Husband for Hire

“I could rub your neck for you before we go,” she said.

“Worker’s compensation?” he asked, his eyes sparkling, as if he knew exactly why she’d offered. She’d practically drooled over him when she’d seen him shirtless.

“Just for a little while,” he said after a few seconds.

“Shirt off, please,” she said, aiming for casualness.

He unbuttoned it then tossed it onto the second chair. Becca set her hands on his shoulders. His skin felt warm and smooth, his muscles bunched and tight.

“Relax,” she said quietly. “It’ll be more effective.”

She felt his shoulders relax but noticed that he wasn’t shutting his eyes, his gaze aimed at the kitchen. To distract himself? Did he think he wouldn’t feel her touch as much?

“Close your eyes, Gavin. Enjoy it.”

“I might enjoy it too much.”

Dear Reader,

How do you measure success? In Husband for Hire, I explore that question, seeking answers to a subject that is individual and personal. What constitutes success can only be defined by the individual, obviously, but there are universal aspects, especially regarding the balance of work and play. Now and then we need to slow down, step back and take a look at where we’ve been, where we are and where we’re going. And if we don’t like what we see, we need the courage to change. Change is hard, as my characters Gavin and Becca discover, but well worth the journey. Learning to stop and smell the roses isn’t a cliché for them, but a necessary action to peace of mind—and to finding love.

I hope you enjoy their journey,

Susan

About the Author

SUSAN CROSBY believes in the value of setting goals, but also in the magic of making wishes, which often do come true—as long as she works hard enough. Along life’s journey she’s done a lot of the usual things—married, had children, attended college a little later than the average co-ed and earned a BA in English. Then she dived off the deep end into a full-time writing career, a wish come true.

Susan enjoys writing about people who take a chance on love, sometimes against all odds. She loves warm, strong heroes and good-hearted, self-reliant heroines, and she will always believe in happily-ever-after. More can be learned about her at www.susancrosby.com.

Husband

for Hire

Susan Crosby

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For Jerry and Linda, a hardworking couple who also remember to stop and smell the roses—and the cactus! You’re such an inspiration.

Chapter One

“I knew it,” Gavin Callahan said, aiming his fork at his sister Shana. “I knew you had an ulterior motive for inviting me to lunch.”

The downtown Sacramento bistro teemed with lunchgoers whose voices echoed in the small space. Gavin had been thoroughly enjoying a well-prepared Cobb salad—until Shana dropped her bombshell.

“Hear me out before you dismiss the idea altogether,” Shana said, flicking her golden-blond hair out of her face. “You’d only be pretending to be some one’s husband for two days. That’s all. Two short days out of your life. Really, Gavin, what else are you doing, anyway? You’re on leave from work. You’re single. You’re free to come and go. It could be fun.”

“It doesn’t interest me in the least. And I took a leave of absence for a reason, Shana.”

“Please, please, please,” she begged. “You won acting awards in high school. You were good! It’ll be fun, and you’ll be doing me a favor that could end up boosting my career with the agency. Pretty please, Gavin. You want to help a single mom struggling to raise a baby girl, don’t you? Your own sweet niece …”

Gavin laughed at her dramatic cajoling. At twenty-nine, she was five years younger than he. They hadn’t been particularly close while growing up, and until recently they hadn’t even seen each other for ten years, although that hadn’t been his fault.

“You’re aware of what I’ve been through in the past year,” he said. “I was assaulted by enough lies to know I wouldn’t want to deliberately participate in one myself. Plus, I respect the institution of marriage. And another thing, how do you think anyone successfully fakes being married, even for two days?” He shook his head. “I’ll pass.”

Shana reached across the table and grabbed his hand. “I’m serious about this helping my career,” she said earnestly. “Julia Swanson—she’s the one who owns the temp agency—is desperate. If I can find a man to take the job, she’ll think of me first for the really good jobs that come in. The more money I make, the less dependent I am on anyone else. I want to stand on my own, Gavin.”

