His 1-800 Wife

by Shirley Hailstock

  Catherine couldn't believe how she felt, how he made her feel. Jarrod's tongue pushed past her teeth, seeking entry to her mouth. Without hesitation she welcomed him inside, welcomed the gentle wave of ecstasy that washed over her like a warm waterfall. Her tongue mated with his. She played the dance with him, feeling the chipped tooth that was to her credit. She felt they were alone in the world, with nothing about them except the deep, dark jungle with all its emerald beauty and the echo of silence.

  Jarrod's arms clamped around her, drawing her into intimate contact with the full length of him. She felt every part of his body while his mouth worked magic on hers. Catherine was caught in a downpour of sensation, wanting to move closer to him. Her hands moved over his back, caressing him as they descended lower and lower. When she reached his waist, he lifted his head. Catherine's entire body could have been made of rubber. Jarrod folded her into his arms and held her close for a few seconds. He must have known how she felt. Then he stepped back.

  He stared down at her. She couldn't move. Looking up at him, she saw the desire in his eyes. She wondered what hers looked like to him. Catherine had changed in his arms, lost her sense and her mind, she thought.

  Audrey cleared her throat, and Catherine suddenly remembered they weren't alone. Her head snapped toward her sister and she stepped back, out of Jarrod's arms. Catherine's body suffused with heat. She felt like a child caught doing something wrong, and tattle-tale Audrey was there to make sure the world or her parents knew it.

  The look at Audrey's face, bathed in wide-eyed surprise. Catherine could see this complication wasn't something Audrey had planned when she haphaz­ardly threw them together.

  "I thought you two were just being antisocial," Audrey said, finding her voice, which seemed a little higher than usual. "I came to see if either of you needed a referee, but I guess it was a wasted trip."

  Jarrod moved behind Catherine and put his hands on her shoulders." Not entirely, Audrey," Jarrod said.

  Catherine was too tongue-tied to try to speak. Her mind was foggy. Her legs were weak, and she could still feel Jarrod's mouth on her tingling lips. She felt hot, both from Jarrod's assault and with embar­rassment that she could feel so intimate with someone she didn't particularly like. And to have a witness. One who would no doubt recount everything to her mother and half the population of Newport. The smile on Audrey's face told her that much.

  "We don't need a referee, but we'd like you to be the first to know," Jarrod continued.

  "Know what?" Audrey looked to Catherine for an answer.

  "I'm talking about a wedding, Audrey." Jarrod spoke first. Catherine couldn't find her voice, though she hadn't planned to answer her sister. "Cathy and I are getting married."

  ***

  Five minutes later it was show time. Audrey didn't ask them if they wanted to announce their engage­ment; she'd called for everyone's attention when Jarrod took control.

  "Smile," he whispered as he put his arm around her waist and the two of them faced the gathering crowd. She felt her heart beating faster. She looked about the crowd for someone she could count on for support. Usually she would have sought out Elizabeth Westfield, but she was out of town. Catherine's eyes found her mother. Her father stood behind her. She smiled at her parents and looked away. Catherine defi­nitely couldn't look at them while Jarrod announced their plans to marry. Julianna Stone and Emily Colter offered her sardonic smiles. She found Robert Wells in the crowd. She liked Robert, despite his penchant for joining Jarrod in his jokes. He winked at her and she relaxed a little.

  Jarrod slipped his arm around her and pulled her against him. The hand at her waist was cold. He cleared his throat and spoke. "Catherine and I have an announcement to make."

  She wondered what he was feeling. Did he think everyone in the crowd knew they were lying? She looked at him and smiled, giving him encourage­ment, already playing her role.

  "We're going to get married."

  For a second there was silence. Then her mother clapped her hands together and started for them.

  "Don't leave me alone," she muttered so Jarrod could hear her.

  "The same goes for you."

