The Trouble with Valentine's. Kelly Hunter

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СКАЧАТЬ sighed, heavily. ‘And you believed him.’

      Time to change the subject. ‘There’s leftover lasagne in the fridge,’ she said as she dropped her lipstick into her evening bag and turned to leave the bathroom, halting abruptly as she took her first good look at her brother. ‘Whoa.’ His dark, shaggy hair was filthy, his left hand was carelessly bandaged and his clothes looked like they’d been dragged through a sewer with him still wearing them but it was his eyes that bothered her most. Because they were full of frustration and pain. ‘You look terrible.’

      ‘I’m fine.’

      ‘Liar.’ He was holding himself so stiffly. Ribs, maybe. He sagged against the doorframe, his shoulder hunched and Hallie revised her opinion. ‘Shoulder?’

      Tris nodded. Every so often he dislocated his left shoulder. The first time he’d done it he’d been six and their father had rushed him to the hospital. These days Tris opted to do without the six hour wait in A&E and sort it out himself.

      ‘Have you ever considered a different line of work?’ asked Hallie, mainly because it needed to be said and who better than a sister to say it? ‘Because seriously, this undercover gig isn’t doing you any favours.’

      ‘You’d rather I sold shoes?’

      ‘Well, yeah,’ she drawled, and then forgot all about the insult to her current occupation when Tris leaned his head against the doorframe and closed his eyes. ‘You want me to put your shoulder back in?’

      Tris nodded, opened his eyes, pushed off the doorframe and went and sat on the edge of the bath. Hallie got up into his space, put the heel of her hand to his shoulder and lined up her weight behind it, ready for the hard, sharp push she was about to deliver. Better she put the shoulder back in than Tris trying to fix it himself using the doorframe. That never ended well. ‘On three, okay?’

      Tris leaned into her, as relaxed as he was going to get. ‘Just do it.’

      ‘Patience, grasshopper. Ready?’ Time to count off. ‘One.’

      Hallie shoved hard and in it went. Tris groaned and almost landed in the tub.

      ‘Thanks,’ he muttered hoarsely.

      ‘Not my pleasure.’ Hallie found painkillers in the bathroom cabinet, tipped three of them into her brother’s palm and watched him swallow them dry.

      ‘You done in here?’ he asked. ‘I could use a shower.’

      ‘No kidding.’ She hated to see him hurting. She was also reconsidering her dinner plans. ‘You want me to stick around?’

      ‘What? You’re going to cancel a free feed at Marco’s to stay here and fight me for the last of the lasagne?’ Tris summoned a faint smile. ‘Touching, yet stupid.’

      ‘The job went bad, didn’t it?’

      ‘I don’t want to talk about it, Hal.’

      Hallie sighed. He never did. Tris didn’t talk about his work. Ever.

      ‘Go,’ he said, waving her away with his bandaged hand. ‘I’m gonna take a shower and get cleaned up. There’s nothing you can do. Eat. Be merry.’

      And from within the confines of the bathroom as he shut the door behind him, ‘Don’t talk toothpaste.’

      Nick Cooper always gave a woman fifteen minutes’ grace. Any longer than that and he was inclined to leave or start without them. Fact was, women enjoyed keeping men waiting. They did it deliberately to heighten anticipation and make a man wonder. To make a man want. All part of the game, but then games were Nick’s specialty. For every attack, there was a counterattack, no matter how good your opponent. And Hallie Bennett’s fifteen minutes were almost up.

      Not that Nick was even sure she was dining with him – as she hadn’t called – but he’d headed for Marco’s regardless. A man had to eat. And call it a hunch but he thought she’d show. He browsed the blackboard specials, scanned the printed menu, looked around for a waiter and saw, instead, the delectable Hallie Bennett heading his way. Botticelli’s Renaissance, her colouring; she of the Titian hair, creamy complexion and golden-brown eyes. But her hair was cropped to chin length and her face was pure arthouse Animae; all big eyes, clean lines and memorable mouth.

      His body stirred and he narrowed his eyes in an attempt to conceal the fierce rush of anticipation that accompanied her arrival as he stood to greet her. Kissing that smart mouth of hers into submission had been an absolute pleasure. Getting to know the rest of her was tempting, very tempting, but the truth was he couldn’t afford the distraction. He didn’t need a bedmate this coming week; he needed a partner. Someone with an opportunistic streak, a quick wit, and a deft touch with the ridiculous.

      So far, Ms Bennett had impressed him on all counts.

      ‘Sorry I’m late,’ she said when she reached him. ‘I wasn’t sure I was coming until the last minute.’

      ‘What made you change your mind?’ he asked as he saw her seated and tried to ignore the quickening of his breath and of his blood.

      ‘Hong Kong and ten thousand pounds,’ she said, her accompanying smile drawing his attention to the generous curve of her lips, currently painted a deep, luscious rose. Her lip colour matched her dress, a sleek, cling wrap of a dress that emphasized the perfection of the body beneath.

      ‘I like your dress,’ he said with utmost sincerity.

      ‘Thank you,’ she said, her eyes lightening with a humour that was hard to resist. ‘I like it too. Have you ordered?’

      ‘After you.’

      She chose the clam chowder. He chose the reef fish and, at her nod, a bottle of white to wash it down.

      ‘I’m curious,’ she said once that was all settled. ‘You’re rich, you’re handsome, you’re healthy – you are healthy, aren’t you?’

      ‘Perfectly,’ he said, enjoying her candour.

      ‘So why do you need a pretend wife for a week?’

      ‘I’m negotiating distribution rights to a computer game my company has developed. Unfortunately, the distributor’s teenage daughter took a liking to me and I found it extremely difficult to, er, dissuade her.’

      ‘You mean you couldn’t fend off one fledgling female? You? You’re kidding me, right?’

      ‘Wrong.’ Nick sighed. He could handle predatory women, honest he could. But a semi-naked eighteen-year-old Jasmine Tey had cornered him in his bedroom late one night and the sheer unexpectedness of it coupled with more than one glass of his host’s most excellent rice wine had rendered him momentarily incapable of sensible thought. ‘She was very young,’ he muttered defensively. ‘Very sweet. I was trying to let her down gently.’

      ‘You invented a wife,’ guessed Hallie. ‘And now you have to produce her.’

      ‘Exactly. Will you do it?’

      ‘Why not ask a woman you already know to help you out? She’d probably do it for free.’

      ‘Because СКАЧАТЬ