by Penny Reid
So I can propose marriage.
Acutely nauseous, I placed a hand over my stomach and walked out of the elevator doors as soon as they opened to the lobby. But then I stopped as soon as I saw who was standing at the security desk.
Dressed in all black, looking the definition of ruggedly gorgeous, was the man of my dreams. Literally.
It was Dan.
Dan the Security Man.
My façade slipped.
I did not appreciate his ability to discombobulate me by merely existing.
Daniel O’Malley was second in command at Cypher Systems and my . . . my . . . Honestly, I didn’t know how to describe him.
We’d almost had a thing, but I’d messed it up before anything real could happen. He was that guy. That guy I’d been successfully avoiding ever since I messed everything up. That guy I’d known for years and against whom all other men were compared.
Basically, I lusted him.
Before I’d ruined my chance, I used to frequently wish I were someone else. Anyone else. Maybe someone who’d grown up in a middle-class, two-parent household. With a family dog rather than a pack of German shepherd/wolf hybrids who ferociously guarded the gates of my grandparents’ compound in Duxbury.
And a mother who tucked me in at night with a kiss, rather than a billionaire heiress who hid me in the second attic in the east wing from the imaginary clown in her head for a week and a half when I was four.
And a father who took me to baseball games instead of having the house butler drop me off at boarding school when I was five and never visiting me. Or allowing me to go home to visit instead of me running away one too many times and being expelled.
But enough charming and hilarious anecdotes from my childhood, let’s talk about Dan.
As I looked at him, standing behind the lobby security desk talking to one of the guards, I hesitated. The call with Eugene had left me off-kilter.
The last time I was off-kilter and within Dan’s proximity, my brain had suggested topics like, Talk about the weather. My mouth had translated ‘weather’ to mean, hurricanes are a type of weather, let’s talk about death by drowning.
Did I want to interact with Dan while off-kilter?
No.
No, I did not.
But what choice did I have? It was almost noon. Eugene had been adamant, time was of the essence. Hurriedly, I made a mental list of subjects that were off limits—basically, anything gross, illegal, or morbid—and propelled myself forward.
Dan was scanning the crowd in the lobby as he talked to his subordinate and his stare passed over me once. He immediately did a double take and, unsurprisingly, I was ensnared.
My steps faltered. Through sheer force of will, I recovered. But not before the expected eruption of awareness in my stomach and tightness in my chest.
However, given my reason for being in the lobby—my mission to thwart Caleb’s attempts to have me committed for the rest of my life—disregarding the flustering sensations was relatively easy. Or maybe I was just getting really good at ignoring my emotions. Whatever. Either worked.
Time is of the essence. Steven. Marriage.
Dan stepped away from his employee and positioned himself at the edge of the high counter. Dark brown eyes—that always seemed alight with mischief—swept down and then up my person, as though conducting a quick assessment of my physical well-being. I ignored that too, determined to keep our interaction as perfunctory as possible.
But then he said, “What’s up, Kit-Kat?”
Oh.
Darn.
I gulped a large quantity of air at the unanticipated use of the old nickname, knowing I’d pay for it later. The price would be ruthless hiccups. But for now, the gulping swallows helped.
The way Dan twisted his mouth to the side lent him an air of amusement without actually smiling. He was adorable.
I hadn’t spoken to him in a long while. His chestnut hair was longer than its typical close cut and it was styled expertly, back and away from his forehead. Or maybe he’d been pulling his hands through it. Either way, it was an exceptionally good look for him.
We’d seen each other in passing, at Janie and Quinn’s apartment, in the lobby of this building, but this was the first time we’d traded words in six months. This was the first time he’d called me Kit-Kat in over two years, since before he started dating Tonya from accounting on the seventeenth floor.
“Sorry. Hi, Dan.” I gave him a tight smile. “Sorry. I just wanted to ask—”
Dan shifted closer and dipped his head, like he couldn’t hear me, and I caught a trace of cologne, just the faintest hint of something expensive and masculine. His new proximity set my heart racing. Inexplicably, I felt like crying.
But I didn’t. I wouldn’t. I never did.
Clearing my throat, I started again. “Sorry. I don’t mean to interrupt.”
His mouth did curve then, a slow spreading smile that usually would’ve made me forget what I was doing, because I loved this smile.
Dan didn’t have perfect teeth. They were a little crooked, like he’d never had braces, and maybe one or two had been cracked during a fight or while playing sports, and then capped. The dentist had done a great job with the repair work, but I suspected the reason Dan rarely showed his teeth when smiling was because he was self-conscious about it. That meant, when he did show teeth—like now—it was because he couldn’t help himself.
To me, his real smile was wholly genuine, devastatingly charming, and absolutely perfect.
Also perfect, his nose. It had been broken at least twice and was bent just slightly. His shoulders were also perfect, big and wide; how he moved paired with his stocky frame reminded me of a boxer, capable of both brute strength and remarkable grace.
His neck was also strong—but not in a disconcerting way—and provided the perfect pedestal for his exquisite jaw, which was perpetually shaded with a twelve o’clock shadow. Every so often, when he turned his head, I’d catch a tantalizing glimpse of swirling, black tattoos peeking out of his suit shirt.
