Husband for Hire (8 page)

“I fell asleep,” he said.

She smiled. “Guess you needed it.”

“Sleep and I haven't been friends for a while.”

She did what she'd wanted to do since the moment she laid eyes on him. She ran her fingers through his hair, still slightly damp, but thick and luxurious. “I sleep like a log.”

“I know. At least you don't snore.”

“Thanks for the news flash.” She swirled her thumbs at his temples until he closed his eyes. His hands slid down to cup her rear. After a while he began massaging her there, stroking and kneading. Aroused, she squirmed. She could feel his arousal, too.

He opened his eyes. “Stop?” he asked.

She shook her head. He shifted his legs so that she could balance more easily. Her hands on his chest, she steadied herself, anxious but waiting for him to make the moves.

“I'm at a disadvantage here,” he said.

“In what way?”

“You get to touch skin.”

“That really is unfair, isn't it?” She sat up a little. “I think you need to even the playing field.”

As he moved from button to button, she was glad she'd put on her pretty blue bra, the one that gave her a little lift and cleavage—especially when he pressed his face into her and took a long, deep breath, as if he'd come home or something. She curved her arms up his head, her fingers burrowed in his hair as he stayed motionless, his breath hot and steady.

She'd thought he was a fairly easy-to-understand man, but this made her wonder about him, almost as
if he needed her comfort more than sex—or whatever was going to come of this.

Finally he tugged her blouse off and unhooked her bra, letting the items fall to the floor. “You're perfect,” he said, covering her breasts with his hands, her hard nipples pressing against his palms.

She angled toward him, wanting him to use his mouth instead. A long, low sound escaped her when he ran his thumbs over her then. She arched back, inviting more, and his warm, wet mouth settled on her nipples, his tongue exploring her leisurely, thoroughly, his teeth scraping her lightly.

Her fantasy man was proving himself real. And she wanted him…

Then the doorbell rang.

“S
pecial delivery,” a woman called through the door. Not just any woman. Shana.

Gavin helped Becca stand, then he scooped up her bra and blouse, shoved them into her hands, and she took off for her bedroom. He put on his own shirt as he went to the door, finger combing his hair before he opened it.

Shana looked ready to greet him then tried to sneak a glance into the room, a view he was blocking. “Did I interrupt something?” Her eyes sparkled.

“Yes.” He reached for the large plastic-wrapped bundle she carried. “We were moving furniture. Come in.”

“I called you a while ago, but you didn't pick up
the phone. I figured I'd take a chance that one of you was home, so I didn't have to haul this—” She stopped in her tracks, plunked her fists on her hips. “No way. You did not get this room painted—” she moved toward the kitchen “—
and
the tile done today by yourself.
No way
.”

“O ye of little faith.”

She laughed. “Who'd you hire?”

He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Kincaid.”

Her mouth dropped open. “You owe me a tune-up.”

“I do.”

“You didn't play fair at all.”

“What do you care? You won.”

She clamped her mouth shut at that and then pointed a finger at him. “You planned this. I don't need charity, Gavin.”

“What charity? I didn't realize how over my head I was until after you left. The work had to get done somehow. Kincaid was the first person who came to mind. So, take your car into Mather's and have Ed send me the bill. And for the record, Shana? I did participate. I painted, and I helped tile. Life skills, Kincaid called them. He made me work right alongside him.”

“Bully for him.”

“You weren't supposed to be here until Friday,” he said to his sister, accusation in his voice that he couldn't control. She'd interrupted his moment with Becca at the worst possible time.

Or the best,
his mind whispered. Making love with her wasn't a good idea, and he knew it.

Becca came out of the bedroom then, looking pulled together. But his brain was burned with an image of her without her blouse, how beautiful she was, her slender frame, smooth skin and amazing breasts.

He'd also fallen asleep during her massage. A short, deep, satisfying sleep.

“Hi, Shana,” Becca said, seeming a little hesitant to step into the fray. She'd probably heard every word. “I can't believe how transformed this place is already, and Gavin says you're not done yet.”

“Not even close. Hi, yourself.” Shana smiled. “I found the perfect light fixture for over your dining-room table while I was at lunch today. Want to see it?”

“Absolutely.” Becca put a hand on Shana's arm. “Have you eaten? We hadn't decided whether to go out or have something delivered. We'd love to have you join us.”

We
would? Gavin thought as he cut away the plastic from the light. Actually he thought it was one of the worst ideas ever. Becca could learn way too much about him, things he wasn't ready to share, if he ever was. Four more days and their relationship would end.

