Hired by Her Husband

He didn’t ask. He knew Sophy didn’t love him, but she didn’t hate him, either.

Once he’d even thought they actually stood a chance of making their marriage work, that she might have really come to love him.

“What happened?” she asked him now. “The nurse said you got hit saving a child.”

He was surprised she’d asked. But then he realized she might want to know why they’d tracked her down and dragged her here. It didn’t have anything to do with caring about him.

“Jeremy,” George confirmed. “He’s four. He lives down the street from me. I was walking home from work and he came running down the sidewalk to show me his new soccer ball. He dropped it so he could dribble it, but then as he got closer he kicked it harder—at me. But it—” he dragged in a harsh breath “—went into the street.”

Sophy sucked in a breath.

“There was a delivery truck coming…”

Sophy went very white. “Dear God. He’s not…?”

George shook his head, then instantly wished he hadn’t. “He’s okay. Bruised. Scraped up. But—”

“But not dead.” Sophy said it aloud. Firmly, as if to make it more believable. She seemed to breathe again, relief evident on her face. “Thank God.” And her gaze lifted as if she was in prayer.

“Yes.”

Then she lowered her gaze and looked at him. “Thank George.”

There was a sudden flatness in her tone, and George heard an unwelcome edge of finality, of inevitability. Almost of bitterness.

His teeth came together. “What? Did you want me to let him run in front of a truck?”

“Of course not!” Sophy’s eyes flashed. A deep flush of color rushed into her pale cheeks. “How could you say such a thing? I was just…recognizing what you’d done.”

“Sure you were.” He gave her a hard look, an expectant look, waiting for her to say the words that hung between them.

She wet her lips. “You saved him.”

He almost expected it to be an accusation. She had certainly made it sound that way when she’d flung the words at him the day she’d said she didn’t want to be married anymore.

“That’s what you were doing when you married me,” she’d cried bitterly. “You married me to save me!”

He had, of course. But that wasn’t the only reason. Not that she would believe it. He hadn’t replied then. He didn’t reply now. Sophy would think what she wanted.

George stared back at her stonily, dared her to make something of it.

But whatever anger she felt seemed to go out of her. She just looked at him with those wide deep green eyes for a long moment, and then she added quietly, “You are a hero.”

George snorted. “Hardly. Jeremy wouldn’t have been out there running down the street at all if he hadn’t seen me coming.”

“What? You’re saying it’s your fault?” She stared at him in disbelief.

“I’m just saying he was waiting for me.” He shrugged. “We kick the ball around together sometimes.”

“You know him well, then? He’s a friend?” Sophy sounded surprised, as if she considered it unlikely.

“We’re friends.” Jeremy with his dark hair and bright eyes had made him think about Lily. He didn’t say that, though.

Sophy’s brows lifted slightly, as if the notion that he knew who his neighbors were surprised her as well. Maybe it should. He hadn’t known any of their neighbors during the few months they’d been together.

But he hadn’t had time, had he? He’d been too busy finishing up the government project he was working on and trying to figure out how to be a husband and then, only weeks later, a father. The first had been time-consuming, but at least in his comfort zone.

Marriage and fatherhood had been completely virgin territory. He hadn’t had a clue.

Now Sophy said, “I was surprised you were back in New York.” It wasn’t a question, but he assumed that she meant it as one.

“For the past two years.”

“Uppsala didn’t appeal?”

Ah, right. Uppsala. That was where she thought he’d gone—the job he had supposedly been up for—at the University of Uppsala in Sweden.

He couldn’t have told her differently then. He hadn’t been permitted to talk about it. And there was no point in talking about it now.

“It was a two-year appointment,” he said.

That much was the truth. And though he could have continued to work on government projects, he hadn’t wanted to. He’d agreed to the earlier one before he’d ever expected to be marrying anyone. And if things had worked out between him and Sophy, he would have bowed out and never gone to Europe at all.

When their marriage crumbled, he went, grateful not to have to stay in the city, grateful to be able to put an ocean between him and the reason for his pain.

But after two years, he’d come home, back to New York though he’d had several good offers elsewhere. “This one at Columbia is tenure track,” he told her.

