Page 49 of The Work Wife

He smiled and then leaned down, softly touching his lips to hers. He was pulling away when her father grumbled, “That’s not a real kiss. Knock her socks off, son.”

She laughed, but Weston took her father’s request seriously.

He wrapped his arms around her and bent her backward as his mouth sealed over hers in what could only be described as a kiss that knocked her socks off. Or would have had she been wearing socks.

When he’d thoroughly finished he set her back on her feet and winked at her while her father applauded his efforts.

* * * *

Wes couldn’t help the smug smile on his face as he walked out of the church with his wife. Even after fifteen minutes of photos, she still looked shocked senseless from his kiss.

He almost hated to be leaving the next day. It might have been nice to have someone around to prompt him to kiss her again.

When they got to the car, she pulled him aside. Her father was still talking to the pastor, and Wes wondered what she’d have to say about his gesture.

“I’m going to make you dinner every night for a month,” she promised.

“As long as it’s not pancakes.”

“They weren’t that bad.”

“I had a large glob of dry mix in mine. It was like biting into a ball of sand.”

He thought she’d laugh or fake punch him in the ribs. Instead she leaned up and wrapped her arms around him. She hugged him so tight he had no choice but wind his arms around her waist and hug her back. He allowed himself to settle in and enjoy the contact. It felt nice to be held so tightly.

“You don’t know how much this means to my dad. And to me. You’re amazing, Wes. I mean it. You’re the best husband ever. Fake or otherwise.”

He didn’t feel smug now. He felt . . . uncomfortable. He wasn’t a hero. Her father said he wished he would have been able to walk his daughter down the aisle, and Wes could make that happen. He could correct one of the many wrongs they’d done by sneaking off to get married.

At the restaurant, Mr. Witmer took it upon himself to tell everyone they passed that his daughter had just gotten married. They were congratulated and toasted by half the restaurant.

Jamie laughed and hugged her father. Weston watched the exchange as Mr. Witmer’s eyes closed, no doubt basking in the moment. Then before he let her go, his gaze locked with Weston’s and he mouthed the words thank you over his daughter’s head.

Wes wasn’t a hero, but the look on Chris Witmer’s face said Wes had just saved his world.

* * * *

Anna Stewart felt the tension move through the office and looked up from her desk. In the seven years she’d worked for Archer Worldwide, she’d been subjected to Mrs. Archer many times. As wife to the former owner and mother to the current one, she was a constant presence. But Anna doubted the woman even knew her name.

Mrs. Archer—aka the wicked witch of the Upper West Side—had just gotten off the elevator. Anna hated this woman, not just because she was rude and snobby to a lowlife like her son’s executive assistant, but because she was demeaning and hurtful to Ben.

The last time she’d been in the office, she’d yelled at him for almost an hour and he’d second-guessed himself for a week afterward.

Anna had to do something. Quick.

Pulling her cell phone out of her bag, she dialed the number to his office. Then answered the desk phone and patched the call through.

He sounded exhausted when he answered.

“You have a conference call.”

“When?”

“Right now. I’m going to patch it through. Stay on the phone, even if they don’t answer.”

“I didn’t know I had a—”

She transferred the call at the same time Mrs. Archer waltzed up to his door.