“I appreciate the invitation,” Shana said. “But I want to get home to my little girl. Another time? Maybe on a weekend?”

“It's a date. Oh! The fixture is gorgeous.”

The white-glass-and-nickel pendant light was perfect, Gavin thought. Shana really did have the eye. “Good choice,” he said.

“I'll install it on Friday. Unless you'd like to make another bet with me, big brother.” Her expression held challenge and humor.

“Wouldn't even attempt it. How do you know how?”

“It's a life skill.”

Gavin laughed.

“Anyway, I only have to replace the other fixture. I couldn't have wired the space. I leave that for the pros.”

“I absolutely love it and everything else you've chosen,” Becca said. “Including the paint color. Do you have any business cards I could hand out? I would highly recommend you.”

Shana gave Gavin a look, as if she was surprised but trying hard not to show it in front of her client.

“I don't have any with me,” Shana said, “but I'll bring some to you. Thank you, Becca.” She hugged Becca and then Gavin, whispering in his ear, “You're a good brother.”

He smiled as she left, her praise warming him.

“So,” Becca said, slipping her hands in her pockets. “It's probably not a good idea for us to pick up where we left off.”

“Oh, it would be a good idea, all right, but probably not a wise one,” he said, knowing she was right
and sorry that she was. And she somehow managed to look relieved and disappointed at the same time. “Want to hit the Thai restaurant?”

“That'd be good.”

He waited while she got her purse, his gaze lingering on the chair of pleasure, as he would think of it from now on. Becca had great hands, strong yet soothing. The fact he'd fallen asleep told him that even his subconscious trusted her. He wondered if spending the whole night in her bed would let him sleep better.

“Are you okay?” Becca asked, suddenly standing right in front of him, frowning.

No one had worried about him in a long time, probably because he didn't generally let anyone that close. The concerned look on Becca's face would usually be a good enough reason for him to back off, but he gathered her close and held her tight. “Everything is good,” he said, meaning it.

A minute later they were on their way to dinner. Then they spent the remainder of the evening un-boxing, sorting, putting away and tossing. The file cabinets would be delivered in the morning, then all the paperwork could be tucked away, out of sight.

Her house would be a home finally. And he would be irrelevant—unless she decided to let the lie continue with her brothers instead of telling the truth.

When she yawned he checked the time. Almost midnight. He was used to running on empty, but she wasn't.

“You must be wiped out,” he said. She was sitting cross-legged in the office, a few piles of paper spread out in front of her. “I hadn't realized how late it was.”

She smiled sleepily, which he found incredibly sexy. Then when she stretched, his mouth went dry.

“The end is in sight,” she said, grabbing hold of his outstretched hand and standing.

“How're things going at work with Chip? Is he speaking to you yet?”

“He's been distant. People have noticed.” She shrugged. “That, too, shall end.”

“Have you decided what you're going to tell your brothers?”

“Yes. Then no.” She shrugged. “I usually make up my mind quickly. If I had less time to think about it, I'd probably do better. Does that make sense?”

“It does.” He smoothed her hair, which had gotten appealingly messy over the course of the evening, and then he kissed her forehead.

She leaned into him for a minute. “My knight,” she said. “Rescuing me from myself.”

“I'm glad I don't have a trusty steed to feed.”

“Instead you have a mighty sports car that you probably have to feed with gas every two hundred miles.”

“Two hundred and fifty.”

“I stand corrected.” She pushed away, although she seemed reluctant. “I know it seems like I'm
always thanking you, Gavin, but you're always deserving it.”

He should be thanking
her
for giving him something important to do to keep his mind busy, for making him feel needed. “Oh, yeah, it's been such a hardship spending time with you.”

Her smile lit up the room. He liked this sleepy, sexy Becca. “Will you sleep in a little tomorrow?” he asked.

“I doubt it. I'm programmed for six-thirty.”

“Okay. I'll see you for breakfast at seven.”

She followed him to the front door. “You don't have to come so early, you know. Sleep in.”

“I might.” But he wouldn't. He just didn't want to argue the point.

He opened the door, turned around, took a last look at her. She raised her brows in question. “Have you ever been in love?” he asked.

She blinked in surprise to the intrusive question, but she answered. “I thought I was once. I was nineteen. What does anyone really know at nineteen? Have you? Been in love?”

“No. Have you ever lived with a man?”

“I shared a house with two guys and another girl in college. We didn't…commingle.”

