Free Wife for Hire by Christine Bell

a tie when the shower stopped running. His gaze was drawn to the bathroom door. Images of a wet, naked Lindy assailed him. Her skin would be scrubbed and pink from the hot spray. Water would bead on her bare breasts, an errant droplet clinging to the tip of one dusky nipple. Then he could lean forward and capture it with his tongue.
    The ache that had finally subsided returned with a vengeance, straining against the zipper of his dress pants. He was still talking himself out of that train of thought when the bathroom door opened a few minutes later.
    “Is this okay, you think, or too dressy?”
    Lindy stood in the doorway, her tight little body wrapped in a candy-apple red mini-dress that fit her like a dream. Bare, golden legs capped off by nude platform heels made her legs look incredibly long in spite of her petite frame. He couldn’t help but imagine her, dress pooled at her feet, standing before him in nothing but those heels. In a word, she looked amazing. When he’d contacted the shopper at Sacks, he’d given her a list of measurements Lindy had supplied him and a description of her coloring and hairstyle. From what he’d seen so far, she’d done a spectacular job. He made a mental note to send a token of thanks.
    “You look great.”
    She fiddled with her wedding rings and gave him a self-conscious smile. “Thanks. I still have to do makeup and pick out jewelry.”
    He only nodded, uncertain his fly would make it if she managed to improve on this look.
    “You look pretty great yourself. Need help with the tie?” She thrust her chin at the cloth dangling around his neck.
    He meant to say no. He truly did, but the opportunity to get close to her, breathe in the sweet scent of her skin overrode his brain’s feeble objection. “Sure.”
    She stepped close and fiddled around at his collar. The heels gave her a few inches, and her minty breath was warm on his chin. It might have been his imagination, but he swore he could feel the heat coming off her body, so close to his. If he moved even a half step forward, they would be touching, hip to hip. Chest to breast. Thigh to thigh.
    “Is this silk?” Her voice sounded reedy and she continued to toy with his tie. “Feels like silk.”
    “Yes.”
    “Really slippery.”
    “Lindy?” He tried to keep the smile from his voice.
    “Yeah?”
    “Do you know how to tie a tie?”
    She shook her head and blew out a sigh. “No, not really. I’ve seen people do it on TV for their husbands and I thought, how hard could it be?”
    “We’ll put it on you and I can show you if you want. Then when you find this Prince Charming of yours and get married you’ll know how.”
    “No!” she stepped back. “I still have to do my makeup, and we’ll be late for dinner as it is. You go ahead and do it and you can show me another time.” The apples of her cheeks flushed, which made him feel a little better. At least he wasn’t suffering alone.
    He watched her retreat and yanked at his mangled tie. It was wrinkled beyond repair after her attempt at what appeared to be a sailors’ knot. He grinned and tossed it onto the bureau, crossing the room to get another. With Lindy in mind, he selected a red and silver striped one. It would look great next to her dress. Try as he might, he couldn’t stop the voice in his head that whispered, It would look even better wrapped around her trim ankle, or the carnal images of what he would do with her once she was tied. All his blood rushed south, and he groaned.
    God, he was screwed.

Chapter Seven
    By the time they got downstairs, dinner was in full swing, and two of the three large tables were already filled with the couples and staff members. Jordan waved wildly from the last table.
    “Lindy! Over here. We saved you a seat.”
    “Naturally,” Owen muttered.
    “Be nice.”
    She slipped an arm through his, and they crossed the vast hardwood floors of the great room. She was determined to ignore the frisson of awareness that snaked