by Aria Scott
When the band started playing again, I drew Aubrey onto the dance floor. We line danced one more time, with me not knowing what I was doing. I turned left when everyone else turned right; I did this shit-kicker thing with my boots when everyone else spun around. Yeah, I looked like an idiot but I didn’t care, because I had her laughing. We were both a little drunk by that point and, as the band tooled the song down to another slow dance, I pulled her into my arms and held her close. She didn’t resist this time.
I leaned my head in close to hers, lightly kissed her ear. I was expecting her to push back, but she just sighed softly and settled a little more into me. I could barely see her face—the dim light hid her eyes, and fell on her little nose and full, inviting mouth. I sensed her arms tighten slightly around me, felt her run her palms over the muscles in my back. Her touch was soft, questing.
Aware she could feel my hard, throbbing cock pressing against her abdomen, I breathed against her ear, making her shiver in my arms.
“I want to taste every inch of you,” I said softly.
There it was. I’d said aloud what my body had been demanding ever since she’d walked into this club.
She looked up at me through her lashes then, her eyes a deep, mysterious green in the diffused light, and I saw the surrender in them.
I held her hand as I led her off the dance floor and over to the table. “’Scuse us,” I murmured to Lisa and Doug. “We’re just gonna...”
Lisa raised an eyebrow. “Mmhmm.”
“He wants to show me his Mustang,” Aubrey added.
Doug grinned. “Sure.”
“I’ll watch your purse.” Lisa gave Aubrey an encouraging nod.
Suddenly feeling like a schoolkid, I led her out of the bar, and into the parking lot. I’d parked the ‘stang under a tree, at the far side of the lot. I led her over to it.
She let go of my hand, smiled a little, walked a circle around the car. “Looks good. No worse for the wear.”
“I’m not out here to talk about my car,” I murmured, my voice husky.
She paused beneath an old streetlamp. Its dusky glow created shadows that played about her face, creating hollows beneath her cheekbones and darkening her eyes. My gut tight, I stepped closer to her, put my arms around her. I drew her close, my fingers gently squeezing around her waist. That honeysuckle scent of hers enveloped me.
She was so soft, and so warm, that I wanted to rip her clothes off, lay her down on the hood of the Mustang, and spread her thighs with my own. My cock throbbed at the thought of it, and I sensed the tension inside of her, too; could see the heavy, quick beat of her pulse in her neck.
Her lips parted and a little sighing noise came from between them as she looked up at me, her eyes aglow with yearning she couldn’t hide. All at once, I didn’t care who was watching us, didn’t care what anyone would think. My cock was swelling, it was throbbing for her. Slowly, I lowered my head to hers, until our lips were only a millimeter apart. Our gazes met, and I saw what was in her eyes, and knew then that she belonged to me--at least for the moment.
With another little breathy moan, she stretched up to press her lips on mine. Her touch was like a shock, and suddenly my heart was slamming in my chest. I opened her lips with my own and kissed her with brutal force, like a savage, pent-up need leaving me unwilling to do anything but satisfy my desire for her as fully and as quickly as possible. I jabbed my tongue inside her mouth and tasted that sweet warmth that I’d been fantasizing about ever since she’d walked into the bar, and went on kissing her until she crumbled against me.
Breathing heavily, I dragged my lips from hers and began kissing her ear, her jawline, working my way downward. Her hands fluttered upwards for a moment, as if to push me away, but then they curled around my neck. Her fingers twined into my hair and pulled on it as she moaned, deep in her throat.
“Nice.”
The word came out of nowhere.
I pulled away, then spun around.
A grizzled-looking old guy in a leather vest that said “Heathens” was sitting on a big Harley and eyeballing us. The man had a biker chick behind him.
“You sure know how to kiss,” the biker chick observed with a cackle.
“Get a room,” the biker said baldly.
