Eligible Bachelors: Wife For A Week Part 1

WIFE FOR A WEEK.

KELLY HUNTER.

To generous hearts.

CHAPTER ONE.

HALLIE BENNETT had been selling shoes for exactly one month. One long, mind-numbing month working solo at the exclusive little shoe shop in London's fashionable Chelsea, and she really didn't think she'd last another. Back in the storeroom she'd sorted every pair of shoes by designer, then model and finally by size. Out here on the shop floor she'd arranged the stock by colour and within the colours, by function. Dusting and vacuuming? Done. Serving customers? Not yet but, hey, it was only midday.

Hallie picked up the nearest shoe, a pretty leopard-print open-toed sandal with an onyx heel, and tried to figure out why anyone would actually pay three hundred and seventy-five pounds for a pair of them. She dangled it from her fingertips, turned it this way and that before finally balancing it on her palm.

aSo what do you think, shoe? Are we going to cram a sweet size six like you onto a size eight foot today?'

A quick jiggle made the shoe nod.

aI think so too but what can I do? They never listen. These women wouldn't be caught dead in a size eight shoe. Now if they were men it'd be different. As far as men are concerned, the bigger the better.' The door to the shop opened, the bell tinkled, and Hallie hurriedly set the shoe back on its pedestal and turned around.

aDarling, what a thoroughly daunting shop! I swear, until I saw you talking to that shoe I didn't dare come in.'

The woman who had spoken was a study in contradictions. Her clothes were pure glamour, and her figure was a triumph over nature considering that she had to be in her late fifties. But her wrinkles were un-ironed, her hair was grey, and her adarling' had been warm, possibly even genuine.

aCome on in,' said Hallie with a smile. aLook around. Trust me, they never talk back.'

aOh, you're an Australian!' said the woman, clearly delighted with the notion. aI love Australian accents. Such marvellous vowel sounds.'

Hallie's smile widened, and she spared a glance for the woman's companion as he followed her into the shop, a glance that automatically upgraded to a stare because, frankly, she couldn't help it.

As far as women's fashion accessories went, he was spectacular. A black-haired, cobalt-eyed, dangerous-looking toy who no doubt warned you outright not to bother playing with him if you didn't like his rules. He was like a Hermes handbag; women saw and women wanted, even though they knew the price was going to be astronomical. And then he spoke.

aShe needs a pair of shoes,' he said in a deep baritone that was utterly s.e.xy. aSomething more appropriate for a woman her age.'

aYou're new at this, aren't you?' muttered Hallie before turning to stare down at the woman's shoes, a stylish pair of Ferragamo man-eaters with a four-inch heel. They were a perfect fit for the woman's perfectly manicured size-six feet. They were fire-engine red. aThere is nothing wrong with those shoes,' said Hallie reverently. aThose shoes are gorgeous!'

aThank you, dear,' said the woman. aWhy a woman turns fifty and all of a sudden certain people to whom she gave birth start thinking she should be wearing orthopaedic shoes is completely beyond me.' The woman seemed to age ten years as wrinkles creased and unshed tears leached even more colour from eyes that would have once been a bright sparkling blue. aYour father would have loved these shoes!'

Ah. It was all starting to make sense. He of the indigo glare was the woman's son and right now he was in big trouble. aRight,' said Hallie brightly. aWell, I'll just be over by the counter if you need me.'

He moved fast, blocking her escape. aDon't even think of leaving me alone with this woman. Give her some shoes to try on. Anything!' He picked up the open-toed leopard-print sandal. aThese!'

aAn excellent choice,' she said, deftly plucking it from his hand. aAnd a steal at only three hundred and seventy-five pounds. Maybe your mother would like two pairs?'

