by Lori Wilde
He leaned forward. “We’re going to be celibate?”
“Not celibate, no.”
“So, we are going to have sex?” Humor rumbled through his voice with childlike enthusiasm.
“We’re not going to have sex with each other.” Tara’s breathing quickened, and her heart rate, oh, that was a freaking lightning bolt, zipping through her veins like a runaway train. She moistened her lips, couldn’t quite meet his eyes. She so should have thought this through before coming here.
“Let me get this straight. We won’t be celibate, but we won’t have sex with each other.”
“I . . .” she said. “You . . .”
He leaned forward, so closely she could smell his masculine scent and see the pulse at the hollow of his throat tick rapidly. “We’ll have an open marriage?”
“Yes . . .” She pointed a finger at him. “That.”
“Should we talk about the rules?”
“There’s only one.”
“And that is?” His eyebrows arched like twin question marks on his forehead.
“You don’t bring your women around Julie. Ever.”
He snorted, scowled. “Of course not.”
“Be discreet. Don’t flaunt your affairs. For Julie’s sake. You’re a public figure. If the gossip rags get wind of this—”
“I get it.”
“It’s—”
“Tara.” His voice was stern.
“Yes?”
“Are you going to be a nagging wife?”
Tara raised her chin. “If you need nagging, then yes, yes I am.”
He drummed his fingers on the table. The vein in his throat ticked faster. Finally, he laughed. “All right. Fair enough. What about you?”
“What about me?”
“You’re a sexy woman . . .” His gaze traveled over her, hot and leisurely.
Goose bumps cooled her skin, as a lava flow of desire bubbled over inside her. Oh no.
This was not good. Not good at all.
“In the prime of life. You have needs too.”
“Julie is my only need.”
“Uh-huh.” He eyed the front of her blouse, and that’s when Tara realized her nipples had beaded so tightly that he could see the outline through her bra. She cleared her throat. Shot him a pointed glance.
“I’m just saying, if you need to take a lover . . .” His eyes darkened, and his jaw muscles tensed, and his hands knotted up into fists.
Hmm, was he jealous? That idea sparked a thrill inside her.
Seriously, Tara?
“I can live without sex.” She’d already gone without for two years.
His eyes went back to her chest. “You’re responsive as hell, Tara Alzate. You shouldn’t have to live without sex. You need a man who appreciates how hot-blooded you are and puts your pleasure first.”
Prickly heat burned her nape. “My pleasure is none of your business.”
He was a handsome man. No denying it, and when she studied his face, met those piercing eyes as dark as her own, she felt an irresistible pull in the center of her solar plexus. A soft whispering deep in her brain, What if? Begging the question, could she stick to her own no-sex rule?
“We need to talk about a time limit,” he murmured.
“A what?” She blinked.
“How long does this marriage last?”
“Oh.” Something else she had not thought through. In her mind, she was Julie’s mom until the end of time.
“How long will we stay together? Until I get permanent custody of Julie?” He scratched his chin, screwed up his mouth in thought. “That could take months. Rhona’s parental rights have to be terminated first. Let’s say we stay married a year for good measure.”
He was right. They couldn’t have a marriage of convenience for eighteen years. Could they? There had to be some kind of time limit. But only a year to be Julie’s mom? It wasn’t nearly enough. “I . . . um . . . I could stay longer. Get you through her toddler phase and the terrible twos? Although the threes aren’t any picnic either.”
He shook his head, his hair falling adorably over his forehead. “That’s a tempting offer, but I can’t do that to you. As long as you’re hitched up to me, you can’t be out there finding your true love and having babies of your own.” He didn’t point out that she was thirty-two, which she appreciated, and the clock was ticking, but she got it.
“Um . . .” She gulped. “That’s not a concern. I can’t have children of my own.”
“Huh?”
“I can’t have kids.”
“Oh, Tara.” He gave her the saddest look, which pierced her chest like an arrow. “I didn’t know. No wonder you’re so invested in Julie.”
His kind tone stirred her tears, but she refused to cry in front of him.
Silence. Long and awkward.
He cleared his throat. “If you don’t mind my asking, what happened?”
She did mind him asking, but he deserved an answer. She gave him the pat version, left out the part that wrung her soul. The lost baby. She placed a palm to her abdomen. “I had severe endometriosis.”
“Oh.” He looked uncomfortable, and she realized she might as well have been speaking Greek.
“It’s a medical condition some women get that scars their uterus. That’s why Julie means so much to me,” she said.
He leaned back in his chair, stroked his chin with a thumb and index finger. “In that case, do you think a marriage of convenience between us is wise?”
Her heart stuttered. She was invested in Julie up to her eyebrows; if he backed out now, she’d be devastated. “Why not? You need help, I want to help . . .”
“The more you’re around Julie, the harder it will be for you to let go when the time comes.” He reached across the table and took her hand in a gesture so tender she could scarcely staunch the tears. “The last thing I want is to hurt you.”
She traced his knuckles. “Too late. I’m already in love with her. I’m going to get hurt. I know that. But she’s worth it.”
His eyes grew wide and solemn. “Julie and I are both lucky to have you.”
