Hired by Her Husband Read Free

conversation stopped. Yet somehow he didn’t think he was alone.
    Was that Sam who’d come in? Was he standing there now, staring down at him in silence?
    It was the sort of juvenile nonsensical thing they’d done as kids to try to psych the other out. Surely Sam had grown out of it by now.
    George shifted—and winced as he tried to roll onto his side. His shoulder hurt like hell. Every muscle in his body protested. If Sam thought this was funny…
    George flicked open his eyes and his whole being—mind and body—seemed to jerk.
    It wasn’t Sam in the room. It was a woman.
    George sucked in a breath. He didn’t think he made a noise. But something alerted her because she had been sitting beside his bed looking out the window, and now as he stared, dry-mouthed and disbelieving, slowly she turned and her gaze met his.
    For the first time in nearly four years he and Sophy—his wife—were face-to-face.
    Wife? Ha.
    They might have stood side by side in a New York City judge’s office and repeated after him. They might have a legally binding document declaring them married. But it had never meant anything more than a piece of paper.
    Not to her.
    Not to either of them, George told himself firmly, though the pain he felt was suddenly different than before. He resisted it. Didn’t want to care. Sure as hell didn’t want to feel!
    The very last thing he needed now was to have to deal with Sophy. His jaw tightened involuntarily, which, damn it, made his head hurt even worse.
    “What are you doing here?” he demanded. His voice was rough, hoarse from tubes and dry hospital air. He glared at her accusingly.
    “Irritating you, obviously.” Sophy’s tone was mild, but there was a concern in her gaze that belied her tone. Still, she shrugged lightly. “The hospital called me. You were unconscious. They needed next of kin’s permission to do whatever they felt needed doing.”
    “You?” George stared in disbelief.
    “That’s pretty much what I said when they called,” Sophy admitted candidly, crossing one long leg over the other and leaning back in the chair.
    She was wearing black wool trousers and an olive green sweater. Very tasteful. Professional. Businesslike, George would have said. Not at all the Sophy of jeans and sweats and maternity tops he remembered. Only her copper-colored hair was still the same, the dark red strands glinting like new pennies in the early morning sun. He remembered running his fingers through it, burying his face in it. More thoughts he didn’t want to deal with.
    “Apparently you never got around to divorcing me.” She looked at him as if asking a question.
    George’s jaw tightened. “I imagined you would take care of that,” he bit out. Since she had been the one who was so keen on it. Damn, but his head was pounding. He shut his eyes.
    When he opened them again it was to see that Sophy’s gaze had flickered away. But then it came back to meet his. She shook her head.
    “No need,” she said easily. “I certainly wasn’t getting married again.”
    And neither was he. He’d been gutted once by marriage. He had no desire to go through it again. But he wasn’t talking about that to Sophy. He couldn’t believe she was even here. Maybe that whack on the head was causing him to hallucinate.
    He tried shutting his eyes again, wishing her gone. No luck. When he opened them again, she was still there.
    Getting hit by a truck was small potatoes compared to dealing with Sophy. He needed all his wits and every bit of control and composure he could manage when it came to coping with her. Now he rolled onto his back again and grimaced as he tried to push himself up against the pillows.
    “Probably not a good idea,” Sophy commented.
    No, it wasn’t. The closer he got to vertical, the more he felt as if the top of his head was going to come off. On the other hand, he wasn’t dealing with Sophy from a position of weakness.
    “You should rest,” she offered.
    “I’ve been resting