“Commingle,” he repeated, amused. “Interesting word choice.”

She shrugged. “How about you?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

It was a strange conversation to be having in her doorway, after midnight, in the middle of the work-week. The whole building seemed to be sleeping. “Never wanted to.”

“Not even tempted?” she asked.

“Not even. You?”

“Once.”

“The guy you thought you loved?” She nodded. “We would've probably killed each other.”

He laughed at the outrageous idea. She grinned back.

“Sleep well, Becca.”

“You, too. Don't forget to take off your armor before you get in bed, Sir Gavin. You might not be able to get up.” She winked at him, then shut the door.

He was glad she did, because he couldn't seem to make himself leave. Ever since he'd started wondering if sleeping with her would help him get some rest, he hadn't been able to think of much else. Would having her there to hold on to help?

Gavin was tempted to go back and knock on her door, ask if he could stay. Instead he punched the down button for the elevator and then made his way back to his hotel. He got ready for bed, leaving his drapes open, as always, lying on his side to look out into the night. This evening there were clouds that hid the stars. The metallic smell of impending rain had assaulted him as he left her place. Rain would
be good, he thought. Clean things up a bit. Start the day fresh.

Start fresh.
Maybe that's what he needed for himself. Maybe going back to work in a week or two wasn't the answer. He certainly wasn't ready yet. His hands wouldn't be steady, he would question every decision he made. And the longer he stayed away, the less he wanted to return to his practice. To that life.

He couldn't delay his decision forever, he knew that. But it could wait until he'd helped Becca through this weekend. He kept his commitments.

But once the weekend was over, he would make his choices.

“Y
ou're sure?” Gavin asked.

“If you think we can pull it off, then, yes.” Becca paced her living room, not paying attention to how beautiful it looked. It was Saturday morning. Shana had finished up the decorating last night. Becca had cried, it looked so nice.

“Do you think we can, Gavin?” Her worry about her brothers' arrival was becoming increasingly stronger.

“I don't see why not.” He didn't look quite as confident as he sounded.

“I think they'll expect me to be behaving a little differently,” she said. “After all, I've never been married before.”

“You're probably right.”

She pressed her hands to her stomach. Gavin had made her eat some toast, which had helped settle her queasiness some but not completely.

“C'mere,” he said, taking her hand, leading her to the couch and forcing her to sit beside him. “Let's run through this one last time. Why did you pretend you eloped in the first place?”

She focused on the goal. “For them, especially Eric. He won't relax until he knows I'm being taken care of. Only then will he give up his constant sense of responsibility to me and my happiness and let himself find his own.”

“It's a very good reason, right?”

“Right.” The tightness inside her eased a bit. “I know my reasoning was good, even though my solution may be over the top. I'm not sure I can fake the lie for twenty-four hours. I could never pull a fast one on Eric. Or Jeff, for that matter. He's only two years older, so we spent a lot more time together than I did with Sam and Trent.”

“I'll be beside you every minute, Becca. You won't have to handle it alone.”

“You're really okay with doing this?”

“I've thought about it for nine days. The more I've come to know you, the easier the idea has become.” He squeezed her hand. “But if at any time you decide you want to come clean, I'll be here for you, too.”

Every day he became more of a gift to her, Becca thought. And every day she fell for him a little more.
She didn't want to fall in love with him. Refused to. What a horrible situation
that
would create.

“Okay. Game on,” she said firmly, looking at Gavin. “That was good thinking, bringing some of your clothes to hang in my closet and your stuff for the bathroom.” Not to mention, he'd put copies of
Sports Illustrated
and
Car and Driver
on the coffee table. Extra beer in the refrigerator. Plenty of food for men with big appetites to snack on. Gavin had taken care of every detail.

Becca glanced at the clock on her mantel. Half hour to go. Thirty nerve-racking minutes…

 

Gavin got up from the couch and went to Becca's iPod dock, deciding she needed something else to occupy herself until her family arrived. He scrolled through her music list, chose a tune, started it, then asked her to dance. He hoped she wouldn't beg off.

He needn't have worried. She grabbed his hand, bounced right up and got caught up in the rhythm. She danced well, moved gracefully, put her whole body into it. As did he. He loved to dance, had always found a freedom in it. When the song stopped and another started, it was slower, and he pulled her into his arms and made good use of the open space near the front door. They were a good match, perfectly attuned to each other's bodies, anticipating well, rarely making a misstep.

It was a rare thing to find, that kind of matchup.

