Читать книгу: «Did You Say...Wife?»

Chapter One

Jocelyn resisted the impulse to pull her thick winter coat more snugly around her, knowing that the chill she was feeling wasn’t from the weather outside. It was coming from the silent man beside her.

Surreptitiously she studied Lucas Forester, her eyes lingering on the slight cleft in the middle of his square jaw. Longingly her gaze moved upward, searching for some hint of thawing in his formidable reserve, however slight. She couldn’t find one. His lips were compressed, and his brown eyes were staring straight ahead. He could have been alone in the car for all the notice he was taking of her.

In just eight days she would have worked out her notice and she’d have to leave. Leave and never see him again. Panic filled her, but she refused to even acknowledge it. There was no point. One thing her miserable childhood had taught her, and taught her well, was never to rail against the Fates. It did no good. The Fates simply didn’t give a damn. Either that or they had it in for her personally. And after this latest turn of events, she was beginning to wonder.

She chewed on her lip in impotent frustration. It was all so unfair. She hadn’t done anything except to briefly think that Bill Forester might be someone special. It hadn’t taken her very long to realize she was wrong. To figure out that he was an egomaniac who had exactly two interests in life. Himself and the pursuit of pleasure.

Lucas on he other hand…Instinctively her gaze returned to his beloved profile. Lucas’s hard work had more than doubled the worth of his company in the five years since his father’s death. And where he might take it in the next five years…

Pain lanced through her at the knowledge that she wouldn’t be there to see him do it. At the thought of a future that didn’t include daily contact with Lucas.

She’d get over it, she told herself, trying desperately to believe it and failing miserably. Lucas Forester made every man she had ever met fade into insignificance.

“I think I’ll stop before we get to the airport for dinner,” Lucas stated, and Jocelyn barely suppressed a shudder at his harsh tone. The indulgent, patient man she’d worked with for the past six months had vanished ten seconds after reading her resignation. If only it hadn’t been necessary to give notice. If only she could have just not shown up for work. At least then she could have taken away happy memories of their last weeks together. Instead she would be left with the memories of a stranger. A rigidly polite, icily cold stranger who made no secret of the fact that he was furious at her sudden decision to quit. And for the flimsiest of reasons, as he’d pointed out to her when, in response to his demand to know why, she’d muttered something inane about needing time to find herself.

“Is that all right with you?” Lucas demanded, and Jocelyn jumped as the clipped sound of his voice sliced through her thoughts.

“Yes, that’s fine,” she hastily agreed.

“There’s a place a few miles ahead that serves decent meals. Not that it would have to be much to be better than airline food,” he said.

“No,” Jocelyn answered cautiously, not sure if his comment called for an answer. Apparently it hadn’t because he lapsed into silence again, concentrating on maneuvering over the icy patches the snowstorm had left on the road.

Stifling a sigh, Jocelyn resolutely focused on the dismal landscape outside the window. Buffalo in December looked as desolate as her heart felt.

Lucas shot a quick glance at the delicate lines of her averted profile and felt the now-familiar, stomach-churning mix of anger and betrayal flood him again. How could she even consider leaving him? For six months they had been a team. For six months they had worked closely together, laughing at the same things, feeling the same sense of outrage at the same societal ills, arguing amicably over the best way to fix those ills. He’d gone from thinking she was the best administrative assistant he’d ever had to believing that she was unique, a woman without a hidden agenda. A woman who could be trusted. He’d actually believed that she liked him, Lucas Forester the man, and not Lucas Forester the wealthy industrialist who could bankroll her every indulgence.

He’d gone from an abstract appreciation of her beauty to a realization that she was the most incredibly sensual woman he’d ever met. He’d spent long nights imagining all the ways he wanted to make love to her. He’d actually begun to believe that it could be safe to become emotionally involved with someone he employed. That business and pleasure could be successfully combined.

And with one short, typewritten page she’d shattered every one of his beliefs. In the length of time it had taken him to read her resignation, he’d realized that he’d been wrong. Dead wrong. None of the loyalty and liking she’d projected toward him were real. Not even the interest she’d shown in her job had been real.

Hell, she hadn’t even bothered to lie about having found another position. She’d given him some song and dance about taking time off to find herself. What she’d undoubtedly found was some poor sucker who was willing to buy her what she wanted without the necessity of working for it.

