Wife in Name Only Page 8

  After five minutes, the satellite phone pinged into life.

  She answered, letting out a whoop of delight when she heard Hillary, Rory’s personal assistant who’d become a good friend. She’d ended up speaking more to Hillary than Rory in the year before she’d left. They still kept in touch, and it was a delight to hear her voice now.

  “Hey, honey, how are you?” Hillary’s voice murmured down the line. “How’s it going with you and Rory?”

  She sucked in a breath and gripped the phone tighter. “All good, Hills. You know how it rolls. Rory’s married to his career. Nothing’s changed. We’re all good.”

  “Honey, you know he’s married to success. That’s his bent, but since you left, he’s more driven.”

  “I figured that. He seems more closed off than I remember.”

  Her gaze drifted to look out the window at the sun’s rays turning the ocean to a shimmer of liquid silver. “Zo. He’s more than driven. Works up to twenty hours a day. Nothing can stop him. It’s like his compass is wackadoodle. I think he thinks that the more successful he becomes, the better chance he’s got of winning you back.”

  Tears pinched the back of her throat. “No, Hills. I’m not what drives Rory. I left because his need to succeed meant more to him than our marriage did.”

  Hillary let out a long breath. “Don’t you see, Zo?”

  “No, Hills, I don’t.”

  “The Rory you fell in love with is buried under the need to succeed for you. He’s been trying to bury your pasts and become a man you’d be proud of.”

  She staggered back under the weight of Hillary’s words.

  “No, no, no, no. We came to L.A. to ditch our crap pasts and start new. I always thought we’d have a life where we’d still be as in love as we were when we said ‘I do’ at our fifty dollar wedding. I never wanted the house, the cars, or tickets to the ballet.” She couldn’t stop the quiver in her voice. “I just wanted us.”

  “But he wanted you to have all the things you’d never had.”

  “I didn’t want them, Hills. You know that,” she said softly. She thought he had, too.

  “I do, honey. I just don’t know that Rory ever got that. You know him. He’s not exactly demonstrative. He still shakes my hand at Christmas and stiffens when I pull him into a hug. I remember the look on his face when he’d unwrap the banana cakes you used to make him. He’d leave gaps in his schedule to get home for your meals. Then business encroached, and the gaps got smaller and smaller.”

  “Yeah, they did.” Two tears squeezed out of the corners of her eyes.

  “He equates success with money. He wanted to give you the world.”

  “I just wanted him.”

  “He doesn’t know another way to show his love. The man you fell in love with is still there. I’ve worked with him for years, and I’ve known him for years. I’ve got his M.O. He’s just buried trying to be the man he wants to be for you. Underneath he’s still there. He buried himself so deep he got lost.”

  She couldn’t help the hiccup that burned the back of her throat. Tears dripped off her chin. “I didn’t know how to help him, Hills. I tried. He just drifted away no matter what I did. I didn’t know how to find him. The man I fell in love with, the man I adored, left our marriage, too.”

  “Dig deep, honey. He’s still there.”

  The line went dead, and she didn’t know if that was the line dropping or Hillary making her point.

  Crap. She needed this like she needed a loaded shotgun to the head. But it didn’t stop the emotion she’d buried deep when she’d escaped a marriage threatening to choke her.

  She looked down at the note she’d been absently doodling while talking to Hillary. X’s and O’s underscored hers and Rory’s name. Cursive scrawls looped through their initials. R and Z stared back at her.

  She snatched up the paper and went to throw it in the trash, but she paused. It was a message Rory needed for work. It wouldn’t be right if she failed to deliver it, and it could end up coming back on Hillary. She wouldn’t do that to her friend. She’d just have to copy the note onto another piece of paper so he didn’t see her thoughtless, romantic scribbles and assume they meant anything.

  But when she finished transcribing the note, she paused as an idea took hold.

  Hillary’s words burned into the back of her skull. Rory needed to get back to the basics. Away from work. Could she do it?

  She stared at the phone and blinked.

  Why not?

