Jane Sullivan - Risky Business

“So make some.”

“But we’re supposed to be married. What would people think if they knew I was sleeping in a hotel?”

“No one will ever know.”

“Has it occurred to you that once we get to that resort, we’ll be sharing a room?” He raised an eyebrow. “Maybe even a bed?”

Rachel blinked with sudden realization. She hadn’t thought of that. And now that she did…

She’d had her choice of a king-size bed in her room, or two double beds. Of course, she’d reserved the king—she certainly didn’t need two beds. And how could she change it now? What woman wouldn’t opt for a king-size bed over two doubles when she was sharing a room with her husband?

“Seems to me that in light of that upcoming arrangement,” Jack went on, “my staying at your place isn’t a big deal. Then we can go to the resort together tomorrow.” He checked his watch. “Actually, I do have an appointment this afternoon, but I’ll be back here by six o’clock.” He opened her office door, then gave her a knowing smile. “Happy birthday, Rachel.”

He left her office and closed the door behind him. Rachel stared after him in total disbelief, then sank into her chair, put her elbows on her desk and dropped her head to her hands. Oh, Lord, what was she going to do now? For the next four days, she was stuck trying to control a powder keg by the name of Jack Kellerman, a powder keg that could explode at any moment.

She took a deep, calming breath. Okay. She had to focus here. Goal number one: Keep Jack’s identity a secret. Goal number two: Keep Jack’s body out of her bed. Goal number three: Keep Jack’s naked body out of her mind.

If she could pull off all three of those things, she just might escape from this outrageous situation with her career and her self-respect intact. If not…

Oh, boy.

She closed her eyes and promised God that if He’d just get her out of this one little pickle, she’d never tell a lie again.

AFTER LEAVING RACHEL’S office, Jack headed back to the Fairfax Hotel, where he met with the manager and got a tour of the place. Everything was as he’d expected it to be, and more. He called Tom, gave him some specifics, and told him to start working up a bid. Then he dropped the news that he wouldn’t be back to the work site for a couple of days. Tom had gone a little nuts over that, but this trip wasn’t negotiable. Business would keep.

Rachel wouldn’t.

He certainly hadn’t planned for things to go the way they had today, and he could hardly believe his luck. A four-day retreat? Sharing a room? And Rachel had to pretend he was her husband?

Did it get any better than that?

Okay. She clearly didn’t want him around. Or she thought she didn’t, anyway. But now he had four days to convince her otherwise. To put her into the same kind of atmosphere they’d experienced in San Antonio and see what might happen between them. If he could bring back just a glimmer of the connection he’d felt with her, it would all be worth it.

At the Fairfax, he begged for the use of a computer from the hotel manager’s secretary. He researched the Web sites of humanitarian groups who flew to other countries to offer medical assistance, committing buzz words to memory that he could use if necessary. Rachel would undoubtedly fill him in on information concerning what she’d told the people she worked with. Then he’d mesh the two together and come up with a profile he could use so he wouldn’t get tripped up. Even without the preparation, though, he wouldn’t have anticipated any problems in that regard.

After spending his entire childhood as the son of a petroleum engineer who was transferred every year or two, Jack had lived all over the United States and in several foreign countries. He’d been forced to give up friends, then turn right around and make new ones so many times that he’d become a master of the game.

At first it had been painful. Then he discovered the secret. If he made the other kids laugh, pretty soon he had them eating out of his hand. Life could be pretty dull, and the person who spiced things up was the person who had a list of friends as long as his arm. He sometimes felt that he could parachute into anyplace on the planet, and within two days he could have a party and invite twenty people who’d be happy to come. Consequently, he’d never met a situation in his life that he couldn’t talk himself into or out of, and this one would be no different.

After he finished his research, he went by a couple of downtown stores and picked up a few things. Ski equipment he could rent at the resort, but he needed enough clothes and other items to last him four days. He hadn’t planned on going on a buying spree, but as an independently wealthy doctor, shouldn’t he really look his best?

Then, at the appointed hour, he returned to Rachel’s office. Her attitude toward him hadn’t changed a bit. In fact, she acted so coldly toward him as they drove to her condominium that he wouldn’t have been surprised to see icicles forming on the inside of her car. Once they got there, she parked her car, strode inside and didn’t even bother to look back to see if he was following her or not. Jack just smiled. She couldn’t hold out forever. Sooner or later, the sweet, congenial, sexually insatiable woman he’d known in San Antonio would rise to the surface, and when she did, he’d be waiting.

Then he went inside her condo, and he wondered if maybe locating her wild side again would be a taller task than he’d imagined.

Her decor consisted of off-white carpet and off-white walls. Generic art that matched the drapes that matched the sofa that matched the chairs. Not a speck of dust anywhere or a statuette out of place. Dreary traditional furniture that looked as if nobody had ever sat on it. Her home looked like a place where a person twice her age might live—a person twice her age with a desire to freeze the pants off anyone who stepped foot inside it. It reminded him of the decor he’d seen at her office today—modern, efficient, practical, heartless. If he’d found just one cracked wall, a mismatched pillow, or even a family picture or two, he might have been able to feel comfortable.

No chance of that.

Did the same woman live here whom he’d shared the room with in the historic San Antonio hotel? The one with the leaky clawfoot tub and the four-poster bed? The one with the cracks in the walls? The one she said she loved the very smell of?

Impossible.

Rachel hung her coat in the front closet, then did the same with his.

“Have you eaten?” she asked him.

“No, but I’d be happy to take you out.”

She gave him a yeah, I’ll just bet you would look, then strode toward the kitchen. “I’ll order something.”

“Order?”

“I don’t cook. Not very often, anyway.”

“Then what do you eat?”

“Yogurt and granola for breakfast. A salad for lunch. Anything ready to microwave for dinner. Low fat, low cal.”

“How about a pizza?” he asked.

She winced. “I guess one without meat would be okay.”

“I was thinking pepperoni.”

Her lip curled, clearly showing her distaste. “Do you ever think of your arteries?”

“As little as possible.”

“I don’t blame you. They’re probably a real mess.”

“If you’ll remember, we ordered room service in San Antonio.”

She looked away. “So?”

“Steak and potatoes. Chocolate cheesecake for dessert. Extra whipped cream. In fact, as I remember, we talked the room service waiter into bringing us an entire can of whipped cream.” He grinned. “Amazing what you can do with one of those, isn’t it?”

Her cheeks flamed red all over again. She started to say something, then clamped her mouth shut, probably figuring that denial was pointless since she was the one who’d emptied most of the can.