Bargaining with the Bride

by Gatta, Allison

  Apparently, that would be enough bonding for one day.

  "So...what happens now?" She raised her eyebrows.

  "I thought I'd make dinner."

  "No, I meant, like... You don't plan on sleeping in my bed or anything, right?"

  Why hadn't he thought of that? Sure, having him and the dog would have been stress enough on her, but those kinds of arrangements?

  Ugh, he was such an idiot.

  "No, no. I'll sleep on the couch."

  "Except for when you come up every hour on the hour to monitor my sleep positions?"

  "Exactly."

  She nodded, a half smile tilting her lips, "I kind of liked the dog."

  "I kind of knew you would."

  "And I like of liked you helping me today."

  "Oh yeah?" He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorframe. From this distance, with her legs pulled up against her chest like that, he could almost see the triangle of her panties between her thighs. He tried his best not to look, but the more he tried to focus away, the more it called to his attention.

  "It was...nice."

  "Yeah, it was for me too."

  He smiled briefly, and then stepped into the kitchen to uncork a bottle of wine. Hopefully, by the time he revisited the living room, her feet would be on the ground and his head would be on his shoulders again.

  Tonight, they were going to toast to a very unusual bargain.

  8

  When Garret got home, bearing Chinese and an industrial bottle of Pinot, it was to find Rachael lounging in one of the wooden kitchen chairs, her drawn face lit only by the harsh light of her computer screen. He stood in the doorframe for a moment, surveying the way her pretty mouth scrunched up at whatever she was reading and the way one of her delicate feet absentmindedly pet Tesla under the table.

  Repressing an internal sigh, he wondered for the millionth time what he was going to do about her.

  If he was honest with himself, it wasn’t just the fact that she’d been glued in front of her computer from morning till night that worried him, though that was no small concern. He had to do something about her. Or, more accurately, about the fact that her feelings worried him so much. This was only a business deal. There was no reason for him to be going to bed, wondering what she was thinking in the next room. What she was wearing. If she was wearing anything at all…

  Rachael sighed, and he took it as a sign to flick on the light. With a start, she stared around for him, the serious scowl on her face replaced with a wan smile instead.

  “Hey there,” she sounded tired. Had she not been sleeping? He should…

  No. He shouldn’t do anything. It was none of his business what she did.

  “Hey. I picked up dinner. I got a bottle too, but,” He paused and nodded toward the empty glass beside her laptop. “Maybe it’d be better to save that for another night?”

  She followed his gaze and then shook her head. “That? No, I was going to pour a glass, but I got distracted. Wine would be great. Welcome, even.”

  She snagged her glass from the table, carefully avoiding Tesla who was, as always, underfoot. Garret bit back a smile, remembering how Rachael had yelped the first time she’d seen her furry familiar. Now, he hardly ever saw the two of them apart. In fact, if Rachael was home, the pug barely bothered to move to greet Garret anymore.

  As Garret began unpacking the overstuffed white cartons from the brown paper bag, Rachael got out a second wine glass and filled them both nearly to the brim.

  “What made you think to get dinner?” she asked.

  Because you’ve seemed upset…

  He couldn’t tell her that. He was her friend, sure, but it still seemed strangely intimate to admit. He certainly couldn’t admit that he’d called every restaurant in the area trying to get a meatloaf for take out before settling on Chinese.

  Instead, he shrugged and said, “I had a craving.”

  “Works for me.” She slid the container of pork-fried rice toward her, then opened a drawer and placed two forks on the marble counter. After popping her container open, she frowned and asked, “You’re the kind of guy who eats his Chinese on plates, aren’t you?”

  “I am.” He picked up his own utensil, and then added, “but I’m flexible.”

  She smiled, the first genuine smile he’d seen all week, and he lost the battle not to smile back.

  He picked up his spicy beef and broccoli and followed her to the table. “So what’s with the stressed-out face?”

  “Oh that’s just my face.”

  “Come on,” he prompted.

  She sighed, “My mother finally responded to the e-mail we wrote her. She said she wished she was more surprised, that she never liked Lance, and that she wonders if I’m ready for a commitment like marriage.” She pushed her food aside and took a long sip from her glass. “Nothing is ever easy, is it?”

  “No. But the good news is you don’t have to go back there.”

  She tilted her mouth to the side. “I guess so. And once the wedding is over, Eliza will be here.”

  “And you can tell her all about your sham marriage.”

  “She’ll love it. It’ll be like the parental revenge she always wanted.” Rachael chuckled.

  For a moment, they ate in silence and all the while Garret wondered at what to say. He could tell her that her parents didn’t matter and, really, neither did the wedding. That she shouldn’t let these things and these people bring her down.

  That he hated to see her full lips frowning.

  “I’ve been wondering about something,” her voice broke through his thoughts.

  “Yeah?”

  “Why did it mean so much for you to keep me around?”

  He blinked. In truth, he’d spent most of the week wondering that same thing. At first, he’d thought it had been because she was a great worker. The perfect solution to his research problem with Matchware. But then, when he was here around the office…

  Lately, it felt like he spoke to her less and watched her more. Like whenever she strode between the cubicles, his gaze was fastened on the way her body moved. The way she looked in her hip-hugging skirts.

