The Marriage Agenda(13)

It matters because you never got over him. And because you want to take  the chance he's giving you and destroy him with it. Maybe not literally,  but if she proved his father was a crook, the fallout would do nothing  less.

She sighed and pushed open the door to her office. She'd made exactly  two trips back to her apartment since they leased the house, which meant  she was lacking most of her stuff. She hadn't needed much-just her  computer and some clothes-but now she wished she'd brought something  familiar. Everything around her was either plush or shiny, and she had a  feeling that would make it hard to concentrate on her job.

Speaking of which, she hadn't checked in with her editor in over two  days. Beth probably didn't miss her, but that wouldn't exactly be good  news. Chloe settled onto her desk chair and opened her laptop. The  password screen came up just as Knox poked his head through the doorway.  She automatically turned her computer away, a habit she'd gained from  her days in a cubicle at the Tribune when having anyone look over her  shoulder had made her skin crawl.

"Pizza is in the fridge," he said, giving her an odd look. "I'm going to hit the shower."

Had he found it absolutely necessary to tell her he was going to be  naked, lathered, and soaked in steam? Swallowing, she felt irked to  notice she'd suddenly gotten hot. "Did you save me an undamaged piece?"

He grinned. "I guess you'll find out if you work up an appetite  later … after you finish with whatever you're hiding on that thing."

She rolled her eyes. "The password is my birthday. Have at it. And work up your own appetite. I have a bet to win."

"I've been meaning to tell you," he said, stepping into the room rather  than taking his cue to exit. "I think there's a flaw in that plan. An  orgasm shouldn't count as a loss."

No, no loss there. Was it even possible he could want her as much as she  wanted him? His shirt hung loose and unbuttoned, offering a tempting  glimpse of tanned abs and a happy trail that was borderline ecstatic.  His hair was slightly tousled, his sensual lips shaped into the crooked  grin that had become a tabloid trademark. God, she could go after him  with a fork. But no, his brain-or that other organ-was probably just  pegged on sex, and she was the only allowable source. "Is our friendly  wager a little too friendly for you?"

His trek ended with an invasion of her personal space-and not an  unwelcome one, at that. "Considering you've banned orgasms," he said in a  deliciously low voice, "I'd say it's not quite friendly enough."

Her pulse fluttered, fanning the fire that seemed to erupt inside her  when he drew near. "I'm sure you have enough friends. Keep your pants  on."         

     



 

"Can't. I'm going to take a shower."

"You mentioned that. Save me some hot water." And go. Please.

"I'll see what I can do." Grinning, he took off his shirt, fully  revealing the kind of abs seldom seen outside underwear ads and the  chest and shoulders to match. "You didn't tell me to keep my shirt on."

Chloe bit her lip. The man was delectable, and he was turning her into a  stereotype … the kind who sat lusting in a wet puddle all day because  there was a ridiculously hot guy treading a little too close to her  erogenous zone. "Is this a strip club now?"

"That depends. What are you willing to take off?"

She pressed her knees together and looked at her desk. "Didn't I tell you I had work to do?"

"Suit yourself. I'll see you in bed."

She closed her eyes and counted to ten. When she opened them, Knox was  gone … but he probably hadn't gone far enough. He was probably exactly  where he said he'd be-in the shower. Naked.

She so did not need that image in her head. And it was too bad she  couldn't get her mind to stop with visuals. Her brain insisted on  replaying in vivid detail all the sex they'd had-everything from the  taste of beer on his lips to the ridiculous parade of brightly colored  condoms, but more than that, what he'd said. She could not believe he'd  remember her favorite drink or her preference for outdoor cats without  there being some kind of emotional attachment, but hell, he was a  politician. He was a schmoozer by trade, and she'd do well to remember  as much.

