Husband by the Hour (5 page)

Her color was better now, her breathing steady. Of course, her color wasn't quite as high as it had been when he'd kissed her.

He grinned at the memory. Kissing Hannah Pace was something he should have done a long time ago. Not only for the pleasure it had given him, but because it had left her speechless.

Oh, he'd thought about it. He couldn't be around Hannah for more than five minutes without thinking about kissing her and touching her. She was the kind of woman who lent herself to wicked thoughts – at least in his mind.

He'd wondered if she would resist the kiss and the heat it generated. Passion could be disconcerting if one was used to constantly being in control. He suspected Hannah prided herself on being in control. But she hadn't resisted or pretended not to respond. Even if he hadn't felt the clinging sweetness of her mouth, her fire-filled eyes and uneven breathing had given her away. Yup, kissing Hannah had been a great idea. He'd imagined it would be terrific, and the real thing had been better than any fantasy. He couldn't wait to do it a second time.

He checked on her again, but she was silent and still asleep. Was she dreaming? Was she worrying about what was going to happen? Did she regret her confession?

Hannah had been married. He thought he'd figured her out, but that piece of information had stunned him. Married. He swore under his breath. Why hadn't he known?

"Why does it matter?" he asked himself softly, then decided he didn't want to know the answer.

Married. To whom? Not a cop. She wouldn't have been able to keep that quiet. He would have heard about it – some kind of hint would have surfaced in the past year. He knew all about gossip at a police station. Everyone knew everyone else's business.

Who would Hannah have married and then divorced? A successful businessman with shady dealings? He grimaced. Hannah wasn't the type to get involved with a criminal. That's one of the things he liked best about her – her principles. Of course, those high standards meant she wasn't likely to give him the time of day.

He thought about the assignment he'd been working on. All the hours being alone, the danger, the tension. It was about to end. Just a few more days, maybe a couple of weeks.

He wondered what Hannah would say if he told her the truth. Would she like him more? Respect him? It didn't matter. Until the assignment was over, until the bad guys were in jail, he wasn't telling anyone anything. He wasn't going to risk all that time and effort. He wanted those guys caught.

So Hannah would continue to think he was a criminal and he would let her. Probably best for both of them.

An airline pilot with a girlfriend at every stop? Nick shook his head. He didn't like that scenario, either. He didn't want her ex-husband to have abused her, or cheated on her, or done anything illegal. But if the ex was so perfect, why had they divorced?

His stomach rumbled, reminding him it had been a long time since breakfast. He glanced at the billboards on either side of the multilane freeway, then took the next exit to a fast-food restaurant. He pulled in behind a battered pickup truck with two live caged chickens and a goat tied in the back. He glanced at Hannah. She stirred and blinked sleepily.

She had the best-behaved hair of anyone he knew. At the station she wore it in a bun at the back of her head. No matter what time he went by, whether it was the first five minutes of her shift or the last, every hair was in place. He'd never seen a strand sneak out to drift against her cheek or her neck.

Today she wore a thick braid down her back. Despite fighting a hangover and sleeping for the better part of four hours, she was perfectly groomed. He couldn't help wondering what she would look like all mussed up. Preferably naked, with her hair loose and her eyes heavy with passion.

The stirring in his groin made him shift uncomfortably. Think about something else, he ordered himself.

"Are you hungry?" he asked.

She glanced around. "No, but I should probably eat. Just a hamburger and soda, please."

"Sure." He pulled up to the microphone and placed their order.

"I've been asleep," she said. "You should have woken me."

"Why?"

"So I could spell you on the driving."

"I like to drive."

She leaned back in her seat. "Not surprising. It's a control thing. Men like to drive because it makes them feel in control."

"You learn that in Psych 101?"

"Are you denying it's true?"

"Nope. Just wondering where you got so smart."

One corner of her pretty mouth turned up slightly. "I figured it out all by myself."

"You can drive this afternoon." He wouldn't mind driving the whole way north, but as they got closer to Glenwood, she would get nervous. Driving would help distract her.

They collected their food and headed back on the road. Hannah handed him his burger and drink as he asked for it. He'd eaten in the car before, without help, but he liked her being attentive to him. Male vanity, he thought, grinning. She would probably slug him if she ever discovered what he was thinking.

They passed a sign showing the distances to
San Jose
,
Sacramento
and the state line. He reached for his burger. She snatched it back.

"How fast have you been driving?" she demanded. "Were you speeding?"

"A little."

"More than a little. How fast were you going?"

"I'm not going to tell you." His voice was teasing. "Besides, this car was built for the open road. How could I resist?"

"You didn't even try."

"I try all the time with you, honey, and it doesn't do me a damn bit of good."

Her eyes widened, but she didn't speak. When he reached for his hamburger, she handed it to him, then faced front as if determined to ignore his presence.

He liked teasing her. He figured if he kept at it long enough, she would eventually lighten up. She had to. No one could be so uptight all the time. She might even find out he wasn't such a bad guy.

Perversely, he wanted her to like him for himself. He laughed silently. What a load of bull. If Hannah, or any woman, actually started to care about him, he would run so fast in the opposite direction, he would get road burn on his feet. Even if the thought of settling down tempted him on occasion, he preferred to travel light. If he was honest with himself, part of Hannah's appeal was that she was unreachable. She would never see him as anything but low-life scum.