Anger burned painfully in his chest. He was lucky, he told himself. Lucky to have found out that Jocelyn was just another fortune hunter before he had given her even an inkling that he…

Lucas instinctively shied away from examining exactly what he did feel for her, because it didn’t make any difference. In eight more days she would be gone, and he’d never see her again. And he was glad, he told himself. His father’s second marriage had taught him the absolute futility of loving a woman who wanted what a man owned and not what he was.

If only…He resolutely squashed the thought. Dwelling on might-have-beens was totally pointless.

A few miles further up the road, he caught sight of the restaurant he was looking for and, flipping on the turn signal, pulled into the lot. It took him a moment to find a place to park. It appeared that many other travelers were taking a break from the bad road conditions.

He pulled into one of the two last spaces and cut the engine. Getting out, he automatically rounded the car to open the door for Jocelyn, only to find that she had already scrambled out. Almost as if she were telling him that she wouldn’t accept anything from him, he thought sourly. Not even an exhibition of good manners.

Frustrated, he shoved his hands into his pockets and stalked across the parking lot beside her. They were at the door before he realized that he’d forgotten his briefcase, which contained his cell phone. He needed to check in with Richard, his senior vice president, and find out what was going on back at the office.

“I forgot my cell phone.” He bit out the words, and Jocelyn shuddered as their rough edges grated across her nerves. “Go inside. I’ll be in as soon as I get it.”

Without another word, Lucas turned on his heel and headed back toward the rented car.

Jocelyn watched his lean figure as he walked away from her, wanting to run after him to explain why she had to leave. But the impulse died instantly. It wouldn’t work. She knew it wouldn’t work. She’d been over and over her options in her mind a million times. After his father’s disastrous second marriage to his secretary, Lucas was determined never to become emotionally involved with a woman who worked for him. When you added that bias to the fact that she had not only dated his hated half brother but had spent a night alone in a hotel room with him…

There was no way Lucas’s casual liking for her would overcome both his own prejudices and the web of lies Bill would weave. Even if Lucas didn’t fire her, he would view her with suspicion forever after. And she couldn’t bear that.

Damn Bill! she thought savagely. How could he do this to her? Because he didn’t think of her as a real person, she answered her own question. Bill moved through life as if he was the only real person in the world and everyone else was simply shadowy figures who had been put on earth to serve his needs.

Learn from the experience and go on. She repeated the mantra she had developed during a childhood spent in the uncertainties of foster care. But the thought brought no comfort. As far as she was concerned, after loving Lucas there was no place to go. No place but down. Down into a seemingly bottomless pit filled with pain and hopeless despair.

Maybe…

Jocelyn’s absorption in her problems was broken by the black sedan that had suddenly appeared in the parking lot. It was going much too fast.

With a sudden spurt of speed the driver swung the car into the empty parking space next to Lucas, intent on beating out the minivan approaching the space from the opposite direction.

Jocelyn’s breath caught in her throat as the sedan hit a patch of ice and began to skid sideways.

Sheer terror wrapped its clammy tentacles around Jocelyn’s mind, freezing her in place. Horrified, she watched as the driver tried to regain control of his car and failed. The car continued its skid. There was an audible thump followed by the heart-rending sound of crunching metal as the sedan crashed into Lucas’s car.

“No, please, God,” Jocelyn whispered incoherently, straining to see Lucas over the bulk of the black sedan.

As if the sound of her voice were a key, she was suddenly released her from the paralyzing effects of her terror.

She sprinted across the parking lot intent on reaching Lucas. Her mind refused to even contemplate the idea that it might be too late to help him. The thought of a world that didn’t contain the man she loved was too horrific to even contemplate.

She reached the sedan, and a quick glance showed her that Lucas was unconscious and trapped between his rental car and the sedan. Trapped and bleeding badly.

Racing around to the passenger side of the sedan, she pulled the door open. The middle-aged driver looked up and began to babble, “I didn’t mean to hit him. It wasn’t my fault! I slipped on the ice. It wasn’t my fault, I tell you.”

Furious that he was wasting time trying to justify his actions instead of helping Luke, Jocelyn grabbed the man’s coat and, fueled by a surge of adrenaline that left her light-headed, yanked him out of the car.

“It’ll be your fault if you don’t get him help!” Jocelyn yelled at him as she shoved him backward. “Go call an ambulance.”

“An ambulance?” the man parroted and then, when Jocelyn took a step toward him, hurriedly turned and starting running toward the restaurant.

Jocelyn slipped into the driver’s seat of the man’s car and turned the key in the ignition. To her profound relief, the engine turned over. Keeping her foot firmly on the brake so that the car didn’t jump forward, she gently eased the car into Reverse. Once she was sure she was completely clear of Lucas, she hastily backed it completely out of the way and cut the engine.

