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Her smile faded and her eyes shot him a wary glance when he opened the heavy glass door of the jewelry store.
“Karl!”
He turned a cringe into a smile as they were greeted exuberantly by the older woman who owned the store. “Mrs. Delvecchio, Hannah Thalberg.”
Mrs. Delvecchio spread her arms wide. “It’s a pleasure to meet the woman who’s finally reeled in this one.” She tapped a hand loaded with rings over her heart, her eyes bright. “Aren’t you a beautiful pair? This way. I had just enough time to pull a few options together.”
“What are you doing?” Hannah hissed at him as they followed the jeweler toward a small consulting table.
At the moment, he was trying to navigate the small shop without crashing through a display case. It wasn’t just the tight quarters. He’d worked his way through plenty of those. But tight quarters coupled with the oppressive reality that he was buying wedding rings twisted him up inside. A wife was something he’d sworn off for the rest of this lifetime. And there was the added bonus of deceiving everyone else in his life, from Mrs. Delvecchio to his son. His breath stalled in his lungs. Christ, he might be having a panic attack.
“Are you okay?” Her hand slipped down his arm, her fingers lacing with his. “Have a seat.”
“Karl, darling. Relax. You know I’ll give you the best price.”
And she’d probably charge him for the privilege of returning the rings when the charade was over. Imagining how that conversation would go finally made him smile.
He patted Hannah’s knee. “I set the appointment, so my part’s over. Go ahead and choose whatever setting you like best.”
Watching her mouth drop open made his internal battle almost worth the effort.
Mrs. Delvecchio’s eyes gleamed with the potential sale and she quickly sized their ring fingers and went to work.
Bart sat back, making what he hoped were the appropriate noises, marveling at a process which turned the pragmatic Hannah into an almost fluttery girl.
He thought Mrs. Delvecchio had Hannah sold on a square cut diamond when his fake bride shook her head. “Just these for now,” she said, touching two simple gold bands. “I’d never be able to wear that at work.”
That was a load of crap and they both knew it. Mrs. Delvecchio probably knew it. Bart called himself a coward for not finding the right explanation for this detour. He exchanged a look with Mrs. Delvecchio. “Give us a minute, please?”
When the jeweler was out of earshot, he turned his full attention on Hannah. “Why couldn’t you wear that at work?”
She glanced past him. “You can’t be serious about this. It’s too much.”
“You can’t think I’ll let my wife run around without a ring.”
“Put a quarter in a gumball machine. Better yet, take a band off one of the cigars you sell. That’s enough for what we need to accomplish here.”
“There’s no telling how long it will take to wrap this up.” He took her hand in his. Mesmerized, he traced the long line of her fingers and the delicate veins under her soft skin. “Bad enough Maria told the staff I kept my new wife a secret all this time. I’ll never hear the end of it if they think I skimped on the most romantic part of the process.”
“We know better. Isn’t that what matters most?”
He agreed on one level. “Selling the story matters more. For your safety and mine.”
“This is too much,” she repeated.
“No, it’s necessary. I can sell it back when we’ve wrapped your case.”
“You can?”
He sure hoped so. “You’ll be saving me too.”
“How’s that?”
He leaned forward, the scent of her hair tickling his nose as he whispered in her ear. “Mrs. Delvecchio’s been trying to set me up with her great niece for the last year. It’s a huge help to be off the market.”
She leaned back, her hands warm on his jaw as she looked him square in the eye. “You’re telling the truth.”
“Honesty is my policy.”
