Bride On Loan

Sabrina felt tears sting her eyelids.

“Hey, I’m teasing,” Cassie said hastily. “In the first place, you obviously didn’t do it on purpose.”

“He thinks I did.”

“Sabrina, a man who’s in pain always looks for someone to blame.”

The paramedics elevated the gurney in preparation for rolling it out to the ambulance, and the crowd shifted and moved back to give them room.

Sabrina’s conscience nagged till she caught Jake’s eye and offered reluctantly, “Should I come along? Since I know exactly what happened—”

Caleb raised a hand in a commanding gesture. “Don’t you dare let her, Jake. If that woman gets into the ambulance, I’ll walk to the hospital.”

Sabrina felt like sticking her tongue out at him, but there wasn’t much point; he wasn’t in a position to see because the gurney was already rolling toward the door.

A small boy who was standing nearby, wearing a super-hero costume, said, “Where’s the blood? Isn’t there going to be blood?” Disappointment dripped from his voice.

The door opened, and a whoosh of cold air surrounded Sabrina. Wearily, she forced herself to stand. The chilly granite had left her feeling stiff and sore, and for a moment she wondered if she should have let the paramedics look her over.

From the doorway came a feminine shriek. Only half-curious, Sabrina turned to look.

A princess in long, flowing robes and a faux medieval headdress was blocking the door, hands pressed to her mouth, staring at Caleb in horror. “What happened, darling?”

His tone was dismissive. “Just an accident, Angelique. Nothing for you to have hysterics over.”

“Figures,” Sabrina muttered. “For her, he’s brave and manly. A couple of minutes ago you’d have thought he was barely hanging on to life.”

“There’s no need for you to miss your party, Angelique,” Caleb said.

“The party? Darling, surely you don’t think I could possibly stay here and have fun while you’re in agony!”

Beside Sabrina, Cassie muttered, “She will if she knows what’s good for her.”

The princess seized Caleb’s hand as if she was daring anyone to remove her from his side. The gurney started to roll again, and she walked alongside.

“I don’t need to be fussed over,” Caleb was saying as the door closed behind them.

“Whew,” Cassie said. “My guess is that will be the final straw. Angelique’s time as bimbo of the week has just expired. Of course, it may take her a while to realize it, but—”

Sabrina frowned. “How do you know that?”

“Didn’t you see the way he looked at her when he said she didn’t need to have hysterics?”

“Yeah, I saw. It looked pretty mild compared to the way he’d been looking at me. It’s my opinion you’re suffering from wishful thinking, Cassie. Just because you don’t like Angelique…” Sabrina sighed. “And I thought the biggest problem I was going to face tonight was having to apologize to Paige for baiting Eileen about your bridal shower gift.”

Cassie opened her mouth, then obviously thought better of the question. “Let’s get the party started,” she said instead. “What’s first? Bobbing for apples?”

Sabrina looked at the house, then at the number scrawled on the square of paper clipped to the convertible’s visor. The address agreed, there was no doubt of that. But had she written it down wrong? The last place she’d have expected the playboy millionaire to live was in a neighborhood that had long since passed its prime.

In the strong morning sunlight, the three-story colonial revival house looked nothing short of dilapidated. Its white paint was alligatored; one faded green shutter hung at a tired angle and another was gone altogether. The railing on the small balcony above the pillared front porch was missing half a dozen balusters, and one of the pair of chimneys looked as if it could benefit from a serious tuck-pointing.

As she looked at the address again, however, a truck pulled into the semicircular driveway and parked directly before the front door. Two uniformed men climbed out, and a moment later they began unloading what looked like a hospital bed.

Yeah, Sabrina told herself. Unlikely as it seemed, she had the right place after all.

She squared her shoulders and gathered up a small, bright-colored shopping bag and a sheaf of fresh fall flowers wrapped in cellophane. Caleb Tanner would probably throw the contents of the bag in her face and use the sharp flower stems to defend himself, she thought gloomily. But she had to make the effort. Whether he was likely to accept her apology wasn’t the point; she still had to offer it.

She followed the bed to the front door and up two steps onto a crumbling concrete porch. The door stood wide open; a small, fussy-looking elderly man was just inside, giving directions to the delivery men.