“Now you’ve stooped to emotional blackmail?” he asked, although his heart did twist just a little.

“Did it work?” She looked hopeful and expectant, with just enough mischievousness in her eyes to make him smile.

He took a sip of water, watching her, letting her wait. Finally he said, “I’ll meet with this Julia Swanson and see what she has to say.”

Shana bounced up and ran around the table to hug him, almost choking the breath out of him.

“I’m not promising anything,” he said sternly.

“Julia can talk anyone into doing anything.” She looked smug as she sat down again. “You have a one-o’clock appointment with her, so hurry up and finish your lunch.”

“Pretty sure of yourself,” he said, catching their server’s attention to get the bill.

“‘Be prepared,’ you know,” she quipped. “Her office is on the third floor of the building across the street. I’ll go with you.”

“You’ve done enough, thank you. I can take it from here.”

She wrinkled her nose at him. “Call me when you’ve decided, either way, okay?”

“You’ll be the first to know.” They walked outside. Shana pointed to the building. “Don’t get your hopes up,” he said, then hugged her, relieved to feel the few pounds she’d put on recently. She was still too slender, but it was progress.

Gavin made his way to the office of At Your Service, a high-end clerical and household staffing business. For the past few months Shana had been working temp jobs through the agency—nicknamed by its clients “Wives for Hire.” Or in this case, Gavin thought, “Husband for Hire.” He wondered if this spin on their nickname had ever happened before.

“Ms. Swanson will be right with you,” a pretty brunette receptionist said to him after he entered the quiet, tasteful office. “Please make yourself comfortable.”

Although several chairs were lined up in the reception area, Gavin couldn’t sit. Instead he wandered over to a window overlooking the busy street below. He could almost feel the energy—mostly negative—crackling inside him. He didn’t like being placed in this position. He wanted Shana to be successful, but—

“Hello, Gavin,” said a smooth, female voice from behind him. “I’m Julia Swanson. Please come in.”

The woman was ageless and elegant, from her demure ash-blond upsweep to her sage-green suit to her four-inch heels, which brought her within a couple of inches of his six feet. He followed her into her office. On the wall behind her wide, mahogany desk was the company logo, along with the words When you need the personal touch … printed in gold-script lettering, classy and subdued, like everything else about Julia Swanson’s business.

“Have a seat,” she said as she sat behind her desk.

“Thanks,” he said, glancing at her window. “I’ve been living in San Francisco for so long, I forget Sacramento has a distinctive skyline of its own.”

“I love this town. It’s a big city but with a neighborhood feel.” She opened a folder on her desktop. “Your sister wasn’t exaggerating.”

“Knowing Shana, I’m not sure I want you to explain that.”

Julia smiled. “She said you were tall, surfer-blond and handsome.”

“Surfer?” He shoved his fingers through his hair, long overdue for a cut. “That’s payback for me calling her Goldilocks since she was a kid, I suppose.”

“I understand a man in your position would normally never take nor even need to take a temporary job like this,” Julia said. “It pays well, but I think that’s beside the point for you. Frankly you’d be doing me a favor, and you don’t owe me anything.”

“On the contrary. Shana has blossomed since she got involved with At Your Service. My sister Dixie and I are grateful. A favor wouldn’t be out of order here. Which is why I’m here talking to you, at least.”

“Thank you for that. Someone gave me a big break once. I never forget it.”

Gavin had also gotten a few breaks here and there. He remembered how grateful he’d been, had tried to repay the generosity when he could.

“I admire Shana,” Julia said. “She’s incredibly hardworking but also flexible, which is often an even more important quality in this field. What describes you, Gavin?”

“I’ve been accused of working 24/7, which is not true. It’s more like 18/7. And in my line of work, being flexible is also critical.” He shrugged. “You do understand that I’m here only because Shana begged me? The job itself doesn’t really interest me, especially the lying. I doubt I could do it.”

Julia settled in more comfortably, a small smile on her face. He could usually pinpoint a woman’s age, but this woman could be on either side of forty by several years.

