Wishing for Us

by Sydney Landon

  And there you have it, folks. The speech that will send Jacob Hay running for his life in the opposite direction from the insane woman before him.

  Instead of looking at her as if she was nuts, though, he walked to her side and pulled her from the chair and into his arms. “Christ, honey, I’m sorry.” He held her so tightly, it was a struggle to breathe. “I’ve messed this up in every imaginable way, haven’t I? I know it’s a lot to ask, but please don’t hate me. We might not have known each other for long, but I do care about you. You’re probably the strongest woman I’ve ever met, and I regret screwing up my chance with you.”

  Lydia couldn’t help it; she started laughing. Actually, it sounded more like a pained wheeze since he was still squeezing the life out of her. She twisted until he loosened his grip slightly. “It’s rather amusing,” she chuckled, “that you want a chance with someone you’re already married to. I mean I know it’s fake, but it just struck me as hilarious.”

  He relaxed against her, and once again, she was certain he pressed his lips against the top of her head in a quick kiss. “I couldn’t care less if you laughed your ass off at me. It’s better than you chasing me around this kitchen armed with a knife, which is what I was expecting.”

  She sagged against his chest, allowing herself the pleasure of letting him support her while she savored his masculine scent. “It’s pretty bad,” she finally agreed. “And I’ve gone from being shocked to pissed, then sad, and now I’m not sure where I am.” Sighing, she asked, “Could I see a picture of your daughter?”

  He pulled back, looking down at her in surprise. Then he dropped his arms from around her and removed his wallet from his pocket. He opened it and took out a picture. He looked at it for a moment, and Lydia could see how his face softened. He loved his daughter; the caring expression on his face said it all. He handed it almost reverently to her, and then said, “This was taken just a few months ago at the beginning of the school year. She was so damn excited to be starting first grade. She held my hand on the way to her classroom and told me that she was a big girl now, but she could still be my baby when she wasn’t at school.” Giving a wry smile, he added, “I almost lost it right there. Just the thought of her growing up and not needing me anymore is about more than I can stand.”

  Lydia tried to swallow past the sudden lump in her throat at his admission. What would it be like to have a son or daughter to cherish as he so clearly did Casey? Her hand shook slightly as she raised the picture because she already had a sense that what she saw there was going to change everything. She studied the little girl who was a miniature version of her daddy with his dark hair and eyes. But what really captivated her was the girl’s sweet smile complete with a missing front tooth. That was all it took—she was a goner. Right there in that kitchen without ever having met Casey, she fell in love with her. And because of that and the sappy smile that still lingered on Jake’s lips, Lydia shocked herself when she said, “I’d like to help you. I agree, your daughter doesn’t deserve to be put through a drawn-out custody battle if it can be avoided.”

  Jake’s mouth dropped open and he gawked at her in disbelief. “I . . . you’ll—what?” he stammered, clearly thinking he’d misheard her.

  She looked one more time at the picture she was clutching before handing it back to him. “Your daughter is beautiful, Jake, and I can tell how much you love her. The circumstances in which we got together are so unreal that just maybe it was fate. Since we’re already married, if there’s a way I can help you, I will. I can’t let you lose time with your daughter.”

  She was shocked speechless when his eyes teared up and he made no move to hide it from her. The fact that her offer deeply moved him was readily apparent. “I don’t know what to say,” he finally admitted huskily. “I never dared to even hope you’d be anything other than furious with me. But here you are wanting to help me instead. I’m just . . . blown away by you, Lydia. If possible, you’re even more beautiful on the inside than you are on the outside. I don’t want to take advantage of you, though. I feel as if I’ve already done far too much of that. Say the word and I will contact my lawyer and have annulment proceedings started immediately with no ill will toward you whatsoever. Actually, I should insist upon that anyway. This is far too much to ask of you and I’m afraid—”

  “Jake,” she interrupted. “I want to do this so stop trying to talk me out of it. Unless you’ve changed your mind and want to end the marriage. If that’s the case, then please say so.”

  “That’s not it at all,” he said quickly. “I’d have you moved in here tonight if it were up to me.”

  Lydia squared her shoulders and moved toward the door they’d come through earlier. “Then let’s go. I’ll keep my apartment, of course, but we can get some of my clothes tonight and anything else over the weekend.” As she hurried toward Jake’s truck, she had to wonder if she’d completely taken leave of her senses this time. He’d given her an engraved invitation to an annulment and she’d insisted on being his fake wife for the foreseeable future because of a little girl’s smile? Even as she tried to convince herself it was selfless on her part, she knew that was a lie. For reasons that even she couldn’t begin to comprehend, she longed to experience as much time with Jake as she could before this fake relationship self-combusted, even though her attraction to him scared the hell out of her. He was so damn irresistible, though. That she was willing to do something like this showed her how truly lonely she’d been without Brett.

  You’re in over your head here. Lydia did her best to push that negative thought aside. She was helping a friend just as anyone would—right?

  * * *

  Jake could hardly believe it. They had gone to Lydia’s apartment, where she had packed enough outfit changes to get her through several days, along with her toiletries. He was leading her down the hallway and into his guest room now. He’d fully expected her to rip into him when he’d confessed everything from that night, and she had been angry—at first. Then she’d appeared almost despondent.

