Undercover Husband

by Rebecca Winters

  Roman was listening intently. Everything Brit did or said captured his imagination, making him want to know more. For the life of him he couldn’t comprehend what his world had been like before she’d entered it.

  Forget your fantasies, Lufkilovich. You’re not free to dream. Remember? Something else owns you, body and soul.

  “Remind me to tell you about my grandparents’ escape from Russia. The tales sound incredibly similar.”

  “I’d love to hear it,” she enthused. There was an earnestness, a sincerity about her that was gnawing away at all his good intentions to remain aloof and professional.

  To his surprise, the famous Mr. Becker happened to be in the back of the store. When he learned Brit was in front with her fiancé, he came out dressed in a white shirt and trousers to shake hands with her and Roman.

  The congenial, soft-spoken gentleman spent a good half hour with them. After promising to create a special cake as his wedding present to them, he spent the rest of the time exchanging refugee stories with Roman.

  When it surfaced that the Beckers also lived in Federal Heights, Roman invited him and his family to attend their wedding. This brought a silent message of approval from Brit whose lustrous blue eyes unexpectedly smiled up at him.

  Roman discovered that he’d like to witness that phenomenon on a permanent basis. Impossible, a voice nagged at him.

  Disturbed by the recurring trend of his thoughts, he thanked Mr. Becker, then ushered Brit from the store.

  “I’m hungry.”

  “I am, too,” she agreed.

  “Let’s stop for a hamburger before we see about the flowers. Then I suggest we go home and rest up for the evening ahead.”

  His remark caused her eyes to widen. “What do you mean?”

  Lord, she had an exquisite mouth. Last night he’d only had a brief taste of those untutored lips. Heaven help him, he yearned for more.

  “Diana, the woman on the phone at my office, is the wife of my best friend, Cal Rawlings. They’re taking us out for an engagement dinner.”

  She shook her head, then turned away. “I—I don’t think we need to go that far.” Her voice trailed.

  Before he’d said the words, Roman knew his plan would meet with objections, but he was ready for her. “It’s important that we carry out this charade. Anything less convincing will defeat our plans. I don’t need to remind you that it may be some time before Baird shows up, if he shows at all.”

  The sudden quiet coming from her side of the car pleased him.

  “We have to behave exactly the way we would if you were truly my fiancée, Brit. Believe me, if this wedding were real, Cal would insist on a celebration dinner.” So would Yuri and Jeannie.

  The thought of his brother reminded him that before too much more time passed, he needed to phone Yuri and explain that one of his clients was staying at his house for an indefinite period.

  If Yuri should happen to call and hear Brit’s voice, he might falsely assume that Roman was living with a woman and keeping it a secret. It would ruin Roman’s cover as the heartbroken bachelor of the Lufkilovich family, a cover which had served him well over the years that he’d been a member of the CIA.

  It would also hurt Yuri and Jeannie in an intensely personal way which Roman had no desire to contemplate. His elder brother was Roman’s idol. He’d always looked up to him and loved him. The fact that Roman had been forced to keep his CIA status a secret from Yuri had been the one constant source of pain in Roman’s life.

  He couldn’t imagine doing that to a wife and children, thus the reason he’d made the decision early on to live out the rest of his earthly days alone.

  Without conscious thought, he cast a covert glance at the hauntingly lovely female at his side. To live a lie with a sensitive woman like Brit Langford, to place her life and the lives of their children in danger, would be unconscionable. He could never do it.

  What shocked him was that he could even envision the possibility of being married to her. How long had he known her? Twenty-four hours? He groaned to realize that no woman had ever impacted on his life to this extreme.

  Whatever had possessed him to decide to play her husband?

  He’d given Brit perfectly good reasons she could live with. Oddly enough, those same reasons didn’t quite meet his own relentless scrutiny, filling him with alarm and confusion.

