Chapter Two
Nick glanced around, satisfied with the result. His private conference room provided a business atmosphere, and the bouquet of fresh flowers his secretary had placed in the center of the table offered a personal touch amongst the plush wine carpeting, the rich gleam of cherry wood, and buttery leather chairs. The contracts were neatly laid out, along with an elegant silver tray filled with tea, coffee, and a variety of pastries. Formal, yet friendly—which would reflect the tone of their marriage.
He ignored the pitch deep in his gut when he thought of encountering Alexandria McKenzie again. He wondered how she’d grown. The stories his sister shared with him painted a picture of a reckless, impulsive woman. He initially balked at Maggie’s suggestion—Alexa didn’t fit the image he needed. Stubborn memories of a free-spirited kid with a ponytail bobbing teased his thoughts, even though he knew she owned a respectable bookstore. He still thought of her as Maggie’s playmate, even though he hadn’t seen her in years.
But time was running out.
They shared a distant past, and he sensed Alexa could be trusted. She may not fit his idea of the perfect wife, but she needed money. Fast. Maggie remained silent regarding the reason, but painted Alexa as desperate. A need for cash he was comfortable with—it was black and white. No gray areas. No ideas of intimacy between them. A formal business transaction between old friends. Nick could live with that.
He reached for the intercom to buzz his secretary, but the heavy door smoothly swung open at the same time and closed with a solid click.
He turned.
Deep blue eyes cut straight to his with little hesitation and a clearness that told him this woman would lose any poker game—she was brutally honest and unwilling to bluff. He recognized her gaze well enough, but age had changed the colors to a disturbing mix of aquamarine and sapphire. Certain images came to mind—plumbing the depths of the Caribbean Sea in search of its mysteries. A canvas of Sinatra’s umbrella skies stretched so far and wide a man couldn’t find the beginning or end.
Her eyes were startling against the inky black of her hair, which consisted of corkscrew curls that tumbled past her shoulders and framed her face with a natural wildness she seemed unable to tame. High cheekbones set off a lush mouth. He used to ask her if she’d been stung by a bee, then crack up laughing. The joke was on him. Hot male fantasies were built around a mouth like hers—and it had nothing to do with bees. Just honey. Preferably warm, sticky honey poured over those plump lips and slowly licked off.
Ah, hell.
He reigned himself in and finished his inspection. He remembered torturing her when he found out she had to wear a bra. An early developer, she’d been mortified by his discovery, and he’d used the information wisely. Now, it wasn’t funny anymore. Her breasts were as lush as her mouth, and matched the curve of her hips. She was tall, almost as tall as he, and this package of female temptation came all wrapped up in a fiery red tank dress that emphasized her cleavage, skimmed over her hips, and fell to the floor. Scarlet toenails peeked through shiny red sandals. She remained still in the doorway, as if allowing him to drink his fill before she decided to speak.
Feeling somewhat staggered, Nick fought past his discomposure and relied on professionalism to hide his reaction. Alexandria Maria McKenzie had grown up well. A little too well for his taste. But there was no need to let her know.
He offered her the same neutral smile he’d offer any business associate. “Hello, Alexa. It’s been a long time.”
She smiled back but it didn’t reach her eyes. She shifted her feet and fisted her hands. “Hello, Nick. How are you?”
“Fine. Please sit down. Can I pour you coffee? Tea?”
“Coffee, please.”
“Cream? Sugar?”
“Cream. Thank you.” She slid gracefully into the cushioned chair, swiveled away from the desk, and crossed her legs. The slinky red material crept up and gave him a glimpse of olive skin, smooth and athletic.
He concentrated on the coffee. “Napoleon? Apple fritter? They’re from the bakery across the street.”
“No, thank you.”
“Sure?”
“Yes. I’d never be able to stop at one. I’ve learned not to tempt myself. “
The word tempt fell from her lips in a low, smoky voice that stroked his ears. His pants tightened a notch and he realized her voice stroked other places as well. Completely disconcerted by his reaction to a woman he wanted no physical contact with, he focused on preparing her coffee and sat across from her.
They studied each other for a few moments and the silence lengthened. She plucked at the delicate gold bracelet encircling her wrist. “I’m sorry about your Uncle Earl.”
“Thank you. Did Maggie fill you in on the details?”
“The whole thing sounds crazy.”
