Husband by the Hour (4 page)

Nick didn't say anything as he started the engine. He selected a classical station on the radio, then pulled out and headed for the freeway.

She leaned back in the seat. Her lips still tingled. Ten bucks. The kiss was worth that and more. Originally, Nick had wanted a night of hot sex in exchange for helping her out. She'd been the one to insist on cash. Maybe, just maybe, she'd been a bit hasty in her decision.

* * *

By nine, they'd reached the northern outskirts of
Los Angeles
County
. Nick pulled off Interstate 5 in the bedroom community of
Valencia
and they got coffee at a drive-through fast-food place. When they returned to the freeway, Hannah sipped the steaming hot liquid and wondered for the four thousandth time what on earth she'd been thinking. Was she crazy?

To make matters worse, Nick could read her mind. Just as she was starting up another litany berating herself, he asked, "Why are you doing this? What's so important that you have to pretend to be married?"

She took another sip and pondered the question. Easy enough – except she didn't really want to have to tell him the truth.

He glanced at her and quirked up one eyebrow. "You probably think I'm just being nosy, but the truth is I need some background information so I can get into my role. I'm more of a method actor. You know, feel the – part and all that."

Despite her apprehension, she smiled. "That makes sense. Okay, I'll fill you in, but I have to warn you. It's a long, boring story."

"No problem. This is a long, boring drive."

He'd always had a good sense of humor. That's one of the things she liked about him. Not that she really liked him or anything. Oh, yeah, she thought, wondering if lightning would strike the sleek car. She didn't like him and she wasn't attracted to him. That's why she'd invited him to be a part of her life for the next three days and why she'd kissed him back.

At the station, he'd been a lot easier to ignore, but now no one else was around to see. She could lighten up a little. It wasn't as if she was getting involved with Nick. She knew exactly who and what he was. No matter how charming and funny, he still lived on the wrong side of the law.

"My birth mother gave me up for adoption," she said and glanced out at the low mountains around them. They were climbing out of the Santa Clarita Valley, heading north toward Glenwood. "A few months ago, I received a letter from her."

"Your real mom?"

"Yeah."

He glanced at her. "Without warning? That must have kicked up your heart rate."

"I'll admit I walked around in a fog for days. I couldn't believe it. She'd hired a private detective to find me."

"Are you angry about it?"

Hannah was surprised at his perception. She shrugged. "I don't know. Sometimes. I seem to go through stages of curiosity, longing and rage. Right now I'm curious. I want answers. I guess most children who are given up for adoption have a lot of questions. What were the circumstances in my biological mother's life? Did she give me up right away, or did she keep me around for a while? Did she…" Did she love me?

Hannah didn't voice that, although it was always deep in her mind. That was the one question that plagued her the most. Had her birth mother cared about her at all? Had this been a callous gesture, the quick and easy way to get rid of a problem? Or had there been overriding forces at work, ripping an innocent child from her caring mother?

"Did she have second thoughts?" she said, completing the statement so Nick wouldn't get any ideas. She already regretted confiding in him.

"Had you tried to get in touch with her yourself?" he asked.

"No. I thought about it from time to time, but I never knew what I was going to say if I found her. I figured if she'd wanted me in the first place, she would have kept me around."

"What do your adoptive folks say about this?"

"They died a long time ago." Hannah clutched the foam coffee cup in her hands. Twenty-three years ago. She'd been so young, she barely remembered them. She did remember being happy, though. Not just the occasional glad moment, but happy all the time.

"Any other family?" he asked.

"That's really none of your business."

"Right. I'm just the husband. Sorry, I forgot."

"It's not necessary for you to know every detail about my private life. I'm not trying to be difficult. I would simply prefer that you didn't pry."

"I'm sort of surprised you can walk as well as you do," he said.

She stared at him. "What do you mean?"

"It must be difficult, what with that giant chip on your shoulder. Most people would have to drag a leg behind them or something, just to keep balanced."

She didn't know whether to burst out laughing or slap him. "I do not have a chip on my shoulder."

"Yeah, right. You also don't keep the rest of the world away by pretending not to need anyone, either. Go on. You got this letter from your real mother. Then what happened?"

She was openmouthed at his assessment of her character. She wanted to protest that she didn't keep the world at bay. At least, not on purpose. It just sort of happened. She hadn't grown up the way everyone else had. After her adoptive parents had died, she'd never been a part of a family for any length of time. She'd been bounced around foster homes. She didn't know how to have several close friends, share pieces of her life, or even tell jokes. Socially, she was definitely at the dull-normal end of the range.

"Hannah? The letter?"

"Oh. Well, she found me by using a private detective. Apparently, all the records got messed up at the adoption agency. Plus, because I wasn't searching for her, they wouldn't give out any information they still had. Not that it would have helped, what with my parents dying."

"What does this have to do with me?" he asked. "Why do you need a husband?"

"Because when the detective located me, I was still married."

He turned his head and glared at her. "Married?" The outrage in his voice made her smile.

"Yes, married."

"Married?"

"Nick, watch the road. I want to get to Glenwood in one piece."

He returned his attention to the road and swore under his breath. "Dammit, Hannah, you didn't tell me you were married."

"Why are you acting like it matters?"

"Because it does."

"That's crazy. We don't even know each other."

