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His Pretend Wife
Lisette Belisle
A SHAM MARRIAGE…When a near-fatal accident landed loner Jack Slade in the hospital, Abby had only claimed to be his wife to keep her promise to him. Besides, Jack needed her, and she was determined to stay until he was healed. But would her heart recover when it was time to leave?THAT WAS ALL TOO REALJack knew better than to get involved with elegant Miss Abigail Pierce. For their marriage was only a pretense, wasn't it? The kisses they shared didn't mean anything; the fact that his icy heart was beginning to thaw didn't matter. Except that he wished Abby would stop being his temporary wife…and become his permanent soul mate.



“I think you’re terrified of letting me into your life.”
Jack’s mouth tightened. “In case you haven’t noticed, you are in my life. I didn’t have much choice in the matter, you barged right in and took over.”
“And you hate that,” Abby replied.
“Maybe I resented it at first.”
“And now?”
“This argument is going nowhere.” He cut her off. “Your mother wanted to know what my intentions are toward you.”
“And what did you tell her?” Abby’s smooth brow furrowed.
“I told her we were just friends.” Jack took a deep breath and released it slowly. “I’m not sure she believed me.”
Jack was no longer sure he believed it himself, either.
Dear Reader,
Your best bet for coping with April showers is to run—not walk—to your favorite retail outlet and check out this month’s lineup. We’d like to highlight popular author Laurie Paige and her new miniseries SEVEN DEVILS. Laurie writes, “On my way to a writers’ conference in Denver, I spotted the Seven Devils Mountains. This had to be checked out! Sure enough, the rugged, fascinating land proved to be ideal for a bunch of orphans who’d been demanding that their stories be told.” You won’t want to miss Showdown!, the second book in the series, which is about a barmaid and a sheriff destined for love!
Gina Wilkins dazzles us with Conflict of Interest, the second book in THE MCCLOUDS OF MISSISSIPPI series, which deals with the combustible chemistry between a beautiful literary agent and her ruggedly handsome and reclusive author. Can they have some fun without love taking over the relationship? Don’t miss Marilyn Pappano’s The Trouble with Josh, which features a breast cancer survivor who decides to take life by storm and make the most of everything—but she never counts on sexy cowboy Josh Rawlins coming into the mix.
In Peggy Webb’s The Mona Lucy, a meddling but well-meaning mother attempts to play Cupid to her son and a beautiful artist who is painting her portrait. Karen Rose Smith brings us Expecting the CEO’s Baby, an adorable tale about a mix-up at the fertility clinic and a marriage of convenience between two strangers. And in Lisette Belisle’s His Pretend Wife, an accident throws an ex-con and an ex-debutante together, making them discover that rather than enemies, they just might be soul mates!
As you can see, we have a variety of stories for our readers, which explore the essentials—life, love and family. Stay tuned next month for six more top picks from Special Edition!
Sincerely,
Karen Taylor Richman
Senior Editor

His Pretend Wife
Lisette Belisle


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
With special thanks to my editor Stephanie Maurer and my friends at SRWA who share the dream.

LISETTE BELISLE
believes in putting everything into whatever she does, whether it’s a nursing career, motherhood or writing. While balancing a sense of practicality with a streak of adventure, she applies that dedication in creating stories of people overcoming the odds. Her message is clear—believe in yourself, and believe in love. She is the founder and past president of the Saratoga chapter of Romance Writers of America. Canadian-born, she grew up in New Hampshire and currently lives in upstate New York with her engineer husband, Frank.
She’d love to hear from her readers. She can be reached at P.O. Box 1166, Ballston Lake, NY 12019.



Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Epilogue

Chapter One
No one would miss him.
Jack Slade had never felt so alone. He stared up at a small patch of deep-blue sky surrounded by snow-capped pine trees. The sky felt closer. He was climbing to meet it, but something weighed him down.
He wasn’t ready to go yet.
How odd to discover he wanted to live, just as he was about to die. He started to laugh, but wound up choking. God, it hurt to breathe. That had him worried. He’d probably cracked a couple of ribs, but that didn’t explain the knife-like pain in his chest. Exposed to the bitter cold, he wondered how long he could survive.
Hours?
Would he see another dawn?
The ache in his left leg was gone; at least that part of his body felt blessedly numb.
Deep in the northern Maine pine woods, Jack was miles from anywhere. Earlier, he’d cut down a section of hardwood. When the rest of the logging crew left, he’d stayed on, hoping to get out one more load before quitting for the day. He’d almost finished when a doe crossed his path.
Startled, he’d swerved to avoid it. For one long sickening moment, the log skidder had started to tip. Jack tried to right it, but the track was uneven, covered in a thin layer of ice. The huge mechanical beast went into a slow roll, finally landing on its side and pinning him underneath.
Luckily a foot of packed snow had cushioned his fall, but there were rocks buried beneath. He’d struck his head and had been knocked out for a while. Now he lay trapped.
Ironically, he’d survived street gangs, a rough-and-tumble youth and even a spell in prison—only to wind up in a primitive forest in Maine. He’d read somewhere that logging, filled with physical hardships and risks, rated third from the bottom when it came to optimum occupations.
Maybe he should have aimed higher….

Abby Pierce lingered in her office at the Pierce Sawmill. Her assistant had gone home. The old post-and-beam building was eerily silent. No screaming saws, no grinding trucks loading and unloading outside in the lumberyard. No rumbling masculine voices—one voice in particular, calling her “Miss Abigail,” its owner taunting her with his sinfully blue eyes and a hard enigmatic smile, undoubtedly intended to put her in her place—wherever that was.
Abby glanced at the clock on the wall. Jack Slade was late, probably working—or stopped off at the diner flirting with a pretty waitress. For some reason, women were drawn to his dangerous edge.
But not Abby.
With an impatient sigh, she closed the payroll files. Jack hadn’t come in to pick up his paycheck, and she was tired of waiting for him.
It was New Year’s Eve—a time for shedding the past and looking to the future with new resolve. Lately, Abby’s life seemed caught in a holding pattern. She had a date with Seth Powers that evening. She should go home and change into the midnight-blue dress she’d purchased for the occasion, but something held her here. She couldn’t leave.
With a frown of irritation, Abby admitted the reason behind her unease—Jack Slade hadn’t checked in yet. Why should she care? Why indeed?
Abby rose hastily, dismissing the notion that Jack, with his dark good looks and devil-may-care attitude, could mean anything more to her than a thorn in her side. Like bad news, he’d arrived out of the blue, claiming her brother owed him a favor. Drew had given him a job, and she’d rued the day ever since. Was it only two months ago?
It seemed longer.
Nothing in Abby’s sheltered life could have prepared her for a man like Jack Slade. He was everything nice girls like her had been taught to avoid.
Abby stared out the window overlooking the lumberyard and watched the daylight fade to dusk. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t ignore the parking space where Jack’s logging truck should be. His motorcycle took up the space.
Running her hands up and down her arms, she felt chilled and weary. And worried. Jack could be hurt, or lost in the woods. It happened to even the most experienced loggers, and Jack hadn’t been around that long. Nevertheless, he wouldn’t thank her for sending out a search party simply because he was a couple of hours late.
Abby glanced up at the sky. Night was falling, and with it, the temperature. That settled it.
Taking a deep breath, she walked into her brother’s office. “Have you got a minute?”
Drew looked up from the pile of paperwork spread out on his desk. “I thought you’d left by now. What’s up?”
“It’s Jack. All the other men have checked in, but there’s no sign of him.”
Drew leaned back in his chair. “He’s probably just getting in a last load for the day. I wouldn’t worry about Jack, he can take care of himself.”
Abby had heard that before, it was little comfort to her now. “But it will be dark soon.” Afraid to reveal her personal interest, she admitted, “I know it doesn’t make any sense. I just have this bad feeling.”
He raised an eyebrow. “About Jack?”
She ignored the amusement in his voice. Naturally, Drew was aware of their mutual dislike. Jack was Drew’s friend—not hers. Never hers. From the first moment they’d met, it had been hate at first sight. Abby couldn’t hide her disapproval and Jack had responded with male derision. To this day, their working relationship remained awkward.
“Please,” she said, putting her reservations aside, “can you just check on him? Or send someone up there?”
“All right.” Drew reached for the topical map—an aerial view of the section of forest where the logging site was located. “He should be just about here.” He circled a dot on the side of a mountain. “I’ll go have a look around.”
Abby looked at the map, aware of how easy it would be to get lost. How long could a man survive out there?
“I’ll come with you,” she said on impulse, unwilling to be left behind where she would worry. About Jack. The knowledge curled around her heart and squeezed.

