Wife in Name Only Page 9

  “It’s not the same thing.” If he kept staring at her like that, she’d have to change her underwear. Again.

  “Yeah, it is. It’s sex without an emotional attachment.” He took a step toward her. “That’s us.”

  She mulled that over, her body still flush from the shower. She frowned and opened her mouth for a reply, but her brain couldn’t come up with one. It was exactly what they had. So why didn’t she just use him for the time he was here?

  What was the harm? She wasn’t going to fall for him. Her heart was neatly stitched in her chest, no longer free for the taking.

  “Why not use me for the time we have left?” When he walked toward her, his movement squeezed the air from the room.

  A low throb beat in her belly. “I’ll let you know if the need comes up.”

  A lazy, sexy smile sprawled across his face.

  “Where’d you go anyway?” she asked.

  “The office. I wanted to check to see if an e-mail had come through.” He glanced longingly out the window to the office then back to her. “You should have yelled my name. I would have been here in a heartbeat.”

  She shrugged. “It was just a physical urge. I don’t deny them anymore.”

  “What do you mean you don’t deny them?” He searched her face, but she could only focus on the perfect bow of his lips. Those delicious sensations she got around him swirled.

  “Being alone with happy honeymooners for a year takes its toll. I used to be ashamed of feeling sexy and horny. Even when we were together, I suppressed those feelings. Couldn’t get past all Daddy’s Sunday sermons.” She fidgeted with her hands. “I threw out my inhibitions one day. Life’s too short. The first time I hooked up with Rudy, I thought a lightning bolt was going to kill me dead.” She adjusted her tank top, watching Rory’s smoldering gaze move from her mouth to her shoulder then back to her mouth.

  “So in the shower just now…?” The air heated around them. Like a crazy summer storm.

  “Yeah,” she said, glancing at her feet then back at him. The man looked ready to explode.

  “Stop looking at me like I’m a snack.” She swatted his shoulder, pushing the simmer of want aside. A little bit of embarrassment at her confession curled her toes, and other parts went along for the ride.

  “You’ve just told me you got yourself off with Rudy in the shower. That’s the hottest thing I’ve heard. I’m not looking at you like you’re a snack. More like a Vegas fucking buffet.”

  She laughed and walked to a linen cabinet. She could feel his eyes branding her through the thin layer of cotton she wore, but she ignored it and passed him a fluffy white towel. “Shower is that way.”

  He stood, feet still planted wide, looking frozen. He barely reached out and took the towel. His eyes never left her. Even with her back to him she could feel the scorch of his stare.

  “If you don’t have plans for tonight, I thought we could do a photo shoot of a sunset dinner. There’s a cabana set up. I’ve got some recipes I want to try out and I’d rather poison you than any of the guests.” She paused. “I don’t suppose you packed a tux?”

  “To a deserted Pacific island? Ah, no.”

  “Not a problem, I’ve got a wardrobe full of them.”

  At his cocked eyebrow, she explained. “Some of the guests want to do a glamour picture while they’re here. Walking along the beach sipping champagne, barefoot in beautiful clothes. A formal dinner at sunset is the most popular. I thought we could use that in the brochure and the spread for the magazine.”

  Something she couldn’t fathom rippled across his face. A pulse beat deep in his neck. “When?”

  “In about three hours. That gives me enough time to get everything ready, and we’ll still be able to catch the last rays of the sun.”

  She looked at the carry-all at his feet. Her stomach got the just about to have a root canal nerves. “I really don’t think it’s necessary for you to stay here. I’m not comfortable with it.”

  “What’s the issue? Afraid of me being in your bed?” His dark brows rose into his messy hair.

  “No. It’s not that.” The hell it isn’t. “I think we can pretend to have magic for the camera if we work hard enough.”

  “Well. that’s just it, we don’t have time. I’ll still be working my ass off here. Even though I’m on the other side of the world, that doesn’t mean I can stop running a multi-million dollar company. So no, I don’t have time for all the niceties and getting-to-know-you wooing crap.”

