His Pretend Wife

“Oh.”

Abby had no idea how she was going to explain her erratic behavior to her family. In addition to her parents, she had three brothers. Drew would understand. He wasn’t exactly known for his caution. In fact, his impulsiveness had gotten him into trouble a time or two. However, claiming a relationship to an unconscious man would be considered extreme even by Drew’s standards.

There was simply no explanation for her rash decision to embark on a rescue mission that included masquerading as Jack’s wife. After the nurse left, Abby sipped mock champagne from the paper cup, wondering if she was losing her mind.

The midnight hour came.

A flurry of hushed well-wishers out in the hallway announced its arrival. Only a few patients were well enough to join the staff in the subdued celebration.

How odd to start a new year in this place. With Jack Slade. Abby stared at his sleeping face. It wasn’t a soft face, his life experiences had left their mark. He was only twenty-seven but his youth had been spent in harsh places.

Now he had some new bruises, a cut over his left eye. Luckily, it wasn’t deep enough to need stitches and wouldn’t leave a scar to mar his ruggedly handsome features.

However, some scars remained on the inside, hidden from view, but they were there. Jack probably had a collection of them. Of course, he’d never share them with Abby. They were little more than strangers really. She wondered why that knowledge should hurt.

No doubt he would be furious when he learned she’d claimed to be his wife. It was only temporary. Abby silenced an irrational pang of regret. Then, out of some deep well of emotion buried deep within, she reached over and gently kissed him. There was no response.

In fairy tales, all it took was one chaste kiss to turn a frog into a prince. With a sad whimsical smile, Abby acknowledged that fanciful transformation wasn’t likely to happen in this case.

Nevertheless, she pressed her lips to his a second time and whispered, “Happy New Year, Jack.”

Chapter Three

Jack woke in a small, dark hospital room. There was a window, but the blinds were closed. He had no idea if it was night or day. He squinted into the dim reaches of the room crammed with medical equipment. A machine monitored vital signs in little beeps and blips. Other sounds were muffled. How long had he been unconscious?

Hours?

Days?

His mouth felt thick and fuzzy. When he tried to move, he discovered his left arm was in a cast. His right hand was hooked up to an intravenous tube, dripping colorless fluids into a vein. His ribs hurt, but at least it no longer felt as if each breath would be his last.

He tried to lift his head, then groaned. It felt as if an elephant was sitting on it! He remembered someone saying he had a mild concussion. It didn’t feel mild.

Okay, enough whining—he could deal with a headache, and a few additional bumps and bruises. He’d survived a lot worse. In fact, he was damn lucky to be alive. Then, he remembered.

His leg!

His gaze flew to the bottom of the bed. Yes, his left leg was there. Encased in a hip-to-toe white plaster cast, it was still attached at the hip. He’d only dreamed it was gone. At the sight of it, he released a harsh breath. They’d saved his leg.

So, Abby had kept her promise.

Imagine that.

Throughout the nightmarish experience, he’d felt her presence every step of the way. He should be grateful for her help—and he was—but that was it. He’d be a fool to care about Miss Abigail. There, he’d put her in her rightful place—far above him—a firm reminder that she was way out of his league.

That decided, he looked around the empty room.

So, where the hell was she now?

Jack turned expectantly at the sound of the door opening, but to his disappointment, it was only a nurse.

Her rubber-soled shoes squished on the tiled floor as she approached the bed. He read the name on her tag—she didn’t look like a Tammy. More like Attila the Hun.

“I see you’re finally awake.” She moved around the bed as she checked various gauges on the equipment. “Anesthesia affects some people that way.”

Jack got dizzy trying to follow her. Wishing she’d stand still, he ran his tongue over his lips, then tried to find his voice. “How long have I been here?”

“You were admitted three days ago.” While he digested that piece of information, she added, “Does anything hurt?”

Everything hurt, but that wasn’t the worst of it.

“I can’t feel my leg,” he said, rawly stating his deepest fear. He could plainly see it. He just couldn’t feel it!

Tammy gave him a long sympathetic look. “The tests show the spinal column is intact, but there’s some bruising and swelling.”

Okay, that explained it, he supposed. His spine had been crushed—he remembered someone mentioning that. “So, how long before I get some feeling back?”

While he waited for a straight answer, she busily fluffed up his pillow, tucked in a sheet. “These things take time.”

Things?

What things? They were talking about his leg. He couldn’t go through life without it.

She asked, “Is there anything else?”

Apparently, he wasn’t going to get any more information out of her. So, he settled for something more immediate. “I could use some water. My mouth feels as if I swallowed a bucket of sand.”

“I’ll get some ice chips. Your wife should be right back. She’ll be so pleased to see you’re awake.”

His wife?

That caught his undivided attention.

“My what?” Jack’s voice betrayed his amazement.

When, how and where—not to mention why—had he acquired a wife? He didn’t get another word out before the nurse stuck a plastic thermometer in his mouth.

“Abby’s a lovely girl.”

“Mmm,” Jack mouthed around the thermometer in agreement. He couldn’t argue as a mental image of Abigail Pierce invaded his thoughts. Tall and slender, she was calm and reserved, naturally elegant with her long dark hair and pale skin.

There was a polished refinement about her that screamed don’t touch me. It wasn’t packaged or faked. And every time Jack saw her, he wanted to mess up that perfection, shatter the image, take her hair down. And touch her.

As if on cue, Abigail arrived.

She stopped in the doorway, her eyes widening at the sight of him. Her hazel eyes were rimmed in gold and reflected every mood. “Jack!” She looked shocked.

For crying out loud, who had she expected to find?