Wife in Name Only

chapter Five


Rory stared out the office window. He’d given Zoe her space when a phone call was for her. When he’d returned, she was nowhere to be seen. Puffy clouds sat on a forever-blue sky. The sun blazed a comet trail toward the horizon. Must be nearly beer o’clock. He could use the distraction. He turned at the sound of the office door opening. Zoe walked toward him with a thoughtful look on her face and her shoulders hunched. She stood a measured distance between them, behind the office chair. A subtle barrier. A bag swung on her wrist.

“You okay?”

“No, not really.” Her breath came in shivering bursts, like she wanted to say the words but didn’t know how. Her fingers pointed into steeples. It was hard to concentrate when she had that sexy schoolmarm thing coming off her in waves.

“The phone call before was from the editor of Honeymoon in Heaven. Now don’t blow a gasket, but they’re not going to make it. They sustained some damage due to the storm.” She pinned him with her unwavering gaze. “I told them I’ll send a spread for the magazine of you and me and our life here, so you still get your publicity shots, and you’ll still look like Saint Rory and all. They’ve asked if we can do an interview via a webcam in an hour. They’ll load it onto their website for the world to see.”

“So I’d still get my PR?” He released a breath.

“Yeah.”

“But how would we do an interview? Your computer’s an IBM prototype. It doesn’t have a webcam. It struggles to spit out an e-mail.”

“Yeah, poor Herbert. He’s old and tired, but he does try.” She patted the laptop. “Lucky for us there’s a guy in the village who’s back from Auckland University for a month, and he’s all techy. He fixes things when the satellite phone blows up. Anyway, he’s got an Eye Toy that he uses when he wants to FaceTime with his girl back in Auckland. Long story short, he’s leant it to us so that we can do the interview. We can hook it up to Herbert here and hope the satellite phone doesn’t throw a hissy fit and cut out.”

He stared at her.

She looked about as comfortable as a tone-deaf introvert singing the national anthem at a major sporting event. “So if you’re okay with it, can we still do the whole pretend-love thing for the interview and the photos?”

The frown between her brows got deeper.

“We’re going to have to be super convincing, though. Because…,” She glanced at him and then glanced away.

He leaned forward, watching different emotions dart across her face. None of them looked happy. “Because…?”

“I don’t like the Rory I left. The one in front of me now. The speak-up-or-shut-up Rory.”

He absorbed the mental blow. Her eyes stilled on the tic vibrating beneath his left eye. He only got the tic when extremely stressed. Zoe was the only person in the world who understood. She used to lay her fingers under his eye until it stilled.

Her touch had always worked.

Her eyes slowly rose to meet his. He blinked and looked away.

“So we’re back to Photoshop memories, Rory, if that’s okay.”

Something about this sat like quicksand in his brain. He stared at the proud businesswoman in front of him, putting her business above all else.

Just like he did every day.

“That’s fine, Zo.”

He rubbed his temples, trying to erase the pressure building in his head. I need to go for a run.

“So, I thought I could update the photos over the next few days as well as take photos for the magazine, and we could pretend to be, you know, rapt in each other.” She looked pained at the prospect. “But fake rapt, if you know what I mean.”

He couldn’t help but grin. In times of stress, her small town roots came out. She’d worked hard to bury them when they hit L.A, but over the last day he’d noticed that her vowels slipped more and more into her natural sound. It sounded good on her. Natural. “How would we fit my work schedule into your plans?”

She paced the small space. The scent of her coconut sunscreen kick-started his hormones.

“What if we say tomorrow morning you do your spreadsheety, pivoty tables while I get resort stuff done? Tomorrow afternoon we could do the photos, and then the next day we could use the morning to do more photos and stuff. Then in the afternoon you can play corporate capers or hatch another plan to take over the world.” She cocked her head to one side.

He liked this side of Zoe. The fun Zoe who laughed and who looked so…relaxed. He hadn’t seen this side of her in a long time, especially not when she had a stressor hanging over her. Back in California, the whole magazine debacle would have sent her spiraling. But here…

He cleared his throat. “That sounds reasonable. I’ll have unleashed my evil plan onto the world by then and will have started working on the universe. I hear Jupiter is nice this time of year.”

