Risky Business

“He tried to catch a flight out, but he couldn’t. It’s along way from South America, you know, and the access is pretty bad. He has to take a flight whenever he can get one.”

Megan rested her chin on her hand. “Wow. It must really be tough to have your husband gone all the time.”

Rachel let out a theatrical sigh. “I do miss him.”

“Easy to see why,” Megan said with a smile. “He’s gorgeous. Well, his picture is, anyway. Are we ever going to get to meet him?”

“Sure. Someday soon. I promise.”

Actually, the real answer to that question was Not in a million years. But Megan didn’t know that. Neither did anyone else at Davidson Design. And they never would.

Megan flicked a lighter and lit the candle on the cupcake. “Go ahead. Make a wish.”

That was easy. Rachel closed her eyes, then blew out the candle.

Megan leaned in close and whispered, “You wished for the promotion, didn’t you?”

Of course she had, but she didn’t particularly like Megan pointing it out.

Ever since her firm had won the bid to design a glitzy new hotel in Reno, she’d been evaluating her chances to become project manager. Her only real competition was Phil Wardman, a man with far less experience and technical ability than she had. But he had something she didn’t. Phil happened to be one of those backslapping, buddy-buddy kind of guys that Walter Davidson just loved. They talked sports, sometimes even played golf together, and more than once Rachel had seen them going out to lunch. Personally all that familiarity made her uncomfortable. After all, what did any of that stuff have to do with a person’s ability to do a job?

Over the next four days at the ski resort, she hoped to tip the scales in her favor, finding subtle ways to suggest to Walter that she really was the best candidate. In the end, she had to trust that any sane person would promote someone with qualifications over someone with schmoozability.

“Actually,” Rachel told Megan, “I wished for my husband to make it home in time to come on the retreat with me.” She sighed again. “But I’m afraid that’s not going to happen.”

“Maybe next time.” Megan punched a button to answer a call, staring pointedly at Rachel. “And then we’d actually get to meet him.”

Rachel smiled indulgently, then, gathering up her shopping bags, the flowers and the cupcake, went into her office. She deposited the bags on the floor and placed the roses on her desk—one dozen American Beauty roses that had cost way more than she ever should have spent. But they were exactly what her sweet, loving husband would have sent her.

Her sweet, loving, imaginary husband.

Rachel sat down in her chair and traced her finger over the wedding ring on her left hand, which contained a stone just big enough to be impressive, but small enough not to be ostentatious. They could do wonders with cubic zirconia these days. Unless somebody pried it off her finger and held it under a jeweler’s loupe, nobody would ever suspect that it wasn’t a real diamond.

And then there was the photograph, the one she and Jack had asked a passerby to take of the two of them on the Riverwalk in San Antonio. She’d had the photo enlarged, framed it and placed it on her credenza. And because she’d created just the right profession for Jack that explained why he was rarely in town, nobody got suspicious as to why they’d never met him.

The ring, the photo, and a flower delivery every once in a while—that was all it had taken for everyone here to believe that she was actually married.

Okay, so it was a little deceptive. But the moment she’d heard of the job opening at Davidson Design six months ago, she’d wanted it desperately. A small firm with a hot reputation—what better place to make her mark? Then she’d gotten word through the grapevine that Walter Davidson had a strong preference for married job candidates, a qualification that was a little difficult to acquire on short notice.

So she’d faked it.

In the end, she’d gotten a job she loved, and Walter Davidson had gotten a talented, dedicated architect, who was going to help him put his small but growing firm on the map. Nobody was hurt. Her plan had worked perfectly.

She sighed. Okay. There was one tiny little glitch. She’d underestimated the way she would feel every time she looked at that photograph.

She turned slowly and stared at it, playing back in her mind the one night she and Jack had spent together. She remembered every moment of it—every kiss, every touch, every whispered word in the dark. He’d made her feel as if she were somebody else entirely—a hot, wanton, reckless woman who never met a sexual position she didn’t like, a woman who would throw modesty and respectability and good behavior to the four winds and engage in a hedonistic sexfest that would have made a Roman emperor blush.

And it had scared the hell out of her.