Half an hour later, they found the logging site. Jack’s truck stood parked by the side of the road. There was no sign of Jack. Abby felt a shiver of dread.
The mountain stood before them; a rough logging track cut a path upwards. Huge black rocks penetrated the pure white snowdrifts. Drew shouted Jack’s name into the silence. No answer. Only the wind whispering through the stand of towering pine trees. By now, a pale white winter moon rode high, frozen in black space.
Drew handed Abby a flashlight. “Here, you’ll need this. Stay close. I don’t want you getting lost.”
Abby nodded. She didn’t need to be reminded.
The climb was rough going, icy in spots. The surrounding forest was thick. Some winter branches were bare. In the moonlight, the shadows lengthened, darting in and out. The woods seemed to close in around Abby, bearing her down as the steep climb stole her breath.
She felt a stitch in her side. Ignoring the dull pain, she kept climbing. Then she saw the fallen skidder, the bright yellow flash of metallic paint against the frozen white landscape.
“Drew, look over there, to the left.”
Drew shouted back, “Any sign of Jack?”
Abby shook her head. “No, it’s too dark.”
“Don’t worry. If he’s here, we’ll find him.”
“He might have wandered off,” she said. For all his outer toughness, Jack was an inexperienced woodsman.
Abby walked closer to the fallen skidder. Under the twisted metal, a form took shape, broad shoulders in a buffalo plaid wool jacket.
“Jack,” she whispered, struck by the ominous silence all around her. Her heart stopped. Then, started again in a new erratic rhythm.
Abby rushed up the incline. She slipped once, but struggled to her feet and continued on. With Drew behind her, she was the first one to reach Jack. Removing one glove, she sank down on her knees beside him, and searched for a pulse in his throat. She held her breath—until she felt a slow but steady throb beating under her fingertips.
Jack was so still. Wedged between the ground and a heavy metal strip, only his head and shoulders were exposed. His hair gleamed black against the snow. His face was pale, his lips blue. A bloody, inch-long gash stood out against his wide brow. His thick eyelashes fanned out over high cheekbones.
He was frowning.
Typical.
Abby had rarely seen him smile.
“He’s alive?” Drew asked, the words clipped and taut.
“Yes,” she murmured, finding her voice.
Drew released a harsh breath. “Looks like he’s been here for a while. Good thing the snow provided some insulation to keep him from freezing.”
Abby’s eyes filmed with tears of relief. “Thank God.”
Jack Slade was alive, he was going to be all right. She refused to consider anything else.
“Don’t move him. We don’t know how badly he’s hurt.” Drew stood up, his cell phone in hand. “But by the look of things, he’ll need an airlift to the nearest medical center. I’ll give Seth a call, so he can get right on it.”
Abby nodded. In addition to being the local sheriff, Seth Powers was a good man to have around in any emergency.
While Drew called for help, Abby turned her attention back to Jack. She brushed his hair away from his brow, surprised at the soft silky texture. Everything about Jack Slade seemed so hard.
Half-conscious, Jack felt a woman’s soft, soothing touch. With only distant youthful memories of his grandmother, he wondered if he’d died and gone to heaven. He opened his eyes and encountered hazel eyes rimmed in gold. He knew the woman leaning over him.
One thing for certain—he wasn’t in heaven! Not with Abigail Pierce on hand to torment him.
“Abigail.” He tried to tell her to go away and leave him alone. But the words remained locked in his throat. Why did she have to plague him now?
She leaned closer—her breath warm against his face. “Please, lie still. You’re safe.”
“Safe?” he said in confusion. How could that be when he was lying battered and half-frozen with his leg crushed and a black sky falling on him? Maybe this was all a nightmare, and he would wake up any minute….
“Drew’s here with me, he’s calling for help. They should be on the way.” Her face went all soft. Jack stared, mesmerized, as she continued. “A few more hours and you would have frozen. Where does it hurt?”
Trying to lift his head, he sank back and shook off a wave of dizziness. He focused on her voice. “Everything’s numb, but I think my arm’s broken.” He swallowed hard. “My left leg’s bad. I know it.”
“Just hang on. Help is on the way.”
Jack shook his head. There was no one to turn to—except Abigail Pierce. And she wasn’t even a friend. The story of Jack’s life. He’d been betrayed one too many times to trust easily, and Abigail was no exception to his rule. However, faced with no alternative, he had to make do with her.
“My leg’s pinned under the metal bar. I can’t move it, I can’t feel it anymore.” His eyes trapped hers. “It’s probably pretty mangled.” His voice dropped a notch as he struggled for words. “Don’t let them take it off.”
“Jack, no—” Abby paled, her eyes wide and shocked. “You can’t know if it’s that bad.”
“I know,” he said, grimly reminded of that terrifying moment. He’d felt the metal tear through flesh and bone—a white-hot pain. “Promise?”
Silently, she nodded.
He shivered. “It’s so damned cold.”
To Jack’s surprise, Abby removed her long wool coat, then draped it across his shoulders.
“What about you?” he asked, wary of being on the receiving end of her kindness. There was always a price.
“This is fine. I’m wearing a thick sweater.” She placed her gloved hand on top of his head, as if to keep the heat in his body.
Like a slow tide, he felt some of her warmth seep into him. Afraid to rely on that one small charitable act, he closed his eyes, shutting her out.
“Jack!” Aware of the added risk of hypothermia, Abby panicked. “You can’t go to sleep. Drew’s organizing a crew to come and lift this thing.” She kept talking, saying anything that came to mind to keep him awake. “Seth put in a call to get an emergency evacuation helicopter to fly up here and airlift you to a hospital.”
“Where?” he murmured after a long moment.
“A downstate facility where they have experience in dealing with injuries like yours.” When he said nothing, she leaned closer. “Jack, do you have family, anyone I can call?”
He opened his eyes, shocking her with a vivid blue stare. She could see intense pain in the depths. He looked so vulnerable. “There’s no one.”
“There must be someone,” she said desperately.
His eyes flickered over her face. “There was just Gran and me. And she’s gone.”
“I’m sorry.”
His eyes narrowed. “Why?”
She sighed. “I don’t know. I just am.” Everyone should have someone. She didn’t voice the words.

