Page 30 of The Wrong Husband (The Davenports #6)

Connor

“We’re going shoe shopping?” She wrinkles her forehead.

“Don’t misunderstand me. I have a particular affection for those borrowed clogs you wear to work, since they're the reason you fell into my arms the first time we met. But given the number of hours you are on your feet, I’ll feel more comfortable if you're wearing shoes that don't cause you to lose your footing and hurt yourself.”

“Oh.” She considers my words, then nods. “Okay.”

Huh, she’s being unusually compliant. “You’re not fighting me on this?”

“Why should I? I do need new shoes; I just haven’t had the time to buy them.”

This woman never ceases to surprise me.

The shop I’ve picked is in Marylebone. Not one of those soulless chain stores.

This one specializes in custom-fit, orthotic-friendly footwear—stylish but functional.

I’ve already had them pull options based on Phoenix’s height and weight —both of which I estimated—and job demands. Of course, she doesn’t know that yet.

As we arrive, I open the glass door and step aside, so she can walk in first.

She takes in the shoes on display. “You really planned this, huh?”

“I don’t do improvisation. Not where you’re concerned.”

She swivels her head in my direction. The look in her eyes is pleased, and surprised, and something else—something soft.

I do believe I’m wearing her down.

I nod toward the rows of shoe-lined shelves. There’s no loud music. No gimmicky posters. Just comfort, and quiet, and the scent of suede and beeswax polish. The owner, Amaya, gives me a nod. She already knows who we’re here for.

“You must be Phoenix,” she says warmly.

Phoenix throws me a look. “You briefed her?”

“Of course, I did.”

She presses her lips together—maybe to hold back a gasp of surprise? Maybe to stop herself from saying what she’s thinking. Her pulse flutters at her throat, though. That little giveaway I’ve come to recognize. She likes that I see her. That I pay attention to her needs.

Amaya brings out three boxes.

“Specialized shoes with neutral soles. Cushioned arches. Reinforced heel cups. And handmade in Italy.” She beams.

Phoenix sits gingerly on the lounge chair, her eyes wary.

I wave Amaya away, then go down on my knee in front of Phe. I coax her to place her foot on my thigh.

She swallows. “What are you doing?”

I ease the ballet flat she’s wearing today off one foot. When I press my thumb into the ball of her big toe, she sighs. When I massage her heel she groans. “That feels so good.”

She works twelve-hour shifts, holds dying men’s hands, saves children in cardiac arrest… She’s so busy saving others, she has no time to save herself.

That’s where I come in.

“Whoa.” She sinks back in her seat. “That feels incredible.”

I slip off one ballet pump then the other. I pull at her toes, massage the balls of her feet.

By the time I finish, she’s sprawled in the seat, head lolling. “Anytime you want a second career as a masseuse, I guarantee, you’ll have a long line of people queuing up for your services.”

“I’m afraid my services are reserved.”

“Oh?” she asks, interested. “For whom?”

“For the woman who deserves the best in everything.”

She flushes. “Laying it on a little thick, aren’t you?”

“It’s the truth.” I pull on her socks, then ease the new shoes onto her feet—black leather with a molded sole, discreet enough to pass with her ER uniform, yet solid enough to carry her through hell and back.

She stands. Walks a few steps. Pauses in front of a mirror.

“Oh, wow.” Her voice barely raises above a whisper.

“They feel good?”

“It’s like—like the ground isn’t punching back anymore.”

I chuckle.

She looks at her reflection with shining eyes. “And for the first time, I don’t have to cringe when I look at my feet.” She bursts out laughing.

I start to laugh with her, but my throat tightens unexpectedly.

To see the delight in her eyes. To hear the lightness in her tone, that slight giddiness in her laugh, is the most incredible sensation in the world.

More satisfying than all the biotech discoveries I led my team in.

More fulfilling than the completion of any mission.

I have to look away to rein in my emotions.

This… Feeling so moved, so exhilarated at fulfilling the needs of someone else is unfamiliar.

I swallow hard. “Try on the others.”

Her gaze snaps to mine. “I don’t need more than one pair.”

I lean in, my voice dropping. “You take care of everyone else. Let someone else take care of you, for once.”

She’s quiet for a beat. Then she shakes her head. “You’re intense, you know that?”

“ Only about you.”

And it’s the truth. I would tear down every store in London if it meant she’d walk a little easier. Sleep a little deeper. Smile a little more.

She turns away, blinking fast. But not before I see the softness stealing into her expression. That unguarded warmth I crave more than oxygen.

And just like that, I know.

This woman is going to ruin me.

And I’ll thank her for it.

