by Tara Leigh
I scowled. “That douchebag ex of hers—”
He interrupted. “Who cares about her ex? I want to know what’s going on with you two.”
I choked on my drink. “Gossiping like a girl, now? Living with a chick has clearly shaved off some of your testosterone.”
“Don’t gimme that. You’re the one mooning over that redhead like an abandoned puppy. Please tell me she’s taken pity on you, at least once.”
Heat rose above my collar. “It’s not like that.”
Skepticism transformed into a wide grin. “The hell it’s not. You were practically drooling at the beach this morning, and you were hungry all right, but not for food.”
“Aren’t you supposed to only have eyes for your wife?” I grumbled.
“I’m married, not myopic.” Tristan’s smile dropped, and he became serious again. “You know, I kind of thought you and Eva would wind up getting back together eventually.”
I turned away, plunging my free hand through my hair and tugging at the ends. “Why does everyone keep thinking that? She cheated on me with my own brother.”
“Maybe. But you’re here and he’s not. And I always thought there was something between you. Eva hasn’t been with anyone else, and you’ve been with everyone else.” He shrugged again. “I just figured you would wind up back together somehow.”
Tristan’s words came at me like the waves I was staring into, each one eroding the barrier I thought I’d constructed with brick and stone, which was now disintegrating like wet sand. Tristan was repeating what I wasn’t willing to admit, even to myself. The reason I’d filled my nights, but never my bed, with an endless stream of women was to keep me away from Eva. I didn’t want to get back together with her . . . but I hadn’t wanted to get attached to anyone else, either. Because I’d believed that somehow, someway, we’d end up together.
Until Nixie came along and showed me how it felt to want someone so badly, I was damn near paralyzed by it. “No. Not gonna happen.”
Tristan looked at me strangely. “So why the reluctance with Nixie? Is it her ex?”
I forced down the well of jealousy that rose whenever I thought about another man coming near Nixie. “He’s a creep, but that’s not the issue.” I took a deep breath, exhaled it slowly. “When you and Reina got together, did everything just fall into place?”
Tristan cracked a laugh. “No. Not by a long shot. There were roadblocks and detours, and a few times I was sure we’d crashed and burned. But in the end, it was all worth it.”
Silence crept in, each of us in our own heads. Mine was buzzing from alcohol and mounting frustration at not seeing a way through the bullshit littering the path between Nixie and me.
“Hey, Nash,” Eva yelled from inside the house. “Come in here. I have an idea.”
Rolling my shoulders to release the tension knifing through them, I set down my empty glass before Tristan could fill it again, and walked through the open doors.
Eva and Celeste looked like they were ready to burst, and Nixie was pale beneath her newly acquired Caribbean tan. “It’s a biggie,” Celeste added.
I planted my feet just inside the threshold. “What—”
Eva couldn’t wait. “You and Nixie are getting married!”
Nixie
I looked down at my wine glass, wondering if it had been laced with a hallucinogen. It looked fine. I picked it up and brought the rim to my nose, took a tentative sniff. Was there some way to know without sending it to a lab?
Or maybe I’d been dropped into an alternate universe.
Setting the goblet down on a table scattered with the remains of a leisurely meal—Celeste had waved off the staff when they attempted to clean up, insisting that they head home to take the rest of the day off after spending most of it cooking and serving—my eyes were drawn to Nash. Silhouetted by the open doorway, a neon pink sun just beginning to droop toward the horizon and casting the picture perfect seascape in a dreamy bath of soft light, I could only assume that his incredulous expression mirrored my own.
Tristan came up behind him and clapped a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Looks like we don’t even have to be in the room for major life decisions. Who knew?” He ambled over to his wife and planted a kiss on her lips, his hand curving possessively around her rounded belly. “Glad there are at least a few things you still need me for.”
Celeste scrunched her nose. “Seriously, you two, I was hoping you might dial it down a notch now that you’re almost parents. The rest of us are getting a toothache just being near you.”