Help finally arrived—the sheriff and some loggers and a local ambulance manned by trained volunteers. Abby stepped aside to give them room. After a quick evaluation, they placed an oxygen mask over Jack’s face.
Abby felt helpless while a crew of men worked to free Jack. Through it all, the sheriff clipped out instructions, creating order out of chaos. Strong and reliable, Seth was in his element in any minor or major emergency. Abby knew she’d ceased to exist for him in that moment.
It was nothing new.
Duty always came first with Seth—a noble trait, but Abby wasn’t sure she could settle for his steady, stable but unexciting courtship. Would their marriage be like that? Seth charging off—a knight in shining armor to enforce the law and rescue anyone who needed him—while she waited for him to remember she existed? Was it selfish to want more attention, more devotion? More passion?
At length, the dim overhead clatter of the rescue helicopter grew closer until the roar was upon them. A blinding white light beamed down, piercing the night and illuminating the accident scene.
Abby glanced up, shielding her eyes with her hand.
The helicopter dipped low, hovering. An amplified voice called down, “We’re going to land in a field nearby. That’s as close as we can get. Hang on. We’ll be right there.”
It seemed to take forever but was actually less than fifteen minutes before the medical rescue team reached Jack.
Mindless of the cold, Abby helped them wrap Jack in warm blankets. When a medic cut at the denim fabric encasing his leg, she caught a brief glimpse of the injury to his upper thigh. Swallowing hard as the bile rose in her throat, she averted her gaze from the sight of torn flesh and bone. Nevertheless, even with her inexperienced eye, Abby had seen enough. Jack hadn’t exaggerated the damage to his leg. He had every reason to worry about losing it.
Horrified by the realization, Abby didn’t notice her brother had come to stand by her side until Drew handed her the coat she’d loaned Jack earlier.
“You look frozen,” Drew said.
Dressed in a thick wool sweater and slacks, Abby didn’t feel the cold. Nevertheless, she slipped her arms into the sleeves of her gray coat. The quilted silk lining felt warm from Jack’s body heat.
“Thanks,” she whispered, her lips trembling.
Drew gazed at her with concern as he asked, “You okay?” Sometimes she felt he understood her better than she did herself.
Abby laughed shakily, wondering if she was losing her mind. “Jack’s the one with the problem.”
He had looked so helpless—at the mercy of fate. From what she knew of Jack’s troubled past, life had dealt him more than one blow. Would he survive this latest one?
Drew tried to bolster her. “He’s in rough shape, but it could be worse. He may not realize it right now, but he owes you his life.”
“I didn’t do anything.” Abby refused to accept any responsibility for Jack’s life.
That might open up a set of emotions she’d tried to deny since the first day she met him. From that day on, she’d been bombarded by feelings that threatened to disrupt her ordinary, orderly life. But wasn’t change the reason she’d moved back to Henderson? Feeling restless and generally dissatisfied with her life, she’d hoped Seth was the answer.
Seth was safe.
Jack was the unknown.
“You sent out the alarm,” Drew pointed out, a question in his eyes when her silence lengthened. “No one else knew Jack was missing.”
She had known. In some secret part of her, Abby was aware of Jack’s every move. She knew when he arrived at work and when he left—to the minute. She dreaded and craved each new encounter. God! How had she let herself get drawn in by his brooding good looks and the masculine taunt in his bitter blue eyes? Today, she’d glimpsed a flash of vulnerability in Jack Slade—something she’d never expected to see beneath the tough exterior.
Abby wasn’t sure how much time had elapsed before a medic gave the order, “Okay, let’s get him out of here.”
A new urgency gripped her.
The rescue squad had set up flares to light the way back down; the mountain looked on fire. The paramedics bundled Jack onto a stretcher. Since the helicopter had landed in the nearby field, a couple of men had to carry him down the steep mountain path, a slow tedious process.
Following in their wake, Abby felt Jack getting further away from her, breaking that small but very real connection she’d felt earlier when they were alone and he’d asked directly for her help. Then the others had arrived.
He didn’t need her.
Falling back, she breathed easier. Someone else would look after Jack Slade. Not Abby. He was terribly hurt, perhaps critically, but there was nothing she could do for him. Thank goodness, there were professionals on hand who knew how to deal with his life-threatening trauma.
Despite all the rationalizing, she wanted to cry when the men loaded the stretcher bearing Jack onto the helicopter feet first. They’d wrapped him in a blanket and splinted his left arm. No one had dared touch his left leg, except to gently wrap the brutally torn flesh in sterile gauze.
As if pulled by an invisible thread, Abby took a step. “Someone should go with him,” she said to one of the medics climbing on board.
The man glanced back at her. “There’s room for one more, but only the immediate family is allowed.”
“Please, wait.” Abby swallowed hard.
She had no personal connection to Jack. They weren’t even friends, and she preferred it that way. Nevertheless, she’d made a promise—one she found impossible to break or ignore. He’d asked her to save his leg, and she’d agreed.
He was counting on her.
How could she ignore that?
Faced with that grave responsibility, a small lie hovered on her lips. She couldn’t let Jack go alone. He was unconscious. Who would look after him?
Though it was the last thing Abby wanted to do, some deep instinct compelled her to claim an attachment to Jack Slade with the words, “I’m his wife.”

Chapter Two
His wife.
Abby pursed her lips, regretting the impulse the moment the words spilled from her mouth. However, once spoken, she couldn’t take the false statement back. With a few rash ill-considered words uttered in desperation, she’d claimed Jack Slade. How could she? In any case, she had little time to reconsider or come up with an alternative plan.
Preparing for liftoff, the pilot turned on the motor. The engine’s roar drowned out all thought. The helicopter blades spun, circling in a wide arc, churning up a thick white cloud of snow. Abby felt swallowed up in it. A few ice crystals struck her face.
She’d blocked out her brother’s presence.
Drew tried to stop her. He’d obviously heard her claim that she was Jack’s wife. He grabbed her arm, raising his voice above the motor. “Abby, this is insane. What are you doing? You can’t just pretend you’re married to Jack.”
“He’s unconscious.” Abby pulled free and took another step closer to the waiting helicopter. “He can’t go alone, not in his condition. How will he cope when he gets to the hospital? Someone has to go with him.”
“But not you. Jack means nothing to you.”
Abby squared her shoulders. “That’s not the point. He needs someone. There is no one else.”
Drew’s mouth tightened with disapproval. He searched her eyes for a long moment before releasing her. “All right, but God help you when Seth finds out.”
She shook her head. More than anything in the world, Abby wanted to feel truly connected to some place. Someone. Perhaps that someone was Seth Powers. And yet, she found herself saying, “Seth doesn’t own me.”
Drew said dryly, “Try telling him that.”
With a shiver of acknowledgment, Abby turned away from the warning in Drew’s eyes. When the paramedic reached down to give her a hand, she climbed on board the helicopter then quickly found a seat.
The sharp scent of antiseptic stung her eyes. A paramedic inserted an intravenous into the back of Jack’s hand, while asking, “How was he when you found him?”
“He said he was cold.”
“Did he recognize you?”
“Yes, he did.”
The man nodded, he was middle-aged with a kind face and thick eyebrows that shadowed his eyes. “That’s a good sign.”
“Jack will be okay?” She needed some reassurance, something to hang on to.
“We’re doing all we can. The thing is to get him to a hospital where the doctors can deal with his injuries. The nearest medical center is a good distance. So, hang on.”
“Yes, of course.” Fastening her seat belt, Abby took a deep breath to steady her nerves.
With the weight of her promise heavy on her conscience, she glanced at Jack. He lay still as death, and she prayed that he would live, that he would be whole.
She reached for his hand. “Hang on, Jack.”
Jack would never have asked for her help if he weren’t desperate. She’d seen it in his eyes.
From the moment they’d met, he’d seemed unapproachable, his hard eyes challenging her and a cynical edge creeping into his smile when he greeted her with a few terse words. He’d asked to see Drew. Abby hadn’t been able to see past his black leather jacket and motorcycle, but her brother had greeted Jack like an old friend. They’d met in prison—which did little to improve Abby’s opinion.
At the time, Jack had seemed so alien to all that was familiar. Since then, she’d never been able to shake that feeling of impending chaos. He threatened her secure world, adding to her concerns for her brother who was trying to rebuild his life after serving time in prison for violating federal safety code regulations.
Abby frowned, recalling that tumultuous time.
At the trial, Drew had pleaded innocent to the charge. However, he’d admitted to repairing a faulty gas tank valve instead of replacing it with a new one. That one error in judgment had caused an explosion at the family-operated migrant campground. Thankfully, no lives were lost, but the list of serious injuries and property damage was long. A jury had found Drew guilty, and the judge had thrown the book at him. Sentenced to five years in prison, Drew’s punishment hadn’t ended there. Everyone had turned their backs on him, his family had closed down their extensive farming and logging interests and left Henderson. Only Abby had remained loyal.
Three months ago, she’d come back to Henderson when Drew was released. Determined to atone for his mistakes, he’d reopened the sawmill and Abby had joined him. She’d invested both her time and money in the effort. Thus, she hadn’t been pleased when Jack Slade—an ex-con—turned up at the sawmill looking for a job. He was part of Drew’s past, a threat to the future.
Now, Abby leaned her head back with a sigh, admitting that she resented Jack’s presence for more personal reasons.
According to Drew, Jack Slade was an innocent man, wrongly imprisoned for a crime he didn’t commit. Perhaps that part was true—but when Jack looked at Abby, there was nothing innocent about him.
For the first time in her life, she’d seen naked hunger in a man’s eyes. When she’d shrunk from Jack, his expression had quickly turned to derision. She’d been running away from him ever since.
Not that Jack noticed, she thought with a sad smile. He was obviously a loner.
Abby understood isolation.
She was the product of a small backwoods town and an exclusive boarding-school education. Separated from everyone and everything she loved best, she’d spent her childhood not knowing where she belonged. She’d been searching ever since.
Maybe Jack was searching too.
How odd to think they might have something in common—anything at all. Unwilling to grasp the implication, Abby glanced out the window.
Buffeted by a strong north wind, the helicopter lifted off the ground. The roar of the motor drowned out her thoughts. Flying into the clouds, she looked down at the ground below where Seth had joined her brother. Both men grew smaller and smaller as the helicopter gained altitude.

