Chapter 3 #3
He shakes his head and leans an inch closer.
His breath tickles my lips, and his eyes become a point of hyper-focus for me.
So dark, they almost become mirrors. So still, I can see my own reflection bouncing back and reminding me how utterly unarmed I am in this situation I’ve created for myself. “Kissing?”
My stomach sinks. My heart skitters. My entire world tilts on its axis and threatens to spill over. “What?”
“Will there be kissing?” he chuckles. “We’re selling a story, right?
When we’re with these people, showing them how adoring I am and how loved you are, there is likely to be kissing, no?
Hand holding.” He glances down and strokes my wrist with the tip of his pinky finger.
“Hugging. Sitting on my lap, perhaps? Your contract didn’t mention physical contact, but due to the parameters of this assignment, I can only assume a convincing ruse would include some kind of physical interaction. ”
“Um…” Shit. Fuck. Dammit! I didn’t think of that.
“No, I…” I swallow again to save myself from the lump of nerves intent on ending my life.
“To expect any kind of… in exchange for money would be…” I clear my throat.
“That would be disrespectful. I’m certain we could convince my family without having to resort to—”
“Chemistry matters, though, don’t you think?
” His lips curl into a self-satisfied smirk.
“A couple could fuck in front of an audience, and the audience wouldn’t believe it was anything more than an act if there was no chemistry.
But a stroke of a hand…” His pinky sets the skin of my wrist on fire.
“The simple act of me brushing the hair off your shoulder. Or holding your eyes, though you want so badly to turn away.”
“Uh…”
“You’re very beautiful, Melanie. And I’m just a man. Everyone knows we’re prisoners to our baser instincts. Chemistry, it seems, will be far too easy for us to capture, which can only be a good thing, considering the role you’ve hired me for.”
Why are you so dumb, Melanie? Why are you so easily led?
Why won’t you speak?
“Um…”
“Perhaps, to make up for my Thursday absence, we should consider a two-hour getting-to-know-you chat over dinner tonight?” He nibbles on his bottom lip and short circuits my common sense.
The smooth rolling of stubble on his jaw rewires my intelligence.
The way his lips curl playfully destroys my ability to remember whatever the hell we’re even doing here.
And then his knuckles brush over my stomach, proving he could command me, body and soul, if I’m not careful.
I never once said I didn’t want to be with a man.
I just don’t want to be with a man on a long-term basis.
“Chemistry,” he chuckles softly. “Lucky for us, we have it in spades. Dinner?”
“Uh—”
“Whose truck is that outside, Mel?” Anna bangs her way through my front door, tossing her purse to the living room floor like she always does, and makes a beeline for the kitchen.
Like always. And because I’m an idiot, like always, I choke out a garbled squeak of panic and spin from the man who is, unfortunately, absolutely perfect for the job he’s signing on for.
“It’s rusty and ugly and—” Anna skids to a stop on the threshold, her eyes springing wide and her hand slamming to her mouth so hard, I know we’ll both count the finger prints marking her skin in ten minutes. “Err…”
“This is nothing. It’s no one!” I dart away from Nick’s side and steamroll toward my fridge, only to swing back dramatically, arms flying and nervous laughter echoing across the otherwise silent kitchen, to grab my wine glass.
Then I retrace my steps to the fridge and snatch out the bottle of wine I’ve already opened.
If I was alone, I’d chug straight from the bottle.
“W-why are you here, Anna? I wasn’t expecting you until later. ”
“Obviously.” In my peripherals, she lowers her hand and saunters toward Nick, stopping only when two feet separate them and her head tilts back to keep him in her view.
He towers over her five-feet, four inches, just as he does mine.
And though I rot away in my self-loathing and wine-craving, she merely grins.
As does he.
“Anna.” She offers her hand and eyes him the way she does when we go out. She knows how to scan a man’s body, decide his net worth, deduce his personality—or lack thereof—and guess the size of his penis to a scary accuracy, all in one look and a single second.
And yet, not once in all the years I’ve known her, have I felt a sense of ownership over a man the way I do right now. He’s my date. My purchase, for a week at least.
God, I’m such a bitch.
“And you are?”
He takes her hand and shakes, staring down at her with much the same fervor she does him. “I’m Nick. Mel’s boyfriend.”