Pulling my gaze from Nash, I turned toward Eva and just barely caught the look of naked envy she was giving Reina. She covered it quickly, but I know what I saw. Eva was a wonderful mother, but being a single parent, to twins no less, had to take a toll on her. She shushed Celeste. “Don’t listen to her. That baby in there is one lucky little boy.”
Reina gave a contented smile. “Thank you, Eva.”
Nash cleared his throat from the other side of the room, rocking back on his heels as he crossed his arms. “Is there any point in discussing the bomb you just dropped or can we chalk it up to too much turkey?”
“What’s there to discuss? If you two get married, Nixie won’t have to spend the next ten months on the run from an ex who wants to marry her to access her trust fund. I can’t believe you didn’t think of it yourselves.”
From the look on Nash’s face, it was clear he would never have come up with the idea on his own. Neither would I. “Eva, that’s really sweet, but I don’t think—”
“You’re not worried Nash would be after your money too, right?”
I shook my head. “No, of course not.” What I had was crumbs compared to Nash’s wealth.
Eva refilled her empty glass, some of the white wine spilling onto the delicate lace tablecloth. Eva didn’t notice, but I couldn’t take my eyes off the growing damp spot, curling my hands into fists to keep from attacking it with my napkin. “With all the lawyers Nash has on staff, I’m sure he could have a pre-nup drawn up in no time. And when you get divorced, you’d both walk away with whatever you brought in.”
“So, not only do you have us getting married, you’re already planning our divorce?” Nash’s voice was curt, abrasive.
“Hey, it’s not called a marriage of convenience for nothing. You get married, Nixie gets to fulfill the terms of her parents’ will, and her jerk of an ex will realize he’s never going to get his hands on her money and can slink off to find another woman with deep pockets. It’s a win/win.”
I swallowed the knot of unease that had lodged itself in my throat. “Eva, I really don’t think marriage is the solution to my problem.”
Celeste giggled. “It works for kings and queens, why not a Knight?”
Tristan lifted one of the bottles on the table and peered through the tinted glass.” Jesus, how many of these have you gone through?”
“Too many,” Eva admitted. “But I’m serious. It’s a good idea, and not just for Nixie. Who knows, maybe Nash will find it easier to commit to a second marriage if he’s already been down the aisle.”
I nearly choked. Forget about our wedding and divorce, Eva was already planning Nash’s second marriage? A shot of jealousy penetrated my stomach and exploded inside me, the turkey dinner I’d eaten threatening to revolt. On the other side of the table Nash was as still as a block of granite, directing a glare at Eva so intense I half expected her to melt. She didn’t, though. Her stare was just as heated. I looked back and forth between them, knowing there was an entire conversation going on that none of us were privy to, and wondering what it was.
“Nash will walk down the aisle when he’s good and ready, and not before.” Speaking in the third person, his tone was clipped.
“Fine.” Eva shrugged. “I highly doubt we could have convinced Nixie to marry you either. Celeste, why don’t we ask your brother?”
“Bryce? Honestly, it’s not a bad idea. His coach has been on him to settle down and stop pissing off the
team’s sponsors.”
“Show Nixie his picture,” Eva directed Celeste before turning back to me. “The wedding is only for show, of course. But if you wanted to take advantage of your temporary husband, Bryce wouldn’t exactly be a cross to bear.” I choked on the arguments sticking in my throat, unable to get even one of them out. There had to be something in the wine. Had to be.
Celeste slid her phone across the table at me. “He’s my brother so I think he looks like a troll, but I’ve heard I’m in the minority.”
No way was I reaching for the phone. I wasn’t marrying anyone, let alone a man I’d never even met. And even having this discussion in the same room as a man I’d actually had sex with was giving me anxiety.
“Nixie is not marrying Bryce.” Nash was squinting at the phone like it was on fire.
“He’s a good guy. A total player, of course, which is what has some of the team’s sponsors up in arms. But—”
Nash cut Eva off. “Not happening.”