“That goes both ways, Gavin. I’m not sure about you yet, either, even with your sister’s glowing recommendation. I did find a lot about you online.”

He waited for her to follow up on that statement, but she left it there, hanging.

“I take it I passed or I wouldn’t have gotten this far in the process,” he said.

“The only blemish anywhere in your background was your recent legal problem, but that’s resolved, I see. I do require your permission to run a credit check before I recommend you to the client. It speaks to character, you know.”

“My ‘recent legal problem,’” he repeated, wondering how long it would take before it stopped hurting when he thought about it. “Resolved but not forgotten. And your client has been vetted also? I don’t want to worry about her trying to take advantage of my virtuous nature.”

Julia laughed softly. “Yes, she’s been thoroughly investigated. On paper and in person, she comes across as decent, except …”

He waited through her silence until he couldn’t stand it any longer. “Except?”

“I’m trying to find the right word. She’s desperate, but I think that’s her current state, not her norm. I imagine you’re a pretty good judge of character, so why don’t you just meet her and see for yourself?”

He found it interesting that Julia called the client desperate. Shana had called Julia that, yet the cool, calm woman gave no hint of desperation. “And if I don’t take the job?”

“We’ve got nine days. I’ll fill the position. Maybe not with someone who meets the requirements as well as you do, but that’s not your problem, is it?”

Oh, she was good. A velvet steamroller. He saw why she was successful, especially in the high-end market, where charm and good taste mattered a lot.

“All right. I’ll talk to her,” he said, not promising anything else.

Julia passed him two forms. One gave her permission to run his credit check, the other was already filled out with the name Rebecca Sheridan and an address. “I’ll call you on your cell phone to cancel the interview if something in your credit check doesn’t cut it. Otherwise, she’ll be available at six o’clock at home. I’ll let her know to expect you. If you’ll call and leave me a message when your interview is over, I’d appreciate it.”

“Of course.”

They stood and shook hands, their eyes meeting. He wondered what her story was. She didn’t wear a wedding ring. No personal photos sat on her desk. Women tended to have pictures visible, especially of their children.

“Thank you, Gavin. Shana deserves a bonus.”

“I haven’t said yes.”

Julia smiled slowly. “Yet.”

Gavin said goodbye and left the office, taking the stairs, not willing to wait for the elevator. He emerged into the late-April day breathing normally for what seemed like the first time in … well, in a year, if he was being honest. He had something other than himself to focus on at last.

He could thank his bossy kid sister for that. Maybe, in time, he would.

Becca Sheridan was running late. Like the rest of her coworkers she rarely left work before seven o’clock. Today she had an appointment at six, which meant she had only fifteen minutes to walk to her downtown, high-rise loft and tidy things up a little before the candidate arrived. Gavin, she recalled. Gavin Callahan.

A nice name, she decided. He sounded professional.

Suki Takeda leaned into Becca’s open doorway. “Are you excited?”

“I can’t believe I’m going along with this ruse.”

“It’ll get your brothers off your back, won’t it?”

“If I can convince them it’s true.” Becca gave her best friend a doubtful look then grabbed her briefcase. “You know them. They’re suspicious by nature.”

“If you convince Eric, the other three will buy it.” Suki looked around as if she were a spy, her short black ponytail quivering with the quick movements. “You made a good decision to use an agency instead of asking one of the guys here.”

“I couldn’t take that chance. This way it’s a business deal only. No strings. No repercussions.”

“Call me when he leaves.” Suki pointed a finger at Becca. “If you don’t, you can bet I’ll show up on your doorstep. I really do think you ought to meet at a coffee shop, you know.”

“I know. But the agency checks everyone out. I’ll be fine.” She hugged Suki as she rushed out her office door. “Wish me luck.”

“Luck!”

The cheerful shout stayed with Becca as she was leaving the office, waving goodbye. Craig was tossing a basketball into the air over and over, as usual, doing his best thinking at the same time, according to him. Jacob and Morgan were challenging each other with online search games, part of their job. Chip, the president and CEO, might be in his office or playing Ping-Pong in the company rec room.

