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And he had the nagging feeling that maybe she wasn’t the liar and cheat he thought she was. Even a practiced con artist would have a hard time worming her way into Simon’s heart, which she had obviously done. Not to mention what she’d pulled last night.
Building that wall of pillows between them hadn’t been the act of an adept thief. She’d behaved more like a vestal virgin trying to protect her virtue from a marauding horde. So what the hell was really going on? Who was she, really?
What if he was wrong about her? Well, he told himself firmly, for one thing, he didn’t want to be wrong about her. It would make this so much easier if she was just what he suspected she was. In it for the money. But then, even if the five million dollars was her sole motivation, she was now faced with living the lie she’d built.
Couldn’t be comfortable for her, either.
So did he give her the benefit of the doubt? Or did he continue to make both of them miserable for a full month? Neither, he decided. He’d give her enough rope, then stand back to see if she actually hanged herself with it. He could be patient. Hell, his training, his job, his life usually demanded patience. So he’d back off on the verbal attacks and see how she reacted.
“You’re right,” he said at last and had the pleasure of seeing surprise flicker across her face. “I’m sorry.”
She studied him for a long second or two, obviously trying to decide if he meant it or not. But finally, she nodded. “It’s okay. It’s a weird situation. For both of us.”
“Just what I was thinking.” Interesting. Be a little more accommodating, and she was far less prickly.
“So. Truce?” she asked.
“Maybe,” he said thoughtfully. “I’ll let you know when we’re finished shopping.”
“Hunter…”
He shook his head. He wasn’t going to let go of this one. “My wife doesn’t dress like that,” he said, waving one arm to indicate the hideous suit she seemed so attached to. “I’m not going to have everyone in town wondering why in the hell I won’t buy you new clothes. You want to play the part of Mrs. Cabot? You’ll do it looking a hell of a lot better than this.”
She lifted her chin and glared at him, but whatever she was going to say remained unuttered.
“Good choice,” he said with a brief nod. “You’re not going to win this one.”
Margie felt Hunter’s hand on the small of her back as clearly as if it were a live electrical wire. Spears of heat as wild and unpredictable as lightning bolts kept shooting through her system, and it was all she could do to walk and talk despite the distractions.
Main Street in Springville was waking up after a winter that had been cold and gray and bleak. Now in springtime, the sun shone out of a brilliantly blue sky, a cool wind danced down the street and bright bursts of flowers filled the planters at the feet of the street lamps. Colorful awnings stretched out over the sidewalk in front of the stores, and clusters of neighbors gathered together to chat.
She loved this town. Had from the moment she’d first arrived two years before. It was like a postcard of small-town American life. A flag waved in the center of town square, moms with strollers sat on benches, laughing at toddlers wobbling around on the grass, and the scent of fresh bread baking drifted through the bakery’s open door.
After growing up in Los Angeles, just one more face in an anonymous crowd, coming to Springville was like finding an old friend. She belonged here. She fit in. Or at least, she told herself with a sidelong glance at the man beside her, she used to.
Now, she knew that she wouldn’t be able to stay once this month with Hunter was up. She’d have to leave this town, these people, even Simon, the grandfather she’d come to love. Because staying after the divorce would be impossible. She wouldn’t be able to stand the pitying looks from her friends. She wouldn’t be able to answer the questions everyone would have.
And mostly, she wouldn’t be able to stay in the place where all of her lovely fantasies had died.
“Still say we should have gone to the city,” Hunter murmured, then waved at someone across the street.
Margie shook her head. She’d agreed, finally, to shopping, but had insisted that they do their buying in town. “You’re a Cabot,” she said for the third time. “You should support the local businesses.”
“You make me sound like a king or something. What does being a Cabot have to do with where I shop?” His voice was low, but she had no trouble hearing him. In fact, Margie had the distinct feeling that she would always be able to concentrate easily on the deep rumble of his voice.
In just twenty-four hours, she’d already become attuned to him. Oh, God. What a mess.
She smiled and nodded at an older woman they passed on the sidewalk, then muttered, “Your family built this town. The headquarters of your business is here. You employ half the people who live here.”
“Not me,” he insisted, “Simon.”
“The Cabots,” she reminded him.
“Oh, for—”
“Hunter!”
“Now what?” he muttered, stopping and draping one arm around Margie’s shoulder.
They’d already been stopped countless times by people excited to see Hunter back home. The heavy weight of his arm on her felt both comforting and like a set of shackles, binding her to his side. And how was that possible? How could she feel desire for the very man who was making her life a misery?
A young couple, James and Annie Drake, holding hands as they hurried up the sidewalk, grinned at Hunter and Margie as they approached. The man had brown hair and thick glasses, and his grin was reflected in his eyes. “Hi Margie. Hunter, it’s good to see you back.”
“Good to be back, James,” he said, and the tone of his voice was almost convincing.