Her laughter rained down on him. Happy, straight-from-the-soul laughter that reminded him how silent it had been the last few years they’d lived together. He’d been too wrapped up in his own world to notice her silence.

“I believe it is. You with your corporate board games and global domination. I never stood a chance at Risk. I’m still more of a Scrabble girl.”

Embarrassment turned her face red. She remembered, too. Their weekly game of Strip Scrabble.

“You used to cheat big time.”

He’d spent hours reading the dictionary and Women’s Weekly.

He sat forward. “Babe, I never cheated. Every word was legit.”

“Like ‘Qat’ is a legal word.” She stared at him like he’d cheated on the SAT.

“I read a freaking gardening magazine to get that word.” At her intake of breath he said, “Swear to God, I read a knitting pattern once, and I nearly grew a vagina.”

Her eyes bugged in her head.

“Anything to get you to shed one piece of clothing at a time.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “You never played by the rules.”

They stood like duelists at dawn. Neither flinching. Both holding the stare.

Feisty Zoe.

Nice.

“I always play by the rules. It’s just that they’re usually mine.” He grinned. “But anyway, I can fake anything, anytime, anywhere.”

“Really?”

He leaned back in the chair and swung his foot onto the desk. “Well, hell yeah. I didn’t get where I am in business today without a few fake blindsides, pretend handshakes, and gilt-edged smiles. If it’s just business then, sure, I’m fine with that.”

Her eyes widened. “Wow. I hope I’m never like that.” Her hand stroked her throat.

“But aren’t you about to do exactly that, Zo? Pretending and faking it with the best of them?”

Silence.

The color washed from her face. Her hand gripped the back of the chair, the knuckles unnaturally white against her tanned skin. “Yeah, I suppose I am,” she whispered after a long pause. Her gaze flew to his. She crossed her arms, pushing her chest up and giving him a nice serving of mocha-colored cleavage. The color slowly edged into her face. “So we’re good? You can pretend we’re in love so that we’ll fool the biggest honeymoon magazine in the world?”

He leaned forward in his chair. “Is that a challenge?”

She arched a brow. “It is. I challenge you to be the most loving honeymoon husband ever.”

Blue clashed with blue.

He broke the connection first. “I take it and meet it. Those people won’t know what hit them. We’ll be wrapped in each other burrito style.”

A thought stopped him dead in the water.

He wanted one thing before he left.

“When we succeed,” —he rolled the pencil between his fingers— “when we take the best photos in the world, appear like we couldn’t be more in love, and answer the reporter’s webcam questions like we’re still honeymooners…I demand a game of strip Scrabble. A fair and square challenge.”

Indecision rolled across her face as if this whole idea was about as appealing as a mouthful of moths.

“You’ll be able to step away from the computer? These photo shoots are important and could take time. And you’ll have to be “on” and not looking at your watch, worrying about your next phone call. You’re not exactly, you know, cuddly.”

“Oh, I’ll make the time, and I’ll get cuddly.” Whatever the hell that meant.

“What do I get out of it?” She held his gaze. He knew she couldn’t resist a challenge. They were both competitive, always had been. He sucked in a breath waiting for her response.

“Name it.” Testosterone fueled his body at the prospect of what she’d come up with.

She paused and stared off into space. “There’s nothing I want that you’ve got.”

That smacked him, hard. A direct hit into his chest. Nothing. Not his money, not his fame. No, all she wanted was to unhitch herself from him.

“See you back here in an hour for fake love webcam style.” A strange look flitted across her face before she turned and walked out of the office.

Soon he was absorbed in tapping out an e-mail and he startled when the door opened and a breathy Zoe entered his space, her hair all shiny and tumbling over her shoulders. She’d changed into a loose lemon dress, and her gold locket that was usually under a t-shirt lay on her chest. Her eyes sparkled and she stopped dead when she looked at him.

“You didn’t change?”

He blinked. “Didn’t bring a suit, Zo. I’m thinking they’ll expect me to look all tropical.”

“Yeah, but you could have shaved, you look all pirate-y.”

