Wife in Name Only

chapter Nine


A breeze played at the nape of Rory’s neck. He wiped the sweat from his forehead, breathed in the island’s earthy, salty, coconut-mango scent, and his muscles relaxed. Feeling like he was being watched, he turned to see Zoe standing under the shade of a palm with a bag at her feet. The camera was trained on him.

After having the best few hours of sleep he’d had in a year, he’d awakened to an empty bed with something like yearning kicking a can around his gut. He’d checked his e-mails. Everything else was under control, but without the phone, he had no idea what was happening with Joe and the deal. He pushed aside the irritation clawing at his gut and started putting up tarpaper on one of the houses that needed fixing. Soon his body relaxed, and he immersed himself in repairing a wall that had been bugging him.

His muscles aching in a good way, he put down the hammer and walked toward Zoe. His eyes were drawn to her glossy lips.

“You worked through the whole day?��� The faint smell of watermelon clung to her.

He rubbed his temple and glanced at his watch, surprised. “Yeah, I guess I did.” He looked back at the almost-completed house and a zing of pride spiked through him. “Almost done on this one. I’ll finish off the roof tomorrow then start on the next house.”

“Feel good being out here, getting back to your roots?”

He shrugged tired shoulders. “I’d kill for a beer and a massage.”

She laughed. “Come with me. I can help with both.”

The thought of Zoe’s hands kneading his muscles, possibly only wearing lingerie, kick-started all parts of his body.

“Massage only.” She swatted his shoulder, playfully. “I know what you’re thinking, and it ain’t going to happen.”

That stopped him short. That’s exactly what he’d been thinking. They had to get rid of this whole mind-meld thing they had going.

“I’ll stop by the office later to check e-mails and find that phone.”

“Okay,” she said, staring him straight in the eye. “I’ll help you.”

Twenty minutes later, he was showered and lying face down on Zoe’s bed, wearing board shorts. Zoe straddled his ass as she kneaded tight knots out of his shoulder. He had a chubby that was going to take about two seconds in the shower to make disappear, and he was grateful she couldn’t see it. Her smooth thighs gripped his. Even in denim cut-offs he could feel the heat pouring out of her, and her musky scent enveloped him.

“Feel good?” she said in a voice that held more than a thread of lust.

“Yeah. Feels great.” He winced as she worked on one knot in his shoulder that was taking its time unraveling under her skilled hands. Fine by him. Pleasure and pain combined in a sweet mess in his head. He didn’t even know if it was night or day, and right now, he didn’t care.

Her fingers teased the coconut-scented cream into his skin in long strokes. He bunched his hands. In about two seconds he was going to flip from underneath her, peel her clothes off, take that pot of cream, and rub it into every freckle and crevice on her hot, tight body.

He turned his head to start the movement, and his eyes fell on a dark cord that snaked from a power outlet to under a set of drawers. Angling his head, he saw the red glow of the phone charger.

Breath fizzed in his lungs.

“What the f*ck?”

He flipped over, grabbed her by the hips, slid from underneath her, and grabbed the satellite phone.

“What’s this, Zo?” he said in a low voice.

The glazed look was replaced by a sheepish grin.

“You hid the phone?”

“Yeah, I did.” She stared at him, her face pale but resolute, with her chin slightly jutted. All signs of desire were gone.

He stared at her, perplexed. “Why?”

“I did check it. If there was anything urgent, I would have told you.” She walked to a drawer and pulled out squares of paper. “I kept the messages. None of them are urgent.” She shuffled them. “They’re all from your henchman Joe. ‘Rory, all good. Negotiations going as planned. Will call when I have an update.’”

She put the square of paper on the dresser. He could only stare at her, frozen.

“’Rory, plans progressing as anticipated. There’s been a slight complication over the paperclips. I’ll call back when I have news.’” He closed his eyes. F*ck. That was not the news he wanted to hear. He was dead in the water. He vaguely heard her speak over the slamming of blood into his brain.