She remembered with painful clarity how she’d felt when she woke before dawn and realized what she’d done. Fortunately she’d had the good sense to walk out of that hotel and leave temptation behind. Just thinking about that night made her cheeks flush with embarrassment. What kind of woman has wild, breathless sex with a man she doesn’t even know? Repeatedly?

A woman who can’t resist a handsome face and a gorgeous body. A woman who lives in a fantasy world instead of reality. A woman who’s not in complete control of her life.

She’d tried to tell herself that she’d felt some kind of connection with Jack after the day they’d spent together, a meeting of minds and not just bodies. Finally, though, she came to her senses and realized she was just deluding herself. Such self-deception was nothing more than an excuse to justify her outlandish behavior.

What she couldn’t figure out, then, was why she’d spent a good portion of every day since wondering what it might be like to see him again.

She had to stop this. She had her career to think about. The last thing she needed was to get waylaid by thoughts of a man who had undoubtedly put another notch in his bedpost before she’d even left the hotel. And seeing him again was a moot point, anyway. It wasn’t going to happen. He was a thousand miles away in San Antonio. He could be her imaginary husband as long as she needed him to be, and nobody would be any the wiser.

And she would never have to be tempted by him again.

BY TWELVE-THIRTY, JACK HAD checked out four of the five architectural firms and come up empty. He’d found a few women named Rachel, but none that he recalled seeing naked in San Antonio.

The elevator doors opened on the thirty-eighth floor, and Jack stepped out. This was his last chance. If she didn’t work for Davidson Design, he didn’t know where to look next. He took a deep breath, opened the brass-trimmed glass doors and strode to the front desk. The receptionist, a bright, bubbly redhead with short, shaggy hair, held up her finger without glancing at him, asking him to wait as she answered one call after another.

Jack gazed around the room. Typical corporate look, with beige walls, modern art, leather furniture, track lighting. He decided he’d rather die and go to hell than be surrounded by this frigid atmosphere. At least hell would be warm.

And right in the middle of the ice box sat a leather-clad guy, his shirt open almost to his navel, with a neckful of silver chains and a couple of random piercings and tattoos. A boom box sat on the chair next to him. He leaned over and checked out his reflection in the coffee-table glass, patting a stray strand of blond hair back into place. He flipped his wrist and glanced at his watch, then tap, tap, tapped his fingertips against the arm of his chair.

“Hey, lady!” he called out to the receptionist. “I got a schedule to keep!”

The receptionist covered her mouthpiece and responded in a heavy stage whisper. “I told you it’ll be just a minute! Will you keep your shirt on? At least until I tell you to take it off?”

With a disgusted shake of her head that made her short red hair flutter, she tapped a button on her console, then finally turned her gaze up to Jack.

“May I help—”

Her mouth dropped open. She froze in that position, staring at him, her eyes as big and bright as a pair of flashlight beams.

“Dr. Kellerman?”

Doctor?

“I can’t believe it! You made it back!”

Made it back?

“Oh! Oh! You must be here to surprise Rachel!”

“Did you say Rachel?” His heart leaped with hope. “Late twenties, straight dark hair, blue eyes—”

“Well, of course!”

The woman yanked off her headset, tossed it aside and leaped to her feet, scurrying around the desk. “She’s not going to believe this. She’s simply not going to believe it. Oooh! What a wonderful surprise!”

She spun around and pointed to the kid in the waiting area. “You! Never mind! I don’t need you after all!”

The guy leaped to his feet, his silver chains jangling. “Hey! I’ve been waiting here for fifteen minutes, and now you’re telling me—”

“I’ll send you a check!”

Before leather boy could protest further, the receptionist grabbed Jack by the arm and dragged him down a short hall, then stopped suddenly and pushed him up against the wall, her eyes wide with excitement.

“Okay. You stand here. Just wait here until I give you the word, okay?”

“I don’t get this. What are you—”

She put her fingers to her lips and shushed him, then held up her palm. “Just wait here. This is going to be so cool!”

This place was a loony bin. Or, at least, this woman was loony. And he was pretty sure the guy in the waiting room had a screw loose, too. What in the world had he walked into?

The receptionist pushed the door open and strolled into the office, downshifting her voice into a soft, professional tone.

“Excuse me, Rachel. Do you have a moment?”

