Weekend Wife by Carolyn Zane

off?”
    Much to Ty’s chagrin, Uncle Denny didn’t need to be asked twice.
    “Why—” he chuckled at Helga’s delightful turn of phrase “—don’t mind if I do.”
    For Ty, the entire meal passed in a haze. Luckily for him, Denny kept the conversational ball rolling with Helga and Carmen, while Emily cast an occasional worried glance in his direction. He still couldn’t believe what was happening.
    Helga’s ribald laughter and bawdy jokes would have been the death of him, if Denny hadn’t seemed completely charmed by her incredible lack of social grace. Thank heaven for Emily.
    For even though Denny managed to put her on the spot more than once, she fielded his questions with an inborn sense of grace. If her answers were less than logical, well, that wasn’t her fault. Maybe, sometime between now and Monday night, he could get her alone and they could work on getting their “marriage” story straight. His eyes strayed back to Emily, who was looking suddenly flustered.
    “I don’t know... I guess that would be all right,” she hedged.
    Emily’s uncertain voice snapped Tyler out of his reverie and back into the conversation at hand. What were they talking about? He shrugged helplessly at her, looking for clues to the topic.
    Seeming to take his body language as noncommittal, Emily made an executive decision.
    “I know Carmen would be thrilled. And I’m sure if... Mother Helga would like to attend, we’d all love to. Wouldn’t we, hon?”
    What? Love to what? Tyler’s panic-stricken eyes were practically boring her in two with their intensity, as he tried to figure out what Mother Helga and Carmen would love to do with Uncle Denny. He smiled bravely and tried to exude that good, old Connstarr corporate confidence.
    “Ah, I guess so.” Whatever. If it made the owner of the company happy, then sure, hell, he’d go along with it.
    “That’s great!” Uncle Denny beamed, joyfully pounding the table till the china rattled. “I just know you’ll have a great time.”
    Helga snorted with glee. “Are you kidding, Denny, old boy? I’ll have you know, I bleed Dodger blue!” Yanking her napkin from around her throat, she wiped at the glob of salad dressing on her chin.
    “You’re a Dodgers fan?” Uncle Denny’s eyes misted slightly. “My dear, I had a feeling you were a woman after my own heart.”
    Punching the red-faced Denny affectionately in the arm, Helga said, “Fan? I practically lived at that stadium. Well, actually, I lived under the blea—”
    Tyler tossed his wineglass into the middle of the table in an effort to shut Helga up. “Oh, I’m so sorry! How clumsy of me,” he apologized, and shot Emily a glance that could wither the centerpiece on the table. Now not only was Emily going to the first big client meeting in his new position this coming Monday, but Helga and Carmen, too? They would never be able to pull this escapade off in front of Roxanne. Let alone a savvy client.
    “You knucklehead,” Helga huffed, and tossed her napkin over the river of wine that channeled its way across the table. “He always was a clumsy child,” she said, assuming the role of martyred mother with gusto.
    Emily smiled sympathetically at Ty. “Cheer up, hon. It could happen to anyone.”
    No. Not anyone. Just him. This could only happen to him.
    * * *
    Emily giggled. “You have to admit, it was pretty funny when your mother tried to show Uncle Denny her tattoo.”
    Ty groaned. “She’s not my mother. My mother would roll over in her grave if she were dead. We were never rich, but we were proud.”
    Studying Ty from where she sat across from him on the living room couch, she realized just how little she still knew about this mysterious man. He was an enigma. With his dark, brooding good looks and his snapping emerald eyes, it was hard to tell what he was thinking. Emily had a feeling that he was the type whose trust was hard-won. Something about the combination of cool aloofness he displayed in