His eyes narrowed. Hallie smiled back.

aIf only I had something to look forward to,' said the woman with a sigh that was pure theatre as she sat on the black leather sofa and slipped off her shoes. aGrandchildren, for instance. I need grandchildren.'

aEveryone needs something,' said her son, looking not at his mother but at her. aWhat do you need?'

aAnother job,' said Hallie, kneeling to fit the sandals. aThis one's driving me nuts.' She sat back on her heels and surveyed the sandals. aThey fit you beautifully.'

aThey do, don't they?'

aHow do you feel about travel?' he asked her while his mother preened.

aTravel is my middle name.'

aAnd your first name?'

aHallie. Hallie Bennett.'

aNicholas Cooper,' he said and gestured towards the woman. aMy mother, Clea.'

aPleased to meet you,' said Clea, her handshake warm and surprisingly firm. aNicky, she's darling! She's perfect! You need a wife; you said so this morning. I think we've just found her.'

aWife?' said Hallie. Wife? That'd teach her to shake hands with strangers. Nicholas Cooper's smile was lazy. His mother's was hopeful. Probably they were both mad.

aHe's loaded,' said Clea encouragingly.

aWell, yes.' She could see that from the way he dressed. He was also far too amused for his own good. aBut is he creative?'

aYou should see his tax return.'

aI don't know, Clea. I think I prefer my men a little less...' What? She slid Nicholas Cooper another quick glance. s.e.xy? Wild? Gorgeous? aDark,' she came up with finally. aI prefer blonds.'

aWell, he's not a blond,' conceded Clea, abut look at his feet.'

Everyone looked.

He wore hand-st.i.tched Italian leather lace-ups. Size twelve. Wide.

aOf course, as his mother I can't let you marry him unless you're compatible, so maybe you should just kiss him and find out.'

aWhat? Now? Ah, Clea, I really don't think-'

aDon't argue with your future mother-in-law, dear. It's bad form.'

aNo, really, I can't. It's not that, er, Nicky doesn't have a lot going for him-'

aThanks,' he said dryly. aYou can call me Nick.'

aBecause clearly he does. It's just that, well...' She cast about for a reason to resist. Any reason. Yes, that would do. It wasn't quite the truth, but little white lies were allowed in sticky situations, right? aI wouldn't be very good wife material right now. I have a broken heart.'

aOh, Hallie, I'm so sorry,' said Clea in a hushed voice. aWhat happened?'

aIt was terrible,' she murmured. aI try not to think of it.'

Clea waited expectantly.

Obviously she was going to have to think of something. Hallie leaned forward and tried to look suitably woebegone. aHe was secretly in love with his football coach the whole time we were together!'

aThe cad!' said Clea.

aWas he blond?' said Nick. aI'm betting he was blond.' He was standing beside her, close, very close, and she was kneeling there, her gaze directly level with...oh!

aAre you sure you're not interested?' asked Clea.

Hallie nodded vigorously and dropped her gaze, looking for carpet and finding feet. Big feet. aIt's this job,' she muttered, more to herself than anyone else. Probably he was bluffing. Probably he had regular size-eight feet tucked into those enormous shoes. Her hand shot out of its own accord, spanning the soft leather of his shoe, testing the fit for width and finding it tight. Right. She pressed her thumb down and felt for toes, found them at the very top of the shoe. aPhew!' She felt breathless. aIt's a tight fit.'

aAlways,' he said, amus.e.m.e.nt dancing in his eyes. aBut I'm used to it.'

Hallie smiled weakly and scrambled to her feet as warmth spread rapidly through her cheeks. It was his eyes. His voice. Possibly his feet. Any one of them was a guaranteed temptation, but all three together? No wonder she was blushing.

aWhat my mother meant to say was that I need someone to pretend to be my wife for a week. Next week to be precise. In Hong Kong. You'd be reimbursed of course. Say, five thousand the week, all expenses covered?'

aFive thousand pounds? For a week's work?' There had to be a catch. aAnd what exactly would I have to do to earn that five thousand pounds?'

aShare a room with me, but not a bed, which is fortunate considering your broken heart.'

Was he laughing at her? aWhat else would I have to do?'

aSocialize with my clients; act like my wife.'

aCould you be a little more specific?'

aNope. Just do whatever it is wives do. I've never had one; I wouldn't know.'

aI've never been one. I wouldn't know either.'

aPerfect,' said Clea, bright-eyed. aI'm believing it already. Of course if the kiss isn't convincing it's just not going to work.'

aNo kissing,' said Hallie. aI'm heartbroken, remember?'

aThere has to be kissing,' he countered. aIt's part of the job description. Who knows? You might even like it.' There was a subtle challenge to his words, lots of amus.e.m.e.nt.

aKissing would cost extra,' she informed him loftily. What did she have to lose? It wasn't exactly the sanest of conversations to begin with.

aHow much extra?'

