Page 3 of The Rancher Married the Wrong Sister (Billionaires of Evergreen, Texas #13)

ALL OF THE NURSES AT Stanhope Medical Center's surgical department started nudging each other behind the counter as soon as the elevator doors opened, and out came a tall, dazzlingly handsome man with dark blond hair and jade-green eyes.

He had 'billionaire' written all over him, but at the same time, there was also something intensely sexual about the newcomer's presence. It was almost primitive even, and when the nurses thought about how such a man was now married to their beloved Cha-Cha...

Philippe masked his puzzlement as the nurses at the station followed his every move with unusual interest. While he was no stranger to attention, neither was he some world-famous athlete or celebrity.

His name was only familiar to those who followed society gossip and business news, and since he strongly doubted the nurses here fell in either category, Philippe could only surmise that all of these stares had to do with one Charlee-Mae Carmichaels.

Who knew a former beauty queen with a YouTube channel could be this popular?

The nurses nearly swooned when the man finally came up to their counter in order to ask for the room number of his wife, and it was then they found out that Cha-Cha's impossibly gorgeous husband also happened to possess the sexiest French accent.

"Ms. Carmichaels—-I mean, Mrs. DeRose—-" Head Nurse Jennifer, who was usually teased for being schoolmarmish, was flustered to find herself stumbling over her words. "Your, um, wife, sir, is in Room 1408, the last door on the left."

"Thank you." As soon as Philippe turned away, he was disconcerted to hear some of the nurses actually squeal, but in the next moment he had dismissed the incident from his mind, having never been interested in gaining fame.

Right now, there were a lot more pressing concerns that deserved his attention, foremost of which was the woman Philippe had come to visit...and whom he still had trouble thinking of as his "wife".

Although both of them moved in the same social circles, their paths had never crossed before this, and her name hadn't rung a bell when he saw it on their wedding documents.

He could have looked her up at any point in time after that, but he never had. As far as Philippe was concerned, theirs was a business arrangement, and as long as his thirty-something bride from Texas wasn't entirely hideous to look at, her appearance was inconsequential.

All he had asked of Charlotte was that his temporary bride be the kind of woman his mother was most likely to approve of, and now that he was finally seeing his new "wife" in person—-

What the hell had he gotten himself into?

The woman in bed looked like someone who had jumped out of a fifties pinup, and try as he might, he could not see why the supposedly intuitive CEO of Heart's Match, whom Fleur de Konigh had sung praises of, would think that a woman with such overt sensuality could be an ideal daughter-in-law for his ultra-conservative mother.

Charlee-Mae started to stir as he crossed the room, and by the time Philippe came to stand next to her bed, his "wife" was already wide awake and watching him with amber-colored eyes filled with undisguised curiosity.

She pushed herself up gingerly, and he automatically reached down to help her even as he expected her to shrink from his touch.

But she didn't.

And it was how Philippe's disconcertment deepened into acute discomfort, with the way Charlee-Mae proved completely unresisting to his assistance.

The way her amber eyes gobbled him up made him feel strangely restless, and as he adjusted the mountain of pillows behind her back, his fingers accidentally brushed over the back of her neck—-

Putain.

Her warm, satin-smooth skin almost felt sinful to touch, and he had a sudden and almost violent need to place as much distance as possible between them.

It was as if a part of him recognized in her a destructive force that had the power to turn his entire world upside-down, and only pride alone kept him from getting the fuck out of her room.

Philippe gritted his teeth as he forced himself to move back at a careful and unhurried pace, all the while feeling Charlee-Mae continue to eat him up with unabashed curiosity.

Fair's fair, Philippe thought, and so as soon as his dark gaze collided with hers, he indulged himself with his own scrutiny of her appearance.

Her long blonde locks were a wild, curly mess around her heart-shaped face, and aside from the layers of bandages wrapped around her head, another visible sign of her injury was the multitude of small but vividly red gashes that marred her from head to toe.

None of these things, however, was enough to detract from the kittenish appeal of her looks.

