The Bachelor Contract

by Rachel Van Dyken

  She barked out a laugh. “Noted.”

  “Second.” Hell, he was having trouble concentrating as she wet her lips and blinked up at him. “My brothers are off with their wives enjoying the poolside bar—I told both of them if they stepped foot inside this room I’d kill them. The wives gave me their word that they’d distract them, going as far as to take off their clothes so that the guys don’t get any ideas to interrupt us.”

  “And what exactly would they be interrupting?”

  Here goes. “Date number one. Well, technically it was date four.”

  “I’m confused.”

  “I’m re-creating your favorite dates. With you.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “‘Yes’ would be good.”

  She was quiet. Too quiet. His heart sank.

  And then she gave a weak nod. “Yes.”

  Thank God. “Just so you know, by saying yes you’re agreeing to spending the night with me.”

  She tensed.

  “Fully clothed.”

  She smiled. “We didn’t sleep together on our fourth date?”

  “Hell no. I believe I told you when we first met, I don’t just let anyone in my pants.” Wrong thing to say, since lately that was all he’d been doing. But she didn’t miss a beat, simply rolled her eyes. “What? What’s that look?”

  “You’re…different.”

  “Bad different?”

  She shook her head. “Good different.” A deep frown marred her pretty features. “Why are you doing this?”

  “I thought that was completely obvious.”

  “I’m blind, so…” She lifted her shoulder in a half shrug. “I can’t really read your expression. All I know is you sound lighter, happier.”

  “I am.”

  “Good.” She almost looked upset about it.

  “Because of you.” Because he was with her. Because she said yes. Because suddenly things felt hopeful.

  “How so?”

  Brant spread his hands across her bare shoulders and ran them up her neck. “You deserve the chance we never had. I want to give that to you. A chance to go on after the b-baby.” He swallowed the thickness in his throat. “After the fire.”

  “And…and how are you going to do that?”

  “By reminding you why we were so damn good together. Why we fell in love. Why we stayed that way despite everyone telling us we would never make it.” He pressed a kiss to her lips. “I’m seducing you—and giving us closure at the same time.”

  “I don’t understand.” She gripped his wrists, her fingers digging painfully into his skin. “You’re seducing me and giving me closure?”

  “I define our relationship as before the accident. Because after? After, we were nothing, we were too broken, too damaged. There was never an after. Only a before. I’m giving us the after. And I’m giving you the choice you never had.”

  A tear slid down her cheek, colliding with his hand. “And if I walk away in the end?”

  His heart twisted inside his chest. “Then that’s your choice. But now, at least you have one.”

  She nodded. “This is pretty heavy for a first date, you know.” Her smile was back, but it was forced.

  “Well, you’re the one who asked.” He leaned in to kiss her again, only to have her pull away at the last moment. He knew it wouldn’t be easy, but he just wanted to taste her, to make her understand that he wasn’t going anywhere, not unless she wanted him to.

  Brant sighed, then pulled away and reached for her hand. “Follow me.”

  “Where am I following you to?”

  “On our fourth date, we went stargazing. I wanted you so damn bad—wanted to slam you against the nearest wall, and, well”—he grinned—“you can probably fill the rest of that vivid image in. The point is, you wanted to freaking star-gaze. And I couldn’t say no, even though my body hated me. So, I came up with an idea. If we star-gazed, then I could at least feel you up, and if I felt you up, then you’d most likely kiss me, and if you kissed me, maybe I would get some action.”

  “Your mind’s a terrifying place.”

  He laughed, then took her arm again and led her outside to the large patio overlooking the resort. The hum of the outdoor hot tub filled the air along with the strong smell of chemicals. He’d purposefully turned off all the lights in an effort to make it romantic and to see the stars, and he was momentarily pissed when he looked up and it was cloudy.

  Maybe it would clear up?

  Not that it mattered. He knew she couldn’t see them, but that was part of his plan.

