Husband By The Hour

Her question caught him off guard. Normally she just rolled her eyes and kept on walking.

“I like how you keep your desk organized. All those piles are always tidy.”

She shook her head. “Just as I thought. You’re nothing more than a schoolboy defying authority.”

Before she could leave, he placed his hand on her forearm. Her uniform had short sleeves, and he could feel the warmth of her skin and the slight tremor that rippled through her.

“It’s more than that, Hannah.” He leaned close and, with his free hand, touched his index finger to the corner of her mouth. “I like how your lips always turn up a little, even when you’re mad. Like now.”

She stepped back and pulled her arm free of his touch. “I’m not mad, I’m impatient.”

“Impatient?” He raised an eyebrow. “I like that. Impatient. Could a little of that impatience be because you’re tempted?”

“Oh, grow up,” she said and headed toward the parking lot.

“I’ve been a man a long time, Hannah Pace. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed, because I’ve caught you looking.”

That made her stumble. She spun toward him. “I’ve never looked.”

He moved closer and lowered his voice. “Sure you have. Lots of times. You think I’m a good-looking charmer.”

“I think you’re a thief and a swindler and Lord knows what else.”

He stared down at her flashing dark eyes. “I knew you’d been thinking about me.”

“Damn,” she muttered, then drew in a long breath. “How do you always win?”

“Because you think I’m teasing, but I’m telling the truth.”

Amazingly enough, he was. He meant every word he said to her. He did think she was beautiful and funny and smart and all the other lines he’d spoken over the past year. Hannah would never believe him, which made them safe to say. Sometimes, though, he wondered what the cool, self-contained lady would think if she knew his attraction was surprisingly genuine.

She blinked at him uncomprehendingly. He took advantage of her confusion and placed his arm around her shoulders again. “The thing is,” he told her, “you’ve never given me a chance. I’m not nearly as bad as you think I am. Or maybe I am and that’s what tempts you the most One drink. What would it hurt?”

As he spoke, he led her toward his midnight blue Mercedes convertible. It was one of the perks of his assignment. Of course, a flashy car wasn’t going to be much good to him if he ended up dead. A couple more weeks and the job would be finished. Then he could go back to his regular life and Nick Archer would be no more.

He paused in front of the passenger side and pulled out his keys from his pants pocket.

Hannah stared at the car. “Is it stolen?”

“If I say no, will you say yes?”

“Is it?”

He grinned. “I’ve got the title in the glove box. Want to check it out?”

He opened the door and motioned to the pale gray leather seat. He fully expected Hannah to slap him across the face, call him several obscene names and stalk back to her sensible sedan parked on the other side of the lot. He even stiffened in anticipation of the blow.

The blow came in a completely different form.

Shock. Mind-numbing shock when she muttered, “I’m insane,” and slipped inside his car.

Nick carefully closed the passenger door and swore under his breath. Just his luck. The ice queen decided to thaw the day he had to get out of town.

* * *

Hannah touched her tongue to the rim of her glass and let the salt dissolve in her mouth. With a quick prayer that she wouldn’t choke—or worse—she picked up the shot of tequila sitting next to her margarita glass and downed it in one long, burning swallow.

Fire ripped through her. She gasped out loud but didn’t cough, then blinked back the tears that sprang to her eyes. Better, she thought, relieved as the fire turned to an almost comfortable heat.

“You all right?” Nick asked, frowning faintly.

“Fine,” she managed to reply, her voice only slightly raspy from the alcohol.

He leaned back against the red booth seat “You win this round, Hannah. I never guessed you did shooters.”

She shrugged as if to say there was a lot about her he didn’t know. Actually, he didn’t know anything about her, but he had been right about the shooters. She’d never had one before tonight And probably wouldn’t again, she reflected as a wave of alcohol rushed to her brain and made the room tilt slightly. Normally she limited herself to a single drink. White wine, or maybe a spritzer. If it was a special occasion, she might indulge in a glass of champagne. Not today. She was on her second margarita and had ordered extra shots with both.

What was the phrase? Dutch courage? She needed her share of that, plus as much as she could get from any other source that offered it If she did what she was thinking, it was going to take every ounce of bravery she’d ever had. If she didn’t, she was going to break an old woman’s heart Talk about being between a rock and a hard place. Sometimes life wasn’t fair.

The cocktail waitress strolled by. “Can I get you two something else?”

She asked the question of both of them, but her attention clearly focused on Nick. Hannah couldn’t blame the woman. She often had trouble noticing anyone else when he was around. It was as if the whole world was dark and Nick was the only light The fact that the waitress noticed, too, only meant the other woman had good taste.

Hannah resisted the urge to drop her head to her hands and moan. She was more drunk than she realized if she’d started thinking positive things about Nick Archer. He was nothing more than a common criminal. Oh, he hadn’t been arrested for anything…at least, none of the charges had stuck. He had a clean record. But she knew the type. He was smooth. Too smooth for someone like her.

“Hannah?” Nick motioned to her half-empty glass.

She waved him off and he dismissed the waitress. The busty blonde gave him a quick smile. Funny, he didn’t seem to notice.

“But she’s beautiful,” Hannah blurted out, then covered her mouth too late to hold in the words.

Nick frowned. That was twice in as many minutes. She liked how his eyebrows drew so close together. His forehead got all wrinkly, then when he relaxed, it smoothed out again.

“Who’s beautiful?” he asked.

She’d almost forgotten her statement, so it took her a second to figure out what he was asking. “The waitress.”

He didn’t even look over toward the bar to find the woman in question. “If you say so.”

“You didn’t think she was pretty?”

“I didn’t notice.”

“Sure.”

Boy, next he would be telling her about some oceanfront property he had in Arizona. All he needed was the Big One to push California into the ocean. Only California wouldn’t fall into the ocean during an earthquake. The tectonic plates were pushing north. Eventually, Los Angeles and San Francisco would be within commuting distance. It would only take a couple million years to accomplish.

“I liked geography,” she said. “So you can keep your oceanfront property.”