His Pretend Wife. Lisette Belisle

      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