Hired by Her Husband (5 page)

He was leaning toward the latter right now as Sam was standing there with a stethoscope, looking grimly official.

“Well, no. I can’t ground you. Or tie you to the bed,” Sam agreed drily. “I did think that perhaps I could appeal to your adult common sense, but if that’s a problem…”

George bared his teeth. It made his head hurt like hell. But then so did everything else he’d done today, which was pretty much nothing. He’d tried to read and couldn’t focus. He’d tried to write and couldn’t think. He’d tried to get up and walk around, but when he did, he’d barely made it back to the bed without throwing up. If they’d let him go home, he could at least get some sleep.

“It would be different if you didn’t live alone,” Sam was
saying. “Having someone who can keep an eye on you would make it more feasible.”

“Babysit me, you mean,” George grunted.

Sam grinned. “If the shoe fits…”

George glared. Sam just raised his brows, shrugged and looked back implacably.

Scowling, George folded his arms across his chest. “I’ll be fine,” he insisted. “I promise I’ll call if I think it’s worse.”

“No,” Sam said.

“I have work, a dog, a life—”

“A life?” Sam snorted at that. “I don’t think so. You teach physics, for heaven’s sake!”

It wasn’t all he’d ever done, but George didn’t go there. He just stared stonily at Sam and waited for him to give in.

“No,” Sam said. “Just because I broke your nose in sixth grade doesn’t mean I’m going to surrender my obligation as a doctor to give you my honest medical opinion.”

“
The hell you did!
I broke
your
nose!”

Sam laughed. “Well, at least your memory’s not totally shot.” He lifted a hand and rubbed it ruefully across the bump in his nose. “At least I gave you the black eye.”

“It wasn’t that black.”

“Pretty damn,” Sam said. “Anyway, we’ll talk about it tomorrow. We need to make sure the bleeding has stopped.” He nodded toward George’s head.

But George didn’t notice. His attention had been grabbed by the glimpse of someone just beyond the door.
“Sophy?”

Was he seeing things? She’d gone, hadn’t she? Done her “duty” and hightailed it back to California?

But just as he thought it, she poked her head around the doorjamb. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you. I thought Tallie might have come back.”

Tallie?
George started to shake his head, then thought better of it. “No. She went to get the boys from school. You talked to Tallie?”

Tallie certainly hadn’t mentioned it. His sister had breezed in this morning to see how he was doing. Well,
breeze
might not have been the right word.
Waddle,
maybe. She’d looked as if she was going to have her baby any minute. He hadn’t seen her in a month, and she hadn’t been nearly that big last time he had. He felt a little guilty calling her last night and asking her to take care of the dog.

That was mostly what they’d talked about when she’d come by this morning.

“Gunnar’s all taken care of,” she’d assured him. “Don’t worry about a thing.”

She’d left again, promising to drop by later.

“Don’t bother,” he’d told her. It was enough that she was taking care of Gunnar. And what the hell did Sophy want with her?

“I talked to her briefly,” Sophy was saying. “She came in as I was leaving. She will be back?” she asked now, as if it mattered more than a little.

“I hope not,” George said. “Why?”

“I—” Sophy hesitated “—have something to give her.”

“Leave it here. I’ll take it home when I go. She can get it from me.”

“Well, I—”

“But if it’s urgent, don’t bother,” Sam cut in, and George realized that he’d completely forgotten about Sam, who went right on. “He’s not going anywhere.”

“The hell I’m not!”

Sophy looked from him to Sam and back again, her eyes wide and questioning.

“Ignore him,” George said.

“Right, ignore me,” Sam agreed. “I’m only his doctor.”

“What’s wrong with him?” Sophy was looking at Sam.

“Other than being obstinate, bloody-minded and immature?” Sam raised a brow. “Not much. Well, no, that’s not true. But the rest is confidential. Patient privacy, you know? He’d
have to kill you if I told you.” He gave George a sly grin, then turned a far warmer one on Sophy, which was when George remembered that Sam always had had a thing for the ladies.

“Cut it out,” George said with enough of an icy edge to his voice that Sam’s grin faded.

His friend looked at him, then at Sophy, then back at him. “What?”

George gave him a steely look, but didn’t speak.

Sam looked at him curiously, gaze narrowing speculatively. But when George still didn’t say anything, he shrugged and made his move. Sticking out his hand he crossed the room toward Sophy. “Hi, pleased to meet you. I’m Sam Harlowe.”

