Hired Husband. Rebecca Brandewyne
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heading from Kate’s office.
Caroline stood there staring after him, nonplussed, biting her tongue to hold back the question that had involuntarily sprung to it: Well, do I? Unwittingly, her hand flew to her mouth. Somehow, her lips felt warm from his kiss. At that realization, she shook her head resolutely, as though to clear it.
What was she thinking? Really, the man was impossible! Any concern and empathy she had thought he might have felt for her earlier had obviously been an attempt on his part to conceal his true self from her, in order that she would say yes to marrying him.
How could she go through with their wedding? Caroline asked herself, torn. Because how could she not go through with it? Her grandmother, father and Fortune Cosmetics were all counting on her. She couldn’t let them down, couldn’t turn her back on them and prove a disappointment to them, as her brother, Adam, had done.
No, like it or not, she had no choice but to wed Nick Valkov. She sighed heavily. This was not the marriage of her dreams, what she had envisioned since she was a little girl. She had hoped for a loving husband, children.
Her eyes strayed to the elegant marble pedestal that stood in one corner of her grandmother’s office. From the column, a small, slender alabaster arm rose. Wrapped around its wrist was a sterling-silver heir-loom baby bracelet composed of tiny beads and a delicate heart. It was quite valuable, as it was believed to have belonged to one of history’s great queens. But that was not the reason why Caroline had always loved it. It was because, to her, it somehow symbolized all that life should be, the making of the proverbial happy home and hearth, the passing of the torch from one generation to the next.
She was twenty-nine years old—and she could hear her biological clock ticking away. How much time would she lose by marrying Nick Valkov, time she might have spent looking for a true husband who loved her and would give her children? How much time had she already wasted herself, burying herself in her work and cutting herself from all men? She had been a fool, Caroline realized now. But it was too late to go back; she could not relive the past.
She must, as her father had, set aside her own dreams for the good of the family. Thus resolved, she squared her shoulders determinedly and strode from her grandmother’s office.
Four
W hen, late that afternoon, Nick finally rang her office, Caroline was actually relieved. She had both dreaded and anticipated his call all day, so she had hardly been able to concentrate on her work. As a result, she had got very little accomplished, and she knew there was no point in continuing to fritter away any more time at her desk.
“I’ll come up to your office to get you,” said Nick. “I think we need to be seen to be in contact with each other, so that if the INS starts nosing around, questioning employees here at Fortune Cosmetics, they’ll at least discover some signs that we might have been having a discreet affair—and perhaps believe that we got more excited and careless as we moved toward marriage. So be sure your secretary’s there.”
“All right,” Caroline agreed slowly, knowing his plan was logical but still reluctant to fall in with it. She had been an object of gossip at Fortune Cosmetics during her relationship with Paul Andersen, and she loathed the thought of becoming so again. She had worked hard to put the past behind her. “I’ll see you in a few minutes, then.” After disconnecting, instead of hanging up the receiver, she punched in her secretary’s extension. “Mary, I’ve got those letters that needed my signature ready now, if you’d like to come in and get them.”
“Great. I’ll be right there,” the young, bubbly secretary replied.
Moments later, Mary appeared in the doorway. Instead of handing her the letters right away, Caroline pretended to sort through all the papers on her littered desk, chatting with the secretary and feeling like a fool at deceptively delaying her until Nick arrived. Caroline was glad when he finally showed up.
“Caro baby…oh, I didn’t realize you weren’t alone, Ms. Fortune,” he uttered contritely as he stuck his head inside the doorway, feigning momentary confusion and discomposure.
He did it so well, seemed so practiced at subterfuge, that for an instant, Caroline could not help but wonder if the INS really was right and if Nick really was a former KGB agent. Then she realized how ridiculous an idea that was.
Because if he were, he certainly wouldn’t have come to the United States and taken a job as a chemist at a cosmetics company. He would surely have sought a position at something like an electronics or aircraft company, or as a government official or a politician, so he would have access to the kind of information that would be valuable on the open market—to foreign governments and terrorists.
While rival cosmetics companies might be interested in finding out that Fortune Cosmetics was going to call its new shade of red lipstick and matching nail polish Maraschino Cherry, Caroline simply couldn’t imagine that anybody else would pay highly for that knowledge—or that it would attract the attention of a secret agent.
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