Wife For A Week Part 2

"My goodness. It's a mansion," Angela exclaimed.

Indeed it was a mansion. The house was a twostory structure of mammoth proportions. Above the wrapping veranda with its ma.s.sive columns, two balconies protruded out from the second floor.

In the distance a series of outbuildings could be seen along with hundreds of jersey cows dotting the seemingly never-ending pasture.

"Quite impressive," Hank said as he pulled the car to a halt in front of the main house. "Brody never does anything halfway." He turned off the engine and at that moment Brody Robinson barreled out the front door and toward them. Hank turned and grinned at Angela, who looked tense. "We're on," he said softly. "Act married."

Brody yanked open Hank's car door. "Hank, it's good to see you." The big, burly cowboy half hauled Hank from the car, then raced around to help Angela out. "And you must be the little lady," he exclaimed as he wrapped Angela in a bear hug. "Come on in and meet my better half. Don't worry about the bags. I'll have one of the hands bring them in."

As Brody lead them from the car, Hank took Angela's hand in his. Cold. Like ice. He flashed her a rea.s.suring smile. She returned him a tentative one.

"Barbara," Brody bellowed as they walked through the front door and into a huge entryway. "The first of our guests have arrived."

He grinned at Hank and Angela. "The other couples will be here later this evening." They all turned at the sound of approaching heels against the marble floor. "Ah, here's my bride now."

Tall and slender, attractive with short gray hair and vivid green eyes, Barbara Robinson exuded warmth and friendliness. Brody threw his big arm around her shoulders and made the introductions. "This is Hank, the mastermind behind our ad campaign, and his lovely wife, who he sometimes calls Marie and sometimes calls Angela."

"Please, make it Angela," Angela said as she accepted the hand Barbara offered. "And thank you for inviting us into your home. Hank and I have been looking forward to being here."

Hank felt a swell of pride. Angela sounded gracious and sincere, two qualities he'd want in a wife...if he wanted a wife.

"Please, come into the living room. I've just made some fresh lemonade. We'll visit a little bit before we get you settled into your room." Barbara led them into the large living room and gestured toward the sofa. "I'll be right back with the refreshments."

As Barbara left the room, Hank sat on the sofa, Angela by his side. Brody sank into an overstuffed chair across from them. "You came through Mustang?" he asked.

Hank nodded. "Nice little town."

"Best d.a.m.n town in the whole United States," Brody exclaimed. "Best d.a.m.n people in the whole world. Barbara and I love it here. We've only been here a couple of months, but wouldn't consider living anywhere else on earth." He grinned at the two of them. "You two make such a fine couple. How long have you been married?"

"Two years next month," Angela said. Hank nodded, pleased that Angela was obviously a quick study.

"Ah, so you had a summer wedding." Brody smiled. "Barbara and I got married in December in the middle of the worst blizzard in Montana history. I near froze to death getting to the church, but being married to her has kept me warm ever since."

"He's a sentimental old fool," Barbara said as she entered the room carrying a tray of drinks. She smiled fondly at her husband. "Every time it snows he wants to renew our vows...and it snows a lot in Montana."

She handed them each a gla.s.s of lemonade, then sat down in the chair next to where her husband sat. "Do you work, Angela?" she asked.

"It's a full-time job keeping Hank's life running smoothly so he can concentrate his energies on the business." She laid a hand on his arm. "I just don't know what he'd do without me."

"I'm sure he feels the same way," Brody exclaimed.

Hank smiled, although he thought Angela was laying it on a little thick. He sipped his lemonade, watching his "wife" as she and Barbara exchanged small talk.

She was right, he finally admitted to himself. He didn't know what he'd do without her. Although he rarely took notice of her at work, it was because she kept things running so smoothly he didn't have to take notice.

She kept his appointments straight, ordered gifts for friends and relatives. She always seemed to know the names of clients' children and spouses, and the important little things that enhanced whatever business he was conducting.

He'd had half a dozen secretaries before her, attractive women who seemed more content filing their nails than papers. Yes, he didn't know what he would do without Angela, and he hoped he never had to find out. He didn't need a wife, but he definitely needed a good secretary.

"The first five years, those are the hardest in a marriage," Brody said to Hank, pulling Hank from his thoughts. "If you can weather those years, then you'll grow stronger, better together." He smiled at his wife, and in his eyes Hank saw lasting love and enduring commitment. "Barbara and I are getting ready to celebrate our thirtieth wedding anniversary."

"That's quite an accomplishment," Hank said, truly impressed. Thirty years with the same woman. Hank couldn't imagine thirty days.

"We've weathered many a storm together, but each trial and tribulation only made us stronger," Brody exclaimed. He smiled at his wife. "Nothing better for a man than a woman who loves him...and nothing better for a woman than a man who loves her."

"If we don't stop him now, Brody will wax poetic for hours," Barbara said with a laugh. "And I'm sure you two would like to get settled in and freshen up a bit before dinner," Barbara said. "Brody, why don't you take them upstairs, dear, and I'll just take the gla.s.ses back in to the kitchen."

