She ground her teeth, wishing she could blurt all that out, throw her resignation letter in his face and stalk out of his life. But gazing into his eyes she couldn’t bring herself to do it. And that made her furious with herself. Coward! Sniveling, cringing, lovesick coward!
Straightening her shoulders, she eyed him with as much nerve as she could marshal. She didn’t like the deception he was planning. Just because Mr. Rufus, the elderly founder of the Yum-Yum Baby Food company, chose to live a reclusive life on his own private island, and would never suspect the lie, was no reason to do this shameful thing.
She eyed her boss narrowly. “Would you like me to rent you a couple of kids, too?” she quipped, trusting her sarcasm said it all.
He watched her for a second without any noticeable reaction to her wisecrack. “No,” he said after a heartbeat. “A wife will do.” Turning away, he went back to poring over the papers on his desk. “That will be all, Peabody.”
Dismissed, she wheeled around to escape. Her flight across the plush, jade carpet created no sound; her sensible pumps hardly made an impression. The irony galled. Even his carpet hardly registered her presence. As for Mr. Parish, he thought so little of her it didn’t occur to him that she even had the capacity to crack a joke.
Of course, neither did his cell phone or his fax machine.
Thirteen days after Mr. Parish chose the beautiful redhead, Miss Dawn Day, to be his fake wife, it was time to put the fraud into action.
Sunday morning, May 3, Izzy and her boss stood in La Guardia’s TransGlobal First Class lounge. Any other time the room would have had a relaxing influence, decorated in earth tones, leather and luxuriant green plants. But today, it was obvious that Mr. Parish saw none of it.
“She’s late.” He scowled at his watch. “Did you send James with the limo?”
“Yes, sir.” Izzy closed her notebook, hoping he was through giving orders for the coming week. “I’m sure they’ll be along any second.” She started to put her notebook inside her shoulder bag, then hesitated, glancing at him. “Any other instructions, sir?”
He regarded her with a disgruntled frown. “Did you say something, Peabody?”
“I said, will there be any other instructions?”
“Oh.” His jaw worked. “No.” He shifted to check the door of the lounge. Almost unforgivably, it remained closed.
Izzy opened her purse and deposited her notebook inside. Her hand brushed her resignation letter and she bit down on the inside of her cheek. For the millionth time since she’d written the thing she was racked with indecision. Her fingers curled around the envelope. Now would be a good time to give it to him, her logical side urged. He’d have a week away from you to get accustomed to the idea. He probably wouldn’t even be cross when he returned.
“What about her ticket?”
Izzy jumped, yanking her hand from her purse as though it held a poisonous snake. “Um, uh, I sent it by messenger. She got it. I called and checked.”
Gabriel Parish scowled and Izzy was captured by the picture he made standing there before the large window. He glanced down. Morning sun glinted off the tips of his long eyelashes, then flashed off the gold of his Rolex as he snapped up his wrist.
In an expensive ebony suit and bold black-and-white striped tie, he exuded self-confident masculinity—a sight that would make any female heart flutter. The furtive peeks of other women in the lounge went unnoticed by her boss, heedless of everything except his immediate concerns. But they were glaringly apparent to Izzy. Masking a dejected sigh, she snapped her purse shut. Once again, she couldn’t bring herself to hand him her resignation letter. Not today.
Movement at the lounge entrance brought Izzy’s gaze around to see an incredibly lovely woman burst through the door. Her long, trim legs ate up the distance, even encumbered as she was by impossibly high ankle-strap stilettos. Her chic yellow suit-dress set off her figure and flowing red hair to extraordinary advantage. Izzy’s heart sank to some deep pit as her boss’s hired wife neared, smiling, her gaze riveted on Mr. Parish. If ever there had been a perfectly matched duo in the world, Dawn Day and Gabriel Parish were that duo. It would be easy to believe they were a couple—both tall, intimidatingly perfect—icons for their gender.
“She’s here,” Izzy said, appalled at the dejection in her tone.
“Ah, good.”
The sound of Mr. Parish’s voice drew her gaze to his face. His troubled frown gone, he smiled at the woman. Behind the new arrival trailed James, Mr. Parish’s driver. A tiny frown rode his sandy brows, no doubt due to worry that he might be in trouble for getting Miss Day there so late.
The redhead held out a perfectly manicured hand. “Mr. Parish? I’m Dawn Day.” Her voice was soft and low, every bit as alluring as her face and figure.
Reaching deep inside herself for the willpower to keep her expression composed, Izzy studied her from a few steps behind her boss.
“I’m sorry about the delay. I had a slight problem, but it’s nothing to concern you.” She placed a hand on her cheek, then seemed to realize what she’d done and dropped it. Izzy thought the jerky move odd and looked closer at the woman’s face.
Mr. Parish took her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dawn.” His smile was so dazzling it could have made angels cry. Obviously he was pleased with what he saw. “You’re here. That’s what matters.”
Dawn smiled again, then winced slightly. Her hand fluttered to her cheek, then darted away.
“Is anything wrong?” Izzy asked, moving to get a closer look.
Dawn’s big, blue eyes found Izzy and her smile faltered for a fraction of a second. “Why...no. What could be wrong?” The faintest edge of trepidation in her voice heightened Izzy’s concerns.
Dawn shifted her gaze to Mr. Parish. “I have my boarding pass.” She held it up. “So all is well.”
He lifted it from her fingers, slipping it into his pocket with his own. “It should just be a few minutes.” Taking her arm, he added, “Why don’t we sit?”
As Mr. Parish led his striking companion toward a seating area that looked more like a man’s cushy den than a waiting room, Izzy noticed what appeared to be a slight puffiness along the redhead’s otherwise perfect jawline. Once again the woman tentatively touched the place. Izzy had the impression Mr. Parish’s fake wife might be in some pain.
James touched Izzy’s shoulder. “When do I pick them up again?”
She didn’t look his way, but continued to survey Dawn’s profile. “A week from today. Five o’clock in the afternoon ”
“Should I leave now?”
“Wait until they take off.” She glanced at the driver. He was young, nice-looking, new at his job and trying hard. “Once, last year, the plane was taxiing down the runway when something went wrong with the engine and the flight had to be postponed. Mr. Parish doesn’t like to dawdle at airports when he can go work at his office for a few hours. So, never leave until the plane disappears into the distance.”
James nodded, looking solemn.
She smiled at him, feeling for the young man. Their employer could be intimidating. Touching James’s hand in a friendly gesture, she added, “If you have questions, ask me.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she was sorry. Ask me? How could you have said such a thing, dummy? she admonished inwardly. Remember, you’re quitting!
The chauffeur’s frown evaporated and he looked almost at ease. She supposed her tiny fib was worth it if she