Wife For A Week Part 12

He shook his head and pulled the keys to his car out of his pocket. "I don't know what's going on between the two of you. I've never seen two people who looked and acted as married as the two of you did last week."

He looked at Angela. "If you're smart, honey, you'll marry him and put him out of his misery. I've never seen a man as wild-eyed as he was when he showed up at my house earlier today. He went to a lot of trouble to get me here and straighten something the h.e.l.l out... although I must confess I'm as confused as ever." He shrugged. "I'm going back to Mustang, where my wife is my wife and I know where things stand." He turned and walked to the curb where his car was parked right behind Hank's.

"You crazy fool," Angela said, remembering what he'd said that last night in Mustang. "You went to a lot of trouble to prove a point that wasn't a point at all." Her defenses were back firmly in place.

"What do you mean?" He looked at her in genuine bewilderment.

"You told me you realized the company was firm financially, that it wouldn't have mattered if you'd lost the Robinson account," she replied, desperately guarding her heart against his handsome presence.

He stared at her for a long moment. "Take a ride with me, Angela."

"What?" His sudden s.h.i.+ft in conversation confused her.

"Come on. Just take a ride with me. There's something I want to show you." He reached out a hand toward her.

"What do you want to show me, Hank?" She wanted to scream at him, stomp her feet and beg him to go away. She wanted to fling herself in his arms and beg him to hold her tight, tight enough for a single embrace to be enough to last her a lifetime.

"Just please come with me." His eyes held a soft vulnerability that pierced through every defense she'd tried to erect against him.

Despite her resolve to the contrary, she placed her hand in his and allowed him to pull her toward his car. She knew she was crazy to spend a minute, a second in his presence. The talk with her mother had left her confused, weak and vulnerable and the last thing she wanted was to fall prey to his fantasy of love for her.

She got into the pa.s.senger seat, grateful that the warmth of his hand no longer enclosed hers. As she waited for him to get into the driver's seat, she summoned her strength, sensing she would need all she could muster for whatever new a.s.sault he had in mind.

He slid behind the wheel, smiled at her, then started the engine and pulled away from the curb. "Did you get my message this morning?" he asked once they were on the freeway heading out of town.

"You mean that excessive display of nonsense?" she said. She knew she was being mean, but she didn't know how else to keep her emotional distance.

He winced. "Ouch."

"Where are we going?" she asked, then continued before he could reply. "It doesn't matter where you take me, Hank. You could fly me to the moon and it won't make any difference."

"Indulge me, Angela," he said softly. "Perhaps my previous attempts have been extravagant and excessive, but this is the first time I've been so much in love and I don't know the rules."

Angela turned her head and stared out the pa.s.senger window so he wouldn't see the aching tears that burned at her eyes. She should have slammed her door in his face. She should have never allowed him to get her into the car. A break was coming, an emotional breakdown she knew would only embarra.s.s herself and probably him as well.

They drove in silence, her refusing to look at anything but the pa.s.sing scenery, and him concentrating on maneuvering through the rush-hour traffic.

After about fifteen minutes he exited off on a road Angela had never been on. After a right turn, then a left, they turned onto a dirt road that appeared to lead to nowhere.

Angela s.h.i.+fted in her seat, trying to imagine what insane stunt he intended to pull next. A field with her name plowed in the dirt? A building with her name spray painted on the side?

It didn't matter. Nothing mattered. Nothing Hank Riverton said or did would change her mind. She'd never believe he really loved her. She'd never allow herself to hope...to dream, because the reality hurt too badly.

Chapter Eleven.

Hank was out of ideas. Courting the women he didn't care about had been easy. Wooing the woman he loved was the most difficult thing he'd ever done.

He'd spent the entire evening the night before with a Realtor. It was as if all the stars of his fortune had aligned themselves in good luck. The moment Hank had seen the third piece of property the Realtor showed him, he knew it was the place of his dreams, the enchanted land that held his future. Now all he had to do was convince Angela that she was a part of that future.