“Just need a parrot, an eye-patch, and a wooden leg, and I’ll be good.” He half-smiled. With a hand he indicated to where the Eye Toy sat on a bookcase, trained on them. “I set up the Eye Toy. Standing here should get us both in.” He put his hands on his hips and stared at the technology. “Gotta tell ya, I’ve done a couple of tests and it’s dropped quite a few times.” He shook his head. “The coverage here is crap at best.”

“We’ll get it done.” Determination laced her words. “We both need this PR so we’ll have to be freaking awesome when we’re on camera.” She cocked her head to one side. She thrust out her hand. A business handshake? Really? He laced his fingers with hers and pulled her to his chest. He released her hands, placed his against her lower back, and felt her body quiver.

“We’re supposed to be husband and wife. I don’t think a handshake is going to cut it for the cameras.”

Her breath escaped her lips in an ‘O’.

She melted into him.

His heart slowed as it fell in sync with hers. Then it raced. He stared down at her, his fingers flexed against her lower back.

He breathed her in.

“Zo,” he murmured into her hair, feeling her scalp tighten.

“Yeah,” she whispered, her cheek still pressed against his chest. She clutched his t shirt tighter.

“We’re on in two minutes. Although we could delay for a while if you want.”

Instantly she moved back, and he released her. She tucked her hair behind her ear. Her face was scarlet. Heat poured out of her and straight into him, blistering his insides.

He pulled his hand through his hair. “Jesus, Zo, the things you do to a man.”

She looked up at him with glazed eyes. He knew by the dreamy look on her face what she was thinking. His body did a full twitch just looking at her.

“Can you get it turned on and working?” she asked breathily.

He cocked an eyebrow. “Yeah, I can get it turned on and working.”

Her eyes widened before she swatted him. “Stop it. You know what I meant.”

“Babe, I know exactly what you mean. FYI, I’m a guy. We’re always turned on and working.”

The phone crackled to life and the red light on the Eye Toy flicked on.

The face of a slightly harassed woman filled the computer screen. Piercing brown eyes appraised them. Dark brows pulled into a frown.

“Rory and Zoe Hughes?” Her voice crackled across the miles.

“Yeah, that’s us.” He pulled his wife to his side, wrapping his hand around her shoulder and ignoring her sharp intake of breath. “Fake it, Zo,” he whispered into her ear.

Her hand snaked around his back and curled into his hip, her head on his shoulder.

“Thank you for taking the time to answer my questions.” The reporter appeared to adjust some papers in front of her just as a burst of static filled the screen.

“I’m curious along with our readers, Rory, how you manage to make the relationship work when your head office is in L.A. You travel so extensively and don’t get to Tonga very often.”

“Phone sex,” he said without hesitation.

Zoe stiffened beside him, and she pulled in a breath through her teeth.

“Phone sex?” The reporter repeated.

“Yeah. Every night I call Zoe and we have mind-blowing phone sex. Sometimes it lasts for hours. And I mean hours…”

Zoe’s fingers wrapped around his wrist, her nails trying to find bone.

“Nothing like hearing my wife come,” he whispered. Quiet enough that the reporter couldn’t hear…Or so he thought.

“We may have to amend your reply, but I’m sure our readers will appreciate your honesty.” The dark eyes left his and moved right. “Is that right, Zoe?”

She stilled her body tight then she melted into him. “Absolutely,” she replied. “When Rory’s traveling and he phones, every night, I tell him exactly what I imagine him doing to me, in detail. And I mean in detail. I love hearing his low moan across the miles as we get it on. It gets me through some long, lonely nights.”

“F*ck, Zo,” Rory murmured in her ear, his body about to explode.

“You started it.” She tipped her head back and brushed her mouth against his. Her pupils dilated.

A blast of static hit the phone, and the computer screen went blank.

Her face lost its soft sexy glow. “Seriously?” she said, pushing him away, her hands on her hips, her face flushed, her erect nipples pushing against her bra. Her blue eyes were spitting.

“Yeah, thought it broke the ice, since, you know, we’re supposed to be like honeymooners and all.” His gaze swept over her. “Babe, you’re as turned on as I am.”

“I am not.” She reached into her dress and adjusted her bra strap. She came right up into his space, her flinty eyes appraising. “I’m just not comfortable with this.”

He frowned. “Kind of what we’re selling here, Zo.”

“Yeah, well, I just didn’t think we’d start like that.”

