen’s face spurred her to action. “Right here, silly! Like the new ’do, sis? I went dark and short because you know how your brother has that thing for Dorothy Hamel. Didn’t even recognize me, did you?”

Cara finally seemed to get it, or at least some of it, and nodded slowly. “Yeah. Looks good. Um, Owen, will you join me for a sec at the bar?” She didn’t wait for his answer, instead turning to give the rest of the table a finger wave. “It was nice to meet you, Calvin and…you as well.” She gave Bitsy a kind smile. “Sis, I’ll give you a call later, all right?”

This last was aimed at Lindy, who was too busy choking on her relief to do anything more than give Cara a thumbs up and bright smile.

Owen stood and wiped his mouth with the napkin. “Excuse me for a moment.”

He followed his sister from the room, leaving Lindy to contend with two curious sets of eyes.

She set her voice to stage whisper and improvised. “Owen’s sister is a drug addict, poor dear.”

…

“What the hell is going on here?”

His sister’s arms were crossed, and her eyes were spitting green fire. Rule number one when dealing with an angry woman? Deflect. “How did you find me?”

“Don’t pull that shit with me. I shouldn’t have had to ‘find you’.” She capped that last phrase off with what looked more like air claws than air quotes. “You should’ve been in Texas where you said you were. Imagine my surprise when I went to The Chelsea to drop off the suit I bought you and saw this on your dresser.” She held a crumpled pamphlet in her hand, and Owen sighed.

His sister had free reign of all his homes, including his Midtown penthouse. She popped by when he was away on business…almost never. He briefly considered questioning her about her sudden interest, but dismissed it. She was the only family he had. He never wanted her to feel like she wasn’t welcome. They’d spent the past handful of years building this bond, and he wasn’t about to set them back to save face. He’d been careless. She often bought him clothes on her travels if she found something she loved that would suit him. Many times she’d stopped by to drop them off on her way home from her shopping excursion. Since Nico had crushed her spirit, she had barely left her apartment, never mind gone on a shopping spree. Murphy’s Law dictated that the trend would start again right when he needed it not to.

The significance of her choosing to go out again wasn’t lost on him. Nor was the fact that she had done her makeup and had traded in her Häagen-Dazs marathon gear for some stylish clothing. She looked better than she had in months. “You went shopping for me?”

Some of the anger seemed to drain out of her, and she shrugged. “Yeah.” She bit her lip and shifted her gaze away before continuing. “Well, it was partly that, and partly because you were avoiding me and acting so weird. You wouldn’t call me back, then one time you told me you were going to Houston and then next you said Austin. I knew something was up. So maybe I’m not totally innocent here. I wanted to take a look around the apartment and make sure everything was all right.”

Understanding dawned, and he could practically hear the light bulb click on. “Wait a second, I didn’t leave that pamphlet on my dresser. You snooped through my stuff! Cara—”

She cut him off. “You think you have dibs on worrying? I worry about you, too. And I thought something was seriously wrong. You can’t imagine the scenarios I had painted in my mind. You were sick, your business was having problems, you joined a cult. Whatever it was, I knew you’d try to shield me from it, so I thought I’d poke around a little. I hate that it had to come to this, but I’m not sorry.”

He opened his mouth to rail at her, but then took a moment to really look at her. At the angrily tapping toe, the flushed cheeks. She wouldn’t be here ready to tackle him if she wasn’t on the mend. A warm sensation filled his chest. “I forgive you.”

“But that doesn’t absolve you of this sideshow you’ve got going on.” She jerked her chin toward the dining room. “What are you trying to pull? Talk to me about Nico and this Healing Place. Please. I need to know what’s happening.”

Tears filled her eyes, and he leaned forward to tug her rigid body in for a hug. “I’ll tell you everything, I swear. But we can’t do this here. I’ll call you tonight and we’ll meet somewhere safe to talk.”

“Is it even legal? Damn it, I won’t have you going to prison for me, Owen. It’s not important anymore. All I want is for you to come home.” She stepped back, her gaze pleading.

He steeled himself and shook his head. “I can’t do that. Not until this is done.”