No one asked why she was leaving early. Staff came and went at their own hours, for the most part. It only mattered that the work got done and that the only arguments between coworkers were about creative differences.

Becca couldn’t remember the last time she’d walked home when the street was this noisy with traffic and crowded with people. What she needed was a moment of calm. Maybe the man would be late and she could catch her breath first….

Although it wouldn’t bode well for him if he wasn’t on time for their first meeting, she thought.

She rushed into the lobby of her shiny, modern high-rise, then took the stairs to the fourth floor. When she turned the corner of her hallway she saw a man leaning against the wall next to her door, his hands in his pockets.

Her heart skipped a beat. She’d heard the expression for years but hadn’t known how it felt. Her heart did skip, then it pounded once, a loud, powerful thump to jump-start itself. He was gorgeous—tall and lean, with streaked blond hair, long enough to curl against his neck.

And green eyes, she noted when she reached him, direct and intelligent. Straight white teeth.

She’d hit the jackpot.

“Gavin Callahan?” she asked, finding her voice.

“Yes. Rebecca Sheridan?” He smiled as he said it, looking into her eyes as if she were the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

“Everyone calls me Becca. I apologize for keeping you waiting,” she said, extending her hand, not even startled at the sizzle of electricity when their skin touched. She’d known it would happen.

Just as she knew he was going to be trouble, too.

“I was early,” he said, releasing her hand, which continued to tingle.

“Please come in.” She unlocked her door and preceded him into the space that was even more disastrous than she’d remembered. “I’m sorry about the mess. I got home around midnight from a week in Chicago.” Which accounted for her suitcase and a few other items, but not the piles of magazines, folders and other paperwork that had accumulated on most surfaces.

“I need help, obviously,” she said, smiling apologetically. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Water’s fine, thanks.”

“I have iced tea, if you’d like.” She opened her refrigerator and looked inside. She’d shopped before going to work this morning. “I picked up some cheese and crackers. Will you join me? I’m starving.” And stalling. Explaining what she wanted him to do wasn’t easy. In fact, it was downright embarrassing.

“Um, sure.” He came up to the bar separating the kitchen from the combination dining and living room. The counter was piled with paperwork. Around the room were a lot of moving boxes, taped shut.

“Did you just move in?” he asked.

“Five months ago,” she said, unwrapping the cheese plate. “I don’t have much spare time. I’m gone more than I’m home, and it’s not unusual for me to work twelve-hour days.”

“Julia didn’t tell me anything about you. What kind of work do you do?” he asked.

“I’m vice president of operations and business development at Umbrella Masters, Inc. It’s a computer cloud company.”

“I have no idea what that means.”

She had to explain what the business was so often, she’d memorized a response, which she recited as she poured two glasses of iced tea. “It’s internet-based computing where our customers don’t have to own the physical infrastructure but can rent usage from a third-party provider. Through the cloud, as it’s called, the customer can use or borrow someone else’s network when they need it rather than buy it themselves. It saves the customers time, money and resources in a big way. It’s a business still in its infancy, but it’s creating serious revenue waves.”

“Do you like it?”

“I love it.” I’m just exhausted all the time. “I’m one of the founders, so the rewards of building some thing from the bottom up have been huge and satisfying.”

“What’d you do on your trip to Chicago?”

She spread some crackers on a plate, setting it on the counter. “Negotiated a contract with a new vendor.”

“Successfully?” He carried the two plates as she took the glasses into the living room to put on the coffee table then sat down on the couch.

“Yes, very successful. Oh! I forgot the grapes.” She started to stand.

“I’ll get them. If you don’t mind?”

“No, that’s fine. Thanks. They need to be washed.” Although she was hungry enough to eat the whole plate of food, she waited for him.

“How do you celebrate a success like that?” he asked from the kitchen, the water running, his voice suddenly seeming far away.