  She absconded with the phone, walked with determination to her cabin, and plugged it in to the spare docking station. Then she hid the whole contraption behind a large chest of drawers.

  Maybe she could help him find himself. Maybe this was the last thing she could do for him. She wasn’t going to analyze the whole scenario. Baby steps, she told herself. Baby steps, Zo.

  She started toward the village with her camera.

  Halfway between the village and the resort, above the sound of the waves punishing the atoll that protected the island, she could hear the thumps of a hammer hitting nails and the low murmur of voices. Cinderella galloped ahead of her on the path, her tail whipping the salty breeze.

  The cool canopy of the trees filled her nostrils with the dark scent of sweet earth. It affected her physically, pulling a deep stirring in her belly, a need as primitive as the scent on the air. Always had. The daydream she treasured morphed in her mind, and she bit her lip. The image of Rory in backless chaps, wearing a do-me-babe smile, unbuckling his belt, sent a pulse deep into her belly.

  “Zo.”

  She startled to find Rory standing in front of her. Heat burned her cheeks. Without a shirt, barefoot, and wearing loose shorts, he looked hotter than a calendar of near-naked firemen. Her eyes were drawn to the cut and thrust of his chiseled abs, then they drifted to the line of thin dark hair trailing from his navel to under the waistband of his shorts that sat way too low on slim hips.

  “Hey.” She pressed her hair behind her ears, avoiding his eyes, afraid he’d see the naked want in hers.

  Too late. He stepped toward her and cupped her chin in his hand. His eyes darkened, and he sucked in a breath.

  She stepped backward, her fingers wrapped around a lipgloss she pretended to be searching for in her bag.

  “What were you thinking just now?” His dark voice grazed her. Her chest pushed against her bikini top.

  Damn it.

  “Nothing. Just daydreaming.” By some miracle, her voice didn’t shake.

  “Anything I can help you with?” A smirk crept across his face.

  “Nope.”

  She went to walk around him but he blocked her path. She blinked in the bright light and flicked sunglasses from the top of her head.

  “I’m off to shoot scenery I can stick you in later.”

  A string of expletives smacked her ears.

  “Shit, Zo. I’m sorry. I got carried away. I finished my evil plan to take over the world and started thinking.”

  She smiled despite herself and shrugged. “No biggie. I photoshopped you in once, I can do it again.” She hitched the bag on her shoulder higher and gripped the strap tighter. The conversation with Hillary and the emotions it dredged up had left her raw and vulnerable. The sound of children’s laughter carried on the island breeze. “You know when I got to the office and you weren’t there, I wasn’t mad. I’m okay doing this on my own. Truly.”

  She could read nothing on his face. He slipped on his mask and effectively shut the world out.

  She kept walking.

  His long legs ate up the ground, and in a few steps he was beside her. “Give me ten minutes to change clothes.”

  She stood her ground. “You’re here for a few days. This is my livelihood, Rory. My everything. I have to get these shots for the brochure and the spread. There’s too much at stake for me.” Glad for her sunglasses and the protection they offered, she looked up at him. “I do believe this negates our deal about you having to stay in my bungalow,
though.”

  He fell in step beside her. Hot, sweaty, and all man. “I don’t need ten minutes. I’ll come with you now. I’m not reneging on the bet.” Not when the payout is in the sack, his expression said.

  Typical guy. Thinking only about the sleeping arrangements, not the emotional toll of having her wake up beside him, his arm curled around her waist. First Hillary, now this. She mentally shrugged off the emotions of the day and got a handle on the task ahead.

  They walked along, Cinderella trotting at her side, like some happy couple advertising insurance. She’d have laughed if not for how sad it was on a grand scale. They really should be advertising how to stay happily separated for the last year without letting the world know what was really going on.

  She stopped when she heard Simi calling Rory’s name. She waited for the old man to catch up.

  When Simi reached them, he grasped Rory’s forearm. “Thank you.”