  “Getting-to-know-you crap? Charming. You really need to read some of those romance novels.” She frowned as a thought twisted into her head. “Don’t you have henchmen to carry out your evil plans?”

  “I do.” He grinned.

  She rubbed between her eyebrows. “Don’t you pay the evil henchmen a ton of money to run your business?”

  “A shitload.”

  “Then why don’t you let them do the job you’ve paid them to do?”

  He opened his mouth then closed it.

  This time she raised her eyebrows as she saw his face flame then pale. “Or is it because you can’t stand not being in charge the whole time?” She shook her head. “Control freak, caveman…You’re building quite the list.”

  A thundercloud settled in his eyes, turning them stormy blue. She could almost hear his teeth grinding, he held his jaw so tight. She’d hit a nerve.

  He pinned her with a stare. “Do you have any idea where the phone is? I couldn’t find it in the office.” His cold, indifferent voice cut through her.

  “Not a one,” she replied and walked out of the bungalow toward the kitchen. A pressure point at the back of her head throbbed. She massaged the spot, but the throb stayed. She shrugged. Tonight she had some awesome recipes to try out, a waters-edge dinner to plan, and some amazing pictures to take of her and Rory faking love. She stilled.

  Feeling slightly unsettled, she walked to the kitchen.

  A few hours later, with dinner under control, Zoe wiped a hand against her forehead and made her way along the path to her bungalow.

  “You okay, Cinders?” Her dog had a pained look on her face, then her sides convulsed and she threw up.

  “Honey, what have you eaten?” Her dog was a walking garbage dump. It wouldn’t be the first time Cinderella had swallowed an old and over-ripe fish that she’d unearthed from the garbage pit. Her dog preferred something rotting over the expensive canned and dry food she had shipped from Auckland.

  “Better out than in. That’s a girl.” She waited until Cinders finally stopped and leaned against Zoe’s leg. They made a slow progression back to her bungalow. Zoe filled her bowl with fresh water and gave her a big hug. Cinderella took a few licks of water before heading toward her pillow bed.

  Rory was nowhere to be seen. Probably back in the office, screwing some poor soul to the wall. Something nagged at her. She walked outside and smelled the rotting fish before she got close to her garbage pit. Covering her nose, she grabbed a nearby shovel and dug a hole to bury the fish in. Strange. It hadn’t been there yesterday. The locals didn’t leave rotting fish out in the sun. She looked around when the weird feeling of having eyes on her sent the hairs on the back of her neck standing to attention.

  There wasn’t a single person here except for her. Just birds, insects, and possibly a stray pig.

  “I’m imagining things that aren’t there,” she murmured.

  She dug the shovel into the dirt and headed for the shower. She had just enough time to change and make it back to the kitchen.

  She selected a dark blue sheath dress, sleeveless with a high neck. It dropped to just above her knees. From the front, it looked like she could sing soprano at a church choir, but in the back, it skimmed the edge of her ribcage and fell to the last vertebra on her spine. The fabric brushed against her bare chest—the girls were out on their own tonight. She gave them an encouraging lift-and-stay command. For a reason she wasn’t quite ready to admit, tonight she wanted to be noticed.

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nbsp; She headed toward the kitchen in killer silver wedge shoes, the camera bag over her shoulder.

  An hour later, she adjusted the champagne glasses and rattled the bottle of Krug nestled in a tub of ice. A thick white tablecloth covered the hardwood table. Glossy white plates sat next to shiny cutlery. Dried rose petals were scattered over the table, their scent mixing with the island magnolia that filled the air. The thick white cotton canopy puffed in the slight wind like a parachute. The sky, every color of melon, was the perfect backdrop. She stepped back and took half a dozen photos.

  This is perfect. Bring on fake love.

  She turned away from the scene and took a long sip from a glass of water, forcing the water over the lump in her throat.

  She stilled as Rory walked toward her. She put the glass of water down and grabbed the camera. With her finger on the button, she snapped off a dozen or so pictures of him.