Frowning, I put my arm around Aubrey and steered her back toward the bar, leaving the bikers behind us. On the inside, I was astonished. The way she’d opened up, the sensation of her molding into me...the passion had exploded between us like a Fukushima meltdown.
“Why don’t you kiss me like that?” the biker chick whined somewhere behind us.
“Well, you ain’t got an ass like that one,” her boyfriend responded, just as we walked back into the bar.
I wasn’t an awkward kind of guy, especially around the ladies. I knew how to play the game, and how to end it without causing any hurt feelings. But at the moment, as I followed Aubrey back into the bar, I felt like a clumsy fool. That kiss had left me stunned and uncertain. She’d knocked me completely off my game.
I smiled stupidly as I stopped at her table and let her sit down. Her girlfriend Lisa and the other guy were both gazing at us with a questioning look, but I had nothing to say. Aubrey seemed just as tongue-tied as me.
“Hmph,” Lisa finally muttered. “Is there a full moon tonight?”
My smile faded as an urgent feeling inside me took hold. I didn’t know what had been so different about kissing the redhead...I just knew that it’d had nothing in common with the others. The weird thing was, I had this feeling that I’d known her before--way before high school. And the happiness I’d felt when my lips landed on hers--it was like I’d just found a lover that I’d lost long ago. None of this made any sense, and I knew I was letting my imagination get away from me. Still...
I couldn’t wait to get her against me and kiss her again.
First, though, I had to lock her down. To get her to agree to the business proposal that still sat at the top on my Agenda of Life.
I fixed my gaze on the top of her head, and willed her to look up at me. She did almost immediately, as if I’d spoken aloud.
“I need to talk to you for a minute or so,” I told her, the urgent feeling building. “Alone.”
She sucked in a breath, seemed taken aback. Looked at her friends, her gaze lingering on Lisa’s before she finally nodded her head and stood. “Sure.”
I led her over to a shadowy corner of the bar. An older couple sat nearby and were deeply involved in a conversation. Up on the stage, the band was getting ready to start another set. I figured I had less than five minutes before live country music drowned out my wedding proposal.
I studied her closely beneath the dim lights. Allowed my gaze to linger on the clean white skin of her forehead, on those eyebrows that arched above her glittering green eyes, on the small nose with its smattering of freckles. Let my attention drop to her rose-colored lips, which I saw were trembling slightly, and then down to her full breasts, which heaved with her quick breathing. She looked like a deer caught in headlights, poised to run, but afraid to move even a muscle.
“I have a proposition for you,” I told her.
Her back stiffened. Her eyes narrowed. “You think I’m just gonna fall into bed with you, the great Chase Wilder from Miami?” she asked, her voice wavering. Two spots of pink burned in her cheeks.
I realized I’d used the wrong words. “What I mean is,” I continued more slowly, “I have a business opportunity for you.”
She stepped back a little, cocked her head. Was she intrigued? Uncertain? Whatever the answer, with that one small step back, I felt her distancing herself from me, that the intimacy we’d had just moments before was falling to dust.
“Don’t leave,” I said impulsively.
“Why shouldn’t I?” Her back looked stiff again. She’d fallen back on anger.
I realized then that this anger thing of hers was a defense mechanism. It was how she kept men away--kept them from getting too close. Well, it wasn’t goi
ng to work this time. Not with me. “There’s a reason I play football,” I said. “I’m good on the gridiron, and I’m good at guessing where the ball’s going to go. I’m great at getting there before anyone else. But the one thing I’m not good at is words. So you’re going to have to give me a break, darlin’, and realize you’re talking to a big, strong guy who really likes you.”
I paused and assessed the effect of my defense, and saw that a look of puzzlement had come back into her eyes.
“Don’t call me darlin’,” she said, but her reply had no bite to it.
I pressed my advantage. “So, before I tell you my business proposition, I want you to know that I’m not looking to score with you and then go on my way. My brother Luke told me what you did for him, and I appreciate that. He told me about the hospital and the dogs. Now I want to do something for you. Something that will help us both.”