  “We got some good work done today. I’ll get up early tomorrow and come down. I think we can get the beams finished tomorrow. Get the tar paper up, patch the roof,” Rory said.

  The grins that lit Rory’s and Simi’s faces stilled Zoe’s heart with a heavy thump.

  Simi slapped Rory on the back, gave her a beaming smile, and walked towards a group of partially finished houses.

  Oh.

  “That’s where you were? Helping with the houses?”

  He rubbed his hand across his jaw. “Yeah. Couldn’t get them out of my head. I’ve been thinking there were some easy fixes I could do to make the structures stronger. Get the walls fortified, the roofs sealed.”

  Her heart dipped, and breathing became a little bit harder.

  Here was the man she’d shared hot dogs with at Santa Monica Pier. Here was the man who’d hand-welded a Monopoly bracelet for her. Here was the man who had held her hand when she cried watching Antiques Roadshow. It wasn’t the hard, calculating stare he wore when he was busy concocting new ways to undercut the competition or screw over his friend or neighbor. His expression now was focused but warm, the look of a man intent on the needs of others rather than the needs of the stock holders. Here, for the first time in a long time, was the man she’d married.

  “My shoulders burn like a bastard. I haven’t swung a hammer in years. Better than any gym workout.” He took the bag from her shoulder.

  Zoe turned to hide eyes that were glassy and emotional. “It was good of you to help them.”

  “These are good people. They have to fish and earn a living. They don’t have a lot of time or money to spend.” He shrugged Atlas-like shoulders. “I’ve got the time. I took some planks of wood I found behind your storage facility, back near the garbage pit. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “No, I don’t mind. Use anything.” The tremble in her voice surprised her. She cleared her throat.

  They arrived at a path that meandered up a very long, steep hill.

  “You up for it?” She swatted a mosquito that feasted on her arm.

  “After you.” His eyes raked her down and back in a heated sweep.

  Forty minutes later, they arrived in a sweaty heap at the top of the hill.

  “Wow,” Rory said as he turned full circle. “This view is awesome.”

  “Isn’t it?” She pulled two bottles of water from her bag and handed him one. The cold water slid down her dry throat. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

  On the highest point of the island, they had an uninterrupted view. Turquoise water circled the island. Navy waves of the Pacific pounded the atoll that looked like a ballerina’s tutu. Each wave sent a wall of spray towards the sky. The primitive browns and greens of the jungle circled emerald fields. Houses dotted the island. Paths crisscrossed over the flat terrain as if they were the veins of the island. To her left sat her resort. At the far edge, mowed into the lush grass. was the airstrip. A tin barn hunched at the end of the strip like a red exclamation point.

  She turned to see Rory’s response to the view, but she gasped when she saw him. “Rory, your shoulders are scarlet. You forget how strong the sun is here.” She dug into her bag and pulled out a tube of Coppertone. “Turn around.”

  “Its fine. I don’t need—”

  “Even cavemen get sunburned.” She pulled him into the shade of a clump of palm trees, avoiding the coconuts scattered underneath like fallen missiles. Her hands dug into his muscled waist, and she spun him.

  She positioned the bottle at his shoulder and oozed a Z down his back in thick, white cream.

  He stilled as she gently rubbed the cream into his shoulders and back. Not a freckle marred his flawless skin.

  Her breath hitched as her fingers moved over familiar grooves and glided over taut muscles that rippled under her touch. Her finger grazed the edge of his shorts.

  She could barely swallow. Her body clenched as she breathed in coconut, papaya, sweat, and him: a powerful cocktail.

  Fire ripped through her veins, and that familiar feeling in her groin had her squirming.

  Shit.

  God help her, she was panting. Her breath puffed against his skin.

  If she didn’t stop now, she’d explode.

  “All done,” she said in a heated whisper, dragging herself away, a delicious warmth coursing through her body. She grabbed the camera. “Should we start?”

  “Give me a minute.” He stood unmoving.

  She ignored the rasp in his voice, wiped away the tingle in her fingertips, and set up the tripod, adjusting the height to use the backdrop of the Pacific Ocean. She positioned the camera, very conscious of the simmering awareness between them.

