Husband by the Hour (21 page)

"Never," he said, then realized that was the biggest lie of all. "I didn't lie about my family," he amended. "The computer files have been changed. I paid someone to do it."

"To hide a criminal record? Travis said you were clean."

"It was easier to start over," he said and hoped she wouldn't notice he hadn't answered the question.

She glanced at him over her shoulder. Dark, troubled eyes studied his face. "You told me the truth about your dad, what he did and all, and about your mom dying?"

"Yes. I swear, Hannah. That's all true."

"I suppose it's something."

He ached for her pain. If only he could tell her the truth. That was always the temptation on an undercover assignment. To tell one person. Then another, then another. He knew how it worked. His cover had to be absolute. Hannah would treat him differently if she knew. She might feel compelled to tell her brother. Nick couldn't risk it.

But he wanted to. If she knew who and what he really was, she would respect him, even let herself care about him. Perhaps it was just as well. He might have learned the wrong lessons from his childhood, but those lessons were firmly ingrained.

Hannah walked to the small fireplace and leaned against the mantel. "I told him the reason the computer records were so strange, not showing our marriage and listing an address different than mine, was that you were a civilian working with the Southport Beach Police Department on a sting operation. Something to do with beachfront property."

She got it all out in one breath. He stared at her, barely able to comprehend what she'd said. "You told him that?"

She nodded.

Her lies were so close to the truth, he started to laugh. One glance from her told him he'd made a mistake, but he couldn't stop. Except for the fact that he was a cop and not a civilian, she'd been one hundred percent accurate about him.

She glared. "It's not funny."

His laughter faded into slight chuckles. "I know. I'm sorry. It's just—"

She spun toward him. "It's just what? How dare you laugh at me? I lied for you, Nick Archer. I stood in front of my brother and deliberately withheld the truth. As a common criminal, I'm sure that's pretty meaningless to you. However, I don't share your loose moral code. I value my word and I always try to tell the truth."

She was close to tears. He could tell by the tremor in her voice and the stiff set of her body.

"I know," he said quietly and moved toward her.

She took a step back. "Don't touch me."

He glanced around the room. "There's no one else, Hannah. It's me or be alone."

"I'd rather be alone."

"I thought you said you didn't lie."

She covered her mouth with her hand as if holding in a sob. He crossed to her and gathered her against him. She continued to hold herself stiffly as he put his arms around her and stroked her back.

"I can't believe you made me do this," she muttered.

He thought about pointing out that he hadn't made her do anything. She could have turned him in to Travis, but she hadn't. He wondered why. He would like to think it was because she was starting to feel something for him. He suspected it had something to do with the fact that he was her anchor in this strange situation. With him gone, she would have to face her family alone and that thought terrified her.

In time, she would adjust to them and not need him anymore, but he didn't want to think about that.

He also knew that part of the reason she'd withheld the truth was to protect him. She would think he didn't want her family knowing the truth, and in a way, she was right. He enjoyed his relationship with her brothers. If they thought he was a lowlife, everything would change.

Maybe it already had.

He continued to stroke her back and gradually she relaxed. Her hands rested on his waist. He took her wrists and drew them up over his shoulders. She buried her face in his neck.

"Damn you," she whispered. "I'll never forgive you for this."

Did she damn him for the lie, or for making her care?

"Sweet Hannah." He almost wished she had turned him in. Then he could get out of here. Before someone got hurt. "I don't deserve this."

She raised her head and looked at him. Tears swam in her eyes, but she blinked them back. "At least we agree on something."

He smiled faintly. "Not just because of who I am, but because…" He wasn't sure how to say it. "I want the best for you."

She frowned, not understanding his words. Then comprehension dawned. "And that's not you."

"Exactly."

"I know. Don't worry. My heart is quite safe." She took a step back. "Although I find the warning interesting. If you're trying to convince me you're one of the bad guys, you should have just used me and tossed me aside. Warning me off in advance doesn't exactly get you nominated as villain of the week."

His chest tightened and a peculiar aching began around his heart. "You're a hell of a woman."

"I know. Everyone says that. It's a real burden."

Her smile was a little shaky around the edges, but he wasn't going to comment on the fact. She would survive this because she was strong. He admired that.

She walked to the sofa and took a seat. "My head is spinning. I can't believe everything that's happened to me. I have a family, although God knows what Travis is thinking right now."

He settled next to her. "I'm sorry, Hannah."

"I believe you. You've been—" she glanced down at her hands "—you've been nice to me, Nick, and I appreciate that. For what it's worth, this past week with our pretending to be married has been a lot better than my real marriage."

"How long were you married?"

She sighed and mumbled something under her breath.

"What?" he asked.

She glared at him. "Five days, okay? Five days. Go ahead and laugh."

He didn't, although it was hard not to. "Five days. But you said you only got divorced a couple of months ago. What happened in between?"

She leaned back against the sofa. "I was pretending. I somehow thought if I wasn't divorced, then I wasn't really alone."

He reached for her hand and stilled her twisting fingers. "I understand that."

"I'm glad someone does. It never made sense to me. It's not as if Shawn was a part of my life anymore."

"Where did you meet?"

"At the beach. I went with some friends to a little café and he was there." She smiled at the memory. "He was completely gorgeous. I don't know what he saw in me, but I wasn't going to ask any questions."

