Weekend Wife (5 page)

Exhausted, he sank down on the bed next to her, his hand still firmly pressed against her soft lips. Oh, man, he groaned inwardly. She smelled good. She felt good. She looked good. He drew his eyes away from his dancing-pickle boxers and over his misbuttoned dress shirt to her eyes.

Even though Ty wished he could lie here with his nose buried in her soft, sweet-smelling hair all night, he knew he had some explaining to do. Propping himself up on one elbow beside her, he asked, “Will you be quiet now?”

He felt her quick and silent nod beneath his hand, and slowly pulled his fingers from their firm grip over her mouth.

“That’s better.” He sighed, collapsing on his back next to her. “Now then. If you’ll promise to shut up and hear my side of the story, I’ll let you up,” he said.

As she nodded again, he lifted his leg from across her body and sat up, pulling her with him. She was frantically tugging at the shirt she wore, trying to cover the delicious dips and curves that still had his blood pounding in his ears.

“Here,” he said, pushing off the bed and striding to his dresser. Pulling out a pair of running shorts with a drawstring and some white sport socks, he tossed them over at her and ordered gruffly, “Put these on and meet me downstairs in the living room. I promise I’ll explain everything. If you don’t like what I have to offer you, you’re free to go whenever you like. And,” he added, stepping gingerly over the broken champagne bottle on his way out the door, “watch out for broken glass.”

* * *

Ty ran down to the kitchen and pulled a bottle of brandy out of a cabinet. He needed a drink. Totally thunderstruck by the difference in her appearance, he pondered how amazing it was that a simple shower could transform someone so completely. He was still reeling from the impact of their wrestling match on his bed.

She was incredible. Fiery, passionate, beautiful. And those legs. Slender, shapely legs that seemed to go on forever. He just
had
to convince her to stay. With that sweet, innocent face and those huge, sparkly brown eyes, his heart leapt with excitement. All she needed was the right clothes and hair, and this woman could give Roxanne a run for her money anyday. If he could only get her to cooperate.

For some reason, he had the feeling that under her false wall of bravado, she was a lady. Somewhere along the way—before something had gone terribly wrong—Ty was sure that she’d lived a much better life.

* * *

Sensing that Ty was watching her from the doorway, Emily ran an anxious hand over the outfit she’d borrowed from him. She was probably a first-class fool for sitting here, waiting for him to fill her head with lies, but she couldn’t help herself. There had been something sincere about his promise to explain. And, for the life of her, she just couldn’t make herself leave. Yet.

Plus, she guessed she owed it to Helga and Carmen to hear him out. What if he was a nice person? She pulled her lower lip into her mouth. He wasn’t that nice. And what about that kinky pile of stuff she’d found in his drawer?

No, she would definitely be on her guard with this guy.

“Can I get you something to drink?” he asked, carrying a bottle into the room with him.

“No, thank you,” she said primly, she’d keep her wits about her, thank you very much. She was surprised and embarrassed to note that he had the beginnings of a first-class shiner.

Ty set the bottle on the wet bar. “Now then...” He cleared his throat. “Where were we?” Crossing the room, he sank down onto the couch opposite hers.

Fighting like a pair of mad dogs?
“Till death do us part.” She hoped her accusing glare made him nervous.

“Oh, yes.” He smiled tiredly at her sardonic expression. “I should probably start at the beginning. And if you’ll just bear with me, I’ll explain everything. Even the handcuffs.”

At her slight nod, he continued.

“As I told you earlier, I just moved to L.A. from Boston. I was transferred and promoted to the position of director of national accounts at Connstarr. Connstarr is one of the nation’s leading software companies. Computers,” he explained, as though she wouldn’t know what software was.

Bristling, she rolled her eyes and nodded. She may be homeless, but she wasn’t stupid.

Leaning forward in his seat, his expression hardened. “I worked my way through college, then started at the bottom at Connstarr. It has taken me over ten long years to get where I am today. I fought to get there. I’ll fight to stay there. That’s where you come in.” His eyes glittered dangerously.

“Me?” Suddenly curious to find out how she fit into the scheme of things, Emily forgot her animosity for a moment.

“Yes. You.”

“How?”

