“It’s going to be okay.” She placed her palm against his chest, directly over his pounding heart. “I can play the adoring wife, no probs.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about,” he said, lowering his arms and thrusting his hands in his pockets.
“Then what’s up?”
He turned away, his back rigid, shoulders tense.
“Beck?” She laid a tentative hand on his back and he spun around, his eyes dark.
“This…thing between us. I don’t want—I mean, I can’t give you—”
She placed her fingertips against his lips, silencing him. “We’re attracted to each other. No big deal.”
He brushed away her fingers. “This marriage is strictly business. I don’t want to take advantage of you, but…” He shook his head. “Fuck, I don’t want to lose control.”
“I can take care of myself.” She’d done a good job of it so far. Apartment in LA, thriving freelance marketing business, living the life.
So why did his sudden protective concern disarm her more than his kisses?
“I don’t want anything from you, bar what we agreed on. I don’t do emotions. I don’t do complications.” On impulse, she reached up and smoothed his lapel.
Surprisingly, he didn’t swat her away. “What about a marriage with benefits?”
“Marriage with benefits,” she echoed, as if trying it on for size and not liking the fit. She couldn’t give in to him. She wouldn’t. If only she could convince her traitorous body, which was practically straining toward him. Needing a quick change of subject, she said, “Why don’t you give me the grand tour? Then we take our fake marriage duo act to your wedding shindig.”
“What about those benefits?” He took a step toward her and she held him off with a fingernail to the chest. “We could get lucky.”
She should’ve known he wouldn’t accept her brushoff.
“Doubtful,” she said, giving him a gentle shove. Predictably, he didn’t budge.
“Didn’t you know?” He grabbed her hand and hauled her in close. “In Vegas everyone gets lucky.”
“I thought the house always won.”
“We’re holding a stacked deck. We can’t lose.”
His lips crushed hers, a swift, potent assault that left her gasping and yearning for more despite every self-preservation instinct screaming, “Invest in more granny panties now!”
She pushed him away, and this time he let her. “How magnanimous,” she muttered, earning a grin as he snagged her hand and tugged her deeper into his house.
Correction: his home. That’s what this place truly felt like.
Slate floors highlighting the rustic colors of the desert covered in a profusion of turquoise, butternut, and camel rugs. Low ochre suede sofas stacked with matching cushions, and surrounded by paintings depicting various Nevada backdrops, this place screamed cozy and comfy and livable.
Which begged the question, why did he have it if he never spent any time here?
“It’s gorgeous.”
“I like it.” He shot her a grateful glance, as if he’d expected her to criticize. “It’s what I think a home should look like.”
His flat intonation gave her a chill. Considering what he’d divulged about his family, she didn’t blame him for wanting a house filled with warmth and color. All the more reason to hang out here.
“You should definitely come here more often.” She said it offhandly, carefully studying his reaction. Emotions may not have been part of their marriage deal, but it paid to get a heads-up on her business partner.
And that’s all Beck was. She’d be foolish to think that just because he trusted her enough to bring her out here to his home, assuming he was showing her a part of himself he kept hidden, that it meant anything more.
She didn’t want more. She wanted complication-free, so she could walk away without regrets once his deal was done.
“Business keeps me busy.” He stared out the nearest window. “I travel a lot. Don’t have time to sit back and smell the cacti.”
She squeezed his hand. “This place is incredible. You should make time.”
His prolonged silence unnerved her before he released her hand and swung back to face her. “You’re welcome to live here.”
“While we’re married, you mean?”
He nodded. “Make it easier on both of us, not having to keep up pretenses twenty-four-seven.”
Damn, he was a hard one to read. One minute he was all over her, the next he wanted her as far away as possible. He was right, though. The less time they spent together the less chance of throttling each other, and she had no doubt they’d soon tire of playing happy newlyweds.