Over Cara’s shoulder, he saw Calvin Cedarhurst barreling his way toward them. Owen tipped his head toward the door. “I can’t get into it any further. We’re about to have company. Please. Trust me on this. I promise I’m in no danger. If, after we talk tonight, you still want me to come home, I will. Deal?”

She nodded warily. “Okay. I’m staying at the hotel right next door so meet me at seven in room two-twelve.”

She’d slung her purse back over her shoulder when Calvin reached them.

“Where you headed, little lady? Care to join us for lunch?”

“Sorry, I’m on my way out.” She turned on her heel and headed for the door, Calvin’s gaze locked on her backside the whole way. Bastard.

“She’s a real looker there, O’Neil. Too bad about her being a junkie and all.”

Nothing had been easy to this point and with the arrival of his sister, no matter how it all turned out, things had just gotten a whole lot more complicated. The tension pooling in the back of his neck ramped up, and he nodded.

“Yeah, too bad about that.”

Chapter Twelve

“So you think he’s running some sort of major scam using the retreat as a front?” Cara asked.

Lindy sat across the dining room table from Owen and his sister in her hotel room later that night, marveling at their similarities. In spite of the difference in coloring and Owen’s insistence that they didn’t look alike, she was floored. They had the same mannerisms, the same cocky tilt to their heads, and even pursed their lips the same way when they were deep in thought.

“I don’t think it, I know it,” Owen said.

“What have you found so far?”

“Not much,” he said. “But we haven’t been here long, and there have definitely been some strange things happening. We just haven’t been able to piece it all together yet.”

“What do you think,
sis
?”

Cara turned her laser green gaze onto Lindy, but despite the little dig, she seemed genuinely interested in her answer.

Lindy thought about it for a long moment, knowing if she were in the other woman’s shoes that she would want an honest answer. “I think Owen’s right. Something feels…off. I know that sounds flaky or whatever, but that’s the best way I can describe it. Something isn’t right.” Lindy went on to describe the vibe she’d gotten from Nico, and the information Owen had dug up about the short lease. Cara listened attentively until Lindy ran out of things to say, which happened far more quickly than she’d hoped. She half expected Cara to hold Owen to his promise and make him pack it in right then, but she didn’t.

“Okay, so suppose you do find something? Then what?”

“We call the cops. Get him arrested.”

“No violence?” She tipped her head and pinned him with her stare, as if she could gauge the truthfulness of his answer with the power of it. It was spectacular, and Lindy could almost believe that was the case. It was hard to reconcile the woman before her with the shell of a person Owen had described only a few weeks before.

“If you got hurt, I’d never forgive myself,” she added softly.

“And if someone else got hurt because we didn’t act? Then how would you feel?”

She flinched. “Terrible.” She covered her mouth with her hand and shook her head. “I’ve been weak and blind. I shouldn’t have let him get off so easily. What if he already—”

“Don’t do that to yourself.” Owen leaned toward his sister and tipped her chin so she faced him. “None of this is your fault, but it is our responsibility to make it right. Stay here. Stay in Colorado so you can be here when it all comes down. Then we can face him together, and he can see that you are a hell of a lot stronger than he ever gave you credit for.”

Emotion clogged Lindy’s throat, and she swallowed hard. For someone who didn’t believe in romantic love, Owen sure had a lock on how to love family.

By the time they left an hour later, they’d made a pact to talk at least twice a day by phone and secured Cara’s promise to stick close to her hotel room and lie low.

Owen slid into the driver’s seat and let out a long sigh. “Jesus, that was almost a major clusterfuck.”

Lindy smiled. “You handled it well.”

“Thanks. I’m thinking in the end, this might work out for the best. Something you said in your interview stuck with me for a long time afterward. A person should have to face the person they hurt. If you could’ve seen my sister even a month ago, you wouldn’t recognize her today. It’s like her figuring out I was in Colorado to deal with Nico and coming to be a part of it gave her a sense of purpose or something. She looks…alive again. She didn’t for a while there, and it scared me shitless.”

“I can imagine.” She didn’t know how she would handle it if Nate or Mal had been treated the way Nico had treated Cara. That thought combined with meeting the woman herself tonight strengthened her resolve tenfold. She was going to have to start digging a little harder with Nico, even if it meant raising the risk factor. There was no way they were going home empty handed.