“And the last one came in two hours ago. I was going to give you this message tonight. ‘Looking better. Paperclips need to be negotiated. Will call you when I know more.’”

Her eyebrows drew in, and she had that what’s your problem look in her dancing baby blue eyes.

“Why’d you do it, Zo? Why?” He barely managed. “The biggest f*cking deal of my life, and you screwed me.”

“What? No.” She paled. “I thought I was doing you a favor. You’ve been so happy helping out with Simi and the guys. You’ve become a nice guy, relaxed and kind of charming. And…you know…nice guy Rory means nicer shots of you around the island.” Her voice trailed off.

He broke eye contact, unable to figure out how the hell he felt about his wife.

Wife in name only.

Hang on.

His blood went cold

“So, you did this for your brochure? For the resort?” He put down the phone and stared at the woman he never dreamed would betray him. He guessed that was something else he would be adding to the ever-growing list of why they were really and truly done.

“Yeah.” She stuck her hands on her hips. “What is your problem?” Her eyes flashed.

“The problem, Zoe, is you did exactly what you’re accusing me of. You manipulated me, took away the phone, and said I’m all about business when the whole time you’ve been all about business.” He walked toward her. Her face paled by the second. “You’ve done exactly what I would have done. Turned this into a business opportunity.” Anger and something that felt like regret churned in his gut. “Feel good, Zo?”

She stared up at him, her eyes huge and glassy. “No, that isn’t what I meant.”

“Isn’t it?” He pushed his hands into his pockets.

“No. I thought if you let go for a few days and let your henchmen do your work, you’d see that you can let other people run the business. That you can let go and not be twenty-four-seven business.” She crouched on the bed as if her knees couldn’t hold her. “That’s horrible, Rory. I’d never be that manipulative.” Her hand clasped her throat.

“What, you mean you’d never be me?”

She flinched and shook her head.

“Without you even knowing it, I think you are. This is the deal of the century. And I have no idea if the deal Joe struck is the deal I would have negotiated.”

He picked up the phone and walked to the door, turning back briefly. “I don’t know whether to congratulate you or offer you a job.” His eyes traveled to his carry-all. He reached for it and hitched it over his shoulder. “I’ll sleep in the bungalow next door.” He gripped the door handle so tight, he thought he heard it groan. “I swear, Zoe. If there was a time-machine I’d be in it, and I’d never set foot on this island.”

He closed the door and stalked to the office, nausea wrestling the unease in his stomach. He wanted to throw something. Part of what she’d said had been right. He had enjoyed getting back out there and finishing the houses. He punched a couple of buttons. The screen’s NO NEW MESSAGES readout taunted him. He had no doubt that Joe could cut a good deal, but it was a deal he should have been in control of.

He kicked a coconut out of the way. Yes, some of what she’d said had been the truth; it had been liberating to be able to focus on bigger projects, but he was not going to be manipulated by his very-soon-to-be-ex-wife.

But an inner part of him saluted her and another part of him crushed under the weight that she’d been conning him the whole time, and damned if he wasn’t the fool that couldn’t see it.

F*ck me. Screwed by his own wife. He hadn’t seen that coming, and damn if it didn’t bite deep.

A short time later, he was back in his world, fresh from talking to Joe. There were a few tweaks he wanted changed on the contract, but all in all it looked like they might be able to nail everything down. Still, getting back home and away from this shit had to take priority. He sent out a few e-mails, basically offering body parts for someone to pick him up and take him to Vav’au, propped his feet on the desk, and stared out at a gray sky with darker clouds threatening the horizon. The waves were not so much a gentle rush onto the shore but a slap. The weather matched his mood.

His stomach grumbled to life, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten. He stood, stretched, and felt his muscles burn. He must not have been doing enough in the gym, as muscles he didn’t know he possessed had been reborn on the rooftops of the local houses.

Movement out the corner of his eye caught his attention.

Zoe ran past the office, bare feet hitting the ground, her face deathly white, tears running down her face. She didn’t glance in his direction, or any direction for that matter.