Except that Margie knew he didn’t really want to be here. So who, she wondered, was acting now?
“Annie, good to see you, too. How’re the kids?”
“Oh, they’re fine,” the tall blond woman said, smiling at Margie. “Just ask your wife. She helped me ride herd on them during the last council meeting.”
“It was no trouble,” Margie put in, remembering the three-year-old twins, who were like tiny tornadoes.
“Is that right?” Hunter asked.
“Don’t know what this town did without her,” Annie said. “She’s helped everyone so much. And she has so many amazing ideas!”
Margie gave her friend a wan smile and wished Annie would be quiet. She could feel the tension in Hunter’s arm, and it was getting tighter.
“Oh, now that I believe,” Hunter said with a squeeze of her shoulders. “She’s just full of surprises.”
“Oh, yeah,” James added, “Margie’s a wonder.”
“So I keep hearing.”
Hunter’s arm around her shoulders tightened further, and Margie deliberately leaned into him, making his gesture seem more romantic than he meant it to be. The fact that the moment she was pressed to his side, heat spiraled through her system like an out-of-control wildfire was just something she’d have to keep to herself.
“Well, we know you’re busy,” James was saying. “We just spotted you and wanted to thank you personally for everything you’re doing for the town. Folks really appreciate it.”
“Yeah,” Hunter said thoughtfully. “About that…”
Was he going to admit to these nice people that he hadn’t had a thing to do with making their lives better? Would he tell them that Margie had been making up his involvement?
Annie interrupted him. “Just having the new day care center at Cabot headquarters has been a godsend,” she said, slapping one hand to the center of her chest as if taking an oath. “Margie told all of us how important you felt it was that the mothers who worked for you be able to leave their kids in a safe place. Somewhere close where the moms could work and still be close to their children.”
“Did she?”
Margie felt Hunter’s gaze on her but didn’t turn her head up to look at him, afraid she’d see anger or disgust or impatience in those cool blue eyes of his.
Tears swamped Annie’s eyes, but she blinked them away with a laugh. “God, look at me. Getting all teary over this! It just means a lot to all of us, Hunter. I mean, I need the job, but having the kids nearby makes working so much easier on me.”
“Good,” he murmured. “That’s real good, Annie, but the thing is…”
“See, honey,” Margie said quickly, determined to stop Hunter before he could disavow himself of everything these people were feeling. “I told you, everyone in town is so pleased that you’re taking an active interest in Springville.”
“She’s right about that,” James said. “Why, the newly redone Little League field and all of the flowers planted along Main Street…” He stopped and shook his head. “Well, it just means something to know that the Cabots are still attached to the town they built, that’s all.”
“Hunter’s happy to do it,” Margie told them, smiling and leaning even harder into her husband’s side.
“We just wanted to thank you in person,” James said, tugging his wife’s hand. “Now, we’ve got to run. Annie’s mom is watching our two little monsters, and she’s probably ready to tear her hair out by now.” Nodding, he said, “It really is good to see you, Hunter.”
“Right. Thanks.” Hunter stood stock-still on the sidewalk as the happy couple hurried off, and Margie felt the tension in him through the heavy arm he kept firmly around her shoulders.
“Well,” Margie said softly, trying—and failing—to peel herself off Hunter, “I suppose we’d better go on to Carla’s Dress Shop now.”
“In a minute,” Hunter said, tightening his arm around her until she could have sworn she could feel every one of his ribs, every ounce of muscle, every drop of heat pouring from his body into hers. “First, I want you to answer something for me.”
She swallowed hard, tipped her face up to his and found herself caught in his gaze. “What?”
“Why’d you do it?” he asked, features stony, eyes giving away nothing of what he was feeling. “Why’d you let everyone think that it was my idea to do all these things around town? Why didn’t you just do whatever it was you do without dragging me into it?”
“Because I’m your wife, Hunter,” she said. “It only made sense that you be a part of all of the decision making.”
“But I never asked for this,” he argued, his eyes going icy as he looked at her. “I didn’t—don’t—want to be responsible for this town.”
Margie shook her head and saw more than she guessed he would want her to. Whether he would admit it or not, he loved this place, too. She’d seen it in his face as they walked along the familiar street. She’d heard it in his voice when he greeted old friends. And she’d felt it from him as the Drakes offered their thanks for everything he’d done for them and everyone else.
“Don’t you see, Hunter,” she said softly and reached up to cup his cheek, voluntarily touching him for the first time. “It’s not about what you want. It’s about what they need. The people in Springville need to feel that they’re important to the Cabots. And like it or not, you are the Cabots.”
Chapter Five (#ulink_9bc3c047-9b0a-5fd0-bfa4-3f6951fbde19)
“Nonsense,” Simon said. “There’s no reason for you to leave, and I won’t accept your resignation.”