  "Darling, I am so happy for you," her mother said, trying to hug them both at the same time. "I never thought it would happen." She kissed Catherine on the cheek. Tears gathered in her mother's eyes. A pang of guilt pierced Catherine's heart. She and her mother had a special relationship, but she would never be able to tell her about this. It would break her heart. Her mother loved Jarrod. She'd often said he was just like another member of the family.

  Her father shook Jarrod's hand and kissed her. He didn't say anything, but he'd often been the quiet type. Catherine wondered if he kept silent to avoid telling a lie.

  After Jarrod's parents congratulated them and Audrey pushed her way to the head of the group, Catherine was surrounded by well-wishers. More times than she could count, people kissed her on the cheek or shook her hand.

  "Congratulations," Julianna said to Jarrod. She ignored Catherine. Julianna never deviated from character. "This is certainly a surprise, Jarrod."

  "Not really," he told her. Catherine was holding his hand. She squeezed it. "Catherine and I have been. . ." He looked at her with a smile. Catherine didn't know what happened to her insides. She felt them melting. ". . .heading toward this for years," he finished. He dropped a quick kiss on her mouth. Catherine closed her eyes and then opened them with a jerk when she remembered where she was.

  "You haven't been home very long. You wouldn't want to rush into anything." She emphasized the word rush, giving it both its equal and opposite mean­ings and making it clear that she disapproved of any union between the two of them.

  "Do I get to kiss the bride?" Robert elbowed his way to the front and took Catherine in his arms. He looked at Jarrod.

  "Be careful," Jarrod told him. "She's spoken for." Robert kissed her on the mouth and released her. Catherine saw Julianna move away. She relaxed. They'd passed her by for the time being.

  "Julianna doesn't believe a word of this engage­ment," Robert said in a voice designed for specific ears. "And I know a fish story when I hear one."

  Chapter 2

  "Damn!" Jarrod cursed, slamming the highball glass down on the bar. What had he been thinking? "Damn, damn, damn." Both of them couldn't be crazy. Someone had to be the rational one of a two­some, but when he had Catherine wrapped in his arms rationality didn't just take a vacation, it scattered into separate molecules and dematerialized.

  Jarrod stared at himself in the mirror over the bar. He looked like a normal man. He had been normal until he saw Catherine in that skin-tight dress and Dolly Levi hat. The hat he could laugh off, but the dress—and the woman inside it—aroused him, made him want to put his hands on her. And he had. Look what that did to him.

  Made him an idiot.

  Now an engaged idiot.

  He couldn't marry Catherine. Not because he couldn't play her game, but because he couldn't play her game. Six months of close contact with her and he'd be a basket case. He had no doubt about it. There was no such thing as a platonic relationship between them. If he found himself alone with her, he couldn't be more than what he was—a man attracted to a woman.

  Five years ago he'd asked for the job in England. It was prestigious and would help his career in the long run. It involved restoration instead of the new construction he'd done since finishing his architec­tural apprenticeship three years earlier.

  When it was time for him to leave it seemed every­one had something to do they couldn't get out of. His parents were away, and Catherine agreed to take him to the airport. He remembered their banter in the car during the drive. It was happy and normal for them. Jarrod liked her and she liked him, even if he did embarrass her on occasion. When it was time to board the plane he looked at her and didn't know where the decision to hug her came from. She was the only one he knew there and he was leaving for an indefinite period of time.

  He pulled her into
his arms and buried his face in her hair. It was a hug, only a friendly gesture from someone who was going away, but Catherine's arms had encircled him, returning the hug. For a moment their differences were wiped away and only the friend­ship they felt remained. Jarrod remembered the smell of her hair, a flowery, summery kind of scent. For five years that scent remained with him. Today he smelled it again while he had her in his arms.

  She was young when he left. He imagined her unchanged, yet when he saw her she'd matured. The

  lankiness was gone, her tentativeness replaced with confidence. She was beautiful, her dark eyes and hair a haunting reflection of the girl he'd once known. Yet this new image took him back to that hug in the airport, to all the practical jokes he'd played on her, and made him understand how everything had been a cover-up. All the times he'd played jokes on her, he was masking his real feelings. He'd denied them, even to himself, but when he kissed her there was no more denying.