“And don’t you forget it,” she joked with a smile, ignoring her jackrabbit pulse and the lonesome feeling dug into the pit of her stomach. She was playing with fire and she was going to get burned. No way around it.
He steepled his fingers. “If we do this, no one can know we’re planning to split up eventually.”
Tara nodded. Couldn’t speak. Moved by the catch in his throat, the fear in his eyes. The changes in him since he’d discovered he’d had a daughter were unequivocal. The playboy rodeo star had finally grown up. His only concern was for his daughter. Tara admired him more than she could express.
“Let’s not do this,” he said. “I’ll just quit the PBR. It’s the smartest thing. I have to quit sometime. It might as well be now.”
“You need this win, Rhett. The PBR means everything to you. You’ve worked your entire life for this.”
“Julie means more.”
“You need the money for Julie’s future, and if you think you can win the championship, you have to take that chance. I’m on your side and I’m prepared to help you win. Besides, there’s Rhona. She’s the wild card in all this. She could show up out of the blue and want Julie back, but she’ll have a harder time convincing Judge Brando she deserves custody against the two of us.”
He bobbed his head. “All right.”
“All right what?”
“I accept your proposal. When do we do this?”
This part she had thought through. The sooner the better. “Fourth of July weekend?”
He frowned. “There’s a big rodeo that day.”
She gave him a pointed look.
“Oh yeah, right, priorities.”
“Is there anything else we need to discuss?”
This was not the marriage of her dreams, but then again, Rhett was not her dream man. It wasn’t a real wedding. She was sensible about this. No stars in her eyes. No hope f
or anything more. Why, then, did she get a catch in her side and a clutch in her chest?
A fearful little voice in her head panicked. Back out. This isn’t going to work. Get up and walk out that door. Marrying him will damage you in ways you can’t possibly imagine. Get out. Get out while you can.
But she overrode the fear, held steady, and waited for his answer.
Chapter 17
Hung up: A rider who is off the bull but is still stuck in the rope.
Sweet heavens, when did Tara get so gorgeous?
He’d always found her attractive, but right now she looked positively dazzling. Maybe it was because he was seeing her through the lens of a husband. She would be his wife.
Wife.
What an alien word. He’d never imagined himself with a wife or family. But then Julie had come along and turned his world upside down. Now, all he could think about was creating a happy, stable environment for his daughter. It was his duty to give Julie the best life possible, and that started with marrying Tara . . .
It would work.
It had to work.
Tara was still sitting at the table, coffee cup and a box of animal crackers in front of her. The blouse had dipped low, revealing a hint of cleavage that sent every masculine nerve inside him into overdrive.
He must have been staring because she straightened her shoulder. A move that pulled the pucker from her blouse and hid that glorious valley.
Rhett ducked his head so that she couldn’t see him grin.
She plucked a hair tie from her pocket and pulled her long, dark hair into a ponytail, a tidy, efficient do. Sending him a message? But a few unruly strands escaped and trailed down her nape in wispy tendrils.
Her high cheekbones had sharpened as she’d grown older, giving her a sleek, elegant appearance—a woman fully in charge of her destiny. One side of her mouth crooked up in a knowing smile. And he got a quick flash of straight white teeth.
Her entire family had the most amazingly white teeth. Something gained by great genetics and not professional teeth-whitening solutions. Her enigmatic chestnut eyes glimmered as if she was keeping a mysterious secret she would never share.
She’d always been lithe and graceful, but when she shifted and crossed her legs at the knee, the supple fabric of her skinny jeans outlined the curve of her shapely calves and thighs. She was voluptuous and fit. A radiant specimen of womanhood in full bloom.
His eyes, unable to resist temptation, tracked up the length of those thighs to where her jeans formed a sexy V. He shouldn’t be ogling, but he could not seem to control himself. She was a sight to behold. From the golden glow of her tawny skin to her perfectly arched eyebrows, he was spellbound. She was perfection.
How unfortunate that she could not have children of her own. They would have been so beautiful.
His heart ached for her.
Their gazes locked. Her eyes were steely and smooth. She was unaffected by him. Not the least bit ruffled. At least not that he could tell. If she felt anything for him beyond lifelong familiarity, she did not show it. Just noncommittal friendliness, the kind she might dish out to anyone.
Eyes back in your head, Lockhart. He’d be damned if he’d drool over her like a hound dog. He was better than that. She deserved better than that.
“Well?” she said.
Had she asked him a question and he’d been too busy eyeballing her to notice? “Mmm?”
“Is there anything else we need to cover to pull off this arrangement? Skeletons in the closet? Old girlfriends I need to know about beyond Rhona?”
“Rhona was never my girlfriend.”
“A one-night stand?” A disapproving look lit her eyes.
He wasn’t proud of himself, but neither was he ashamed. He was a grown-ass man, free and single. He could have sex with whomever he wanted. “It was a weekend thing.”
“Oh well then.” Her tone was snide. “That makes all the difference.”
“Who are you to judge me?” he asked.
She raised both palms. “I think you’re projecting.”
“Huh?”
“Don’t pull that redneck cowboy stuff with me. You’re sharp as a tack, Rhett Lockhart. You’re judging you. Not me.”