He looked over at her, his heart thudding so loudly he wondered if she could hear. His palms were damp on the steering wheel. Instinctively he knew he was at the end of the line, that either she loved him or she didn't, that if she denied him this final declaration, he would have to find a way to live without her. And that thought truly terrified him.

He remembered her laughing and telling him he was never alone, implying that he always had some gorgeous woman on his arm for company. But he hadn't lied to her when he'd told her he felt alone. Every day of his life he'd felt alone until that week with her.

Now that he had her so firmly in his heart, he couldn't imagine living the rest of his life without her. Within minutes they'd be at the place where he intended to spend his future. He couldn't imagine her not being there to share that future with him.

He didn't say a word as he turned down the dirt lane that led to the ranch house. In the distance, a gray, weathered barn rose, topped by a copper weathervane. He pulled to a stop in front of the house, shut off the engine, then turned to look at Angela.

She stared out the winds.h.i.+eld at the house, her features expressing absolutely no emotion whatsoever.

"It's what we talked about that last night in Mustang," he began, wondering if she could hear his words over the frantic pounding of his heart. "A nice little ranch house with small acreage, a barn for a couple of horses, and a white fenced yard. All it lacks is the flowers you'll plant."

"Why are you doing this?" She finally looked at him, her beautiful brown eyes awash with tears. "Why are you torturing me this way?" She opened the door and stumbled from the car.

Hank got out of the car and walked to where she stood, her gaze focused on the house while tears slowly coursed down her cheeks.

Her tears were his pain. She didn't want him. She didn't love him. If she did, she wouldn't find his words of love such torture, she wouldn't be so unhappy.

He walked up to the house and sat on the porch, facing where she stood. Drawing a deep breath, he raked a hand through his hair, a dull, hollow emptiness echoing in his heart. "I don't know what to do," he finally said. He knew the abyss of his heart showed in his eyes, it was impossible for such an ache not to show. "I don't know how else to make you understand how much I need you, how much I love you."

The hurt he'd felt when Sarah had left him had been nothing compared to the pain that ripped through him as Angela remained standing where she was, her tears testimony to an unhappiness that could only bode ill for him.

"Tell me you don't care about me, Angela, and I'll leave you alone." He stood and walked to her, stopping only when he was mere inches away from her. His impulse was to take her in his arms, hold her against his heart so she could hear the love that beat with every pulse.

But, he didn't touch her. "Tell me that you don't feel anything for me and I won't bother you again. But you have to look me in the eyes and tell me that you want me to go away. You need to look me in the eyes and tell me there's no hope." His voice broke as he whispered the last sentence.

She closed her eyes, tears seeping from beneath her eyelids. She drew a deep, shuddery breath, then opened her eyes and met his gaze. "Hank, that week in Mustang was magic... but it was all pretend." She swiped her tears away and straightened her shoulders. "Nothing was real that week and what you're feeling now isn't real."

Hank no longer fought his need to touch her. He grabbed her shoulders, an edge of anger rising up inside him. "Don't tell me what I'm feeling isn't real. I know what's in my heart and I know the difference between real and pretend."

His anger seeped away as unbearable pain tore through him. "I love you, Angela. I want to wake up each morning with you in my arms, and go to sleep at night knowing you're sleeping next to me. Now tell me you don't want me. Tell me you don't care about me."

Angela shoved away from him. "I can't tell you that. Don't you understand anything? I can't tell you I don't care about you. I can't tell you I don't love you."

Her words sang through him, but he still saw no happiness s.h.i.+ning from her eyes, no antic.i.p.ation of a future shared. He placed his palms on either side of her face, wondering what was going on in her head. What barrier still kept him out of her heart? "Talk to me, sweetheart. Tell me what's wrong... tell me why you're crying."

"I'm afraid." The words fell from her lips as if torn from someplace deep within her.

