WIFE FOR HIRE Read online

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  Contents:

  1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

  Epilogue

  © 2000

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  One

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  River Willow Plantation Aiken, South Carolina

  She had a rubber chicken stuck in the grillwork of her car.

  The webbed feet flopped with every bump, the chicken looking as if it was being strangled and fried for supper, with all the smoke coming from the exhaust.

  Nash Rayburn's lips twitched with amusement. "At least she has a sense of humor," he muttered to himself, then glanced down at his daughters. They were grinning widely. A good sign, he thought, nudging his hat back and bracing his shoulder on the porch post. He hooked his thumbs in his belt loops.

  This was his wife for hire?

  The dust-covered car rattled to a stop about twenty yards away and choked for a full twenty seconds after she shut the engine off and climbed out. Nash felt an instant pull in his gut the moment shapely bare legs first appeared and touched the ground.

  Strike one. She was pretty. No, downright adorable, reminding him of a fairy in a story his mama told him when he was a kid. Her eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses, she had gleaming short dark-red hair and a body that was graceful and voluptuous. That pull tightened in places he didn't want to acknowledge.

  Strike two.

  He'd told the agency he didn't want anyone who'd distract the ranch hands. Now a petite full-breasted slim-hipped woman was coming straight toward him. And her Cadillac walk was so sexy he had the urge to cover his daughters' eyes. Damn. A scoop-neck navy blue T-shirt, a short denim skirt and a pair of high heeled sandals had never looked that good on his late wife.

  "Oh, goody, she's not old," Kim said as if it was a crime to be over ten. "She can play games with us."

  Nash glanced down at his twin girls. "Mrs. Winslow plays games."

  The two made faces at him. "Board games and stuff. She just watches us mostly," Kate said, looking at the woman. "She looks nice, huh, Daddy?"

  Breathtaking, he thought, and hoped his voice didn't show it. "Yes, peanut, very nice."

  Ten yards away, the woman's steps slowed to a stop, and Nash felt suddenly uneasy, a sense of familiarity hitting him. His gaze swept over her, searching for a connection.

  "Nash?"

  His blood froze and he straightened. He'd know that voice anywhere. Hayley Albright. His Hayley. "What are you doing here?"

  She cocked one hip, her fingers tightening on the strap of a beat-up leather handbag slung on her shoulder. "If this is Katherine's idea of a joke, I don't like it."

  "Me, neither." Nash's insides twisted, his heart pressing against his ribs. Seven years ago he'd loved this woman. And seven years ago he'd betrayed that love and married another. He could never tell her why. Never. Yet one look at her and every cell in his body reacted, screaming for her. His blood grew hot and heavy in his veins as he stepped off the porch, walking toward her. It had always been like that, so good it was almost painful to be near her. She was the kind of woman who made heads turn as much for her confidence as for her beauty. The kind who made you smile just because she smiled.

  The kind he'd wanted to marry.

  Hayley felt memories of her past flow back as he neared, meshing with the old pain. She tried to push them aside, tried to gather her composure, but he was looking at her the way he had years ago. As if he wanted to devour her whole. It made her knees weak. She wanted to turn back to her car and drive away to avoid opening this part of her past again. It hurt too much. When he approached and stopped directly in front of her, the urge to throw herself into his arms made her eyes sting. It made her see that even if she told herself she was over him, she wasn't. Not by a long shot. Out of sight didn't mean out of mind—or heart. And if she stayed, she'd be in trouble.

  Then he plucked off her sunglasses.

  She snatched them back and met his gaze head on, searching for the man she once loved.

  "You're working for Katherine's company?"

  "A girl's got to make a living."

  His lips flattened to a thin line. "What about your dream to be a doctor?"

  She hitched up her handbag and said, "Still there. I just finished my internship. After a two-week break, I'll go back to St. Anthony's Hospital to begin my residency."