They danced without talking, smiling the whole
time, the music changing from fast to slow to fast again. He whirled her in circles. She danced around him as if he were a maypole. He hadn't seen this playful side of her, and he liked it. A whole lot.

She looked relaxed and carefree, an expression that didn't fade, not even when her doorbell rang. She danced to the door and flung it open, revealing a blockade of four men, all of whom looked athletic and blood related.

Becca squealed like a teenager then hugged each of them, her happiness contagious. No one could stay serious around her. Her eyes sparkled brightly as she introduced everyone to Gavin.

“Callahan?” Jeff repeated upon finally being told Gavin's last name, then grinned. “Another good Irish name.”

Gavin already knew who was who from their photographs, but he could've picked out Eric regardless. They all had hair in varying shades of brown, but Eric's was graying at the temples, giving him a patriarchal look—along with the fact his handshake was not just firm but hard, and his gaze unflinching, although it softened a little when Becca came up be side Gavin and slipped her arm around his waist then leaned against him. Her cheeks were still flushed from the dancing.

And she didn't look nervous at all. She looked happy, deep down, sincerely happy. He slipped his arm around her shoulders.

“Were you playing handball or something when we got here?” Eric asked.

“Dancing,” Becca answered.

“Whoa, sis!” Jeff said. “Your place looks awesome. Doc has obviously been a good influence.”

“There's even food in the fridge,” she said, not taking offense. “Beer, too.”

“Are you hungry?” Gavin asked. “We've got plenty of sandwich stuff.”

A chorus of “sounds good” followed. Then the group moved toward the kitchen, although one brother—Sam—went to stand at the window to look at the view.

A great deal of commotion ensued, playful pushing and shoving and elbow jabbing amongst Trent, Jeff and Becca, who put herself in the middle of the fray, her happiness not diminishing a bit, nerves not showing.

“So, you're a doctor,” Eric said to Gavin as they leaned against the counter, watching the byplay.

“Yes.” He became aware of all the brothers at least partially focusing their attention on the conversation—which meant worry started to settle in Becca's eyes. “Ob-gyn.”

“Do you like it?” Jeff asked, his eyes twinkling.

“I do.”

“Are you good at it?” Eric asked.

“I am.”

Eric gave him a long look, then nodded, as if he liked the short, direct answers.

“How about you?” Gavin asked.

“I've got my hands in a few different ventures,” he said with a shrug.

“But he's also a math professor. He's kind of a Jekyll and Hyde,” Jeff said.

Eric smiled tolerantly at his brother. “I've been thinking about moving to Sacramento,” Eric said after a brief pause.

The blood drained from Becca's face. Gavin's first instinct was to go to her, but she rallied herself quickly enough to look happy about the news. Maybe she was. Maybe she would make the decision to tell Eric the truth now. Get it over with.

“Are you serious?” she asked.

“Very. Would that please you?”

Quiet settled in the space, as if everyone was holding their breath. “I'd love it if
all
of you moved here!”

Sam walked away from the window to join them. “I've been considering it, as well,” he said coolly, calmly, keeping his gaze on Becca.

“Me, too,” Trent said, looking up from building his sandwich, winking at his sister.

Jeff grinned. “Well, hell. I don't want to be left out.”

Becca's expression morphed from shock to joy to confusion. She pressed a hand to her stomach, indicating turmoil, then the conversation turned noisy again, all the brothers except Eric contributing to it.

Gavin considered pulling today's classified ads from the recycling bin, then realized he didn't know what they did for a living. They could all be in jobs or professions not usually advertised in the newspaper. Plus, they weren't really his brothers-in-law, so it was none of his business.

A concept that hadn't stopped Becca. She'd left a copy of the paper on the counter this morning where he couldn't miss it, opened to the classifieds.

He didn't figure it was by accident, since she wasn't a subscriber, traveling as much as she did. So she must have bought a copy specifically for him.

At first he'd been annoyed. She'd hinted now and then about him finding permanent work, talked endlessly about her satisfaction with her job, her sense of accomplishment and pride. He couldn't tell her he already had a job because he wasn't ready to talk to her—or anyone—about it yet. He had a feeling, however, that Eric would find out, now that he knew Gavin's last name, and that cat would be out of the bag.

He and Becca were both treading in dangerous waters.