The bed crossed the wide hallway and stopped while the men debated how to make it fit through a too-narrow door. They tipped it on one side and pushed; a rail scraped the door molding, and the little man held his breath until the delivery men set the bed down and stood back to scratch their heads and consider.

From the doorway on the other side of the hall, opposite the room where the bed was noisily being set up, a familiar feminine voice cooed. “Darling, are you absolutely certain there isn’t anything I can do to make you more comfortable?”

Angelique, Sabrina thought. Cassie had been wrong; the bimbo’s time in the sun obviously hadn’t expired just yet.

Sabrina edged closer and peeked around the corner of the doorway. Beyond it lay a large living room with a high-beamed ceiling, two sets of French doors and a fireplace where a blaze crackled cheerfully. Over the back of a black leather couch, which sat directly in front of the fire, she could see just the top of Caleb’s head.

Next to him, perched on the edge of the couch cushions, was Angelique. “If you’re certain,” she said, and leaned against him for an obviously intimate embrace.

Sabrina drew back into the hallway and debated her next move. Fortunately, the little man was too absorbed in watching the delivery crew to ask what she wanted.

Before Sabrina had made up her mind what to do, Angelique appeared in the doorway. “What are you doing here?” she asked suspiciously, eying Sabrina. “Not that it matters. Mr. Tanner is resting, so you’ll have to go away. Jennings, take the things this woman has brought and see her out. I have an errand to run, but I’ll be back in an hour to see how our invalid is doing.”

Without another word, she paused beside the front door and waited until the little man opened it for her. Head held high, she swept out.

The little man closed the door and turned to Sabrina.

Just as he opened his mouth, the delivery men gave the bed a superhuman push. It went through the doorway, but it left four deep, raw, precisely parallel scratches.

The little man squeaked, almost as if the scratches had been made in his flesh rather than in unfeeling wood, and stormed across the room, chattering almost incoherently.

The instant his back was turned, Sabrina ducked into the living room.

The first impression she’d gotten from her initial glimpse of the room, of size and light and perfect proportions, was modified on closer examination. The room’s pale yellow paint was faded with age, except for spots here and there where artwork had obviously blocked the sunlight for years, and the carpet was almost threadbare.

She walked around the end of the incongruously modern black leather couch. Caleb, wearing a worn navy-blue jogging suit, lay with his right leg propped on a couple of pillows and strapped into a canvas-covered immobilizer, which stretched from mid-thigh to his lower calf. Nearby a pair of aluminum crutches leaned against a small table.

Jake had told her last night when he’d finally returned to the party what to expect. Still, the sight stopped Sabrina in her tracks. Her throat tightened. Very deliberately she looked away from the injured leg and focused on Caleb’s face.

His eyes were closed, and he was a little paler than she’d expected him to be. But of course she was basing her assessment on photographs she’d seen, and she was assuming, because many of those pictures had shown the playboy millionaire in outdoor activities, that he’d sport a perpetual tan. But that wasn’t necessarily so, she told herself, and so his lack of high color didn’t mean he was still in pain from his injury.

“I thought I made it clear—” he said, and opened his eyes.

Sabrina braced herself.

Caleb pulled himself up a little higher. “I suppose you’ve come to assess the damage you did.”

She bit her lip. “I’ve come to tell you I’m sorry for my part in the accident.”

“Your part?” His gaze roved over her. “Well, it’s just as well you showed up—because otherwise I’d have had to come looking for you. Figuratively speaking, of course, since it’s apparent I’m not going to be able to move much beyond this couch for a few days, at least.”

He sounded perfectly matter-of-fact, not in the least vindictive or threatening. And yet there was something about the tone of his voice that sent a trickle of fear oozing through Sabrina’s bones.

“Yes,” he said. Somehow he made the word sound almost triumphant. “You’re just the person I’ve been wanting to talk to.”

CHAPTER TWO

THE pillows supporting Caleb’s knee slid, and the shaft of pain that shot up his leg made him wince and look hopefully at the clock. But there was another hour to wait before he could have the next dose of pain medication, so he swore under his breath, lay back as best he could, took a couple of deep breaths and tried to distract himself by studying the woman who stood beside the sofa.