  How could he pretend for six months? He'd have to pretend he didn't have feelings for her. Pretending he did would be easy, but it would also tell her every­thing in his heart.

  Taking cold showers and controlling himself were things movie actors did. This was the real world. In life it happened the way it had happened today. He'd wanted to kiss that gorgeous mouth and he'd found a way, but he hadn't been prepared for the conse­quences. He hadn't expected one kiss to turn his life around, to make him want to marry her, but there was something about Catherine that got under his skin. He'd never known it before. And he wanted to explore whatever it was that made him look at her and see a raving beauty, a desirable woman who pushed his arousal buttons.

  He'd had to pull back. While he kissed her, while his hands stroked her soft, sensual curves, while sanity was flying away on a tempest, he'd heard Audrey's approach. At the last minute he remembered he'd initiated the kiss to convince Catherine's sister they were in love. Somewhere during the process, Audrey had become an intrusion. Jarrod supposed he should be thankful she was there. The screen actor would. If she hadn't been there, Jarrod would have dragged Catherine off somewhere and made love to her.

  "Damn, Cathy," he said to the face in the mirror. "Why couldn't you stay that lanky teenager I played jokes on?"

  Very likely now, the joke would be on him.

  ***

  Jarrod straightened when he heard a shrill of laugh­ter in the hall. He turned, facing the door, knowing the woman he'd been thinking of was only steps away. He could hear his mother's voice muffled through the thick wood. Then the door opened. Catherine swept in with a huge smile on her face. His heart thudded against his chest at the sight of her. She no longer wore the tight black dress. She had on jeans and a square-neck T-shirt. Every fiber molded itself to her, outlining her curves in a practical joke that could drive him crazy. It was pink, and no color could have highlighted her skin better. It didn't matter what she had on. Her presence aroused him.

  "Wasn't it wonderful?" she crooned, closing the door and leaning against it. "I couldn't have done it better if I'd planned it. Your mother was magnifi­cent."

  Esther Greene arrived late for everything. When she got to the party everyone's initial shock was over. She rushed them as soon as Catherine's parents told her the happy news. She hugged them both. Jarrod had never seen excitement more complete. For the first time since he could remember, his mother was speechless. Enthusiasm rushed from her, but she couldn't say a word. Her voice returned and she bubbled over with plans, details, things that needed to be done.

  "Did you hear the whispers? People were saying exactly what I told you they would."

  "Everyone except Robert. He saw right through this charade."

  Pushing herself away from the door, she came toward him. Her smile was still in place. She looked like she had a secret and was bursting with it. His expression must have told her something. She frowned. "What's wrong?" she asked when she was only a step from him.

  Everything was wrong. He wasn't supposed to feel like this. Catherine was a lanky teenager from his past. She didn't fit the usual type of woman he went out with. She was the girl next door. But she was also beautiful, gorgeous, and tempting. She felt good in his arms. He liked the way she smelled. He liked kissing her and he wanted more of her. Yet he didn't tell her any of the things he thought. He only said, "Nothing."

  "You're drunk." It was an accusation.

  "Not yet," he told her. "But I'm on my way." He lifted the empty highball glass and turned it up, let­ting the last drop of scotch slide onto his tongue. Frustrated, he set it back on the bar.

  "Why are you drinking?"

  "Catherine, this is not going to work."

  "Jarrod, you promised. You can't go back on your word now. We've only been engaged six hours."

  "Catherine, we don't even know each other."

  "That's not true. We've known each other practi­cally since birth."

  "But we're not kids anymore." His voice was almost a growl. "We're adults, grown-ups, and we should be able to make our own decisions, despite family pressure."

