Free Wife for a Day by Patti Berg Page A

They’d looked beautiful when she was all dressed up. Now they felt cold, impersonal, like almost everything tonight. Taking a deep breath, she took off the jewelry and set it on the dresser.
    Slipping her tote bag over her shoulder, she grabbed the handle of the sewing-machine case and headed for the bedroom door, stopping for one last look at the shimmering white gown she’d worn tonight, at the diamonds the hotel’s jewelry store had loaned Jack for the evening, at the rhinestone shoes that had sparkled when she’d stepped out of the limousine. Those things had made her feel all aglow as she’d walked and danced with Jack Remington.
    That glow had now begun to fade. The night was nearly over.
    So was the dream.
    When she heard Jack’s knock, she turned the knob.
    He filled the doorway, looking so handsome in his tux, his perfectly cut hair disheveled now, with a light brown lock falling over his brow. The expression on his face betrayednone of his feelings, and then he gazed at her lips. She could easily see the rise and fall of his chest as he leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb.
    He still wanted her. But he’d still be leaving in the morning.
    â€œYou didn’t by any chance change your mind about staying while you were in there?”
    She had no home to go to except her bug. No job to go to in the morning, only an apology to make to Mr. Antonio for taking his machine. Staying would be so easy, but she shook her head.
    â€œYou’re sure?”
    â€œPositive.”
    He studied her eyes for the longest time, as if waiting for her to show a sign that she’d changed her mind. But she didn’t waver, and finally he said, “Come on. I’ll walk you to your car.”
    He’d know she was living in her bug if he saw the clothes hanging in the back, the shoes on the floor, the boxes stacked on the backseat, and the pillow and blanket up front. He’d know she was down on her luck, and she didn’t want him to know about her troubles.
    She remembered the sneers, the leering eyes and taunts of people who’d chastised her mama for living on the streets, for not having a decent job. Mama hadn’t cared what thosepeople thought, and Sam had held her head high. But when they were alone she’d hear her mama cry, while she was crying, too. That wasn’t the life she wanted.
    It seemed as if she’d never get away from her past, no matter how she tried. Right now, the only good things she had in her life were a shred of dignity and her pride. She’d already put a damper on both by taking Jack’s money to play a part in his charade. If he knew more, she’d jeopardize whatever she had left.
    She hitched the strap on her tote bag higher on her shoulder. “The evening was magical, Jack. But why don’t we just say good-bye here?”
    He touched her arm, and she impulsively jerked away. She wanted to leave before she got hurt, and if he touched her again, if he made an attempt to kiss her, she’d fall into his spell.
    Laughing, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. “You hadn’t planned on leaving without this, had you?”
    She frowned, and then she knew what it was. She’d nearly forgotten the five thousand he owed her for spying on Peter Leighton. It seemed an awful lot of money for such a simple job.
    â€œAre you going to take it?” he asked, holding the check out to her.
    Guilt ripped through her. She didn’t want to take it, but over Jack’s shoulder she could again see their reflections in the window, and lurking behind her was a vision of Johnnie Russo, laughing as he sliced an index finger across his throat.
    As much as she wanted to tell Jack no, as much as she wanted to leave with a few shreds of self-respect intact, she took the check from his hand. Right now, money seemed far more important than dignity.
    â€œThat’s not made out to anyone,” he said, his gaze