  To his consternation, those same emotions seemed to intensify later that Saturday night when he escorted the object of his torment to the roof garden of the exclusive Empire Hotel in the heart of the city.

  She looked a vision in a modest gray-blue silk sheath, her hair caught back in a French twist, reminding him of a young Grace Kelly, the famous blond American movie star of the fifties who ended up marrying a prince in real life.

  Every eye, male or female, followed her movements as they walked through the ornate lobby to take the elevator. When they emerged on the top floor of the hotel overlooking the skyline, Roman immediately spied Cal whose jaw dropped open at the sight of Brit on Roman’s arm. Diana, as well, looked taken aback, but she had the presence of mind to recover in time to nudge her husband so he wouldn’t embarrass Roman or his female client.

  “Brit?” Roman murmured a second later, his hand tightening on her elbow. “Allow me to introduce my dearest friends, Diana and Cal.”

  “How do you do?” Brit said with an engaging smile proffered at both of them. “I’ve especially looked forward to meeting you, Diana.”

  “Really?” she questioned in puzzlement. “Why?”

  “Yesterday I was so frightened, you’ll never know how grateful I was when you said you’d talk to one of the investigators about my case. You represented a lifeline to me. I can never thank you enough.”

  “What have I told you, Diana?” Roman interjected suavely. “Don’t ever underestimate the part you play at the office.”

  “Thank you,” she answered, sounding pleased.

  Cal couldn’t seem to take his eyes off Brit, not even when the maître d’ guided them to their table at the window.

  While they were given menus, Roman could read his friend’s mind and almost dreaded the time when they would find themselves alone to talk in private. Cal would require a ruthless debriefing, something Roman wasn’t up to. Not yet...

  Uninterested for the moment in food, Roman found his escort infinitely more desirable. In the candlelight the periwinkle stones of her earrings sparkled with every heartbeat. But they couldn’t match the brilliance of her eyes as she occasionally looked his way in polite response to a comment he’d purposely made to garner her attention. He’d love to know what was going on inside that beautiful head of hers.

  The Roof had one of the better bands around. When they came out to play, Roman expelled the breath he’d been holding and rose to his feet. The need to feel Brit in his arms had grown into a permanent ache that required assuagement or he wasn’t going to make it through dinner.

  He didn’t care if she wanted to dance or not. Without giving her a choice, he pulled her chair away from the table, forcing her to join him. The heavy-handed gesture drew surprised glances from everyone, especially Brit, but Roman would worry about it later.

  The only reality was the unfamiliar lethargy of his body which screamed with needs it seemed only this woman could satisfy.

  But as they moved slowly around the floor, he sensed she was fighting him. Instead of melting against him, she held herself apart, whether out of fear or self-preservation, or both, he couldn’t tell.

  What he did know deep in his gut was that the desire he was feeling, was a mutual thing shared by both of them. Otherwise he wouldn’t be able to detect the tiny pulse at her temple throbbing against his cheek, nor would her breathing be this shallow.

  If he moved his hands the slightest bit, her body quivered in reaction. It took every bit of fortitude not to crush her against him until they melded as one flesh.

  “Mind if I break in, old buddy?” Cal inquired seemingly out of nowhere.
Roman detected a certain edge to his tone. “My wife needs to talk shop with you for a minute, and I haven’t yet had the opportunity to dance with your client.”

  Roman steeled himself not to react. He knew exactly what Cal was doing, and why. Later he’d probably thank his friend for stepping in before any more damage was done, but right now he could easily plant a fist in that firm jaw.

  With the greatest of reluctance he let Brit go. For an unguarded moment she looked as dazed as he felt before he relinquished her to Cal’s care. If he didn’t know his friend was madly in love with Diana, Roman wouldn’t have yielded Brit at all, not even in the name of civility.

  After he’d walked back to the table to pour himself another glass of champagne, Diana wisely remained silent. But the expression on her face was eloquent with meaning.