  "Jarrod, just think of it as an elaborate practical joke. In this one nobody gets hurt and we both gain freedom for life."

  "Someone could get hurt." He paused. "We'll be deceiving our families. If they find out what we're up to, it will break their hearts." Not to mention if his feelings got any stronger, he'd explode. He never thought anything like this could happen to him, or happen this fast. He didn't even know what to call it.

  "Then we'll have to make sure they don't find out." She took his hand. Her warmth permeated his skin. "Remember, we want to live our lives the way we want to, not the way our parents think we should."

  "You don't have to stay here."

  She dropped her eyes and his hand. "I know. I could leave like you did. I could go to England or South America or California, but I don't want to. I want to stay here. I love the ocean in the morning and going to sleep with the sound of it outside my window. I love the clean air and the tourists in the summer. I love going to visit the mansions all decked out for Christmas, the ships on the ocean, the smell of the wood in the building yard, and participating in the annual Charity Ball. And I like the people here. I know they have those things other places, but it isn't home. I just want my family to think of different things when they see me. I want us to be able to talk about things other than the state of my singleness."

  "But this might not be the best way. You really need to give this a thorough understanding before we do anything."

  She smiled then, as if light had just dawned. "I understand your concern."

  "You do?"

  "That was the initial reason I came." She walked behind the bar and pulled a canned soft drink from the refrigerator. Popping the top, she poured it into his empty glass. Jarrod wondered if her small act was to drive home a point. They had known each other a very long time. She was familiar with his family and he with hers. They'd practically grown up together, but he'd only been sexually attracted to her for a few hours.

  Catherine came around and stood at the stool next to him.

  "I thought we'd better get our story straight, but I don't think you're sober enough."

  "I'm sober enough. What is it?"

  She handed him the soft drink. He drank it all. "You've been away for five years. Suddenly you're back and after a witnessed argument, we're engaged. We've got to have a story for that."

  "How about we say you were the reason I left in the first place? That I was falling. . ." He found it hard to say the word. "I was falling in love with you and I took the job in England because I wasn't ready for a commitment."

  "That's good." She smiled. "But now you are?"

  "I'm older, no longer playing practical jokes. I'm ready to settle down and start a family."

  “You are?" Her eyebrows went up." I didn't know."

  "It's a lie, Catherine. It's what I'll tell them," he said. He moved from the stool. It had to be the alcohol on his brain, he told himself. His mind was playing tri
cks on him. He couldn't be seeing them, himself and Catherine as a family. The children, their chil­dren. He shook his head to clear the image.

  "Oh, of course." She cleared her throat. "Do you want to have kids someday?"

  He turned back. She was standing in front of the bar stool. "Yes," he said quietly.

  She approached him. "Jarrod." She swallowed. "Maybe you're right. I haven't thought this through. I never even asked if you have someone, someone special."

  "There is no one else," he answered more sharply than he'd intended.

  "It's hard to believe you could still be single. You're an attractive man, and I see how women circle you. Julianna Stone would elope with you tomorrow. Why haven't you ever married?"

  How had this conversation turned to him? He didn't want to discuss himself. Not with her. "Let's concentrate on us, what we'll tell everyone. Julianna has her own problems."

  She stared at him for a moment. He knew she wanted to continue the conversation on its present course, but he wouldn't go there. Not even in his inebriated state.

  "Why did you decide to return now?" she finally asked, adhering to his wishes.

  "I couldn't stay away any longer," he answered immediately, continuing to concoct the lie they would tell together. "We've been corresponding by e-mail, and when you went to Paris two summers ago I met you there. I couldn't leave England until after I'd completed my contract, but now I'm back for good."

  "Jarrod, that's not true."

  "It doesn't matter," he snapped; then, more qui­etly, he said, "They'll believe it because we'll be con­vincing."

  Catherine stepped back. The implication must have hit her and she was back in the swing with him.

  "Jarrod, this is a practical joke. We're getting mar­ried, but it's not real."