The Bachelor's Stand-In Wife

“I picked up a pizza,” he said to Valerie. “Come up to the house when you’re ready and we’ll reheat it. We’ll talk business afterward.”

“Both of us?”

“Your daughter needs to eat, too, right?”

“I can take her a plate.”

“We’ll make an exception for tonight.”

Valerie nodded. He walked away, sensing her relief. He knew, given her background of false accusations of sexual harassment, that she would be more wary than most, more aware of potential impropriety. He respected that. He wanted a long-term, employer/employee relationship with her. He would be just as careful as she.

He got partway down the path when he heard the thunder of Belle’s paws pounding the flagstone behind him, getting closer. He turned. She bounded to a halt and shook the pool water from her fur, head to tail, drenching him.

Hannah shrieked with laughter then clamped a hand over her mouth. Valerie stood frozen, awaiting his response. He hunkered down and wrapped his arms around his great old dog, getting himself wetter in the process, glad to have her home.

So much for impeccable behavior, Valerie thought with a sigh as she and Hannah walked to the cottage a few minutes later. He’d caught her in her bathing suit, totally goofing off, acting like a kid. How embarrassing. Not an auspicious start to their business relationship at all.

“Belle’s a neat dog,” Hannah said. “I never knew dogs liked to swim. I mean, I know they can, because there’s even a name for it, right? The dog paddle? But I didn’t know they would just jump in and swim around.”

“Just don’t get too attached. She’s his dog, not yours.”

“But he’s gone a lot. You said so. She’ll be staying with us, won’t she? She can’t stay in that big ol’ house by herself. She’d be sooo lonely.”

Hannah’s eyes pleaded with Valerie, who tried not to laugh. Right. Belle would be lonely.

Valerie and Hannah unloaded the car, then showered and dressed for their first dinner with the boss. The evening temperature was perfect as they took the path to the house and climbed the back stairs. Through a window Valerie saw a kitchen and was glad she would be working in a space with such a spectacular view, not only of the pool but the tree-studded hills.

She knocked on the kitchen door. After a minute she knocked again. Finally she turned the handle and leaned inside. “Hello?”

“Be right there. Make yourself at home,” David called, the words muffled by distance.

“Wow. Our old apartment would fit in here,” Hannah said, looking around at the kitchen and breakfast nook.

The stainless steel appliances made it contemporary, but there was a rustic feel, too, in the pine cabinets and autumn-toned granite countertops. Not a curtain in sight, either, nor any plants. Nothing to soften the streamlined feel of the place, the home of someone who didn’t really live there, but used it as a base camp.

David breezed into the room. He’d changed from slacks and a dress shirt to jeans and a T-shirt, and was barefoot. Belle trailed him. Valerie wondered how old David was. Thirty?

“Settled in?” he asked.

“Almost. We haven’t put everything away, but it’s all in the house,” Valerie answered, keeping a hand on Hannah’s shoulder so that she wouldn’t run to Belle, who wagged her tail in greeting.

“The stove’s preheated,” David said. “Shouldn’t take too long. I hope you like pepperoni.” He slid a large pizza into the oven. “How about a tour while it heats.”

“That would be great.”

The inside of the house was as stunning as the outside. It was a man’s home, but a classy one, the environment clearly of someone who liked art and color, who had style. Maybe a decorator should get credit, but David would have had to approve everything purchased, so he must’ve had a hand in the final result in some way.

On the first floor was a living room with a stone fireplace, a family room holding a woodstove that piped heat into the rest of the house, a large dining room with a table and chairs for twelve, an office and a powder room. Upstairs were four bedrooms, two baths and the master suite, with its enormous bed and spectacular view, the same as in the kitchen, of the pool and mountains, even the cottage. Heavy green drapes framed the windows. She wondered how often he shut them.

She wondered, too, how often he had company. Female company. He was an attractive and successful man. Did he have a regular girlfriend?

“It’s an incredible home,” she said to him, having given up on keeping Hannah by her side. She and Belle had teamed up, following at their own pace. “Although a lot of house for one person.”

“I spend much of my life in airplanes and hotel rooms. I need a place to spread out.”

“How long have you lived here?”

“Had it built five years ago.”

They headed out the bedroom door and downstairs. Valerie motioned to Hannah, who played on the landing with Belle, tossing the dog’s rag doll, then throwing it again after Belle brought it back.

“How much are you gone?” she asked.

“At least half the month. My oldest brother, Noah, and I have owned the business for eleven years. We used to share the overseas work, but Noah’s wife died three years ago, and now he has their four children to take care of.” They reached the bottom of the staircase, which faced a wall of family photos. He pointed to a photo of a man and woman with four children. “He’s needed to be with them, I understand that, so I’ve been doing all the traveling. But someday I hope we can split the work again. I’m also trying to figure out ways to do less overseas and more here in the States.”

Valerie heard frustration in his voice. Or maybe weariness. “How old are the children?”

“He has two sets of twins, as you can see. Ashley and Zoe are twelve. Adam and Zachary are nine. They’re…very well behaved.”

Valerie wondered why he said that as if it was a bad thing. “You said he was your oldest brother. You have others?”

“One, Gideon.” He tapped a photo. “He’s the middle child.”

“Your parents like biblical names,” she said with a smile.

“Our father did.”

The man in the picture he pointed to resembled Noah most of all, but she could see David in him, too.

“We have different mothers. This one’s mine,” he went on to say, moving to the photo of a young woman, the picture probably taken twenty years ago, given her hairstyle.

“Do you want to eat in the kitchen or on the deck?” he asked in a quick change of subject.

“The deck,” Hannah said, focused on the photographs, apparently fascinated. Then she caught Valerie’s pointed look. “Please,” she added.