by R. S. Elliot
“Well, this is a lifetime commitment you’re making here,” she said. “You want to give it some thought.”
A lifetime commitment to a perfect stranger? Wonderful! My heart thudded within my chest. My body was close to shutting down. Could I do this? Could I carry on with this little charade to appease my sister for a lifetime? I reminded myself just why I was doing this. I needed to find a match, someone who would be content to be a firefighter’s wife, happy raising a family, and occasionally look after my mother.
I wasn’t even happy with that life. But it was what needed to be done. It was what my father expected me to do, what the family expected of me. I was the one who needed to pick up the broken pieces of this family and keep it together for as long as possible.
“So, what are you looking for in a wife?” Lyndsey asked.
I froze.
How do I answer that? A blonde with a spectacular body and a mouth that drives me insane? I wasn’t looking for a wife like that. Hell, I was basically looking for the opposite of that! I didn’t need someone challenging me every step of the way, and I certainly didn’t need someone who looked ready to leap at the next opportunity to pass her way every second she had.
“Look.” I rose, moving around the table. “I don’t think this is going to work.”
“You haven’t even tried,” Lyndsey said, rising to her feet and placing herself between me and the door. “All I need to know is the type of relationship you want or the woman you imagine yourself being with.”
And if that woman was Lyndsey Saunders, the one woman my sister would never approve of, what then? Holidays were already awkward enough. I couldn’t make it infinitely worse by screwing my sister’s arch nemesis.
But there she stood, pressed against the door, her eyes glued to mine. It would be so easy to lean down and kiss her, to pin her there between my embrace and show her why this particular business relationship would never work.
“I know that something like this can be overwhelming at first,” she said, near breathless, suddenly seeming to notice the position she’d found herself in. “But you’re never going to be able to make a connection if you don’t even try looking for one.”
I leaned into her, placing one hand beside her on the door. “And if I said what I wanted was you, what then?”
Her chest rose suddenly, falling swiftly against a sigh. “I’m not on the table.”
I closed my eyes, trying to imagine anything but her on a table, legs wrapped around my waist and feeling her body melt into mine. So, she didn’t want to start something. All those heated words and emotions between us were just a figment of my imagination?
I didn’t believe it.
“Why not?” I asked, my hand stroking along the edge of her cheek. She shivered against my touch, leaning into me despite her declarations of being beyond her reach.
“Because your sister…”
“Doesn’t have to know anything.” So, the only thing that had changed was we finally knew each other’s names and knew for a fact that we were off-limits. It wasn’t that she didn’t want me. The heat of her skin beneath my fingertips told me otherwise. She clenched her lower lip between her teeth, sliding her eyes closed. I inclined my head forward, the urge to taste her mouth no longer a desire but a relentless need.
“You want something long term,” she said suddenly, placing a hand on my chest and pushing me from her. “And that isn’t me.”
She drew one sharp inhale of breath, a gasp of air fleeing from the room now as hot as a sauna. I struggled with my own breath, trying to claim what I could from the diminishing air around us. But she was right. This wasn’t a long-term solution. This was pure, unbridled lust, and I was falling right into the trap.
“We would both be foolish to risk what we want on a mere whim,” she added, sliding out from beneath me and tucking a stray curl back behind her ear.
I wanted forever.
Obviously, I wanted passion, but something that lasted longer than a brief tryst. And if I did this, there would be no turning back. I couldn’t date other women while sleeping with the woman setting me up with them. All that time would be wasted. Everything I’d been trying to avoid, shallow women and shallow relationships; I’d be right back where I started.
That’s not what I wanted. We both knew it.
“I’ll arrange something for you, Mr. Carson,” she said softly. “Then we can discuss how the date goes after that and maybe come up with a better idea of what you’re looking for in a match.”
“Fine,” I said, nodding. “Just let me know the details.”
I had just signed away my soul in exchange for freedom from a blonde heiress. Maybe I would find my match doing this. Maybe being exposed to Lyndsey Saunders for an extended length of time would make me immune to her, much like fears people must be entrenched in, in order to overcome them.
And maybe a meteorite would strike me dead that afternoon and spare me from having to deal with all of this.
Slightly less plausible.
Though a man could dream.
Chapter Eight
Lyndsey
“I want you now,” I said, hopping onto the desk in my temporary office and spreading my legs apart.
I was completely naked, save for a pair of my favorite stilettos. I was unashamed and as brazen as a warrior, ready to do battle for what was mine. Maybe I was too foolish to know that doing this in my place of business, in my cousin’s own backyard, was the riskiest thing I could do if I wanted to hold out any hope for a future—but I didn’t care.
Hunter was there.
And that made all of this worth it.
He closed the distance between us in two strides, his lips taking hold of mine. He tasted like fire, hot and smoky, as if he’d escaped from the jaws of Hell. It was a warning, I supposed. One last reminder that this man represented nothing but sin and giving in to him was as good as signing away my soul.