The downstate medical center was miles away; the trip seemed to take forever. In reality, it was less than two hours. Gradually, the city lights came closer until they were sweeping down onto the hospital roof, a flat rectangle that seemed too small to land on. Abby held her breath until the helicopter touched down with a jolt. It had reached its destination, but Abby’s journey was just beginning. Once the copter was anchored securely, she climbed down. She wrapped her coat around her, thankful for its warmth against the bitter cold and recalling how she’d shared it with Jack. Was he warm now?
An experienced hospital triage team took over.
After they exchanged a few hurried words with the rescue crew, a sense of urgency filled their faces. They sped Jack away. With very little experience of trauma, illness or hospitals, Abby struggled to keep up as Jack was whisked inside the building then down a labyrinth of corridors to an elevator. Doors opened, people rushed down hallways.
In the emergency unit, a nurse took over. “What’s his condition?”
While someone responded, the paramedic who had assisted Abby on the helicopter patted her shoulder. “He’ll make it. I have to go. Good luck.”
Abby caught her breath. She wanted to cling to him, he was the only familiar face among so many strangers. “Thank you,” she whispered. She didn’t even know his name, but he’d been kind.
When Jack disappeared through another set of swinging doors, the nurse barred her way. “I’m sorry. You’ll have to wait until the doctor has examined him. Admissions will want to speak to you. Someone will let you know if there’s any change in the patient’s condition.”
“And please try not to worry,” she added as an afterthought.
Abby wondered how many times the emergency-room nurse had to repeat those words in the course of a routine twenty-four hours. In any case, they did little to reassure Abby.
Feeling cut off, she retraced her steps and found the waiting room. A few tired decorations stood as a reminder that it was only six days after Christmas. She’d spent the holiday with Drew and his wife, Olivia. Abby wondered how Jack had spent the day.
The admissions desk was partitioned behind a wall with only a small window connecting it to the outside world.
Abby tapped on the glass to get someone’s attention. “I’d like some information,” she said when a nurse turned up.
The window slid open a few inches. “Weren’t you with the patient they just flew in from Henderson?”
Abby gripped the edge of the counter. “How is he?”
To Abby’s mounting frustration, the nurse answered indirectly. “We’re doing all we can.” She handed over a brown envelope. “Your husband’s valuables are in here. You can take them home with you.”
Feeling like a fraud, Abby took the thick envelope, then slipped it unopened into her coat pocket. “Can I see him?”
“One of the doctors will speak to you directly. In the meantime, I need some information.”
Abby volunteered Jack’s name, age, address, insurance information. She knew all those from his employment records at the sawmill. Allergies? None—that she knew of. Another line remained—next of kin.
Jack didn’t have any family to notify. Struck by the absolute aloneness of this man, Abby stared at the blank space, then took a deep breath. Gripping the pen, her hand shook as she penned in the name Abby Slade.
The black letters looked stark, a little thin and wobbly, nevertheless, the indelible ink couldn’t be erased. Releasing her breath, Abby dropped the pen on the counter.
To her relief, the receptionist gave the signature only a cursory glance. “We’ll let you know if there’s any change.”
The glass partition slid shut.
Completely cut off, Abby struggled with the urge to call the woman back and confess the deception. But then, she remembered. Jack. She’d promised to look after him. As the lies mounted, that was the only truth that mattered.
Abby bit her lip, buried her guilt and turned away. The thought of legal repercussions did cross her mind briefly; however, she dismissed the concern, refusing to let second thoughts deter her from helping Jack. Pretending to be his wife was a bit extreme by any standards, but as his self-appointed representative, she could see no other way to guarantee that he received the right treatment.
The waiting room was crowded.
A child was crying plaintively.
An elderly couple clung to each other.
Some teenagers talked too loudly in the hushed room.
Avoiding them, Abby bought a cup of coffee from a machine. Fortunately, she carried her wallet in her pocket. She found an empty chair. When she sipped the coffee, she spilled a few drops on her coat. Glancing down, she realized her hand was still shaking. She carefully set the cup down on a table.
Untouched, the coffee grew cold.
What was taking so long?
To distract herself, Abby watched a woman crocheting a pale-yellow wool scarf. Repeatedly, the ball of yarn rolled off the woman’s lap and onto the floor. Abby retrieved it twice before realizing the woman was apparently caught up in some inner turmoil and didn’t care. Abby wished she knew how to offer comfort. But the words remained locked inside. When the ball of yarn fell a third time, Abby looked away.
“Mrs. Slade?” The doctor had to repeat it twice.
Abby jumped. He was speaking to her. “Yes?”
He was frowning—not a good sign. “You came in with Jack Slade?” He looked down at some notes. “It says here you’re his wife?”
Abby couldn’t find the words to deny the connection to Jack. She nodded. And so, the web of lies grew.
And grew.
The doctor pinned her with a look that had her bracing her spine for bad news. “I don’t need to tell you he’s in pretty rough shape.” Not mincing his words, the doctor listed Jack’s injuries—a minor concussion, a broken arm, a couple of cracked ribs and a punctured lung, some possible internal injuries and spinal swelling. “We won’t know the extent until we take X-rays and run more tests.”
With each added word, Abby’s head spun. This was much worse than she’d feared. Poor Jack. Gradually, she became aware of what the doctor wasn’t telling her. “But what about the injury to Jack’s leg?”
The doctor wouldn’t meet her eyes. “We have to get him stabilized first. Then we’ll see.”
Abby took a fortifying breath. “Please, just tell me.”
“I’ll be frank. We’ll do what we can, but I can’t perform miracles. We may have to amputate.”
Abby gasped. “But you can’t do that!”
He argued, “We may not have a choice.”
Choices.
Abby tried to find words to persuade him. “But I know Jack. He would never give you permission.”
“He’s unconscious. In cases like this, we’ll need your permission as his next of kin.”
She clenched her hands and slid them into her coat pockets. “I won’t sign anything. I want Jack to have the best surgeon available. I don’t care what it costs.”
She could afford to pay the medical bills. More than likely, Jack would resent being an object of her charity. Well, he could just go ahead and hate her. At least, he would be alive and kicking—hopefully, with both legs.
The doctor offered no encouragement. “Flying someone up from Boston might take more time than we’ve got.”
“I’ll accept full responsibility.”
He frowned. “If you’re determined to do this, I won’t try to talk you out of it. I suppose you want to see him. I’m warning you, he’s not a pretty sight. The next hours are critical. If he’s going to make it, he’s going to need you to stand by him with every ounce of courage you can muster.”
Courage.
Abby wasn’t sure she qualified in that department. She’d never been tested, never had to fight for anything she wanted. Or anyone. Of course, the doctor was assuming she was married to Jack, which meant she must be in love with him. Thank goodness she wasn’t in love with the man! A woman would have to be out of her mind to love Jack Slade, or very reckless. And Abby was neither.
Apparently, taking her silence as consent, the doctor ushered Abby into the treatment room. There, she was shocked to find a hospital chaplain giving Jack the last rites.
Thus, while a medical team worked over Jack’s damaged body, the chaplain prayed for his soul. And Abby prayed for a miracle.
The lights glared bright and white; the room was green and sterile. A nurse said sympathetically, “I’m sure your husband can feel your presence. He’s semi-conscious, but if you speak to him, he might hear you.”
Feeling awkward, Abby leaned closer. “Jack, it’s me—Abby.” When she repeated the words, he turned his head, his eyelids fluttered. His face was ashen, the gash on his forehead stood out in stark relief. “You’re going to get well,” she whispered, touching her lips to his, as if to breathe more life into him. “Don’t give up.”
When he made no response, she held his hand. It was hard and calloused. And warm. Despite his grave injuries, his spirit was strong. She clung to that thought, wanting to believe it was true. From what she knew about Jack, he was no quitter. But would he recover from this latest blow? Even if he survived his injuries, the doctor didn’t hold out much hope when it came to saving Jack’s leg.