  Her eyes traveled over him hungrily. The tux molded over his long, powerful legs. A white shirt strained to contain his shoulders. His hair was slightly damp and his face clean-shaven; he’d slung the jacket over his shoulder. His loose black bowtie hung around his neck. Her mouth dried. His physical beauty pulled the breath from her. He was every yachting magazine ad exec’s dream.

  Just not the guy for her.

  “You look amazing.” Her heart raced like she was meeting the Queen, and her fingers fumbled with the camera.

  “So do you. I like your hair.”

  She’d kept her hair loosely clipped on top of her head, letting strands fall at will. Make-up was at a minimum: a bit of mascara and a smear of light pink Juicy Tubes on her lips.

  He reached out and ran his fingers through the strands of her hair. His eyes swept over her.

  “Still got that sexy schoolmarm thing going.”

  “Champagne?”

  “Please.”

  She turned and reached for the champagne and secretly smiled at his sharp intake of breath.

  “That’s not very schoolmarm, Zo.”

  She looked over her shoulder. His eyes seared every inch of her back before they skimmed the edge of the dress.

  Despite her earlier desire to be noticed, she didn’t want him looking at her like that, not when it meant so much more than it should.

  She straightened and ignored the tightening of her chest.

  “So, are you hungry?” She passed him a glass of champagne. “I thought we could get some pictures in before the sun sets completely.”

  He didn’t answer, just stared at her.

  Tension, thick and dangerous, filled the space between them.

  She took a long sip of Krug, letting the cool liquid slide down her dry throat.

  Please don’t let him see my fingers tremble.

  “How was your shower?” She tried for a smile, but it hugged her gums. She fidgeted, trying to break the tension that snapped between them. On a physical level, they had everything going on, but on a deeper level, they were just two people biding time. On different roads of life. Kind of friends, but not really. Not anymore.

  “Short and to the point.” He broke the connection, slipping on the mask he wore proudly when he didn’t want the world to see him. In a heartbeat, he’d changed from smoldering and fun to business-focused and disconnected from his surroundings.

  “What are you thinking right now?” she asked, wondering if he’d be honest or would stay concealed behind the veneer he’d worn since before she left.

  He shrugged. “Work.”

  She nodded. Best for both of them to be back in work mode. She positioned the camera on the tripod and adjusted the height.

  “If we could get some pics before dinner that would be great.” She set the timer, stood next to him, and tentatively held out her hand.

  In a second, she was slammed against his side, his arm curled around her shoulder, his barely focused eyes searching her face before settling on her lips.

  “Oh,” she rasped out. His fresh-from-the-shower, clean, all-powerful man scent weakened her muscles. Embarrassingly, she sagged against him. He gripped her tighter, his fingers curling into her skin. Not painful but firm. She eased out of his grasp. Her feminine side loved the feeling, but her stronger don’t mess with me I’m independent side, not quite so much.

  Before she could get away, he spun her around to face him. His hands slid from her shoulders, skimming the edge of her dress. Her skin heated under his touch. “You’re beautiful.” His voice, low and husky, sent a plume of heat from her core fanning outwards.

  “You’ve obviously had one too many, but thanks.” She stared up at him, shifting from one foot to the other, still uncomfortable taking a compliment, dimly aware of the sound of the camera shutter clicking.

  For a second, his mask shifted, and she glimpsed hunger and something that made her gasp: an emotion so deep and powerful it emptied her of breath. He stiffened as if realizing his mistake, and his mask slipped back into place.

  “I’ll get dinner.” She pulled herself away, her muscles loose. Unnerved and with her stomach stuck on a washing machine spin, she walked to the kitchen.

  What the hell was that all about?

  She took the tray of Thai fish cakes from the oven and arranged them on a platter, then added the bowl of red chili, onion, lemongrass, and a sweet and sour brine dipping sauces to the center of the platter.

  Big girl pants, Zo. I need to get the sexy, flirty pictures.

  Sexy and flirty she could handle. Dark and dangerously intense Rory she struggled with.

  After they ate the fish cakes in relative silence, Zoe brought in the entrée of steamed lobster on a bed of cilantro and lime-infused rice with grilled baby beets and a poached tomato and slid the platter before him. Sucking in a breath, she slipped into the chair across from him and then let it out.