  He let go of her hand long enough to grab the nearby blanket and laid it on the ground next to the cheap champagne and plastic Solo cups.

  “All right, just lay back here.” He helped her sit down and then very carefully sat down behind her, straddling her.

  She tensed.

  “Is this okay?”

  “Is this how our date went?”

  “You don’t remember?”

  She shook her head. “I remember loving the stars and telling you it was one of my favorite dates.” She sucked on her bottom lip. “And I remember that you smelled really good back then.”

  “And I don’t now?”

  She laughed and tensed a bit in his arms like she was afraid to relax. “You always smell good. It’s really irritating, believe me.”

  “Are you saying I irritate you?”

  “Not right now.” She breathed out a sigh and scooted back against him. “Okay, Brant, tell me about the stars.”

  He glanced up and almost told her the truth. No stars. Nothing but heavy clouds that threatened to burst open at any minute.

  But God, her face.

  She was smiling—it was everything.

  His throat burned as he watched her expectant face. “They look like glitter in the sky, like thousands of diamonds twinkling just for us. I see”—his hands moved to her face as he gazed into her eyes—“I see fire and passion. I see joy, beauty…I see you.”

  “In the stars?”

  “Yeah.” He didn’t take his gaze away from her face. “In the stars.”

  He kissed her.

  She pulled away and stared ahead. “Is this the part where I get felt up?”

  “God, I hope so.”

  She laughed. A real laugh.

  He didn’t kiss her.

  Knew that it wasn’t time yet, that she didn’t trust him enough not to do something stupid, and since his track record had pointed toward stupid he sat there, content with just holding her.

  Until a raindrop slapped his cheek. And then another. He ignored them and kept kissing her. Until a crack of thunder sounded.

  “I don’t remember this happening on our date,” she joked, crawling out of his lap. He wrapped the blanket around her to protect her from the storm and guided her back inside the hotel room.

  “Shit.” He almost forgot the champagne. Brant ran back outside, getting his clothes completely soaked as he picked up the champagne and the cups. When he got back inside, she was laying the blanket on a nearby table.

  “Everything okay?” she asked. Her eyes searched the room, darting from left to right in an effort to either focus on him or whatever direction he was coming from. His throat burned. His heart ached. He’d done that to her. He’d broken her and then broken them.

  “Yeah.” He licked his lips and slowly moved toward Nikki. “Everything’s great.”

  “It was a good date.” She put a hand out and placed it on his chest then moved it to his shoulder.

  He took her fingertips in his hand and then kissed her cheek. “Date’s not over yet.”

  “Because you never felt me up?” she joked.

  “Well, that, and because we never drank our cheap champagne.”

  Her eyes lit up. “Please tell me it’s the grocery store Brut that only costs four dollars and ninety-four cents.”

  “The one and only.” He laughed. “You remember?”

  “Only important thi
ngs like the fact that you bought it for me every year on my birthday. To go along with the homemade pasta.”

  “And when you say homemade, you mean—”

  “You bought the box mac and cheese and put a candle in it, yes. That kind of homemade.”

  “I’m a wizard with mac and cheese, admit it.”

  “You’re…something.” She grinned and then held open her right hand. “Okay, champagne.”

  “Ah, so now she’s excited.”

  “Aw, was I not excited enough when we were talking about you feeling me up?”

  “I’d prefer you throw a parade next time or at least jump into the air, but I’ll take whatever I can get.”

  She laughed and then laughed harder before sobering. “I miss this.”

  “Nope.” He cupped her face. “We aren’t going to do that, okay? Let’s just focus on the good, maybe if we do that…” God, he hoped he was right. “Maybe the bad won’t seem as bad if we remember the good.”

  “Brant.” Her voice was sad. “Friends talk. We need to have that talk otherwise none of this is going to work.”

  “I know,” he admitted. “Just…not yet.”

  Tears filled her eyes. “Okay.”