Jack clung to something.
Hope?
He wasn’t sure where he was. He didn’t remember many details of the accident. There were brief flashes of a helicopter ride; everything else was a blur. The pain was intense. He drifted in and out of consciousness, unaware of what was real and what was not, haunted by the fear that his leg had vanished into thin air. He couldn’t walk, couldn’t run. Voices penetrated the thick fog.
He opened his eyes, surprised to see his bedside surrounded by faceless shapes. Someone was praying over him. How many times did he have to repent? In truth, he was only guilty of making wrong choices and trusting the wrong people. Was he bitter? Yes. Nevertheless, the prayers soothed his soul and made him wish he had a life to live over.
Given a chance, he’d do so many things differently.
His grandmother had done her best to teach him right from wrong. She’d even insisted he serve time as an altar boy. Somehow, according to Gran, that was supposed to keep him out of trouble. It worked—but only after he’d beaten up the bully on the block who teased him for wearing a dress—standard altar-boy issue. After he won the boy’s respect, the other kids had left him alone, which suited Jack. He didn’t need friends, he didn’t need anyone.
Anyone who believed otherwise was a fool.
So much for the past. He didn’t have much of a future. He frowned when someone took his hand. Someone feminine clasped him firmly, palm to palm. He tried to hold on, returning the pressure, and felt the flutter of a pulse racing against his thumb. His own heart jumped in his chest. Reality started to fade. The room and its occupants receded, everything turned gray. More prayers. Jack couldn’t make out the words. But he recognized one voice.
Abigail.
He struggled to grasp her presence. Had she been around earlier? He was hurt, possibly dying. Why couldn’t she leave him in peace?
Then, incredibly, he felt her lips against his—as soft as he’d imagined. In his dreams.
So, this was a dream. He welcomed her presence because everything around was cold and dark and empty. On the inside, he was burning up, a white-hot pain knifed through him with each breath.
“Please, Jack, don’t give up.” That voice pulled him back from the brink. Her soft words penetrated the cloud of pain, making it almost bearable. “Everything’s going to be all right.”
He wanted to believe her.
His hand clenched around something soft and feminine; he wanted to hold on and never let go.
Time lost its meaning.

Hours later, while the rest of the world prepared to celebrate the arrival of a brand-new year, Abby sat alone with Jack in the intensive care unit where he was recovering after surgery. The doctors had dealt with the worst of his injuries—all but his leg—and he was breathing better.
Abby was still recovering from the shock of what she’d done—she’d lied, more than once, claiming to be Jack’s wife. Amazingly, no one had questioned her. Now, she was alone—with Jack. She’d never felt more frightened in her life.
She should call someone back home. No doubt, her brother was waiting for news of Jack. Somehow Abby couldn’t deal with all the questions. Not yet. A day of reckoning would come soon enough. She wondered how much Jack would remember—if anything.
She’d used her fake status to insist the doctors delay surgery on Jack’s leg until the following day. A top surgeon was flying up from Boston. Jack still wasn’t out of danger. She desperately wanted him to get well. That was the only real part of this whole charade.
A new year was about to ring in. In the holiday spirit, a nurse brought Abby some pastries and mock champagne—fizzy apple juice. “I know it’s difficult. But you’ll need your strength. You really should eat something.”
“Thank you.” Abby obeyed, unable to recall when she’d last eaten. All that was normal seemed unreal.
Jack’s accident had wiped away everyday considerations. How odd to realize that life could change and rearrange itself in a heartbeat. From the moment Abby had realized Jack was missing, nothing had been the same.
The nurse injected some medication into Jack’s intravenous and adjusted the drip. “If it’s any comfort, the whole staff is pulling for both of you.”
“That’s very kind of you. Please thank everyone.”
“Have you been married long?”
Unable to hide her growing discomfort, Abby blushed. “Not very long.”
“You must be very much in love with him.”
Abby wanted to shout a denial, but she couldn’t bring herself to burst the young woman’s romantic bubble. “How can you tell?”
“It shows.” The nurse smiled. “If you’re planning to spend the night, the chair’s comfortable. You’ll find an extra pillow and some blankets in the closet.” Before she left, she added, “Oh, I almost forgot—your brother called.”
That startled Abby. “What did you tell him?”
“That Jack’s current condition is stable.”
“Oh.”
Abby had no idea how she was going to explain her erratic behavior to her family. In addition to her parents, she had three brothers. Drew would understand. He wasn’t exactly known for his caution. In fact, his impulsiveness had gotten him into trouble a time or two. However, claiming a relationship to an unconscious man would be considered extreme even by Drew’s standards.
There was simply no explanation for her rash decision to embark on a rescue mission that included masquerading as Jack’s wife. After the nurse left, Abby sipped mock champagne from the paper cup, wondering if she was losing her mind.
The midnight hour came.
A flurry of hushed well-wishers out in the hallway announced its arrival. Only a few patients were well enough to join the staff in the subdued celebration.
How odd to start a new year in this place. With Jack Slade. Abby stared at his sleeping face. It wasn’t a soft face, his life experiences had left their mark. He was only twenty-seven but his youth had been spent in harsh places.
Now he had some new bruises, a cut over his left eye. Luckily, it wasn’t deep enough to need stitches and wouldn’t leave a scar to mar his ruggedly handsome features.
However, some scars remained on the inside, hidden from view, but they were there. Jack probably had a collection of them. Of course, he’d never share them with Abby. They were little more than strangers really. She wondered why that knowledge should hurt.
No doubt he would be furious when he learned she’d claimed to be his wife. It was only temporary. Abby silenced an irrational pang of regret. Then, out of some deep well of emotion buried deep within, she reached over and gently kissed him. There was no response.
In fairy tales, all it took was one chaste kiss to turn a frog into a prince. With a sad whimsical smile, Abby acknowledged that fanciful transformation wasn’t likely to happen in this case.
Nevertheless, she pressed her lips to his a second time and whispered, “Happy New Year, Jack.”