Not that tenure had been a factor. He’d taken the job because it appealed to him. It was research work he wanted to do, eager graduate students to mentor, a freshman class to inspire and a classload he could handle.

It had nothing to do with the fact that when he took it he’d thought Sophy and Lily were still living in the city. Nothing.

Sophy nodded. “Ah.”

“When did you leave?” he asked. At her raised brows, he said, “I did drop by. You were gone.”

“I went to California. Not long after you left,” she said. “I started a business with my cousin.”

“So I heard. My mother said she talked to you at Christo’s wedding.”

“Yes.” Then she added politely, “It was nice to see your parents again.”

George, who knew exactly what she thought of his father, said drily, “I’ll bet.”

He’d been invited to Christo’s wedding, too. He hadn’t gone because he had had no clue who his cousin Christo was marrying and no interest in flying across the country to find out. To discover later that Christo’s bride was a second cousin of Sophy’s blew his mind. He wondered what would have happened if he’d gone to the wedding, if they’d run into each other there.

Probably nothing, he thought heavily. There were times and places when things could happen. It had been the wrong time before. And now? Now it was simply too late.

Yet even knowing it, he couldn’t help saying, “What about your business? My mother said it’s called Rent-a-Bride?”

“Rent-a-Wife,” Sophy corrected. “We do things for people that they need a second person to cope with. Things wives traditionally do. Pick up dry cleaning, arrange dinner parties, ferry the kids to dental appointments and soccer games, take the dog to the vet.”

“And people pay for that?”

“They do. Very well, in fact.” She met his gaze defiantly. “I’m doing fine.”

Without you.

She didn’t have to say the words for him to hear them. “Ah. Well, good for you.”

Their gazes locked, hers more of a glare than a gaze. Then abruptly she looked away, shifted in her chair and tried to stifle a yawn. Watching her, George realized she must have had to fly all night to get here from California.

“Did you sleep?”

She bit off the yawn. “Some.” But her gaze flicked away fast enough that he knew it for the lie it was. And he felt guilty for her having been called for no reason.

“Look,” he said roughly, “I’m sorry they bothered you. I’m sorry you felt you had to drop everything and fly clear across the country to sign papers. It wasn’t necessary.”

“The doctor said it was.”

“My fault. I should have updated the contact information.”

“To whom?” Her question was as quick as it was surprising. And was she actually interested in his answer?

George shrugged. “My folks. My sister, Tallie. She and Elias and the kids live in Brooklyn.”

“Oh. Right. Of course.” Sophy shifted in the chair, sat up straighter. “I just wondered. I thought—” But she stopped, not telling him whatever it was she’d thought, and George didn’t have enough working brain cells to try to guess. “Never mind.”

“I’ll get it changed as soon as I get out of here,” he promised.

“No problem.” Sophy’s easy acceptance was unexpected. At his blink of astonishment, she shrugged. “You were there for me. It’s my turn.”

He frowned. “So this is payback?”

She spread her hands. “It’s the best I can do.”

“You don’t need to do anything!”

“Apparently not,” she said in a mild nonconfrontational tone that reminded him of a mother humoring a fractious child.

George set his teeth. He didn’t want to be humored and he damned well didn’t want Sophy patronizing him.

“Fine. It’s payback. So consider your debt paid,” he said gruffly. He’d had enough. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get some rest. And,” he went on for good measure, “as you can see, I’m conscious and I can sign my own papers now. So thank you for coming, but I can take care of things myself. You don’t need to hang around taking care of me. You can go.”

As the words left his mouth he knew he heard the echo of almost the exact words she had thrown at him nearly four years ago: I don’t need you! I’m not a mess you need to clean up. I can take care of myself. I don’t need you doing it for me. So get out of here! Leave me alone. Just go!

And from the expression on her face, Sophy knew it, too. She looked as if he’d slapped her.

“Of course,” she said stiffly and stood up, pulling her jacket off the back of the chair and putting it on.

George watched her every move. He didn’t want to. But, as usual, he couldn’t look away. From the first moment he’d seen her on his cousin Ari’s arm at a family wedding, Sophy had always had the power to draw his gaze.