He pushed his hands deep into his pockets. “Better than trying to sell emotions, don’t you think?”

She looked at him with emotion washing across her face before she shut it down. “Yeah, that’s true.”

She crossed her arms and stared out the window. He followed her gaze. Palm trees danced an invisible waltz with the afternoon breeze. Crystal waves landed with a sigh on the shore and retreated.

A blast of static cut across the screen and the reporter’s face returned.

“Looks like we’re going to have technical issues going forward, so I’ll quickly ask my next questions. I’d like to open them up to the floor so either of you can answer.”

As if sensing the tension in the small room, the reporter asked, a frown on her face, “Is everything ok? You guys look a little tense.”

He needed good PR. So did Zoe.

“We need this,” he whispered into her ear. “Think of the resort.”

She nodded and inched towards him. He inhaled her jasmine scent and relaxed.

“Yeah, we’re good. Please ask away. I’m good to go. You?” He looked down at Zoe, her arms across her chest and her body stiff. He edged closer and whispered into her ear. “It’s just for show. Melt into me, babe.”

Without hesitation, her hand wrapped around his waist, and she went soft against him. Her body molded against his in a perfect fit.

Her eyes were wary.

The reporter beamed across the miles. “What would you say is the key to a successful marriage? Rory? Your nickname in the business world is the Ice Man. Our readers are keen to know what your views are on finding balance.”

“Knowing my wife will be there no matter what. We talk and work through our problems. We make time for each other. Even apart we’re never apart, not really.”

Static again filled the air. Zoe looked up at him. “You’re good, Rory. I even believed you. She’ll never know that we haven’t spoken in over a year,” she said quietly.

His eyes cut to hers. Emotion rippled across her face before she turned away. The reporter’s face crackled and hissed into view.

“This will be the last question as we’re having bad connection problems. What is the best gift you’ve ever received from your partner?

“I’ll take that if I may,” Zoe said, staring up at him. She stilled as if collecting herself before continuing. “When we first moved to L.A., we had very little money. At one stage we only had enough to buy pasta, which we’d eat boiled with no sauce. On my birthday, Rory made me a bracelet with all the Monopoly pieces. He’d laced together copper left over from the construction site and had attached the hat, the iron, the dog, even a little green house and a red hotel with tiny holes drilled in them that attached to the bracelet with fuse wire. He said the bracelet symbolized our humble beginnings, but when we left Baltic Ave and moved to Boardwalk, we should always remember where we came from. Our roots.” She looked up at him, a blank look in her eyes.

He blinked as her words penetrated. He’d forgotten about the bracelet. He’d forgotten the joy in her eyes when she’d opened the box and squealed in delight. Then she’d burst into tears at the same time. He’d forgotten how much making that bracelet had meant to him, to her . . . .

He turned away, his insides shredded.

Silence filled the airwaves.

“Thank you for your candor. I look forward to the photos of both of you in Last Stop, Paradise. Send me the photos as soon as possible. I’m thinking we’ll lead with the title, Perfection in Paradise: The It Couple with it All.

Static filled the screen.

“Thank God that’s over,” he said, moving away from Zoe. Too many thoughts, none of them good, cluttered his head. He ran a hand through his hair.

“Do you think we pulled it off?” she looked up at him with eyes wide.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “We’re going to have to sell being the ‘totally in love’ couple in the photos.”

She bit her lip and turned away. “Yeah,” she said in a long sigh.

He blinked. “Zo, if we’re going to be on the same page with this stuff, if I’m going to be your honeymoon husband, then I’m going to need to sleep in your bed.”

Indecision and determination were a potent mix on her face. “No.” The word shot out of her like a sawed-off shotgun.

“Babe, we haven’t been around each other in a year.” He advanced and she stepped back. “We don’t know each other anymore. If we’re going to make this work—and we both want this to work—then we’re going to have to get to know each other all over again.” He paused, letting his words seep in. “And that starts with waking up next to each other. Having breakfast together. Reading in the same bed. Starting tomorrow.” She stood frozen, her face white. He inched forward again and added, “I’ll be reading a spreadsheet or an e-mail if your computer can spit one out.” Out of habit, he tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

“I really don’t think we need that level of intimacy for a photo shoot. Can’t we pretend to be models and fake all the happiness?” She unfroze and planted her hands on her hips. “Surely sharing a bed is extreme.”