She took Sam’s hand, smiled warmly back at him. “George’s doctor.”

“For my sins. And every once in a while—though not necessarily at the moment—his friend. And you are—?” He still had hold of Sophy’s hand.

“I’m Sophy,” she said. “McKinnon.”

“Savas,” George said flatly from the bed, loud enough and firmly enough that they both turned toward him. He raised his chin and didn’t give a damn if the top of his head blew right off. “George’s wife.”

“E
X-WIFE
,” S
OPHY
corrected instantly, staring at George in astonishment. “You do remember that, don’t you?”

George folded his arms across his chest. “I remember no one has filed for divorce yet.”

“You said you would. If you don’t, I will,” she told him fiercely, then flicked a glance at Sam Harlowe. He was, of course, watching this exchange with the fascination of a man with courtside seats at the U.S. Open.

“Well,” he said briskly, smiling as he did so, “I’ll just leave the two of you to discuss this, shall I? Nice to meet you, Sophy.” He squeezed her hand again, then raised a brow and gave her what could only be described as an “interested” look. The smile turned into a grin. “Let me know when you get your marital status figured out.”

She didn’t blame him for being amused. From the outside it probably was amusing. From where she stood her marriage to George was anything but. But she managed to give Sam a wry smile in return.

“I’ll do that,” she said, not because she intended to, but because it would obviously annoy George.

“See you tomorrow,” Sam said to George with a meaningful arch of his brows.

“Not here,” George said.

“No,” Sam began.

But George cut him off. “You said I could go home if I had someone to stay with me.”

“You don’t.”

“Sophy will do it.”

“I—”

George turned his eyes on her. “Payback,” he said softly. “Isn’t that what you came for?”

“You said—”

“I didn’t know, did I?” He was all silky reasonableness now. “I thought I’d be out of here today. No problem. But Dr. Dan here—” he gave a wry jerk of his head toward Sam “—thinks I need someone to watch over me, hold my hand, wipe my fevered brow—”

“Kick your bony ass,” Sam suggested acerbically

George didn’t even glance his way. He sat in the bed, the bedclothes fisted in his fingers, his unshaven jaw dark, his eyes glittering as his gaze bored into hers. “It’s what you do, isn’t it?”

She’d certainly like to kick his ass right now. Unfortunately she doubted that’s what he meant. “What are you talking about?”

“Rent-a-Wife. It’s your business,” he reminded her, as if she might have forgotten. “I’ll ‘rent’ you.”

Sam goggled.

Sophy gaped. She couldn’t even find words.

George could. “It’s simple. Perfectly straightforward. Like I said, it’s what you do. I mean, you did come and offer, but if you’re going to renege on your ‘payback,’ fine. I’ll hire you instead.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

He gave her a perfectly guileless look. “Nothing ridiculous about it. It’s sane, and reasonable. A suitable solution to a problem.” George was in professor mode now. She wanted to strangle him.

He looked at Sam. “You did say that, didn’t you?”

Sam rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, I—” And Sophy thought he might deny what George had said. But then he shrugged helplessly. “That’s what I said. You can go home if you get someone to keep an eye on you.
If
you take it easy.
If
you don’t do stupid stuff. No straining. No lifting. No running up and down the stairs. No hot sex,” he added firmly.

“Well, damn,” George said mildly while Sophy felt her cheeks burn. He gave Sam a quick smile, then turned his gaze back on her. “Dr. Dan says I can go home.”

Sophy ground her teeth. He’d boxed her in. Made it impossible to say no. But, why?

It wasn’t as if he wanted to be married to her. Clearly he didn’t. Just this morning he’d been vowing—promising!—to file for divorce. And now? She pressed her lips together in a tight line.

“How long?” She didn’t look at George, only at Sam.

“Depends,” Sam said slowly, and she could see him go back into his doctor demeanor as he thought about it. “He needs to remain quiet. Besides the concussion, which he will still be feeling the effects of, he has a subdural hematoma.”

He went on at length about the blood spill between the dura and the arachnoid membrane, telling her it was impossible to know how extensive the bleeding could be, that it might organize itself in five to six days, that it could take ten to twenty for the membrane to form. The longer he talked, the more detailed and technical Sam became. Sophy heard the word
seizure
and felt panicky. She heard the word
death
and her sense of desperation grew.