The Sheridans spent the afternoon reminiscing, this being the first time in years all five of them had been together at the same time. The teasing was lighthearted, the stories of Becca as a child told with brotherly love and enthusiasm. She was obviously the adored little sister. Eric didn't say much, as if still assessing Gavin and finding him lacking. At dinnertime
they walked to a nearby restaurant, lingered over a nice meal, toasted several times to Becca and Gavin's happiness and a long, fruitful marriage.

The three younger brothers asked about finding a nightclub with live music and dancing so they could check out the Sacramento scene, to see if it was worth making the move. Gavin was fine with going to a loud club where talking wouldn't even be possible, but by the time they got to the club, Eric wasn't feeling well.

Planning on checking out my doctoring skills?
Gavin asked the man silently. “Something you ate?” he asked aloud.

“I don't know.” His face was a little pale. He couldn't fake that.

“Gavin and I will go back to the loft with you,” Becca said, concern in her eyes. “You three can head to the club. We'll see you in the morning.”

“Want us to swing by and get you when we're done?” Sam asked Eric.

“I'm sure I can get to the hotel on my own. I'll see you later.”

Gavin figured Eric wanted to be alone with him and Becca, to ask whatever questions were on his mind, but whatever they were, he didn't get a chance to ask. He headed straight for the guest bathroom.

“Food poisoning, do you think?” Becca asked Gavin as they sat on the couch, waiting.

“Hard to say.” He wrapped a hand around both of hers, tucked in her lap. “You've held up well.”

Her smile was a little lopsided. “Some close calls.”

“You were right. Eric can be intimidating.”

“He's been watching you like a hawk,” she said.

“I know. Do you think I'm passing inspection?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. I'm assuming he'll take me aside for a heart-to-heart before they leave tomorrow.”

“Me, too,” Gavin said, sure of it. “I like them, Becca. They're all great.” And because he liked them, he felt even worse about the deceit. “I've also picked up on how protective they are of you.”

“They've toned it down, big-time.” She leaned into him, keeping her voice low. “Thank you again for making this place a real home. You heard the amazement in their voices when I took them on a tour of the rooms. You, rightfully, got the credit.”

He kissed her hair. “Apparently I've been a good influence.”

She nestled closer. “Obviously I needed it.”

He wasn't going to want to leave tomorrow. The thought had been swirling in his head all day. The job would be done, but he…wasn't.

“Any chance you've got an extra toothbrush?” Eric asked from behind them. He was leaning against the bathroom doorjamb. His face had gone even paler, his skin looked clammy.

“Of course.” Becca hopped up and hurried off to her bedroom.

Gavin went to stand by Eric. “What do you think it
is? We had the same thing for dinner, and I feel fine. Lunch, too, for that matter. Have you been around someone with the flu?”

Eric shook his head. “I didn't feel great this morning. I've had a headache since I got up. I hate to ask this of you, but I don't think I can make it to the hotel.” He aimed his next question at Becca as she returned and handed him the item he'd requested. “Do you mind if I bunk here?”

Becca looked at Gavin, whose expression gave away nothing. “Of course we don't mind. What else do you need?”

“If you would call Sam and let him know?”

“Sure.” Becca put a hand on his forehead. “You feel cold.”

“Do you have a thermometer?” Gavin asked her.

“I'm sorry, no.”

“I thought doctors always had a medical bag with them with emergency supplies in it,” Eric said.

“Some do. Aside from the headache, are you in pain?”

“No pain. Just feel like crap.”

 

Leaving them to talk, Becca headed into the guest room to turn down the bedding. Two thoughts held court in her head—her big, strong brother was ill, and Gavin was going to have to stay the night. In her bedroom.

“Don't fuss,” Eric said, coming into the room.

“It's my right as your sister.” She couldn't bear
seeing him sick, couldn't remember a time when he had been. He always seemed invincible.

“I'm sure I'll be fine by morning.”

“Well, don't play macho man. If you need anything, knock on my—our door.”

Gavin came in carrying a small bucket. “Just in case,” he said, setting it next to the bed. “I put a glass in the bathroom. Keep yourself hydrated if you feel you can keep it down.”

“Thanks. Now good night, both of you.”

“If you get worse, or develop any pain, wake me up,” Gavin said then shut the door behind him.

Sam didn't answer his phone, so Becca left a voice mail. After that there was nothing to do except face facts—they had a long night ahead of them. They'd acknowledged their attraction to each other. They'd kissed a couple of times. They'd had that moment in her living room, half-naked, all heat. They'd barely gotten started exploring each other when Shana had arrived unexpectedly. They'd been careful since then not to put themselves in temptation's way.

Now they had no choice. Could they resist?