After Hours (11 page)

“Yes, yes,” he said irritated. “I know all that, but...” He rubbed the back of his neck. “There are a lot of things I don’t remember.” He swore. “Things I should.” He sighed. “Does father know about us?”

“No and--.”

“How are you handling the media?”

“We’re trying to contain it as much as possible.”

“Good. Any sign of weakness...”

“Makes you fresh prey.” She finished.

He nodded grimly. “You know my father well.”

“And I know you too and I think--.”

“Have the police found anything?” he asked.

“They’re looking into it.”

His brow rose a fraction in disappointment. “You know I don’t like vague responses.”

“So, whoever shot you is like a ghost. He wasn’t caught on any of the cameras, but it’s still early.”

“The 48 hour window is closed,” Curtis said in a grim tone.

“But they’ll keep the case open. Now you can hardly keep your eyes open. You need to rest.”

“Hmm.”

She turned to leave, hoping the motion would encourage him to let her hand go.

He kept his grip on her wrist and tugged her to him. “You’re just going to leave?”

“Yes.”

“Without even a kiss goodbye?”

A kiss? This was proof he was insane! Amera briefly thought of slapping him. She’d thought of doing so many times before, but she couldn’t. Especially when he was looking at her with such a trusting brown gaze. Plus, he’d suffered enough head trauma. But she couldn’t kiss him,
could she
? Maybe a kiss could shock him back into his senses. He never displayed affection. He’d likely be disgusted. Disgusted was good. Amera fought back a grin before she pressed her lips against his. She’d intended for it to be a little awkward and sloppy, but somehow Curtis adjusted his head and mouth and turned her attempt into something warm and delicious.

Soon she felt like she was sinking into sweet, melted caramel and felt as hot as a flame. She quickly drew away, the heat of confusion and arousal burning her face. She felt mortified. She’d kissed him, but somehow he’d ended up kissing her. It had been a stupid strategy, even if it did shock him from his amnesia. She stared at him, ready for the dark look of distaste, but another dark look entered his gaze. One filled with a savage rage.

“I’ll catch him,” Curtis vowed. “And make sure you’re never this frightened again.”

Amera nodded her head, almost crying in delight when he released his grip. She didn’t fear his imaginary enemy, the one he thought had threatened their lives. She’d worked for him for five years and witnessed his mercurial moods and temper, but she’d never seen him as a man before. Now that was all she could see--the magnificent size of him, the amazing breadth of him, the astounding beauty of him. And for the first time in five years, she feared him.

His face changed, but she couldn’t read the expression. He pushed the sheets away and swung his legs over the side.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“We’re leaving. I can see the fear in your eyes. You’re not telling me something.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” she said pushing him back before he could stand. “They have to observe you a few more days.”

"I can sign a waiver. Let’s go.” He stood too fast. His lips grew white, his face pale before he pitched forward. She caught him and stumbled under his weight. He wore only a hospital gown, so she could feel every part of him, pressed against her, with intimate accuracy. She swallowed hard and managed to push him back onto the bed.

She called him a few names under her breath as she lifted his legs and settled him back against the pillows. She wiped sweat from her forehead and struggled to get her breathing back to normal. Why did his body have to feel so hot and heavy? Why did her body seem to like it? She shook her head. She had to get out of there.

“What happened?” he asked, sitting up, then wincing.

“You need to be careful,” she said adjusting his pillow. “You fainted.”

He stared at her alarmed. “No, I didn’t.” He tugged on his hospital gown. “I probably tripped on this stupid thing.”

“It doesn’t go to the ground.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? I look like an idiot. I want--”

“Your pajamas and slippers. I know.”

“Not the--”

“Fine knit cotton blend, but the silk ones.”

A small smile touched the corner of his mouth and respect entered his gaze. “You do know me well, but of course you would.”

Yes, she would. She’d helped him pack for business trips many times. But she knew telling him so wouldn’t make a difference.

He reached for her hand again, she moved it out of reach. He looked at her confused. “I’ve disappointed you that much that you won’t even let me touch you?”

“It’s not you,” she lied. “It’s...I’m still in shock. I was the one who found you. I was the one who cradled your head and watched your blood soak through my gloves. I had to talk to the police and admit that I didn’t know anything. If you know me at all, you know that I hate not being able to do something. You’ve been unconscious for two days, while Owen and I did as much damage control as possible. I’m exhausted and I just want to go home.”

“You’re right. Everything is like a fog, but I never considered all that you’ve had to go through. I’ll make it up to you. Go home and rest.”

Amera stood frozen for a moment. She’d expected an argument not his compassion. “Thank you si--uh--Curtis,” she quickly corrected when she saw his jaw tighten. Saying his name felt awkward on her tongue, but she stumbled over it and pasted on a smile, eager to leave. “Bye.”

***

“Well?” Owen asked when Amera came out of Curtis’ hospital room.

“You’re right it’s bad,” Amera said, fighting to keep her voice steady. She tugged on her blouse wishing she didn’t feel so hot.

“He still thinks he has a wife?”

“Yes.”

“Who?”

She cleared her throat. “Me.”

Owen’s brows shot up. “
You’re
his wife?”

Amera shook her head. “No, he
thinks
I’m his wife.”

Owen nodded looking pensive.

Amera frowned. “This is the part where you burst into laughter.”

He slapped his forehead. “Of course. Now it makes sense.” He grinned. “You were keeping it a secret.”