Her eyes widened briefly, then narrowed again. “What, exactly, are you talking about?”
“My brother Luke--”
“Yes, yes, I know Luke,” she cut in. “He’s a good guy. But what does this have to do with Luke?”
“Nothing,” I told her bluntly. “This is about you and me. I brought Luke up only because he’s the one who told me about you, and suggested you might be a good candidate.” I winced a little at my white lie about Luke, but as I said before, I’m good at getting what I want.
“Candidate for what?”
I paused. Here it was: the moment when I told her I needed her to marry me. But how to say it without it sounding like I was using her? Yeah, I was using her, but at some point during that kiss it had become more than just that.
“I’d like to help you out with that dog rescue you’re looking to build,” I ventured cautiously.
“What? Why?”
I shrugged. “I know you want it, and I know that a few of Grove’s finest are standing in the way of that. I can smooth it out for you.”
“But why would you do that? Because you’re grateful about me visiting Luke in the hospital?” Her voice dripped with disbelief.
“Well, I want something too.”
She put her hands on her hips. “Like what?”
“I need you to marry me,” I replied.
Her eyes widened and her lips made an “O” of pure shock.
“Just temporarily,” I quickly added.
She sputtered in reply.
“I’ll bet that doesn’t happen often.” I grinned despite myself.
She pressed a hand against her breasts and took deep breaths. I waited patiently for her to be able to speak again. Finally, she eyed me with a look that suggested I’d grown two heads. “You want me to marry you temporarily,” she managed. “Like I’m some kind of damned Russian bride or something.”
I winced at her tone, then moved closer and lowered my voice. “Not a Russian bride,” I insisted. “More like a business partner. If you promise me confidentiality, I’ll explain the situation to you.”
She nodded sharply.
“Thank you.” I took her arm, led her over to an open table not far from where we were standing, and steered her into a seat. I sat across from her. When the flirty blonde waitress headed in our direction, I shook my head and gave her a look that said back off. She promptly turned around and flounced back to the bar.
“So, you know I play professional football,” I started.
She nodded.
“And you know that even professional football players have to adhere to a code of conduct and not embarrass the team with bad behavior.”
“I’ve read about you. You’re no angel,” she muttered.
“That’s my problem. My agent thinks I need to get married and demonstrate that I’m ready to settle down--to show everyone that my wild days are behind me.”
She laughed, though there was little humor in it. “Imagine that, a man of your age being forced to act like an adult.”
“When you have fame and money, the rules are different,” I replied. “People treat you differently. You get away with more. Bad behavior is almost expected.”
She pressed her full lips together in a look that said she wasn’t even slightly in tune with me. “Tell me some more about this business proposal. How much are you offering, and what do I have to do, to earn it?”
“I’ll pay you one hundred thousand to marry me. Half up front, and half at the end.”
“At the end?”
“When we divorce.”
“Oh.” She chewed her lower lip. “What else?”
“You’ll have to give up your waitressing job and move to Miami with me. Live with me in my penthouse, to maintain appearances. And go to parties with me as my wife.” I hesitated, my gaze locking on her lips. “Of course, we’ll have to be close.”
“Close?”
“We need to convince everyone that we’re really a couple. That means we’re going to have to be intimate.” I checked her out as surreptitiously as possible, and imagined those gorgeous curves beneath my hot palms. Damn, she was beautiful. “You’re going to need to share the same bed with me.”
Her eyebrows shot up.
“I have a housekeeper. Friends visit,” I pointed out. “My agent comes over. No one’s going to believe we’re a couple if we sleep in separate bedrooms.”
“Is that so?”
“We have to make them believe we’re real.” I shrugged. “I have a California King bed. It’s like a boat. We can put a separator between us--a bunch of pillows.”
“Right.”
“I’m serious. We’ll be so far apart that you’ll practically have to text me to talk to me.”
