His 24-Hour Wife

Bracing himself, he reached over and threaded his fingers through hers. “Like this?”

“Just like that,” she said, her expression professional. But there was a small catch in her voice. “And we should talk about our jobs, and things that married people would know about each other.”

Talking. Far preferable to more touching. Holding hands and talking. He could do that.

He rolled his shoulders back, trying to relieve some of the tension that had taken up residence there. “What do you want to know?”

While they ate their meal, she asked questions about his company and he answered. The entire time, he was pretending to be a man unaffected by the woman he was pretending to be in love with. And it was so far from the truth it was laughable—pretending not to be affected was taking so much of his attention he was lucky he didn’t stab himself in the eye with his fork.

“This is going well,” Summer said, taking another sushi roll. “Adam, how about you feed her something?”

Erotic images of feeding his new wife strawberries in his Vegas hotel room flooded his mind, and he froze. He’d had so much to drink that day that he shouldn’t recall it clearly, but he did. He thumped his chest once with his fist to get his lungs working again.

Suddenly, he realized he hadn’t replied, and his face probably had a weird expression. He coughed to try to cover it. Summer and Callie, however, had noticed, and each raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry,” he said. “This is just awkward.”

While Callie looked down at her plate, Summer regarded him with a quizzical expression. “You’ve never held hands with a woman or fed her food? That’s all this is.”

“If I was involved with a woman,” he assured her, “these things would definitely happen, but organically.”

Callie drew in a shallow breath and met his gaze, and he was certain she was remembering the same moments he was. When she’d laughed and flirted with him at the conference cocktail party. When he’d rested a hand on hers at the bar. When they’d kissed and his world had tilted. When they’d only just made it back to his room before tearing each other’s clothes off. When they’d shared more champagne in the bed and accidentally spilled some on their bodies...

The air felt thick with the memories, and Callie’s eyes darkened. Most of the blood in his body headed south, but Adam refused to let himself get carried away. He flicked a glance at her sister, who was watching the interplay from across the table, and sighed. This situation wasn’t about what he wanted in this moment. It wasn’t about fun or entertainment—they were practicing so the world thought they were in love, and he had a responsibility to play his part. He would do that and do it well.

He locked down every physical reaction to the woman beside him, every stray thought or memory. Then he found a fake smile and gave it all the enthusiasm he had, and fed Callie a spoonful of his rice.

She gave him the same overly bright smile back and opened her mouth to receive the fork.

“That’s better,” Summer said. “Though, Callie, can you put your fingers around his wrist to hold it steady?”

Callie complied and Adam refused to react to the warmth of her hand encircling his wrist. To the scent of her skin as she leaned in. To the effect on his body of seeing her lush mouth opening.

“Great,” Summer said. “Now look into each other’s eyes.”

Holding his expression in place, Adam focused on Callie’s silver-blue eyes, and thought about the pile of paperwork waiting for him on his desk. Spreadsheets and graphs. Anything to ensure he didn’t let himself get caught up in a moment that wasn’t real.

Callie looked back at him as she gripped his wrist a little too tightly and ate the food from his fork.

Summer sighed. “That wasn’t believable. How about we clear these plates away and try a few poses in the living room?”

Callie winced. It was a small movement, and if he hadn’t been this close and focusing on her face, he might have missed it. He turned his wrist so he could grab her hand and gave it a slight squeeze, offering reassurance. As he realized what he was doing, he felt like laughing. He’d never had trouble attracting women in the past—hell, he’d even attracted this very woman in the past—yet here he was, offering reassurance because she was going to have to spend a few minutes touching him.

After the table was cleared, they moved into the living room and Callie’s sister spent ten minutes arranging them in various poses. It was awkward and he’d pretty much rather be having a root canal than be arranged like puppets by someone he’d just met. Worse was that he was still fighting the simmering desire for his fellow puppet.

Finally, Summer said, “Hang on. Let me show you something.” She grabbed a digital camera and hooked it to a laptop, then took a few photos of Adam with an arm around Callie’s waist. “Have a look at these.”