She didn’t seem to notice. Something else that hadn’t changed. She zipped up her jacket and picked up her tote from the floor by the chair. Then she stood looking down at him, her expression unreadable.

George made sure his was, too. “Thank you for coming,” he said evenly. “I’m sorry you were inconvenienced.”

She inclined her head. “I’m glad you’re recovering.”

All very polite. They looked at each other in silence. For three seconds. Five. George didn’t know how long. It wasn’t going to be enough. It never would be.

He couldn’t help memorizing her even as he told himself it was a stupid thing to do. And not the first, he reminded himself grimly, where Sophy was concerned.

She gave him one last faint smile and turned away.

Her name was out of his mouth before she reached the door. “Sophy.”

She stilled, glanced back, one brow lifting quizzically.

He’d thought he could leave it at that. That he could simply let her go. But he had to ask. “How’s Lily?”

For a moment he thought she wouldn’t answer. But then the smile he hadn’t seen yet suddenly appeared on her face like the sun from behind a bank of thunderheads. Her expression softened. And she was no longer supremely self-contained, keeping him determinedly outside the castle walls. “Lily’s fine. Amazing. Bright. Funny. So smart. We had her birthday party yesterday. She’s—”

“Four.” George finished the sentence before she could. He knew exactly how old she was. Remembered every minute of the day she was born. Remembered holding her in his arms. Remembered how the mantle of responsibility felt on his shoulders—unexpected, scary, yet absolutely right.

Sophy blinked. “You remembered?”

“Of course.”

She swallowed. “Would you…like to see a picture of her?”

Would he? George nodded almost jerkily. Sophy didn’t seem to notice. She was already opening her purse and taking out her wallet. She fished out a photo and came back across the room to hand it to him.

George took one look at the child in the photo and felt his throat close.

God, she was beautiful. He’d seen some snapshots that his mother had given him from the wedding so he had an idea of what Lily was like. But this photo really captured her.

She was sitting on a beach, a bucket of sand on her lap, her face tipped back as she laughed up at whoever had taken the photo. It was like seeing a miniature Sophy, except for the hair. Lily’s was dark and wavy and, in this photo, wind-tossed. But her eyes were Sophy’s eyes—the same shape, the same color. “British sports car green,” he’d once called them. And her mouth wore a little girl’s version of the delighted, sparkling grin that, like Sophy’s, would make the world a brighter place. Her fingers were clutching the sides of the sand pail, and George remembered how her much tinier fingers had clutched his as she’d stared up at him in cross-eyed solemnity whenever he held her.

He blinked rapidly, his throat aching as he swallowed hard. When he was sure he could do it without sounding rusty, he lifted his gaze and said, “She’s very like you.”

Sophy nodded. “People say that,” she agreed. “Except her hair. She has y—Ari’s hair.”

Ari’s hair. Because Lily was Ari’s daughter. Not his.

For all that George had once dared to hope, like her mother Lily had never been his.

They both belonged to Ari—always had—no matter that his cousin had been dead since before Lily’s birth. Some things, George found, hurt more than the pounding in his head. He ran his tongue over his lips. “She looks happy.”

“She is.” Sophy’s voice was firm and confident now. “She’s a happy well-adjusted little girl. She’s actually pretty easygoing most of the time. Once she got over the three-month mark, she stopped having colic and settled down. I managed,” she added, as if it needed saying.

He supposed she thought it did. She’d had something to prove when she’d told him to get out. And she’d obviously proved it.

Now he took a breath. “I’m glad to hear it.” George took one last look at the picture then held it out to her.

“You can have it,” she said. “I can print another one. If you want it,” she added a second later, as if he might not.

“Thanks. Yes, I’d like it.” He studied it again for a long moment before turning slowly in an attempt to set it on the table next to the bed.

Sophy reached out and took it from him, standing it up against his water pitcher so he could see it if he turned his head. “There.” She stepped back again. “She can…watch over you.” As soon as she said the words, she ducked her head, as if she shouldn’t have. “You should get some rest.”

“We’ll see.”

“No ‘we’ll see.’ You should,” she said firmly.