I wanted to interrupt, but my throat felt like it was closing.
She didn’t back down. “You hardly have a say in this, Nash. It’s up to Bryce and Nixie. A fake wedding is the simplest solution for Nixie, and a wife would be good for Bryce’s image, too.”
Nash crossed his arms, the knot of his Adam’s apple bobbing low. “If anyone’s going to marry Nixie, it’s going to be me.”
A frown creased my forehead as I finally found my voice. “I think we need to chalk this conversation up to too much wine and sunshine.” I stood, pushing back my chair and gathering up plates and empty glasses.
Nash’s voice stopped me before I left the room. “Eva’s right. We should have the biggest wedding Wall Street’s ever seen.”
I swiveled, the nerves in my spine shuddering. “Have you lost your mind?”
“Not at all. I hate to say it, but a wedding is the most painless way to get rid of Derrick.”
Painless for who? I wasn’t opposed to marriage. In fact, I liked the idea of finding that one perfect person and building a life together. When I found him, I have no doubt I’d be overjoyed at the prospect. But this, what Eva and Celeste—and now Nash—were proposing, it was in insult to what should be a serious, well-intentioned commitment between two people who loved each other.
Rather than sound like a sentimental fool, I reached for levity. “The seventeen hundreds are calling, they want their wedding back.”
Pale olive eyes bore down on me. “Now that he knows where you live, Derrick is going to be the one calling. And stalking. And chasing. If he really needs the money, you’re not safe.”
Reina stood, quickly followed by Tristan. “I think we should let the two of you work this out.” There was a chorus of agreement, and a minute later it was just Nash and me in the room. I dropped back into my chair and he took the seat opposite me. The man was the reason lust was invented for God’s sake. I could barely look at him without wanting to jump into his arms . . . but marry him? Gorgeous, successful, rich—it would hardly be a marriage of equals.
Leveling me with a fierce stare well-honed by sparring with Wall Street heavy hitters on a daily basis, Nash clasped his hands together. “I have the means to dig into the Attwoods’ business and completely destroy—”
“I already told you that my father built that company. You’re not destroying it just because of Derrick.”
“Fine. I can kick Derrick’s ass, tell him if he comes anywhere near you there will—”
I recoiled. “You are not hurting him, Nash. Until recently, Derrick and his father have been nothing but nice to me. They took me in when I had nothing and no one. Your fists of fury had better stay in your pockets.”
Those dark, winged eyebrows climbed up his forehead. “Fists of fury?”
I shrugged. “I might have watched a few too many WWE fights growing up in a house with two guys.”
“So you won’t let me touch Derrick, or his father’s company.” He sighed. “I hate to admit that Eva’s right, but a temporary marriage would solve the issue. Think about it—we could eliminate your problem with one piece of paper.”
This was not exactly how I imagined my future husband proposing. “How temporary?”
“A few months, maybe a year. Long enough for the executor of your parents’ will to hand over all monies due you and set up accounts Derrick can’t possibly get his hands on.”
Skepticism was a weighted vest pressing on my shoulders. “What would you get out if this?” I asked, cocking my head to the side and narrowing wary eyes.
Nash’s chiseled jaw clenched, a vein pulsing at his temple. “What would I get out of this?” he repeated.
“Yes. You barely know me. We slept together one time. Is that what you’re looking for—a convenient lay?”
The nostrils of his aristocratic nose flared in distaste, his eyes glinting at me like shattered bits of sea glass. “Absolutely not. If you want a marriage in name only, you’ve got it.”
The idea of never sleeping with Nash again blared like a fog horn between my ears, disorienting and painful. Shaking it off, I pressed further. “But why? Why are you going out of your way for me?”
“Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to look a gift horse in the mouth?”
My gaze dropped to Nash’s full lips, remembering with a flush exactly where they’d been, what they’d done. How good they had felt. That mouth was a gift, all right. Stop it, Nixie. Focus. “Yeah. But I’ve always preferred the phrase, ‘better the devil you know than the devil you don’t.’”