“Then this is no small matter,” she summarized when Sam finally closed his mouth.

“No, it’s not. So far he’s doing so good. But we’re not talking about Mr. Sensible here.”

They weren’t? George had always seemed eminently sensible—sensible to a fault almost—to Sophy. She looked at him, then at Sam.

“I’m giving you worst-case scenarios.” Sam assured her.

“Thanks very much,” she said drily.

“But it’s necessary. It’s why I won’t let him go if he’s going to be alone.”

There was silence then. Sam waited for her answer. George didn’t say a word, just stared at her with that “is your word good or not?” look on his face. And Sophy wrestled with her conscience, her emotions and her obligations.

“So you’re saying it could be days,” she said finally.

“Honestly it would be better for him to have someone around for several weeks. Or a month.”

“A
month?
” Sophy stared at him, horrified.

Sam spread his palms. “The chances of him needing anything are minimal. They go down every day. As long as he doesn’t do something to complicate matters. I’m just saying, if he’s alone, how do we know?”

Indeed, how would they?

Oh, hell.

Sophy understood. But she just didn’t like it. Not one bit. And she couldn’t imagine George liking it, either. Not really. She shot him a glance now to see how he was taking Sam’s news. His face was unreadable, his eyes hooded, his expression impassive. His arms were folded across his chest.

“I can’t stay a month or two,” Sophy said. “I have a life—and work—in California. I can’t leave Lily that long.”

“Bring her,” George said.

“Who’s Lily?” Sam asked.

“Our daughter,” George answered before Sophy could.

Sam’s eyes went round. His jaw dropped. “Odd you never mentioned any of this,” he murmured in George’s direction.

“Need to know,” George said in an even tone.

Sam nodded, but he blinked a few times, still looking a little stunned as his gaze went from George to Sophy and back again.

He wasn’t the only one feeling a bit shell-shocked.

All she’d intended to do was drop into the hospital long enough to give Tallie the key to George’s house, say thank-you for the few hours sleep and say that Gunnar was fine. She hadn’t even expected to have to talk to George again. After the way they’d left things this morning, she couldn’t imagine he’d have anything more to say to her.

“There must be ‘wives for rent’ in New York,” she said.

Sam didn’t offer an opinion. He tucked his hands in his pockets and retreated into bystander mode.

“I’ll rent you a wife,” she offered.

“So much for payback,” George murmured.

Sophy’s fingers knotted into fists. “You’d be able to come home.”

George just looked at her. “So you’re saying you won’t do it.” His tone was mild enough, but Sophy didn’t have to imagine the challenge in his words.

She clenched her teeth to stop herself saying the first, second and third things that came into her head. She got a grip, reminded herself that he was not himself—even though, frankly, he seemed more like himself than ever. And then she reminded herself as well that she owed him.

Ultimately she might have resented what he’d done by highhandedly proposing marriage and taking over her life.

But she’d let him.

She’d let herself be steamrolled. Had said yes because she knew George was all that Ari wasn’t, that Ari—even if he’d lived—would never have been. And she couldn’t even put a finger on when she realized she felt about George far differently and far more intensely than she’d ever felt about Ari.

She’d desperately wanted their marriage to work.

Finding out that she was just another obligation, one more of “Ari’s messes” that George had had to clean up had hurt her far more than Ari’s turning his back on her and fatherhood in the first place.

But that wasn’t George’s problem. It was hers.

And before she could move forward, she knew she had to do what she’d told him she’d come to do—settle her debts—even if what she was doing reminded her of the old cliché about the frying pan and the fire.

As for why George wanted her to do it when he didn’t want to be married to her, well, maybe she’d find an answer to that. Maybe, please God, there would finally be some closure.

She straightened. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

Sam’s eyes widened. George didn’t blink.

“But only for a month—or less if possible.” She met his gaze steadily. “Then we’re even.”

He wanted to just walk out then and there.

To get out of bed, dress and stroll out of the hospital as if he’d just spent the night in a not very pleasant hotel.

Of course it wasn’t as simple as that. He didn’t have any clothes, for one thing. His had been shredded and bloodied in the accident and cut from his body after. Getting out of bed hurt like sin. Strolling, of course, was impossible. He was on crutches and wearing a boot to give his ankle some support.