The hot, burning jab in his gut went unidentified until Nick caught his breath and realized he was suffering from acute jealousy. He released her fingers, but she didn't seem to notice.

"I had a huge crush on him," she continued. "When he asked me out, I wanted to die."

"Great." She hadn't wanted to die all the times
he'd
asked her out. She'd wanted to run far and fast in the opposite direction. Apparently, he'd gone about it all wrong.

"I was so excited to be part of a couple, I didn't notice we had nothing in common. After a few weeks, we decided to get married. Five days later, I realized I'd made a horrible mistake."

Nick didn't want to hear any more, but he couldn't keep from asking questions. "Why did Shawn agree to hold off getting a divorce?"

"He traveled a lot. Actually, for a couple of years, he wasn't in the country." She cleared her throat. "Shawn wasn't the kind of man who really worried about details like getting a divorce. If I hadn't gotten in touch with him, we would still be married."

Nick frowned. "Maybe he's secretly still in love with you and that's why he didn't want a divorce."

She laughed. "No, I don't think that's Shawn's style. He's much more into the flavor of the month. He's not marriage material."

"Hmm." So far he wasn't appeased. "So what does this Shawn do for a living?"

She didn't answer. He glanced over and saw her studying the floor. Color flared on her cheeks.

"Hannah?"

"Oh, what does it matter? He's not a part of my life."

"You're hiding something. Don't tell me he was in trouble with the law, too?"

"No. Shawn…" She drew in a deep breath. "Shawn is a professional surfer."

Laughter exploded out of him. He'd expected to hear that her ex-husband was an international banker, or an investigative reporter, or a successful businessman. "A surfer?"

"Yes. He was very good. You probably saw him on ESPN. He made a good living."

"A surfer?"

She glared at him.
"Ha-ha. Very funny.
I live to entertain. Can we change the subject?"

He shook his head and continued to laugh.

"Stop it!" she demanded.

"I can't," he gasped. "It's too good. A surfer."

She turned on him and pushed. He fell back across the cushions. She was on top of him, one knee between his hip and the sofa, the other between his thighs. She grabbed his hands and pinned them by his shoulders.

"I spill my guts to you and all you do is laugh?"

He shook his head helplessly. Chuckles continued to erupt. As long as he was laughing, he couldn't collect himself enough to push her off him. When he twisted his hands, she held on savagely, still glaring at him.

Then the laughter faded and it wasn't because she was hurting him. Instead of pain, he felt a ripple of fire race through his body. He clamped his thighs around her knee, drawing her closer so that she pressed against the underside of his already-hard groin.

Her braid slipped off her shoulder to tickle and tease his chest. Their gazes locked. Her embarrassment and annoyance disappeared, replaced by an answering heat.

He wanted her. He'd always wanted her, from the first moment he'd seen her.

What would she say if he told her? Would she accept his words as truth? Would she question his motives? Would she make love with him? Or would she push him away?

"Nick," she breathed.

"Kiss me, Hannah."

The need inside him grew until it was a creature he barely controlled. She waited so long to respond, he thought she was going to move away. Instead, she lowered herself to him.

She didn't release his wrists, nor did she touch him anywhere else. There was just the brush of her mouth against his. Sweet heat. Warm pressure.

She kissed gently, tentatively, as if not completely sure of her reception. She shifted slightly and her breasts rested on his chest, her knee pressed against his inner thigh.

He parted his mouth and stroked his tongue against her lower lip. She gasped softly, then allowed him inside. She tasted of promise and surrender. He traced the tender skin on the inside of her lip, then moved past to touch her tongue with his.

The reaction was instantaneous. She released his wrists and cupped his face, holding him in place. She angled her head and opened to allow him in deeper. He obliged her, exploring her, tasting her, stroking her, arousing them both.

He brought his hands to her back and moved up and down her spine. Sleek muscles rippled under his touch. Hannah was completely feminine, but never physically fragile. Her strength appealed to him. When they became lovers, they would be equals. He could give his all to her and not have to worry about holding back.

She raised her head and stared at him. Her lips were damp and swollen, her eyes dilated. "Damn you, Nick."

"What did I do?"

"You make me feel things. I don't want you."

He smiled. "Yeah, you do."

"You're right and I hate it."

His smile faded. "I'd never hurt you."

Dark eyes turned nearly black. "But you can't swear to that. You can't promise. You can only try. And I don't think trying is going to be good enough."

Somehow the conversation had moved from sex to caring and he wasn't sure how. "I want you. That I can promise." It wasn't enough, but it was the best he could do.

He placed his hands on her hips and shifted her so she straddled both his legs. Then he drew her down to stretch out on top of him. He rolled, bringing her with him, easing her between his body and the back of the sofa. She fitted him perfectly. Their chests pressed together, long legs tangling.

"There's something I've wanted to do for a long time," he said.

"I can just imagine what that is."

He kissed the corner of her mouth. "I'm willing to bet you're wrong."

He reached behind her and tugged on the end of her braid, freeing the ribbon holding the thick coil in place. She turned her head and tried to see what he was doing.

"Stay still," he ordered. "I'm unfastening your braid."

"Why?"

He looked into her big brown eyes. "I've known you for over a year and I've never once seen your hair down."

"That's it?"

"Don't be so dismissive. For me, this is going to be close to a religious experience."

"With my hair?"