Shit, something was wrong. Whatever the hell chased her had her looking like she’d seen death.

Before he could get a tail on her, she disappeared into the jungle, her body carving through paths he didn’t know about.

In a split-second, he punched open the door and ran after her, her white t-shirt a blur as she appeared and disappeared on the trail.

He followed her, gaining ground and calling her name, but she didn’t slow. He lost sight of her and stopped. His heart slammed against his ribs.

Shit.

He backtracked. His blood turned cold, his breath came in long pulls, and he walked in a tight circle until he spied a path he hadn’t noticed that cut away to the left. It went away from the resort and higher into the jungle.

His body soaked in sweat and his lungs screaming for mercy by the time he found her curled into a ball under the shade of a group of palm trees. Cinderella arrived a few minutes after him with her breath labored and her tongue hanging out. She went straight to Zoe and lay around her protectively, but she shifted so he could sit beside her.

“Zoe, what’s up?”

Nothing.

He pulled her into his lap. Her whole body trembled, and her skin was cold to the touch.

“Shit, are you sick?” His hand went to her forehead. Her skin was clammy.

She looked up at him, her eyes huge in her pale face, her thin lips trembling. “No, I just had the mother lode of panic attacks.” Her eyes drifted to the ground. “I had to get away,” she said absently.

“From what?” He gently brushed her hair from her face.

She stared up at him. “From me.” Horror filled her eyes.

“I didn’t know you got them.” He searched his memory bank for any kind of reaction that she’d had, but he came up blank. He didn’t know much about them.

“I started getting them in L.A, about six months before I left. When we were in our texting phase. They’d just sneak up on me. I’d be at Albertsons buying groceries, and the feeling would paralyze me. My heart would beat out of my chest. I couldn’t breathe. I just had to get away.”

Why hadn’t he known this? Had he been so locked in his world that he hadn’t seen her dealing with this alone? “Why didn’t you say anything?”

He wrapped his arms around her tighter.

She shook her head. “My doctor ran a whole lot of tests, and they all came back fine. We sat down and talked about what was happening in my life and the pressure I was under and if I was happy with my life and had inner happiness.” She paused, and then continued in a whisper. “I wasn’t happy. I didn’t like myself. I was existing without being, if that makes sense. I knew I had to get away, to save myself. I went to therapy in L.A, and I learned how to control them. Mostly. I haven’t had a full blown one like this since before I came here.”

She took a shuddering breath. He forgot to breathe, and his heart hammered painfully against his chest wall.

“Today I became that person. I swore I’d never be her again. You were right, I did manipulate the situation. I hid the phone and lied to your face and I’m sorry. That’s what I would have done then. Pretend and lie that everything was fine when it wasn’t.” She backed out of his arms and his lap, and he felt the sting of coldness. She stood on very shaky legs, and he stood next to her.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen.” A ball of air clumped in his throat.

“Not you, Rory. Me. I let this happen. You being here hasn’t changed me. I slipped back.” She took a halting breath. “Hence the full-on panic attack. This was a wake-up call and a reminder of why I left L.A. and that life and you and everything. It’s toxic to me.”

He stepped back. Toxic. He didn’t even know what to do with the word.

“So you run?” The words fired out of his mouth. “I don’t mean actual running, Zo. I mean you run away when the problem gets too hard?”

She lifted her chin, and her eyes flashed. Strength came off her in thick waves. “Not running. Surviving. I’m sorry about curling up on you and all. I know your views on spooning.” A hint of a smile curled her lips, and a touch of color heightened her cheeks, making her hauntingly vulnerable and breathtakingly beautiful.

He lifted her chin and looked deep into her eyes. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I am, Rory, I am. I promised myself that I wouldn’t hide my emotions or what I feel again, and I did. I’m sorry I lied about the phone, I truly am. I’m not going to pretend that this panic attack didn’t scare the shit out of me because it did.” She crossed her arms. “We come from different worlds now. Those boundaries crossed today. They won’t again.”