  "That's great." His smile was slight, bitter, and Hayley felt as if she'd been kicked in the stomach. Her need to be a doctor and his need to have her abandon her goal in order to be his wife had torn holes in their love and sent him into the arms of another woman.

  "Somehow I don't think that's what you really mean," she said.

  His gaze narrowed. "I never wanted you to fail, Hayley."

  "No, just dump my dreams for yours."

  His features yanked taut. This conversation was just too difficult for public discussion, for what he was feeling, what he wanted to say to her. What he wanted to do with her. He caught the scent of jasmine, feeling it sing through his veins and make him ache to hold her. "It is good to see you."

  The low tone of his voice evoked heat and the sensation of being safely wrapped in warmth. "Good to be seen," she managed and searched his face for any changes. They were minor, for he'd aged beautifully, the lines in his face giving it more character, a harder look than she remembered. At thirty-five he was as handsome as he was when she'd first seen him at a college mixer in her senior year. He'd arrived with his friend Katherine Davenport, Hayley's sorority sister, mentor and owner of Wife Incorporated, just as a favor, and he'd left with Hayley. He was the older man, rich and powerful, who'd swept her off her feet and into his strong capable arms. She sighed, pushing the memory down where it belonged. She'd been a fool, falling for him hook, line and sinker, and she wasn't about to let it happen again.

  They stared at each other for a moment longer before Hayley asked the one question she didn't want to say. "So, where's Michelle?"

  His features hardened. "She'd dead, Hayley. Killed in a car accident four years ago."

  "I'm sorry." She was. Hayley might have a grudge against Michelle and Nash, but she certainly didn't wish his wife dead.

  "You know her, Daddy?" a voice asked.

  Hayley stepped away and looked at the girls standing on the porch. While her assignment sheet offered only a street address, not a name—which she'd rail at Kat later for omitting—the job was detailed and she'd expected children. She smiled and waved. "Oh, Nash," she said softly, in a tone full of surprise. "They look just like you."

  He didn't take his eyes off her, enjoying her unrestrained smile. "I don't know if that's good or bad."

  She glanced. "Good," she said honestly as the twins trotted down the wide Federal steps and flanked their father.

  "These two beauties," he said, ruffling the top of one dark head, "are Kim and Kate."

  "I'm Hayley," she said, and shook their little hands. "And yes, your daddy and I are old friends." She gave them a conspiratorial wink that made the five-year-olds giggle.

  Nash felt the tension leave her body as if he owned her skin, and he was glad that any animosity she had for him didn't spill over to his girls. How were they going to work this out? How long could he stand having her in his house, living with him, seeing her every day and knowing she hated him? It was a humiliation he'd continue to bear in silence. Keeping the truth from her would keep any feelings from being resurrected, he decided. And asking her to leave would be his best bet.

  She swung her gaze to his, tipped her head to the side as if studying a painting. Her lips curved into a soft smile that caught him in the gut and threatened the seams of his anger.

  Hayley sensed it and frowned. What did he have to be so mad about? She was the one who was jilted, while he'
d had everything he wanted. A beautiful wife with culture, wealth and the same refinement he possessed. A perfect complement to the rich powerful landowner he'd become. "I can see you're not happy about this," she said, "so how about I call Kat and have another wife for hire here by morning?"

  His eyes flared. The challenge was there. Nash had to admire her for it. Even when he wanted her gone. Just seeing her made his mistakes more pronounced. They felt like a knife in his side, and every time their eyes met, it twisted.

  "Did you like our daddy?" one of the twins interjected.

  Their curiosity was open and charming, yet Hayley could feel their father tense, feel his eyes on her as she looked down at the girls. "I thought he was the handsomest man on earth."

  The twins giggled again, huddling closer. Nash glanced down and their smiles fell a little. He supposed he deserved their retreat with the way he'd been barking at them all week; but Mrs. Winslow was off sick, and he had hundreds of horses, cattle, pigs, chickens and two brunette mischief makers roaming where they weren't supposed to. Plus he'd had all his other duties to attend to. Bless their hearts, he loved his babies, but they were a full-time job. He eyed Hayley, wondering if she could keep up with his pair of tornadoes.