“It is. Uncle Earl believed in family, and before he died he was convinced I’d never settle down. Therefore, he decided a strong push would be for my own good.”
“You don’t believe in marriage?”
He shrugged. “Marriage is unnecessary. The dream of forever is a fairy tale. White knights and monogamy don’t exist.”
She drew back in surprise. “You don’t believe in making a commitment to another person?”
“Commitments are short-lived. Sure, people mean it when they confess love and devotion, but time erodes all the good stuff and leaves the bad. Do you know anyone who is happily married?”
She parted her lips, then lapsed into silence. “Besides my parents? I guess not. But that doesn’t mean there aren’t happy couples.”
“Maybe.” His tone contradicted his partial agreement.
“I guess there are a lot of issues we don’t agree upon,” she said, and shifted in her seat then re-crossed her legs. “We’ll need some time together to see if this thing will work.”
“We have no time. The wedding has to take place by the end of next week. It doesn’t matter if we get along. This is strictly a business arrangement.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I see you’re the same overbearing bully who teased me about my chest size. Some things don’t change.”
He focused his attention on the dip of her dress. “I guess you’re right. Some things remain the same. Others keep expanding.”
Her breath caught at the jab, but she surprised him when she smiled. “And other things remain small.” Her pointed stare settled directly on the bulge in the center of his pants.
Nick almost sputtered in his coffee but managed to set the cup down with calm dignity. A rush of heat punched his gut as he remembered the day in the pool when they were kids.
He had been teasing Alexa mercilessly about the changes in her body when Maggie snuck up behind him and yanked down his swim trunks. Exposed in all senses of the word, he’d stalked away and pretended the whole episode didn’t bother him. But the memory still ranked as his most embarrassing moment.
He motioned to the papers in front of her. “Maggie told me you needed a specific amount of money. I kept the figure open for negotiation.”
An odd expression crossed her face. Her features tightened, then smoothed back out. “Is this the contract?”
He nodded. “I know you’ll need your lawyer to look it over.”
“No need. A friend of mine is a lawyer. I learned enough, since I helped him study for the bar exam. May I see it?”
He slid the papers over the polished wood. She reached in her purse for a pair of small, black reading glasses and pushed them up the bridge of her nose. Minutes passed as she studied the contract. He took the opportunity to study her. His strong attraction irritated him. Alexa wasn’t his type. She was too curvy, too direct, too… real. He liked to know he was safe from any emotional outbursts if something didn’t go her way. Even when Gabby became upset, she always handled herself with restraint. Alexa scared the hell out of him. Something in his gut whispered she wouldn’t be easy to handle. She spoke her opinion and exhibited emotions without thought. Such reactions caused danger and havoc and messiness. The last thing he needed in a marriage.
Yet…
He trusted her. Those sapphire eyes bespoke a certain determination and fairness. Her promise meant something. After a year, he knew she’d walk away without a glance backward or a desire for more money. The scale tipped in her favor.
One cherry red fingernail tapped the edge of the page in a steady rhythm. She looked up. Nick wondered why her skin took on such a pale tone when she’d seemed so flushed and healthy a moment ago.
“You have a list of requirements?” She said it as if she were accusing him of a capital crime instead of making a list of assets and liabilities.
He cleared his throat. “Just a few qualities I’d like my wife to have.” She opened her mouth to speak but no words emerged. She seemed to struggle to get them free.
“You want a hostess, an orphan, and a robot all rolled into one. Is that fair?”
He took a deep breath. “You’re exaggerating. Just because I’d like to marry someone with grace and business sense, doesn’t mean I’m a monster.”
She gave an unladylike snort. “You want a Stepford wife without the sex. Haven’t you learned anything about women since you were fourteen?”
“I learned plenty. That’s why Uncle Earl had to force me into an institution that favors women in the first place.”
She gasped. “Men get plenty out of marriage!”
“Like what?”
“Steady sex and companionship.”
“After six months the headaches start and you bore each other to tears.”
“Someone to grow old with.”
“Men never want to grow old. That’s why they keep seeking out younger women.”
Her mouth dropped open. She closed it with one quick snap. “Children… a family… someone who will love you in sickness and health.”
“Someone who spends all your money and nags you every night and bitches about cleaning up your mess.”
“You’re sick.”
“You’re deluded.”
She shook her head, causing her silky black curls to lift around her face, then slowly settle. The flush was back in her skin. “God, your parents really screwed you up,” she muttered.