Chapter Three
Jack woke in a small, dark hospital room. There was a window, but the blinds were closed. He had no idea if it was night or day. He squinted into the dim reaches of the room crammed with medical equipment. A machine monitored vital signs in little beeps and blips. Other sounds were muffled. How long had he been unconscious?
Hours?
Days?
His mouth felt thick and fuzzy. When he tried to move, he discovered his left arm was in a cast. His right hand was hooked up to an intravenous tube, dripping colorless fluids into a vein. His ribs hurt, but at least it no longer felt as if each breath would be his last.
He tried to lift his head, then groaned. It felt as if an elephant was sitting on it! He remembered someone saying he had a mild concussion. It didn’t feel mild.
Okay, enough whining—he could deal with a headache, and a few additional bumps and bruises. He’d survived a lot worse. In fact, he was damn lucky to be alive. Then, he remembered.
His leg!
His gaze flew to the bottom of the bed. Yes, his left leg was there. Encased in a hip-to-toe white plaster cast, it was still attached at the hip. He’d only dreamed it was gone. At the sight of it, he released a harsh breath. They’d saved his leg.
So, Abby had kept her promise.
Imagine that.
Throughout the nightmarish experience, he’d felt her presence every step of the way. He should be grateful for her help—and he was—but that was it. He’d be a fool to care about Miss Abigail. There, he’d put her in her rightful place—far above him—a firm reminder that she was way out of his league.
That decided, he looked around the empty room.
So, where the hell was she now?
Jack turned expectantly at the sound of the door opening, but to his disappointment, it was only a nurse.
Her rubber-soled shoes squished on the tiled floor as she approached the bed. He read the name on her tag—she didn’t look like a Tammy. More like Attila the Hun.
“I see you’re finally awake.” She moved around the bed as she checked various gauges on the equipment. “Anesthesia affects some people that way.”
Jack got dizzy trying to follow her. Wishing she’d stand still, he ran his tongue over his lips, then tried to find his voice. “How long have I been here?”
“You were admitted three days ago.” While he digested that piece of information, she added, “Does anything hurt?”
Everything hurt, but that wasn’t the worst of it.
“I can’t feel my leg,” he said, rawly stating his deepest fear. He could plainly see it. He just couldn’t feel it!
Tammy gave him a long sympathetic look. “The tests show the spinal column is intact, but there’s some bruising and swelling.”
Okay, that explained it, he supposed. His spine had been crushed—he remembered someone mentioning that. “So, how long before I get some feeling back?”
While he waited for a straight answer, she busily fluffed up his pillow, tucked in a sheet. “These things take time.”
Things?
What things? They were talking about his leg. He couldn’t go through life without it.
She asked, “Is there anything else?”
Apparently, he wasn’t going to get any more information out of her. So, he settled for something more immediate. “I could use some water. My mouth feels as if I swallowed a bucket of sand.”
“I’ll get some ice chips. Your wife should be right back. She’ll be so pleased to see you’re awake.”
His wife?
That caught his undivided attention.
“My what?” Jack’s voice betrayed his amazement.
When, how and where—not to mention why—had he acquired a wife? He didn’t get another word out before the nurse stuck a plastic thermometer in his mouth.
“Abby’s a lovely girl.”
“Mmm,” Jack mouthed around the thermometer in agreement. He couldn’t argue as a mental image of Abigail Pierce invaded his thoughts. Tall and slender, she was calm and reserved, naturally elegant with her long dark hair and pale skin.
There was a polished refinement about her that screamed don’t touch me. It wasn’t packaged or faked. And every time Jack saw her, he wanted to mess up that perfection, shatter the image, take her hair down. And touch her.
As if on cue, Abigail arrived.
She stopped in the doorway, her eyes widening at the sight of him. Her hazel eyes were rimmed in gold and reflected every mood. “Jack!” She looked shocked.
For crying out loud, who had she expected to find?
Jack mumbled something around the thermometer.
“Good morning,” Abby said. It wasn’t exactly original, but he was tempted to smile because when he was trapped on that mountain, he’d wondered if he’d ever see the dawn of another day. But this was no time to get all sentimental.
He needed some answers from his wife.
His brow creased at the reminder.
Normally confident, Abby looked tense as she glanced from Jack to the nurse, then back again. “It’s good to see you awake. You look better.”
Finally, the nurse removed the thermometer from Jack’s mouth. He grinned—or tried to. “Liar.”
Abigail blushed, which intrigued him. For a brunette, she had very fair skin. Her hair was a rich deep shade of brown with highlights that gleamed red in the sun. She wore it held back with a silver clasp. Her clothes were tailored. Nothing fussy or overly feminine, but on her it looked good.
Before he got carried away with admiration, he could see pity in her eyes and refused to betray any sign of weakness. In any case, he had a lot of things to say to her.
Under the nurse’s watchful eye, Abby brushed a fleeting kiss against his mouth.
That shocked Jack into an automatic response. He kissed her back. There was no pressure, the light contact lasted a fraction of a second, but it left an indelible impression of sweetness he hadn’t expected. She looked startled when she pulled back.
Abigail Pierce always seemed so cool, almost frigid, with that reserved air. So, what the hell was going on? She’d kissed him. So what? Jack knew she wouldn’t be half as brave if he wasn’t all tied up—literally—with one arm in a cast, and another hooked up to an intravenous.
Obviously a romantic, Tammy said, “Your wife arranged to fly a specialist up from Boston in the middle of the night. And on New Year’s Eve to boot. She sure was determined.” The nurse spoke in obvious awe.
“I’ll bet.” Jack’s sarcasm earned him a withering look from Abigail. With the Pierce family connections, she could get anyone to do her bidding, which only served to point out their insurmountable differences.
Tammy smiled. “Well, I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone. Only short visits are allowed. You both could use some rest. Your wife hasn’t left your side in days.”
There it was again.
His wife.
And Abigail hadn’t denied it.
After Tammy left, the two lovebirds glared at each other. Jack supposed he should be grateful. But he wasn’t. He felt trapped. Once, wrongly accused, he’d gone to prison and served time for a crime he didn’t commit. He felt that way now.
The memory of that harsh time was in his voice when he said, “All right, Abigail, let’s get this over with. What’s going on here?”
She looked extremely uncomfortable. “I know this must seem confusing. Please don’t be angry.”
“Can you blame me!” he snapped, feeling as if he stood on a precipice. He put every ounce of skepticism into the words, “Clue me in. What’s the wifely act all about?”
“There is a logical explanation.”
“Then, let’s have it.”
She slipped her hands into her pockets. Despite the casual pose, Jack wasn’t fooled for a minute. She cleared her throat. “I don’t know how much you recall about the airlift. You were so terribly hurt, and someone had to go with you.”
“Why?”
Her eyes widened. “Well, because you couldn’t go alone. And since only immediate family are permitted on board the rescue helicopter, I told them I was your wife.” She ignored his muttered expletive. “It was the only way. When we got to the hospital, the situation simply got out of control.”
Jack didn’t get it. Either his thinking was fuzzy, or Abby wasn’t making much sense. He needed to be absolutely clear on this. “So, you told them we were married?”
She took a breath. “Once we got here, I never actually said anything, everyone just assumed we were married.”
“And you let them believe a lie?”
She sighed. “Well, yes.”
He lifted his brow in amazement. “That’s it?”
“Mmm,” she murmured to his added frustration. “I did sign the admission form.”
“You put it in writing.” Jack took a much-needed breath. The movement hurt his ribs, but he didn’t reveal his discomfort. Getting to the bottom of this was more important than a few broken bones. Those would heal in time. But the emotions he was feeling wouldn’t go away in a hurry. What was he feeling? Confusion? What game was she playing at? “How did you manage to fool the entire hospital staff?”
She stiffened. “No one asked questions. I really didn’t have any choice. The doctor was going to operate. He refused to rule out an amputation. I let him assume I was your wife. He finally agreed to wait until an orthopedic specialist could fly up from Boston. You asked me to save your leg. And I did. The only way I knew.”
“By claiming we’re married?” he snapped in disbelief.
“Exactly. There was no other way,” she said heatedly. “You don’t think I’d go through all this for any other reason?”
His eyes narrowed. “Why would I think that? You’ve got Seth Powers back home on a short leash. The guy’s obviously nuts about you.”
“He doesn’t own me.”
“He acts as if he does. He’s going to be furious when he hears about this.”
“I don’t see why he has to know. After all, I did what I thought necessary, now it’s over. And even if Seth should find out, I’m sure he’ll understand when I explain the circumstances.”
Jack wondered about that—if she belonged to him, he wouldn’t be that understanding. “Then he’s a fool.”
“Because he trusts me?”
“You said it, I didn’t.”
Abby sighed. “This isn’t getting us anywhere.”
Abby didn’t know what else to say.
Of course, there was no logical explanation for what she’d done. She must have lost her mind. How could she have claimed this man, even temporarily? Being in the same room with him was like entering a cage with a live tiger. Even in Jack’s weakened condition, he was still a major threat. His blue eyes, so often remote and indifferent, burned into hers, scouring her with a look that made her heart beat faster with alarm—and something more threatening.
His face was gray, and his mouth tight with pain—it was there in his eyes. How could it hurt so much to see him hurting?
His weariness apparent, he leaned back against the pillows and said dryly, “Did you ever think that maybe I’m not worth it? Maybe you should have left me on that mountainside.”
She gasped at the words. “Don’t say that! Don’t even think such a thing. I’ve gone to all this trouble, don’t you dare let me down now!”
“All right.” He laughed, obviously surprised at her vehement response, then gently mocked her with the words, “You may still live to regret it.”
Was that a promise or a threat?
They stared at each other, confused and conflicted.
Abby broke the awkward silence. “In any case, the situation is only temporary until I go home.”
“Right.”
His easy agreement hurt, which made absolutely no sense at all! “Until then, telling the hospital would only prove awkward for everyone concerned.” Of course, she had no logical explanation for what she’d done. “We could keep up the pretense for now.”
He taunted her. “And how do you suggest we accomplish that?”
“You could start by calling me Abby.”
“That should do it for the staff. If the news doesn’t leak any further, we should be able to keep a lid on it.”
“I hope so.”
He let out an exasperated breath. “If this gets back to Henderson, I’ll never live it down.”
Abby stifled a laugh. He was worried about what his friends would say. What about her friends? Her family? Her mother didn’t even approve of Seth. What on earth would she say about Jack? With luck, her mother would never have to know.
“Well, I’m not planning on telling anyone,” she assured him. “In the meantime, is there anything you need?”
He nodded. “Some ice chips.”
“What?” The simple request startled her.
“The nurse said she’d bring some ice chips, she must have forgotten.” He looked pale, his patience with their situation obviously worn thin.
With her own nerves on edge, Abby grasped the excuse and left. She found an ice machine in the staff kitchen, and filled a paper cup with ice chips.
That didn’t take very long.
His eyes were closed when she returned to his room. Assuming he must be asleep, she set the cup down on the rolling bedside table, edging it closer. She was startled when he opened his eyes and murmured, “Thanks.”
“I promised the nurse I wouldn’t tire you. I should go,” she said, her emotions brittle, aware that she was looking for an escape from all the tension. Their relationship had always been strained. Now, it was almost to the breaking point. “I’ll just leave the ice.”
His eyes flickered over her. “Sure.”
Stung by his indifference, she rushed into explanations, more excuses. “I should check into a hotel. I’ll come by later, just to see if you’re okay.”
His mouth twisted with a mocking, “Don’t go to any trouble on my account.”
“No trouble.”
That was an understatement.