He finished his burger and took another drink of soda. "Tell me more about your life," he said.

She collected their trash, transferring it all to one bag, then wiped her hands on a napkin. "It's really none of your business."

"You have to give me some personal information. I am going to be pretending to be your husband."

"You already know enough."

She made him work for every point. God, he adored her. "I know about the divorce, but that's not information you want spread around, right?"

She rolled her eyes. "Be serious, Nick. You're supposed to be my first and only husband. You know I was adopted, that I'm a cop. What else is there?"

"How about some information about your childhood? Your adoptive parents. Anything about them?"

She stared out the window. "I was too young to remember much. I don't want to talk about them."

"Okay. School. Your favorite subject."

"I don't remember. I don't think I had one. When I was moved around to different foster homes, I also had to change schools. I don't think this is necessary. It's not as if Louise is going to have a quiz after dinner and want you to recite details from my past."

He knew some of her crankiness came from nerves, but the rest of it was because they were treading close to dangerous territory. He knew all about the child welfare system. Some kids got lucky. Others, like Hannah, got passed around from place to place. He knew about growing up lonely and scared, too. He'd had one parent at home – his father. At times, he thought it would have been better if the old man had just kicked him out and let him make his own way.

Hannah twisted her hands together. Nick wanted to reach out to her, but sensed she wasn't in any mood to accept comfort. She was prickly, but the shell had to be hard to protect a soft heart. While the thought of her actually caring about him was terrifying, he could easily be concerned about
her
. It was safe because there wasn't a chance of it becoming real.

"You grew up in
Los Angeles
?" he asked.

"
Orange
County
."

"College?"

"Yes, I went."

He smiled. "What did you major in?"

"Nick, none of this is important." She crossed and uncrossed her legs.

With a flash of insight, Nick figured it out. Hannah regretted confessing as much as she had to him. She wasn't used to sharing her life with anyone, let alone a man like him. She was afraid he would use the information against her. He wished he could reassure her, but doubted she would believe him. Besides, what was he supposed to say?

"I'm twenty-seven," she said. "A communications officer with the Southport Beach Police Department. I have brown hair and brown eyes. I think that's more than enough personal stuff, don't you?"

"Yeah. And I want to thank you for that revealing glance into your private life. We're going to be a completely believable couple."

She stared at him, wide-eyed. "Of course we will be. All you have to do is follow my lead. I'm a trained police officer. I know how to handle difficult situations. You're a professional con artist, used to thinking on your feet. This is going to be simple. The easiest scam you've ever pulled."

He knew what he was pretending to be. Her assumptions about him proved that his cover had been successful. Still, the remarks stung. As he concentrated on the road, he told himself he was getting too old for this line of work. When the job was finished, he was going to have to rethink his life.

* * *

Welcome To Glenwood.

Hannah stared at the sign and wondered if she was going to throw up. Her stomach, which had calmed down considerably in the afternoon, started acting up again. This time, it wasn't from the aftereffects of alcohol. It was nerves … and fear.

Nick pulled to the side of the road and turned off the engine. "What do you want to do? Find a hotel or find your mother?"

Her throat closed. She couldn't speak. Worse, she couldn't think. She opened her mouth. "I…" She drew in a breath and tried again. "The drive should have taken longer."

He brushed a finger against the side of her cheek. "I know. Sorry."

She shook her head. "It's not your fault." She'd had a turn at the wheel and discovered that his luxury car did make it amazingly easy to speed. "Give me a minute here. I'm not sure what to do." Her voice trembled. What had she been thinking when she decided to come up here? This was all a mistake.

Thoughts tumbled over and over in her mind. What to do? She glanced at Nick. He sat patiently waiting for her to decide. He'd been nice to her all day, even though she'd been difficult. She held back a sigh. She didn't mean to be callous and uncaring. Or so private it came across as paranoid. Even though it had been a lot of years, she had trouble letting go of the past. Trusting people was hard. Trusting someone like him was nearly impossible. But she must have, at least a little, or she wouldn't have brought him with her.

She rubbed her temples. She was putting off the inevitable. "Let's see if we can find my mother's street. If not, we'll check into a hotel and start again in the morning."

"No problem." He started the car and pulled back out on the main road.

Louise had sent directions to where she lived. Hannah pulled out her letter and clicked on the map light. "She rents a room," she said. "I'm guessing it's some kind of nursing home or retirement center. I don't know if that's going to be in a residential area or not."

"Depends on the zoning," Nick said.

She told him where to turn. They drove past a large park. In the twilight, she could just make out a pond with white ducks. Several families had come down to the sloping banks to enjoy the balmy May evening.

Families. Hannah felt a twinge in her chest. She'd been alone most of her life. That's what she was used to. Not depending on anyone. Now she had a mother. Would that change everything?

She spied a street sign. "Make a right here."

The residential area looked like something out of a television movie. Two-story houses with wide porches. Minivans in the driveways, bikes left on lawns. Shouts of laughter drifted into the car. Hannah felt her throat tighten. When Nick gave her hand a squeeze, she didn't push him away. Without wanting to admit it, even to herself, she took comfort in his presence.

They made another turn. The street got wider, the houses farther apart. Two-stories became three.

"Someone has money," she said.

"Maybe it's your mom." He grinned.

She smiled back. "Wouldn't you like that? You could get her involved in one of your land deals."