“Thank you, Freud.”
“What if I don’t fit in all these categories?”
“We’ll work on it.”
Her eyes narrowed and she bit her lower lip. Nick flashed back to the first time he kissed her, when he was sixteen. How his mouth had pressed against hers, feeling her tremble. His fingers lightly caressing the bare skin of her shoulders. The fresh, clean scent of flowers and soap teasing his nostrils. Afterward, her features shone with innocence, beauty, purity. Waiting for the happy-ever-after part.
Then she had smiled and told him she loved him. Wanted to marry him. He should have patted her on the head, said something nice, and gone on his way. Instead, her marriage remark had been sweet and tempting in a way that had scared the crap out of him. Even at sixteen, Nick knew no relationship could ever be beautiful—they all eventually turned ugly. He’d laughed, called her a baby, and left her alone in the woods. The vulnerability and hurt in her face had tore at his heart, but he’d hardened himself to the emotion. The earlier she learned, the better.
Nick had made sure they both learned tough lessons that day.
He shook off the memory and concentrated on the present. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re looking for in this marriage?”
“One hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Cash. Up front and not at the end of the year.”
He leaned closer to her, intrigued. “Hell of a lot of money. Gambling debts?”
An invisible wall slammed between them. “No.”
“Shopping spree?”
Temper flared in her eyes. “None of your business. Part of the deal is that you ask me no questions about the money or how I intend to use it.”
“Hmmm, anything else?”
“Where do we live?”
“My home.”
“I’m not giving up my apartment. I’ll pay the rent as usual.”
Surprise shot through him. “As my wife, you’ll need a proper wardrobe. You’ll get an allowance and have access to my personal shopper.”
“I’ll wear what I want, when I want, and pay my own damn way.”
He fought back a smile. He almost enjoyed the match of minds, just like he had in the old days. “You’ll play hostess to my business associates. I have a huge deal on the line, so you have to make nice with the other wives.”
“I can manage to keep my elbows off the table and laugh at their stupid jokes. But I need to be free to run my own business and enjoy my own social life.”
“Of course. I expect you to carry on your individual lifestyle.”
“As long as I don’t embarrass you?”
“Exactly.”
She tapped her toe in rhythm to her fingernails. “I’ve got some problems with this list.”
“I’m a flexible person.”
“I’m very close to my family and they’ll need a good reason to believe I’m suddenly getting married.”
“Just tell them we ran into each other after all these years and decided to marry.”
Alexa rolled her eyes. “They’re not allowed to know about this arrangement, so they need to believe we’re madly in love. You’ll have to come to dinner so we can make the announcement. And it needs to be convincing.”
He remembered that her father had left them for the bottle and abandoned her family. “You still speak with your father?”
“Yes.”
“You used to hate him.”
“He made amends. I chose to forgive. Anyway, my brother and sister-in-law and niece and the twins all live with my parents. They’ll ask a million questions and you have to be convincing.”
He frowned. “I don’t like complications.”
“Tough luck. That’s part of the deal.”
Nick figured he’d give her the small victory. “Fine. Anything else?”
“Yeah. I get a real wedding.”
His eyes narrowed. “I was thinking justice of the peace.”
“I was thinking a white dress outside with my family in attendance and Maggie as maid of honor.”
“I don’t like weddings.”
“So you’ve said. My family will never believe I eloped. We have to do this for them.”
“I’m marrying you for business reasons, Alexa. Not your family.”
Her chin tilted up. He made a mental note of the gesture. Seemed like a warning before she charged into battle. “Believe me, I’m not happy about this either, but we have to play the part if people are going to think this is real.”
His features tightened but he managed a nod. “Fine.” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “Anything else?”
She looked a bit nervous as she shot him a glance, then rose from the chair and began pacing the room. His focus switched to her perfect rear end, swinging back and forth, and his zipper strained in discomfort.
His last fleeting rational thought skipped past his vision. Cut your losses here and now and walk out the door. This woman is going to turn your life upside down, diagonal and sideways, and you’ve always hated the fun house.
Nick fought the sudden surge of fear and waited for her answer.
Ah, hell.
Why did he have to be so damned gorgeous?
