A Proper Wife

He wanted the whole nine yards: a church with sun streaming in the stained-glass windows, flowers at the altar and along both sides of the aisle. He wanted an organ playing—hell, he wanted violins and a cello and a choir. There’d be groomsmen and bridesmaids—but most of all, there’d be Devon, gliding toward him in a white lace gown and gossamer veil.

They’d take their vows and slip gold rings on each other’s fingers. He’d given Devon a gold ring at that rushed little ceremony months ago but it hadn’t meant much more to either of them than a cigar wrapper. The ring he’d give her this time would be one she chose, a perfect complement to the fiery diamond engagement ring she’d wear to proclaim his love.

Of course! That was how to do it. He wouldn’t tell her he loved her now, not just yet. First, he’d buy her a ring, a diamond as beautiful and as flawless as she was. And he’d make dinner reservations at La Salamandre. Hell, he’d do better than that, he’d tell Alain he wanted to reserve the whole damned restaurant.

And when the moment was just right, he’d slip the ring from his pocket, take her hand in his, and say—

“Oh, Ryan, whoever would think we’d run into each other here?”

Ryan was so far away, happily lost in the imaginary world where he and Devon would begin their new lives, that at first he didn’t even recognize the woman’s voice, or her face.

But when she shrieked his name again, he blinked his eyes and brought her into sharp, unwelcome focus.

“Sharon,” he said, and forced a smile to his lips. “How nice.”

Sharon smiled at him as if there had never been a cross word between them the last time they’d seen each other, almost six months before.

“You look wonderful,” she said happily. Before he could take a backward step, she flung her arms around his neck, rose on tiptoe, and planted a kiss on his lips. “But then,” she said, laughing, “you always do.”

Ryan’s eyes met Devon’s over Sharon’s glossy head. He smiled uncomfortably and lifted his eyebrows.

Devon didn’t react.

Well, that wasn’t true. She was reacting; her silence, her frozen face—that was reaction enough. Ryan knew that much. It was the same way he’d seen women react in the past, when they decided they had a claim on his full-time attention.

But Devon did have a claim on his full-time attention. She was his...she was—

“Ryan, darling,” Sharon purred, “aren’t you going to introduce us?”

“Oh. Oh, of course.” He took Sharon gently by the shoulders and put her at arm’s length. “I, ah, I don’t think you’ve met my... my...” Hell, what was the matter with him? Devon was his wife; it was a word he wanted to spend the rest of his life saying and here he was, choking over it the very first time he tried to use it. “Sharon,” he said firmly, “this is Devon. My wife.”

He held out his arm. Devon looked at it for what seemed an eternity before she moved forward and let him settle it around her shoulders. She smiled politely at Sharon.

“Hello,” she said.

Sharon’s smile was equally polite. “How do you do, Yvonne? It’s very nice to meet you.”

“It’s Devon,” Devon said politely. “And it’s very nice to meet you, too.”

“Your wife is so pretty, Ryan,” Sharon said, turning up the wattage on her smile as she swung toward him. “Why have you been keeping her in hiding?”

“I haven’t been. That is, I’ve been busy. Well, you know how it is...”

Damn. Damn! He was almost stuttering, but why? Sharon meant nothing to him; Devon meant everything. It was just that it was awkward, being confronted by your former lover with your... your wife at your side, especially when until fewer than twenty-four hours ago, you hadn’t felt as if you had a wife at all.

“Ah, I see. It’s Devonne who’s been keeping you under wraps.” Sharon gave a gay little laugh. “You mustn’t do that, you know. We’ve all missed seeing Ryan around town.”

“I haven’t kept him anywhere,” Devon said, shooting Ryan a tight smile. “Isn’t that right, Ryan?”

“Well... well...”

“Isn’t that cute? The cat’s got Ryan’s tongue.” Sharon batted her lashes. “Does she keep you on such a short leash, darling?”

“I don’t keep him on any kind of leash,” Devon snapped. “Actually, Ryan and I have a very modern relationship.”

“Really,” Sharon said, lifting her eyebrows.

“Really,” Devon said, fighting a losing battle to keep her temper under control.