Under normal conditions, he decided, she could take a man’s mind off almost anything. Of course, these weren’t normal conditions. His knee was a constant reminder that she was not only pleasant to look at but damned dangerous to handle—and that was something he had no intention of forgetting.

He’d noticed her as soon as he’d walked through the front door at Tanner Electronics yesterday, just as he noticed any extraordinarily pretty woman who happened across his field of vision. His optic nerves were hard-wired for that sort of observation, so in the first split second he’d automatically assessed the basics—she was tall and slim, with hair as sleek as black satin and green eyes set at an exotic tilt in a porcelain-fine heart-shaped face.

Then she’d pasted him to the floor, and suddenly he hadn’t been in the mood to study her any further. He already had enough of a mental picture to let him identify her in a police lineup or to avoid her on the street, so what else could he possibly need to know?

But that had been yesterday. Since then, he’d had an unpleasant evening in the emergency room, a long and almost-sleepless night and an almighty frustrating morning. Now here she was again—and it occurred to him that he might be able to put Cat Woman to good use.

Though…it was mighty convenient of her to show up just now. Suspicion flickered through him. Was it possible she had some sort of agenda of her own?

He surveyed her through narrowed eyes and decided that she looked far too ill at ease to be plotting anything. Relieved, he dismissed the idea and settled back, letting his gaze linger on her face.

His initial assessment might have been lightning-fast, but it had been absolutely on target, he concluded without surprise. Where pretty women were concerned, he never missed.

Today the satiny hair was pulled into a subdued knot at the nape of her neck, and instead of the slinky black cat costume she was wearing a soft tweed pantsuit in a color that made him think of the pine forests that lined the foothills of the Rocky Mountains. Neither change did anything to diminish her attractiveness. They simply added an air of efficiency and capability.

Which just went to show, Caleb thought, how very deceptive appearances could be.

“Sit down,” he invited, and waved a hand at a nearby chair.

She set the small shopping bag she carried on the floor near the couch, laid the sheaf of flowers on the coffee table and sank onto the edge of the black leather seat. To watch her, Caleb told himself, one would think she was the most graceful creature on earth.

“I brought you a few magazines,” she said. “I hope they’ll help pass some time.” She seemed to be having trouble making her voice work right. “I understand your knee’s not broken, after all, just sprained.”

“Technically, they called it a strain.” He saw the tiny quiver of relief go through her and added maliciously, “Of course, the doctors tell me a bad strain’s almost worse than a break. It’ll certainly take longer to heal completely, and it’s far more likely to be reinjured in the future if I’m not extremely cautious.”

“Oh.” Her voice was very small.

“Yes. I’m looking forward—if you want to put it that way—to as much as two weeks in this contraption.” He gestured at the immobilizer. “And even after that, I’ll still be on crutches for a while. It will likely be months before I’m back in top form.”

She’d turned white, he noted. Encouraged, he pressed on. “That means I can’t easily go up and down stairs. I can go to work, but only if I install a recliner or a hospital bed in my office to keep my leg elevated. And of course, that’s assuming I can get there—I couldn’t drive a car even if I had one, and I certainly can’t ride my motorcycle.”

“If you’re trying to make me feel bad, Mr. Tanner—”

“Not at all,” he said, not even trying to sound candid. “I’m only telling you the circumstances of my life. The very much changed circumstances.”

“I’ve already said I’m sorry.”

He pretended not to hear. “You know,” he said sadly, “I was scheduled to go skydiving this weekend.”

Her eyes, he noted with interest, looked like turbulent storm clouds when she was angry.

She said, through almost clenched teeth, “Would you knock off the pity party?”

He stared at her and did his best to look wounded. “If you think I don’t have a right to feel sorry for myself, Ms.—”

“Oh, you’ve got a right. I just don’t think that’s what you’re doing at the moment. If you’re hoping to scare me into offering you some sort of settlement—”

“Not a bad idea,” he said thoughtfully.

“For the damage I’ve supposedly done to you—”

“What do you mean, supposedly? This immobilizer isn’t exactly a figment of my imagination.”

“There’s still the question of who’s really at fault, you know.”