She snuck a glance at him as she paced. A vulgar curse rose to her lips but she forced it back down. Growing up, she used to sneer and call him Pretty Boy because of his golden hair. Those youthful curls had been tamed into a short, conservative cut, but some unruly strands fell across his brow in stubborn rebellion. The colors had deepened with time, but reminded her of Chex mix cereal, ranging from honey blond to wheat. His features had hardened—his jaw now slightly chiseled. Perfect white teeth flashed at her during that brief smile. His eyes were the same deep chestnut, and veiled secrets kept firmly locked behind a wall. But his body…
He’d always been active, but when he crossed the room the elegant fabric of his oatmeal colored pants moved and bent to his will, outlining long muscular legs and taut buttocks. The V-necked tan sweater was both casual and appropriate for the office on a Saturday.
Some parts were totally inappropriate. The corded length of his arms. The broad shoulders and chest that stretched and molded the fabric. The deep bronze of his skin as if he had been lying in the sun for hours. The animal litheness of his movements. He had grown up, and he was no pretty boy. Nick Ryan was all hot-blooded man—and still looked at her as Maggie’s little playmate. When their eyes locked, there was no recognition, no appreciation. Just a distant friendliness afforded to someone from his past.
Well, she’d be damned if she let her tongue loll out of her mouth just because he was attractive. His personality still sucked. The big B for Boring. The big D for Dull. The big…
She pushed that thought out of her mind.
Alexa hated the fact that his presence made her nervous and a bit giddy. One week ago, she’d cast a love spell, and Earth Mother had listened. She had her money and could save her family’s home. But what the hell had happened to her list?
The man before her struck out on everything she believed in. This was no love match. No, this was business, pure and simple, and so very cold. While her memory of their first kiss dragged from the recess of her mind, she bet he’d forgotten the moment completely. Humiliation wriggled through her. No more. Would Earth Mother really not allow her the number one requirement on her list? She took a deep breath and spoke. “One other thing.”
“Yes?” he asked.
“Do you watch baseball?”
“Of course.”
Her stomach pitched with tension. “Do you have a favorite team?”
He smirked. Literally smirked. “There’s only one New York team.”
Alexa fought past the nausea and asked the question. “Which one?”
“The Yankees, of course. It’s the only team that wins. It’s the only team that matters.”
She took deep belly breaths, which she’d learned in yoga class. Could she marry a Yankees fan? Would she be giving up all her morals and ethics? Could she stand being married to a man who made logic his God and thought monogamy was a female thing?
“Alexa? Are you okay?”
She silenced him with one hand and paced, searching desperately for answers. If she walked out now, there was no other option but to sell the house. Could she live with herself, knowing she was too selfish to make a sacrifice for her family? Did she have a choice?
“Alexa?”
She spun on one heel. Impatience carved the lines of his face. This man had no tolerance for any emotional outbursts. As hot as he looked, he’d be one major pain in the ass, just as he had been growing up. He probably scheduled his days by the minute. He probably didn’t know what the word impulsive meant. Could they make a year of living in the same house? Would they rip each other apart before 365 days passed? And what if the Yankees went to the World Series this year? She’d have to deal with his lousy arrogance and patronizing smiles. Oh God…
He crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Don’t tell me. You’re a Mets fan.”
She shuddered at his tone. “I refuse to talk baseball with you. You will not wear any of your Yankees gear when you’re with me. I don’t care what you put on when I’m not around. Understand?”
Silence settled over the room. She risked a glance in his direction. He stared at her as if her hair had sprouted Medusa snakes. “Are you kidding me?”
She shook her head with gusto. “No.”
“I’m not even allowed to wear my Yankees cap?”
“That’s right.”
“You’re insane,” he said.
“Sticks and stones. Tell me now before we waste any more time.”
Then he did something she hadn’t seen since the neighborhood bully fell off his bike and burst into silly feminine tears.
Nick Ryan laughed. Not a glimmer of amusement, or a smirk around the lips. This was a no-holds belly laugh, deep and masculine. The sound filled the room and pumped it with life. Alexa fought back her own smile, especially since his humor was directed at her. Damn, he looked good when he got off his high horse.
He finally calmed, seemed to think the option over, and settled on a solution. “I won’t wear any Yankees gear, but the same applies to you. No Mets junk. I don’t even want to see a coffee mug or key chain lying around my house. Got it?”
She simmered with annoyance. Somehow, the deal had been turned around on her. “I disagree. We haven’t won a Series since 1986, so I get to wear mine. You get enough glory—you don’t need any more.”