  Caught up with adjusting the height of the camera, she jumped at Rory’s voice.

  “What’s this for?” He held up a machete that dangled from a hook on a palm tree.

  “Coconuts. It’s a community thing. We use it to split them in half and drink the milk. The honeymooning guests love it. There’s a group of men I hire from the village to bring guests up here. They’re all built young men and they shimmy up the tree and drop coconuts down. For the more adventurous guests, the guides teach them to climb the trees.”

  “Good marketing.”

  A snort of laughter escaped her. “Even standing here in the middle of paradise, your head is still in the business world.”

  A dark look marred his handsome face. He frowned and turned away.

  He picked up a coconut. Using the knife, he sliced off the hard outer covering, revealing the dark brown ball. He used the handle of the machete as he hammered a circle. Flipping the knife over, he sliced open the top and handed it to her.

  “Impressive.” She couldn’t help but grin at the cool that I can do this look on his face.

  She waited until he’d cut the top of another coconut.

  “Oh, good photo op,” she said, walking to the edge of the summit.

  “Careful.” Rory growled next to her. He reached out and grabbed her hand.

  She laughed. “I know my way around the island, Rory. I’ve got it.”

  A tiny bit of her heart did a weird softening that he’d still catch her if she fell.

  “Just making sure you’re okay. Wouldn’t want to have to explain to Cinderella that I lost you.”

  She hip bumped him. “Oh, please. That dog adores you, deluded soul that she is.”

  A sharp bark of laughter filled the gap between them.

  They stared at each other before she broke away, uneasy. This is what she’d missed. The easy talking. The ribbing, The laughter. The connection. The plain and simple connection they’d had in spades before they lost it. It felt good, really good. But it was too late.

  She wiped away the tremble in her fingers. “Come on, the timer is set. It’s going to take photos of us every fifteen seconds.” She raised her coconut. “Say cheese.”

  “When we’re ten feet apart? That’s really going to sell fake rapt in each other.”

  She swallowed.

  “I can fake anything, big boy.”

 
; In an instant she was hauled against him.

  Oh.

  She tingled where their bodies touched. His fingers gripped hers.

  “You didn’t fake anything with me,” he whispered into her ear.

  “You’ll never know,” she replied in a low voice.

  His breath hissed.

  She raised her coconut and chinked it against his just before the camera whirred.

  Ten minutes later they had sweat pouring off them, but they’d taken a multitude of photos: under palm trees, their arms around each other, her in a bikini standing in front of Rory, his arms around her waist.

  Her jaw ached from all the pretend smiles she’d been shooting into the camera.

  They stood side by side with his arm on her hip. “It’s hot.” He brushed sweat from his forehead.

  “Yeah, it is.”

  Can’t blame all of this on the weather.

  Her blood sizzled. If his hand lingered any longer on her waist before slowly slipping to her hip, she was going to walk down this path, head straight for her cabin, and change Rudy’s batteries. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

  “I hope so, babe.” His dark eyes drilled through her, sending that familiar pounding to her pelvis.

  “Zo, you’re breathing all heavy. What’s up? You thinking of me in backless chaps?”

  “Nope, I’m thinking of Rudy.” She turned and walked down the track and grinned at his sharp intake of breath.

  Chapter Seven

  Zoe turned, pulling her damp hair from her shoulder and clipping it to the top of her head. Rory stood framed in her doorway, his carry-all at his feet.

  She’d skipped ahead on the path after they were panting at each other on the summit and, before he’d seen the do-me look on her face, had headed straight to the bungalow. She’d waited and watched as Rory came to a fork in the path. One led to her bungalow. One led to the office.

  He chose the office path.

  She’d headed to the shower.

  “Rudy said hi.”

  His eyes dilated, and a flush stained his cheeks.

  “You don’t need a Rudy.” He walked toward her, his shorts not doing much in the way of hiding his desire. “I’m available anytime, any day.”