He watched her walk away. His gut churned while blood barely threaded through his veins. Something close to disquiet attached itself to his temple and throbbed.

She was right. Everything she’d said had been gospel. They were different planets orbiting the sun.

Why couldn’t he be the one to work part of the year here? Look after her. Make her feel safe.

He blinked, and his whole body shivered.

Jesus.

Where the hell had that thought come from? Man, his brain must be fried. As if he could be away from Hughes Enterprises. The thought twisted his gut. Being here with Zoe was the longest time he’d been away. Yeah, it had been fun up until now, playing on her island, but the very real need to get back to reality gave him a sharp nudge.

He stared at her until his eyes burned, and she disappeared from view with her dog at her side. His tired brain was malfunctioning and Zoe had just given him the wakeup call that he needed.

He made his way back to the office and immersed himself in his world. He trained his eyes on the computer screen and ignored Zoe singing more freaking ABBA. Her voice knocked through his thoughts. Pushing back his chair, he stalked to his bungalow and threw on running gear. He needed to go on a punishing run.

…

Zoe sipped a cup of chilled chamomile tea, swinging in a hammock, taking twenty minutes to enjoy life. She scrunched her nose at the flowery smell and grimaced. Why does this always taste like compost? She turned her head. The sea was a glittering jewel carving the shoreline, and tiny pink and white shells littered the sand. Two hermit crabs raced up the beach on spindly legs. The panic attack of three days ago had sent a bullet of reality to her brain. She was going to take twenty minutes, thirty if she needed it. She stretched muscles as relaxed as if she’d just finished a yoga pose.

She’d forgotten how lonely this place could be without guests roaming around or people to talk to—one day rolling into the next, without hearing another voice. But loneliness was a small price to pay for peace of mind.

As mad as he was after their confrontation over the lost phone, she’d missed Rory. She missed their easy banter and the tension crackling between them. He made her feel…alive. His words burned into the back of her brain. It still made her feel sick, how easy it had been to turn into a master manipulator. But a part of her had taken Hillary’s words to heart, and she’d tried to get Rory to kick back by hiding the phone. Maybe she had tried to dig to see the man beneath, to disastrous consequences.

Cinderella came into view, her tail whipping the air like a whisk. She went to call out her dog’s name, but the pooch turned around and ran back to where Rory was emerging on the path that ringed the resort. He wore running shorts, shoes, and (she hoped) sunscreen. His physical beauty dried her throat. His skin was now the color of rich mahogany, and it only made the startling blue of his eyes brighter. Shoulder muscles rippled as he walked in a small circle, his breath coming in sharp bursts. His body glistened with hot sweat running off him in rivers. As if sensing her totally shameful ogling of him, he turned. Their gazes locked and held.

Her nerves tingled at seeing him, and a sizzle of attraction arced between them. Her heart did a strange gallop, and her breath caught at the back of her throat. She broke contact and put the glass of tea on the ground, her fingers trembling. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him walking toward her. She went to stand, but getting out of a hammock was never elegant, and she landed in a heap in front of him.

Fabulous.

“Falling at my feet?”

“Yeah, you wish.”

In a second, she was hauled upright, his hand tightly gripping hers.

She pulled her hands free, ignoring the smack of awareness ripping up her arm. That coupled with the nerves knotting her stomach made her voice sound breathy. “I haven’t seen much of you for three days. Everything okay?” she asked.

Rory had been a ghost. If it wasn’t for the warm coffee pot in the morning and Cinderella sitting by the office door waiting for him when dawn slashed the night sky with ribbons of tangerine, it was as if she’d been here alone.

“Had a lot of stuff going on,” he replied cryptically. She knew by conversations with Simi that he’d been helping with the villagers’ houses. Even some repairs to one of the churches’ roofs had been completed, thanks to Rory.

She nodded.

Silence.

That said it all.

“Well, I’ll see you round.” She picked up the glass of tea.