  Thank God. He wasn’t ready for it yet, ready for the talk that could send her out of his life for good. Because once they traveled that road, Pandora’s box would be ripped wide open—and what if she couldn’t move past it?

  What if he couldn’t? What if all they had was now?

  “Hey, Brant?”

  Damn thing was impenetrable. He twisted the wire off and covered the cork with a towel. “Kinda busy saving the day here, Nik.”

  “By opening a bottle?”

  “I’m a man, it’s what we do. Well, it’s what I do. Son of a bitch, this thing won’t come off!”

  “Brant.” She warned.

  “Fine. Sorry.” The cork finally came loose. “You were saying?”

  “It rained.”

  He glanced behind him, more like a torrential downpour. “Yeah?”

  “How can you tell me about the stars if you can’t see them?”

  “The same way you recognize things without seeing them, I guess.” He wanted to touch her again, to kiss her. “I did it from memory, and when that failed, I just looked into your eyes.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  She was overwhelmed.

  So overwhelmed.

  He’d kissed her good night on the cheek and then walked her all the way across the street to her apartment, only to kiss her again, ask if she needed anything, and walk away.

  Or she assumed he walked away. He could still be standing out in the front of her apartment building, and she’d have no idea.

  Sometimes not seeing sucked.

  She bit her lip, then smiled. But tonight? Tonight it didn’t suck, because Brant had told her about the stars, because his voice had been like coming home. They’d teased. They’d laughed.

  No yelling. No breaking things. Just the Brant she remembered.

  Moisture burned in her eyes before she wiped the angry tears away. In theory, she understood what he was doing, but it was still confusing as hell. Did he really want her? Or was he doing this out of guilt? And what happened when, at the end of everything, she fell for him all over again only to have him walk away again—or worse, decide that she wasn’t worth it.

  She shook the thought away. She wanted to trust him. But trust had to be earned.

  Look at her—one date in and she was already falling for him all over again. Who was she kidding? Even when he was angry she never really stopped wanting him, at least the old him, the one she knew was trapped in an angry prison of their own making.

  Brant Wellington, player, millionaire, sex god—ex-husband—was wooing her. She’d have to be an idiot to turn him down—even though she had a sinking feeling it wasn’t going to end well. How could it? With so much damage still done? So many things left unsaid between them, and then tonight when she’d mentioned talking he’d said, Later.

  Putting it off wasn’t going to make it any less painful. So she’d agreed. What other choice did she have? When faced with the one man she still ached for?

  Nikki went through the motions of getting ready for bed only to blink up at the swirls of grays and blacks above her. Thinking of his hands. And the way they felt against her skin.

  She shivered and then imagined she was in his bed; he was holding her and promising to never let go. Focus on the good, he’d said. The before, the after, not the in between that had destroyed them.

  * * *

  Nikki was woken up by what sounded like knocking. What time was it? Where the hell was she?

  The pounding came again, only this time it sounded like urgent knocking. Softness surrounded her.

  Bed…she was in bed. Oh God, she hadn’t set her alarm last night.

  More knocking. She shot out of bed.

  “Crap!” Her knee hit her nightstand as she bolted away from the mattress and made a mad dash to the door. “I’m late. I’m sorry!”

  Cole’s blurry figure stood before her. “Don’t be.” Was he laughing? “I wrongly assumed you slept with Brant last night and woke him up at the ass crack of dawn. He was not pleased. And I couldn’t hold back the shit-eating grin on my face.”

  “What? Why?” Nikki bumped into a chair and scooted it away as she went to the fridge.

  “Because he didn’t get laid and I know it. Happiest day of my life.”

  She groaned. “I thought you wanted me to try with him.”

  “Oh, I do. I just find great satisfaction from you making him work for it. Hey, how about tonight you put on something sexy, rub all over him, and then walk away? Only take a picture of his expression right before you do. I want it as a screensaver.”

  “Very funny.”