She gazed at the man behind the wheel, lost in his own thoughts, and made a vow. Before they left Colorado, she would make sure that Cara had the chance to face her tormentor.

One way or another, Nico Stephanopoulos would be stopped.

…

By the time Owen lay down in bed that night, the tension that had been gripping his neck from the moment he saw Cara’s face had finally ceased, only to be replaced by pains his conscience was giving him. What would his mother say if she could see him now, letting a lass sleep on the uncomfortable couch while he lay, sprawled on this sumptuous bed like he was king? His Excellency, indeed.

The day had been a whirlwind with Lindy and he bouncing from activity to activity, making connections and gathering information when there was some to be had. By the time they’d gotten back to the room after their meeting with Cara, he’d begged off going over their notes until the morning. When she hadn’t put up any resistance, he knew she was as beat as he was, which meant she needed sleep, and that couch was not for sleeping. She shouldn’t have to suffer that for the next few weeks. Problem was, already, he knew her well enough to know she would never agree to switching back.

There was one alternative.

Despite the close call earlier at the studio and his certainty it would do them both good, he had no plans to seduce her. For once, his intentions were entirely altruistic. As he recalled the image of Lindy panting in his arms during their dance, some might call them masochistic. Either way, the guilt wouldn’t allow him a good night’s sleep when he knew she wouldn’t be getting one.

He rolled onto his feet and tugged on a T-shirt before padding into the living room. Lindy was curled up on the couch. Her eyes were closed, but he could tell by her breathing she was still awake.

“Come on, faker, I can tell you’re not sleeping. Get up for a second and talk to me.”

She sighed and pushed herself into a sitting position. “I know what you’re going to say, and the answer is no. You sleeping on this couch is like a bull trying to squeeze into a bird’s nest.”

“I agree, but this is silly, too.” He gestured to her on the couch. “You were right about the bed before. There’s no reason we can’t be adults and make this work. We can do the thing with the pillows if it makes you feel better.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You said that wouldn’t cut it.”

“I know what I said, but we Irishmen tend to exaggerate. I won’t lie to you, Lindy. I want you. I also know you want me. But you already said it, you’ve made up your mind about us, and I’ve got enough self-control to keep my hands to myself. If it’s uncomfortable for either one of us, we’ll say so and come up with another solution tomorrow. What do you think?”

She shoved the hair from her eyes and nodded gratefully. “Okay. It’s been such a long couple of days. For such a ritzy place, you’d think they’d have comfy furniture. This thing is like lying on sacks of flour, for crying out loud.”

She rose to her feet and the blanket that had been draped over her fell to the floor. He groaned. In lieu of pajamas, she wore a pair of boy-cut Wonder Woman shorts that hugged her hips in a way that enticed him to follow suit. The serviceable, nude camisole top shouldn’t have been alluring, except the material had enough give that her unbound breasts jiggled enticingly when she shuffled toward him. He crossed the room to the closet and pulled down the extra pillows. Without fanfare, he tossed them to the center of the bed.

“Make your wall of feathers, and let’s get some sleep.”

She stripped back the covers and set the pillows in a line down the center of the huge bed, then stepped back with a nod of satisfaction. “Nate and Mal used to do this at summer camp back when they were young.” Her eyes lit up at the memory. “It was definitely effective, because neither one of them ever had to get treated for cooties.”

He grinned. “That’s reassuring. The last thing I need is another stubborn case of cooties.”

She laughed and plucked up the blankets, motioning for him to pick up the other half. They set the bedding right and he was struck by the pleasure he took in the homey task. He hadn’t made his own bed in ten years, but he couldn’t imagine he’d been smiling when he’d last done it. It was Lindy. Uncomplicated, low drama, no frills, fun-to-be-around Lindy.

They climbed into the bed, and Lindy sighed with pleasure. “That is sooo much better,” she said.

“I’m glad.” Silence stretched between them and he reached over to turn off the light. “I set the alarm for seven so we could compare notes before breakfast, all right?”

“Fine with me. I’m an early riser anyway.”

