Unexpectedly His(12)

So, did you say, yes?

Or are you mad? Please don’t be mad.

He needed a fiancée…you needed a date. Two plus two equals…

Personally, I think you should go for it! I mean, if you want to.

Just don’t give me too many details. LOL.

After all, he is my brother.

So be good. But not too good. :)

Marianne let go a sigh. Even texting her friend was exhausting. She turned down her tree-lined street and typed out a message. Not mad. Not anymore anyway. Not entirely. And I’m always good. Truth be told, she’d spent her life meeting, or rather, exceeding expectations. She bit down on her bottom lip and typed out the question boomeranging around inside her brain before she could change her mind. Eyes closed, she pressed send. But maybe I need to be bad?

A response pinged back almost immediately. Being bad sounds good. Then another. Maybe it’s time to act on that mad crush of yours.

A blush crept across her cheeks as she typed in her response. How long have you known?

The answer came back immediately. How long have you been working here?

Marianne climbed the front steps of her brownstone, typing as she ran through a mental list of what she’d need to pack. Six months.

And when did you first get a look at my brother? Her stomach did a stop, drop, and roll at the memory. Five months, fifteen days and six or seven hours ago. She wrinkled her nose at the digital confessional. Give or take.#p#分页标题#e#

Ping.

That’s how long I’ve known. <3

…

Nick rounded the corner of Mercer, heading home early—something he never did—to help his fiancée move into his place, a place that would be her home for the next six weeks. Sweet Jesus, talk about terrifying. He reached up to loosen the red power tie that suddenly felt too tight. Six weeks, six survivable weeks.

A new message buzzed into his phone, and he winced at the thought of another Congratulations, welcome to the club text. Or worse, another Are we still on for Saturday night invitation?

So much for no sleepovers, no back-to-back dates. His dating rules were about to take a serious beating. Thank God it wasn’t football season. He pulled up the text. Yankees game at the bar tonight. Up for it? Or are you spending the night with your fiancée?

Not a congratulations. Not an invitation. Just the inevitable taunt from the guy who’d slipped a ring on his sister’s finger a couple of months ago. And he would’ve fucked up the whole deal, too, if Nick hadn’t been around. What was he doing giving Nick a hard time? He typed out a message in response to Charlie’s text. You’re an asshole.

A grin creased his face as he pocketed the phone. Always best to keep it short and sweet.

But no matter how much shit he took from his friend, he’d be spending tonight, and several more nights, with Marianne, learning as much about her as possible. If they were going to pull this off, he needed to know more than just her preference for tea over coffee. They needed to get intimate. Or know a few intimate details, anyway.

The sunshine reflecting off the casement windows of his pre-war building welcomed him home, but as he neared the entry, his gaze drifted to the sight of a pair of killer legs. He stopped in the middle of the cobblestone sidewalk and stared at the woman parked in the loading zone in front of his building, the one reaching into the backseat of an aquamarine Prius, the one with the legs. Damn, his temporary fiancée got some back.

Hell, she’d looked so sexy this morning in her skintight workout gear he’d gone momentarily off the rails and flirted with her. His sister’s off-limits friend. He’d figured it was a one-time attraction. But now she was standing there on the sidewalk, all covered up in the knee-length skirt, and she still looked cute. Damned cute. Or maybe it was simply that Nick knew what lay underneath the prim hemline—a set of curves designed to conjure up some decidedly un-cute thoughts. Not that he should be noticing.

Despite her bodacious backside, Marianne McBride was not his type. Too uptight and inflexible. She drove a freaking Prius, for Christ’s sake. An aquamarine Prius. He shook his head. Probably a member of the Sierra Club, too.

Still, there was something about her…

But hooking up with a friend for a night of casual, no strings attached sex was not her style. Maybe he didn’t know her well, but that much he knew. Marianne was nice. Probably liked nice guys, too, guys willing to settle down in some solar-powered, all-brick colonial in the suburbs, willing to drive matching hybrids and have enough mediocre sex to produce two appropriate kids.

No. Thank. You.

Still, watching her heart-shaped ass move in that little pencil skirt had him thinking of other slightly less predictable futures. A future of hot sex. Of teaching the good girl the thrill of being bad. Highly improbable futures. Good thing she was strictly off-limits because an all-brick colonial was not for him. No, he was committed to a totally hands-off, sex-free six weeks. He shook off his thoughts and walked over to the car