  “Or, wait.” The sound of him snapping his fingers echoed through the small one-bedroom unit. “Tell him to wait for you naked, blindfold him, then leave him with an ungodly amount of roses around his body for the maids to find.”

  Nikki tipped back some orange juice and wiped her mouth. “You done?”

  “I’ll think of more later, I’m sure,” Cole said cheerfully. “Also, lucky you, the very first appointment of the day is in less than an hour and it’s Nadine Titus.”

  Nikki froze. “Do you think she’ll…be picky?”

  “Last night the woman was tossing shots back with George and Mr. Wellington like they were water. My guess, she’s going to be snoring through the whole thing or nursing a hangover.”

  “Good.” Nikki nodded as her palms started to sweat. She knew Nadine was going to pry; she couldn’t help herself. She was like a shark when it came to matchmaking—relentless.

  And part of Nikki just wanted to keep what was happening between her and Brant—at least, the details.

  Cole interrupted her thoughts. “You need help with anything?”

  “Nah, I’ll be ready in fifteen.”

  True to her word, Nikki was knocking on the door to her massage room about twenty minutes later.

  “Mrs. Titus?”

  “I think by now you can just call me Nadine or Grandma.” Her soft voice piped up. “Sounds weird being a missus when you’ve spent half your life being a mistress.”

  Nikki smirked and made her way around the table, placing her hands on the sheet. “Sounds good, Grandma.” Her own grandma was dead; her parents had rejected her marriage to Brant right off the bat, and they had been estranged ever since. Which meant she really didn’t have much of a family outside of Cole and the staff.

  “I have to ask.” Nadine stretched her arms above her head then tucked them back under the sheet. “What’s best? The angry kiss or the makeup kiss?”

  Nikki froze. “I’m sorry?”

  “Well, he’s such an angry one, that Brant. Does he kiss that way? Or does he kiss you tenderly? Or maybe he does both?”

  “Um…” How the hell did she answer that?

  “Oh, how nice, he does both.�
� The woman wouldn’t stop talking. “You know, back in my day we never labeled kisses. Kissing was kissing. These days there’s tongue, there’s…well, I won’t go there, but there’s this thing you do to a man that can—”

  “All right!” Nikki found herself shouting. “How about we try a deep-tissue relaxation massage. You can even fall asleep.” Please, God, make her fall asleep.

  Nadine yawned. “Oh, okay, dear. Thank you for giving him a chance again.”

  “You sound so positive that I am.”

  “Well, you are standing straighter. Your smile’s brighter. Last night when you were under the stars—”

  “Wait, weren’t you at dinner?”

  “Never mind that. You looked like you were home. It was a good feeling. Just give him a chance. That man has a lot of love to give.”

  Nikki shivered as memories she’d kept locked down seemed to break free. His hands. His body. Their kisses. Shower sex. Elevator sex. So really, just sex everywhere all the time—which was probably what led to getting pregnant.

  Not that they hadn’t been trying. Because Brant really had wanted a big family. And so had she.

  Tears welled in her eyes when she thought of all of their moments, their love, the way he always made her feel like the most beautiful woman in the world, the way he’d tried so damn hard to be perfect.

  Only to fail. When she’d needed him the most. Because she had pushed him away. Because she had said hurtful things.

  “Nikki?” Nadine interrupted her. “Are you okay? You’ve been rubbing my bunion for a good two minutes.”

  Nikki jerked back. Bunion? “Really?”

  “No, no bunion, I just don’t want to be rubbed raw. If you need me to reschedule…”

  “Sorry. I was thinking.”

  “Of Brant?”

  It was hopeless, the woman was going to be a talker. “Yeah.”

  “I love a good story. Tell me about Brant’s hands.”

  Nikki froze. “What? What do you mean, his hands?”

  “Or better yet, his body. Explain him through your eyes.”

  “But I can’t really see.”

  “Exactly. What do you feel?”