Adam moved to the laptop screen and saw the image. He looked stiff and unnatural, and Callie looked almost pained.

“That’s not good enough,” he admitted.

Callie bit down on her bottom lip. “We’re going to have to try harder.” She spun away from the laptop and the evidence of their awkwardness, and took in the room. “What if we put on some music? Maybe we could dance. That would give us something to actually do so we didn’t feel self-conscious.”

“Good idea,” he said. In one sense the closeness of dancing could be dangerous, but if he and Callie took back control of the situation he also might be able to regain control of his body. It was worth a try.

Summer headed for the sound system in the corner, and seconds later, a modern day crooner’s voice filled the room. Adam held out a hand to Callie. “Shall we?”

She smiled at the formality of his offer and took his proffered hand. “We shall.”

Her palm was smooth and warm; the friction of her skin sliding over his set off a depth charge down deep in his belly.

He guided her to an open space between the living room and the entryway that had polished wood floors and less obtrusive lighting. Then he pulled her into his arms and led them in a simple dance step. With the music filling the air, it felt more natural than the poses they’d been trying.

“You were right,” he murmured. “I do feel more comfortable.”

“Me, too,” she said. “Is it okay with you if I move a little closer?”

He chuckled. “We’re supposed to be in love. I think you’re allowed to get as close as you want without asking permission.”

She stepped in and leaned her head on his shoulder. She felt good there. Felt right. As if his body remembered their intimacy. He took his hand from her waist and wrapped it around her, securing her against him, and she let out a contented sigh.

He imagined leaning down, finding her lips and losing himself in her kiss. Then taking her by the hand down the hall to her bedroom...

Except they had an audience.

And they were pretending.

This wasn’t real. He couldn’t let himself be lulled into falling for the very story they were spinning for the press. He released Callie and stepped back.

“I, er,” he said, and then cleared his throat. “That seemed to go better.”

Callie nodded. “I was less self-conscious. What did you think, Summer?”

Summer held up her camera and pointed to the laptop. “Excellent. Once you two started dancing, it was totally believable. Just remember how you did it when photographers ask you to pose.”

“Sure,” Callie said, her voice a little husky. “We’ll pretend we’re dancing.”

Adam rubbed two fingers across his forehead as he contemplated having to repeat this. “Will do,” he said, throwing a glance at the door. He needed some space to clear his head. And to rein in his body. “Look, I should head home. Thanks for your help, Summer.” He stuck out his hand, and Summer shook it. Then he turned to Callie. “Callie, let me know when you have an interview set up and I’ll clear my schedule.”

“I’ll get on it first thing in the morning.”

He nodded. After the dance they’d shared, it seemed ridiculous to offer her the same handshake as her sister, but then again, they weren’t actually dating. He settled on the same greeting he gave his brothers’ fiancées and kissed her cheek.

Then he left the apartment. Quickly. Because the stupid part of his brain had told him to kiss her again. And this time, not on the cheek.

Once he was safely inside the elevator with the doors closed, he thumped his head back on the wall and swore. Next time, he’d have better control over his reactions to Callie Mitchell. Next time, it would simply be like two actors in a scene.

Next time...

He groaned and thumped his head against the wall again as he realized this was only the beginning.

* * *

Two days later, Callie found herself with a journalist, walking through the Hawke Brothers’ flower markets. She was wearing a pale gold dress and kitten heels, her hair and makeup photo-ready.

Adam was striding a few steps ahead with the photographer, who wore ripped jeans and a faded T-shirt. Adam, in contrast, was in a tuxedo, parting the crowd like Moses at the Red Sea. No one walked the way Adam Hawke did—powerfully, and always with a purpose. The jacket fit his shoulders perfectly, highlighting their breadth and strength. It was mesmerizing.

