Husband By The Hour. Susan Mallery

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      “I don’t recall asking your opinion.”

      “Hey, don’t worry, babe. I’m not going to charge you extra for it. I’ve run plenty of scams in my time.”

      “I’m sure you have.”

      He winked. “Some of them have been legitimate.”

      “Want to give me a percentage?”

      “Not really. The trick is to keep them as close to real as possible. You should have brought the ex with you. It would have been a lot easier.”

      “He wasn’t available right now.”

      “Traveling on business?”

      She wondered what Nick would say if she told him about Shawn. She could already hear the teasing remarks. Better to walk on broken glass and eat poisoned dung beetles for breakfast.

      “You might say that.”

      “I might. What would you say?”

      She sucked in a breath. “Shawn is working right now.”

      “Oh. Shawn. Let me guess. Some Ivy League type with three numbers after his name and a pedigree longer than the grand champion at a dog show.”

      She bit on her lower lip to keep from laughing. Please, God, never let Nick find out the truth. “Sort of.”

      Nick stewed over that for a while. She watched the mile markers zip by. Ten minutes later, he said, “You never finished answering my question. Why didn’t you tell your mother the truth when you talked to her on the phone?”

      She crossed her legs and folded her arms over her chest. “I haven’t actually spoken with her on the phone. We’ve been writing letters.”

      “Why? Wouldn’t it be easier to pick up the phone and call?”

      “No, it wouldn’t”

      She half turned in the seat, facing away from him as much as the seat belt would allow. He couldn’t understand her mixed emotions about what was happening. His life was so different from hers. Nick was one of those people who was blessed. He had good looks, charm, wit, a sharp mind. It was unfortunate he’d chosen to use his talents the way he had. If he’d been honest, he could have gone far.

      It was different for her. She had to worry about things. She wasn’t gifted. People thought she was so calm and composed, but she felt like a poster she’d once seen of a swan. Above the surface, the bird seemed to be gliding along, but underneath the water, where no one could see, its feet were working like crazy to keep up the facade.

      From the time she’d lost her parents and been dumped in her first foster home, she realized that no one wanted her around. She couldn’t remember the number of times she’d been told the state wasn’t paying enough for the family to keep her for long. She’d lost track of the number of houses, apartments, schools she’d been in.

      For a while, she’d wanted to fit in, to belong. She’d really tried. But her attempts hadn’t been enough, or she’d done it the wrong way, because no one had noticed. Eventually, she stopped trying. Sometimes the people were nice enough, but she learned early on not to depend on anyone but herself. It was better not to care. Nothing ever lasted. Even when it seemed things were working out, she was always sent somewhere else.

      She felt his hand on top of hers. She pushed him away.

      “Hannah, honey, I know you’re scared. But it’s going to be okay.”

      “I’m not scared and you don’t know it’s going to be okay.”

      “Sure I do. I’m here. I’m going to make it work. You’ll see.”

      She sniffed and ignored him. Cheap talk from someone used to buying whatever he wanted. Actually, she didn’t know that about Nick; she was only assuming. But it was probably true.

      Instead of taking the broad hint, he once again put his hand on top of hers and squeezed gently. The comfort meant a lot to her, even though she didn’t want to tell him. It would be too much like giving in. She was convinced that if she gave in—even a little—she would suffer for the rest of her life. So she held back. Resisted. Didn’t say anything. She didn’t trust Nick. She wasn’t even sure she liked him.

      But when he nudged her, she turned her hand over and let him lace his fingers through hers.

Chapter Three

      Nick checked the rearview mirror. There was no one behind them but truckers and no one was going the speed limit. He touched a button on the cruise control panel, then glanced at Hannah. She was leaning against the passenger door, her head resting on the window. She’d been asleep for most of the morning.

      He slipped a tape of classical music into the cassette player and kept the sound low. She didn’t stir. He was glad. She obviously needed her rest The shadows under her eyes weren’t all from her hangover. No doubt the stress and worry about meeting her birth mother for the first time had kept her up nights.

      Her color was better now, her breathing steady. Of course, her color wasn’t quite as high as it had been when he’d kissed her.

      He grinned at the memory. Kissing Hannah Pace was something he should have done a long time ago. Not only for the pleasure it had given him, but because it had left her speechless.

      Oh, he’d thought about it. He couldn’t be around Hannah for more than five minutes without thinking about kissing her and touching her. She was the kind of woman who lent herself to wicked thoughts—at least in his mind.

      He’d wondered if she would resist the kiss and the heat it generated. Passion could be disconcerting if one was used to constantly being in control. He suspected Hannah prided herself on being in control. But she hadn’t resisted or pretended not to respond. Even if he hadn’t felt the clinging sweetness of her mouth, her fire-filled eyes and uneven breathing had given her away. Yup, kissing Hannah had been a great idea. He’d imagined it would be terrific, and the real thing had been better than any fantasy. He couldn’t wait to do it a second time.

      He checked on her again, but she was silent and still asleep. Was she dreaming? Was she worrying about what was going to happen? Did she regret her confession?

      Hannah had been married. He thought he’d figured her out, but that piece of information had stunned him. Married. He swore under his breath. Why hadn’t he known?

      “Why does it matter?” he asked himself softly, then decided he didn’t want to know the answer.

      Married. To whom? Not a cop. She wouldn’t have been able to keep that quiet. He would have heard about it—some kind of hint would have surfaced in the past year. He knew all about gossip at a police station. Everyone knew everyone else’s business.

      Who would Hannah have married and then divorced? A successful businessman with shady dealings? He grimaced. Hannah wasn’t the type to get involved with a criminal. That’s one of the things he liked best about her—her principles. Of course, those high standards СКАЧАТЬ