He didn’t reply, and she seemed to realize that was something else she shouldn’t have said, that she had no right to tell him what he should or shouldn’t do. “Sorry,” she said briskly. “None of my business.” She turned toward the door again. “Goodbye.”

He almost called her back a second time. But it would simply prolong the awkwardness between them. And when you got right down it, there was nothing else.

It had been kind of her to have come—even if it was simply “payback” on her part. Still, it was more than he would have expected.

No, that was unfair.

She might not love him, but she was tenderhearted. Sophy would do the right thing for anyone she perceived to be in need—even the man she resented more than anyone on earth.

He didn’t need her, he reminded himself. He’d lived without her for nearly four years. He could live without her for the rest of his life. All he had to do was end things now as he should have done four years ago.

“Sophy!”

This time she was beyond the door and when she turned, she looked back with something akin to impatience in her gaze. “What?”

He made it clear—to both of them. “Don’t worry. It will never happen again. As soon as I get out of here, I’ll file for divorce.”

Chapter Two

OF COURSE GEORGE would get a divorce.

The only surprise as far as Sophy was concerned, was that he hadn’t got one already. But even accepting the fact, Sophy felt her knees wobble as she walked away from George’s room.

She moved automatically, going to fetch her duffel, which one of the nurses had allowed her to leave in a storage area near the nurses’ station. But when she got there, her hands were shaking so much that she nearly brought down a load of paper supplies while trying to pull the duffel’s handle out.

“Here. Let me help you.” The nurse who had let her put it there in the first place took the duffel’s handle, slid it out and pulled it easily out of the storage space. She tipped it toward Sophy, then looked at her closely. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, sure. Fine. Just…tired.” Something of an understatement. “It’s all right,” Sophy murmured. “I’m fine. Truly.” She did her best visibly to pull herself together so the nurse could see she was telling the truth. She shoved her hair away from her face and tried to smile. “I just need some sleep.”

“Of course you do. It’s been a bit traumatic. You go home now and get some sleep. Don’t worry.” She patted Sophy’s arm. “We’ll take care of your husband.”

Sophy opened her mouth to correct the nurse, but what could she say? And why? Even though she wouldn’t let herself think of George that way, it was impossible to lie to herself, impossible to say that walking into his hospital room had left her unaffected.

The very moment she’d laid eyes on him this morning, the years since she’d seen him fell away as if they’d never existed.

And even worse was the realization that, however desperately she might wish it, she wasn’t over him at all.

When she’d walked into the hospital room to see George lying there, his head bandaged, his arm in a sling, his whisker-shadowed jaw bruised, his normally tanned face unnaturally pale, she felt gutted—exactly the same way she’d felt seeing her daughter fall off the jungle gym at her preschool.

The sight of Lily slipping and tumbling, then lying motionless on the ground, had shattered Sophy’s world. That same sickening breathlessness had hit her again at the sight of George in his hospital bed.

The difference was that Lilly, having landed on wood chips that cushioned her fall, had only had the wind knocked out of her. Seconds later, she’d bounced up again none the worse for wear.

But George hadn’t moved.

It was early when she’d arrived, straight from the airport, still stiff and groggy from a sleepless night on the plane. He should have been asleep. But it looked like such an unnatural sleep. And Sophy had stopped dead in the doorway, clutching the doorjamb as she stood watching him never flutter so much as an eyelash. She had been too far away to see the rise and fall of his chest.

She must have looked stricken because the nurse had said, “Watch the monitor.” Its squiggly line was moving up and down jerkily. But at least it proved he was breathing because absolutely nothing else did.

“You can wake him if you want,” this same nurse had said.

But Sophy had shaken her head. If George wasn’t dead yet, the sight of her first thing when he opened his eyes might very well do it for him.

“No. Let him sleep,” she said in a voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll just wait.”

“If he’s not awake in an hour, I’ll be back. We have to wake him regularly to see how he responds and if he remembers everything.”

No doubt about his memory, Sophy thought grimly now.

She turned to the nurse. “He thinks he’s going to leave today, to go to work. The doctor wouldn’t really let him…”

The nurse smiled. “I don’t think you need to worry about that. They’ll be watching him today and probably tomorrow. You should go home now and get some rest. Come back this afternoon. Chances are he’ll be much brighter by then.” She gave Sophy one more encouraging smile, then checked her beeper and hurried down the hall.

