Читать книгу Marriage of Revenge - Sheri WhiteFeather, Sheri WhiteFeather - Страница 7

Less than a week later, Talia sat next to Aaron on a flight that took them to Reno. Silent, she sipped apple juice and picked at the snack the flight attendant had distributed.

As specified, Aaron had created their cover, right down to her auburn wig. The chin-length hairstyle he’d chosen for her was straight and sleek. The designer clothes he’d suggested were from last season’s collection. He’d told her that she was going to play an elegant thirtysomething wife who stood by the man she’d married. Or that was the impression she gave. In truth, she was struggling to hold her emotions together, to remain loyal to a gambler who maxed out their credit cards, drove a car that was beyond his means and insisted on the finest foods and best hotels.

A pretentious Californian, she thought.

The trip to Nevada was the husband’s idea. He wanted to hit Reno, Carson City, Las Vegas and Laughlin, sightseeing in between. But his wife had other ideas. Once their vacation was under way, she was going to threaten him with divorce if he didn’t get some help.

According to Aaron, they loved each other. Deeply, desperately. So her threat was going to work. But not without a struggle. He didn’t want to lose his wife, but he didn’t want to admit that he was a compulsive gambler. That he was ill. That his actions were destroying their lives.

Talia glanced at Aaron. He’d changed his appearance, too. He’d added threads of gray to his hair, making him seem a bit older than he was. He’d changed the color of his eyes with greenish-gold contacts and dusted his skin with an amber-hued bronzer, softening the deep, dark tone. Like Talia, his features had been altered with carefully applied prosthetics. Although he still carried an ethnic flair, his heritage wasn’t easy to define. To her, he looked like a suntanned American with European roots.

He toasted her with his cocktail, and Talia wished that his non-Native genetics were real. If his culture hadn’t been an issue, he would have married her all those years ago. Their relationship would have worked.

After their plane touched down in Reno, Aaron rented a luxury car, which they would use on the remainder of their trip.

His new name was Andy Torres, and hers was Tina. They lived in Los Angeles, and he was a real estate agent who gambled away most of his commissions, chasing his dream to win big and maintain the lifestyle he craved. She ran a successful Internet business, but his losses were cutting into her hard-earned endeavors and putting them deeper in debt.

Once they arrived at the Reno hotel, Talia’s nerves kicked in. She was going to spend the next two to three weeks posing as Aaron’s wife, sharing rooms with him at night, waking up each morning with the shower running, watching him emerge with a towel wrapped around his waist.

This was too close for comfort, she thought. A job she should have refused. But she wanted to find Julia and her mother. She wanted to help them survive, to turn them over to the FBI for safekeeping.

Julia and Miriam didn’t know a hit man had been contracted to kill them. Originally Julia had been kidnapped as a threat, as a means to force Miriam into paying her interest-bearing debt. Only Miriam hadn’t complied. After Julia was rescued, she and her daughter had run away.

Then came the hired assassin.

Aaron handed Talia a key card. “We’re on the fourth floor. Poolside.”

She merely nodded. The hotel was big and brightly lit, with a maze of slot machines and gaming tables at its disposal.

Her husband, as she was forcing herself to think of him for the sake of their cover, had an anxious gleam in his eye. He looked like the gambler he was supposed to be.

But he wasn’t, of course. He was the former lover who’d yanked out her heart, who was reaching for her hand while the busy bellhop tagged their luggage.

She wanted to tell him to leave her alone, but Tina, the wife she was portraying, wouldn’t cause a scene in public. So she let him hold her hand.

In the crowded elevator, he lifted it to his lips, brushing it with a barely there kiss.

Gallant, sexy.

Her entire body went warm.

When he smiled, she leaned into his ear and called him a jerk. He kept smiling, as though she’d just whispered something soft and sweet.

Once they were alone in the room, she ripped her hand from his.

“Don’t get testy,” he said, looking tall and tanned and much too smug.