The corner of his lip twitched. “Nice try, but I’m not one of the Twinkies you’re used to dating. No Yankees, no Mets. Take it or leave it.”
“I don’t date Twinkies!”
He shrugged. “I don’t care.”
She hopped from one foot to the other and barely managed to keep her hands from curling into fists. He was so damn detached. How could he look so tasty, yet remind her of the poison apple Snow White was offered?
“Well? Do you want to sleep on it or whatever women do when they can’t make a decision?”
She bit her lip, hard, and forced out the words. “Fine. You have a deal.”
“Anything else?”
“I guess that covers it.”
“Not quite.” He paused as if about to approach a delicate topic. Alexa swore she’d remain calm, no matter what he said. Two could play this game. She’d be an ice queen, even if he verbally tortured her. She took a breath and slid back into the chair, then picked up her coffee cup to sip at the brew.
He steepled his fingers and took a breath. “I want to talk to you about sex.”
“Sex?” The word dropped from her lips and fired into the air like a gunshot. She blinked, but refused to show any change in expression.
He jumped from his seat and they switched places, as he paced the luxurious burgundy carpet. “See, we need to be extremely discreet with, uh, our extracurricular activities.”
“Discreet?”
“Yes. I deal with some very high-end clients, and I have a reputation to protect. Let alone the terms of the agreement would be broken if our marriage was questioned. I think it best if you agreed to remain celibate for the year. It’s doable, don’t you think?”
“Or a lot of non-doing.”
He gave an obvious fake laugh and she wondered if she caught a gleam of sweat on his forehead or if it was just a trick of the light. He stopped pacing and watched her almost warily. Suddenly, the true meaning of his words caught fire in her brain and the lightning rod of knowledge sizzled. Nick wanted her to be the perfect wife, which included holding a chaste marriage bed under their ruse.
But he hadn’t mentioned his own celibacy. Maggie had spilled all the details about Gabriella, so she knew Nick was involved in a relationship. Alexa still didn’t understand why he wouldn’t marry his girlfriend, but his choice wasn’t for her to judge. All she cared about was the chauvinistic, male pig before her and her desire to call the whole deal off.
Almost.
She shook with anger but kept her face serene. Nick Ryan wanted to cut deals. Fine. Because when she walked out this door, Nicky would sign the deal of a lifetime.
She smiled. “I understand.”
His face practically lit up. “You do?”
“Of course. If the marriage is supposed to be real, how would it look to find your wife the gossip of an affair so soon after the wedding?”
“Exactly.”
“And you shouldn’t have to deal with humiliating questions regarding your manhood. If your wife is sleeping around, it’s obvious what the problem is. She wasn’t getting it good enough at home.”
He shifted his weight. His nod was half-hearted. “I guess.”
“So, what about Gabriella?”
He drew back in surprise. “How do you know about her?”
“Maggie.”
“Don’t worry about Gabriella. I’ll take care of her.”
“Are you sleeping with her?”
He flinched, then tried to pretend he didn’t care. “Does it matter?”
She lifted her hands in defense. “I want to clarify the sex issue. At least I’ve filled the number one and two spot. I sure as hell don’t love you, and we’re not attracted to one another. You’re saying if I want to have a rollicking one night stand, I can’t go for it. So, what are the rules for you?”
Alexa pursed her lips and wondered how the man intended to get himself out of his freshly dug grave.
Nick stared at the woman before him and tried to swallow. Her smoky voice set off even smokier images of her naked and demanding and… rollicking. He bit off a curse and reached for more coffee, trying to buy some time. Her whole demeanor screamed sex. The innocence of youth had burned off and left behind a pure-blooded woman with pure-blooded needs. He wondered what kind of man satisfied those needs. He wondered how ripe her breasts would feel in his hands, or how her lips would taste under his. He wondered what she wore under the clinging red dress.
“Nick?”
“Hmmm?”
“Did you hear me?”
“Yeah. Sex. I promise you’ll never find yourself in an awkward situation.”
“So, you’re telling me you still intend to sleep with Gabriella?”
“Gabriella and I are involved in a relationship.”
“But you won’t marry her.”
Tension snapped the air around them. He took a few steps away, desperate for some distance. “It’s not that kind of relationship.”
“Hmmm, interesting. So, you’re saying I can’t screw around because I don’t have anybody steady to screw around with.”