But his lips . . .
No words could adequately describe the flawless beauty of his lips.
He was rugged everywhere that I could see, except for those lush lips.
I wanted to bite them.
“You’re not interrupting,” he said, gaze warm and a little lazy, eyelids at half-mast. Dan leaned closer, lowering his voice. “How can I help?”
Marry me.
Internally, I shrank from the unbidden thought. Holy wish fulfillment, Batman.
In the next moment, it occurred to me that Dan was recently single, having split from his longtime girlfriend—the aforementioned Tonya from accounting on the seventeenth floor—just two months ago.
When I’d first discovered they were dating, I’d been devastated and ate $47.31 worth of cheese in one sitting. While crying. I cried on my cheese. It was a sad day.
But when I’d discovered they’d split, I went home, did my laundry, did my homework, didn’t cry, and answered work emails while steadfastly refusing to obsess about it.
Presently, I was staring at him, unable to speak, as the idea solidified in my brain.
Marry me . . .
The dangerous notion dug its claws into my fragile yet safe plan and tore it to shreds. Shaking my head, I cursed myself for approaching Dan while I was like . . . this. Already feeling all the feelings, I was vulnerable and I hated feeling vulnerable.
Seeing Dan just compounded everything; it made me contemplate crazy, grasping-at-straws ideas. I should’ve waited until he was gone.
Not helping matters, with each beat of my heart the words chanted between my ears, Ask him. Ask him. Ask him. Ask him.
Dan’s grin waned after a time. And then, after more time, his grin reappeared. He was looking at me like he thought I was funny. Or cute. Or maybe both.
“Kat?”
“Yes?” The single word was strangled, but I was profoundly proud of myself for managing to say it.
Another flash of teeth framed by his alluring lips before asking gently, “How can I help?”
“Oh, sorry. I apologize. Thank you.” Stop apologizing. Stop. Apologizing.
Some people have curse jars.
I had a “sorry” jar.
I also had a “thank you” jar.
Believe it or not, I’d been much better over the past year, but—gah!—something about Dan made it worse. He was dangerous. His sexiness was a hazard. To my soul. I required distance.
Taking a full step backward, I unnecessarily tucked my hair behind my ears—one of my practiced maneuvers for stalling—and infused my tone with controlled aloofness. “Excuse me.”
At my withdrawal, Dan’s warm smile fell away and his eyes narrowed as they flickered over me, now assessing.
“I’m trying to get ahold of Steven,” I said, my voice now even.
“You called him?”
“He’s not answering his phone and now my cell is dead.” I took two deep breaths before continuing with renewed detachment, “I was hoping I could ask one of the guys to call his desk.”
“He’s at my place.” His tone was no longer gentle, but now impersonal and business-like, mimicking mine.
“Your place?”
Dan scratched his neck, glancing over my head. “He’s working from my place today. He’s watching Wally.”
“Oh.” An automatic smile tugged at my mouth. I couldn’t help it. Even in my present state of distress, the mere mention of Dan’s dog improved my mood. He had the world’s most adorable canine. A lab/terrier mix with expressive brown eyes, floppy ears, and short black fur—except for a white patch around his mouth that made him look like he was always smirking.
“Steven has been helping me out for the last month, working from my place a few days a week.” Dan pulled out his cell. “You wanna use my phone?”
“No, thank you. But I appreciate it.” I glanced over my shoulder, out the lobby doors to the street beyond, debating my options. I couldn’t ask Steven to marry me over the phone, and definitely not in front of Dan. It was a conversation that required an in-person meeting. “Thank you, but I’ll try to reach him later.”
Would later be too late?
“Or, you know, maybe bring him lunch.”
“Pardon me?” My eyes darted to his. “At your place?”
I’d never been in Dan’s apartment before. The urge to snoop would be strong, but I would overcome it. What I might not overcome was the desire to discover what brand of cologne he wore. Sniff it. Write it down. Buy it for . . . reasons.
“What’s wrong with my place?”
“Nothing at all. But, you don’t mind?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Why would I mind?” His voice rose, just a smidge, and his eyes seemed to harden.
“I don’t want to—”
“What?”
“Take advantage.”
“You never do.” Dan shrugged, but there was something odd about the gesture as well as his tone, a strange tension in his shoulders. Abruptly, he lowered his eyes to the marble floor, took a deep breath through his nose, and then lifted his chin once more. A new, fastidiously polite smile now in place, his gaze was cool and remote. “He’ll be there all day. If you want to talk to him in person, you should go.”
I hesitated.
“It’s no big deal.” He said these words softly, his gaze dropping to my hands, and that’s when I realized I’d been twisting my fingers. “Seems like you got something weighing you down.”
I balled my hands into fists and hid them behind my back, and then immediately felt like a dolt for doing so, especially when the number ten envelopes almost slipped from their place under my arm.
But I also managed to say, “Thank you. I appreciate it.”
Dan continued to inspect me, his eyes growing sharper. “Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to help?”
Again, the unbidden marry me whispered through my mind and I rolled my lips between my teeth, cutting off what I knew would be a small but hysterical-sounding laugh.
