Unexpectedly His(26)

In bed with his sexy new discovery.

And he wanted answers. He wanted to know how she’d ended up in his cake, why she’d kissed him and run, and if she’d be willing to break the no-sex rule for the remainder of their agreement. Because he sure as hell was willing.

But nothing else had changed—not for him. This was still a short-term arrangement. A business arrangement. He wanted to add a little extra spice to an already sweet deal. Nothing wrong with that. Yes, he was proposing, but to satisfy his colleagues, and with a temporary ring—a prop, really—more like a loaner ring than an engagement ring.

Still, there was no doubt that he wanted her like crazy, and if all his feelings fell into the temporary category, why were his hands sweating? Don’t even think about it. He shoved aside the niggling doubt, reached into his pocket, and pulled out the battered leather box. Her eyes widened and stared at the small square between the two of them. Nick wasn’t sure who was more shocked.

“Is that what I think it is?” Her quiet words tumbled out as his own raced ahead of his brain.

“It’s a loaner,” he said.

It’s. A. Loaner.

If there was even a single molecule of romance in the moment, his words sucked them out of the room as if they were a fleet of those extra-powerful Dysons. His fingers closed around the square box in a vise grip. God, did he have to sound like such an asshole? Not that their engagement was romantic. This was a business deal with an agreed upon expiration date. But still, it’s a loaner? Shit. He’d meant to reassure her. Or himself. Or…hell, he didn’t know. He was holding a box with a ring in it, for Christ’s sake. But he hadn’t meant it to sound so calculated and defensive. So temporary.

“A loaner.” She adjusted her pretty, new glasses in that nervous way of hers, her eyes locked on the small box extending into the space between them.

Nick cleared his throat. He needed to backtrack. “You don’t have to wear it. I just thought if we’re trying to convince everyone we’re getting married,” he said, choking on the last word, “an engagement ring might close the deal.”

Marianne blinked over at him as if she could see straight through him. Like she saw all the reasons he kept strict dating rules, all his fears, and all the reasons he’d always be single. She saw him. The real him. And Nick wasn’t sure he liked the view from her eyes.#p#分页标题#e#

“A deal is a deal.” Her soft-spoken words felt like a punch to the stomach. This would never be a real relationship. He knew that. He was fine with it. But her detachment still stung.

The leather box seemed to float in the air between them. He stared at it. She stared at it. Like it was some kind of time bomb.

Finally, she took the box from his hand, opened it, and placed the ring on her finger. The damn thing fit perfectly. As if it were made for her. The light from the overhead fixture caught the stone, and she stared at the vintage-looking sapphire, studded with small diamonds all wrapped up in a platinum circle. Quite a score for his father—sentimental, too. No wonder his mom had wanted him to pawn it. Nick still remembered the day she’d given it to him to sell. He’d been fourteen. They’d needed the money, and he’d gone to sell it, but when he was standing there at the counter in the shop, he’d made the owner a deal instead. He swept that guy’s floor for an entire year, but he’d let Nick keep the damn ring.

His gaze took in the sapphire sparkling on his fiancée’s finger. He cleared his throat and tugged hard on his shirt collar. “The ring belonged to my mother.”

Marianne looked up at him, her blue eyes a shade cooler, twisting the ring on her finger as if the decision to wear it was painful. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure to return it in six weeks.”





Chapter Eight


“Be a man of your word.”

—mantelligence.com

Two hours into the event, it was clear Nick hated casino night. The spinning roulette wheel, the shuffling cards, the chiming slots—all of it. Especially Let It Ride poker; the game got under his skin like no other. Not surprising, given his father’s choice to let it ride had cost Nick his childhood.

And tonight was worse than usual. He felt like a con man, a punk from the Heights all dressed up in a pricey suit, accessorized with a counterfeit fiancée to impress the high rollers. He took a pull from his beer. At least the money flying out of everyone’s pockets would finance the dream of more than one kid from Brooklyn, a charitable cause he wholeheartedly supported.

If his partnership bid wasn’t on the line, he’d clock in an hour’s worth of requisite schmooze and get the hell out before the pulse of the makeshift casino grew unbearable. Already on edge, he wanted to take his fiancée home and put together a few more pieces of the puzzle, maybe play a game of Truth or Dare, use the mask he’d saved from Friday night to take her on a blind tour of her body. Oh yeah, Nick had definite plans. He took a short pull of his Heineken to cool down and scanned the room for Marianne, finding her sitting next to his boss happily schooling him in the art of blackjack.