“But there’s no doubt at all about who’s been damaged.”

“Nobody made you grab hold of that tank.”

“What? You asked me to lend a hand!”

“I didn’t suggest you pretend to be Hercules. At any rate, I should warn you that I don’t have much in the way of financial resources. So if you are hoping to collect from me, I’m afraid that you’re not going to have much luck.”

Caleb shrugged. “Money I have plenty of. But there are other ways of settling scores, you know. The kind of damages I want to collect, you’ll have no trouble paying.”

Her eyes turned to arctic ice. The effect was almost enough to make him shiver.

“I see,” she said. “Of course, it wouldn’t be the first time a man has leaped to the conclusion that because I’m not exactly hard on the eyes, it would be worth his while to try to manipulate me into bed, but—”

He grinned. “You think sex is what I have in mind? When the moon turns to liverwurst, maybe.”

She colored a little and said in a small, tight voice, “I do apologize. How conceited of me to assume you might find me attractive in that way.”

So the lady had a vulnerable spot, he thought with delight. “That wasn’t what you assumed,” he said easily. “You jumped to the conclusion I’m the kind of guy who wouldn’t hesitate to blackmail a woman for sex whether I found her attractive or not.”

Her gaze dropped to her hands, folded in her lap.

“Not a very flattering picture,” Caleb went on. “But you know, I didn’t say that I don’t find you appealing. It’s just that, having already had a good demonstration of what you’re capable of, I’d have to be a blooming idiot to ask for more. Frankly, my mind boggles at the thought of what you could accomplish if—”

“There’s no need to go into detail, Mr. Tanner. Now, since we’ve established that we’re not discussing going to bed, perhaps you’d like to make clear what you do have in mind?”

He took his time. Letting her stew in suspense might have interesting results. “As I’ve already pointed out, there are a number of things I’m not going to be able to do on my own for the next few weeks.”

“So? I presume that’s why you have what’s his name out there. Jennings—is that it?”

“Jennings is a fine butler in what has up till now been a low-maintenance household.”

He watched her gaze flick around the room. “Are you sure low-maintenance is the word you want?” She sounded honestly curious. “I’d call it neglected, myself.”

“I’m not referring to the house, exactly, but to my needs. Jennings answers the door and the telephone, cooks a bit, supervises the cleaning team, that sort of thing. But I take care of myself.”

“Fancy that.”

He decided to ignore the interruption. “However, now I can’t look after my own needs—and I can’t expect Jennings to pick up the slack. He’s too old to be on call around the clock, but someone will have to be.”

“And you’re expecting me to wait on you?”

“You’ve got it. I’m going to need someone to fetch and carry, hand me my crutches, sort out my pills, plump my pillows, bring fresh ice packs, read to me when I’m restless, go out for ice cream at three in the morning if I can’t sleep….”

“I get the idea,” she said dryly. “I just don’t see why you want me doing all those things.”

“I’d say you’re a natural choice. Jake tells me this is the very sort of thing your business does all the time.”

“Not precisely,” she said coolly. “There’s a reason we called it Rent-A-Wife, not Buy-A-Slave.”

“Look at it this way, Ms…” He shifted, trying without success to get more comfortable. “What is your name?”

“Does it matter? I thought slaves had to answer to whatever their masters called them.” After a moment, though, her gaze wavered and she said softly, “Sabrina Saunders.”

“Sabrina,” he said slowly, making the name almost a caress. “You caused this problem. You’re going to fix it. At least as much as it can be fixed.”

“Look, there are agencies that provide special-duty nurses, and I’m sure you can afford to—”

“I didn’t ask you for nursing services. I do not have a death wish. In fact, there are limits to slavery, too—I don’t expect you to deliver hot soup directly into my hands. Having you set it on a table nearby will be risky enough, in my opinion.”

“You know,” she said slowly, “that’s what I don’t understand. I should think all you’d have to do is raise your voice and there would be a hundred women swarming around you, thrilled to be of service.”

“Exactly.” His voice was crisp.

She frowned. “Then I really don’t understand why you’re putting pressure on me. Why would you want a reluctant helper—one you don’t even trust not to scald you with the first cup of coffee—when you could have enthusiastic ones?”

