Token Wife
To Have & To Hold, Book 6
Denial can't withstand desire forever...
Lena married Rowan for all the practical reasons: a green card, stability, and a mother for his daughter Emma. Their arrangement was platonic, safe, and free from the heartbreak that claimed her fiancé years ago. She could live with that compromise.
Rowan agreed to the terms, but he's been quietly breaking them since the day they met. Fighting an attraction he has no right to feel. Honoring a loyalty to a dead man that grows harder to maintain with each passing year.
When an unexpected kiss shatters five years of careful distance, everything changes. The passion between them is undeniable, intoxicating, and terrifying. But surrendering to what they both crave means confronting the ghosts that haunt them both and risking the only family either has ever truly had.
“A carrot would have made a much better microphone,” came a deep voice from behind her.
Lena choked on her words mid-lyric, leaping back in horror as she spun around. Rowan stood in the entryway to the kitchen, leaning against the doorjamb, his expression almost unreadable, although there was a tiny quirk around his lips that made her flush.
“You’re home!” Lena squawked. Then, looking down at her own body in horror, added, “Oh great, and I’m auditioning for the Naked Chef!” She dropped the bundle of celery and hastily backed away, mortified, wishing she could vanish on the spot.
Rowan’s gaze swept over her nude body, his eyes darkening with an emotion she couldn’t quite place before he glanced away, a small smile playing on his lips.
Lena’s cheeks burned. She couldn’t tell if he was amused at her exposure or embarrassed by it. His expression gave nothing away.
She had to escape, put some distance between them. Lena took a few more hurried steps back and immediately regretted it as she collided with the mop bucket she’d filled with soapy water just a few minutes earlier.
It tipped over, spreading suds across the tiled kitchen floor and making it akin to a slippery ice rink. Lena felt her bare feet slide beneath her and frantically tried to maintain her balance but failed.
With her arms flailing wildly, she let out a yelp and went down.
Rowan lunged forward, arms outstretched. But the cold, slick tiles were quicker. Her bare butt hit the floor with a wet smack, and her limbs splayed embarrassingly, putting everything on display for her in-name-only husband.
“Don’t look!” she yelled frantically, grabbing the handles of the kitchen cupboards to haul herself up.
“Let me help you!” he protested. He was uncomfortably close.
When she was precariously back on her feet, she felt close to tears. How humiliating was this?
Frantically, Lena snatched up a nearby kitchen towel. It was barely big enough to cover her, but it was better than nothing.
“I’m fine,” she said curtly. She pressed the towel to her front, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. “May I please have some privacy,” Lena said curtly.
