The 200% Wife Read online

  Unfeminine. Unsexy. Undesirable. Deep down, that was how she’d always seen herself.

  Guys often came on to her, she’d never doubted she was physically attractive. But she had this awkward…fault.

  On the rare occasions she’d let a guy close, the instant he kissed her she started worrying about her performance. Was she kissing him back hard enough? Being sexy enough? Pleasing him? What if they bumped noses?

  But something was going wrong with Gar. Seriously wrong.

  His mouth touched hers, first lightly, then playfully, before settling in for a savoring slow kiss. It was as if he had nothing more important to do with his time than stand there and kiss her, maybe forever.

  And Abby suddenly forgot to worry about bumping noses….

  THE STANFORD SISTERS: Three sisters discover once-in-a-lifetime love and strengthen the bonds of family!

  Dear Reader,

  As the long summer stretches before us, July sizzles with a enticing Special Edition lineup!

  We begin with this month’s THAT SPECIAL WOMAN! title brought to you by the wonderful Jennifer Greene. She concludes her STANFORD SISTERS series with The 200% Wife—an engaging story about one woman’s quest to be the very best at everything, most especially love.

  If you delight in marriage-of-convenience stories that evolve into unexpected love, be sure to check out Mail-Order Matty by Emilie Richards, book one in our FROM BUD TO BLOSSOM theme series. Written by four popular authors, this brand-new series contains magical love stories that bring change to the characters’ lives when they least expect it.

  Pull out your handkerchiefs, because we have a three-hankie Special Edition novel that will touch you unlike any of the stories you’ve experienced before. Nothing Short of a Miracle by Patricia Thayer is a poignant story about a resilient woman, a devoted father and a cherished son who yearn for a miracle—and learn to trust in the wondrous power of love.

  If absorbing amnesia stories are your forte, be sure to check out Forgotten Fianc#233;e by Lucy Gordon. Or perhaps you can’t pass up an engrossing family drama with a seductive twist. Then don’t miss out on The Ready-Made Family by Laurie Paige. Finally, we wrap up a month of irresistible romance when one love-smitten heroine impulsively poses as her twin sister and marries the man of her dreams in Substitute Bride by Trisha Alexander.

  An entire summer of romance is just beginning to unfold at Special Editionl I hope you enjoy each and every story to come!

  Sincerely,

  Tara Gavin,

  Senior Editor

  Please address questions and book requests to:

  Silhouette Reader Service

  U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269

  Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3

  The 200% Wife

  Jennifer Greene

  Books by Jennifer Greene

  Silhouette Special Edition

  †The 200% Wife #1111

  Silhouette Intimate Moments

  Secrets #221

  Devil’s Night #305

  Broken Blossom #345

  Pink Topaz #418

  Silhouette Books

  Birds. Bees and Babies 1990

  “Riley’s Baby”

  Santa’s Little Helpers 1995

  “Twelfth Night”

  * Jock’s Boys

  † The Stanford Sisters

  Silhouette Desire

  Body and Soul #263

  Foolish Pleasure #293

  Madam’s Room #326

  Dear Reader #350

  Minx #366

  Lady Be Good #385

  Love Potion #421

  The Castle Keep #439

  Lady of the Island #463

  Night of the Hunter #481

  Dancing in the Dark #498

  Heat Wave #553

  Slow Dance #600

  Night Light #619

  Falconer #671

  It Had To Be You #756

  Quicksand #786

  *Bewitched #847

  *Bothered #855

  *Bewildered #861

  A Groom for Red Riding Hood #893

  Single Dad #931

  Arizona Heat #966

  † The Unwilling Bride #998

  † Bachelor Mom #1046

  JENNIFER GREENE

  lives near Lake Michigan with her husband and two children. Before writing full-time, she worked as a teacher and a personnel manager. Michigan State University honored her as an “outstanding woman graduate” for her work with women on campus.

  Ms. Greene has written more that forty category romances, for which she has won numerous awards, including two RITA Awards for Best Short Contemporary Book, and both a Best Series Author and a Lifetime Achievement Award from Romantic Times.

  Dear Reader,

  I was especially delighted to have Abby included in the That Special Woman! program. She is the third sister in my Stanford Sisters trilogy, and when I conceived these three stories, I was thinking especially of all the new and changing roles for women today. We all seem to be too busy. We all seem to be struggling to find a balance in our lives, between the wonderful traditional roles—like mom and homemaker—and yet also seeking fulfillment in different ways than our mothers and grandmothers had the freedom to try.

  Abby is one of the “strugglers.” She’s tried hard to be a superwoman—to do everything 200%—and when she discovers she is overweighing the role of a career in her life, she’s determined to turn herself into a cookie maker and a pro at homemaking and crafts. The hero figures out long before Abby that she’s not only lovable but “a special woman"—even if she is dangerous near a cookie recipe.

  But that isn’t so easy for Abby to see…like so many of us, she’s trying her best to “do it all.” For all of you who’ve ever struggled to find that right balance in your lives, I wrote Abby for you…and I hope you enjoy the story!