  Feeling guiltier than hell, Roman drained it to the last drop hoping to experience a numbing effect, then put down the glass so hard he heard the stem crack. This brought a shocked glance from Diana.

  “Are you all right, Roman?”

  He eyed her shrewdly. “You know damn well I’m not.”

  “She is lovely.” Diana was probably better than anyone besides Yuri at reading his innermost thoughts.

  “She’s my client,” he bit out in self-abnegation.

  Diana’s mouth curved upward. “But she’s a woman first, and you’re a man before you’re a P.I. Can’t you forgive yourself and enjoy the moment for what it is without getting wrapped up in all those noble ideals that rule your life and deprive you of what the rest of us take for granted?”

  You’ve come closer to the truth than you realize, Diana, and I’d do just that if were a mere P.I., but I’m not.

  There was no time for a reply, not even if Roman had manufactured one, because Cal and Brit had left the dance floor and were almost upon them.

  Diana suddenly got up from the table. “Would you like to go to the powder room with me, Brit?”

  “I was just going to ask you the same thing,” came the quiet reply.

  Roman grimaced, not knowing whether to be relieved or frustrated at the prospect of being left alone with Cal who never let anything go without a thorough dissection of the problem first.

  Cal’s eyes resembled slits as he sat back in the chair and stared Roman down. “How long exactly have you known this woman?”

  “You already know the answer to that.” His voice grated.

  “Whoa.” Cal broke out in a secret smile. “I always knew when it hit, you wouldn’t know which way was up.”

  “Enjoying the show?” Roman fired back with uncharacteristic sarcasm.

  Cal’s smile widened into a grin. “What makes this so nice is that Brit appears equally dazed and breathless in your presence.”

  Try as he might, Roman couldn’t tamp down the excitement that little piece of unsolicited information produced. Not when it came from someone who was as shrewd a judge of character and as close to him as Cal.

  “You think it’s nice?” Roman ground out, feeling uncontrollably aggressive and damn well close to exploding.

  “All you’ve got is prewedding nerves. Only two more days, old son, and you’re home free.”

  That did it. “Maybe your hearing is going out on you, old son,” Roman retorted. “For the record, it’s going to be a fake ceremony.”

  Cal didn’t bat an eye. “Surely you’re not going to let a little piece of legality stand in the way of performing your husbandly duty.”

  “Shut up, Cal.”

  “If that’s what is bothering you,” he went on talking unabashedly, “I know a real minister who would be more than happy to oblige.”

  “We’re back, in case either of you wanted to know.”

  As far as Roman was concerned, Diana’s melodic voice had intruded at precisely the right moment. He pushed himself away from the table and got out of the chair.

  “That’s good because something has come up and we’ve got to go.” He purposely refrained from looking at Cal, and instead flashed a glance at Brit who appeared to be busy studying the napkin he’d just thrown down on the table next to the empty champagne glass. She’d barely touched hers.

  Brit unexpectedly excused herself and headed for the elevator. Roman went after her, leaving Cal and Diana behind.

  As soon as the doors closed he said, “Next time, wait for me to escort you, Brit. We’re supposed to be engaged. Just now you forgot that fact.”

  She tossed her head impatiently. “I didn’t forget. But when you brought up the subject of leaving so abruptly, I assumed an emergency had arisen to do with your work. I was only trying to expedite matters.”

  You idiot, Lufkilovich. “I appreciate your sensitivity. This is a new role for both of us. Plan to stay close to me and follow my lead at the shower tomorrow night, then there will be no problem.”

  “Speaking of tomorrow,” she said as they got in his car a few minutes later, “I really should put in a few hours at work. Usually on Sunday no one else will be there and I can get a lot accomplished without the phones ringing.”

  “Fine. I’ll come with you.”

  She bowed her head. “Is that really necessary? I mean, a security guard is always on duty. I hate to take you from your work.”

  Roman was beginning to wonder if he and Cal had misread the signs and the attraction was all on Roman’s side after all. It might save the day if that were the case.