..which Philippe was disturbed to find himself powerfully attracted to.

Merde.

"Hello."

Her voice was...sweet . It was the only word he could think of.

Not thick, dark, and heavy like syrup, but more sweet like honey, which was as wholesome as it was addictive.

A woman's voice was something he had never paid attention to, so why then , Philippe wondered irritably, was her voice suddenly different?

Why did hers sound so fuckable, even when all she had said was a simple bloody hello?

He could see that she was waiting for him to answer, and while the thought of engaging in small talk struck him as distastefully artificial, years of etiquette training were impossible to ignore.

But just as he was about to force himself to say 'hello' in return, it was then Philippe noticed her wide-eyed gaze flicking back and forth between their hands.

It took him a moment to realize she was comparing their wedding rings, and since she was the one who had chosen its design in the first place—-

"Is there a problem?" he asked politely. She would not be the first woman to have fickle taste in jewelry, and in some cases, it only turned out to be a woman's ploy to gain herself more jewelry.

His question appeared to make her nervous for some reason, and when he noticed the way her chest started to swiftly rise and fall under her hospital gown, Philippe just as swiftly tried to forget what he had seen.

His new "wife" - Mon Dieu, would he ever get used to calling her that? - might have the breasts of a blonde bombshell, but now was also the least appropriate time to indulge in such thoughts.

"I know this is going to sound silly—-"

Philippe frowned at the way her fingers started interlocking and unlocking over her lap.

"But I just want to be sure—-"

"Qu'est-ce que c'est?" What is it?

"Are you my husband?"

Fifteen minutes later, and Philippe had his worst fears confirmed in the private office of Dr. Konstantin Manolis . He had known the other man for years, and it was in light of his friendship with the Greek neurosurgeon that Philippe wasn't even thinking of getting a second opinion.

If Konstantin believed Charlee-Mae suffered from amnesia, then that was what it was, but what he did have a hard time accepting was what his new "wife" had no memories of.

"The E.R. had to sedate her when she first came in," Konstantin relayed, "since she started panicking and insisting that they had it wrong, and she wasn't married."

"I see."

"I took charge of her case when I found out she was your wife. We spoke briefly earlier, and from what I can tell, there is nothing your wife can recall from the past two weeks."

And now, Philippe did see why his new "wife" had forgotten him, since it was also only two weeks ago that they had become a part of each other's lives, contractually speaking.

"For now, my only advice is to make sure she has lots of rest. While it's not necessary, it's best to keep her here until we at least get the stitches out. It's always better to err on the side of caution with head wounds like hers."

"I'll defer to your expertise then." An image of Charlee-Mae suddenly intruded in his mind, and Philippe found himself trying to imagine what it would be like to wake up with two weeks of his life suddenly missing.

It would be hell for someone like him, and the realization made him feel. ..concerned.

And that was normal , Philippe told himself. His conscience wasn't completely dead, and for as long as she was his "wife", he also had a duty to take care of her.

Looking back at Konstantin, he asked, "Is there anything else I can do to make things easier for her?"

"Don't let anything upset her," was his friend's blunt reply. "Situations like this are extremely tricky, and it's imperative that your wife refrains from forcing herself to recall her memories. Placing herself under unnecessary mental stress will only make things worse."

The nurses still on duty started elbowing each other again when they saw the Frenchman and the broodingly handsome Dr. Manolis step out of the latter's office.

Thanks to their resident Google expert Nurse Mindy, they now knew that Philippe DeRose, aside from being the billionaire they had correctly assumed him to be, also possessed the reputation of a tough negotiator in the boardroom and a jet-setting playboy outside it.

But because they also knew from Cha-Cha's vlogs that their favorite former beauty was silly and kind-hearted, carefree and incredibly down-to-earth in spite of her privileged upbringing—-

No two persons could be any more different than Cha-Cha and her husband, and it became even harder to imagine how the couple had fallen in love when the nurses overheard Dr. Manolis and the French billionaire conversing entirely in French.

Oh dear .