Stand-In Wife

by Debbie Macomber

Her fervor seemed to surprise him. “So you’d rather forget it ever happened?”

  “Yes.”

  He eyed her skeptically. “Can you?”

  “Yes,” she lied. “Can’t you?”

  He hesitated, then nodded. “And it goes without saying that it won’t happen again. You have my word on it.”

  * * *

  Paul knew he’d blundered badly in his conversation with Leah. Seeing her that morning, watching the way her eyes avoided his, was agonizing. He wanted to take her hands in his and plead for her forgiveness. But when he’d built up the courage to confront her, he’d done it all wrong. He’d made it seem as if he’d kissed her because he’d gone nearly a year without sexual gratification and she was available.

  He hadn’t even told her how sorry he was.

  But was he?

  Paul didn’t know anymore. He’d woken and his arms felt empty without her. For long seconds he lay there, his heart racing.

  He waited for the guilt to kick him in the teeth. For Diane’s image to appear and damn him for his weakness. For God to intervene and save him from himself.

  It didn’t happen.

  All he could think about was how much he wanted to kiss Leah again.

  Her reaction in the morning had quickly convinced him that his actions had betrayed a basic trust between them. She was embarrassed, perhaps even frightened. He’d known that he’d need to reassure her. He should’ve done it immediately, as soon as she’d entered the kitchen. But he’d waited, telling himself he’d do it right after church. Then they’d ended up at his parents’ house, and that second delay had only made it more difficult.

  During the ride home he’d rehearsed what he planned to say. It had sounded good in his mind, but the minute he’d tried to voice his thoughts, he’d botched everything.

  What else could he do but promise never to touch her again? It was obvious that he’d offended her. His need had repulsed her.

  * * *

  Leah napped well into the afternoon. When she woke, Paul was in his den, presumably working on his novel. He didn’t come out until dinnertime, and then only long enough to eat before he returned to his private refuge.

  After their baths Leah read to the boys until they were sleepy and her voice had grown hoarse. Once the kids were tucked in their beds, she withdrew into her room and read late into the night.

  By the time she woke in the morning, Paul had already left for the office.

  The boys requested Eggs McManning for breakfast. By now Leah was quite proficient at creating the family favorite. She was standing in front of the stove, the spatula in her hand, when her eyes suddenly filled with tears. They came so unexpectedly that she was caught completely unawares. She brushed them with her forearm, hoping the twins wouldn’t notice.

  Why was she weeping, anyway? Was it because she was falling in love with a man who could never love her back? Because she lay awake nights remembering how hot and urgent his mouth had felt on her own? Because she dared not look him in the eye for fear he’d know what she wanted?

  There was an even more pressing question: How could she go on, living in his house, caring for his children, as if everything was still the same?

  * * *

  Paul let himself in the house and was immediately met by the enticing aroma of dinner. He walked unnoticed into the kitchen and stopped, mesmerized by the sight of Leah at the stove. He’d purposely avoided her that morning, left early just so he wouldn’t have to smile and pretend nothing had changed between them. He’d never been much good at pretending; his expertise was in escape, which was why he’d gone to work early. Now he doubted the wisdom of his actions.

  The impact of seeing Leah, of being this close to her after nearly twenty-four hours, hit him hard. It was like being punched in the chest, his lungs emptied of air.

  He must’ve made some kind of noise because Leah turned to face him. “I didn’t hear you come in,” she said, sounding as normal as always.

  Paul was slowly going out of his mind, and there she stood, frying pork chops as if nothing was wrong. He had to marvel at her ability to pretend. To him, the tension was thick enough to slice into bite-sized pieces.

  But…maybe it was all him. Maybe she didn’t feel it. Maybe he was the only one.

  That thought, somehow, wasn’t comforting.

  Paul didn’t realize his mistake until they were finished with dinner. Leah had said very little. She’d been careful not to look at him even when he asked her a question, which she’d made a point of answering as tersely as possible. The boys were cranky; Paul blamed it on the tension between him and Leah—a tension that proved her emotions were no less involved than his. She’d almost fooled him, though, almost convinced him. She’d certainly given a performance worthy of an Academy Award.

  Yet he said nothing. How could he? Like her, he was trapped. He had to continue pretending.

  It rained again that night, beating against his window in a relentless rhythm. For the third night in a row, Paul found it difficult to sleep. The howling wind wasn’t helping.

  He considered getting up, drinking a glass of milk. Maybe reading for a while. Of course, he could revert to pacing away the long hours until morning, the way he’d done the first few months after Diane’s death.

  What really kept him awake was Leah. Knowing she was so close. Only two doors away…

  Night. Wind. Rain. Wanting Leah. Loving Diane. Suddenly it was all too much for him, and he tossed aside the blankets and climbed out of bed. Bare-chested, he walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator to pour himself a glass of milk, which he gulped down. Rinsing out the glass, he set it in the sink, then headed back to his room.

  A movement in the shadows startled him.

  “Leah?”

  “Paul?”

  “What are you doing up?”

  “I—I couldn’t sleep. I was just going to get myself some milk.”

