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Wife for a Week(51)

By:Kelly Hunter


Nick sighed, reached for her and held her close to his heart and she sagged against him, not quite as nonchalant or as confident as she seemed.

‘Don’t you ever put me through that again,’ he said gruffly. ‘You hear me?’

Hallie hugged him hard and pulled back a little self-consciously.

Jasmine, he noted, was playing it far cooler with Kai. She’d waited until he set the large parcel he was carrying down on the sideboard before crossing to greet him, a fragrant cup of tea held carefully in both hands. He watched as Kai took the tea with a wry smile on his face and a gentle meeting of hands and knew Hallie had been right about that too. It was a pretty sight, two dark heads bent over an offering of tea, with whitewashed walls, dark wooden furniture and a hastily wrapped parcel in the background. A hastily wrapped vase- shaped parcel in the background.

No. No way. She wouldn’t have dared. Temper licked through him, hot and swift. It couldn’t possibly be what he thought it was. Could it? He glared at Hallie and she smiled back at him, the picture of innocence. He didn’t trust that smile, not one little bit. ‘What the hell,’ he said, pointing towards the parcel, ‘is that?’



Nick accepted John’s rather hasty offer to complete their business directly. It was either that or blow a fuse over how and why Hallie came to be in possession of that damned vase, and he suspected the older man knew it. So they were in John’s study, the contract papers spread out on the desk, having just been signed by the older man and just about to be signed by him. Trouble was, he couldn’t do it.

‘Is there a problem?’ asked the older man.

‘Yes,’ he said.

‘We have agreed that the terms are fair.’ John’s voice was cool.

‘And they are,’ Nick was quick to say. ‘That’s not the problem. The problem is that a contract is based on trust and understanding. Honour. You’ve always been honourable in your dealings with me. I, on the other hand, have not been completely honourable in my dealings with you.’

John Tey sat back in his chair and regarded him steadily.

Nick took a deep breath and prepared to tell it as it was. ‘I’m not married. Hallie isn’t my wife. She’s only pretending to be my wife.’

‘I know,’ said the older man, and at Nick’s open-mouthed astonishment, ‘I’ve always known.’

Maybe it was the vodka, maybe it was this latest shock coming so close on the heels of the appearance of the vase, but Nick didn’t know what to say. Or do. He wasn’t entirely sure he still had the power of speech.

‘You don’t really think I’d sign a multimillion-dollar deal with a man and not run a background check on him, do you? It’s standard company procedure.’ John Tey smiled. ‘Given that the company details you provided were accurate to the last cent, I would, however, like to know why you felt it necessary to lie about your marital status.’

Ah. ‘A misjudgement on my part,’ said Nick uncomfortably. He really didn’t want to go into the why of it.

‘I believe that at one stage my daughter viewed you as a prospective husband,’ said the older man shrewdly. ‘And that you invented a wife because you wished to spare her feelings.’

‘I invented a wife because I wanted to secure this deal,’ corrected Nick, with a self-mocking twist of his lips. If he was going to tell the truth it may as well be the unvarnished truth. ‘I didn’t want to marry your daughter and I couldn’t afford to offend either of you. Trust me, there was far more self-preservation involved than chivalry.’

John conceded the point with a shrug. ‘Then there’s Hallie.’ He shook his head, smothered a chuckle. ‘You may not be married to her yet, Nicholas, but it’s clear you’ve given her your heart.’

‘What?’ spluttered Nick. ‘You can’t think…I’m not…’ Oh, hell! He was.

He was foolishly, undeniably in love with Hallie Bennett. She of the Titian hair, golden brown eyes, and God-given talent for finding trouble.

‘I think you’re going to have your hands full there, son.’

Nick groaned. He could see it all so clearly. Hallie in his bed, sharing his life, and him never wanting, never even looking at another woman because this one filled him so completely. He could see it now. A house brimful with ancient wonders and rambunctious sons, and a tiny daughter with fly-away black hair and golden eyes and the ability to wrap her daddy, uncles and all of her brothers around her dainty little fingers. He’d be buying shotguns by the dozen. Valium by the caseful. What if—and here was a truly terrifying thought—what if they had two daughters? ‘Shoot me now,’ he told John. ‘It’ll be quicker and far less painful.’