“There is no secret.”

“I overheard you talking about the ring. He gave it to you.”

“As a joke.”

“Bishop doesn’t joke.”

“He did that night.”

“So he proposed at night?”

“He didn’t propose. It was just after dinner--”

Owen’s eyes widened. “You had dinner with him?”

Amera held up both hands. “It’s nothing, but a long boring story that--.”

“It’s okay. I know what happened. You had to keep it from his father right? So you had a secret marriage and you were going to pretend that you were just engaged so that--”

She hit him on the shoulder. “I am
not
his wife.”

“Then why does he think you are?”

She tapped the side of her head. “Because he’s suffered major head trauma.”

“But he thinks you are. Just play along for a couple of days.”

“I can’t do that,” Amera said in a sharp tone, trying not to remember his kiss, even though her burning lips wouldn’t let her forget. “I can’t even go back in there.”

“You have to. You may be able to find out who did this. We both know it wasn’t random.”

“I know.”

“But even if someone tried to knock him off, we’d have a hell of a time finding out who. Everybody hates him and a lot of people would be happy to see him gone.”

She sighed. “I know.”

“You’d have a list of suspects the size of a dictionary.”

“I know.”

“You’d have an easier time finding someone who didn’t
want
to kill him.”

Amera held up her hand and glared at Owen. “Shut up.”

“Right. Sorry.” He made a motion of zipping his lip, but couldn’t keep his mouth closed long. “But this could work for you. As his wife you can stay by his side and look out for him, see if anything in his life or anyone is acting strange. He trusts you. There are no major deals coming up, so his schedule won’t be a problem. Maybe you can get him to stay hidden for a while and I'll take care of the rest.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Amera folded her arms. “I cannot pretend to be his wife.”

“Do you know the power you now hold?”

“Power?”

“Yes. Curtis Bishop is a grade-A bastard with memory loss. What if there are things his executive assistant couldn’t get him to do that his wife can?”

Amera bit her lip, tempted at the thought. Owen was right. Curtis wouldn’t remember his plan for closing the factory or refusing her proposal. Or even, that he had fired her. What if over the next several days she could change his mind and get what she wanted? The words
Ready to live dangerously?
popped in her mind. Was this how things were to go? She’d ruined her first pair of stockings, tearing them on the pavement and getting blood on them while helping Curtis, but she couldn’t believe her luck. This was her chance to make this beast human again, before it was too late. It would be a bold action, but she was ready to take the risk.

“What if his memory comes back?”

“The doctor believes the short term ones are gone for good. You could do a lot and get away with it, Ms. Thurston.”

Amera folded her arms and stared down at the ground. He was going to get rid of her anyway and if she could do some good in the process, it would be worth it. With Owen’s help she could pull it off, at least for a few days or weeks, then pick a fight with him and ask for a divorce. She’d deal with the consequences when the time came, but for now a prime opportunity had fallen in her lap. She looked at Owen then wiggled her fingers, letting her ring sparkle. “Hello, Mrs. Bishop.”

Nobody had come looking for him yet. Vernon sat in his bedroom and polished his boots as if nothing else mattered, although he’d been on edge for days. Damn, he’d messed up bad. He’d nearly smashed something when he learned that he’d hit Bishop instead of his intended target. The police weren’t giving out much information, but at least he wasn’t dead. That would have been a waste. He didn’t like killing people when they weren’t a threat. He considered trying again, but it was too soon and security would be on alert.

He hoped the incident would still work in their favor. With Amera distracted, she wouldn’t look too closely at them. And if she did, he’d know what to do, and this time there would be no mistake.

***

Amera sat in her car in the hospital parking lot, staring down at Susan’s card. She needed her help, but didn’t know how to ask her. She could still see Owen’s excited and eager expression after she’d agreed to their plan.

“You leave the logistics to me,” he said. “He has another day in the hospital. I’ll move your clothes and other necessary items into his place and let the staff know.”

“I can do that myself.”

Owen shook his head. “A Bishop wife never does any heavy lifting. You might as well get used to some perks, since it won’t last long. Of course, I’ll need a copy of your key and a list of anything special you want.”

“Okay, that’s what’ll need to be taken care of on the home front. What about the office?”

“Keep him away from the office. He still needs to recover. He can work from home. Hell his father does, it shouldn’t be hard to convince him to do the same.” He winked and smiled. “Wifey.”

Amera frowned. “Don’t call me that.”

His smile fell. “Sorry. Anyway, I’d give yourself a week, maybe two. Any holiday family gatherings we need to worry about?”

“This is Curtis, remember?”

“I was talking about you.”

“Oh, no. None.”

Amera still remembered the passing look of pity that had crossed Owen’s face. She stared down at the card. She didn’t need pity. She needed help and Susan was the only person she could think of to help her really pull off the role.

“Danger, here I come,” she said to herself as she dialed Susan’s number.

“Hello?” Susan answered on the first ring.

Amera hesitated partly hoping to be able to leave a message. “I’m sorry to bother you but I don’t...I mean...”

“It’s great to hear from you.”

“Uh...thanks.”

“What’s wrong?”

My boss thinks I’m his wife and I want to fool him by playing that role
. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have bothered you.”

“Let’s get lunch.” Susan gave her the address. “My treat. See you in an hour.” She hung up before Amera could say no.

Amera smiled, knowing she hadn’t planned to.