Wife for a Week Read online

  As the surrounding landscape grew monotonous, Angela leaned her head against the side window and within minutes appeared to be asleep. Hank took the opportunity to study her.

  She’d surprised him. When he’d arrived to pick her up and he’d first spied her in her brother’s grip, her hair wild and curly and flowing around her shoulders, it had been like seeing a stranger for the first time.

  Had her hair always been that long, that thick and shiny? Why had he never noticed it before?

  It wasn’t just the sight of her hair that had shocked him. As they’d talked, she’d surprised him with her dry wit and a touch of spunk, humor and spirit she never exhibited at work.

  He glanced at her, quickly taking in her features. She certainly wasn’t a raving beauty. In fact, she wasn’t even that pretty. Her hair was a nonremarkable brown, pulled back and contained in a barrette as was her usual fashion. Her chin was a little too sharp, her nose a trifle too long. At a time when thick lips were a hot commodity, Angela’s were thin and not particularly welcoming.

  He focused back on the road, pleased that at least he didn’t have to worry about being physically attracted to her. The week would have been pure hell had he been pretending to be married to a knockout.

  He congratulated himself on his inspired choice. Asking his plain-Jane secretary to play the role had been a stoke of genius on his part. There was no chance that either of them would take the game too seriously.

  When they were just a few miles outside of Mustang, Angela stirred and opened her eyes.

  “Hey sleepyhead,” Hank greeted her. “We’ll be in Mustang in about ten minutes.”

  She straightened. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” Her hands shot to her hair in a gesture of self-consciousness. “Riding in a car always does that to me.”

  “Don’t worry about it There’s one more little piece of business we need to take care of before we get there,” he said as he reached into his pocket. He pulled out a jeweler’s box and handed it to her.

  “What’s this?” she asked.

  “Your wedding ring, of course.”

  She snapped open the lid and gasped. “Oh, it’s beautiful.”

  Hank nodded. “It was my mother’s ring. I figured you wearing it would be a nice touch. Put it on.”

  She slid the ring on her finger. “It’s a little big, but it will be fine. I promise I’ll take very good care of it for this week.”

  He smiled at her. “I guess now it’s official. You’re wearing my ring, so that makes you my girl.”

  “You know this is crazy,” she said as she studied the ring with its large center diamond and spray of smaller ones in a flower design.

  “What’s crazy is if I allow Brody Robinson to take his account elsewhere.” He fell silent as they entered the Mustang city limits and he tried to remember the directions Brody had given him.

  “What a charming little town,” Angela exclaimed as they drove down Main Street.

  Hank nodded, following her gaze toward the old, but attractive storefronts, the tree-lined sidewalks and the remains of a different era that endured in the form of hitching posts.

  “Brody’s place is on the other side of town, several miles to the west,” he explained. “Getting nervous?” he asked as she fidgeted in the seat next to him.

  “A little,” she replied, then smiled. “I’ve never been married before.”

  Her smile did something to her face...lit it up, detracted from the irregular features and emphasized the shine of her eyes and her perfect straight white teeth. Her smile almost made her pretty.

  “This is as close as I ever intend to get to the matrimony state,” he said, his voice ringing more forcefully than he intended.

  It took only minutes for them to drive through the small town. When they reached the other side, Hank spied his turnoff, a gravel two-lane road that would take them to Brody’s place.

  Even without the large sign that read Robinson’s Ranch, Hank would have known the place belonged to his client by the huge wrought iron biscuit that set atop the gate.

  “There’s nothing subtle about Brody,” he murmured as the ranch house came into view.

  “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 massive 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 reassuring 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 damn town in the whole United States,” Brody exclaimed. “Best damn 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 glass 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 wha
t 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 glasses back in to the kitchen.”

  Barbara collected their lemonade glasses then Angela and Hank followed Brody out of the living room and up the massive 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 assumed 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 assumed 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. “Nobody 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 space.

  “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, wishing he’d get off the bed, wishing 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 fashions 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, amusement lighting his eyes. “What a typical female thing to say. Just because I don’t want to get married, you assume 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 assessment 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 space 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-fashioned, but a man of honor and morals.”