Wife for Hire by Christine Bell Page B

absently against her calf. Her feet were adorable, like the rest of her, and he was hit with the inane desire to press a kiss to her instep, maybe slide higher to her slim ankle, the back of her knees, the crease—
    “Don’t you think?”
    He shot his gaze up to meet hers and she stared at him expectantly. What had he missed?
    She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously “Are you drunk or something?”
    “I had one glass of wine.”
    “Why are you acting so weird then?”
    He wondered what she would say if he told her the truth. I was perfectly sane before I met you, but the need to lick you from head to toe is slowly driving me insane.
    “It’s been a long day.”
    “You’re telling me,” she said with a derisive snort. “I had the same day you did, but I did it all in two different pairs of four-inch heels.” She slipped off her other shoe and groaned, kneading her coral-tipped toes into the thick carpet.
    “Why don’t you let me rub your feet?” The offer was out before he could stop it, but the look on her face kept him from retracting it. Longing mixed with wariness, and the combination compelled him to convince her. “I dated a bird who waited tables back when I was younger, so I’m quite good at it. And maybe this is the kind of thing we need to be doing at any rate. You’re about to jump out of your skin every time I touch you. This will break the ice a bit, make us a little more comfortable with casual contact in public.”
    She shook her head mournfully. “I know. It was bad tonight. I choked big time when you came up behind me. It’s been a long time since I’ve been half of a couple, and our—” she ticked off two-fingered air quotes “—courtship was such a whirlwind. I guess my body hasn’t caught up with my brain yet. When you’re single and someone gooses you from behind, your first reaction is ‘stranger danger!’ not ‘fake husband,’ you know?”
    He didn’t, but he nodded anyway. “It’s all right. This is a couple’s retreat. We don’t need to look happy, but we do need to look comfortable with one another.”
    She tossed her shoes into the corner and hobbled over to the couch. “Okay, I’m in. But could you try not to be…” She squinted her eyes and made an exaggerated, slow rubbing motion with her hands. “All sexy about it?”
    He swallowed a grin and gave a solemn, three-fingered Scout’s Honor. “I shall endeavor to do exactly that. Although, being as virile as I am—” The air whooshed out of him on an oomph when the pillow she’d tossed hit him in the gut.
    “And Jordan thought I was the abusive one? If she only knew.”
    She chuckled, tucking herself into one corner of the couch while he took off his sports jacket and loosened his tie. He sat on the opposite end and patted his thigh. “Up you go.”
    She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, then released it and laid her foot on his lap. He did his best to ignore the toned thigh and shapely calf only inches away. Instead, he cupped her ankle in his hand giving it a casual caress before pressing both thumbs into her instep. She moaned and instantly stiffened, her gaze flying to his.
    “Sorry about the sound effects. That feels so good, though.”
    “It’s supposed to, and it’s okay to make appreciative noises. It lets me know I’m doing a good job.”
    Her curious eyes widened. “Oh. Okay then. Mark never wanted me to make noise at, you know, anything.” She swallowed audibly and fidgeted with her wedding ring. “So I’m used to trying to keep it down.”
    Owen didn’t try to hide his disdain. “I can’t say I know who Mark is, but he’s clearly a fuckwit.”
    She laughed, that full out belly laugh that made him want to puff up his chest for being the cause of it.
    “Mark is my ex. We dated for a couple years back in college.”
    He had access to all this and obviously had no idea what to do with it, Owen thought, with an irrational surge of jealousy.
    He didn’t comment further on