Margie sighed. She’d known that telling Simon she’d be leaving at the end of the month wouldn’t be easy. But after spending several hours in Springville with Hunter, she’d realized that she’d never be able to stay once her “marriage” was over. How could she?
Once Hunter left, every time she went into town, she’d have to see pity on the faces of her friends. They’d talk about her and speculate about what had gone wrong in her “wonderful” marriage.
She just couldn’t stand the thought of it. This place had been a refuge for her. A place where she’d found friends and a sense of belonging she’d never known before. She didn’t want any of that to change. So to protect herself and her memories of this place, she had no choice but to leave.
“You have to accept it, Simon.” Margie shook her head sadly.“ I’ll be leaving at the end of the month. I have to.”
“No, you don’t,” the old man said, lips pinched as if he’d bitten into a lemon. “Hunter’s not an idiot, you know. He’ll open his eyes. See you for who you are. Everything’s going to work out fine. You’ll see.”
If a part of her wished he were right, she wouldn’t admit to it. Because her rational mind just couldn’t believe it. She and Hunter hadn’t exactly gotten off to a smooth start. “Simon, he thinks I’m a gold digger.”
The old man barked out one short laugh. “He’ll get past that fast enough. I told him I had to force the money on you.”
“About that,” she said, wincing inwardly. Margie had never wanted the five million dollars, but Simon had been adamant about her accepting it. All she’d ever wanted was an honest job and to be able to support herself.
She hadn’t married Hunter for the money. She’d done it for Simon. And, she admitted silently, because she’d liked the idea of being married. Of being wanted.
Stupid, Margie, really stupid.
She should have known that she had been walking into a huge mistake.
“Don’t you worry about my grandson, you hear me?” Simon said, pushing up from the chair behind his desk. He walked slowly toward her, linked his arm through hers and headed toward the door. “I’ve known Hunter all his life, and I’m sure he’s going to do the right thing.”
“According to him, the right thing is to have me arrested.”
He laughed again and patted her arm. “Just trust me, Margie,” he told her, ushering her into the hallway. “Everything’s going to work out.”
“Simon—”
“Not another word, now,” he admonished, holding up one hand to still anything else she might have to say. “You just be yourself and let me worry about Hunter.”
Then he closed the study door, shutting Margie out and leaving her to wonder if he’d even heard a word she’d said. Probably not. She’d learned in the two years she’d worked for Simon that his head could be every bit as thick and stubborn as his grandson’s seemed to be.
For the next few days, Hunter suffered through oceans of gratitude. Stoically, silently, he accepted the thanks from people he’d known his whole life for things he hadn’t done.
Margie had been right, he knew. The people in Springville did need to know that their jobs, their lives, were safe. And around here, that meant having the Cabot family take an interest. Be involved.
And his “wife” was the Queen of Involved. She was on a half dozen committees, spent some of her day with Simon, taking care of business matters, and then what time she had left, she devoted to being the Lady of the Manor.
Hell. Hunter rubbed one hand across his face and told himself to knock it off. Yes, he resented all of the time and effort she was putting into Springville, but this was mainly because he still hadn’t figured out why she was doing it. And why was she giving him so much credit for everything she’d done? What the hell did she care if people in town hated or loved him? What did it matter to her if the Little League field had been replanted and new dugouts constructed for the kids who would play there this summer?
Why was she so damn determined to carve a place for herself in this little town? And why was she dragging him along with her?
It’s not about what you want, Hunter. It’s about what they need.
Those words of Margie’s kept repeating in his mind, and he didn’t much care for it. He’d never thought about the town and his attachment to it in those terms, and a part of him was ashamed to admit it, even to himself.
“But damn it, I don’t need a teacher. Don’t need this woman who’s not even my wife making me look good to a town I don’t even live in anymore.” He shook his head, glared out at the wide sweep of flowers spread out in front of him and muttered, “I didn’t ask her to do it, did I? I didn’t ask to be the damn town hero.”
“You talking to yourself again, Hunter?”
His head snapped up, and his gaze locked on the estate gardener watching Hunter from behind a low bank of hydrangeas. How much had the man heard? How much did he know? This pretending to be something he wasn’t was driving him nuts. Just as being married to a curvy, luscious redhead he couldn’t touch was beginning to push him to the edge of his control.
Sleeping beside her every night, waking up every morning to find himself holding her close only to jump out of bed and rebuild her damn wall before she could wake up and discover his weakness.
Weakness.
Since when did he have a damn weakness?
Taking a breath, he told himself to play the game he’d agreed to play. To get through the rest of the month and reclaim his life. When the month was over, he’d find a woman. Any woman, and bury his memories of Margie in some anonymous sex. Then he could get back to the base and do what he knew best.
“Just what planet are you on, Hunter?”
The gardener’s voice came again and Hunter muttered a curse he hoped the older man couldn’t hear. “Didn’t see you there, Calvin.”
