Free Test of Time by Jayne Ann Krentz

spent a night together. Nothing worse can happen, right? Just stick around and give me a hand for the next few months. You can think of it as just another job. You'll be doing the same kind of work you did for your father. We'll make it official. I'll pay you a salary."
    Katy's eyes widened in astonished dismay. "Six months! But, Garrett…"
    "All right," he said wearily, as if she had just driven a terrifically hard bargain. "You win. Make it three months."
    Chapter Four

    Three months!
    As she sat curled into her corner of the Mercedes, staring at the curving coastal highway unwinding ahead of her, Katy still couldn't believe she'd allowed herself to get talked into the deal. Three months of living with Garrett. Three months of living with the illusion of being his wife. The time stretched out ahead of her, an endless sentence. It was going to be sheer torture.
    So why was a part of her unaccountably relieved, she asked herself with wry self-honesty. She knew the answer to that question. She loved Garrett, and even as she had told him she wanted out of the ill-starred marriage, she had been breaking up inside. Now she had a three-month reprieve. Garrett had tried to coerce her into accepting that reprieve, but the truth was, she had allowed herself to be pushed into the arrangement.
    Guilt was a powerful motivator, but it wasn't strong enough to keep her with Garrett unless that was where she wanted to be. Katy knew that. Dreams were even more powerful than guilt when it came to motivation, and a part of her did not want to let go of her fantasy.
    It was stupid to allow herself to start dreaming again. Nothing would change in three months. Garrett would be the same man at the end of that time as he was now: hard, determined, his eyes fixed on his own vision of a future that was run according to his rules. Under those rules he got what he wanted without having to risk himself emotionally. He was a man with no room in his life for anything as soft as love. He admitted it.
    But Katy knew that in spite of her best efforts to stop it, a thread of hope was once more coiling itself into a glittering skein that could easily blind her to reality. Three months was a long time. A lot could happen in three months.
    If she was very lucky.
    Katy slanted a covert glance at Garrett, who was driving with his usual relaxed concentration. He had said very little since they had checked out of the hotel. He'd slipped back into his strong, silent act, Katy decided derisively. But then, she hadn't had a whole lot to say, either. The truth was, she was still feeling rather stunned by the unnerving events that had taken place last night.
    "Hungry?" Garrett broke the long silence to ask.
    Katy had a difficult time refocusing her thoughts. When she did so, she was astonished to discover that she actually was hungry. "A little."
    "Hardly a surprise after that poor excuse for a breakfast you ate. I told you to have something more filling than a slice of toast."
    "Yes, you told me. I wasn't hungry then." Katy stared sightlessly out the window.
    "You mean you didn't feel like doing anything I suggested," Garrett countered with more insight than Katy had expected him to demonstrate.
    Katy's mouth tilted ruefully. "That was probably a factor."
    "Well, at least you admit it. Are you going to spend the next three months acting as if your whole life has been put on hold?" It was the first hint of irritation Garrett had shown since he'd won the battle in the hotel room.
    "Isn't that exactly what's happened?"
    "I don't see where you're any worse off now than you were working for your father. You'll be doing the same kind of job." He paused as something crossed his mind. "Almost the same kind of job," he amended.
    Katy had a strong hunch Garrett had qualified the statement because he had just remembered that she was married to him and that his status as husband still carried certain marital privileges. She felt the warmth in her cheeks as memories of her wedding