“Ever since I started my new job in the L.A. office, I have been...er, u-uh...” he stammered, wondering how to put it. “Harassed.”

“Harassed?” She lifted a skeptical brow.

“Sexually.”

“Sexually?”
Her lip curled in disbelief. A big, strong guy like him? Who was he trying to kid?

Flames of embarrassment licked at his cheeks.

“I know. It’s hard to swallow. I don’t quite believe it myself. But it’s true.” Standing, he strode to the wet bar in the corner, poured himself a brandy, and held the cool glass against his darkening eye. “Are you sure you don’t want anything?”

“I’m sure.”

“Anyway...” He took a slug of his drink and leaned against the bar. “Roxanne Delmonico—that’s my new boss,” he said derisively, “has it in her head that she... Aw, jeez...” He took a deep breath. “Wants me.” He dragged his hand over his face and glanced over at her as if he was worried about her reaction.

“So, Roxanne isn’t your wife,” she murmured.

“No,” he answered, surprised. “Whatever gave you that idea?”

“I thought you said something about her wanting a daughter that didn’t speak Spanish.”

“Oh, that. I’ll get to that.” He shook his head. “Normally, I wouldn’t have any problem dealing with a situation like this, but unfortunately for me, she’s the owner’s niece.”

Emily snorted. “That figures,” she muttered to herself.

Ty shot her a curious look. “Uncle Denny Delmonico.” His words held a certain fondness. “Nicest guy you’d ever want to meet. Too nice. He’s totally blind when it comes to his spoiled, man-eating niece. He gave her the vice presidency of the West Coast division of Connstarr last year. And she’s been terrorizing the troops ever since.”

Pushing off the bar, Ty ambled over and sat down across from Emily. “She is the one who sent the handcuffs and other stuff you found. It was my Welcome to L.A. gift from the boss. Classy, huh?”

Emily’s mouth hung open in amazement. She’d had a professor who’d pulled the same kind of chicanery with her last year. If Ty was telling the truth, she knew how infuriating it could be. Especially when the harasser in question held your future in their hands.

“I thought I might keep the stuff you found as evidence, if I ever need to build a case against her.”

Emily looked contritely at her hands.

Tossing back the rest of his drink, he sighed and set his tumbler down on the coffee table. “This morning,” he began tiredly, “Roxanne came into my office and asked me if I’d received her gift. Then she suggested that we try it out this weekend.”

Emily leaned forward as curiosity got the better of her. “What does she look like?”

Ty squeezed his eyes tightly shut and rubbed his forehead. “Blond, bold, buxom, brassy, and a few other
B
words I’m too polite to mention in front of a lady.” Opening his eyes, he looked seriously at her. “She’s blackmailing me with my future. If I don’t come across, or find a damn good reason not to, she’ll fire me. She’s done it before.”

Emily drew in a quick breath.

Suddenly Ty stood. “Do you want some ice cream? I’m still feeling a little peckish.” He grinned boyishly.

“No wonder. We didn’t leave you much pizza.” Before she could stop herself, she returned his grin. “Sure. Ice cream sounds fine.”

“Hang on a sec. I’ll be right back.”

Watching him bound out of the room, Emily closed her eyes and sighed. Maybe it was crazy, but she was beginning to believe him. Something about Tyler Newroth appealed to her, and for some reason, against her better judgment, she trusted him. He was certainly handsome enough for it to be plausible. Roxanne’s admiration was not groundless. Just unprofessional. And illegal.

“Hope you like rum raisin,” he said, jogging back into the room and handing her a small carton with a spoon sticking out.

“My favorite.”

“Really?” His eyes darted curiously to hers. “Mine, too.”

Why that should please her, she’d never know. There was something interesting about him that she had never reacted to with any other man before. Yes, she thought uncomfortably, there was definitely a certain chemistry of sorts going on here, whether she wanted to admit it or not.

“So, what did you say when she asked you to try out her little gift?” she asked over a mouthful of ice cream.

“I tried to stall her the best I could. But if you knew Roxanne, you’d know that she doesn’t take no for an answer. She actually crawled up onto my desk—lay on a project I was working on—and told me I needed to loosen up.” His laugh was incredulous. “She said she wanted to get to know me
much
better.” He wiggled his eyebrows up and down suggestively.