  But the very real possibility that her emotions weren’t as involved as his, upset him a lot more than he would have imagined. He actually felt savage.

  “We’ve already established that you hired me to work for you.”

  “Then I won’t go into the office.”

  His brows formed a frown line. “Surely your work is as important as mine.”

  “It is, but I’d be dragging you away from your study where you can get a lot of other things done at the same time you’re guarding me!” she explained a little too hotly. Good. She wasn’t as in control as he’d thought.

  “That’s true. Perhaps if this case takes longer than I originally anticipated, we can negotiate some sort of compromise.”

  “You mean like my bringing home some of my work?”

  “Exactly.” For reasons he couldn’t analyze right now, her suggestion went a long way toward appeasing him. “It would be no trouble to get you a drafting table and equip the spare bedroom into an office for you. Let’s just wait and see what develops. As for tomorrow, I go where you go.”

  It took her a long time before she said, “All right.” Her voice was practically inaudible. In the short time he’d known her, he had already learned that when she temporarily ran out of fight, she went very quiet. He liked that aspect of her. Hell. He liked every aspect of her.

  So did half a dozen other guys he didn’t know who had been invited to the party Denise gave for them the following evening. Married or single, they congregated around her, lit up when she talked, watched her as she moved easily around Denise’s living room with Roman on her arm.

  The simple, modest, black sleeveless dress provided the perfect foil for her gleaming ash-blond hair. It was an experience just to watch her walk, particularly when she was unconscious of her impact on the opposite sex.

  To make things look normal, a couple of the P.I.s who were off duty came to the party with escorts. They introduced themselves as old friends of Roman’s to go along with the story he’d told Denise’s brother that he’d once lived in Salt Lake, before his parents moved to New York.

  Before the party broke up, Denise asked for everyone’s attention so they could play a game. Unbeknownst to him and Brit, everyone was supposed to have brought a gift that had some significance in their past lives. It could be anything, old or new.

  The game started with the gifts for Brit first. As each was unwrapped, she had to recall the private memory which inevitably produced laughter and tears—an old record danced to, a class picture of an embarrassing moment, some castanets from a spring break trip to Mexico. It
ems that made Brit laugh and cry.

  As Roman sat at her side, entranced, reacting the way any enamored fiancé would do, it suddenly occurred to him that he’d forgotten this party was all part of a charade. For a little while the lines had become so blurred that Roman himself hadn’t been able to distinguish between truth and fiction. These people assumed his impending marriage to Brit was for real.

  It felt far too real.

  With this realization came a fresh wave of guilt over what he’d done. He’d told her that she would have to agree to his plan—which was to go undercover as her husband—or else find herself another P.I.

  How glibly he’d told her that once her case was solved, she could go back to her normal life and announce to all her friends that their marriage hadn’t been for real, that everything had been pretense.

  He looked around the room at each animated face. Everyone here was happy for Brit. How were they going to feel when they found out the truth?

  You’ve worked for the CIA too long.

  After so many years of manufacturing one lie after another, Roman realized how easily he’d fabricated this plot to trap Glen Baird at his own game, never counting the cost to Brit and her friends. Until now, he’d always felt like what he’d done in the name of truth and justice was honorable.

  “It’s your turn, Roman,” Denise prompted him, jerking him from his torturous thoughts. “I believe Eric—is it?—has a little something for you.”

  The first P.I. Roman had hired, and the greatest practical joker of all time, tossed him a package from the couch where he was sitting. A distinct twinkle in his eye warned Roman that he probably wouldn’t like what was in the small, gaily wrapped box.

  Roman felt Brit’s watchful gaze on him as he undid the paper and lifted the lid, careful to make sure not even she could see inside.

  A lily.

  Under the right circumstances it might have been amusing, even funny, but Roman had never felt less like laughing. A new sickness hit him in the pit of his stomach.