She snorted with disbelief. “And how long is this little ‘business proposal’ going to last?”
“For a season or so. After the team’s re-signed me, and my contract’s secure, we can quietly divorce with no one the wiser. You’ll get your remaining fifty thousand, and can go on your way--no harm, no foul.”
“No harm, no foul,” she repeated.
“That’s what I’m saying.” I studied her hopefully. “What do you think?”
Chapter 8
Aubrey
It was the most insane thing that I’d ever heard of…
Preposterous.
Outrageous.
Absurd.
So, why wasn’t I telling Chase that? Why wasn’t I laughing hysterically in his face? Telling him that he had lost all his marbles?
Damn. Was it because of the money? Is that all it took for me to throw away all my scruples? $100,000?
One hundred thousand dollars. It would solve all my problems. I could pay off my debts and take care of my dogs with money to spare. How many backbreaking years of waitressing would it take me to save $100,000, while only paying the minimum interest amount on my overwhelming debts?
My mind was spinning. What had Chase called it?
A business deal. An agreement that mutually benefited us both.
Except it wasn’t just a business deal. It was marriage.
Marriage!
Chase wanted me to marry him. It was ridiculous.
The marriage would be completely legal – a sham, however, in that there was never any love behind it. It would be a marriage that was neatly terminated as soon as the terms of the contract were concluded. We would go our separate ways, each the better off for it.
The plan was morally bankrupt. I must be drunk to even think about considering it.
Marriage was a sacred institution. Getting married for the sole reason of preserving a football contract made a complete mockery of it. Getting married for cold hard cash was just as bad.
But what was so ethically deficient about marrying for money anyway? I had always hoped for a marriage based on love, but I was pragmatic enough to know that love wasn’t always enough.
My parent’s marriage hadn’t been the best example for me. My only memories from before their divorce were of them fighting. My mother had moved on to two other marriages since then, each time claiming to have found
the love of her life, and yet, she still wasn’t happy. My father had gone through a long string of girlfriends, vowing never to get married again. Alimony and child support had left him embittered of the entire notion of marriage. When his girlfriends would inevitably leave him after finally growing weary of waiting for a marriage proposal, he would find a new woman to fill their place within days. My father wasn’t looking for love; he was looking for a housekeeper.
“You’re actually serious about this, aren’t you?”
Chase was watching me intently. “Yes. Completely.”
“Don’t you think this seems a little bit extreme? Faking a marriage to save your contract?”
“Football is my life, so it’s worth it. Besides, what’s so hard about it? We get married. Show up at a few parties--a few charity events--together. Simple. And once my contract is renegotiated, we quietly get a divorce. Not a big deal.”
“Right, not a big deal.” A burst of laughter bubbled up from somewhere inside me and threatened to escape. “You must be crazy. You think marriage is no big deal? We barely even know each other.”
Chase smiled his devastating smile. “Well, we already know that we like each other, so that’s not an issue.”
It felt like the beer I had drunk had actually invaded my veins, smoothing out the rough edges of my thoughts and delivering a dull dose of fuzziness to my brain. “Stop joking. This would be a huge deal. I’d have to change my whole life. Miami. I’ve never been there, and I wouldn’t know a soul--”
“Miami is fantastic. White sand beaches, crystal clear blue water, palm trees everywhere, great night clubs, gorgeous women who are--um, friendly, yeah, nice people…”
“Uh huh.” I cocked an eyebrow at him. “I’m sure they’re very friendly.”
Chase continued describing Miami, but I was lost in thought. Of course I wasn’t going to accept his crazy offer, but the thought of doing something adventurous had taken root in my imagination. Except for a handful of trips, mostly to visit my parents, I hadn’t been very far from Grove that often. In fact, I’d never even been to the ocean before. The beach I was most familiar with was the tiny rocky patch of sand at Stanton Lake, thirty miles down the road. I would love to see some more of the world, but with my money problems, I didn’t foresee any travel plans in my future.