“Then don’t get so affectionate.” She fought the sensual chill he’d given her. “Andy doesn’t need to be all over his wife.”

“Did I tell you that Tina and Andy have a great sex life?” He sat on the edge of the bed and waited for the bellhop. “After they fight, they make love.”

“Like we used to?” The solitary bed was a problem, she thought. A major obstacle. “I’ll be giving you a pillow and a blanket, and you’ll be sleeping on the floor, Romeo.”

“No way, Juliet. I’m going to—”

A knock sounded at the door, and Aaron quit talking and answered the summons, allowing the bellhop to enter. He tipped the young man generously, playing his Andy Torres part with ease. Andy wouldn’t let anyone at the hotel call him cheap. He wanted the employees to think he was rich.

After the bellhop left, he turned to Talia. “Change into a pretty dress, and we’ll haunt the casino. And after I win some money, I’ll take you out for a candlelit dinner.”

“We’re not here to play.”

“Andy is.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Andy is going to lose his shirt.”

“Not tonight. Tonight he feels lucky. Besides, Aaron is a hell of a craps player.”

“I’m not interested in a candlelit dinner.”

“Yeah, but Tina is. She needs to be close to Andy. She needs to pretend their lives are normal before she threatens to divorce him.”

“I’m looking forward to that part. I can’t wait to burst Andy’s bubble.”

“We can fake a fight tomorrow.” Aaron unzipped Talia’s suitcase and removed a black dress that was stitched in silver, then tossed it to her. “Now be a good girl and get dolled up for your husband. He’s going to put on some nice duds, too.”

Before he stripped in front of her, she headed for the bathroom to get away from him and slip on her dress, knowing that Andy was going to romance his wife this evening.

And Talia was going to suffer for it.

Aaron was a hell of a craps player. Either that or Talia was his lucky charm. Every time it was his turn to roll the dice, he asked her to blow on them. It was cheesy, she thought. But it was working.

They’d been in the casino for hours, and he was racking up a stack of chips. She didn’t understand the game, not completely. But it was thrilling to watch him win.

“I told you,” he said, dropping a hundred-dollar chip down the front of her dress, where a scooped neckline revealed a hint of cleavage.

Stunned, she felt the cool metal object fall between her breasts and settle in her bra. “A husband shouldn’t do that to his wife.”

“Even if he’s married to Lady Luck?” He pulled her tight against him. Then he kissed her, deep and slow and hot.

She nearly stumbled, even in the medium-heeled pumps she wore. There they were, standing at the craps table, his tongue coaching hers. Suddenly she couldn’t think straight. She had no idea what Tina was supposed to do. So she let her husband make a sexual spectacle of her, with other male players cheering him on.

Andy Torres knew exactly what he was doing. Or was it Aaron Trueno? The lines were blurring between real life and the roles they were playing.

He tasted like the whiskey sour he’d drunk, like the intoxication that spilled through her blood.

When he let her go, she knew she was in trouble. That he would con his way into her bed.

But not into her pants, she decided, struggling to come to her senses. “You promised me dinner.”

“Now? While I’m winning?”

“Yes.” Anything to get him away from the table, from the seduction that was ringing in her ears.

“Women.” He laughed, playing his part to perfection. Then he leaned toward her and whispered, “That was some blow job. On the dice,” he added, much too softly.

She wanted to punish him, to put him in his place, but she couldn’t think of a sharp-tongued reply.

He waited for her to respond, and when she didn’t, he touched her cheek. “I love you, Tina.”

Talia, she thought, her brain horribly befuddled. My name is Talia.

He led her through the casino and into a seafood restaurant on the lobby floor, where he gave the hostess their name and they waited to be seated.

“You’re not playing fair,” she said.

“Because I’m good at what I do?”

“Yes.” The pain of pretending to be his wife hit her like a fist. She even clenched her stomach to sustain the impact. “I shouldn’t have taken this trip with you.”