If ice cubes were available he would have sucked them down one by one. Her accusation made a strange heat rise to his skin. Her tone was mild. Her smile seemed easy and genuine. Nick felt poised on the edge of some female power trip, and he recognized he was on losing ground. He rallied for the upper hand.
“If you had someone steady in your life, we’d work out the situation. But strangers are too dangerous. I can guarantee Gabriella knows how to keep a secret.”
She smiled then. A delicious, feminine smile that promised delights beyond imagination and promised it all to him. His heart stopped, paused, then went on beating. Fascinated, he waited for her next words.
“No way, baby.”
He fought for concentration as her refusal slipped from that luscious mouth. “Pardon?”
“No sex for me. No sex for you. I don’t care if it’s Gabriella or a stripper or the love of your damn life. If I don’t have any fun, you don’t. You’ll just have to get your kicks out of this very proper business marriage and build your buildings.” She paused. “Get it?”
He got it. Decided not to accept it. And realized this was game, set and match, and he needed to win. His smile promised compassion and understanding and the money she needed. “Alexa, I understand this doesn’t seem fair. But a man is different. Gabriella has a reputation to uphold, also, so you’ll never be put in a bad position. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“So, you’ll agree to the terms?”
“No.”
Annoyance surged. He narrowed his eyes and studied her. Then decided to go for the close. “We’ve been able to agree on everything else. We’ve compromised. It’s only one year, and then you can walk away and have a damn orgy for all I care.”
Ice blue eyes stared back at him with sheer stubbornness and steely determination. “If you get to have your orgies, I get mine. If you want to be celibate, so will I. I don’t care about your crap regarding men and women and their differences. If I have to go to bed alone for three hundred sixty-four nights, then so will you. And if you want action, you’ll have to turn to your own wife.”
She tossed her head like a stallion just out of the gate. “And since we know we’re not attracted to each other, you’ll just have to find some other ways to ease the pressure. Use a little creativity. Celibacy should open other outlets.” She smiled. “’Cause that’s all you’re gonna get.”
Obviously, she had no idea he was a master poker player, and had spent the past few years blowing off steam in games where night turned into day and he walked off thousands richer. Like his old smoking habit, poker called to him and he used the vice for pleasure, not profit.
He refused to let her beat him, and sensed victory close. He dove for the jugular. “You want to be unreasonable? Fine. Deal is off. Kiss your money good-bye. I’ll just have to manage the board for a while.”
She slid out of the chair, hooked her purse over her shoulder, and stood before him. “It was nice to see you again, Pretty Boy.”
Direct hit.
He wondered if she knew how her mocking endearment irritated him and made him want to shake her until she took it back. Even as a kid, he’d hated it, and the years hadn’t dulled the sharp edge of the insult. As he did when he was younger, he gritted his teeth and bore the annoyance with an easy grin. “Yeah, it was nice. Stop by some time. Don’t be a stranger.”
“I won’t.” She paused. “See ya.”
That was the moment Nick knew he was wrong. Dead wrong. Alexandria Maria McKenzie could win at poker—not because she lied, but because she was willing to lose.
She also played a mean game of chicken.
She turned. Strode to the door. Twisted the knob. Then…
“Okay.” The words fired out of his mouth before he had time to think. Something told him she’d walk away and wouldn’t call back later to say she changed her mind. And damn it, Alexa was his only candidate. One year of his life was nothing compared to the gift of a future to do what he always dreamed about.
He gave her credit. She didn’t even gloat.
She turned back around and spoke in a crisp, businesslike tone. “I know the contract doesn’t state our new agreement. Do you give me your word you’ll stick to the new terms?”
“I can draw up a revised document.”
“No need. Do you give me your word?”
Her figure shimmered with energy. Nick realized she trusted him on the same level he trusted her. A prickle of satisfaction ran through him. “I give you my word.”
“Then I’ll shake on it. Oh, and the dissolution of the marriage after one year? My family can’t be hurt in this deception. We cite irreconcilable differences and pretend to part friends.”
“I can live with that.”
“Good. Pick me up tonight at seven and we’ll go see my family to break the news. I’ll take care of all the wedding arrangements.”
He nodded, his brain a bit foggy from his decision and her nearness. Was that subtle fragrance from her skin vanilla? Or cinnamon? He watched in a daze while she dropped a business card on the cherry wood table.
“My address at the bookstore,” she said. “I’ll see you tonight.”
He cleared his throat to reply, but it was too late. She had already left.