  Demo version limitation

  Chapter Two

  Abby peeked through the window as the Cherokee backed out of her drive and disappeared into the snowy night. Whew. She hadn’t run across many white knights in the corporate world—zero, at last count—but Gar Cameron would have headed the list if she had one. Disheveled glossy black hair. Eyes bluer than sky. The height and build of a football tight end—and he’d had a memorable tight end to go with it. A deep, gentle voice made to soothe a woman, or stir her up—either option being damned pleasant to fantasize about.

  Her racing heartbeat summed it up. He was a hunk. And an extremely successful hunk, which she could have guessed from the way he moved and behaved, even if she hadn’t noticed the logo on his truck. Gar was on top of his world.

  An outstanding reason to obliterate the man from her mind—particularly now.

  Swiftly she locked the door, peeled off her jacket and started switching on lights. This place was going to be her home for the next two months. Any other time, she’d have gotten a tickle out of prowling and exploring. But that would have been before she was fired. Before the word “failure” had become a threatening, frightening, sneaky little dragon that attacked her every damn time she was alone.

  Turning on lights helped. So did finding a cordless phone. Before even heeling off her boots, Abby dialed her youngest sister in Vermont. It was only five in the morning there—a disgraceful time to call anyone—but Paige was usually up really early with the baby. More to the point, Paige would have a stroke, if not a tantrum, if Abby didn’t report in. Both sisters knew she’d made the long drive from Los Angeles to Tahoe alone. Being the oldest, Abby was traditionally the problem-fixer and advice-giver of the trio, but lately…well, nothing had been the same lately. And Paige, for sure, would worry if she didn’t call.

  The phone only rang twice—enough time fo
r Abby to tuck the phone in her ear, start carrying luggage and put on her peppiest, most cheerful voice. “I’m here, I arrived safely, the black-and-white cameo you sent for my birthday is the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen—God, are you talented, sis. And if I woke you up calling this early, I’m gonna kick myself in the keester.”

  Paige’s laughter bubbled out, familiar, warm. “Glad you like the cameo, and of course you didn’t wake me up. Your new niece likes to party at the crack of dawn. In fact, I’m nursing Laurel right now. So the long drive went okay?”

  “No sweat. Just took me a little longer because I ran into a little bit of snow.”

  “What’s the place like?”

  “Well, I’m just walking through it now, but it’s about what I expected. Think I told you, I rented it through a real estate agent. The owner’s a pilot, rents the place out during the ski season…” Still juggling luggage and the phone, Abby peeked in doorways as she talked, delivering a running report to keep her sister entertained.

  “The living room’s turquoise and stone, beamed ceilings, a fireplace flanked by French doors leading onto a deck. I’m really gonna suffer—there’s a high-tech boob tube, stereo equipment, every creature comfort known to man and then some. There’s an office-dining room and a bath downstairs, then the kitchen…It’s got a TV, too, gorgeous appliances, a freezer big enough to hold a cow or two, black glass table. I think my pilot landlord must be a pretty strong party boy, because he’s got more wineglasses than dishes, but what the hey? I could get into some lolling, lazy decadence for a couple of months….”

  “Big talk for a woman who gets giggly on a single glass of sherry,” Paige said dryly.

  “That sounds suspiciously like an insult.”

  “Of course it’s an insult. I’m your sister. And don’t get bogged down insulting me back—I want to hear more details. What’s the rest of the place like? There’s an upstairs?”

  “Yup.” By then, Abby had padded up the teal-carpeted stairs and dropped two pieces of luggage. As soon as she switched on lights, she started reporting again. “One holy-cow bathroom, a square lapis lazuli tub big enough for two, Jacuzzi, phone, music piped in…The next time I call you, trust me, it’s gonna be from that bathroom. In fact, if I ever get in that tub, I may never leave, just have Chinese delivered right here—”

  “Yeah, yeah, what else?”

  “Two bedrooms. One’s locked—that’s where the pilot guy keeps his personal things when he rents the rest of the place out. But then… Sheesh.”

  “What? What!”

  Abby had almost dropped the phone when she flipped on the light switch in the far room. “The master bedroom’s a seducer’s lair,” she said wryly. “Platform bed, one mirrored wall, royal blue carpet, blue satin sheets, fake-fur spread. Eek. We’re talking sybaritic in capital letters. Pretty hard to sleep in here and dream of Bambi. On the other hand, the mattress is hard, and it’s got a fantastic walk-in closet…”

  “Abby?”

  “What?”

  “You’re laughing and talking like normal,” Paige said gently. “How about if we skip the chitchat and cut to the chase. Are you all right?”

  Abby chugged back downstairs and brought up the last suitcase. “Sure, I’m all right. I’m hunky-dory—”

  “And cats fly. When are you really going to tell me what happened with the job and that promotion?”

  Mentally Abby damned all sisters—and hers in particular. She considered herself a good liar. Skilled. Imaginative. Experienced. But fooling a sister was tougher than selling swampland in Montana—not that she was through trying. “I already told you what happened. I didn’t get the promotion,” she said lightly.

