Wife for Hire (For Hire 1)

“I think I will.” It would be the first time she’d danced in a setting like this since her mother passed, but suddenly it seemed imperative that she do it. Who knew? Maybe he’d show up there if he knew she was going, and she’d hate to miss an opportunity to find out something that could potentially further their investigation.

He strolled to a stereo system flanked by two giant speakers and fiddled with the buttons. A moment later, strains of new age music filled the space. “This okay for you?”

“Fine,” she said with a nod.

“I just left the gym, so I’m warm too. We can jump right in.”

He stood in the front of the room, motioning for her to join him. He led her through a series of moves, bridging the gap between them until he was only a few feet away.

“Want to try a couple advanced moves? I’ll help you.”

“I’m game,” she said with a smile.

“Feel the burn.” His hands pressed into her lower back, compelling her forward, further into the stretch. “Can you feel it?”

His voice was low…close to her ear. She tamped down the urge to pull away. If he was going to seduce her and then try to con her into investing in some bogus company, it was crucial she allow him to think he was succeeding to some extent.

“Yes. Feels good.” She matched her tone to his, trying to anticipate his next move. But there was no next move. Each time it seemed as if he might cross the line, he drew away. Interesting.

“Now on to your back.”

She complied, rolling her spine until she was sitting up and then slowly sinking down, using her core muscles to control her descent.

“Lovely. You’re in fabulous shape for this. Is your trainer a yogi, or do you do other types of exercise as well?”

“Trainer? Yes. My trainer is,” she cleared her throat, “ah, you know, an all-around trainer, basically. We do lots of stuff. Yoga. Jazzercise.” Crap, was that even a thing anymore? Her mom used to do it back when she was kid, and if memory served, there were a lot of leg warmers and sweatbands involved.

He didn’t seem put off. He looked impressed. “Sticking with the old school exercises. I like it. Okay.” He patted her knee. “Lift your legs up and settle into the plow pose.”

She swung both her legs up perpendicular to her prone body and used her hands to anchor her back. He assisted, encouraging her softly until her legs were behind her head. “Really nice, Belinda.”

“Lindy,” she corrected him on a gasp, trying to speak despite her squished diaphragm.

“Lindy, then. It’s a lovely name.”

She strained to hear something menacing or lascivious in his tone, but there was nothing. They moved through the routine, and he continued to assist her, but while he touched her often, it never escalated to a point that she could have called it inappropriate. If he planned to seduce her, he wouldn’t try today.

After a few more stretches, he pulled her to her feet. “Amazing. Same time on Wednesday? No point in you attending the beginner’s class.”

“Sure, sounds great.”

“Do you think your husband would want to join us?” He led her from the room. “If you do it at home together, no reason to buck the tradition.”

“He doesn’t do yoga with me back home.”

“Really? I assumed…he’s in such great shape.”

Didn’t she know it. “He works out a lot, but he doesn’t like yoga.”

Nico’s handsome face darkened into a frown. “Are you disappointed by that? I must say, there are thousands of men who would happily set aside their own plans to sweat next to a gorgeous woman. Don’t let his lack of interest in your hobby shake your confidence. I’m sure if he wasn’t such a busy man, he would be all over the opportunity.”

That was a backhanded compliment if she’d ever heard one, and she ruminated on it before answering. “Thanks. You’re right about him being busy. I’m lucky if he can make our monthly date night.”

Nico clucked his tongue disapprovingly. “I’m sure he wished he could be there.” But his tone indicated something else entirely.

Was there something to his behavior, or was he just an asshole? She’d have to dig a little deeper next time she saw him.

“I really appreciate the one on one. Great session.”

“My pleasure.” He stopped walking and gestured toward a large oak door. “This is my stop. I have some business away from the lodge tonight, so if I don’t see you tomorrow, I’ll see you for yoga Wednesday?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

He let himself in, and she gave him a jaunty wave, continuing down the hallway toward the great room. She walked in, her eyes immediately scanning the area for Owen, which didn’t take long. He sat by himself at a table reading the newspaper and looked up when she approached.

“Hey there. How was your morning? Still sore from the couch?” She tried to keep her gaze trained on his face, but she’d never seen him dressed so casually, and the athletic wear looked fantastic on him. If the whole venture capitalism gig dried up, he could easily capture hearts and imaginations if he were plastered on a billboard like that in Times Square. Or, even better, he might be able to pull off the whole David Beckham routine in nothing more than a pair of skivvies.

“I’m fine, a little tight, but not terrible.” He looked around to make sure no one was within earshot. “I spent some time with Nico at the gym, which was good. I skipped the morning sessions to take notes and make some calls.”

“How did things go with Nico?”

“Okay. Opened a dialogue, couple things I want to keep an eye on, but nothing solid yet. It’s going to unravel slowly, I think, so it was a good start. How was yoga?”

“Great,” she said, sliding into the chair across from him. “And funny you should mention Nico, because I spent some time with him as well. He came in about halfway through the class to see if there were any advanced students who wanted more of a challenge. We ended up having a private lesson next door.”

Owen set down the paper and stared at her. “Really?”