  “Who else would put up with me?” He smiled, surprised to find how suddenly dry his throat had become.

  “Well, I just want you to know I appreciate it. I mean, the moving in here things was weird. And the dog has been…a struggle. But I’m glad.”

  Her soft palm clasped the top of his hand and the warmth there spread through the whole of his body. In that instant, staring into her dark eyes, he thought again of his first morning here. Her barely-there pajamas…

  Those damn tight skirts…

  This was wrong. He’d spent every second of the last week convincing himself as much. Six times, he'd poured over his employee handbook. He'd looked through every version of every human resources guide for the company. There were no loopholes. No way for them to legitimize any kind of entanglement.

  But that did nothing to change the fact that his tongue felt slick inside his mouth, his teeth itching to rip the tight fabric of her shirt away and expose the flesh beneath. To lick what he found there until she begged for more of him. And it would be practically effortless to hoist her onto those counter tops and take command of her supple body.

  He took a deep breath.

  As if she could hear his thoughts, she ran the tip of her sweet pink tongue over her top lip. A slight concern etched her delicate features, but there was something more than that…curiosity. She was testing him.

  And without saying a word, he knew by the surge of need in his groin that he was failing miserably.

  "Rachael," he said her name simply. A toneless prompt for an answer. He didn't allow the longing he already felt it pressing into his veins to escape his lips.

  "What?” Those luscious lips puckered as she sipped her wine, a little splash dripping down the side of the cup. His head was screaming for her not to do it, not to tempt him, but she knew what she was doing. Her pin
k tongue lapped the side of the cup, trailing the drop with slow, accurate grace, and as she returned to her regular stance, the tip of her tongue traced the curve of her full, upper lip, leaving it glossy, inviting, and oh so red.

  He needed her for his business. A million people had come and gone after trying to hold her position, each claiming that the hours and requirements were too demanding. He'd offered everything he could think of, but nobody was even competent enough to merit any of the opportunities he'd strung in front of them.

  That is, no one but the barely clothed woman practically splaying herself open in front of him.

  She was a perfect employee. Determined, committed, intelligent.

  And sexy.

  He'd kept his opinions on her looks strictly professional, of course. But it didn't hurt that when he'd stayed until the wee hours of the morning, the flushed, weary face across from him was more than easy on the eyes. And funny. And charming.

  Her work clothes never highlighted her the narrow waist or angular contour of her collar. The collar that still peaked out from the thin straps of her tank top. The collar that curved into the long, elegant neck. That neck that looked like it had been kissed the way it should have been for a very long time.

  This whole thing had been stupid. A stupid thing to agree to. But he couldn't turn down the challenge of it…

  It hadn't been to see her so vulnerable. No, it had been to help a friend.

  But the kiss they'd shared had been so electric that he could never look at her again without seeing all the sensuality he'd been so desperately trying to avoid. Even if she was in a tent he was sure his cock would still be aching to feel her. Even if her entire body was cloaked in a blanket.

  Ina shapeless blanket with nothing else…just that thin, soft white skin entirely naked beneath it.

  Blood thundered in his ears, and suddenly this huge effort to throw caution to the wind and ignore everything else seemed like the only remaining option. After that kiss, there would be no putting the horse back in the barn. There would be no pretending that every time he'd closed his eyes to sleep, he hadn't imagined pulling her clothes off one piece at a time until she was open and willing and all his. On her sofa. In his car. On top of his desk. All his.

  He swallowed hard, nearly wincing as his cock swelled against him again with another surge of need. She's set her wine on the counter beside her and was crossing her arms over her chest, unintentionally squeezing her breasts together and enhancing her already impressive cleavage.

  "Kiss me." It was practically a whisper, but it carried across the room like a dart, his pulse quickening as he returned to the image of her naked body beneath impossibly thin, white sheets.

  Thin just like her tattered tank top. So easy to rip. It would only take one quick, solid movement to liberate her perfect breasts, to take them is his hands. To massage them. To kiss each peak.

  The silence between them was palpable, each moment tracked only by the pulse he was sure pounded in both of their veins. Sh stopped swinging her feet against the counter, and instead sat unmoving, her arms still supporting her as she leaned against the back splash. They stared at each other, and he watched as the sweet pink color of her cheeks painted the delicate skin of her neck, and crept lower, to places he couldn't see.

  She bit her bottom lip slowly, releasing the supple pink petal only to run her tongue across it. Almost imperceptibly, she nodded. Once. Twice.

  His feet moved without his consent. Slowly at first, but then he was sprinting, making his way across the room in only a few strides.

  His palm cupped the back of her neck and he crushed her mouth against his, smashing his own lips into hers with a fierce command.

  It occurred to him that she might protest, but just as he was about to ease away, her fingers grasped at his hips. She used his body as an anchor to pull herself toward him, pressing her hot core to his own. Inviting him to rip away what little barrier there was between them.

  "Rachael?" He breathed between demanding, passionate kisses.