Whatever she reads in my eyes has her giving in. She tries on and finally settles on three pairs.

I pay for the purchases. We walk out, me holding the packages. We get into the car, and before I can touch the start button my phone vibrates. I frown at the message.

“Everything okay?”

I begin to nod, then stop. “It’s from the CEO of Save the Kids.”

“That’s the charity you want to fund?"

I nod. "Did a stint with them during my gap year, before I joined university, before I went undercover.

And what I saw changed me forever. I know it's a cliché, but truly, children are our future. They’re innocent of wrongdoings but pay the highest price for the faults of us adults.

I knew then, I could use the resources at my disposal to help them.

" I type out a reply to the message. “Their situation is getting more urgent. They’re going to run out of money, unless I arrange for a cash infusion in the next month.” I rub the back of my neck.

In the silence that follows, I look up and notice the contrition on her face. Uh-oh. “I didn’t mention that to make you feel bad.” I set my phone aside.

“I know, you didn’t.”

“And I know, I brought it up as a reason for you to marry me, but you shouldn’t let it influence you.”

“I don’t understand you.” She furrows her eyebrows.

“First, you propose a marriage of convenience to meet both our needs. Now, you tell me I shouldn’t let it act as a motivator.

Even though, if I marry you, you’ll get access to your trust fund, and you plan to use it to improve the lives of children who desperately need help.

Not to mention, it would save the jobs of so many of my colleagues who can’t afford to miss a single monthly paycheck. ”

I drum my fingers on the steering wheel. “I don’t want you to feel pressured into marrying me.”

She shakes her head. “A little too late for that. I have the fates of these kids hanging on my conscience.”

I turn to her. “I’m sorry to have put you in this position; I truly am.”

“And now, you know exactly what to say to make me feel even worse.” She throws up her hands.

“Not only are you sexy, and charming, and rich, but you’ve paid close attention to my needs.

So even though I’m upset that you followed me, I can’t stay upset, because you’re using the knowledge in a way that makes me feel appreciated.

I should be pissed off that you tried to negotiate a marriage with me, but it turns out, you want to use the money it unlocks for a good cause.

” She scowls at me. “Also, you don’t hesitate to apologize when you’re wrong. "

“And that’s bad?” I ask slowly.

“Very bad. Because it makes you…” She points a finger at me. “It makes you incorrigible and irresistible.”

My heart swells in my chest. A warmth courses through my veins.

I feel like I’ve won a major battle… One I didn’t realize I was fighting.

I thought I’d been trying to woo her, but really, I was trying to show her that I'm good enough for her. That she needs me in her life. That she can trust me. That I am the one for her. And while my actions were aimed at making life easier for her, I’m selfish enough to hope it’s made a difference in how she’s coming to view my marriage proposal.

“If I could go back and change what I said, I would.”

She tilts her head, a curious expression on her face.

“I’d do the wooing first and bring up the marriage proposal later.” I purse my lips. “Except?—”

“—except time’s running out. You need to access your trust fund, and I need to find a way to save the ER.”

“I wish it weren’t so, but you’re right.”

My phone vibrates with another message.

I growl in annoyance. The entire world seems to need to reach me today. At this moment. When I’m spending time with the most important person in my life.

I don’t look at the device.

It vibrates again.

“Maybe you should get it,” she says softly.

“I’d much rather keep my eyes on your face.”

She bites her lip, trying to stifle a smile. And damn, I’m chuffed that I made her feel good again.

My phone vibrates a third time.

I sigh.

“You really should get that.” She reaches for the phone and hands it over to me without looking at the screen.

I take in the message, then wish I hadn’t.

“Bad news?”

“Depends how you look at it.” I look up at her. “How do you feel about meeting the family?”

Her gaze widens. “Your family?’

“That was Arthur, my grandfather. He’s reminding me I’m expected at lunch for our weekly family get together.” One I’d hope to miss . But Arthur’s tone makes it clear I can’t skip out on this.

"It’s a family event. Why do you want me there?”

"Because”—I hold her gaze—“I want them to meet you."

Panic wells in her eyes. “I… I’m not sure that’s wise.”

“I think they’ll love you,” I say honestly.

“I’m not ready for this.”

I allow my expression to turn pleading. “In all honesty, these weekly meetings are a torture. My grandfather can be rather presumptuous. And he won’t take no for an answer. If I have you by my side, it might make the entire thing more bearable.”

She scowls. “That’s not fair. You know I can’t say no to you, not after you’ve been so nice to me.”

“I could drop you back home if that’s what you want?”

A haunted look comes into her eyes. “I don’t want to go home yet.”

“So, you’ll come with me?”