Читать книгу Make-Believe Husband - Linda Varner - Страница 8

Chapter One

“Jessica Landers, do you take Gabriel Dillard to be your husband?”

“I do,” Jessi said, her gaze locked with that of her blue-eyed, brown-haired groom, a disconcertingly handsome male she’d met for the first time mere hours ago. Dressed in his suede jacket, denim jeans, and boots, he looked like one gorgeous hunk of mountain man. Jessi tried to picture herself cooking up some vittles for him over an open flame.

She couldn’t. Was that an omen?

“And do you, Gabriel, take Jessica to be your wife?”

“I do.”

His gaze swept Jessi from top to bottom and back up again, not missing a curve. Flustered by the appraisal, Jessi glanced away and instantly spied, of all things, the door.

Could she still escape?

Should she?

Unsure, she looked back at Dillard, who now stared at the octogenarian preacher who’d so graciously agreed to perform their Saturday-night wedding.

Desperate to affirm that she wasn’t making the biggest mistake in her thirty—almost thirty-one—years, Jessi stole the moment to study Dillard’s profile. Surely there were hints of character there, she thought, at once noting the telltale dimple in his cheek. Companion to the wicked twinkle in his eye, it promised a crooked sense of humor even as the set of his nose and chin promised bullheaded stubbornness.

“Are there rings?”

“Oh, um, yes,” Jessi replied, tugging from her thumb the ring she’d purchased for Dillard that afternoon. She wondered if her rugged groom had remembered to buy one, a worry proved needless when he immediately dug into an inside pocket of his jacket. Jessica guessed he’d bought a plain gold band like the one she’d purchased for him. Not knowing his personal tastes really had narrowed her choices.

“Exchange the rings, please.”

With hands that trembled as badly as the old reverend’s, Jessi slipped the circle of gold onto Dillard’s third finger, left hand. He then did the same to her, his large hands steady, his touch electric. Jessi didn’t give the marriage token so much as a glance, so rattled was she by that brief but disconcerting contact.

His good looks and blatant masculinity could prove damned distracting during their marriage of convenience, she realized with some dismay—just one of many reasons to get the hell out of Sacramento before it was too late.

Or was he really the problem? she then asked herself. In truth, weren’t three years’ worth of celibacy more to blame for tonight’s sweaty palms and hammering heart?

But of course, she reassured herself. These lonely days, even Frankenstein had sex appeal....

At that moment, the preacher murmured approval of their cooperation thus far, a sound that barely penetrated Jessi’s daze of indecision. “Now face one another and, in unison, repeat after me—with this ring I promise to be your partner....”

Jessi automatically echoed the words she’d agreed to mere hours ago, noting with much embarrassment how breathless she sounded now compared to Dillard’s resonant bass. No doubt the witnesses to tonight’s ceremony—Elaina Rivera of Rivera Employment Agency, and the preacher’s wife, name forgotten—could hear the tremor.

“I will respect, trust and care for you...”

“‘I will respect, trust and care for you...”’

“From this day, forever.”

Forever? Jessi’s heart stopped. The word was forth. She’d written it herself. Was the old man ad-libbing or just too blind to read? Confused, Jessi darted a glance at Dillard, who, for the first time that night, looked a little bemused himself.

“From this day forever....” the bespectacled reverend patiently prompted, obviously used to nervous brides and grooms who forgot their lines.

Jessi swallowed convulsively. Short of making a scene that might alert this man of God to their unusual circumstances—namely, the fact that there was no chance of a forever between them—she had no choice but to repeat the line. Clearly Dillard came to the same conclusion at the same instant, for in unison they made a vow that neither intended to keep.

“‘From this day forever....”’

The preacher smiled. “By the powers invested in me by the state of California this fifteenth day of October, I pronounce you man and wife.” As though this was his favorite part of the ceremony, he took off his glasses and beamed at Dillard. “You may kiss the bride.”

So here it was...the intimacy she’d dreaded ever since she’d first laid eyes on him that morning. The butterflies in Jessi’s stomach fluttered wildly, the culmination of a week’s worth of prevarication, no doubt. Determined not to embarrass herself and Dillard by recoiling, she squared her shoulders and stood her ground as her husband stepped forward. Instead of kissing her, however, he reached out, grabbed her right hand and pumped it vigorously up and down.