Hallie paused. She needed ten thousand pounds to finish her Sotheby's diploma in East Asian Art; she had five of it saved. aI'm thinking another five thousand should do it.'

aFive thousand pounds for a few kisses?' He sounded incredulous, still looked amused.

aI'm a very good kisser.'

aI think I'm going to need a demonstration.'

Now she'd done it. She was going to have to kiss him. Fortunately common sense kicked in and demanded she make it brief. And not too enthusiastic. One step put her within touching distance; a tilt of her head put her within kissing range. She stood on tiptoe and set her hands to his chest, found his shirt soft and warm from the wearing, with a hard wall of muscle beneath. But she digressed. With a quick breath, Hallie leaned forward and set her mouth to his.

His lips were warm and pleasant; his taste was one she could get used to. She didn't linger.

aWell, that was downright perfunctory,' he said as she pulled away.

aBest I can do given the circ.u.mstances.' Hallie's smile was smug; she couldn't help it. aSorry. No spark.'

aI'm not sure I can justify paying five thousand pounds for kisses without spark.' His lips twitched. aI'm thinking spark is a must.'

aSpark is not part of the negotiation,' she said sweetly. aSpark is a freebie. It's either there or it's not.'

aAh.' There was a gleam in his eyes she didn't entirely trust. aTurn around, Mother.' And without waiting to see if his mother complied, Nicholas Cooper threaded his hands through her hair and his mouth descended on hers.

Hallie didn't have time to protest. To prepare herself for his invasion as he teased her lips apart for a kiss that was anything but perfunctory. Plenty of chemistry here now, she thought hazily as his lips moved on hers, warm, lazy, and very, very knowledgeable. Plenty of heat as her mouth opened beneath his and she tasted pa.s.sion and it was richer, riper than she'd ever known. She melted against him, sliding her hands across his shoulders to twine around his neck as he slanted his head and took her deeper, tasting her with his tongue, curling it around her own in a delicate duel.

If this was kissing, she thought with an incoherent little gasp, then she'd never really been kissed before. If this was kissing, imagine what his lovemaking would be like.

His smile was crookedly endearing when he finally lifted his mouth from hers, his hands gentle as he smoothed her hair back in place. aNow that was much better,' he said in that delicious bedroom voice, and she d.a.m.n near melted in a puddle at his size-twelve feet. aWe'll take the shoes.'

Right. The shoes. She boxed the sandals with unsteady hands, swiped his credit card through the machine, fumbled for a pen and waited for him to sign the docket before she risked looking at him again. His hands were large like his feet, and his hair was mussed from where her hands had been.

What would it be like to pretend to be this man's wife for a week? Foolish, certainly, not to mention hazardous to her perfectly healthy s.e.x drive. What if he was as good as his kiss implied? What if they did end up doing...it? Who would ever measure up to him again?

No. Too risky. Besides, she'd have to be crazy to go to Hong Kong for a week with a perfect stranger. What if he was a white-slave trader? What if he left her there?

What if he was perfect?

He was halfway across the room before she opened her mouth. Almost to the door before she spoke. aSo you'll get back to me on the wife thing?'

At five thirty-five that afternoon, Hallie counted the day's take. It wasn't hard; she'd only made three sales and that included the shoes Nicholas Cooper had purchased for his mother. Next, she shut the customer door, turned the elegant little door sign to aclosed', and was about to set the alarm system when a breathless courier rapped on the display window and held up a flat rectangular parcel.

Not shoes, thought Hallie. Shoes did not arrive by courier in flat little parcels, even designer ones. But the courier's credentials looked real, the address on the parcel was that of the shop, and the name on the paperwork was hers so she opened up with a sigh, signed for the parcel, and locked up behind him before turning back to the parcel.

It was a brown-paper package tied up with string. Hallie snipped and ripped to reveal a slim travel guide to Hong Kong and Nicholas Cooper's business card. The card said he was a software developer. Good to know. She flipped it over and discovered a message on the back.

aMarco's on Kings,' it read in bold black scrawl, and beneath that, a7 p.m. tonight, Nick.'

Presumptuous, yes, he was certainly that. His kiss had been presumptuous too.

Not to mention annoyingly unforgettable.

So what if Marco's was one of the best seafood restaurants this side of heaven? No sensible woman would even consider his proposal. Pretending to be a complete stranger's wife for a week was ridiculous, even by her standards.

And yet...