The Fake Husband

“I beg your pardon?” Her voice was as stiff as his mother’s starched tablecloths.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean that for you. I spilled a drink.” He blotted the wet spot with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. “I didn’t expect to hear from you again. Ever.”

“I know. But…I’ve thought about it, and I think we should meet. Dinner will be okay, if you’re free. Friday night?”

Rhys eased back into his chair. “Why does it sound as if you’re facing the guillotine?”

“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about. Does seven work for you? At the Starting Gate?”

“I assume that’s a restaurant. You’ll have to give me directions.”

She did so in a hurried, distracted voice that told him she couldn’t wait to get out of the conversation, and Rhys didn’t push her. Whatever was wrong, he had a feeling she would offer the explanation Friday night. If she didn’t offer, then he would push.

HE ARRIVED EARLY at the restaurant just for the pleasure of watching her come toward him across the room, and the experience didn’t disappoint him. She wore her hair loose, glinting like strands of soft, rosy gold draped across her deep blue sweater. In dark pants and boots, her walk wasn’t a feminine sway but the strong, direct stride of a strong woman. Rhys shifted in his chair, thinking he really was too old to be turned on by a woman’s looks.

But then, this wasn’t just any woman.

He stood as she reached the table and went around to pull out her chair. “Hello, again. I’m glad to see you.” She took her seat without answering, or even meeting his gaze.

The waiter appeared at his elbow. “Drinks, sir? Or wine?”

With a tilt of his hand, Rhys deferred the question to Jacquie. She shook her head. “Could I have some coffee? I got chilled on the way here,” she explained, when the waiter had left. “I’d really like to warm up.”

“Your fingers do look frozen.” Rhys reached out to touch her, just a stroke of his fingertips, and was startled when she jerked her hands off the table, into her lap. His patience, which stretched much further for horses than humans, suddenly snapped.

“I think we need to cut to the chase.” Folding his arms along the edge of the table, he leaned closer and held her gaze by sheer force of will. “I’m not sure what’s going on, but I am sure I’m tired of playing games. Why are we here, Jacquie? What do you have to say to me?”

The waiter, with impeccable timing, returned at that moment with their coffee. And then wanted to take their orders, which required consulting the menu. But with all those details taken care of, tension still bracketed the table, isolating them from the other diners.

“Well?” He took hold of his coffee mug with both hands. “I’m waiting.”

Jacquie’s eyes widened, as they had on her first day at his barn in New York when she’d arrived at the riding ring two minutes after the scheduled lesson time. For a second, Rhys relived his own immediate attraction to the girl with the sunny green gaze, which made him even more brusque. “Come on, Jacquie. You were never one to avoid a fence.”

“You’re right.” Her voice was steadier now. “Although this one’s been a long time coming.” She drew a deep breath. “You asked me why I left without saying anything.”

“Yes.”

“You came to my room that night, in New York, to tell me your…wife…had returned. She was pregnant, you said, and the man she had been living with didn’t want your baby.”

Hearing her relate the memory brought all the anguish rushing back. “I remember.”

When he didn’t say anything else, Jacquie continued. “I was hurt, of course, that you’d chosen your wife over me. And furious that you’d slept with her so recently before we…” She picked up her coffee and took a sip. “But I knew your decision was the right one, and I couldn’t stay to make the situation more difficult.”

“Where did you go?”

“Oklahoma. I got a job as a nanny for a family with horses, so I taught lessons, as well.”

“And you met this Archer and married him?”

She stared at him for a long time, her lips pressed together. “I…no. There is no husband. I invented him because I couldn’t come home as an unwed mother with an illegitimate child.”

Setting down her coffee, Jacquie looked him straight in the eyes. “Your child, Rhys. My daughter, Erin Elizabeth Archer, is also yours. The only proof you’ll need is a single glance at her beautiful face.”

His breath left him, just as it had after his fall from Imperator. He could only manage a whisper. “Say it again.”

“We were going to have a child together. I was pregnant.”

“Dear God.” She was a virgin, their first time together. He didn’t have to wonder if there’d been others.

Their waiter, timely as ever, brought a dinner that neither of them touched. Rhys pushed his plate away first. “You could have written, or called. I would have helped.”

Jacquie stared for a second at the green bean on the end of her fork, then returned it to the plate. “I didn’t want to hear you suggest an abortion.”

“I wouldn’t do that.” He hoped he wouldn’t have done that. But he had been an arrogant young man.

“And I didn’t want to be bought off with your family’s money.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“If your parents had gotten wind of my condition, they would’ve done whatever they thought would protect their precious son. They might have tried to take my baby away altogether.”

Her bitterness ran deep, with justification. His parents had not treated her with respect. “They aren’t bad people.”

“Just people with money who are used to getting their own way.” She didn’t smile, made no effort to take the sting out of the comment.

“So you handled the situation, you supported yourself and your daughter without help.” He took a perverse satisfaction from her wince. “What’s the point of telling me now?”

He’d forgotten—or had he ever known?—that Jacquie possessed a temper, too. “Don’t be stupid.

You’re here, in our backyard. We live and work in the same world—horses. And Erin looks just like you. There’s no way this secret is going to keep. I’m concerned about how to protect my little girl against being hurt.”

Rhys shrugged, pretending not to care. “You could run away again.” But Jacquie’s stare made him ashamed. “Sorry. You’ve had fourteen years to adjust to this whole mess. Give me at least fourteen minutes.”

As the waiter bustled over their uneaten food, a different face flashed in front of Rhys’s eyes. When they were alone again, he looked at Jacquie. “Andrew. Do you think they’ll see the resemblance?”

She nodded. “One of their classmates already has. It’s only a matter of time.”

They declined the waiter’s offer of dessert but accepted a refill on coffee. Rhys gave him a credit card without looking at the bill, just to make the man go away. “So they have to be told, as soon as possible.”

“No. Absolutely not.” Her eyes had hardened, and her fist hit the table. “That’s what I wanted to be sure you understand. No one is to know. Absolutely no one.”

“You just said—”

“She looks like you. And there are thousands of guys all over the world making money because they look like Elvis. If we don’t give people around here a reason to believe there’s a connection, there won’t be one. So you have to promise me you won’t say a single word about this to anybody, ever.

“But—”

“And I want you to stay as far away from me and my daughter as you possibly can.”