“Any more pictures you need before I leave? I spoke to Smithy this morning, and he thinks he’ll be back in a few days if he doesn’t make a detour. There’s a yacht that sent out a distress beacon, and he’s on his way there.”

“Yeah, I’ve spoken to him as well.” She tried to smile, but her lips just weren’t into it. “Just think. You’ll be back in L.A. in air-conditioned comfort before you know it.” She clutched the glass tighter.

He blinked and his eyes narrowed as if he didn’t like the way she’d said those words. “So the shots?”

“You’d still be up for that?” A little surprised, she looked up at him and at the mask of indifference he wore so well.

“Yeah,” he said with a frown, “why wouldn’t I be? It’s just play acting.”

For a second, his mask slipped. She caught her breath at the emotion hanging naked in his eyes. He blinked, and it disappeared so fast she wondered if she’d imagined it.

Unsettled, she hugged herself. “That’d be great. Could we just do island stuff? Normal stuff. Not get all dressed up and stuff, but just pictures of us with the people.”

A stunning smile lit his eyes and sent sparkles of sapphire raining over her.

She pulled in a breath. When Rory smiled—really smiled—with his heart and soul, it was heartbreaking in its beauty.

“I’d like that, Zo. I’ve gotten to know a few of the people while I’ve been here. These are good folk. They’d give you the clothes off their back if you needed them, without a question.” He shook his head. “It’s been a long time…” Something weird rippled across his face. “Give me thirty minutes to dump my running gear, shower, and change, and I’ll meet you back here.

…

Twenty minutes later, Zoe walked from her bungalow to where Rory stood waiting for her, standing under the huge magnolia tree. With causal ease and a lazy smile, he looked relaxed in a loose fitting but designer t-shirt in faded blue, and his familiar board shorts hung off his hips. A simple pair of simple rubber flip-flops adorned his feet.

Damn, the man looked fine.

She’d changed into a yellow sundress that skimmed her knees. It was sleeveless with a scooped neckline. Her mother’s silver locket dipped into her cleavage. Jeweled flat flip-flops slapped the ground in a happy symphony when she walked.

He came towards her and stood beside her.

“Let’s grab the bikes. We’ll get more done, and it’s kind of fun.”

He scratched his head. “I’ve never ridden a bike.”

Shock reverberated in her voice. “Never? But that’s not possible. I’m sure I would’ve known that.”

“Yeah, well, Mom and Dad thought cheap tequila was a food group and spent big. We didn’t do gifts and kid stuff in the trailer parks we called home.” He looked kind of embarrassed.

She swallowed over the sudden lump in her throat. He’d never talked much about his past, and she’d learned not to ask. Being only children, they’d been drawn to each other. Both had pasts they’d rather forget. She knew Rory’s mother had been as absent as her own, but while the former had disappeared into liquor bottles, her own mother had died when Zoe was five. Now she was little more than a soft memory, but she’d taught Zoe to ride a bike before she had drifted out of her daughter’s life.

“I’ll teach you, Roars” she said, perking up. “It’ll be fun.”

His hand gripped hers with a fierceness that surprised her.

Startled, she looked up into his burning gaze. The world seemed to fade around them for a few seconds. Her heart did a crazy boom beat, and her breath stalled. She pulled her fingers from his, and on hollow legs she walked the short trip down a trail to a small shed that housed all the maintenance supplies along with half a dozen bikes.

“This is mine.” She pulled out a pink cruiser and rested it against the wall. “This one should do for you.” With a smirk, she pulled out a bike decked out in sparkles. It had a banana seat and an orange flag with a picture of a smiling cartoon cat. “The wrong one got shipped.” She patted the seat. “It’s grown on me.”

“Yeah, right. I’ll take that one.” His arm rested on her shoulder, his chest to her back as he pointed to a black cruiser.

She ignored the slight tremble in her fingers and pulled on her very big—bordering on old lady—pants. She pushed open the door. “Come on. See if you can catch me.”