  He’d wanted to see her again sooner, but Chris had been calling him and dropping by unannounced for the last two days. She insisted that if he would only agree to marry her, all of their problems could go away. He wondered if she knew just how insane that sounded. He’d finally told her the night before that he’d had enough, and surprisingly she’d actually listened and had backed off today. He knew it wouldn’t last, but he was enjoying the peace while he could. If not for dealing with that since he’d been home, he would have been on Lydia’s doorstep—once he actually figured out where that was.

  Parts of their night together in Las Vegas were still fuzzy, but the desire he’d felt for her wasn’t one of them. It had haunted him since coming home. That night, as they’d sat together in the hotel bar after their friends had left, they had bonded over their shared misery. He hadn’t revealed his as she had, but it had been there, choking him. The last thing he’d been thinking when he took the seat beside her was getting into a serious relationship. Hell, he’d been trying to avoid marriage with Chris for months. But as Lydia had told him about losing her fiancé and how it had crushed her dreams of sharing her life with someone, suddenly it had been as if a lightbulb had gone off in his head. Each of them was longing to have someone special in their life. He certainly couldn’t replace the fiancé she had lost, but he could give her the husband she longed for and she could be the noncrazy wife he needed for his daughter. No doubt about it, the beer goggles had truly been on and his idea had seemed absolutely perfect. The fact that he was drawn to Lydia in a way he couldn’t explain hadn’t hurt either.

  In the sober light of the next day, he was still very attracted to her, but that was overridden by the guilt he felt at what had seemed much more like deception than friends helping each other. So the fact that she was here with him now was more than he would have thought possible. It also pushed the point home that he hadn’t planned what would happen be
yond their I do’s. Did they live together as roommates? Split the household chores down the middle and have separate lives? Or did they attempt to form some kind of relationship—at the very least they could probably manage a friendship. If he was honest with himself, he wouldn’t mind something more. He’d like to get to know her better. It’d been a while since he’d had any interest in a woman that ran deeper than a bedmate for a night. Dealing with Chris and her demands had left him quite cynical where the opposite sex was concerned. But Lydia was so different from the mother of his child.

  When she touched his arm, he realized she’d been talking to him—or trying to—but he’d been too zoned out to notice. “Sorry, what was that?” he asked, feeling awkward as hell. He found himself wanting to impress her, and he sure hadn’t been successful at that so far. He was the VP of a very profitable company but had all of the grace of a schoolboy around her.

  Before she could answer, she let out a huge yawn and immediately blushed a pretty shade of pink. “Sorry about that,” she murmured. “I was actually asking if it was okay if I turned in for the night. It’s gotten pretty late, and I was up early this morning helping Crystal.”

  “Oh, of course,” Jake answered quickly, feeling like a heel for keeping her up. Now that she’d mentioned it, he could see the telltale signs of fatigue on her face. He deposited her suitcase inside the doorway. “The bathroom is right through there,” he added, pointing it out. Then he stood with his hands in his pockets feeling a little uncertain as to what to do next.

  Casey was the only overnight guest he’d had in years. When his parents were in town, they usually chose to stay at a beachside hotel, and his brother, Josh—well, he tried not to imagine where he ended up most nights when he visited.

  Lydia gave him an amused smirk. “I think I can take it from here. If I have any problems, I’ll let you know.”

  He backed away so suddenly, he stumbled, nearly falling onto his ass. You’re so smooth, I can’t imagine why she wants to be rid of you. “So . . . I’m just down the hall if you need anything. It’s the first door on the right.” He turned to leave and then swung back around. “Actually, that’s wrong. It’s the first door on the left from your room. It’s the right from the living room. Or would you consider it the last door technically?”

  “I’ll scream,” Lydia deadpanned. At his alarmed expression, she giggled before adding, “I meant if I can’t find you, I’ll just yell your name.”

  “Oh . . . right.” He smiled before reluctantly walking away and shutting the door behind him. He was making such an ass out of himself that he should have cut his losses and bolted immediately instead of hanging around her room like some kind of creeper.

  If what had just occurred was any indication, his pretend marriage was going to be one hell of a trip. He was usually pretty smooth around the ladies, but that certainly hadn’t been the case just now. He needed to get his shit together and fast. Maybe if he and Lydia sat down again tomorrow and further defined the parameters of their relationship, he might be more comfortable around her. As it stood now, he had no idea how long she planned to remain his wife—or what exactly that relationship entailed. If they were going to live together, though, things needed to be spelled out between them so there were no misunderstandings.

  Every moment he was around her, his attraction to her only grew stronger. He owed her so much for agreeing to help him with the Chris situation. He didn’t want to push his luck, but damn if he didn’t want to do something crazy like ask her out on a date. Be grateful that she’s still speaking to you and leave it at that tonight. He decided to listen to the wise voice in his head and go about his usual nightly routine. One that normally didn’t include having a wife just down the hall. He had no idea how he’d ever sleep, but he also suspected he should get used to the frustration because he had a feeling he hadn’t seen anything yet.