“This is great...perfect. Thanks a million.” The next instant, Dillard released her to shake hands with the startled man who’d just married them.

Immediately, Elaina rushed forward to offer congratulations and, no doubt, distract the preacher and his frowning wife. Jessi, feeling shockingly cheated by the unexpected handshake, barely noticed. There followed a lecture on filing the license at the courthouse on Monday to make everything legal, after which Dillard paid the preacher for services rendered. He then scooped up his cowboy hat from a pew and hustled Jessi and Elaina out of the tiny chapel, a picturesque structure in the heart of the busy city.

On a rush of night air came a momentary lift of spirits that was mostly due to relief. It was over. Done. She was well and truly married...at least for now. The bad of it was that she had a husband who made her damned nervous. The good was that a few weeks’ worth of high adventure in the form of a treasure hunt lay ahead, not to mention a hefty salary.

Since the good far outweighed the bad—the man had furnished ten references, after all—there was definitely a rainbow stretched across yesterday’s bleak horizon. And in the pot at the end of it waited more than enough money to pay back her student loans and put a down payment on a house.

Then she’d find a good location and start her own catering business or maybe open a neighbourhood café or something.

“Dinner is my treat,” Elaina announced when they paused under the overhang of the porch roof, adding, “That is, if you two don’t have other plans...?”

“Actually, I wasn’t sure how long all this would take, so I told my sitter I’d be late,” Jessi replied. Anna Kate, her four-year-old daughter, was home in their Highlands, California, apartment with the teenaged girl who kept her when Jessi worked nights—too often this past year. Since those two always had a ball together, neither would mind if Jessi and her new husband...Oh God...dined with the woman whose ingenuity had brought them together.

“Gabe?” Elaina, an innovative employment contractor of national reputation, had turned to the groom.

“No plans,” he said, finger combing his shaggy brown hair and then settling his hat just so on his head.

“Good. The two of you have a nine o’clock reservation at Chateau en Espagne right up the street, there.”

“You mean you’re not going, too?” Jessi blurted in a panic.

“No, dear,” Elaina said, giving her shoulder a reassuring pat. “You and Gabe may have memorized one another’s résumés and vital statistics, but you still need time alone to get better acquainted. Much is at stake here for all of us. I want everything to go off without a hitch when you meet August Taylor on Monday afternoon.”

“Actually,” Dillard drawled, “‘a hitch’ is exactly why we’re here tonight, isn’t it?”

“So it is,” Elaina agreed. Laughing, she reached for the marriage certificate he held and tucked it into her purse. “I’ll just take this, if you don’t mind. Promised I’d fax a copy to our employer tonight. I’ll give it back so you can make everything legal before you leave town Monday morning.”

Gabe shook his head slowly from side to side as though vastly amused by the whole situation. Jessi wished she could feel as lighthearted about everything. Unfortunately, reality had dawned and her rainbow dimmed correspondingly.

What on earth have I done?

“Now the restaurant is just a block south...see those twinkling lights there? They’re expecting you.” Elaina hugged Dillard hard, then stepped up to Jessi and did the same. “Relax, honey,” she whispered before releasing her. “This is only for three weeks, four tops. Think of the money and remember I personally checked for a criminal record. This man is so clean I was half tempted to marry him, myself. Unfortunately I can’t cook.”

Jessi nodded numbly. In seconds, she and Dillard stood alone.

“Shall we?” he asked, offering her his hand and a smile.

Swallowing hard, Jessi accepted both, and with fingers lightly laced, they headed down the path to the sidewalk. She felt awkward and uncomfortable, as though she’d worn shoes that didn’t match and was trying to keep everyone from noticing.

Undoubtedly this resulted from the fact that he was so easy on the eyes—something for which she’d not been prepared. It didn’t help that her companion didn’t appear the least bit perturbed about anything. And when he began to whistle the “Wedding March” under his breath, she stopped short and glared at him.

“Oh, Mr. Dillard, must you?” The sacrilege appalled her.

“Second thoughts?”