  "I can handle the situation," Nash said. "Can you?"

  The challenge was there, she thought. He should know better than to dare her. "No sweat."

  "Fine," he said, then turned and walked toward the house.

  "Ooh, attitude already."

  He paused and looked back at her, arching a dark brow. She smiled brightly, motioning for him to lead the way. The twins were already stuck to her side and sharing secrets. Great. Outnumbered already, he thought sourly, pushing open the front door. He stepped into the coolness of the house, the girls skipping past him into the den and clicking on the television.

  He tossed his hat onto the side table and ran his fingers through his dark hair. "Turn it down a notch, will you, girls?" They did as he asked without a look back.

  Nash stared down at Hayley, watching her gaze move over the foyer, the large open living room beyond, the furnishings, then to the left to the hall leading to the bedrooms and second floor. To the right lay a combination kitchen, dining area and den, or what real-estate agents called a Carolina room, and he searched her expression for a reaction, then wondered why he bothered.

  She brought her gaze back to his. "Nice digs, Nash."

  He eyed her. "Thanks."

  "So, what's first?"

  He inclined his head toward the kitchen. "What did the agency tell you?" he said as he walked.

  "That you needed a temporary wife and all-around kid wrangler for two little girls."

  He stilled and snapped a black look back over his shoulder. "I don't need a wife."

  Hayley blinked, frowning. "I was speaking figuratively, Nash."

  His gaze swept over her thoroughly, and she stared back, dropping her hand to her hip and waiting for him to continue. This ought to be good, she thought.

  "The plantation needs a cook and housekeeper, and my daughters need supervision. Household chores are Mrs. Winslow's and now they're yours. The girls have chores, too. The list is on the fridge." He faced her. "This is temporary, and if I could manage without help, I would. Understand?"

  "Quite well, as a matter of fact." There was no room in his life for her other than as the domestic help, and he'd just made it crystal clear.

  "And the cooking is for seven ranch hands, too."

  She shrugged. "Two, five, ten, it doesn't matter. As long as there's food to prepare."

  He eyed her skeptically. "I don't recall you being much of a cook."

  "A lot has changed in seven years, Nash."

  Her mysterious smile set him on edge, and the question about where she'd been, what she'd been doing besides graduate study, nagged at him. But he was determined to keep this relationship strictly business. Even if she was still sexy enough to make his jeans feel crowded.

  "I guess we'll get to see that, won't we?" His words snapped off with the bite of lash.

  She frowned. This wasn't the Nash she remembered. This man was hard on the inside, apparently, as well as the outside. He never once smiled and he was the epitome of tall, dark and brooding. She half expected him to whip out a sword, draw a line in the carpet and dare her to cross it. His stare was intense, deep blue—and having far too powerful an effect on her.

  "No, taste it." Her brow knit. "If you doubt me, then why did you agree to have me stay?"

  "I'm short on time and you're here."

  "Gee. Thanks for throwing a bone my way."

  Nash sighed and ran his fingers through his hair again. How was he going to last two weeks when he all he wanted to do was kiss her senseless? "I didn't mean it that way."

  "Look, Nash. We have a past and it's over and dead. You have no real reason to be upset with me…" She let the sentence hang, implying that she alone had reason. "If I'm going to work for you, don't you think you could cut me some slack?"

  His gaze darkened, raked her with the same heat as when she first saw him. She ought to be immune to a look like that. She wasn't. It didn't help that it was hidden in anger, or that she had to crane her neck to look up at him, making her feel like a shrimp in an ocean of sharks. Or that he filled out that black T-shirt rather well after all these years. And for a split second she remembered what he looked like without a stitch.

  Uh-oh, this was not in her plan, she thought, trying to focus as he described duties and meal preferences. He moved through the large kitchen to the laundry room, which was stacked with soiled clothes, then back around into the Carolina room. Pausing to check on what his daughters were watching on TV, he headed toward the hall. She followed.