“I’m really busy, Megan. Can it wait?”

“No, I’m sorry,” Megan said, her voice edged with excitement. “It can’t wait. Your real birthday present is here.”

Jack heard a gasp.

“Oh, no.”

“Oh, yeah. And you’re gonna love it.”

“No, Megan. I’m warning you. The cupcake was plenty. Don’t you dare do something weird. Do you hear me? Don’t you dare—”

Megan’s hand snaked around the doorway, found Jack’s arm, and yanked him into the office. The moment his eyes met Rachel’s, she leaped up out of her chair so suddenly that it rolled backward and smacked against her credenza.

Looking at her up close now, he knew. It was Rachel. No question about it.

Not that he would have recognized her by the clothes she wore. After the weekend they’d spent together, he would have expected to see her in something significantly more daring than the drab wool suit and buttoned-up white silk blouse she had on right now. Something brighter. Slinkier. Cut down to here and up to there. Something bold and carefree. Something that said, Come here, if you dare, instead of Don’t touch me if you value your life.

But there was a part of her she couldn’t hide behind those yards and yards of wool. Her eyes. He’d never forget those eyes as long as he lived, gorgeous ice-blue eyes that had kept him enthralled for hours on end.

But now they seemed to hold another quality. Surprise. No, not just surprise. Something more like…

Panic.

Megan patted Jack’s arm. “I’d have put a big red bow on him, but I was fresh out of ribbon. Happy birthday, Rachel.”

3

RACHEL’S BRAIN WAS TELLING her mouth that it really ought to close itself, but the message simply wasn’t getting through.

Jack Kellerman. Her imaginary husband, in the flesh.

Oh. My. God.

“Hello, Rachel.”

That voice. Rich. Resonant. A voice just made for seduction. Only one of many reasons that she’d been so easily…seduced.

“Your husband!” Megan gushed. “Can you believe it? All of a sudden I looked up, and there he was! He traveled four thousand miles to surprise you on your birthday! Isn’t that just the most romantic thing ever?” She gave Jack an appreciative once-over, then stage-whispered to Rachel. “His picture doesn’t do him justice.”

“Picture?” Jack said.

“The one on her credenza. She stares at it all the time. Now I know why.”

Jack’s gaze flicked over to the photograph. Rachel felt her cheeks flush hotly, an anatomical glitch she’d been cursed with since childhood. Like a pair of internal humiliation indicators, her cheeks became ripe tomatoes whenever she was embarrassed. And Jack noticed it. How could he not? She didn’t remember one single part of her body that had escaped his scrutiny six months ago, and nothing was escaping him now.

Absolutely nothing.

Jack eyed the photo for a moment, then looked back at Rachel. When his brows dipped down with a confused expression and he opened his mouth to speak, she knew he was only a few words away from turning her career into toast.

“Jack!” she said. “I can’t believe you’re here!”

She circled her desk, rushed toward him, threw her arms around his neck and whispered in his ear. “Play along. Please.”

Then she tried to ease away from him, but to her surprise, he pulled her right back up against him, holding her as if he hadn’t seen her in weeks and was making up for lost time.

“I’ve missed you,” he murmured. “Have you missed me?”

She stared at him, wide-eyed. “Uh…of course. You know I have.”

A smile eased across his face. “Aren’t you going to kiss me?”

Kiss him?

Rachel swallowed hard, knowing she had no choice. She gave him a quick peck on the lips, and his face fell into a disappointed frown.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said. “It’s been so long. Surely you can do better than that.”

She inched toward him again, but this time, as her lips approached his, he tucked her head into the crook of his elbow, bent her backward, and showed her exactly what kind of kiss he was talking about.

Rachel’s heart leaped wildly as his mouth fell against hers. Her lips had parted in a tiny gasp, and that small opening was all he needed to ease his tongue into her mouth, twining it sensually with hers. At the same time, he slid his free hand beneath her suit coat and around her waist, splaying his fingers against the small of her back. He held her firmly, possessively, demandingly—kissing her in a way that could bring a dead woman back to life.

And Megan was watching the whole thing.

If Rachel had any inclination to pull away, that stopped her cold. After all, Megan thought Jack was her loving husband, back from a long trip. Wouldn’t she want him to kiss her?