He smothered a semi-bitter laugh at that. He had set the phone in his pocket to vibrate at ten of seven in hopes of getting up and into the bathroom before she awoke and got an eyeful of the part of him that rose the earliest. He wasn’t complaining though. She was a trooper, and he couldn’t have asked for a better partner in crime. Having her happy and well-rested was a priority.

She shifted restlessly under the blankets, hunkering down and getting comfortable. In an attempt to think about something other than the supple leg that had poked out and hooked around the comforter, he tried to run through everything he’d learned today. So Nico had said he was married before, which, unless Gavin had missed something, was a lie. Was that important somehow or did he do it to lend credibility to his business—

“These pillows are so soft.” Lindy’s purr drew him like a magnet to metal. Now her scrumptious ass was wiggling and propped up outside the comforter too. Eight inches away and he was erecting a bridge that could close the gap…

Nico. Marriage. Think.

Thank God she finally settled and stuck out a toned arm to click off the light. “’Night.”

“Good night.”

He stared sightlessly at the ceiling, finding himself strangely torn. If they couldn’t enjoy each other physically, part of him wished he were less attracted to her so they could be friends after this was all over. After only eight days of knowing her, the idea of never seeing her again didn’t sit right. It didn’t sit right at all.

Sleep was a long time coming.

…

From his vantage point in the trees, he could just make out her profile in the moonlight. The palms swayed in the balmy breeze, as if in time to the music that poured from a nearby balcony. She moved closer to the water, and closer still, until the lapping waves roiled around her ankles in a bubbling froth. She lifted her hand to the string behind her neck that held up her dress, and a moment later it fell, catching on the tips of her naked breasts for a breathless moment before draping around her hips. She moved to strip it off, but he stepped forward, his conscience prickling.

“Don’t.” The word was torn from his throat because in reality, there was nothing he wanted more than for her to continue. He ached at the thought of her stopping.

She paused for a brief second before angling her body toward him, giving him an unobstructed view of her, naked to the waist. “Why don’t you come and help?”

The realization that she’d known he was there from the start sent a surge of adrenaline pounding through his veins. He strode through the sand, never taking his eyes off her. A dozen yards away…feet…inches, and then he was on her, crushing her torso to his, her hard nipples prodding his chest, branding him. His blood felt thick, like molasses, flowing to his cock, now fully rigid against his belly. He speared a hand through her short hair, reveling in her gasp. “Tell me you want this,” he groaned.

“I want this,” she whispered, her eyes snapping with blue flames. “I want this so badly.”

He bent to capture her mouth, nipping at her succulent bottom lip before stroking with his tongue. She moaned and burrowed closer, wrapping her arms around his neck. Gripping the cotton bunched at her waist, he drew it lower, past the curve of her hips, down her thighs until the hungry waves devoured it. He pulled away, desperate to see what he’d uncovered. Dusky nipples stood at attention like ripe berries waiting for his mouth. He fought the urge to take one between his teeth, instead letting his gaze travel lower, over the flat expanse of stomach, the navel that begged for his tongue. Inexorably down, to the place where her thighs met.

He lifted his head and caught her gaze, letting her see how she tore him apart, letting her witness the depth of his need. With a curse, he swooped down, capturing one nipple, laving it with his tongue. She arched her back on a muffled groan, her nails scoring his shoulders in a mindless caress.

“Owen, please.”

The scent of pears assaulted him, and he breathed in deeply. She was so present, so real. The fantasies plaguing him since he first met her had never been so all-consuming and he welcomed this new torture as much as he cursed it. She surrounded him in every way, her legs winding around his thigh, her restless hips pulsing against his distended length. Her hand slipped between them, cupping him through his pants, fingers wrapping around him, squeezing in a sublime caress.

“Fuck, Lindy, don’t stop.” His whole body stiffened at her touch, the desire to come a grinding need. He wouldn’t go without her, not even in his dreams. He reached down to cup her. Liquid fire. So damn hot. Dimly, he realized there was a thin, cloth barrier between them. Hadn’t she been naked?

She grasped his hand and shoved it inside her panties with an impatient cry and his thoughts blew away on the ocean breeze. It was then, with her wet, clutching heat drenching his fingers that his eyes flew opened and his heart leapt from his chest.

Not a dream. Lindy had changed her mind.