Contract Bride. Kat Cantrell

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СКАЧАТЬ dreamed about again last night and a serene expression on her face that didn’t change when she caught his gaze.

      Good. She’d been edgy in his office the other day and he’d half expected her to back out at some point. After all, he hadn’t really had to sell her on the idea of a marriage to keep her in the country. It had been remarkably easy to talk her into it, and for some reason, he’d become convinced that she’d change her mind after she had a chance to think about it. Marriage was a big thing to some women and maybe she’d dreamed of falling in love with a capital L.

      But she was here. His shoulders relaxed a bit, releasing tension he’d been carrying since Wednesday. This was going to work. Down Under Thunder was toast. And if he had the opportunity to develop a few more harmless fantasies starring his wife, no one had to know.

      Tilda halted in front of him smelling fresh and citrusy. Funny, he’d never noticed her scent before and his imagination galloped toward the conclusion that she’d wanted to do something special for the occasion.

      “We have a conference call at one o’clock with Wheatner and Ross,” she said by way of greeting.

      A timely reminder. That’s why she was worth every dime of her paycheck. But he couldn’t seem to stop looking at the thin strand of hair that fell from her forehead down across her temple.

      It wasn’t more than a millimeter wide, but it followed the line of her face to hit just under her jaw, and he had the strongest urge to slide it along his fingertips as he tucked it behind her ear. What madness was this, that she’d missed that miniscule bit of hair when she’d gotten dressed this morning?

      New perfume. Defiant hair. Was it possible she was affected by the gravity of what they were about to do? Because he was. He’d lain awake last night, unable to close his eyes as he thought about the realities of having Tilda under his roof, how he’d see her in the morning before they left for work, have a cup of coffee together, even. Maybe he’d give her a ride. It only made sense that they’d go to the office together since they were coming from the same place. They could talk about things and—

      Jonas might have a point about the inherent lack of professionalism that would come with having an easily accessible woman in his house. Too late now. He’d have to bank on the fact that he and Tilda had already discussed the necessary lack of intimacy.

      Warren cleared his throat. “Then we should get on with it.”

      She nodded with a slight smile. “It helps when we’re on the same wavelength.”

      They always were. They were cut from the same cloth, which was what made her so easy to work with. Conversely, it also made it easier to imagine slipping in deeper with her, loosening her up, finding ways to make her laugh more. They’d be good together, if he ever did find himself unable to resist crossing that line.

      No.

      There would be no line crossing. The project was too important to take those kinds of risks. His vows were too important. He gestured to Jonas and Hendrix as he doled out the introductions.

      “Mr. Kim.” Tilda shook Jonas’s hand briskly. “I worked on the campaign for your hybrid printer during the global rollout two years ago.”

      Jonas’s brows lifted as he nodded. “That was a great product launch for Kim Electronics. I didn’t realize you were on that team. It was very impressive.”

      Crossing his arms, Warren tried not to smile too smugly, failed—and then decided there was no shame in letting it be known that he only hired the best. Which shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone.

      Hendrix slid right into the space Jonas had vacated, charm in full force as he shook Tilda’s hand for about fifteen beats too long, which wasn’t a surprise to anyone. The man would probably flirt with a nun, given the chance. Regardless, Warren did not like the way Tilda smiled back, never mind that Hendrix was happily married to a woman who could command a cover spot on a men’s magazine.

      “We have a marriage to conduct,” Warren reminded everyone briskly before he had to punch his friend for taking liberties with his wife-to-be.

      Employee. Wife was secondary. Which shouldn’t be such a difficult thing to remember.

      The strand of hair across her temple settled into place, drawing his gaze again. He couldn’t take his mind off it, even as they navigated the courthouse maze to find the justice of the peace who performed marriages.

      They stood in line waiting for their turn, an oddity in and of itself. Warren had never given much thought to what should constitute a proper wedding ceremony, especially since he’d started the week with zero expectations of ending it married. Not to mention the fact that his marriage had strict business connotations. But these other couples in line surely had more romantic reasons for tying the knot. In fact, they were probably all in love, as evidenced by their goo-goo eyes and the way they held hands as they waited. A courthouse seemed like an inauspicious start to a marriage that was supposed to be till death did them part.

      He shrugged it off. Who was he to judge? It wasn’t like he knew the proper ingredients for a happy marriage, if such a thing even existed. Divorce rates would indicate otherwise. So maybe Warren and Tilda were the only couple in the Wake County courthouse today who had the right idea when it came to wedded bliss: no emotional component, a carefully worded prenuptial agreement, a date on the calendar for follow-ups with proper government agencies so the annulment could be filed and mutual agreement to part ways in the future. No surprises.

      Tilda engaged him in a short conversation about the campaign she’d been working through. He fell into the rhythm of their work relationship easily, despite the weirdness of doing it while waiting for the justice’s inner chamber doors to open. They’d enter single and emerge married.

      It wouldn’t change things between them. Would it?

      All of these other couples surely had some expectations of things changing or they wouldn’t do it. They’d just stay an unmarried couple until the day they died, but instead, they’d done exactly what Warren and Tilda had. Applied for a marriage license and come down to the courthouse on an otherwise unremarkable Friday to enter into a legal contract that said they could file their taxes differently. Why? Because they’d fallen prey to some nebulous feeling they labeled love?

      “Warren.”

      He blinked. Tilda was watching him with a puzzled expression on her face, clearly because she’d asked him something that he’d completely ignored. God, what was wrong with him? “Sorry, I was distracted.”

      Why couldn’t he just talk to Tilda about the project and stop thinking about marriage with a capital M, as if it was a bigger deal than it really was? Like he’d told his friends—business only. Nothing to see here.

      Wedded bliss wasn’t a thing. And if it was, Warren Garinger didn’t deserve it. Marcus’s death was his fault and a lifetime of happiness with a woman wasn’t the proper atonement for his crimes.

      Flying Squirrel was Warren’s focus, the only thing he could realistically manage. For a reason. A company didn’t have deep emotional scars. A company didn’t waste away while you looked on helplessly, unable to figure out how to stop the pain. A company didn’t choose to end its pain with an overdose after you thoughtlessly said, “Get over it, Marcus.”

      That was the real reason Warren would never break the pact. It was his due punishment to be alone the rest of his life.

      * СКАЧАТЬ