  Thank you.

  Fun, flirty Rory sat across from her.

  …

  Zoe rested her chin on her cupped hands and her elbows on the table. She’d taken a touch of sun to her cheeks that made her even lovelier. Candlelight danced a slow waltz in tiny hurricane lanterns. Her eyes sparkled, and a soft glow surrounded her.

  “How are your muscles doing from all the building?” she asked.

  “Burn like a bastard.” He leaned back in the chair, stretching muscles that ached. “I haven’t been outdoors on a worksite for a long time. Felt good.” It felt more than good, it felt fucking awesome. He’d forgotten the feel of wood beneath his hands, the weight of a hammer, the sun pressing down. But more than that, he’d forgotten what it was like to be part of a team, with everybody chipping in and helping. The easy camaraderie of men who needed to get a job done. He twirled the stem of his glass. “I’ve cleared my schedule for the time I’m here to help out every day. That is, if it works in with our schedule.”

  “It can work. I’ll make it.” She cocked her head to one side. “You talk like you used to, when we lived in Greenville. I haven’t heard you say ‘burn like a bastard’ in years.”

  “Really? I thought I said it all the time.”

  “No. Phrases like that are for the construction site, not the boardroom.” He shifted in his chair at the reminder of his professional life. If he could transplant this scene back to L.A., life would be friggin perfect.

  But he’d committed to a night of Zoe, so he pushed aside the need to find the phone and call Joe.

  He cleared his throat and raised his glass. “My compliments to the chef. That was food fit for any five-star restaurant in L.A.”

  “Do you miss L.A.?” She looked thoughtful, spinning the stem of her glass.

  “Yeah, I do. And not just the work aspect, but the whole vibe of the city. I know you don’t get it, but I miss the pounding of running shoes on The Strand. The dog walkers, the roller bladers. I miss the hum and vibe of L.A. There’s always something going on somewhere. Pier Avenue in Hermosa is always rocking, always welcoming. Anyone can be a part of the crowd.”

  “I see.” She took a sip of champagne.
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  “You don’t miss it?”

  “God, no. Not at all.” Her face screwed up then cleared. “Well, there was that bakery in Torrance that made the most amazing cream donuts. I swear my thighs expanded just thinking of all that cream. But apart from that, no. I never fit in. I always felt like I was drowning and couldn’t quite get to the surface for air. My job was never enough for me like it is for you.”

  He stared up at the sky, mulling over her words. The sun formed a backdrop of pink that required him to breathe deeply, filling his lungs with salty air and Zoe’s Kai perfume. It still smelled insanely good on her. Funny, it had always reminded him of the South Pacific. Even then, maybe she’d known where her destiny lay.

  Without him noticing, Zoe had risen from her seat and had started taking photos of him.

  He held up his hand. “Enough with the photos of me.”

  “You look good.”

  He felt her stare through the lens. Watching him. Taking him in.

  Only one thing for it.

  “Dance? Let’s give your magazine and the new brochure photos that will blow their mind. Come fake dance with me. Wrap yourself in me like a taco.”

  She laughed. “I thought it was a burrito?”

  “That’ll do.”

  She put the camera on the nearby tripod and made a few adjustments. “You have such a way with words.” When she walked into his arms, she held herself at a distance. It was as if she had an invisible ruler and had designated the correct distance to be six inches apart.

  A low, seductive blues saxophone oozed across the night from hidden speakers.

  “What, no ABBA?”

  She tilted her head back. “No, that’s just for my personal use. My happy music. I have a huge array of music for the resort. If a guest requests something, I download it.”

  “Thank Christ it isn’t ABBA the whole time. People would be swimming away from here en masse. I remember our DVD player trying to fling itself into the garbage. Seriously, babe, it begged me to put it out of its misery before it played ‘Mamma Mia’ one more time. It was not a Meryl singing fan.”

  He looked at the sparkle in her eyes and in one swift movement anchored her to him. Their chests mashed together. One hand landed on the small of her back and the other where her bra strap should be. He drew tiny circles on her back with each thumb. Her body stiffened.