Yes. Of course. She had no other choice. She had to let him kiss her.

And kiss her.

And kiss her.

Aeons seemed to pass before he finally pulled her to her feet and eased his lips away from hers. He gave her a suggestive smile, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Megan’s expression of absolute astonishment.

“Wow,” Megan said, her mouth hanging open. “I mean…wow.”

Rachel eased out of Jack’s grip, feeling as if he’d literally taken her breath away. She gave her suit coat a nervous tug, then smoothed it with her hands, trying to look as nonchalant as possible. Tall order with Jack still looking at her as if he was only one moment away from clearing the top of her desk with a sweep of his arm, then hurling her down on top of it and having his way with her.

“Megan,” Rachel said, “I’d like to be alone with Jack for a few minutes. If you’ll excuse us?”

“Well, of course,” Megan said. Then she leaned in and said quietly, “Hey, if you want to lock your door for a little while, I’ll just tell everyone you’re in a meeting.”

“Not that kind of alone!”

“I don’t know,” Jack said. “Sounds like a pretty good idea to me.”

Every word he uttered in that gorgeous, hot-as-sin voice made all kinds of provocative images fill Rachel’s mind. She remembered lying in the darkness of that historic San Antonio hotel room, listening to Jack whisper a litany of sex talk that had set her on fire. What he wanted to do to her. What he wanted her to do to him. What they were going to do to each other. All night long. And right now, if she hadn’t been terrified of the massive lie she was getting ready to be caught in, she’d have melted right into the carpet.

“We want to talk,” she told Megan.

“Gotcha,” Megan said. “Have fun…talking.”

She gave them a little wave of her fingertips and a great big smile, then eased out the door. Rachel spun around to face Jack.

“What in the hell are you doing here?”

He folded his arms over his chest, those green eyes sparkling like crazy. “Well, from what I can tell, it appears I’m here to wish you a happy birthday.”

“You have to leave. Now!”

“Are you kidding? I just traveled four thousand miles to be with you on your birthday.”

She closed her eyes, willing herself to remain calm. “How did you find me?”

“Sheer accident. I’m here in Denver on business, and who do I see getting into a cab? The woman who walked out on me six months ago without so much as a goodbye.”

No. This couldn’t be happening. No.

“And now, for some reason,” Jack went on, “your receptionist seems to think I’m somebody else. She’s got the Kellerman right.” He raised his eyebrows. “But there’s this little matter of my being your…husband?”

Rachel squeezed her eyes closed. “Please, Jack. Will you just go?”

“No. I don’t think so. Not just yet.”

He looked at the photograph on her credenza again, then strode over to the flower arrangement on her desk. Before she could stop him, he picked up the card. Rachel buried her face in her hands.

“To my darling Rachel,” he read aloud. “Sorry I can’t be with you on your special day. I’m counting the minutes until we can be together again. Your loving husband, Jack.” He turned back to her with a smile of pure delight. “Damn, I’m romantic. Didn’t know I had it in me.”

“Just put it back, will you?”

He returned the card to its place, then turned and leaned against her desk. “Okay. Suppose you tell me what’s going on here.”

“Just leave. That’s all I want you to do.”

“Oh, no. If you’re going to pass me off as your husband, I’ve got a right to know why.”

She waved her hand dismissively. “It was just a harmless little…ruse. That’s all.”

“Ruse?” he said. “Lie, you mean.”

“No! Well, yes. I mean—” She exhaled sharply. “It was for my job, okay?”

“Go on.”

She put her hand to her forehead for a moment, then met his eyes again. “When I applied for it, I found out the big boss, Walter Davidson, prefers his employees to be married. Stability, and all that. So I…well, I guess I gave him what he wanted.”

“A married job candidate.”

Rachel sighed. “Yes.”

“And you obviously got the job.”

“Yes.”

“So now you’re a married woman.”

“As far as what everyone around here thinks, yes.”

He nodded down at her hand. “Nice ring.”

She slipped her hand behind her back. “It’s cubic zirconia.”

He winced. “Couldn’t you have sprung for the real thing? I don’t want people thinking I’m cheap.”

“They’re not thinking anything about you! You don’t exist!”

He looked down at himself. “I look pretty real to me.”

