An Indecent Proposal(16)

“Hell, let’s do it.” I grinned at him and shook his hand. As I turned around, I saw people staring. I could only guess it wasn’t usual for a newly engaged couple to shake hands rather than fall into each other’s arms. Not exactly a romantic moment. Nothing to gush about. Not even a ring.

But, for some reason, it felt perfect nonetheless.

“Great. Let’s order,” Chase said, and patted the chair next to him. “I’m starving. One of the first things you should know about your future husband is that I’m always hungry.” The glint in his eyes appeared again, and for the first time I realized it wasn’t just amusement. He was testing me to see if I’d withdraw my offer and back off.

I bit my lip hard, wondering whether I was making a mistake.

No going back on your word, Hanson. You’re working with him. It’s just a business deal, not a real relationship, and certainly no falling in love.

Damn right I wasn’t going to back off. Because, in spite of what people thought, I wasn’t a coward. I wasn’t a helpless romantic.

I was a fighter.

And Chase would help me win my own fight.





Chapter 4





“Ready to see your fiancé?” Jude’s head popped in around the door. Her voice pricked my bubble filled with hope of getting any work done.

“Please don’t tell me Chase is already here.”

“He’s just arrived.” She shot me her most saccharine smile. “If you want, I can keep him busy.”

“No, it’s all right.” I sighed at her smitten smile and got up from my bed, shutting my laptop in the process. Ever since I’d told her about my decision to let Chase play the part, she couldn’t stop referring to him as my “fiancé.” And how lucky I was to have found this “hottie.” Never mind the fact that I only knew his last name—Wright—and a few tidbits about his life. Like the fact that he was twenty-eight years old, a part-time actor who grew up in the hot South and would rather spend his days riding through the wooded pastures than lounging by a pool. Jude was convinced that everything else was just décor, as in—

First, the character…not important. In her words, “The guy’s hot. Who could possibly want to focus on a meaningful conversation in his presence anyway when his body could do all the talking?”

Second, the past…let’s be honest, who doesn’t have a closet full of secrets and probably a few skeletons?

Third, bad habits…in his case, easily overlooked because…see point one.

In short, Chase had to be good because he was sexy. Talk about being objectifying, which she was, even though I would never have called her out on it.

After all of ten minutes speaking with him on the phone and a few more minutes of seeing him in real life, Jude was in lust, hook, line, and sinker. And now she was literally begging me to dig my fingers into him, or give her my sloppy seconds so she could find out if an actor not only looked but also played the part.

While I laughed at her outrageous suggestion, a jolt of unease hit me yet again, only this time, as I slipped into my jacket, I pondered what it could possibly mean.

Chase was a good-looking guy, charming and groomed. We had gotten on well the previous night. Maybe even too well because, right after our short dinner, he had brought me straight home, as if our arrangement had settled everything and there was nothing else to discuss.

Granted, his easygoing attitude and the fact that he wasn’t taking himself too seriously had been a relief. Much to my surprise, we even shared my life philosophy on commitment: We both didn’t like the idea of being tied down. And, just like me, he was focused on work and success. So I knew there would be no invisible questionnaires to assess a prospective life partner and his outlook on the future, no mentally planning the wedding and choosing the kids’ name.

I attributed my sudden uneasy streak to the fact that he was the only candidate I had for now, and consequently, in a twisted kind of way, I was being over-possessive and overly cautious, not wanting to make a mistake that would overcomplicate things, such as sleeping with the “help.”

Count in the fact that he was about to help me out big time, and he was all mine—on a strictly platonic level. Which was why I had insisted on meeting with him in the afternoon, just for coffee, to set up some rules that would keep any blurred lines clear and would ensure our business deal couldn’t possibly steer into a sexual attraction direction, which meant:

No gazing into each other’s eyes in a dimly lit room.

No accidentally touching each other’s hands while reaching for a drink.

And certainly no awkward moment of parting ways while standing in the doorway and pondering the idea of inviting him in just to see what happens—like the one brainless moment I’d had the day before when I wondered whether he was as toned as he looked.