  "My office, and off-limits." He gestured without looking back at her.

  "Aye, aye, Captain."

  He cast her a sharp glance. She blinked sweetly and motioned for him to proceed.

  He walked, pointing out the steep staircase leading to the girls' rooms on the second floor, informing her that Mrs. Winslow went home to her son's each evening unless work took Nash into the night. He stopped before a door, turned the knob, pushed, then leaned back against the frame, waiting.

  "Your room."

  She looked. It was a normal guest bedroom, neutral decor, bright with sunlight. Was he waiting for her to disapprove of something? She hadn't had a room to call her own until college, but walls meant little to Hayley; it was what was inside them that mattered. "This is fine." She hurled her bag onto the bed, kicked off her shoes and looked at him. Wonderful. He was now another two inches taller.

  "I suppose you have work to do. I'll get started." She walked back down the hall.

  Nash blinked and straightened. "Don't you need…?"

  She glanced over her shoulder, enjoying his confusion. "What? More instructions? That's not why you hired me. The agency gave me a thorough job description. Go do whatever it is you do on a horse ranch or plantation or whatever." She waved toward the door as she walked into the living room. "We'll be fine. Won't we, girls?"

  The twins spun on the sofa, peering over the back of it like squirrels. Hayley winked. They were button cute and itching with energy they'd obviously learned to curtail around their dad. Their gazes shifted to him, then to her.

  "Would you like me to fix you some lunch or something before you go?" Hayley asked Nash.

  "No." Nash had the feeling he was being dismissed in his own house. "Chow's usually at sundown."

  "It'll be ready."

  His look said he doubted that as he grabbed his hat, eyed her briefly, then crossed to the sofa, sinking between his daughters and pulling them onto his lap. "I wish I could hang around with you." He made an exaggerated sad face and they giggled.

  "Horses won't get fed," Kate said.

  "Then they'll be too stubborn to sell," her sister added. "We'll be okay."

  They were so grown-up about this, and Nash's chest tightened. "Behave. No mischief like yesterday."


  They blushed. "Yup." He eyed them. "Yes, Daddy," they chimed.

  "Promise?" He held up his little finger, and his daughters hooked theirs around his and nodded. He grinned, kissed them, then shifted them off his lap.

  Hayley felt like the outsider she was and wished she'd been that close to her father at that age. She'd lost her mom when she was seven, and her father, being a salesman, dragged her all over the country. She met many people, saw wonderful sights, but never knew permanence, never had a home until the sorority house in college. If the twins weren't so cute she could almost envy them. They'd grown up in this house with the same people around them, and would probably marry local boys and have their weddings right here. Her heart jerked. Were Michelle and Nash married here? She warned herself not to go there. It was too painful to even ask. And it was the past. Why open up the wound?

  Nash crossed to her and for a second he just stared, then said, "Those girls are my life, Hayley."

  His heart was on his sleeve just then, and Hayley was touched by the depth of his feelings for his daughters. "I'll take good care of them, I promise," she said.

  He nodded briskly and left.

  Hayley sighed, a little too drained around that man. She looked at the girls. "There's a lot of work to do. So you can either sit there and watch TV for the next hour, fry a few more brain cells, or you can lend a hand and we'll have some fun later. Whaddaya say?"

  "What kind of fun?"

  Hayley looked thoughtful. "I think this should be a group decision."

  They were off the sofa in less time than it took to take a breath, following her like mice to cheese.

  "That your new wife, boss?"

  Nash didn't respond to the ranch hand's comment and continued walking toward the barn, yanking his gloves from his back pocket.

  "I thought mail-order brides went out in the nineteenth century," Seth snickered.

  "Y'all must have your work done if you're sitting on your butts, right?" Nash said, pulling on the gloves.

  Young Beau hopped off the back of the truck and hefted another hay bale onto the bed.