Marriage Confidential. Debra Regan
We?”
“It’ll raise too many questions if the first time I show up to one of your events we don’t go home together.”
“You’re overreacting.” Her molars might crack from the strain. Thoroughly exhausted, she refused to give his paranoia more fuel.
“Jake, are we being followed?”
“Always a tough call on a Friday night in traffic.”
Sam grunted. “Do what you can to find out.”
“Sam, I’m tired,” Madison said. “I want the peace and quiet of my apartment.”
“You promised me answers about this whole marriage business.”
“Isn’t the morning soon enough?”
“No. I’d like to hear the whole story tonight.”
“Hang on.” She scooted closer to him and lowered her voice. “You still don’t sleep?”
He pushed a button on the console in the ceiling and the privacy screen rose between them and the driver.
Suddenly the space was far too intimate and way too reminiscent of her silly teenage-girl prom night fantasy. The illusion she’d harbored of Sam walking into the dance and taking notice of her as a girl rather than a friend. In her illusion, he’d crossed the room and kissed her right there in front of everyone. Even back then she’d known it was an impossible dream. Sam was too shy for such a public display, but she’d dreamed it anyway, night after night. Now she was a woman and she had a better understanding of what to wish for and with whom.
“Madison.” His hand was gentle and warm against her bare shoulder. “Just tell me the story.”
“We’ve been married almost two years. July Fourth is our anniversary.”
“How patriotic of us,” he quipped.
She tilted her head. “It came down to available time off for me, time between projects for you.” She managed to play it cool until the driver suddenly took a hard right. The force dumped her into Sam’s strong embrace.
“What the—”
She tried to be grateful as he righted her before she could snuggle deeper into his embrace. “He’s checking for a tail,” Sam explained.
“Does this happen often?”
“Rush only hires the best. You’d be surprised how many people try to hassle us.”
So maybe his paranoia had stronger roots than the trouble she’d dumped on him tonight. Maybe, with a little time, he’d understand her rash actions.
“Which is my real question,” Sam pressed. “Why did you choose me?”
She brought her mind back to the issue, tried to deliver the facts in a linear, logical order. “I’m aware other cultures view single women differently, even when they’re in the US,” she said. “I hadn’t worried much about it, but it soon became obvious I needed a polite excuse to rebuff advances. Wearing a wedding band is a common tactic, although it doesn’t always stop the most persistent people.” She rubbed the platinum setting on her finger with her thumb.
“What do you mean?”
She glanced up, catching a flash of anger in his brown gaze. “Possessive of a wife you just met?”
His short bark of laughter was cool, breaking the tension. “Apparently.” He motioned for her to continue. “Creating a mythical husband is understandable.”
“I based the myth on you.” She moved her hand up and down. “Your looks, skills, all of it. Easier than creating a husband from scratch.” She hoped he believed her. “I promise I never used your full name. I can’t recall using your first name very often and never with anyone outside of my office.”
“Why was I the foundation for your imaginary husband?”
She swallowed, too mortified to give him the truth. The car swerved again and this time Sam fell her way. His big palm landed with a delicious pressure on her thigh and she marveled that the silk didn’t just evaporate under the heat.
He drew back quickly, the question lurking in his eyes.
“Because you were a friend I trusted.” Because using him gave her fake husband more than an image and career, it gave him a personality. “As for tonight, the most expedient way to get you on the guest list was to own the lie and make it real. No one would question the clearance for my husband.”
“Ah. Got it.”
He didn’t, not completely. If she was lucky, he’d never know the whole story of her ongoing infatuation with him. “Besides, you did owe me a favor.”
“I’d say we flew right by even and you owe me now.”
He was right and she felt terrible for it. “We don’t have to keep up the ruse.” She could manage things from here. “You saved the day blocking that hacker. Now you can go do your thing and I’ll do mine. We don’t have to play happy couple anymore.”
“You’re wrong about that.” He drummed his fingertips on his knee.
She frowned at him. “Pardon me?” She knew the schedule and while there were several events where a date would be nice, his presence wasn’t required. “I can go back to attending functions alone. It’s not a big deal.” After the past few hours she knew having Sam around would be the real problem because she let his presence distract her.
“I disagree. Now that I’ve been identified, there will be repercussions. Liu already assumes a relationship to me through you.”
“He’s lamenting the idea that his son is a loser who will shame the family,” she said. “The topic tends to come up at every opportunity.”
Sam gave her a look she remembered, the one that was part query and part disappointment in her answer. “Is the kid a loser?”
She preferred discussing a stranger to confessing her personal sins. “He’s young, arrogant and entitled. That may or may not improve while he’s in college.”
Sam sighed, apparently satisfied. “The museum will need to stay on alert. They should also take stronger measures to shut out more hacks.” He opened his mouth to say more, but the intercom beeped.
“Trouble,” Jake reported.
“You know what to do,” Sam replied. “Don’t worry,” he said to Madison.
“What trouble?” Madison twisted in her seat. The street behind them was crowded with headlights. “What does he know to do?”
Sam shrugged and she wanted to slap that smug expression off his face. “He drives a specific route we can tap into later for potential identification.”
“Can he do that and then take me home?” she pleaded. “I have a meeting first thing in the morning.” She wanted to get out of these heels and into her pajamas before she wrote up her report on the evening.
“On a Saturday?”
“Really?” She leaned back. “That’s rich, the perennial workaholic criticizing my schedule.”
“What happened to your famous, unflappable composure?” He patted her knee. “You pulled off a marriage charade along with mostly false assurances that an irreplaceable treasure from China is secure without batting an eye. Sitting back while my driver evades a tail shouldn’t be a big deal.”
She couldn’t tell what he expected of her. At this hour she didn’t care. “Take me home. I’ll be safe in my building.”
“Fake or not, tonight you’re safer with your husband,” he said, catching her as the driver’s next turn pitched her into him again.
She couldn’t control her runaway imagination. In