"Afraid of what?" he asked. With his thumbs he gently wiped her tears.

Once again she stepped away from him. She wrapped her arms around herself as if creating a physical barrier against him... or an enclosure of self-protection. "I've only loved one man in my life, Hank, and he walked out of my life without a backward glance. I couldn't stand it if I gave you my heart and after a while you gave it back to me."

"Oh Angela." Hank's heart ached for her. "If I could, I'd go back in time and I'd be your father and fill the void he left when he walked out on you. But I can't be your father... I can only be the man who loves you, who will love you for the rest of your life."

"But, that's not possible," she exclaimed. "I'm...I'm not pretty. You can't love me...not really."

Hank stared at her in utter amazement. "Who on earth ever told you that you weren't pretty?"

"My father."

Hank drew in another deep breath, wondering how it was possible to despise a man he'd never met. "Come here," he said and held out his hand to Angela. "Come on," he urged gently. "Let's sit down on the porch and talk."

She hesitated a moment, her brown eyes seeking his for some sort of a.s.surance. He nodded, smiled and she placed her hand in his. Together they walked back to the front of the house and sat down side by side on the porch.

"Now, tell me when you had this enlightening conversation with your father," Hank said, refusing to release her hand.

Her cheeks blushed and Hank knew he would do anything to see that this woman was never again hurt by anyone. "It was right before he left us," she began, her voice a whisper of remembered pain. "He told me I'd never be able to depend on my looks, so I'd better be smart." Her gaze was directed to a distant field, as if looking at him while she spoke her father's words would be too painful.

"Now let me tell you something, Angela Samuels," Hank said. He used two fingers beneath her chin to move her head so she had to look at him. "That means you were what, eight or nine, when he said that to you?"

She hesitated, then nodded.

"Honey, I've never seen a nine-year-old girl who I thought might grow up to be a raving beauty. How could your father know, how could he see into the future to know what you would look like at twenty-eight years old?"

"But..."

Hank touched a finger to her lips to still whatever protest she might have launched. "How could he have known that those caramel-colored eyes of yours would s.h.i.+ne with such splendor? How would he know that your smile could light up a room, fill the universe with warmth?"

He stroked a finger down the silky skin of her cheek. "How could a man callous enough to leave his children behind and never look back, know what real beauty is?"

He saw the result of his words getting through, saw it in her small intake of breath, the slight relaxation of her body so close to his. It was a small crack in the armor she wore around her heart.

"Angela, I love you. And when I look at you, my heart beats faster, my pulse races, warmth fills me up. You are more beautiful than you'll ever know...because you're the woman I love."

A sob escaped her, a sob not of tremendous pain, but rather the sound of pain letting go... giving way and allowing s.p.a.ce for a new emotion to appear. "I love you, Hank."

His heart, the very spirit that kept him alive, soared with joy at her words. Amazing that those words alone were enough to make him believe anything was possible, to believe that he'd been gifted with the most precious treasure on earth.

He stood, and pulled her up with him. He held back nothing as he wrapped his arms around her, pulled her to him in an embrace. "I love you, Angela. Marry me. Be my wife. Share my life with me here, in this house."

She started crying again, but this time he knew the tears did not come from sadness, but rather the happiness of a woman growing sure of the love of her man. "Yes," she managed to say. "Yes, I want that..."

She had no opportunity to say more, for Hank couldn't wait another minute to claim her lips with his. He kissed her, long and deep, sealing their future together with the promise of love forever more.

When he ended the kiss, she touched his face lovingly. "I think I fell in love with you on the first day I met you...that first day I interviewed for the job as your secretary." Her eyes widened and she stepped back from him. "Hank...what about the interviews today. If you drove to Mustang, then you couldn't have interviewed for a new secretary."

"Don't worry about it," he said as he once again drew her close. "Secretaries come and go. I can always hire a new secretary...but wives...now that's a different story altogether. I make you a vow right now, you're the only wife I'm going to have for the rest of my life."