“It’s too late now.” He rubbed his thumb over the showy diamond she wore, a wedding ring that didn’t really belong to her.

She hated that he was staying in character, not missing a beat. Yet he’d managed to speak between the lines, too. To say what he meant.

Everything except the I love you part.

The hostess called their phony last name, and they were escorted to a dimly lit corner. Aaron sat beside her in the cozy booth, and she looked into the greenish-gold color of his eyes, the contact lenses that helped change his appearance.

He studied the changes in her, as well, touching the ends of her hair, treating her wig as though it were real.

“I used to date a blonde who looked a lot like you,” he said.

“Then maybe you should have married her.”

“She wasn’t lucky for me.”

“Neither am I.”

He reached down the front of her dress and removed the hundred-dollar chip. “Sure you are.”

“It was a fluke.” Her pulse picked up speed. “I’m not going to blow on the dice again.”

He smiled, grazing her with the metal token. “Then what are you going to blow?”

“My temper,” she told him, wishing he wasn’t so appealing. The candlelight he’d promised was flickering across his skin.

He continued to smile, taking the position of power. “Redheads are supposed to be fiery.”

“And blondes are dumb?”

“Not the blonde I knew. She was as sharp as a machete.”

“Did she cut you?” she asked, hoping he would say yes.

His smile fell. “Yeah, she sliced me open. Right here.” He indicated his heart. “Where it hurts.”

Good for her, she thought. For me.

Their waitress arrived to take their orders, but they’d forgotten to look at their menus.

“Will you give us a minute?” Aaron asked. His hand was still covering his heart. “We got a little lost. In each other,” he added, making Talia’s pulse pick up speed again.

Now she knew why Tina was supposed to love him.

Their server left, and by the time she returned, Aaron was ready for another whiskey sour. Talia decided to have one, too. To relive the flavor of his kiss. For Tina.

For the woman who would be threatening to divorce him.

They ordered the same meal, choosing the special, a seafood combination that included poached salmon and baked oysters. When their platters arrived, she adjusted the linen napkin on her lap.

He caught her gaze, looking at her over the rim of his glass. “Do you think they’re really an aphrodisiac?”

She knew he meant the oysters. “No.” And now she wished she’d ordered something else. She didn’t want to talk about foods that made people sexual.

“Too bad.” He finished his drink. “Of course you could be wrong.”

“I’m not.”

“You won’t know until after you eat them.”

“I’ve eaten them before.”

“Not while you’ve been sitting so close to me.”

He brushed her arm, then reached for his fork, leaving her staring at the oysters on her plate. She wasn’t about to put them in her mouth.

“Afraid?” he asked.

Terrified, she thought.

And it only got worse when dinner ended and they went upstairs to their room, where he locked the door.

And waited for her to get ready for bed.

Aaron watched Talia rifle through her suitcase.

She glanced up at him and frowned. “Quit looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re going to get lucky.”

“I just want to see what you’re going to wear to bed.” He knew he was making her nervous, and he was enjoying the show.

She squinted at him. “I brought a flannel nightgown.”

“Yeah, right. A femme fatale in flannel.” He was already hard, thinking about sleeping next to her. She grabbed a silky garment from her suitcase, and he grinned.

“Get over yourself, Aaron. I wear this when I’m alone. I didn’t bring it for you.”

“Can I watch you change?”

“No.” She removed her wig and threw it at him. Then she released her hair from a nylon cap, letting the blond locks flow free.

He caught the wig. “Are you sure I can’t watch you take off your clothes?”

“No.” She walked past him and into the bathroom, closing the door with a kiss-my-butt thud.

“Witch,” he said to the wig.

“I heard that,” Talia called out from behind the door.

“Because you’ve got bat ears.” And a pretty little tattoo that turned him on. He was dying to see her naked, to relish all of those sweet, soft curves.

Talia took forever in the bathroom, but he knew she would. She always soaked in the tub at night. Aaron preferred brisk morning showers.