Jessi, who wanted to know the answer to that question herself, gave it serious consideration before replying. “Actually, I’m way past seconds and almost through thirds.”

“But I assumed you were okay with this.”

“I am...was...am.” She sighed. “I guess I just don’t know how to act around you.”

“If you promise to call me Gabe,” he said, “I’ll share my plan of action.”

So he wasn’t one hundred percent comfortable with this, either. Oddly enough, that made Jessi feel a little better.

“Okay...Gabe.”

He glanced back the way they’d come, and, with a grunt of confirmation, turned to lead her to a stone bench on the narrow lawn of the chapel. It lay in shadow, protected from the glow of the streetlight by an oak tree. Gabe motioned for her to sit, then did the same without releasing her hand.

“All you have to do is pretend that you and I have just landed the leads in the biggest, best adventure movie of the year. August Taylor is the producer, the director, the cameraman and the crew. Whenever he’s around, we’re a married couple in charge of an expedition trying to find lost treasure. I’m the hero, also known as the trusty guide. You’re the heroine, also known as the beautiful cook.”

Beautiful?

“The rest of the time, we can be ourselves—a search and rescue guide with big dreams and a...?” Obviously he waited for her to fill in the blank.

“Financially overextended chef with a dependent child.”

“Exactly. We’re co-workers who recognize that opportunities to earn this kind of money don’t come along except once in a lifetime and so we don’t mind signing an inconsequential partnership agreement—”

“The marriage license...?”

Gabe nodded. “—if that’s what it takes to make this happen. Now are you feeling better about the whole thing now?”

“Sort of, but—”

“You have other questions.” It was a statement of fact.

Jessi detected no impatience in his tone.

“Frankly, yes, a few other questions have popped into my head.”

“Ask them. We have fifteen minutes to spare.”

“Okay....” She took a deep breath and selected one of the many queries tumbling about unanswered in her head. “For one thing, I’m still a little confused about my role in all this. Why can’t August Taylor’s wife just make you guys some sandwiches or something when you get hungry? For that matter, why can’t you make your own? Anyone—including my four-year-old—can slap a slice of bologna between a couple of pieces of bread.”

“I’ve wondered about that myself,” Gabe admitted. “I mean, if more people were going to be involved—if a photographer or a bunch of technicians were tagging along—I could see the need for a cook, couldn’t you?”

“Of course, but that isn’t the case.”

“No, it isn’t.” He shrugged, for all appearances as bewildered by their employer’s eccentric demands as Jessi, if not as worried about them. “What was Elaina’s theory about all this? Assuming you discussed it with her...”

“So many times that she was beginning to get a little impatient with me.” Jessi gave him a rueful smile. “You know that old saying about looking a gift horse in the mouth...? Elaina knows that by heart—and by now, so do I.”

Gabe grinned. “So she thinks you should quit worrying about how easy the job sounds?”

“I believe her words were ‘take the money and run.”’

“Great advice since I can’t answer that question, either. Now...any other concerns?” He sat on the edge of the bench, obviously ready to spring to his feet and head to the restaurant.

“Yes, as a matter of fact,” Jessi said, gently pushing his shoulder with her free hand to indicate that he might as well settle back and get comfortable again. With a soft sigh of resignation, he did just that. “I can’t get a handle on August Taylor. Why do you think a man like him would have this burning need to hunt for lost treasure that may not even exist? I mean, he’s already established himself as an archeologist and a writer. This just seems so...so undignified, not to mention a tad far-fetched.”

Absently, Gabe stroked Jessi’s hand, which he still held. She wondered if he’d forgotten it.

“You know that this expedition is the result of a book Taylor wrote on ghost towns, Native American myths and western folklore, don’t you?”

Jessi nodded, well aware, thanks to one of Elaina’s many briefings, that the archeologist-turned-journalist had already done enough research on the topics to produce a lavishly illustrated coffee-table book. “Yes, and I’ve wondered why the shift in focus. I mean, the chances of your really finding long lost treasure are probably slim to none.”

“If not less,” Gabe wryly agreed. “My own personal theory is that this impulsive quest has more to do with the poor reviews of the book and the stories in the latest tabloids than with any real desire to find gold or whatever.” Now he dropped her hand, but only so he could use his hands to place his next words, like a headline, in the sky. ‘“Is August Taylor All Washed Up?’”