Jumping out of the car, she ran back to Lucas who was lying on the pavement in a pool of blood.

She dropped to her knees beside him, trying to figure out where all the blood was coming from. His head, she quickly realized. She had to stop the bleeding, she thought as she watched the blood oozing from a wound that started on his right temple and ended somewhere in his thick brown hair.

Reaching into his inside suit pocket, she yanked out the pristine white handkerchief he always carried but never used.

The steady beat of his heart as her hand brushed across his broad chest steadied her somewhat. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as it appeared, she tried to tell herself. Head wounds always looked worse than they really were because of all the blood. Anyone who watched television knew that.

Act now, worry later, she told herself, firmly pressing the cloth against the wound.

“Let me in there, miss. I’m a doctor.” A strange man knelt beside her. His large, competent-looking hand closed over her makeshift bandage.

“Honey, get my bag out of the trunk.” The man tossed the command over his shoulder.

An interminable moment later a plump, middle-aged woman carrying a black leather bag gently pushed Jocelyn out of the way and took her place.

“Don’t you worry, dear,” the woman told her. “My husband is as good as they come, and in my heyday I was one of the best O.R. nurses going.”

“That’s nice,” Jocelyn muttered inanely, shivering convulsively as she retreated just far enough to give them room to work. If anything happened to Lucas, she didn’t think she’d ever feel warm again.

Jocelyn closed her eyes and tried to pray, but she couldn’t form a single coherent thought. The sight of Lucas’s white, blood-stained face lying on the black tarmac filled her mind to the exclusion of everything.

“Good, the ambulance is here,” she heard the doctor say, and Jocelyn turned around to see a green-and-white ambulance, its red lights flashing, pulling into the parking lot. Close on its heels was a black-and-white police cruiser.

“Unless I miss my guess, your husband is going to need surgery immediately,” the doctor continued. “It’s a good thing you’re here to give permission. You are his wife, aren’t you?” he asked, suddenly noticing her ring-less fingers.

“Yes.” Jocelyn had no compunction about lying. She’d do whatever it took to make sure Lucas got the help he needed.

“We work together, and I never wear my rings at the office.” She tried to explain away her lack of a wedding ring.

She turned as the ambulance stopped and a husky man and a tall, thin woman jumped out. The man ran to Lucas, took one look and yelled something to the woman. She ran around the back of the ambulance, swung open the doors and yanked a large, red metal box out of it. Racing to Lucas, she squatted beside the doctor and her colleague.

“I tell you it wasn’t my fault, Officer!” The sedan driver’s whiny voice rasped across Jocelyn’s ragged nerves.

She swung around and, her anger fueled by her stark fear for Lucas, snapped, “If you hadn’t been going too fast, you wouldn’t have skidded.”

“What’s the name of…” The policeman glanced down at Lucas’s quiet form and winced.

“Lucas Forester,” Jocelyn supplied.

“And this is his wife, Officer,” the doctor said. “I’ll be in the restaurant if you should need to talk to me.

“Try not to worry, my dear. We have an excellent local hospital.” The doctor patted Jocelyn’s shoulder and then turned and left.

Reaching into his pocket, the policeman pulled out a tissue and handed it to her.

“Wipe your face, Mrs. Forester. As cold as it is out here, your tears will freeze to your skin.”

Tears? Jocelyn ran the back of her hand across her cheek, shocked to find it wet with tears. She scrubbed them away.

“I tell you it wasn’t my fault. How was I supposed to know there was ice there?” the driver of the sedan insisted.

“Not only that, but when she yanked me out of my car, I think I sprained something,” he complained.

The policeman studied Jocelyn’s slight frame for a long moment before he turned and ran his eyes down the entire length of the man’s well-padded, six-foot length.

“And why, sir, did the lady find it necessary to pull you out of your car?” the officer asked.

“I was shocked,” the man blustered. “I was shocked and instead of letting me gather my wits, she just yanked open the door and pulled me out of my own car.”

“considering the amount of intelligence you had shown to date, waiting for you to find any wits you might have would have taken too long!” Jocelyn snapped.

“Well, I—”

“Go into the restaurant, sir, and wait there for me,” the policeman ordered. “I’ll be in to talk to you as soon as Mr. Forester is on his way to the hospital. Edna,” the officer addressed his partner, “go along with him and make sure he doesn’t have anything to drink. I don’t want his blood alcohol results to be questioned.”