“Because I don’t even have to raise my voice to attract all those women, that’s why. I don’t know if you ran into Angelique when you arrived?”

She sounded wary. “We spoke, yes. Actually, she spoke to me, but I didn’t exactly answer.”

“She’s been here since the crack of dawn. She’d have spent the night except that all she had to wear was the princess costume.”

“And you didn’t like the idea of having her plump your pillows? I don’t get it.”

“Plumping pillows was not the sort of thing she had in mind.”

“Ah,” she said on a long note of discovery. “I suppose last night you weren’t feeling up to any—how can I put this delicately?—athletic activity. Well, I can see how having a woman like Angelique around in those circumstances might make a man like you very uncomfortable, but—”

“And she’s far from the only one who’s been hovering helpfully. Since the word started to spread last night that I was injured, there have been seventy-two phone calls and nineteen visits from women.”

Sabrina shrugged. “Sounds like masculine heaven to me.”

“Not when I’m flat on my back and unable to defend myself. Every one of those women has ideas of mothering me, nursing me or otherwise convincing me that I simply cannot live without her on a permanent basis. In other words, they’re far more interested in their left ring fingers than in my knee.”

“And you really don’t believe you can defend yourself against that?” She shook her head. “I’m disappointed in you.”

“I don’t choose to spend my energy on that kind of battle. I’d rather focus it on getting back on my feet as soon as possible.”

She’d gone straight on. “And you call yourself a playboy! Besides, you have Jennings out there. All you have to do is tell him to turn off the phone and not let anyone in, and—”

“Oh, really? You got past him without any trouble, didn’t you?”

She sounded a little less certain of herself. “You said you wanted to see me.”

“But you didn’t know that till after you were sitting here. And he doesn’t know it yet. No—Jennings is well-meaning, but he’s not cut out to be a bodyguard.”

He watched the play of expressions cross her face. Now, he thought, they were getting somewhere.

“Face it, Sabrina—since it’s entirely your fault that I’m being subjected to this siege, it’s entirely your responsibility to do something about it.”

She slapped her hands against her thighs and stood up. “You know,” she said, “I think you’re right. Goodbye.”

Caleb blinked in surprise and tried to struggle into a sitting position. “Where do you think you’re going?”

She barely paused. “To the animal rescue league to see if they happen to have a Rottweiler with misogynistic tendencies. I’ll sign the adoption papers, deliver him to Jennings, and your problem will be solved by noon.”

“Sit down, Sabrina.”

“But it’s the perfect—”

His voice was silky. “Let’s talk about this business of yours.”

“Rent-A-Wife? What about it?” She sounded ever so slightly apprehensive.

“Do you and your partners want to continue to work with Tanner Electronics employees?” He saw the flicker of discomfort in her eyes and smoothly pressed his advantage. “Or shall we just call it one of those trial runs that unfortunately didn’t work out?”

She stopped in mid-step. Very slowly, as if she were walking to the guillotine, she returned to her chair and sat down. “When do I start?”

Satisfaction sizzled through Caleb. He hadn’t realized that being on the receiving end of total capitulation could be so enjoyable.

“Right now will be fine,” he said. “But I hope you don’t mind if we don’t shake on the deal, Sabrina. I’m going to need the use of both hands, and I really don’t want to take the chance of you messing one up.”

Sabrina’s fingers moved automatically, arranging the sheaf of flowers she’d brought in a tall glass vase, while she told herself that of course she’d done the only thing she could.

Faced with the threat of Rent-A-Wife losing its newest and single most substantive client, she hadn’t been left with much choice.

In fact, she thought, instead of growling over the idea of spending the foreseeable future waiting on Caleb Tanner hand and foot, she should probably be thanking her lucky stars that a maidservant was all he wanted. How stupid it had been to feel that flash of resentment at the idea that he didn’t find her physically attractive—for even though he’d sidestepped the question, there was no doubt in Sabrina’s mind that if he’d really found her desirable, he wouldn’t have hesitated to act on that feeling.

Her irritation had been almost an automatic reaction, of course—the kind of thing she would probably have felt for an instant no matter who had made the statement. Her momentary fury really had nothing to do with Caleb Tanner.