The taut corners of Nash’s mouth relaxed just a bit, pulling just slightly upward. “Sometimes a little knowledge can be a dangerous thing.”
Digging in my heels, I parried. “Maybe so. But what if I’m leery of jumping from the frying pan into the fire?”
Not surprisingly, he returned it easily. “Why not kill two birds with one stone?”
“Because the road to hell is paved with good intentions.”
Nash released a chuckle that was probably the best reason for marriage he could have given me. “We can trade overused idioms all day, but it won’t change anything. As soon as we get back to New York, you’re going to be looking over your shoulder every minute. That’s no way to live. Not when you have another option.”
I hated not knowing what Nash’s motivation was, but I couldn’t deny the truth of his words. “I’ll think about it.”
Crazy must be contagious.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Nixie
Heaving myself into a seated position, I groaned as I swung my feet over the side of the mattress. Had last night really happened?
Outside, it was yet another gorgeous day in paradise. As I stared out at the long stretch of pristine beach I saw Nash jog across the sand, heading away from the house. Might as well go downstairs now, while he was gone. I wasn’t quite ready to face him yet.
The house was unusually quiet as I took a seat at the round table in the cozy breakfast room. Sipping a cup of coffee, I was tempted to believe that last night had never happened.
And . . . a little bit sad, too. What would it be like to call a man like Nash Knight my husband?
I hadn’t been around very many married couples, not since I lived with my parents. Pappi never remarried, never brought anyone serious back to the house. But from what I remember, my parents liked being around each other. I was forever trying to squeeze in between them, either on the couch or on lazy weekend mornings in bed. In a way, spending the past few days with Tristan and Reina had been slightly bittersweet. They were always touching, whether holding hands or merely being close enough that their shoulders rubbed. It was obvious that they were completely crazy about each other, and just being around them warmed my soul. On the other hand, they also made me long for that kind of intimacy.
But that wasn’t what Nash was proposing. Or what Eva had proposed. Jesus—who proposed to whom? I put my mug down and brought my hands to my face, groaning. Maybe last night had just been a strange dream broug
ht on by too much wine.
“Good morning.”
I lifted my head and took my hands away from my face, the sight of Eva in a bikini top and sarong, her long dark hair swooshing against her back as she glided into the room, almost too much to take. The woman was a genuine brunette Barbie. “Good morning.”
She spooned eggs and fruit onto her plate from the platters that had been arranged on the sideboard, and joined me at the table. “We had quite the lively discussion last night, didn’t we?”
I blinked slowly, taken off guard that Eva was so quick to dive right back in. “I think I’m still processing it, myself. So—” I cleared my throat. “Where are Parker and Madison?”
“Believe it or not, they’re still sleeping.” Eva speared a bite of pineapple and chewed thoughtfully. “If staying here means they sleep past seven, I might just have to move in.”
I laughed, pushing my food around my plate. I hadn’t been very hungry to begin with, and now what little appetite I had was gone. “Is everyone else still sleeping, too?”
“I think Nash went for a run on the beach already, but other than that, I think so.”
“Oh.” Sober, and with no one else at the table to act as a buffer, there was an edge of tension between us.
“Nixie, can I ask you something?”
I looked up, trying not to appear as wary as I felt. “Sure.”
“What is it that you want from Nash?”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m sorry. It’s just that last night, everything seemed so clear cut. But now I’ve had the night to sleep on it and I wanted to get a sense of your expectations, I guess.”
“My expectations?” I repeated Eva’s words back to her, my tongue feeling unwieldy and swollen in my mouth.
“Yes. I’ve known Nash a long time and . . . well, he’s been different lately, and I’m wondering if that difference is because of you.”
My jaw sagged as I considered her question. “I don’t know about that,” I finally said, speaking slowly. “But as for expectations, I don’t have any. And I certainly don’t expect him to marry me. I mean, that came from way out of left field.”