Barbara collected their lemonade gla.s.ses then Angela and Hank followed Brody out of the living room and up the ma.s.sive staircase.

"You have a beautiful home, Mr. Robinson," Angela said.

"Thank you, honey, we've put a lot of work into it since we bought it...and please, make it Brody," the big cowboy said as they reached the top of the stairs. He turned into the first room on the left. "We're putting you two in here."

Angela and Hank followed him into the attractive, airy bedroom. The pale white carpeting was plush, complementing the dark cherry wood furniture. "I'll just leave you two to get unpacked and settled in," Brody said. With a nod to them both he turned and left, his footsteps loud and heavy as he went back down the stairs.

Hank stared at the double bed, covered with an attractive mint green spread. A tiny double bed. Everything Brody did was big...Hank had a.s.sumed the beds would be big as well. He'd expected king-size. He'd expected something different than this.

He and Angela hadn't talked about the sleeping arrangements. It was the one thing that hadn't been discussed about the week they'd be spending together.

He turned and looked at her, and he could tell by the look on her face that like him, she'd a.s.sumed the bed would be a king-size.

The only other piece of furniture in the room was a dainty love seat...far too dainty and small for Hank's tall frame. He'd be crippled for life if he tried to sleep there.

"We are not going to share that bed," she said softly. "n.o.body in this house has to know we aren't sleeping in the same bed."

Hank nodded and once again eyed the love seat He looked back at her. "I'll raise your bonus to seventeen fifty if I get the bed."

She stared at the love seat for a long moment, then directed her gaze back to him. "You've got a deal."

Hank forced a smile to his face, knowing somehow that this week was going to cost him a small fortune.

Chapter Three.

It didn't take long to unpack their bags. Hank took the bottom two drawers of the dresser and the lefthand side of the closet.

Angela took the top two drawers and the righthand side of the closet. It looked odd, and strangely intimate to see their clothes hanging together in the small s.p.a.ce.

"It's a good thing you told me to pack casual things," she said as she placed a pair of jeans in the drawer.

"Why is that?"

"Because if this had been anything more formal, I wouldn't have been able to provide the kinds of clothes Hank Riverton's wife would wear."

He sat on the edge of the bed and grinned at her. "And what do you think my wife would wear?"

She shrugged, wis.h.i.+ng he'd get off the bed, wis.h.i.+ng he didn't look so darned attractive. The whole situation felt obscenely intimate, making her wish she'd never agreed to the whole scheme.

"Silk," she answered his question. "Definitely lots of silk, and chic suits and flowing gowns. I'm sure your wife would be the kind of woman who would know all the latest fas.h.i.+ons and wear them with real panache."

"I'm glad you can imagine my wife so easily. I certainly can't imagine her." He stood and walked over to the window. "I've never had any desire for a wife and I certainly have never met any woman who's made me change my mind."

"What are you so afraid of?" The question left her mouth before she consciously formed the thought.

He turned and gazed at her, amus.e.m.e.nt lighting his eyes. "What a typical female thing to say. Just because I don't want to get married, you a.s.sume it's because I'm secretly afraid of commitment, or fear intimacy or some other such psychobabble junk."

"You're right. I was giving you the benefit of the doubt. The truth is probably that you're too darned selfish and self-centered to want to share yourself with anyone." Angela clapped a hand over her mouth, horrified by her outburst.

Hank stared at her for a long moment. One corner of his mouth lifted into a half smile. "That's probably the most honest a.s.sessment I've ever received of myself."

"I'm sorry...you just made me angry."

He held up a hand. "Please, don't ruin it by apologizing." His grin widened. "And you're a very astute judge of character. I am selfish and self-centered. I'm also driven and difficult, and all those add up to poor husband material."

"If only Brody could hear you now."

"Thank goodness he can't." He gazed at her with speculation. "I suppose you're one of those misguided romantics, who will only feel completely fulfilled by joining your life with a man's."

"On the contrary, I don't need a man to fulfill me." Angela had always believed her happiness was in her own hands. She wasn't waiting for a man to make her whole. "However, eventually I would like to share my life with somebody."

She looked away from him, remembering all the nights she'd imagined lying in somebody's arms, feeling another's body heat against her own. Someday she wanted to share herself, her days and nights, her dreams and disillusionments, with a special man. "I would be okay alone for the rest of my life, but that wouldn't be my first choice."

"Well, that's definitely my first choice," he replied.

Angela laughed. "Oh Hank, you're never alone. You move from one woman to the next with little downtime in between."

He looked at her in surprise, his smile falling away. "But I always feel alone." He frowned and raked a hand through his hair. "Let's go take a tour of this place." His impatient tone let her know she'd touched a nerve. "I'm sure Brody won't mind if we look around until it's time for dinner."

She nodded, eager to leave the small confines of the bedroom, a bedroom where Hank's presence seemed to shrink the s.p.a.ce between the walls.