  When you got fake married, it likely meant other women were probably off the menu for a while.

  Chapter Four

  When Lydia woke up on Sunday morning, it hit her that she hadn’t thought the whole moving in with Jake thing over very well. Normally, she would have spent her day doing laundry and getting prepared for the week ahead. Sometimes she would have lunch or dinner with a friend, but those get-togethers had grown rare since Crystal met Mark. Naturally, her friend was part of a couple now and spent most of her free time with her man. Lydia didn’t begrudge her that; after all, she’d been that woman once when Brett was alive. Even after three years, she still had trouble adjusting to being single. She’d made joint decisions for so long that she automatically felt like she should consult someone before agreeing to anything.

  Not knowing what else to do, she showered and dressed in a pair of skinny jeans and a fitted white top. She threw on a pair of low-heeled sandals and took a breath before stepping out into the hall. She was bracing herself to see Jake again when she caught a flash of motion before something slammed into her legs. She rocked back, just barely managing to catch herself. “What the . . .” she murmured as she tried to get her bearings.

  Then she heard a giggle before a childish voice asked, “Who are you?”

  Lydia looked down to find Jake’s daughter grinning up at her. Dear Lord, the child was more beautiful in person and resembled her daddy even more. And those dimples. Lydia could feel her insides melting into a gooey mess. She squatted down, bringing herself eye level with the curious little girl. “I’m Lydia and I believe that you’re Casey.”

  The little girl screwed up her face before asking, “Are you a stranger? ‘Cause I can’t talk to you if you are.” Abruptly, her small face zeroed in on Lydia’s feet. “Can I wear your shoes? I like sparkles. Mommy says they make girls look like ramps, but I don’t see how. My cousin, Kendall, has a ramp for his skates. But it don’t look nothing like sparkly shoes. So . . . can you please take them off now?”

  Before Lydia could stop her head from spinning with all of the rapid-fire words coming from Casey’s mouth, the little girl had removed her own shiny black sandals and was tugging on Lydia’s. “Honey, maybe we should ask your dad first,” she managed to spit out. When Casey’s lip wobbled and she appeared on the verge of tears, Lydia stepped out of her shoes without another word of protest. “Okay, here you go, sweetheart. Do you need me to help you put them on?”

  Casey gave her a sweet smile that no longer showed any trace of tears. Lydia was pretty sure she’d been hustled by a six-year-old. The little girl plopped on her bottom and preceded to push her tiny feet into Lydia’s shoes. She was grateful at least that they didn’t have any type of heel that would make them dangerous for her to wear. “You’ve got big feet,” Casey tossed out as she stood back up. Then she grabbed Lydia’s hand and began tugging her down the hallway. “Let’s go show Mommy my ramp shoes!” Resistance was futile at that point. Casey was hell-bent on finding her mother, and Lydia was very much afraid that she’d given Jake’s daughter a pair of tramp shoes to wear. What else could “ramp” mean? She knew darn well it wasn’t some skating reference.

  She barely had a moment to panic before Casey had her in the kitchen standing just inches away from a tense Jake and an obviously angry but beautiful woman who had to be Chris. Of course, the mother of his child would look like a supermodel. Should I have expected anything less? She had the kind of flowing locks that women paid big money to achieve with hair extensions. It was also readily apparent that she spent a lot of time in a gym, no doubt with a personal trainer. Plus, her makeup was flawless and her features would have been beautiful if not for the scowl currently marring her face.

  “Daddy, look what I found in your bedroom!” Casey’s voice seemed to reverberate around the kitchen, causing the adults to stiffen.

  Chris put her hands on her designer jean–clad hips and hissed, “For God’s sake, Jake, really? You’ve just been standing here telling me how important it is to set a good example for our daughter, and you have som
e tramp in your bedroom the whole time?”

  The word “tramp” registered with Casey almost immediately, and Lydia winced as the little girl began pointing frantically to her feet. “She let me wear her ramps, Mommy! She had them on, but now I got them.” Then she wrinkled her little nose and added, “But I don’t think she got skates.”

  Lydia knew she should be angry at the insult from Chris, but she was so horrified to be stuck in the middle of this train wreck that all she could do was stand stock-still while it played out before her. To her amazement, laughter boomed through the air and Jake bent over, holding his side. “Ramps? What the heck does that mean?”

  Chris sniffed indignantly. “She’s referring to the type of women you’ve dragged into your house. The one who is presently standing beside my impressionable daughter!”

  Jake stood there for a moment as if doing the math in his head before her insult finally got through to him. He seemed to lose all of his mirth as his jaw hardened. “Christina, this conversation is hardly appropriate for Casey. And the fact that you’ve used that word around her before completely boggles the mind.”

  Lydia had no experience with parenting, but still she felt that Jake and Chris should be having this discussion elsewhere. They might not have noticed it, but their daughter was watching them with rapt attention. So Lydia squared her shoulders and cleared her throat uneasily. When she had everyone’s attention, she looked at Casey pointedly before turning back to Jake and Chris. “If you don’t mind, I thought I could go into the other room with Casey and watch television.” Anything loud enough to block the sound of their bickering, she thought, but didn’t verbalize it.