“Yeah. We’re going to do it again on Wednesday. I can’t say I learned anything particularly useful, but I do think the fact that he’s scheduling time with me could mean something. Maybe he’s grooming me for some sort of move later?”

“Did he touch you?”

The growl in Owen’s voice coupled with his flinty gaze had her sitting back. “Shh! And what do you mean? He touched me the way you touch someone when you’re teaching them in yoga. But in a sexual way? No. I thought you’d be happy he was angling to spend time with me. So what’s the problem?”

He unclenched his jaw, lowering his voice back to a murmur. “I am happy. You did great. He’s such a lowlife, and sometimes it makes rational thought go out the window. You’re a married woman in his eyes. Where does he get off seeking you out, getting you in a room alone and touching you?”

“When you say it that way, it sounds a lot more nefarious than it was. I’m a big girl. I knew what I was getting into when I signed on to do this. If his game requires seduction, we both knew I’d have to give him some encouragement to find out his end game. Do you want me to handle it a different way?”

“No.” He blew out a sigh and tapped a staccato rhythm on the table between them. “You did exactly right. Make sure keep to your guard up. I have no indication that he could be dangerous or violent, but he can be persuasive, and his view of what’s appropriate might not line up with yours. Things don’t need to get touchy-feely. So long as he thinks he has you mentally, you can certainly stall on the physical side of things.”

“Agreed. Believe me, I have no intention of letting him get too close.”

Several other people straggled in, and Owen glanced at his watch. “It’s couple’s time in twenty minutes. What’s the plan? You want to do the ballroom dancing or the team building?”

She pursed her lips. On the one hand, she felt a little bad for leaving Bitsy in the lurch and wanted to be there for support in case she got up the nerve to take the class without Calvin. On the other, the thought of being wrapped in Owen’s strong arms for the next two hours terrified her. Still, they had to get more comfortable with casual contact. At least this way they’d have chaperones to dissuade her from tossing him on the floor and having her way with him. “I’m already sweaty, so we might as well do the ballroom and save team-building for another day.”

“Sounds good.” Owen stood and pulled off his hoody, revealing a second-skin, black tank top. Her fingers itched to trace the line of his beautifully defined traps and rounded shoulders.

As she swallowed hard to avoid drooling, she realized she’d been dead wrong on one count.

Becks had nothing on Owen Phipps.

…

A half hour later, Owen cursed himself. Why had he let her choose their activity? A sweaty Lindy in his arms mirrored his dreams from the night before so completely that he could barely think straight.

It had started off well enough. Three couples had shown up along with a solo Bitsy Cedarhurst. Rather than pair them off by couple right away, the men worked with the female instructor, Talia, while the women worked with the male instructor, Marcel. They’d learned some basic salsa steps, and things were cruising along until they’d moved on to practicing the moves with their spouses. Bitsy stayed with Marcel and, if it wouldn’t have seemed totally weird and inappropriate, Owen would have asked to do the same with Talia. Instead, Lindy was wrapped around him like a starfish on a clam, and he could barely think straight, never mind execute the dance moves.

“Chin up,” Talia said, touching her index finger to his jaw. “Get out of your head, Owen. You have to feel to dance.” The cool blonde gave him an encouraging smile. “Let yourself go. Pretend it’s you and your beautiful wife, alone in a room where no one is watching.”

World’s worst idea, so instead, he did the exact opposite, imagining they were in a room filled with people. Tons of people. Screaming babies. Grumpy old men. His sister. Hell, anything to distract him from the feel of Lindy’s tight little body swaying sinuously against his to the throbbing Latin beat.

“Your hips should be touching,” Talia said, tapping Lindy lightly on the flank until she stepped in.

Their bodies were flush now, nothing separating them but two thin layers of cotton which, on the bottom half, wasn’t going to cut it with his interest steadily on the rise. Every twitch, every swivel, sent a bolt of lust to his groin. Mercifully, right when he’d run through the gamut of erection-killing images, Talia clapped her hands together and spoke.

“Okay, fine job everyone. Let’s separate back into groups and we’ll demonstrate a basic dip.”

Although he was grateful for the reprieve, it was short-lived. After ten minutes of dipping practice, Lindy was back in his arms, warm and flushed, her eyes bright with joy.

“Think you got this, Irish?” she asked, eyebrows raised in playful challenge.

“I believe I do, yes.”

Marcel cued up the music, and they began to dance. Lindy really was a natural. Her motions were so fluid and sensual, he could sit back and watch her dance all day. Instead, he had to be right up close while she gyrated and shimmied against him. He fought the good fight, he truly did, but it was a losing battle, and his erection bucked beneath the cotton of him his gym pants. Lindy’s expressive blue eyes widened when the evidence of his desire grew too powerful to ignore, jutting forward to nestle in the cradle of her thighs. She wet her lips with the tip of her tongue, and he fought the need to lean forward and capture it with his own.

The music came to a close, and he tilted her back in a low dip, cupping one cheek of her firm, round bottom in his palm. He stared at the pulse in her neck, leaping wildly beneath her golden skin. Time moved like molasses until slowly, purposefully she arched her pelvis upward, grinding into him.