“You sure lucked out in husbands,” Anna Wilson said as she walked in step beside Callie. Anna was the first journalist she’d called when looking for a place to launch the story. She was already a friend, and she had a reputation for writing good, solid stories on famous people that neither simpered over the subject nor made snarky digs.

“Yep, Lady Luck was kind to me that night.” Memories of twisted white sheets and Adam’s naked physique rolled through her mind, causing her mouth to suddenly go dry.

“Maybe I should try Vegas,” Anna said. “If I’m going to try my luck anywhere, then surely luck’s hometown will work as well for me as it did for you.”

A stab of unease hit Callie squarely in the belly. Luck hadn’t smiled on her in Vegas. It had given her a night in heaven, sure, but the price had been high. Spending this time with Adam now might just drive her insane.

“You’re not wearing rings,” Anna said suddenly.

“Rings?” Callie repeated.

“You know,” Anna teased, “those little bands we traditionally exchange when we get engaged and married.”

Callie frowned, surprised at herself for missing this detail. When they’d originally exchanged vows, they’d paid for cheap rings that had come from a tray kept under the counter at the chapel. She and Adam had both taken them off the next morning. Hers was in her makeup case where she’d tucked it after sobering up, and she assumed Adam had thrown his away.

“We’re getting new rings for the new ceremony,” she said, thinking on her feet. “It’s symbolic of us starting fresh.”

Anna smiled dreamily. “I love that idea.”

Adam stopped in front of a large flower stall with shelves covered in buckets of bright blooms in every color. He said a few words to the photographer, and then turned to Callie. “How about we take some of the photos here?”

She surveyed the scene. The backdrop would provide color and evoke happiness, and the light was good. “This would be great,” she said, moving to take Adam’s hand.

He leaned in and placed a lingering kiss on her lips, and her pulse went into overdrive. It wasn’t difficult to find the blissed-out expression that she was supposed to be faking—in fact, she knew it was on her face, whether she wanted it there or not.

Anna glanced around and conferred with Ralph, the photographer, and then said, “This is good. How about we start with you replaying that kiss for us?”

Callie glanced up at Adam and he looked for all the world as if he could think of nothing better than kissing her again. He clearly had the acting thing down pat. Of course, he probably did still desire her—chemistry as strong as what they’d shared wouldn’t likely disappear overnight, but she was well aware he didn’t want to give in to it again. And one thing she’d learned about Adam Hawke in the short time she’d known him was that he had iron willpower.

“It would be my pleasure,” he said, and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her against him as he lowered his head. This time it was no peck on the lips, it was more. So much more. Tempting, sensual and knowing. It was everything. She slid her hands along his wrists, past his elbows to grip his biceps through his shirt, partly to keep him in place and partly to hold herself up.

He trailed his lips to the corner of her mouth and then across to her ear. Whispering her name, he sent a shiver across her skin and bit gently on her earlobe. She turned her face, searching for and finding his kiss, feeling as if she’d found her home, as well.

They eased apart and Callie held on to his arms for an extra beat, her knees too wobbly to hold herself upright, her mind too dazed to think clearly.

“Adam,” she whispered, and in response a lazy smile spread across his face.

“That’s great,” Ralph said. “Just hang on a sec while I adjust some settings.”

Surprised out of the little world she’d been in with Adam, Callie took a step back. She hadn’t given one thought to acting during that kiss or its aftermath. She’d forgotten the photographer was there. Forgotten the rest of the world. In that moment, she couldn’t look at Adam. Didn’t want to know if he was looking down on her with pity for getting carried away, or if he was looking at something else, disinterested in her now that they’d performed for the camera. And if he was as off-kilter as she was? Well, some things were better not to know.

To give herself something to do, she turned to take in the picturesque markets around her, the beautiful displays of flowers of all kinds, all colors, and waited for her breathing to return to normal.

As she turned farther, she felt her dress catch on a bucket of lilies near her feet. Not wanting to hurt the flowers, she picked up her knee-length skirt and took a step back.

“Hang on,” Adam said, looking at her hemline. “You have pollen on your skirt.”

