Valentine Bride by Christine Rimmer

Author:Christine Rimmer [Rimmer, Christine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: General, Fiction, Romance, Contemporary, Housekeepers, Brides, Texas, Bachelors, Spouses
ISBN: 9780373655052
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2010-02-01T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

C aleb watched her face turn sickly gray and feared she was going to chuck her cookies right there in the bed.

“I must dress,” she said frantically, shoving back the covers, jumping to her feet.

He went to her, took her by her shoulders. “Wait.”

“Caleb. Please. I must—”

“Stop. Listen.”

“Caleb—”

“You want to convince her we’re for real, right? What better way to do that than if I’m half-dressed and you’re looking all soft and satisfied in your nightgown?”

Even freaked, she caught on quick. “I’ll put on a robe and comb my hair.” She started to turn.

He held her there. “Don’t.”

She blinked. “Excuse me.”

“Your hair. Let her see it wild like that. Let her know that you just got out of bed. Our bed.”

She blinked. And then she nodded. “Yes. All right. I’ll get the robe….”

He let her go. She vanished into the dressing room, returning a moment later wearing a beige terry-cloth robe over the sexy pink nightgown. She belted the robe. It covered pretty much everything but a small V of her sweet, scarred chest.

Still, with her very kissed-looking mouth, the flush on her cheeks, and her hair loose and wild, anyone with half a brain would know exactly what she had been doing—with him, a fact that he was going to be more than pleased to make perfectly clear. She looked sexy as hell, and he couldn’t wait to get rid of the lady from USCIS and take her back to bed.

“Is okay?” she asked, nervously.

“It’s perfect.” He took her hand. “Let’s go.”

The woman from USCIS—who had given him her card and introduced herself as Tracy Lee—was sitting on the couch where he’d left her. Her expression when she spotted Irina reminded him of those old MasterCard commercials: “Marriage license: fifty-five dollars. Wedding dress: four thousand dollars. The look on the Immigration lady’s face when she realizes you really are married? Priceless.”

“Hello.” The woman rose and held out her hand. “Irina, I’m Tracy. Tracy Lee.”

Irina took the woman’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Tracy.” She sounded like royalty, so proud and gracious—and not in the least intimidated. It was a damn good act, considering that a minute or two before, back in the bedroom, she’d been openly terrified. “You are up early.”

“Yes. I thought I would drop by, and see…how you’re doing.”

“I am doing well, thank you. Very well—and happy to be safe here in America with my husband.” Irina sent him a warm glance. “A good man is so hard to find.”

They both turned and looked at him. Bare-chested in his oldest pair of sweats, he tried to look modest and unassuming—and good as well.

“Uh, yes,” Tracy agreed. She seemed slightly at a loss. He got the feeling that she’d shown up at their door expecting something completely different than what she was getting.

“Please.” Irina gestured at the couch. Tracy sat back down again. “Would you like coffee? It will only take a few minutes to prepare.”

Tracy cleared her throat. “No. Really. That won’t be necessary.”

Irina sat down, too.

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