Yeah, probably. He threaded a hand through his hair, paced the kitchen. Impatient. Jumpy. And fully aware of her sitting so still and unperturbed, watching him like he was a patient on a psych ward observation unit.
“Go easy on yourself,” she murmured. “Your life has done a complete one-eighty, and it wasn’t by choice. It’s okay to feel ungrounded.”
Her sultry voice triggered smoky images in his head—Tara doing a striptease, rolling slowly out of her clothes, showing off that magnificent body of hers.
Holy shit, he needed to stop this. He clenched his hands.
But he could not stop the thoughts from tumbling in on him. What kind of men did she like? What kind of things did she like in bed? What would her lips taste like if he leaned over and kissed her right now?
“Rhett?”
“Huh?”
“Are you all right?”
“Fine, why?”
“You’ve got the weirdest look on your face. Almost as if you were—” She broke off, shook her head. Hopped to her feet.
Intrigued, he stepped closer. “Almost as if I were what?”
“Nothing.” She glanced away, and her cheeks pinked as if her mind had been stirring up sexy thoughts too. Had it?
“Are you having second thoughts about this?” he asked.
She tilted her chin up, swung her gaze back to meet his again. “Aren’t you? It’s a big step even if it is a fake marriage, and you are allergic to commitment.”
Friction sparked between them. Hot. Electric. Scary as hell. He wanted to turn tail and run, dying for breathing room. Better get used to it. They were going to be sharing a house . . . and a bed?
“Sleeping arrangements?” he asked.
“What?”
“Where will you be sleeping when we’re married?”
Tara sank her hands on her hips. “Certainly not in your bed.”
“Won’t your family think it’s weird if we have separate bedrooms?”
“They’ll know it’s a marriage of convenience. I won’t have to prove anything to them. I’ll continue to sleep on the futon in the nursery as I’ve been doing.”
“No. I’ll sleep in the nursery. You’ll take the master.”
“And you’ll wake up at night to take care of Julie?”
“She is my daughter.”
“And I’m the nurse.”
He drew himself up tall. “You don’t think I can handle it?”
She eyed him up and down, taking his measure. “You’ll be on the road most of the time anyway.”
“Which is why you should sleep in my bed.”
“I’m not doing that.”
“What are you getting out of this deal?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.
“I love Julie.” Her eyes were bright and clear, her body language earnest. She meant it. “I spent four arduous months at her side making sure that little girl had a fighting chance at life. You’ve got grit and heart, but you’ll most likely have to quit the PBR without me.”
“And you need to be needed,” he said. “It’s the reason you’re a nurse.”
She frowned. “That’s utter bullshit.”
“Is it?”
“Yes.”
“Why were you the one who babysat us younger kids when we were all growing up and not Ember? She was the oldest girl.”
“You know Ember. She’s not the warm and fuzzy type. Her babysitting style would have been to lock you in your rooms.”
“My point exactly. Why were you the one to bake us cookies and play checkers with us and tell ghost stories around the campfire?”
“I enjoyed it.”
“Why?”
She looked puzzled, as if no one had ever questioned her motives before. “Because it was fun.”
“Why was it
fun?”
“You’re annoying as hell, you know that?”
“And you’re avoiding the question.”
“Why does it matter? I’m willing to marry you to help you get custody of your child and keep your PBR dreams alive.”
“Why?”
“Why are you looking a gift horse in the mouth?” she cried, exasperated.
“Maybe I’m afraid it’s a Trojan horse.”
That silenced her. She sat down abruptly.
“Listen,” he said, settling down, shifting gears, trying to get his mind off that sweet mouth of hers. “It is my business. You’re putting your own life on hold for me. Why? As much as I need you, before I step into this arrangement, I have to drill down to the truth. What are you getting out of this besides being near Julie? You’re her aunt-in-law. She’ll always be in your life. Wouldn’t your time be better spent moving on and finding a real husband?”
Doubt flicked across her face. Worry lowered her eyelids. She bit her lip, shifted her weight. Uncomfortable. He got it. He was uneasy too. Caught between a rock and a soft place that would be far too easy to sink into.
Those soft places, he’d discovered, were far more dangerous than the rocks.
Soft places lulled you to sleep. Relaxed your guard. Lured you into a false sense of security. Robbed you of your will to fight.
“I love Julie. My intentions are pure,” she whispered. “I just want to help.”
“We’re back to why,” he said. “Why me? Why Julie? Why now? What do you hope to gain?”
She shrugged, her face reddening. “Nothing.”
“No expectation?”
“None.”
“I don’t believe that. Everyone has expectations.”
“Why are you badgering me?”
He hitched in a breath and spoke the truth as he saw it. “I like you, Tara. I admire and respect you and I don’t want to see you get hurt. I believe you do have expectations.”
“Since you think you know me so well, please . . .” She waved with an exaggerated flourish. “. . . enlighten me.”
“Forget me. Forget Julie. What do you want?” He lowered his voice, kept his eyes trained on her. They were getting somewhere. Finally. “What do you need?”
What did she need?
It was a simple enough question. Why did she find it so difficult to answer? And why was he beleaguering her to provide it?