But at least Sophy couldn’t say he’d shanghaied her into staying under spurious pretenses.

What she did say, though, as he asked her to go buy him some clothes, surprised the hell out of him.

“Not necessary,” she said. “I’ll just go to your place and bring you some clothes back.”

“My place?”

She shrugged, dug into the pocket of her pants and held up a key. “Your house. I’ve got a key. It’s what I came to bring back to Tallie.”

His jaw dropped. He had to consciously shut his mouth. But he couldn’t keep it shut. He demanded, “She gave you a key to my house?”

Another shrug. “I was tired when I ran into her by the elevator. I hadn’t slept all night. And she had things to do.
The kids. Baking. Stuff for Elias. She couldn’t spend all day with Gunnar. So she asked me to spend the day at your place instead of at a hotel—and get some sleep at the same time. I didn’t snoop around,” she told him tartly.

He didn’t expect she had. Why would she bother? He shrugged awkwardly. “I was just surprised.”

“Yes, well, it wasn’t my idea. But it was a nice bed,” she allowed. “And Gunnar is lovely.” She smiled the first really warm genuine smile he’d seen since she’d been here. Better even than the smile she’d given Sam.

“He’s a good dog,” George allowed gruffly.

Their gazes met, and there was a moment’s awkward silence, probably because it was the first thing they’d agreed on since he’d opened his eyes and found her in his hospital room.

Her gaze slid away before his did. She seemed to be staring at the key in her hand.

“So, fine,” George said after a moment. “Go back to my place and get me some clothes. I’ll be getting signed out of here while you’re gone.” He told her where things were.

Sophy nodded. “I’ll be back.” She shook hands with Sam again on her way out. “You’ll leave me lots of instructions? Things to watch for?”

“I’ll make a list,” Sam said. “And you can call me anytime.”

Now her smile for him was as warm as the one she’d had when she talked about Gunnar.

“Take your time,” George muttered.

Sophy shot him a glare and stalked out, taking her luggage and briefcase with her.

“Well, now. You never told me about Sophy,” Sam said with a knowing grin.

“No need.”

“Not for you maybe,” Sam laughed. “Must be an interesting
history you two have. And a daughter, too? Did I ever really know you, Georgie?”

George just looked at him. “Stuff it.”

“A month? You’re joking.” But it was clear from her voice that Natalie didn’t think it was a laughing matter. “You didn’t commit yourself to staying a month in New York. Did you?” she demanded.

Sophy sighed, tucking her phone between her jaw and her shoulder as she opened one of George’s dresser drawers and took out boxers, a T-shirt and a pair of socks. “Hopefully not a full month. Maybe just a couple of weeks. But yes, I did. I have to, Nat.”

“You don’t
have
to.”

Sophy shut the drawer. “All right, maybe not in the strictest sense of
have to.
But in the world I live in, I owe George.”

“For what?”

“For…things. He’s a good man,” Sophy hedged, moving on to the closet. She didn’t want to discuss this with Natalie, but she had no choice. They were business partners. If she was going to be gone three or four weeks, that would require adjustments.

Life, it seemed, was full of adjustments these days. She pulled a button-front shirt off a hanger in George’s closet and took a pair of khakis off another hanger. It seemed like too intimate a thing to be doing—prowling through George’s clothes—which was why she’d called Natalie while she was doing it. So she’d focus on business and not on being in George’s room.

“A ‘good man’ doesn’t explain anything,” Natalie said.

So Sophy told Natalie what Sam had told her and ended with, “So he needs someone with him. To keep an eye on him. To make sure he doesn’t have more bleeding.”

“And you think you’re the only one who can do that?”

“No, I don’t think I’m the only one who can do it. But right
now George does. And—” she sighed “—I need to humor him.”

“Did his doctor say that?”

“No. But getting George stressed isn’t going to make things better.”

“And
you’re
not going to get him stressed?”

Sophy gave a short laugh. “Can’t promise that, sadly.” She had folded the shirt and khakis and now added them to the single shoe she’d stuck into the grocery bag she’d found in the kitchen. No point in bringing the other since he had an orthopedic boot on his left foot. Then, clothes gathered, she started back downstairs. Gunnar followed her down.

“It’s not about the head injury,” Natalie decided.

“Maybe not,” Sophy allowed. “Maybe we just need some closure.”

“I thought you were already closed.”