“I’ve studied your brochure and read up on your resort. You have good reviews, but you’ve sold it as you and me having the perfect marriage. That we’re still living the honeymoon. Friggin’ amazing that no one noticed I wasn’t here, but you seemed to have done a good job of explaining me away.”

“You were far enough away for people not to know who you are. It’s not like I get repeat business. Besides, you were always on the next yacht or plane. They always just missed you.”

“I want you to succeed in business. I get that this means a lot of exposure to the resort, and I could use the good PR. I’ve had a lot of bad press lately. But in order to do that, I think we have to put strategies in place to guarantee success. That starts with us being together—really together—for the time I’m here.”

She cocked her head to one side. “You sound like a marketing guru. I can work with that. Make it all about business.”

Her face cleared and brightened. “We’ll just have to put a barrier between us. Pillows. You’ll have your side, and I’ll have mine. It’s a king bed so there shouldn’t be a problem.” She shot him a dark glance. “As long as you stick to the rules.”

He held up his hands in surrender. “Babe, I’m all about rules. Besides, we only have to do this until Smithy makes it back here. I have to get back. I’ve got deals in place that I need to execute. I need to get back. I’ll probably work through most of the nights because I have a shit-load I need to get done.”

She stared at him, and her eyes widened.

It was as if she’d glanced at a little piece of his soul and didn’t like what she’d seen.

He turned away.

His soul wasn’t a place filled with bouncing lambs and sunshine.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He knew he sounded harsh. Knew he sounded like a jerk. But something was eating at him, and he didn’t know what it was.

She jumped back at his severe tone with a what the hell is your problem look on her face. She turned and walked out the door without a backwards glance.

He caught her words as they hovered on the breeze. “Ten friggin’ longest days of my life.”

He ignored the sudden clench on his heart and dived back into work mode, but not before he muttered to her retreating back, “Back at ya.”

…

“I know it was here.” Zoe spoke to the empty hook where Cinder’s leash should be. After leaving Rory, she’d refused to allow herself to be drawn into his pissy, barking mood. That was the man she’d left and didn’t miss at all. Now she just wanted to take Cinderella for a walk, get some fresh air, and clear her head of all things Rory.

She just had to find the leash first. Where was it? With strangers constantly arriving, and not knowing if they were dog friendly, she kept Cinder in a run at the back of the house, and she always left her leash on this hook. Always.

Coldness seeped into her bones, loosening her knees when she considered who might have moved it.

“Cinderella,” she called, her voice sounding uncomfortably high. She gripped the door. Her dog raced toward her from under her favorite nearby bush, her tail wagging and her single remaining eye filled with love.

“Hey, you.” She knelt down and hugged her dog.

It’s just me. I’ve just put it in the wrong place, and now I’m getting all weird about it.

She pulled open drawers, checked cupboards.

She should wait until tomorrow, but something nagged at her.

With her dog following, she walked toward the office.

A warm breeze kissed her cheek. She lifted her heavy hair and let the slight wind cool the back of her neck. The path baked by the sun warmed her feet.

She opened the door of the office and watched Rory peck out an e-mail, his two fingers flying over the keyboard, his expression dark.

“Rory, have you seen Cinderella’s leash? It’s red and has rhinestones and sparkles on it, and it really pops.”

He stared at her in that total unseeing way he had when he was completely absorbed. His eyes cut to her, but he didn’t see her.

“No,” he replied and went back to typing.

She wandered to the kitchen and fixed herself a sandwich for dinner. Her stomach had been growling for food, but now the thought of eating anything turned her cold.

I’m being an idiot and imagining things that just aren’t there.

She wandered back to her bungalow, turned the seven locks on the door, gave Cinderella a hug, and was rewarded with a lick to her face before Cinders circled three times and sat with a grunt on her oversized pillow bed.

Zoe crawled into crisp sheets. The thought of Rory sharing her bed dumped a bucket of icy reality over her. She’d build the Great Wall of China of pillows between them. Having a life-size Rudy, only with more muscles than batteries, in her bed—a man who was into hot and happening sex without consequences and emotions—could make for some restless nights.