Callie sighed. Pollen was almost impossible to get out of fabric, and this was a good dress. She went to rub her thumb over it, but Adam held up a hand. “Wait. Rubbing it will only make it worse.”

He kneeled down in front of her and took the skirt from her hands, inspecting the stain. Then he retrieved something from his pocket.

“What’s that?” She tilted her head to try and see around him to what he held.

Holding it up for her to see, he gave her a quick smile. “Sticky tape. I always carry a roll when I walk through the markets.”

“Just normal, everyday tape?” she asked, skeptical about what he was doing, but prepared to give him the benefit of the doubt.

He nodded. “Best thing for it.”

She watched as he ripped off a small strip and carefully laid it across the pollen before peeling it off. There was something strangely like a fairy tale about standing amongst the flowers in a pale gold dress with a handsome man on bended knee before her. The fact that he was doing something as practical as helping with her with a pollen mishap, instead of declaring undying love and offering her his kingdom, only made it all the more perfect. Adam Hawke stole her breath no matter what he was doing.

He stood and held the tape out to her. “All gone.”

His voice was low and the sound wouldn’t have reached the ears of those around them, which made the moment feel intimate despite the topic.

She laughed softly, unable to help herself—it just all seemed surreal. “I can’t believe you just did that.”

“You learn a lot of tricks when you grow up around flowers.” His green gaze was smoldering, out of proportion to a discussion about flowers and pollen, but then again, whenever he was near, she felt her reactions were out of proportion, too.

She moistened her lips, and his gaze tracked the movement. The idea of losing herself in his kiss again pulled at her, drew her with a powerful intensity, but she wouldn’t forget the photographer again. She angled her head to where the others stood, watching them, and Adam gave her an almost imperceptible nod.

He straightened his spine, took her hand and turned to Ralph and Anna. “If we go a bit farther down this way, we can get some shots with the Midnight Lily in the background.”

Since the Midnight Lily had been developed by Liam and launched less than twelve months ago, it had become one of Hawke’s Blooms’ signature flowers. And that fact served to remind Callie that this was business to Adam—this session with the photographer and this entire plan. And that included the kiss they’d just shared.

She’d been in danger of being swept away in a moment that wasn’t even real.

She couldn’t afford for that to happen again. It would be too easy to fall in love with Adam Hawke, especially if she let herself believe he had feelings for her. That way led to heartache a thousand times worse than what she’d experienced when he wanted to call off their short-lived marriage. They were both just playing the roles they’d agreed to when they’d devised the plan.

Now all she had to do was make sure that she didn’t fall for her own lies.

Four

Callie was just out of the shower when she heard her sister call out.

“It’s gone live,” Summer was saying from two rooms over.

“The interview?” Anticipation quickened her movements as she dried off, put on her silk robe and headed for the living room.

“Yep. I didn’t expect they’d run it for a few more days yet.”

Callie stood behind her sister and peeked over her shoulder at the laptop screen. All the breath left her body as she saw the page. She and Adam had never had a photo taken of themselves together before—their relationship was hardly significant enough to warrant that—and they’d never shared a bathroom to get ready to go out and caught sight of themselves side by side in the mirror, so she hadn’t seen an image of them as a couple reflected back at her. She’d failed to realize the startling effect it would have on her.

There were a few shots of her with Adam among the flowers, but the biggest photo, the one taking up about half the page, was Adam kneeling at her feet, the hem of her dress in his hand.

“That photo is great,” Summer said, pointing to the same one Callie was looking at. “The composition is genius. Was that arrangement the photographer’s idea or yours?”

“Ours,” Callie said faintly, still trying to take it all in.

“Good work. And your expression is perfect. You look totally smitten. All that practice paid off.”

Callie couldn’t reply; she just kept staring at the photo. Because her sister was right—the woman in that photo looked completely smitten by the man in front of her. And the scary part was she hadn’t been pretending. Neither of them had known their picture was being taken.

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