Shaking my head, I backed away. “No, thank you. No. Nope. Have a nice day.”
Turning from Dan, I power-walked back to the elevators and punched the button for the floor of my office. I needed my wallet. I needed to give Ms. Opal her envelopes and inform her that I had a family emergency, and let my junior administrative staff know I would be gone for the rest of the day.
Just before the elevator doors closed, I hiccupped. Loudly. Violently. Lifting my eyes as I covered my mouth, I found Dan watching me. He hadn’t moved from his spot by the desk, and a painful squeeze constricted my heart just before I hiccupped again.
A tempting but completely impractical thought whispered through my mind. Another, Why not?
This time, Why not Dan?
I sighed, leaning heavily against the wall of the lift, and rubbed my hairline where a tension headache was now forming.
Dan O’Malley was a good guy. A great guy. Because I avoided him, we hadn’t talked much, especially after what happened between us in Vegas.
But we’d known each other for over two years and he’d always been kind. He’d always taken great care of our overlapping circle of friends. He was the kind of guy who’d give someone in need the shirt off his back, and then offer a beer and a place to stay. If I asked him to help, there was a real chance he might agree. He was just that good.
And yet, a marriage of convenience to the man of my dreams?
That sounded like a nightmare.
Chapter Two
Marriage fraud: A marriage of convenience entered into purely for the purpose of gaining a benefit or other advantage arising from that status.
Wex Legal Dictionary
**Kat**
My violent hiccups persisted, even while waiting for and grabbing takeout from Steven’s favorite sushi restaurant; even while walking along the long stretch of North Michigan Avenue enjoying the summer sun; even while trying to come up with an alternative—any alternative—to marriage.
I’d held my breath several times. Likewise, several times, I’d been convinced the hiccups had passed, only for them to sneak up like a ninja and strike when least expected.
Unexpected hiccups were the worst, mostly because of their volume. My hiccups sounded like a shrill gasp if I wasn’t careful to keep my mouth closed. A few people eyeballed me as I walked, as though attempting to determine if I were in distress or just a weirdo making truncated shrieking sounds.
I supposed it was a mixture of both: I was in distress; I was a weirdo making truncated shrieking sounds.
Thankfully, my diaphragm decided to take a chill pill about two blocks from Dan’s apartment. Aside from the hiccups, the walk had been good for me, calming. Once I’d accepted my fate, that marriage was the most expedient and efficient answer to my conundrum, I’d prepared a speech, hoping it would help Steven make the right decision.
I had to ask, I didn’t feel I had a choice, but I didn’t want him to feel pressured.
Dan’s apartment building, which was owned by Cypher Systems, was situated in New East Side. The structure had views of Lake Michigan as well as the green space—including Millennium, Daley, and Grant Parks—all the way to the Field Museum to the south.
Because Quinn’s company owned the apartment building, and because he was particular about security, several employees and individuals associated with Cypher Systems also lived there.
For example, Cypher Systems provided the security detail for my friend Elizabeth’s famous comedian husband, Nico Moretti. Nico and Elizabeth lived in one of the penthouses. Janie and Quinn lived in the second penthouse on the same floor. Sandra—another member of my knitting group—and Alex—her hacker husband who worked for Quinn—lived on the floor below the penthouse level, the same floor as Dan and my friend Steven.
A very friendly doorman I recognized as Charles, who looked more like an MMA fighter than a doorman, grinned when I came into view. “Where is everyone meeting tonight?”
“What?” I stopped to converse with him; I had no way to enter the building without Charles opening the door.
“Isn’t your knitting group meeting tonight?”
“Oh. No. That’s on Tuesdays.”
“Right. That’s right.” Charles gripped the large door handle, waited a moment for it to scan his prints, and held the door open for me, winking as I walked past. “See you later, Kat.”
I gave him a polite nod, unable to stop myself from adding him to my list of potential marriage candidates.
Obviously, first I have to find out if he’s single.
Scrunching my face at myself, I struggled to shake off the desperate turn of my thoughts.
Once inside, I sent a short wave to Lawrence, the concierge—he’s married—and crossed to the elevators. Lawrence returned the greeting as he unlocked the controls. Soon I was on my way up to Dan’s floor, berating myself for fanatically cataloguing the relationship status of every person I encountered.
I practiced my speech on the short walk down the hall to Dan’s apartment, knocking on the door as I debated how much money I should offer Steven for his trouble. I wanted to pay him for his trouble—because it would be trouble—but I didn’t want to pay him so much it might unduly influence his decision one way or the other.
Ten million dollars might be too much, for example. I wanted Steven to marry me because he wanted to help and because he was freely willing to accept the trouble Caleb would rain upon us, not because of the money. I didn’t want him to feel trapped or coerced.
I resolved to call Eugene and ask his opinion regarding the appropriate dollar figure just as Steven opened the door.
“Kat.” He wore a surprised yet welcoming smile. “Are you here for me?”
“Yes. Dan said you were here.”
“You spoke to Dan?” Steven’s gray eyes widened with obvious expectation and excitement as he stepped back from the door, motioning me in. “Tell me everything.”