After the door closed behind her, Jack’s grin faded.
Blocking everything out, he stared at the white ceiling. A light hung in the middle, casting a pale round yellowish glow. If he focused on that, he wouldn’t feel the waves of pain. He could ask for more painkillers, but he knew what those could do. He had enough problems without adding an addiction to the list.
He’d been in a lot of fixes, there had to be some way out of this one. His gaze fell to his injured leg. He stared at his foot, willing it to move. Nothing happened.
What weren’t the doctors telling him?
There was swelling around the spinal cord. What if it wasn’t that simple? Wearily, he closed his eyes.
Pain clawed at him, but his leg remained curiously numb. He tried to put it all out of his mind, focusing on something else. That something was Abigail…Abby.
She was playing some sort of game, pretending to be his wife. What were the advantages, the risks? They were totally mismatched, and he didn’t know the rules.
An image of her appeared…Abby clearly flustered when she’d kissed him. Forced to pretend she actually enjoyed it, she’d looked so annoyed, like a treed cat, spitting and clawing, unable to scratch his eyes out when he’d kissed her back in the nurse’s presence.
He smiled.
Much better.

Abby desperately needed a break. She hadn’t left the hospital in days. Although everyone was kind and helpful, they expected her to behave like a wife. Jack’s wife. Letting him in on their secret had been difficult. At the moment, continuing the pretence was beyond her acting ability.
On her way out of the hospital, Abby caught a fleeting glimpse of Jack’s surgeon. Determined to question the doctor about Jack’s prognosis, she followed him down one hall, then another. She caught up with him near an exit.
“Excuse me, I wonder if I could have a moment, I’d like to discuss a patient—Jack Slade.”
The doctor was surprisingly youthful considering his reputation as a first-rate orthopedic surgeon. Obviously in a hurry, he glanced at his watch. “I have a plane to catch.”
“This won’t take long.” Abby needed to tie up a few loose ends before going home to Henderson. She might not be Jack’s wife, but she was the only available person who could run interference with the hospital staff and speak on his behalf. “I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done.”
“Don’t thank me just yet,” he said bluntly.
Swallowing hard, Abby braced herself for more bad news. “But I was told the surgery went well.”
“Your husband will recover. Technically, we saved his leg. As you know, the surgery is experimental and there’s no guarantee how much use the leg will be to him.”
Abby absorbed the shock. “So what can be done for him? I don’t care what it costs.”
“It’s not a matter of cost,” he said more gently.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“There are things that can be done. Maintaining his general physical and mental health are vital. When it’s time, he’ll be transferred to a rehabilitation unit. And that’s where the tough part comes in. That’s where you come in.”
She bit her lip. “I don’t understand.”
“Over the next months, he’s going to be fighting an uphill battle. Much of his success will depend on his desire to get well. He’s going to need you.”
Months!
Reminded that she was playing a temporary role, Abby saw all the pitfalls she’d ignored before. How could she have thought to escape the repercussions of pretending to be Jack’s wife?
“Yes, of course,” she agreed, but wasn’t this taking pretence too far?
“This must seem overwhelming. It’s all going to take time. I hope he’s the patient sort.”
Abby smiled. “No, he’s not.” Jack burned energy just standing still, which made his injuries all the more tragic.
The doctor glanced at his wristwatch again. “I still have a plane to catch.”
“But what do I tell Jack?”
“The truth—when you think he’s ready to hear it.”
“When will that be?”
He left her with an ambiguous, “You’ll know.”
How would she know?
Jack was a virtual stranger. They’d rarely spoken before his accident. Once, Jack had driven her home and they’d hardly exchanged a word. She’d given him directions to her house. He’d acted as if he couldn’t wait to get rid of her. The feeling had been entirely mutual. Abby had never spent a more uncomfortable fifteen minutes. Until now.
She had no idea what constituted Jack’s inner thoughts or feelings—if he had any.
Abby walked down a corridor, then another. Like a maze, every hallway looked alike, every door remained closed. She saw an open door. She walked hastily toward it, anxious to find a way out. But instead of an exit, she found herself in a large room with a wall of sunlit windows overlooking park-like grounds and a pond. There was no way out.
Startled, she stared at her own reflection in the glass. Her face was drawn, her eyes looked bruised from lack of sleep. Yes, she’d lost sleep over Jack Slade. She was in grave danger of losing much, much more. Like a diamond in the rough, Jack had a devastating charm she couldn’t deny.
Despite that undeniable threat, she didn’t regret her decision to pose as his wife, thereby insisting his surgery be delayed until a specialist could be consulted. The hospital staff had never questioned her claim. If the facts were to come out now, there might be legal repercussions. At the very least, the situation would be embarrassing for everyone concerned.
She smiled faintly, recalling her mother’s frequent warning that pride would be Abby’s downfall. She really had no choice but to continue the deception. Earlier, she’d been relieved when Jack had agreed. It was too late for second thoughts now.
So, why was she having them?
She was so mixed up. She’d once heard that if you saved a life, that person belonged to you. Abby shuddered at the thought.
Moments later, she found an exit and pushed her way through a set of heavy revolving doors. She stood on the pavement, breathing in the frigid air. The wind carried a bite. Wrapping her coat around her, she began to walk. She passed some skaters on the frozen pond. It all seemed so normal, yet nothing in her life felt real.
She checked into a nearby hotel.
The desk clerk raised an eyebrow at her lack of luggage. “How long do you plan to stay?”
“A day or two.” Abby had no idea. In all conscience, could she go back to Henderson and leave Jack to cope on his own? She couldn’t think of that now.
Her hotel room wasn’t luxurious, but it was more than adequate. After a long soak in the bathtub, she wrapped herself in a terry bathrobe provided by the hotel.
With distaste, she gazed at the clothes she’d worn for the past three days. Her lack of wardrobe wasn’t insurmountable. A phone call to a department store soon resolved the problem. A salesclerk promised to have a selection of lingerie and casual outfits in Abby’s size sent to the hotel for approval. That dealt with, Abby hung up.
After living in a small town for the last three months, she’d almost forgotten the conveniences of city living—not that she had missed it. She’d moved back to help Drew reopen the sawmill. Her family had closed it down and moved away several years ago, and Abby had gone with them. Returning to Henderson had created some unnecessary complications to her life. For one thing, Seth Powers had read more into her decision than she’d intended. She’d once had a crush on him but that was a long time ago.
Her parents disapproved of Seth, a small-town sheriff. They wanted Abby to marry well—meaning upward. What would they think of Jack?
Abby felt weak at the mere thought.
Or maybe she was weak with hunger?
Reminded that she hadn’t eaten a decent meal in days, Abby ordered room service. “A mushroom omelet, toast and raspberry tea, if you have it.”
While waiting for the meal, she picked up the phone and dialed her brother’s phone number. “Hi, Drew. It’s me.”
His voice sounded warm and familiar. “I wondered when you’d get around to calling. How’s Jack?”
“I’m worried about him,” she said after a moment’s hesitation. “The doctor’s aren’t promising anything much.”
“Does Jack know?”
“Not yet.” On impulse, she added, “If I decide to stay for a while, do you think someone could fill in for me at the sawmill? The situation here is complicated.”
“Tell me about it,” he said dryly. “It’s all over the newspapers. A reporter dug up Jack’s prison record. He’s not going to be happy about that.”
Abby gasped. “So everyone knows?”
“You’re off the hook. Everyone here knows better than to believe everything they read. They assumed the reporter messed up the part about you and Jack being married.”
“Well, that’s one less thing to worry about.”
“That doesn’t clear everything up. Do you know what you’re doing?”
She laughed, admitting shakily, “No.”
Drew didn’t sound amused. “Abby, I’m not going to tell you what to do with your life. I care about you. Jack is my friend, so is Seth. Someone’s bound to get hurt.”
“Seth will understand.” He always did.
“Well, you’d better get your story straight because he’s on his way. He intends to bring you back with him.” Drew changed the subject. “By the way, Olivia sends her love. You missed our New Year’s announcement—we’re having a baby.”
Abby could hear the emotion in his voice. Drew’s good news emphasized the emptiness in her own life. “That’s wonderful. I’m so happy for you both.”
“Yes, it’s pretty great.”
The conversation ended on that lighter note.
After hanging up, Abby dialed room service and ordered a newspaper. Fifteen minutes later, a hotel steward delivered her meal with a newspaper folded on the tray. After tipping him generously, Abby ignored the food and reached for the paper.
Splashed across the front page, the eye-catching headline said it all—Dramatic Air Rescue.
The reporter had romanticized the event—a devoted young wife going to her husband’s rescue. They were identified simply as Jack and Abby Slade.
Abby sighed.
So much for keeping a lid on it!