“I read that. At the time I thought it was cruel.”

At once, Gabe arched an eyebrow at her as if questioning her reading tastes.

Jessi ignored him. “And now that I think about it, there was another headline, too, something about his wife, Shari, and her tennis coach.”

“An affair or two have been rumored, I believe. That’s a natural assumption, I expect. She’s quite young—less than half his age.”

“Which brings me to my third and last question—”

“Last?” He gazed longingly toward the restaurant.

“Last,” Jessi replied, biting back a smile. Clearly the way to this Washingtonian’s heart was through his stomach. That would be good news to a gourmet cook such as herself... if she were trying to win his heart, which she most definitely wasn’t. “Is Shari’s bad reputation the reason we had to get married? I mean, Elaina did make up that story about our living together for two years. Why the need for a wedding?”

“I figure one of two reasons—either Elaina’s a lousy liar or our mythical cohabitation wasn’t enough for him, and he wanted some hard evidence of commitment. Either way, it’s clear that he doesn’t trust his wife, probably the reason she’s being dragged along on this expedition, and, now that I think of it, maybe even the reason you are, too. He’s afraid she won’t behave herself around an unattached guide as dashing as me and wants you along to keep her occupied and act as chaperon.” He suddenly grinned again. “Or maybe we’re all wet on this thing. Maybe she doesn’t trust him, and it’s the shapely cook’s marital status, not the guide’s, that’s to blame for these mandatory nuptials—a sort of loop of suspicion.”

Jessi groaned and pressed her fingertips to her temples. “Oh please stop. You’re giving me a headache.”

“The point is moot anyway.... We’ve tied the knot.” For a heartbeat, he looked as if that knot might be part of a noose that now choked him. Then he gave her a half smile that could have meant anything. “You haven’t said how you like the ring.”

At a loss, Jessi frowned. “What ring?”

“The one on your finger. The one I bought for you today.”

“Oh, of course. I’m sorry.” For the first time, Jessi took a good look at her third finger, left hand. She saw a wide gold band as expected, but mounted on it was an exquisite, rectangular-cut amethyst. Stunned, she raised her gaze to Gabe. “I can’t believe you bought this.”

“I know a diamond is traditional, but when I saw that stone and realized it matched your eyes, I had to have it.”

“My God, Gabe. We’re only going to be married for a few weeks. What will you do with it after that?”

“What will you do with mine?” he countered, raising his left hand and spreading his fingers as if to remind her of the band she’d bought for him. It looked too plain now. Embarrassingly cheap.

“It doesn’t matter. It didn’t cost one fourth of what this one did.” Jessi eyed her ring, which sparkled even in the poor lighting. She’d never had anything so gorgeous—she already dreaded giving it back.

Gabe frowned, obviously picking up on her heartfelt distress. “I put it on my plastic, okay? A delayed payment plan that was part of some early Christmas promotion or something. The first charge won’t even come through until February, next year. I’ll return the ring long before that.”

“You think?”

“Sure, and if it doesn’t work out that way...what the heck?

Call it a birthday present—I know you have one coming up shortly—” he held up his hands to ward off her immediate protest ”—or consider it payment for putting up with my shenanigans. You’ll probably more than earn that ring before this is over, you know. Marriage to me—even this fake one—won’t be easy.”

Jessi opened her mouth to argue but never got the chance since Gabe touched his forefinger to her lips to halt the tumbling words.

“It’s done, Jessi. Can we just let it rest?”

“If that’s what you really want...”

“It’s what I want.”

She shrugged her shoulders in reluctant cooperation.

Visibly relieved, Gabe flashed that full-fledged, killer smile of his. “Good. Now can we please go eat the dinner Elaina graciously arranged for us? I’m so hungry, I’m weak.”

Weak, did he say?

Well, so was Jessi...but not with hunger.

It was the man who made her weak—every golden-tanned, muscled-and-toned, just-too-gorgeous inch of him. And when he reached out his hand to tug her to her feet, Jessi’s heart thumped hard once, then settled into an erratic rhythm she suspected might haunt her for the duration of their brief marriage.