“Hmm...I wonder what she meant by that?” Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

“I wonder.” Ty shook his spoon at her.

“So, how’d you get her off your desk?”

“I told her I was married.”

“Are you?”

“No.”

“Did she believe you?”

“I don’t think so.” His face was crestfallen as he scooped another bite of ice cream into his mouth.

Even though Tyler Newroth was not a man to be pitied, and he was far from the underdog, Emily’s heart began to melt at his plight. Women all over this country were being sexually harassed every single day. It was unconscionable. So why should the standard be any different for a man?

Her desire, however, to help this man was not her usual bleeding-heart project. No. This was different. She didn’t know why exactly. Maybe it was the fact that Helga and Carmen’s futures, as well as his, rested on her willingness to help.

“In fact,” he said, swallowing a big spoonful of ice cream, “she pretty much laughed at me. Then, before she left the office, she reminded me about the company cruise.”

“Cruise?”

“Connstarr is treating its entire management staff and their families to a week-long Mexican cruise, a week from Monday.”

“Uh-oh.” Emily could see where this was going and swallowed nervously. She sincerely hoped he didn’t expect her to get on a boat. In the water. Out in the middle of the ocean. The very thought made her stomach churn.

“Uh-oh is right. On her way out the door she said, all phony and gushylike, ‘Looking forward to meeting your wife.’” Ty smirked. “Then she has the nerve to insinuate that we’ll find some time alone together on the ship, behind the little woman’s back.”

“She sounds like a real pistol.”

Ty laughed ruefully. “Bingo. On the way home from work, she calls me on my car phone and invites me to this big-deal client meeting with Uncle Denny and herself. I tell her, sure, I’ll be there. Then she tells me that the client is a real family guy and wants to meet my wife. This coming Monday!” He snorted. “Well, she correctly suspects I don’t have a wife. And since I just moved here last week, I don’t even have a girlfriend yet. And I may have a way with Roxanne, but I doubt that I’m charming enough to con some stranger into pretending to be my wife by Monday evening.”

Perhaps he underestimated himself, Emily mused, amazed at how “at home” she felt now, sitting here in his clothes and eating ice cream. Too “at home,” she thought uneasily. She couldn’t let herself start to feel sorry for this guy.

“So I thought I’d try hiring someone.” Ty scraped the bottom of his carton and, after getting the last bit of ice cream, dropped the empty container on the coffee table. Leaning back on the couch, he propped his feet up next to the carton and smiled at her. “That’s when I spotted you. Your sign said Will Work For Food. So...how was the ice cream?” he asked, the brandy and his unexpected workout with her causing his eyelids to droop appealingly.

“Delicious, so I guess I owe you.” Finishing off her ice cream, she dropped her container into his and tossed her spoon down on the coffee table.

She sighed heavily and realized that she truly believed his story. And, unfortunately, Emily could never resist a challenge. Besides, it would be a pretty cushy way to get help for Carmen and Helga—except for the part about the ocean. But is that what she wanted? An easy way out? What would this experience do to her findings? Then again, what difference did her findings make if Helga and Carmen were out suffering on the street?

Eyeing him skeptically, she asked, “You really think we could pull it off?”

“I’m not sure.” He shook his head. “I’ve done everything else I can think of, short of telling her to take her job and shove it.”

“What about Helga and Carmen?”

“What about them?”

“They’re part of the deal. Where I go, they go.” Carmen had been through far too much upheaval in her short life to be abandoned again. And Helga wasn’t as strong as she let on.

Ty shrugged. “Well, if that’s the only way I can have you, then I’ll take them.”

“On the cruise?”

“Sure. Whatever.” His lip curled in wry amusement. “Helga can be the mother-in-law, and Carmen can be the daughter.”

“What about Carmen’s language problem?”

“We’ll say we decided to adopt.”

He had an answer for just about everything. She had to admire that. It was then that she realized she had just agreed to pose as this man’s wife on a cruise ship in front of the entire Connstarr management team. Obviously a man and his wife would share a cabin. And after what had happened earlier on his bed...

She had a feeling she’d be fighting him again. Fighting an attraction to him that she’d felt from the moment he’d saved her neck at the side of the road.

She nibbled nervously on her lower lip. “What about the sleeping arrangements?”