  His eyes quickly adjusted to the dark. As soon as they did, Paul wished they hadn’t. She stood in the shadows, but the pale light coming from the night-light in the twins’ bedroom silhouetted her slight form, highlighting her breasts and the slimness of her waist and hips. He already knew how she felt in his arms and—Paul shook his head and nearly groaned out loud as he deliberately chased the memory from his mind.

  “Why are you up?” she asked breathlessly.

  “I couldn’t sleep, either.” His heart was pounding so hard he was afraid she could hear it.

  The silence lingered, grew embarrassingly long, yet neither moved.

  “I …had a glass of milk, too,” he offered when the silence seemed to stretch to the breaking point. He was surprised by how difficult it was to speak coherently.

  The desire to touch her was suddenly so strong he had to clasp his hands behind him in order to resist reaching for her.

  “The storm…kept me awake.” Leah’s voice was barely a whisper. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and imploring.

  Waiting. Wanting.

  Still neither of them moved. Neither breathed.

  Paul groaned inwardly. Wasn’t she aware of the signals she was sending him?

  Apparently not. His control was almost at its end. But he held on to it, because the truth was, he suspected she didn’t actually know what she was doing, staring up at him like that.

  “I should be getting back to bed,” he muttered.

  “Yes.”

  They were so close her breath fanned his face. Then Leah lifted her head and their lips were mere inches apart. Their breathing was erratic, and he shut his eyes, concentrating on her scent, relishing the feel of her breath on his face.

  “Leah…” His voice came from deep within his throat. “Stop me,” he groaned.

  He was seconds away from taking her in his arms and breaking his promise to himself. His promise to the memory of his dead wife, his promise to God, but most important, his promise to Leah.

  Six

  Paul didn’t know how he managed to avoid kissing
Leah. He stumbled back to his room and literally fell across his bed. He heard her return to her bedroom, and only then was he able to breathe easily.

  He’d expected to encounter all kinds of problems when Leah moved in with him and the children, but this wasn’t one of them. Having to fight a sexual attraction to her hadn’t once entered his mind.

  Who would’ve believed this could happen? Not Paul.

  It had all started with a simple kiss. An anything-but-simple kiss, he amended. He would gladly surrender everything he owned not to have touched her that first time. Not to have tasted her sweetness, felt her willingness.

  One kiss had brought him past the point of pleasure; it had opened a Pandora’s box of hungry need.

  His desire for her was shameless. Just a few minutes ago, it had taken all the control he possessed to walk away from her. He wasn’t sure he’d have the strength to do it again.

  Where did that leave them?

  Paul couldn’t explain what had come over him the past few days. Although he was nearly thirty when he married Diane, he hadn’t had an extensive history of sexual experience. His army buddies had bragged about their sexual conquests and playfully joked with Paul, claiming he was the only man they knew who was more interested in a woman’s mind than her body.

  Not with Leah. He’d been fighting erotic fantasies about her for days, doggedly pushing them out of his mind and then damning himself for his thoughts.

  For years he’d prided himself on his self-control, his discipline, but lately that discipline was breaking down. In fact, it was going to hell in a hand basket, as the saying went.

  Although his breathing calmed, the frightening excitement didn’t lessen once Paul was in his own room; if anything, it increased. Every time he closed his eyes, Leah was there, looking up at him, her beautiful eyes languid with desire. Every instinct he had told him to take her in his arms and hold her tight. He longed to curve his hands around her waist and nestle close to her softness.

  What was he going to do? He’d already discovered he couldn’t ignore her. He couldn’t be in the same room and not react to the tension between them. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t keep the memories of the night he’d kissed her from bombarding his mind. No more than he could repress the guilt those same memories occasioned.

  Paul didn’t know how Leah managed to pretend that this strained awareness didn’t exist. She did a masterful job of it, but that ability was beyond him.

  He could do what he’d done that morning—leave for work early in order to avoid any contact, verbal or otherwise, with Leah. But the problem with that was his children. He couldn’t escape her without depriving himself of what little time he had with them. In the end he’d only be cheating himself.

  The one other option that presented itself was an open, honest discussion. However, he’d attempted that once and made a mess of it.

  Paul sighed wearily. The situation was even worse than he’d thought. Quite simply, he had no idea what to do now.

  * * *

  “Your parents phoned.” That was how Leah greeted Paul when he returned home from work the next evening. Just the way she said it told him she’d had a bad day. He was almost glad. His own had been a disaster, and if she was miserable, too, he figured that was only fair.

  His mood lightened considerably.

  “What’s up with them?”

  Leah shrugged, keeping her back to him—an irritating habit of late. “They asked if they could come visit.”

  “What did you tell them?”

  Hearing his father, Ryan ran in from the backyard, and Paul lifted his son into his arms, hugging him briefly.

  “What could I say?” Leah continued, turning to face him. “I told them they were welcome anytime.”

  Ronnie raced in behind his brother, looking for the customary hug. Paul absently complied, then bent over and kissed Kelsey’s cheek as she gleefully pounded away on a pan with a wooden spoon.

  “They wanted to be sure we were both going to be home.”

  Paul straightened slowly. “That sounds ominous.”

  “I …think it might be.” Leah turned back to the counter, where she was grating cheese for a taco salad.