“Maybe with a vacation.” She nestled into the cushions a little and yawned. If she could only close her eyes for just a minute. Just a minute…. “I haven’t gone anywhere in years because we were building the business. I’ve been dreaming about Hawaii….”

Gavin carried the grapes into the living room then noticed her eyes were closed.

He set down the plate. When she didn’t budge, he inched closer. Asleep. She had to be completely worn-out to fall asleep in front of a stranger. He’d been that tired many times in his life. Too many. He resisted the temptation to move her shiny brown hair away from her face, where it had fallen.

Now what?

He carried the plate to the kitchen counter, moved some of her papers to the floor and then snacked a little, feeling like an intruder. After a while he put the remainder in the refrigerator. His hands shoved into his pockets, he looked for a way to pass the time, but for all the stacks of reading material, everything seemed to be about business and computers, subjects that generally started him yawning.

He took out his cell phone and played Flight Control for a while but found he was too distracted by her to concentrate. She’d tucked her arms close to her slender body, as if chilled. He wondered if she needed a blanket over her.

Keeping an eye and ear open, he peeked hesitantly into the first doorway and discovered a bedroom, but it was crammed with boxes. The second door led to the master bedroom, which wasn’t messy at all but lacked furniture. Without unmaking her bed, he didn’t see a blanket, not even a decorative throw. He could go on a hunt, he supposed, but figured she wouldn’t appreciate that.

Framed photographs drew him closer to her dresser. The largest frame held a picture of a couple in their wedding finery from years ago—her parents? There was a small candid shot of a maybe five-year-old Becca with the woman from the wedding photo, both wearing matching dresses. There was a newer shot of Becca seated in a red Ferrari convertible, waving both hands high in the air. Hers? Unlikely, given the cost of the car. Several other photos caught his eye, but he didn’t take the time to look too closely, not wanting to get caught prying.

From all appearances, she seemed to be a successful woman accustomed to life’s comforts, including a loving family. So, why the lie? Obviously she was exhausted, frazzled and disorganized—not endearing traits, at least for him. He liked women who had their act together.

And women who were honest.

She lived on easy street, and now she wanted someone to help her out of a jam she’d gotten herself into. By lying.

He wished he could just leave, but he waited her out. In the end, he needn’t have worried about getting caught peeking. She slept for more than an hour, until the colorful sunset sky was framed by her floor-to-ceiling living-room windows, the view tempting enough to lure him onto the outdoor balcony.

But just then her eyes snapped open. She shoved herself upright, her dark brown gaze homing in on him, looking confused.

“Hungry?” he asked, not waiting for her answer, knowing she was embarrassed. He brought the plate to the coffee table. “I already ate,” he said, setting down an iced tea, as well.

He watched her stare at the food, saw the flush in her cheeks fade as her discomfort eased, then he told her the decision he’d made while she slept.

“I can’t take the job. Good luck to you.”

He went straight to the door.

Chapter Two

“Wait! Please wait.” Feeling gut punched, Becca jumped up to stop him. They hadn’t even had a conversation about the particulars of the job itself, and he was turning it down?

“We haven’t talked yet,” she said.

“I know enough. I can see why you think you need a personal assistant or something,” he said. “But that’s not why you went to At Your Service, is it? I can’t play the part of a doting husband when I’m not. I’m sorry.”

The speed of his departure caught her off guard, as well as his judgmental tone. “You’re here. You could at least hear me out.”

After a moment, he said, “You’re right. I should hear you out. It won’t make me change my mind, Becca, but the floor’s yours.”

He sat at one end of the sofa like a sculpture of the world’s most perfect male, his arm stretched along the back, ankle crossed over one knee.

She should be figuring out what to say to him to change his mind, but instead she wondered how bad her hair looked. She’d had it cut to chin length recently, a style she thought would save her time, but which had ended up taking extra minutes to fix every morning.

Needing to pull herself together before saying anything more, she said, “Would you mind waiting a few minutes?”

A few beats passed, then he nodded, although he looked as if he wanted to sigh.