  "Yeah?" She voice had become something between a moan and a purr, and the sound make his hands twitch to explore her further, to silence whatever conversation couldn't be made physically. But this was important. It needed to be said. They'd already gone this far.

  "How much do you like this shirt?"

  She pulled back for a moment, eying him with a playful expression. Her lips glistened, redder and more inviting than they'd even been before.

  "Not enough to say no."

  She leaned back, and with one satisfying rip, the tank was mere shreds in his hand. Her full, firm breasts perfectly displayed before him.

  But staring at the scraps of fabric, he realized a few things.

  First, ripping a shirt was harder than it had seemed in his fantasies.

  Second, he did not at all care what his employee handbook had to say.

  Third, and most importantly, her body was more perfect than he could ever have imagined.

  * * *

  The counter was cold, and so was the kitchen. Or, at least, that's what logic told her. In the heat of the moment, though, her body knew no sensation other than hot, burning lust. Fire licked at every nerve in her body, and her need had risen so much that it was nearly impossible to breathe. She knew nothing, nothing at all, except that Garret was there, the remnants of what had once been her favorite tank top in his hands, and she wanted to be taken hard and fast by the sexiest guy she'd ever known.

  She didn't bother to ask before she yanked his shirt from over head, pressing her chest against his so that their bodies were completely flush with each other. It all felt strangely…right.

  As his fingers worked the straps of her bra, she traced the length of his neck with her tongue. She smiled against his skin, enjoying the steady pick up for his heartbeat as it thrummed beneath her lips.

  So close, so perfect…

  And then it all went to shit.

  9

  At first, he didn't realize what happened. All he knew was that his mouth had been on Rachael at last, taking in her sweet, pale skin...

  And then the entire world exploded into sound and chaos.

  Rachael leapt from the counter, forcing him to clamp down on his own tongue as she sprinted for the opposite side of the room. He turned to call to her and ask what the hell had come over her, when he finally registered the sounds of Tesla's panicked yells. The tiny pug was crooning and racing for the front door like his long lost herd had rediscovered him at last.

  "What the—" He started, but cut himself off when one finally sound carried through the spacious kitchen, vacant and definitely audible.

  The chime of the front door opening.

  He grabbed his shirt from where it pooled at his feet and stared around for Rachael again. Apparently, she'd heard the bell too, because she'd shoved herself in her tiny pantry and was in the process of closing the door from the inside when he finally spotted her.

  "Did you invite someone?" He whispered.

  "No—"

  "You'd think after so many episodes of dateline you wouldn't hide your key under the mat. Seriously, that's serial killer 101." A voice, not unlike Rachael's sultry tones, called from the foyer, growing louder as the sentence went on.

  "Shit. My sister. Distract her so I can get upstairs," Rachael hisse, and then creaked the door closed just as the voice rounded the corner into the room.

  "Isn't anyone ho—well, hello there." The woman offered Garret a wide smile and jutted her hip out so as to lean against the wall.

  If he didn't know for a fact that this was Rachael's sister, he might never have believed it. Sure, they had the same sort of heart-shaped face, but that was where the comparison stopped. Where Rachael was thin and angular, her sister was all curves. Where Rachael's hair was richly dark and curly, her sister partially obscured her stick-straight dark locks with caramel highlight. They were opposites in every way, including the easy smile that rested lazily on the woman's face.

  "Ni
ce to meet you," Garret said as he crossed the room with an outstretched arm. "You must be Rachael's sister."

  "Eliza, the one and only." She took his hand in a surprisingly firm grip, and then used the hold to pull him into a hug. "You're the man in my big sister's life?"

  "That I am." He cleared his throat, trying to figure out the best way to clear a path for Rachael. He couldn't hear her, but he felt as though her frustration weighed down the air around him. If they stayed in the kitchen another second longer, he was sure Eliza's spidey senses would tingle or something and she's find her half-naked sister in the closet.

  "Were these changes yours?" She gestured around to the kitchen. "Last time I was here the place was a—" she paused, then crouched down to the floor and came up with the tatters of her sister's shirt, a half-smile still perched on her face.

  "That's Tesla's work." Garret nodded toward the pug, who had apparently had enough excitement for one day and was already working on his evening nap beneath the table.

  "Tesla, huh? That's got to be your doing, too. Rachael's not exactly the dog type. Or the cat type. Or the fish type." She laughed. "Speaking of which, where is she?"

  He wracked his brain for an answer, but before he could find one, he heard a faint sneeze from the pantry.

  Shit.

  He glanced toward Eliza to see if she’d noticed, but she was too busy petting a very disinterested Tesla.

  “Rachael is upstairs, uh…” He stared around the kitchen, hoping that some golden opportunity would stare him in the face. All he found, though, were some left over cartons of Chinese food and a whole bunch of nothing else. “Changing. She spilled food on herself. You know Rachael, world-class klutz.”

  “I don’t know that Rachael, but I’d be interested to see it,” Eliza smiled.

  Strike two. One more slip up like that, and they’d both be caught.

  Then, as if his heart rate wasn’t already reaching world-record heights, Eliza added, “I’ll be even more interested to see what my parents have to say.”