Sophy stood there with her overnight bag and her briefcase and realized she didn’t have a home to go to.

Home was three thousand miles away.

On the other hand, why shouldn’t she go home? What was keeping her here? George had clearly dismissed her. As far as he was concerned, she needn’t have bothered to come in the first place.

And she certainly wasn’t going to come back this afternoon. She’d done her duty. “Payback,” he’d called it.

And he’d rejected it. Consider it paid, he’d said.

That was fine with her. Shooting one last glance toward his room, she turned and wheeled her overnight bag down the hall to the elevator and pressed the button and waited, trying to keep her eyes open and stifle a yawn.

She was in the midst of the latter when the elevator door opened. There were several people in it, but only one, a young, dark-haired, very pregnant woman, swept out, then stopped dead and stared at her.

“Sophy?”

Sophy blinked, startled. “Tallie?”

“Oh, my God, it is you!” And before Sophy could do more than close her gaping mouth, George’s sister, Tallie, swept her into a fierce delighted hug. “You’ve come back!”

“Well, I—” But whatever protest she might have made was muffled by the enthusiastic warmth of Tallie’s embrace. And Sophy couldn’t do much more than hug her back. It was no hardship in any case. She’d always adored George’s sister. Losing the right to count Tallie as her sister-in-law had been one of the real pains of the end of her marriage.

Before she could say anything, a firm thump against her midsection had Sophy jumping back. “Was that the baby?” She looked at Tallie, wide-eyed.

Tallie laughed. “Yes. My girl likes her space.” She rubbed her burgeoning belly affectionately. “This one’s a girl. But more about her later. It’s so good to see you.” She gave Sophy another fierce hug, but was careful to move back before the baby kicked again. “George should get run over by trucks more often.”

“No.” Even for the pleasure of seeing Tallie again, she didn’t want that.

“Well, not really.” Tallie laughed with a shake of her head. “But if it brings you home—” She beamed at Sophy.

“I’m not ‘home,’” Sophy said quickly. “I’m just…here. For the moment. I got a call from the doctor last night. When George was unconscious they needed his next of kin’s permission for any medical procedures, and because we’re not officially divorced—yet—that was me. And so—” she shrugged “—I came.”

“Of course you did,” Tallie said with blithe confidence. “Besides, it’s about time. How is he?” Her smile faded a bit and she looked concerned. “He wouldn’t let me come see him last night.”

“He looks like he’s been hit by a truck,” Sophy said. If Tallie hadn’t seen him yet, Sophy wanted to prepare her. “Seriously. He’s pretty battered. But coherent,” she added when Tallie’s expression turned worried.

“He flat-out refused to let us come last night. Well, there’s only Elias and me around. Mom and Dad are in Santorini. And none of the boys—” her other brothers, Theo, Demetrios and Yiannis, she meant “—are here. So he was safe. He probably wouldn’t have contacted me at all if he hadn’t needed someone to take care of Gunnar.”

“Gunnar?”

“His dog.”

George had a dog? That was a surprise. “Did he rescue it?” Sophy asked.

Tallie frowned. “I don’t think so. I think he got him as a puppy. Why?”

Sophy shook her head. “Never mind. I was just—never mind.” She could hardly say, Because George rescues things. Tallie wouldn’t understand.

George’s sister shoved a strand of hair away from her face. “He said to go to his place and feed Gunnar, put him out and absolutely don’t come to the hospital. He didn’t need me hovering.” She shook her head.

“George is an idiot,” she went on with long-suffering sisterly fondness. “As if I would hover. Well, I will. But at least I waited until this morning. I’ll go annoy him for a few minutes, just to let him know he can’t push me around. And because the rest of the family will fuss and worry if someone hasn’t set eyes on him in the flesh. But now you’ve come, you take the keys.” She dug in the pocket of her maternity pants and thrust a set of keys into Sophy’s hand.

“Me?” Immediately Sophy tried to hand them back. “They’re not mine,” she protested. “I can’t take George’s keys!”

“Why not? Because you and George are separated? Big deal.”