  “Yeah. I know what you said. I also know how you were at Christmas, all excited and high as a kite about this big promotion coming up. You go home to L.A., and then suddenly you’re taking off to live in Tahoe for two months. And you want me to believe that everything’s fine?”

  As fast as a machine gun, Abby started opening cases and efficiently pelting clothes away in closets and drawers. “Everything is fine. I just needed a break—”

  “Uh-huh. You either fill in the blanks or I’m gonna sic Gwen on you.”

  The threat of both sisters on her back was enough to upgrade the quality—and speed—of her fibs. Her voice immediately turned cool, calm and soothing. “Honestly, it was nothing more than a disappointment. When the CEO retired, I had a shot at the job. Yeah, I thought I’d earned it. I’d outworked and out performed every guy in the office, brought in twenty million bucks in accounts last year. The only cards stacked against me were that I was young and female. Age didn’t seem that important. In the advertising business, everyone’s young, because it’s such a high-burnout field—”

  “But they gave the job to a man?” Paige asked.

  “Yes. An outsider. Fresh blood. That’s just the way it’s done sometimes. And you’re not in business, but it’s pretty standard procedure for a new broom to sweep out the old chaff—particularly if the old chaff was direct competition for his job. It wasn’t personal. It’s just business. And it’s not like I’ll have any problem getting another job. I’ve got unbeatable references, had four offers almost before I cleared out my desk—”

  “I don’t doubt that, sis.”

  “I just thought some time off would be a good idea. I haven’t taken a real vacation in years. I didn’t know this plum of a place would be available when I called the real estate agent, but it was. And Tahoe’s gorgeous. And I’ve got a ton of money saved. So there was just no reason not to take a little break.”

  “You’re telling me that’s all she wrote,” Paige murmured.

  “Yeah. Everything’s Georgy peachy. Honest.”

  Paige said patiently, “You’re full of horse patooties, sis. But I’ll let you be for now. You have to be exhausted after that long drive, so catch some sleep, and I’ll call you in a couple of days.”

  When the phone connection was severed, the unfamiliar condo echoed with a sudden lonely silence.

  Fired. Failure. The words whispered in her mind, like a shadow waiting to catch up with her, or like an alligator under the bed that only showed up when she turned off the lights and was alone.

  Quicker than a mail clerk, she filed the last of her clothes in drawers and cupboards, thinking that at two in the morning—after a monstrously awful day—she should be more than ready to crash. But then she came across the last item packed in her suitcase. The boxed present Paige had sent for her birthday.

  She sank on the bedspread and opened the box. Her sister was a gifted cameo maker, and the present was a sculpture, oval-shaped, an onyx-and-pearl cameo. The pearl-white profile of a woman was uniquely striking against the black onyx background. Abby set it on the teak bedside table, studying it with a fierce, painful lump in her throat.

  Her youngest sister knew her so well. Maybe like only a sister can know another sister. Her whole life, Abby knew she’d tended to see things in black and white. Because she’d always been driven by ambition, she’d applied 200% of herself in that direction. She was a perfectionist and an achiever and a competent woman.

  Failure had never been built into the picture. It couldn’t happen. She’d never failed at anything.

  But she’d failed now. And the whole rug of her life felt swept out from beneath her. The scary thought kept sneaking into her heart that she’d sold herself a line, that her whole life had somehow, innocently, mistakenly, become a lie.

  She’d lost a job, and she’d told herself a dozen times that it was just a job. But her whole life had been defined by her career. She had the “right” apartment with a closetful of the “right clothes,” and a living room decorated with the “right” colors and styles suited to an upwardly mobile executive. None of that had ever been fake. It was just that everything she made herself into had had the goal of success in her career, and now that she’d failed at that…none of it had any meaning.

  And neither did she. The paraly
zing thought kept flashing through her mind that she’d sold herself a lie. Success had mattered to her so much that she sacrificed her entire personal life to that goal. She couldn’t shake the feelings of failure—as a person, and especially as a woman.

  Abruptly she sighed—loudly—vaulted off the bed and started peeling off her clothes. God knew, it was tempting to beat herself up some more, but it really was late. As much fun as this self-beating-up routine was, it would wait until she’d caught some sleep.

  She dug out a nightgown, switched off the lights and then dived for the depths of the giant platform bed. Unfortunately, the silly satin sheets were not only slippery but colder than ice. Her eyes popped right back open, and instantly she was wide awake again…and as sneaky as bad news, Gar Cameron’s face scooched back into her mind.

  Now there was a man to warm up a girl’s sheets, an enticing fantasy to fall asleep on. Except that the memory clinging in her mind was of her making a fool out of herself, crying in front of a stranger…and her failure to cope with something so basic as a flat tire seemed a painful example of everything that was wrong with her life.

  Well, that was precisely why she was holing up in Tahoe. To give herself time to change.

  Resolve and determination had always been her strong points. Come daylight, she was going to start the process of turning her life around. She was going to change herself. Totally. Completely. 200%.