Husband By The Hour

“Excuse me?”

He looked puzzled. Genuinely flummoxed. Hannah smiled. At least, it felt like she was smiling. It was hard to tell. Her lips were numb. Flummoxed. She repeated the word in her mind. It was a good word with a nice sound. She should try to work it into a sentence more often.

“Hannah?”

She glanced at Nick. He was staring at her. “What?”

“What do you mean ‘what?’ Why are you talking about geography?”

“I’m not.”

“But you said…” He shook his head. “You’re drunk. I can’t believe it. On a margarita and a half. Talk about a lightweight.”

“I had shooters,” she reminded him, then wondered if she should protest his statement that she was drunk. Of course she was. And there was that pesky numb feeling creeping from her lips to her cheeks. “It’s your fault,” she muttered.

“Mine? Why?”

“You’re always there.” She took another sip of her drink. “Talking to me. Asking me out. Why’d you have to do that?”

“Maybe I like you.”

“Oh, sure.” He liked her. Yeah, right. No doubt. Average-looking female police officers were every man’s fantasy. She must get a hundred offers a day.

“You don’t believe me.” It wasn’t a question.

“Why should I?”

His mouth curved into a slow smile. She felt the impact all the way down to her toes. He was sinfully handsome with big eyes the color of midnight blue. Thick lashes, sort of a medium brown and tipped with gold. Gold blond hair, layered and just to the top of his collar. Broad shoulders, great body, at least what she’d been able to see of it under his expensive suits. Despite being a criminal, Nick dressed like a corporate executive. He was funny, although she always tried hard not to laugh at his jokes. He was a smooth talker, charming and way out of her league. She knew better than to believe anything he might try to tell her.

He leaned forward and touched the back of her hand. It was just one finger barely stroking her skin. Her cheeks were completely numb, she couldn’t feel her legs at all, yet that single touch burned through her like a laser through steel.

She told herself to pull away, or at least to slap him real hard. She did nothing but stare at his finger, at his hand, at their hands so close together. Then her chest got tight and she had to remind herself to breathe.

“What’s wrong, Hannah?”

“Nothing.”

“Bull. I know you, and something’s wrong.”

The assurance in his voice made her nervous. She withdrew her hand to her lap and took another sip of the margarita. Then she glanced around the room and tried to see if anyone she knew was in the bar. It wasn’t likely. The cops at the station had their own hangout and it wasn’t this trendy beachfront establishment. She and Nick were in a back corner booth with a view of the ocean to her right. The sun was just setting, sending shards of yellow and gold light across the calm sea. It was a picture-perfect moment, complete with the handsome, albeit slightly blurry escort.

“You don’t know me at all,” she said.

“I know that you don’t trust me, so why’d you accept my invitation for a drink?”

“Maybe your charm won me over.”

He laughed out loud. The pleasant sound brought a smile to her lips. “Try again,” he said.

He wasn’t the only thing that was blurry, she realized. The edges of the room were starting to fold in on themselves. When was the last time she’d been this drunk? Once, at a friend’s wedding, she recalled hazily, trying to remember exactly when. Maybe five years ago.

Why had she come out with Nick? She ignored the shifting room and thought about his question. Because he’d asked her out about twice a week for a year and every single time she’d wanted to say yes.

It was dumb for a woman like her to be attracted to a man like him. It wasn’t just that he was so much better-looking, or even that he was a criminal and she was a cop. It was that Nick lived life on a completely different level than she did. He got into the moment while she walked around with her head down. He was spontaneous laughter, spontaneous fun, spontaneous sex—oops, where had that thought come from?—while she planned everything out. He joked and teased while she kept the world at bay.

“I needed a break,” she said at last, mostly because it was true.

“Something tells me that’s just an excuse. You’re using me to put off something you don’t want to do.”

Her head snapped up Big mistake. The slight blurring became a wild spinning. Even her seat seemed to be moving. Then she sucked in some air and it all slowed to a manageable level.

“Maybe,” she admitted.

Her hands were once again on the table. He reached across and grabbed one. His thumb brushed against the back of her fingers. It felt nice.

“I need a husband,” she blurted out.

To his credit, Nick didn’t withdraw, or even stiffen. His thumb kept moving back and forth, back and forth. A lethargic heat crept up her arm. His gaze continued to hold hers, the half smile still hovering at the corners of his mouth. Maybe he hadn’t heard her. Maybe she hadn’t actually said it out loud.

“A husband?” he asked calmly. “The usual reason?”

“Usual reason? What’s that?” She thought for a second. “Oh. Oh! Ah, no, not that. I mean, I’m not pregnant.”

Embarrassment flooded her and she gulped the rest of her drink. She thought about flagging down the waitress for another, then decided she was going to be sick enough in the morning as it was. Besides, Nick was still on his first beer and he’d barely touched it at all.

“Good.”

She blinked. What were they talking about? “Good what?”

“I’m glad you’re not pregnant.”

“Me, too. Oh, the husband thing.” She waved her free hand. “I have some family business. It requires me to be married for a few days. I don’t know. Maybe not. Maybe I should just come clean. But she’s so old. What if the shock kills her?” She stared at him earnestly. “I really wouldn’t want that to happen. I haven’t actually even met her, but I want to. Do you think she’ll understand?”

“Yes.”

She had a brief moment of clarity. “You don’t have a clue as to what I’m talking about, do you?”

“Nope. But I like the sound of your voice, so just keep talking.”

She realized he was still stroking her fingers with his thumb. Regretfully, she pulled free of the seductive contact. If only it was true. If only Nick Archer really did think she was a hot babe.

Hannah giggled. She was athletic, strong, and she wore a pistol when she went to work. Somehow she didn’t think she fitted the definition of the word babe.

He toyed with her because it amused him and probably because she hadn’t fallen at his feet the first time she’d seen him. She would have fallen, but she’d already been sitting down, so it had been easy to pretend to be calm.

“You could hire a husband,” he said. “If it’s only temporary.”

“Oh, it is. Just for a few days. Believe me, I’ve thought about it and I could phone…” She glared at him. “You’re laughing at me.”