Chapter Four
In smaller print, the subtitle—Ex-con Injured in Logging Accident—had more impact. The reporter had gone to great lengths to dig up old news.
There was quite a lot. Feeling like an intruder invading Jack’s private life, Abby skimmed over the details. At the age of twenty, he’d served three years in prison for a crime he hadn’t committed. Jack Slade was innocent. As if she needed convincing, Abby read that sentence twice.
Drew had tried to tell her that Jack was a victim of bad luck, but she’d refused to listen.
Was it easier to believe Jack was guilty?
Easier to dislike him?
Safer?
A knock at the door announced the arrival of the saleswoman from the department store. “I brought a selection of items for you to choose from. They’re casual styles as you requested.” She was carrying several boxes.
Abby opened the door wider. “Just put them anywhere. How much do I owe you?”
“I wasn’t sure about the colors. Wouldn’t you like to look them over first?” The woman handed her the bill.
Abby signed it, her family had an account at the store. “I’m sure they’ll be fine.” She smiled politely to hide her impatience and saw the woman out.
According to her brother, Seth was on his way. Since he’d probably turn up at the hospital looking for her, she should be getting back. Under the circumstances, her wardrobe or lack of it was the last thing on her mind.
She normally wore tailored clothes, neutral colors, discreet makeup. What did it matter what she wore?
No one would notice.

Jack noticed.
In fact, he couldn’t help but stare at Abby’s altered appearance when she arrived. She hesitated a moment before she entered the hospital room, and suddenly, the sterile green room took on light. She removed her wool coat and set it aside. A bright jade-green sweater hugged her breasts; slim black slacks made her legs look longer, her hips round and womanly. Her face was flushed, her mouth was naturally pink, her eyes a shimmering hazel.
It took Jack a moment to realize she wasn’t wearing makeup. Without it, she looked younger, more vulnerable, more accessible. He frowned. What was she up to now?
He couldn’t fully trust her, Abby had too much money and too much time on her hands. She was a woman in search of a cause. And he was it. In all their dealings, he had to remember that. However, he hadn’t always felt that way about Abby.
If fate didn’t have a twisted sense of humor, he and Abby would never have crossed paths in a million years.
However, through mischance, he’d once shared a minimum-security prison cell with her brother. To say they’d hit it off would be a stretch. Until then, Drew had obviously played at life while Jack merely survived. Thus, better schooled in the art, Jack bailed Drew out of trouble with another inmate, and they became allies. A loner by choice, Jack had soon concluded that Drew had alienated everyone who once cared for him. The Pierce money hadn’t cushioned his fall from grace and for the first time in his life, Drew was taking responsibility for his own mistakes. His parents had apparently disowned him. As far as Jack could tell, Abby was the only family member to stand by Drew.
Recalling the steady flow of letters she’d sent her brother in prison, Jack admired her loyalty. She’d written about college, her wacky roommates, her stern chemistry professor with the handlebar mustache. An average student, she’d loved art and music, hated math and chemistry, run a marathon and volunteered to work in a soup kitchen. One summer, she learned to water-ski, the next she worked at a camp for underprivileged children.
She’d sent pictures. To be honest, Jack had fallen just a little bit in love with Abby—the pretty girl with the pensive smile and soft mysterious eyes.
That was before he met Abigail.
The first day he’d applied for a job at the sawmill, she’d frozen him off with one look that should have put Jack exactly in his place—had he known where that was.
Now she spoke quietly, “The nurse said to notify her when you woke up,” as if she didn’t want to disturb him. It was too late for that—Jack’s pulse had soared the moment she walked into the room.
“Go ahead. I’m not going anywhere.” Apparently, neither was Abigail. He tried to shut out her voice, the soft floral scent of her perfume. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
After buzzing the nurse, Abby said, “Something came up.”
“Let me guess—the newspaper article.”
Her startled gaze shifted to the newspaper on the edge of the bedside stand. “I see you got a copy.”
“The nurse brought it around.” She’d also made the bed with him in it. By the time Tammy had completed the task, they were both exhausted. Between one thing and another, Jack was in a foul mood. “So, our little secret is out. We’re married. You know, we could have avoided this mess by admitting the truth and clearing up the confusion at the start.”
“I know.” Abby twisted her hands together, stopping when his gaze followed the nervous gesture. She slid her hands into her pockets. “But I never thought it would get into the papers. It’s too late to do anything about it now.”
“We could explain the situation and get it over with.”
“But that might create more headlines and involve the hospital in legalities. Besides, it would be awkward for everyone concerned.” Meaning Abigail.
Jack smiled grimly. “And you don’t think pretending to be married will be awkward?”
“It needn’t be. This is a hospital,” she pointed out in a reasonable tone that grated on his nerves. “No one asks personal questions unless it directly affects a patient’s health. Please don’t be angry.”
“I’m not angry—I’m confused. Why did you do it?”
She shrugged. “Because you asked for my help. I know that sounds odd, but everything was happening so fast. I didn’t have time to think. I just got carried along with the situation.”
“What are your parents going to say?”
“They’re away at the moment.”
“That will buy you time, but nothing else.”
Apparently, Abby had more pressing concerns. “Is everything the reporter wrote true?”
“More or less.” Wrongly accused, he’d spent three years in prison before he was cleared of all charges. However, he’d left something behind in prison—his youth, his faith in the goodness of his fellow man. And his belief in tomorrow.
Abby frowned. “You never committed any crime. When you first arrived in Henderson, why didn’t you explain?”
“Because no one asked.” Jack hoped she’d take the hint and change the subject. He’d spent time in prison—end of story. Almost. Eventually, he’d been set free—with apologies from the prosecutor, but nothing else. Well, sorry didn’t win back your self-respect or hand you a job. Shackled by the bitter memory of a friend’s betrayal, Jack was free of all emotional ties and determined to remain that way.
“You met my brother in prison. Drew made some mistakes, but he’s made up for them. I’m very proud of him.”
“He’s a good man.” Jack wondered where this conversation was going. As far as he could tell, Drew had turned his life around after his release. In quick order, he’d married, settled down and reopened the sawmill. With Olivia firmly in his corner, he was earning the respect of the townspeople who still doubted his sincerity. And his commitment. In some ways, the jury was still out when it came to Drew Pierce. He’d come a long way from the spoiled careless playboy in Jack’s estimation. Prison could make or break a man. As Gran would say, “the same fire that melts butter forges steel.” Jack frowned, wondering if the same could be said of him.
Abby continued. “He’s worked hard to turn his life around.”
Ah—so that was it. Jack smiled wearily. He’d arrived in Henderson with a chip on his shoulder and something to prove—to himself. Drew Pierce had owed him a favor and given him a job on a logging crew. Before the accident, things had been working out. That was then, this was now. Now, more than ever, Jack couldn’t lower his guard and let people close—Abby topped the list. “You were afraid I’d drag him down again.”

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