New Year Escapes. Leslie Kelly

stopped.” He nodded toward George’s head.

      But George didn’t notice. His attention had been grabbed by the glimpse of someone just beyond the door. “Sophy?”

      Was he seeing things? She’d gone, hadn’t she? Done her “duty” and hightailed it back to California?

      But just as he thought it, she poked her head around the doorjamb. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you. I thought Tallie might have come back.”

      Tallie? George started to shake his head, then thought better of it. “No. She went to get the boys from school. You talked to Tallie?”

      Tallie certainly hadn’t mentioned it. His sister had breezed in this morning to see how he was doing. Well, breeze might not have been the right word. Waddle, maybe. She’d looked as if she was going to have her baby any minute. He hadn’t seen her in a month, and she hadn’t been nearly that big last time he had. He felt a little guilty calling her last night and asking her to take care of the dog.

      That was mostly what they’d talked about when she’d come by this morning.

      “Gunnar’s all taken care of,” she’d assured him. “Don’t worry about a thing.”

      She’d left again, promising to drop by later.

      “Don’t bother,” he’d told her. It was enough that she was taking care of Gunnar. And what the hell did Sophy want with her?

      “I talked to her briefly,” Sophy was saying. “She came in as I was leaving. She will be back?” she asked now, as if it mattered more than a little.

      “I hope not,” George said. “Why?”

      “I—” Sophy hesitated “—have something to give her.”

      “Leave it here. I’ll take it home when I go. She can get it from me.”

      “Well, I—”

      “But if it’s urgent, don’t bother,” Sam cut in, and George realized that he’d completely forgotten about Sam, who went right on. “He’s not going anywhere.”

      “The hell I’m not!”

      Sophy looked from him to Sam and back again, her eyes wide and questioning.

      “Ignore him,” George said.

      “Right, ignore me,” Sam agreed. “I’m only his doctor.”

      “What’s wrong with him?” Sophy was looking at Sam.

      “Other than being obstinate, bloody-minded and immature?” Sam raised a brow. “Not much. Well, no, that’s not true. But the rest is confidential. Patient privacy, you know? He’d have to kill you if I told you.” He gave George a sly grin, then turned a far warmer one on Sophy, which was when George remembered that Sam always had had a thing for the ladies.

      “Cut it out,” George said with enough of an icy edge to his voice that Sam’s grin faded.

      His friend looked at him, then at Sophy, then back at him. “What?”

      George gave him a steely look, but didn’t speak.

      Sam looked at him curiously, gaze narrowing speculatively. But when George still didn’t say anything, he shrugged and made his move. Sticking out his hand he crossed the room toward Sophy. “Hi, pleased to meet you. I’m Sam Harlowe.”

      She took Sam’s hand, smiled warmly back at him. “George’s doctor.”

      “For my sins. And every once in a while—though not necessarily at the moment—his friend. And you are—?” He still had hold of Sophy’s hand.

      “I’m Sophy,” she said. “McKinnon.”

      “Savas,” George said flatly from the bed, loud enough and firmly enough that they both turned toward him. He raised his chin and didn’t give a damn if the top of his head blew right off. “George’s wife.”

       CHAPTER THREE

      “EX-WIFE,” SOPHY corrected instantly, staring at George in astonishment. “You do remember that, don’t you?”

      George folded his arms across his chest. “I remember no one has filed for divorce yet.”

      “You said you would. If you don’t, I will,” she told him fiercely, then flicked a glance at Sam Harlowe. He was, of course, watching this exchange with the fascination of a man with courtside seats at the U.S. Open.

      “Well,” he said briskly, smiling as he did so, “I’ll just leave the two of you to discuss this, shall I? Nice to meet you, Sophy.” He squeezed her hand again, then raised a brow and gave her what could only be described as an “interested” look. The smile turned into a grin. “Let me know when you get your marital status figured out.”

      She didn’t blame him for being amused. From the outside it probably was amusing. From where she stood her marriage to George was anything but. But she managed to give Sam a wry smile in return.

      “I’ll do that,” she said, not because she intended to, but because it would obviously annoy George.

      “See you tomorrow,” Sam said to George with a meaningful arch of his brows.

      “Not here,” George said.

      “No,” Sam began.

      But George cut him off. “You said I could go home if I had someone to stay with me.”

      “You don’t.”

      “Sophy will do it.”

      “I—”

      George turned his eyes on her. “Payback,” he said softly. “Isn’t that what you came for?”

      “You said—”

      “I didn’t know, did I?” He was all silky reasonableness now. “I thought I’d be out of here today. No problem. But Dr. Dan here—” he gave a wry jerk of his head toward Sam “—thinks I need someone to watch over me, hold my hand, wipe my fevered brow—”

      “Kick your bony ass,” Sam suggested acerbically.

      George didn’t even glance his way. He sat in the bed, the bedclothes fisted in his fingers, his unshaven jaw dark, his eyes glittering as his gaze bored into hers. “It’s what you do, isn’t it?”

      She’d certainly like to kick his ass right now. Unfortunately she doubted that’s what he meant. “What are you talking about?”

      “Rent-a-Wife. It’s your business,” he reminded her, as if she might have forgotten. “I’ll ‘rent’ you.”

      Sam goggled.

      Sophy gaped. She couldn’t even find words.

      George could. “It’s simple. Perfectly straightforward. Like I said, it’s what you do. I mean, you did come and offer, but if you’re going to renege on your ‘payback,’ fine. I’ll hire you instead.”

      “Don’t be ridiculous.”

      He gave her a perfectly guileless look. “Nothing ridiculous about it. It’s sane, and reasonable. A suitable solution to a problem.” George was in professor mode now. She wanted to strangle him.

      He looked at Sam. “You did say that, didn’t you?”

      Sam rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, I—” And Sophy thought he might deny what George had said. But then he shrugged helplessly. “That’s what I said. You can go home if you get someone to keep an eye on you. If you take it easy. If you don’t do stupid stuff. No straining. No lifting. No running up and down the stairs. No hot sex,” he added firmly.

      “Well, damn,” George