“You know what I mean!”

“And what’s with the ‘doctor’ thing, anyway?”

Rachel buried her face in her hands again. Oh, God. Did she have to tell him this?

“It’s why you’re gone all the time,” she said. “See, you…you fly to South America…”

“Yes?”

She thought she’d been so smart when she came up with this, but now she could barely say the words. She spoke quickly, mumbling so maybe he could hear only half the words. The ones that didn’t sound stupid.

“You’re an independently wealthy doctor who flies to poor South American countries on humanitarian missions.”

His eyebrows flew up, and then a grin spread across his face. “You’re kidding, right?”

She shot him a look of total disgust.

“Wow. I’m spontaneous, romantic, rich and charitable. No wonder you married me.”

“Will you stop it?”

He eyed her carefully. “Why me?”

She turned away. “The picture was handy.”

“Is that the only reason?”

“What other reason would there be?”

He gave her a cocky grin. “I’m unforgettable?”

Rachel shot him a look of disgust. Oh, he was so arrogant. And so conceited.

And so right.

Why had it been Jack’s picture? So she could look at him every day of her life? So she could remember what that night of fantasy had been like before she’d had to wake up to reality?

“I’m sorry I did this,” she said. “Believe me, I am. But you can’t tell anyone.” She looked at him warily. “You’re not going to tell anyone, are you?”

“If anybody asks, I’m Dr. Jack Kellerman, wealthy philanthropist. Your husband.” He eased closer, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Assuming, of course, that the job comes with conjugal rights.”

Rachel gasped. “You think just because I told a little fib, it entitles you to—”

“No entitlement,” he said. “I’m thinking of it more as…a perk.”

Just as she was on the verge of going totally ballistic, the door to her office swung open. She spun around, expecting to tell Megan one more time to please leave them alone. Instead Walter Davidson walked into her office.

Rachel felt as if her stomach had dropped right out of her body and plummeted thirty-eight floors. No, no, no!

Walter, a balding man in his late fifties with a big, booming voice, zeroed in on Jack and strode across the room toward him with his hand extended.

“Rachel! Megan told me you had a visitor! So this is your husband?”

This was it. Her life was over.

But to her surprise, Jack didn’t even look flustered. He met the man halfway with a broad grin and shook his hand.

“Dr. Kellerman,” Walter said, pumping Jack’s hand up and down. “It’s so good to finally meet you.”

“Call me Jack.”

“Jack it is. And you call me Walter. Rachel here seems to have been a little reluctant to share you with us. I’m glad you finally dropped by. Are you planning on staying in the country for a while?”

“Yes,” Jack said. “For quite a while, actually.”

“Good. That means you can join us on the retreat.”

Rachel bit back a gasp.

“Retreat?” Jack said.

“Rachel didn’t tell you? I’m taking all the employees on a ski trip to The Summit in Silver Springs tomorrow morning. Four days. Rest and relaxation. Of course, spouses are invited.”

“Why, Rachel,” Jack said, “you didn’t tell me anything about a retreat.”

Rachel just about choked. “I—I didn’t think you’d be back in town. You…surprised me, you know.”

“Yes. I suppose I did.”

“I’d love to have you join us,” Walter said.

“He can’t!” Rachel said.

Walter recoiled with surprise.

“It’s just that…well, it’s just that I know how tired he usually is after his trips out of the country,” she said, stammering like an idiot. “I know he’d probably just like to stay at home. Rest. You know.”

“Rachel’s right,” Jack said. “She knows me so well. Whenever I come home from one of my trips, all I want to do is zone out. Relax. Take it easy.”

Rachel breathed a sigh of relief.

“Which means that a trip to a ski resort would be exactly what I need. I’d love to go.”

Rachel thought her heart was going to stop. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t be. It was as if she was paying right now for every lie she’d ever told in her life. God had saved up and hit her with her punishment all at once, and boy, was it a doozy.

“Excellent!” Walter exclaimed. “I’m interested in hearing all about your work. That is, between ski runs. You do ski, don’t you?”

“Of course.”

“Glad to have you joining us. I know there are a lot of people who will be interested in meeting Rachel’s husband. You’ve been somewhat of a mystery man around this office.”