The Trophy Wife. Sandra Steffen

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grinning, Coop left, closing the door behind him.

      Amber stared up at Tripp. The room, all at once, was very quiet. Maybe too quiet. Something was wrong.

      Tripp’s eyes had narrowed. Hers were wide open. His breathing was deep, hers, shallow. In the tight space so near him, she thought of a dozen questions. What position? What does it have to do with Santa Rosa? What rival? Who was Olivia?

      Three separate times, she opened her mouth to voice one of them. Her gaze caught on Tripp’s mouth. He really had a marvelous mouth, the bottom lip fuller than the top. Right now, both were set in a straight line.

      “Is something wrong?”

      The question seemed to bring him to his senses. He took a deep breath, let it all out and paced to the other side of the cluttered office. “Coop thinks we’re lovers. What on earth could possibly be wrong? And what are you doing here, besides charming the socks off every male you meet?”

      Amber recognized an attack when she was under one. She didn’t understand the reason for it. “I repeat. What’s wrong?”

      “Nothing.”

      “Bull.”

      That got his attention. “Do you make a habit of eavesdropping?”

      “The door was open,” she said quietly.

      He glanced over her shoulder, and so did she. The door was closed now. And they were alone. Tripp took a backward step, putting more distance between them.

      “Coop can hold his own,” he said, “but the orderly I saw you with earlier is still a boy. It was like watching the bored, pampered house cat play with a poor defenseless mouse.”

      Poor defenseless mouse? For long seconds, Amber could only stare at him, stunned. Finally, she said, “Fredrico is about as defenseless as an octopus.”

      “Fredrico?”

      She’d been prepared for several questions. That wasn’t one of them. “He helped you smuggle that puppy into the hospital. Surely you know his name.”

      “I know Fred’s name. Everybody does.”

      She was getting a bad feeling about this. Now that she thought about it, Nurse Proctor had called the boy Fred. “I see.”

      Tripp was on a roll. “Good, because Don and Mary Smith might have named their son Frederick, but definitely not Fredrico.”

      All right, already. The boy had pulled one over on her. That didn’t explain the reason for Tripp’s bad mood, or what he and Cooper had been talking about. “Let’s talk about positions, shall we?”

      Tripp’s pulses leapt. “I beg your pardon?”

      “Didn’t I overhear something about a position you’re hoping to gain down in Santa Rosa?”

      Ah. She was referring to the position he’d applied for at an exclusive, private practice in Santa Rosa, not, er, the position for another activity completely unrelated to medicine. He cleared his throat. Clearing his mind of the mental picture that had sprung straight out of his imagination was more difficult to accomplish.

      “There’s an opening in pediatrics there. The practice is affiliated with the oldest, most prestigious hospital in Santa Rosa. It’s larger than Ukiah County General, and wealthier by far. I would receive a higher salary, and ultimately, I could reach a lot more kids.”

      “Then I don’t see the problem. I’ll do it.”

      She stared up at him with luminous green eyes so large it was easy to get lost in their depths. “What exactly are you proposing?”

      He didn’t have much mind capacity left at this point, but even he had enough to appreciate the effort she put forth to keep from rolling her eyes. “Your rival is going to be there with his fiancée, right? I’ll go with you. Then you and your rival will be starting on even ground.”

      He stared at her for several seconds. She looked happy, as if she was enjoying herself. Again, he thought of a pampered house cat. Olivia used to look like that, too. It was a sobering thought.

      “What are you doing here, Amber?”

      Her eyes delved into his. She really had very expressive eyes. He imagined they would look this way, large and luminous, in the dark. Whoa. That kind of thinking could be dangerous to a man who was trying to keep his wits about him.

      She reached out, touching the watch she’d placed in his hand minutes earlier. “Inez discovered this in the living room at Hacienda de Alegria. You were right. About Inez, I mean. She was matchmaking, just as you said. It would have been apparent even without all the advice she gave me along with directions to the hospital here in Ukiah. Don’t worry. I have no intention of allowing Inez to manipulate me.”

      It was true, Amber thought. She didn’t allow many people to push her around. Besides, she didn’t need anybody to play matchmaker for her. The three marriage proposals she’d received these past five years spoke for themselves. Amber Colton knew how to get a man. She was beginning to doubt she would ever find one to love, however. There had been a strong attraction between her and Tripp in the garden earlier that day. Though it wasn’t love, it had been fun.

      “You want this position. I’d like to help you get it.”

      “What’s in it for you?” he asked.

      “What makes you think there has to be something in it for me?”

      The sound he made in the back of his throat spoke volumes. There was arrogance and belligerence in the lift of that chiseled chin. In that instant, he reminded her of how he’d looked after she’d stood up for him to her father all those years ago.

      “All right,” she said. “We were friends when we were kids. I’m hoping we can be friends again. Friends help each other. If acting as your fiancée for one evening helps you gain a position you want, so be it.”

      “I don’t like lying. Lies are like dogs. They seem harmless to your face, but the minute you turn your back, they go straight for the seat of your pants.”

      “Pretending isn’t the same as lying. If you need—”

      He shook his head. “I want to do this on my own, without the help of a bored heiress in need of a project.”

      Her mouth fell open. She snapped it closed. Finally she said, “Of all the condescending…” But words failed her. She swung around in a huff and reached the door in three brisk strides. “If you ever decide to come down off your high horse, give me a call.”

      She slammed the door.

      She hadn’t gone far when she heard Tripp being paged to the ICU.

      He reached the elevator seconds after her. They entered in single file. She punched the button for the lobby, he the second floor.

      When the door closed, he said, “I suppose I owe you an apology.”

      She stared straight ahead. “That didn’t sound very convincing, Tripp. Unless you’re

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