Before I even knew how it happened, he was there, his erection pressing against my entrance. In one quick thrust, a ricochet of pleasure enveloped me, soaking into my body like the rays of sunlight in summer. I could feel the pressure rising within me with every stroke. Every touch of his conquered a new corner of my heart.
There was no going back, no convincing me this was wrong. I would sacrifice a thousand family homes, all my inheritance, for an eternity of this.
I rose to the precipice, my nails digging into Hunter’s back, my knees clinging desperately to his waist. I was so close to collapsing, so close to erupting with ecstasy beyond all normal concepts.
And then the door swung open.
“I knew it,” Vanessa said, opening the door even further to reveal the remaining members of my family.
I gasped, the shock so strong it propelled me forward.
The images scattered, shifting to phantoms in the darkness until nothing but shadows cast by moonlight remained. I stared around the dark room. My eyes slowly adjusted, the soft streams of twilight lending their aid. This wasn’t my office. It was my bedroom. My lonely, empty bedroom where Hunter Carson was nowhere to be found.
Had it all been a dream? This time it felt so real.
Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that I had spent ten minutes in a conversation with my first client and had already come close to kissing him. It was safe to say, my first day of work had not gone as smoothly as possible. Though, surprisingly, the other clients on my list were significantly easier to handle when compared to Hunter Carson’s smoldering declaration.
And if I said what I wanted was you?
I ignored the insistent need to curl back up under my sheets and revisit the sweltering dreams from before. They were a reminder.
Playing with fire often resulted in someone getting burned. And while Hunter would recover from the inconvenience of having to look for yet another wife in the process, I would be the one to suffer the consequences. I would lose everything—my lifestyle, my freedom, and my home. All of it gone because I hadn’t ha
d sex in over six months.
That was it. Maybe I needed to have meaningless, mind-blowing sex to get my mind off of Hunter Carson and his gorgeous blue eyes that left me breathless.
Just like now.
What the hell? The sex hadn’t even been real, and I was still panting as if I’d just finished a challenging workout routine.
I didn’t need this distraction. I needed to get Hunter out of my mind. He needed a wife—one I luckily found for him with ease. It wasn’t hard to find someone who fit into his demographic, someone who still harbored romantic notions of finding the perfect match despite the cold, methodical approach my cousins took to matchmaking.
If I found Hunter an excellent candidate and he fell in love with another woman, I could forget him even easier. He certainly wouldn’t pin me up against the door in my office and make sensual pleas about wanting me. I wouldn’t have to try so hard to resist his charms if they were focused on someone else.
The thought of him with another woman brought me little comfort. A small twinge bore its way into my heart, digging deep like a snake wriggling its way into its winter home.
Was I actually jealous? The last thing I wanted was something permanent. A house, a family, anything that tied me down to one place for too long. So why did the thought of Hunter dating and potentially finding his soulmate inspire such sadness and anger?
My phone dinged beside me. A confirmation from the client I’d chosen for Hunter to meet. The woman was definitely interested and available at his earliest convenience. She sounded promising.
Great.
It took me a matter of minutes to arrange a meeting with Hunter to go over the details of his date, and another hour to mentally prepare myself for seeing him again. What did one wear to a meeting with someone they’d just had a sexy dream about? Especially when that meeting was meant to catapult the object of my desire into a lifelong relationship with someone who made him ridiculously happy.
My stomach somersaulted into itself, landing in a sickening ooze that was enough to make me nauseous.
Perfect! Was this how every meeting I had with Hunter going to go?
The sooner I got him married off to someone else, the better off I would be.
“So...what is she like?”
Hunter asked, staring back at me over the portfolio I’d put together about his next date. He wore another simple, dark t-shirt that clung to his body with the perfect amount of tightness and slack. As if he hadn’t been trying to look as delicious as the forbidden fruit he was.
“She’s a school teacher,” I explained. “Elementary. Great with children and definitely ready to start a family of her own.”
“Any interests?”
I shrugged one shoulder upward, trying to remain as calm and collected as humanly possible without hurling myself across the desk at him. “Starting a family for the most part. What other interests do you want her to have? You didn’t exactly give me much to work with.”
“I don’t know.” He shook his head absently, as if even he wasn’t sure what vision he had in mind for his ideal woman. “We need something else to talk about than the kids. At least for the first part of our relationship. Don’t you think?”
It made sense. A person should be able to interact with the person they plan on spending the rest of their life with on more than a superficial basis. And, he had said he was more interested in connections than anything else.
Though that didn’t seem to be the way things operated around the office. Vanessa and Kyle expected blind obedience. They expected convenience and ease for the client. They wanted a pair of puzzle pieces that fit perfectly together, that looked nice when placed together, though they may have very little in common at all.
“This is more of a trial date,” I explained. “You get a feel for the process, and we can go over more of the qualities you do and don’t want in a wife based on your experience.”