  Paul reached over and stole a black olive from the bowl of lettuce. “Why do you say that?”

  “I know your mother sensed something was wrong…between us Sunday morning,” she explained.

  “So?” Paul was surprised that he could act so nonchalant, since he felt anything but. Not that he was worried about his parents’ visit, of course. No reason he should be.

  “So…it worries me.”

  “Why?”

  She whirled around and glared at him, and it was all Paul could do not to clap his hands and cry out, “Hot damn!” Finally. Finally. Leah Baker was showing some emotion. She couldn’t pretend anymore. She couldn’t ignore him any longer. Couldn’t continue this maddening game of make-believe.

  * * *

  His parents arrived at seven-thirty. The kitchen was clean, and the boys were outside playing on the swing set in the still-bright sun. Kelsey had been diapered and put to bed for the night. Paul had to marvel, not for the first time, at Leah’s efficiency.

  The minute his father stepped into the house, his gaze sought out Paul’s. There was something on his mind, all right. Paul knew the look. The last time Paul could remember seeing that particular expression was when Christy had announced she was married to Cody Franklin. The news came as a shock, especially since she’d been engaged to James Wilkens at the time. Leave it to his youngest sister to marry one man while engaged to another.

  “So, what’s bothering you, Dad?” Paul asked.

  “I’d like to talk to you.”

  “Sure.”

  Eric sent Leah an apologetic look. “Privately, if you don’t mind?”

  “Of course not.” Paul sent Leah a glance, too. Her eyes met his, and she looked so uncertain, so dubious, that he had to resist an urge to tell her there was nothing to worry about. But he didn’t say anything, because he wasn’t sure himself.

  “And while you two are chatting, Leah and I can have some time to ourselves,” his mother said conversationally. Except that Paul wasn’t fooled. He recognized her concerned tone of voice. When he was a teenager, that concern had often led to having the car keys taken away, or being grounded—until he saw things the same way his parents did.

  Whatever was going on seemed worrisome. Leah, who’d apparently recovered, cast him a prim I-told-you-so look and led his mother into the kitchen.

  Whatever this was all about, Paul was pretty sure he didn’t like it. His parents were wonderful; the first six months after Kelsey was born, Paul couldn’t have survived without their encouragement and support. But he was thirty-six years old, far past the point of being reprimanded by them.

  Leah claimed his parents had sensed that things had gone awry, although Paul doubted it. Yes, the mood had been a bit tense and his family might’ve read something into it, but surely that hadn’t brought about this unexpected visit.

  Paul preceded his father into his office and closed the door. The room wasn’t large, but adequate for his needs. The desk, with his computer, took up one wall. Two more walls were dominated by bookshelves. Paul gave his father the desk chair and took the stool for himself.

  “What’s wrong, Dad?”

  “Nothing.” As he spoke, he slowly raised his eyes to meet Paul’s. “At least I hope not.”

  Paul smiled benignly and waited.

  “As you know, your mother and I are leaving next week for Montana. She’s got her heart set on being with Christy for the birth of this baby.”

  “Yes, I know. You don’t need to worry about the house. Jason, Rich and I will look after the old homestead for you.”

  “It’s not the house I’m worried about,” Eric said gruffly.

  “Then what is it?”

  “It’s Leah.”

  Paul went stiff. So much for all the reassuring things he’d been tel
ling himself. His father was staring at him as though he expected Paul to leap up and announce that he was lusting after Leah. Not that it was exactly a lie.

  “What about Leah?” Paul asked once he could trust his voice not to betray his uneasiness.

  “I’m concerned about her.”

  There was no question that Leah worked too hard and didn’t take enough time for herself. Diane had been far more social than Leah, more outgoing. Leah’s idea of indulging herself was reading a good book.

  “The family realizes that everything’s on the up-and-up between you two.”

  “On the up-and-up?”

  “That the two of you aren’t sleeping together,” Eric explained bluntly.

  His father was entering territory Paul considered off limits. “Dad, listen, I know you mean well, but I don’t think—”

  “Paul, I hate to broach the subject, but there’ve been rumors. It’s only natural, I suppose. I’m well aware that men and women live together without benefit of marriage all the time. Sadly it’s a matter of course these days.”

  “Dad, I don’t care what other people think.” There’d always be those who believed whatever they wanted to, no matter how innocent the situation.

  His father folded his arms over his chest and nodded. “Perhaps not, but how does Leah feel?”

  Paul was stunned. He hadn’t given Leah’s reputation a moment’s thought. She was the one who’d suggested moving in with him, after all. He’d assumed, perhaps erroneously, that whatever talk there was didn’t concern her. Now, imagining anyone daring to criticize Leah sent hot fury racing through his veins. He wasn’t a man to get angry often, but he was now.

  “Who’s been gossiping about us?” he demanded of his father. “What did they say?”

  “That’s not important.”

  “The hell it isn’t! I want to know who—”

  “There are a few other, more important issues you should be considering,” his father interrupted.

  That worried Paul even more. Had the rumors turned vicious? “Such as?”

  “When Leah moved in with you—it’s been what? Six, seven weeks?”