As she gazed at him, the golden light of love flowing from her eyes, bathing him in warmth, he knew he would love her, this woman, his former secretary, his life...until the end of time.

Epilogue.

Angela stood staring in the dresser mirror in the bedroom where she and Hank had shared their week of pretend marriage. Clad in a wedding gown with tiny pearl seed b.u.t.tons and an overlay of delicate lace, she was a vision from her favorite fantasy. Only this was reality, and in just a few minutes she would become Mrs. Hank Riverton.

She s.h.i.+vered with delight, thinking back over the past four weeks. It had been a month since she and Hank had stood before the ranch house and proclaimed their love for one another.

The past thirty days had been a whirlwind of excitement as they prepared for a wedding that would make them the married couple they had once pretended to be. It had been Brody's idea that they wed in the library where they had attended Barbara's marital enrichment workshops. Hank and Angela had agreed, deciding a small, intimate ceremony was exactly what they wanted.

Throughout the last couple of weeks, Angela's love for Hank had grown with each day that pa.s.sed. They spent every spare moment of every day together, working on ad campaigns, planning their future together and getting the ranch house ready for their occupancy.

She turned from the mirror as her mother entered the bedroom. Janette's smile was filled with love as she gazed at her daughter. "You are absolutely stunning," she said.

Angela blushed, then took one last look in the mirror. "I'll do," she said simply.

In Hank's love, he had given her the greatest gift of all...the ability to look at herself in a mirror, to accept her strengths and acknowledge her weaknesses. He'd made her realize that beauty had nothing to do with physical features, but rather came from a place in the heart. And her heart was filled with it.

"They sent me up to tell you it's time," Janette said. She walked over and kissed Angela on the cheek. "I'm so happy for you, Angela. This is one of the happiest days of my life."

Angela hugged her mother tightly. "I love you, Mom."

"And I love you, but there's a man downstairs who has been pacing the length of the floors for the last fifteen minutes, eager to show you just how much he loves you."

"Yes, I'm ready." Angela smoothed a trembling hand down her dress.

Angela and her mother left the bedroom. Janette preceded her daughter down the wide staircase. As they got to the bottom of the stairs and approached the library door, all the lights in the house went off.

"Mom?"

"It's all right, honey," her mother a.s.sured her as she pulled open the doors to the library.

Angela caught her breath at the sight that greeted her. Candles. Hundreds of them lit the room, and the scent of orange blossoms wafted in the air.

Candles and orange blossoms. She remembered the day she and Hank had been driving to Mustang for the very first time and they'd discussed the wedding ceremony they'd supposedly shared. The scene in front of her was exactly like she'd described to him on that day. He'd remembered.

He stood by the stone fireplace, looking achingly handsome in a black tuxedo with a pale pink c.u.mmerbund and bow tie. He'd remembered it all. and her heart expanded with the wealth of love that flowed through her.

Angela walked toward him, drawn by her love and by the love that shone from his eyes as he looked at her. This man loved her, and she knew in her heart he would never leave her. What they had found together was special... the magic that happens when everything is right.

"You two aren't pulling anything over my eyes this time," Brody's voice boomed out. He pointed to the minister waiting next to Hank. "I checked that man's credentials. He's a real preacher and this is going to be a real wedding." He grinned first at Angela, then at Hank. "And d.a.m.ned if I don't hope we have a real baby within the next year."

Barbara placed a restraining hand on her husband's arm. "Okay, sweetheart, now let's get on with it."

The ceremony pa.s.sed in a haze. As Hank slipped his mother's ring on Angela's finger, she realized he'd had it sized and it fit perfectly. Like they fit perfectly. As the preacher announced them man and wife, Angela looked into her husband's eyes and knew she was beautiful because she loved and was loved.

ISBN : 978-1-4592-5979-9.