“That seems a little cruel, doesn’t it?” he asked, letting the file flop down onto the desk. “We’re getting this woman’s hopes up just so you can try out a personality type on me?”
Was he trying to spin this on me?
Like I was the bad guy in all of this because he had chosen to drag his heels. “Well, I wouldn’t have to do trial and error at all if you would just give me a type that you preferred. Or gave me any indication of the type of woman you are looking for. So, this is really all on you.”
He settled back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest. “Fine. What am I supposed to do at this thing?”
What was he supposed to do? There was no way a man like this was confused about how to act on a date. He was toying with me at this point. He had to be. If he made my job that much more difficult, he figured I’d leave him be. Well, he wasn’t getting off the hook that easily. And I definitely wasn’t going to risk my job because he wanted to be difficult.
“It’s just dinner,” I said. “You do know how to go on a regular date, don’t you?”
“It’s been a while.”
“I’m sure,” I said, disbelieving. The corner of his lip tilted at one end. “Just be yourself and see how it goes. You can even wear that outfit, if you like.”
“Ah.” The smile broadened, and he peered down at his choice of clothing. “Do you like this?”
“I didn’t say that.”
He tilted his head to the side, as if he’d caught me in a lie. “But you said it would be acceptable to wear on a date.”
“I meant something casual, nothing frumpy or over the top.”
“But you admit I look good in this?”
The heat rose to my cheeks. This man was unnerving! Though, he wasn’t wrong. “I’m not admitting anything like that, Mr. Carson.”
“Hunter.”
“Excuse me?”
Hunter held out his hands. “Look, I’ve saved your life already, and you’re trying to set me up with the woman I will marry. I’m pretty sure that qualifies us for a first-name basis by now.”
Yes, let me completely break protocol and treat this man like an intimate friend. That would really help me with the whole distancing myself from the situation sort of thing. “I don’t think so.”
“I get it,” he said, nodding absently. “You’re wildly attracted to me and think that calling me by my last name is going to make a difference. But it’s not. It’s something you’re just going to have to live with at this point.”
I stared at him blankly. Had I really been that transparent, or had these types of declarations just always worked for him in the past? “Is this supposed to be your charm?”
Again came that wicked smile that caused my knees to melt. His eyes locked over mine, stealing into my soul as if reading me from the inside out. “I wouldn’t say charm, so much as—”
“It needs work.” It totally didn’t need any work. My God, all the man needed to do was flash his wolfish grin in my direction, and I was one tenuous restraint away from begging him to take me on the desk between us.
The subtle aching emerged in the pit of my stomach. One that wove its way down between my thighs, teasing me with whispered promises of pleasure that only this man could deliver. A haunting reminder of dreams spent in an office almost identical to this one. Ones that were definitely not appropriate for a meeting with a client but were embedded in my mind all the same.
I needed to get out of here. To get out of this room before I did something I might regret. Not only would Vanessa fire me on the basis of fooling around with a client, she would murder me if she found out that client was her brother.
“Well, Mr. Carson,” I said, trying to take back control of the conversation. “If you are ready to meet with the client, I will set up the date for tomorrow.”
He sighed, all humor leaving his face. Had he expected me to give in? To pretend that we hadn’t been thrown into this ridiculous situation? I still had a job to do. No matter how painful. Three days into my ninety-day employment was way too early to have second thoughts.
“Fine,” he said, tossing up one hand in surrender. “Set it up. What’s the harm, right?”
Exactly.
No harm at all.
Or so I tried to convince myself.
Chapter Nine
Hunter
As far as dates typically go, that could have gone better.
Being proposed to on a first date was definitely a first in my book, though I couldn’t say it had even been my worst.
Lyndsey was right, though. The woman hit every box on my checklist. She was attractive, family-oriented, willing to share in the household responsibilities, and wanting to settle down. She left out the part about the woman being obsessively baby crazy and just a little too desperate to get married for my tastes.
I even felt for a short while after the date had ended that I was inexplicably being followed by a shadowy figure.
We had parted ways amicably, however. I hadn’t been able to come up with an excuse at the time, though I’m sure there was some sort of protocol for ending a relationship before it even began. That was the beauty of trying a matchmaking service, I suppose. Everything was done through them, and my privacy was kept completely safe. If I didn’t want to see the woman again, I didn’t have to worry about her cyber stalking me or trying to block her on as many dating platforms as possible.
We were done. Though I couldn’t say the prospect of getting back out there made me feel any better.
The restaurant wasn’t too far from where my apartment was, though I’d taken the long way home that night. I did this not only to avoid being followed back home, but also to clear my mind. Was this really what I should be doing? Did I really want to go through a string of dating mishaps just to find the best candidate?
If finding a wife was meant to happen organically, this definitely didn’t feel right. I shouldn’t be expected to find the right person in a matter of days or weeks. It was a lifelong commitment that required time and digging. It required trust. What if I never felt that spark? That magic? Would I just have to settle? And if I risked never waiting for that spark, what then?