She needed to regroup. He'd given her a great opportunity, and if she  wanted to make the most of it, she was going to have to come up with the  story to end all stories-and if she was really lucky, she'd save her  grandmother's farm in the process. As it was, she had little to go  on-just Rex's name cropping up time and time again in the good ol' boys  club, rubbing elbows with the heads of Pactron Energy Corporation. That  in itself might not have been suspicious, if Rex hadn't also spearheaded  a nasty public fight against the factory's expansion to a new site.  Most of the people in Knox's circles had been unattainable, so if she  was going to make the most of this chance, she was going to have to  start digging.

She scrolled absently through her email. Aside from a couple of older  unanswered messages from Lila asking how Chloe's date had gone, most  everything was junk. She was just about to close the tab when she  noticed a note from her editor. She glanced at the time stamp … 3:00 a.m.  No wonder she hadn't seen it-most of the middle-of-the-night stuff was  auto-delete.

Regarding your employment.

She frowned. The subject of the email seemed a bit too serious for Beth,  and that-along with the time the message had been sent-didn't bode  well. She clicked on the message and scanned its contents.

Midway through, she no longer saw words.

She saw red.

She stared at the screen in shock. She'd been reassigned as a staff  writer in the Home and Garden section. Reassigned her ass. More like  demoted.

Home and Garden?

Knox.

The timing was suspect at best. Beth didn't say as much, but Chloe didn't buy into coincidences.

Furious, she pushed away from her desk. Leaving the computer, she headed  straight for the master bedroom. From there, she followed a thick cloud  of steam to the Italian marble bathroom, where she found Knox dripping  soap and hot water under one of two extra-wide rainfall shower heads.  The double walk-in didn't have a door, so her approach was soundless,  and with his head tipped back and his face to the spray, he didn't  notice her.

But he would.

She reached past him and cut the hot water, leaving nothing but cold.

Spewing profanity, he turned off the spray and fumbled for a towel on  the wall behind him. He wiped his face and blinked at her, his  expression bordering on everything and landing nowhere.

Despite the fact she had him naked and dripping with unease, she didn't crack a smile. "You just cost me my job."

"What are you talking about?" To his credit, he looked bewildered. He  made no attempt to cover himself, however, and the fact her gaze caught  on his package irritated her-even more so when she looked up from his  goods and saw he was watching her … and grinning.

Not a good time to push buttons. She kept the warning to herself. "My  editor sent me an email mere hours after our engagement went public.  Apparently there's a conflict of interest. It seems the paper doesn't  want to appear as if it has lost its objectivity with the upcoming  special election."         

     



 

"You were fired?"

"No, but I might as well have been. I've been reassigned as a staff  writer for the Home and Garden section. Home and Garden, Knox, you ass."

He held up his hands, though he'd have been wiser to protect himself. "Hey," he said. "Wait a minute. I didn't do this."

"The hell you didn't." She reached and unleashed the cold water. The  spray didn't hit him as completely as it had the first time, but it hit  him where it counted. "Enjoy your shower."

She spun around, only to find herself pulled backward, soaked and  sputtering, her body turned and fully pressed against his. "I think I  will," he said. He turned up the hot water until the spray was remotely  tolerable. "I happen to be quite fond of cold showers."

Though she was fully clothed, officially drenched, and her knees a mass  of Jell-O, she didn't bat an eyelash. "I bet a man like you doesn't have  to take many."

His eyes had darkened to a rich chocolate hue. "And why would you believe a thing like that?"

"Because, as you so clearly stated while in the throes of wooing me, you have quite the playboy reputation."

"And you know as well as anyone that reputation doesn't necessarily correlate to fact."

"Yet it always seems to come from a place of truth." She tried to take a step back, but his grip on her arm tightened.

"Where are you going?"

She shivered, and it had surprisingly little to do with the lukewarm  water cascading from the shower head. "I think we're done here."

He shook his head. "I don't think we are. First of all, I had nothing to  do with your reassignment, though I can't blame them for the move.  They're protecting their credibility-and, I might add, yours. Besides,  this will only help you."