"That's something a man likes to know before he pretends to be somebody's husband."

"Sorry. I'll remember that for next time."

He shook his head. "Married."

Her amusement turned to irritation. "I know it's hard for you to imagine this, but there are actually men who find me attractive. Amazingly, I did trap one into a committed relationship, at least for a short period of time."

She hadn't trapped Shawn, although the relationship had been a mistake from the beginning. They'd only been married five days. Even thinking about it made her embarrassed. It was a foolish episode from her past.

"How long have you been divorced?" he asked.

"About two months."

"Two months? You mean all this past year you were living with your
husband?
"

She sighed. "Why are you taking this so hard? You're acting like I've cheated on you. No, I wasn't living with my husband. We've been separated about four years. I just never bothered filing for divorce and neither did he. Until recently."

"What happened?"

"Nothing I want to discuss with you. The important point is that when the detective found me, I was still married. The letter from Louise – that's my biological mother – mentioned that she wanted to meet my husband."

"Why didn't you tell her the truth when you talked to her on the phone?"

The car glided over the paved highway. Hannah turned to her right and pretended interest in the billboards. "Well, one reason was that she said that she wanted us to get together while there was still time. I'm afraid she's very ill. I didn't want to upset her. She's an old woman. That's why I hired you. We show up together. I'm the long-lost daughter, you're my husband. We act pleasant. In a couple of days you get a business call and return to
Southport
Beach
. When I'm sure she can handle it, I'll tell her the truth."

"Sounds pretty flaky to me."

"I don't recall asking your opinion."

"Hey, don't worry, babe. I'm not going to charge you extra for it. I've run plenty of scams in my time."

"I'm sure you have."

He winked. "Some of them have been legitimate."

"Want to give me a percentage?"

"Not really. The trick is to keep them as close to real as possible. You should have brought the ex with you. It would have been a lot easier."

"He wasn't available right now."

"Traveling on business?"

She wondered what Nick would say if she told him about Shawn. She could already hear the teasing remarks. Better to walk on broken glass and eat poisoned dung beetles for breakfast.

"You might say that."

"I might. What would you say?"

She sucked in a breath. "Shawn is working right now."

"Oh. Shawn. Let me guess. Some Ivy League type with three numbers after his name and a pedigree longer than the grand champion at a dog show."

She bit on her lower lip to keep from laughing. Please, God, never let Nick find out the truth. "Sort of."

Nick stewed over that for a while. She watched the mile markers zip by. Ten minutes later, he said, "You never finished answering my question. Why didn't you tell your mother the truth when you talked to her on the phone?"

She crossed her legs and folded her arms over her chest. "I haven't actually spoken with her on the phone. We've been writing letters."

"Why? Wouldn't it be easier to pick up the phone and call?"

"No, it wouldn't."

She half turned in the seat, facing away from him as much as the seat belt would allow. He couldn't understand her mixed emotions about what was happening. His life was so different from hers. Nick was one of those people who was blessed. He had good looks, charm, wit, a sharp mind. It was unfortunate he'd chosen to use his talents the way he had. If he'd been honest, he could have gone far.

It was different for her. She had to worry about things. She wasn't gifted. People thought she was so calm and composed, but she felt like a poster she'd once seen of a swan. Above the surface, the bird seemed to be gliding along, but underneath the water, where no one could see, its feet were working like crazy to keep up the facade.

From the time she'd lost her parents and been dumped in her first foster home, she realized that no one wanted her around. She couldn't remember the number of times she'd been told the state wasn't paying enough for the family to keep her for long. She'd lost track of the number of houses, apartments, schools she'd been in.

For a while, she'd wanted to fit in, to belong. She'd really tried. But her attempts hadn't been enough, or she'd done it the wrong way, because no one had noticed. Eventually, she stopped trying. Sometimes the people were nice enough, but she learned early on not to depend on anyone but herself. It was better not to care. Nothing ever lasted. Even when it seemed things were working out, she was always sent somewhere else.

She felt his hand on top of hers. She pushed him away.

"Hannah, honey, I know you're scared. But it's going to be okay."

"I'm not scared and you don't know it's going to be okay."

"Sure I do. I'm here. I'm going to make it work. You'll see."

She sniffed and ignored him. Cheap talk from someone used to buying whatever he wanted. Actually, she didn't know that about Nick; she was only assuming. But it was probably true.

Instead of taking the broad hint, he once again put his hand on top of hers and squeezed gently. The comfort meant a lot to her, even though she didn't want to tell him. It would be too much like giving in. She was convinced that if she gave in – even a little – she would suffer for the rest of her life. So she held back. Resisted. Didn't say anything. She didn't trust Nick. She wasn't even sure she liked him.

But when he nudged her, she turned her hand over and let him lace his fingers through hers.

Chapter 3

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N
ick checked the rearview mirror. There was no one behind them but truckers and no one was going the speed limit. He touched a button on the cruise control panel, then glanced at Hannah. She was leaning against the passenger door, her head resting on the window. She'd been asleep for most of the morning.

He slipped a tape of classical music into the cassette player and kept the sound low. She didn't stir. He was glad. She obviously needed her rest. The shadows under her eyes weren't all from her hangover. No doubt the stress and worry about meeting her birth mother for the first time had kept her up nights.