Besides, the conversation had unsettled her. She talked a good game, but in truth, the idea of giving her heart to another person scared her to death. She'd given it once and it had come back broken and scarred. She wouldn't be so willing to easily give her heart again.

They went down the stairs and outside, onto the large front porch. "What do you say? Left or right?" Hank asked, gesturing first one direction, then the other.

"Doesn't matter to me," Angela replied.

Hank grinned. "On the contrary, I always let my wife make the decisions."

She returned his smile with a shake of her head. "Only if the decisions being made are as innocuous as which direction to take for a walk, right?"

He laughed. "Why is it that you never display such a sharp wit at the office?"

"I guess I don't have time. You keep me pretty busy." She wanted to tell him he kept her busy running his personal life, that she wished he'd get a real wife to take over those duties so she could concentrate more fully on her career in advertising. But she kept her mouth shut on that score, unwilling to start the long week on the wrong foot.

They took off walking toward the large wooden corral just outside the barn, where half a dozen horses danced and pranced, stirring the ground into small puffs of dirt.

"You like horses?" he asked as they both leaned against the wooden enclosure and watched the handsome animals.

"Sure, I guess. I mean, I don't know. I've never really been around them," she replied.

"I imagine Brody will have us riding like cowboys by the end of the week."

"You mentioned Brody bought this place not long ago?" Angela asked, trying not to notice how the sun stroked fiery highlights into Hank's dark hair.

"Yes. He picked up this place about three months ago. Seems there was some sort of scandal and the woman who owned it, Rachel Emery, wanted to get away from Mustang. Brody picked it up for a song and is now living his dream of being a rootin'-tootin' cowboy."

Angela laughed. "He seems very nice," she said as they left the corral and walked toward the barn.

"Brody is the best," Hank agreed. "He really is exactly the man our firm has promoted him as, a little old-fas.h.i.+oned, but a man of honor and morals."

Angela frowned, a rolling sensation in the pit of her stomach. "It doesn't feel right. Our fooling him with this marriage scam."

"I know, but don't go getting all sanctimonious on me," Hank exclaimed. "We aren't hurting anyone and both of us profit from the arrangement. Brody will never know the difference, so no real harm, no foul."

Angela nodded. He was right. She'd agreed to this madness, and now wasn't the time for second thoughts.

"Come on," Hank said, taking her arm lightly. "It will be all right." His touch was warm, and the light in his dark-blue eyes made anything seem possible. He grinned, a devilish handsome smile. "Ever explored a barn?"

Angela sighed, wondering how any woman ever told Hank no. He had the charm of the wicked flowing in his veins and she had a feeling he could convince a woman the sky was green if it was what he wanted her to believe.

The interior of the barn was dimly lit and smelled of sweet hay, old leather and the heavier musk of animal. It wasn't an unpleasant scent, just different than anything Angela had ever experienced.

Hank took her through the huge structure, showing her the stalls for the horses, the bins filled with grain and the cribs for corn. Angela was amazed at his apparent knowledge about all the items and nooks and crannies the barn contained.

After they'd seen everything on the bottom floor, he pulled down a set of stairs and they climbed to the loft, where bales of hay were stacked neatly from floor to ceiling.

"I once got my b.u.t.t beat for sneaking up to a loft to smoke a cigarette," he said as he sat on one of the stray bales of hay. "I was about eight at the time and my dad switched me good as he told me I could have burned down our entire barn."

Angela sank down on a bale nearby. "I didn't know you grew up on a ranch." She found it hard to imagine him anywhere but in the city, the blood in his veins throbbing to the frantic pace and rhythm of metropolitan living. "There's nothing about you growing up on a ranch in your bios, both official and unofficial."

"There are some things that don't belong in a bio," he said evenly. "We lived on a ranch from the time I was born until I was fifteen." He leaned back against a stack of hay, his gaze hazy with memories. "I loved it. There's no better way to spend a childhood than on a ranch with lots of animals, hard work and fresh air."

His features tightened, the pleasant smile fading away beneath the strength of a frown. "Unfortunately, my father wasn't very good at ranching. When I was fifteen the bank repossessed the house and the land."

"Oh, how sad." Angela fought the impulse to lean out and touch him, comfort him in some way for the trauma he must have suffered at such a tender age.

He shrugged, as if the loss hadn't bothered him, although Angela knew differently. "It was probably the best thing that ever happened for my father. We moved in with his brother and he joined my uncle in his dry-cleaning store. They were at the right place at the right time and within a couple of years they had five dry-cleaning shops and more money than they knew what to do with."

Despite his words, Angela sensed a hurt deep inside him, an ache for a home lost, a forced displacement that had been beyond his control. For the first time she had a feeling there was a lot more to her boss than the playboy, driven businessman she'd perceived him as. There was a soft center, a surprising vulnerability that was both evocative and disturbing.

She shoved the disturbing a.s.sessment aside. She didn't want to think of Hank as anything but her boss, a man who was paying her handsomely to pretend to be his wife. A man who would never, ever, in reality give her a second glance.