“Boyfriend? Really?” She drops his hand and sets hers on her hips instead, shooting a displeased glare my way. “Really? And he’s already in your home? You’re lucky you’re not dead!”
He clears his throat and rolls onto the backs of his heels when we both look his way.
“I’m sorry. Dead?” Then he meets my eyes.
“Tell me this is not an elaborate ruse where you trick me into falling in love before revealing a terminal illness?” He swings his hand up and lays it over his chest. “My heart couldn’t take it. ”
“I’m not dying.” I close the fridge door and pour wine while I walk.
“And no one is falling in love. Nick, she’s Anna.
She’s cynical, outspoken, unkind, and a car snob.
Also, she’s my best friend and a lawyer.
Anna, he’s Nick. He’s yet to kill me, has agreed to our business deal, knows the stakes, and was just leaving anyway. ”
“Just leaving?” Humored, he looks down at his shoes and nods. “And here I was thinking I was about to receive an invitation to dinner. I read the room wrong.”
“You should absolutely stay for dinner!” Anna beams. “I would love to get to know you.”
“Have dinner elsewhere, Nick.” I set the bottle on my counter and bring my wineglass up. I’m dying of thirst. “Sign the contract. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Tough audience.” He wanders to the table and scribbles his signature on each of my nine-page document.
Scrawling letters and unhurried swirls. He initials and dates.
Marks each page and checks the back to ensure he’s missed nothing.
Finally, when he can’t drag the moment out for a single second longer, he sets the pen down and reaches into his back pocket to pull his crumpled hat free.
“So I guess that’s me, then. I’ll find a meal elsewhere tonight, and I’ll be by tomorrow morning.
Nine a.m. sharp?” He sets his hat on his head and uses both hands to position it the way he likes. “That work for you?”
“Three p.m. is fine.” Nerves make me anxious, and Anna’s smug grin is like holding my hand over a flame. It hurts, and the longer it goes on, the more it stings. “That’s enough time to show you to your room and allow you to settle in. Then we can cook dinner and get started.”
“Get started on what?” Anna taunts. “Precisely. Because surely, any such business discussions could be held during daylight hours and without the need for sleeping quarters.”
“Sorry, Anna.” He clicks his tongue and strides past her. “I already signed the contract, and luckily for me, it promises seven days of lodging. I’m kinda really counting on the shelter, so…”
Wait. What?
But before I can ask, he stalks my way, his long legs eating up the minimal space.
Then he ducks in faster than my brain can process and lays a kiss on my cheek that sends my pulse skittering.
“Catch you tomorrow, Princess.” He pulls back and flashes a fast wink before spinning on his heels and tugging keys from his pocket.
“Nice to meet you, best friend Anna. I suppose you’ll be the maid of honor at our future wedding, huh? ”
“Looks that way.” She watches him all the way through the door and across my living room.
And when the layout of my house makes it impossible for her to maintain a view, she skitters to the doorway as he strides through my front door and down the porch steps, his heavy boots clomp-clomp-clomping against old wood.
“Um…” Stunned, but amused and horrified all at once, she twists back when Nick’s beat-up truck roars to life and backfires with an unhealthy boom that makes me jump.
But it’s Anna’s wide eyes that hold my focus most of all.
“Is that man homeless, or… What the hell, Melanie?”
“I don’t know!”
“He was counting on shelter? Does he have nowhere else to go?”
“I don’t know! He just…” I swap my wineglass for the bottle. Fuck it. “I caught that, too.”
“And his truck is one strong breeze away from turning to dust.”
“Anna! I know.”
“He’s sinfully sexy and hooooly shit, his eyes are like…
they’re like…” She shakes her head. “You ever thought about the devil inviting you for a cookout in hell? You know it’s dangerous, you know you really shouldn’t accept.
Good girls don’t go there. But looooooord, it’s tempting.
That’s what his eyes are like. He’s broad and strong and smells good.
His handshake is firm, and his eyes…” She fans her face. “Did I mention his eyes?”
“Yeah.” I tip the bottle back and chug. “Something about the devil. I got it.”
“So the facts, as we have them,” she strides to my table and snatches up the contract to leaf through the pages, “are that you have now purchased an escort. For a week. You’re Richard Gere, and he’s Julia Stiles.”
“Roberts.”
“What?”
“Julia Roberts. Richard Gere and Julia Roberts.”