The Marriage Agenda

by Sarah Ballance

  He dropped his head and found himself nuzzling the impossibly sexy hollow of her neck. They took ragged gasps in unison, his rewarding him with the scent of that melon shampoo he hadn’t been able to forget. In the cozy comfort of her arms, their bodies still joined, he felt the sort of good a man like him had no right to feel. He hadn’t exactly been honest with her about his intentions, but he sure as hell hadn’t intended this. Wanted, maybe, but planned? Never. Chloe wasn’t a casual sex kind of woman. She believed in love and forever, and clearly some misguided part of her still believed in him. But that belief wouldn’t last. Not once she learned he’d set her up—and not for romance.

  All of his parts were either numb or made of gelatin, but through the post-coital haze, he realized falling off the bed was the least of his problems. He’d left one very important item off his to-do list, and it had everything to do with the soft, willing woman trailing her fingers in lazy circles through his hair and a proposition that would end it all.

  Fuck, but he was screwed.

  Chapter Four

  Chloe had forgotten her getaway.

  Rather than taking off in the middle of the night as planned, she awoke to the intoxicating scents of fresh air, coffee, and…bacon? She squinted against the bright light of day and saw Knox, pacing back and forth through morning sunbeams like some sort of ethereal god. His dark hair was wet, and he was dressed in a clean pair of khakis, the crease crisp enough to throw a shadow. He wore a white dress shirt—buttons intact, cuffs undone—and held a phone to his ear, though he’d said nothing into it in the few seconds her attention had been glued to his form. When a light breeze kicked through the open balcony doors, it carried with it a citrusy scent so enticing, she took a deep breath and feasted on it.

  Knox finally looked her way. In lieu of a warm, world-thoroughly-rocked smile, he nodded toward a tray set up beside the bed, then looked away. Suddenly self-conscious, she drew the sheet to cover her nakedness and removed the gleaming silver dome from the platter. Though she indeed found copious amounts of bacon, the “wow” didn’t stop there. Mounds of fresh fruit lounged beside a trio of crepes bursting with strawberries and—she poked a finger in the luscious white filling for a taste—mascarpone cream. Beside the tray, a carafe promised hot coffee, and next to it, in miniature detail, an elegant creamer decanter delivered the means to turn the coffee her favored milky white.

  For a man who would barely look at her, he’d sure pulled out all the stops.

  She helped herself to a little of everything and watched him as she ate, naked as a featherless jaybird but for the sheet. Her dress, she noted, lay ruined in a ball against the baseboard where he’d flung it. Goose bumps singed her flesh at the memory.

  “Are you cold?”

  Startled, she jumped, sending a forkful of mascarpone plunging to her chest. When she looked at him, his gaze was pegged decidedly south of her eyes, but then he cleared his throat and turned away.

  Not awkward at all. She swiped the mess with a finger and wiped it on one of the cloth napkins beside the breakfast tray.

  “I thought you might like some fresh clothing,” he said. “So I had something delivered.”

  “Thank you.” She tried to infuse some enthusiasm in the words, but it didn’t work. This dynamic was new to her. Knox, when he wasn’t tearing through her clothes with his teeth or feeding her lame breakup lines, was a pretty happy, playful guy. This version left her feeling as if she’d just had a one-night stand with a brooding stranger, and she’d seen enough made-for-TV movies to know he’d cued her exit with that whole no-eye-contact thing. What was breakfast—a white flag to abate any hard feelings? Damn him.

  Wordlessly, she untangled the king-size sheet they’d somehow twisted into a knot and, using it as a robe, headed for the bathroom. Three strides into her journey, Knox was in front of her. “What?” she asked.

  Her hard tone didn’t seem to faze him. He reached for her with both hands, threading her hair and pulling her mouth to his in a tender kiss that turned her knees to mush. “We’ll talk when you’re dressed,” he said.

  There it was. We need to talk. When were those words ever a harbinger of good fortune? As it was, they took the goo right out of the smooch and ruined any harbored hopes of relaxing in the shower. She dropped the sheet in retaliation and headed for the bathroom au natural, feeling his eyes on her the whole way.

  Thirty minutes later, she’d lathered her way through an entire hotel-size bottle of almond-milk soap and slipped into a pretty blue sundress. He had replaced her ruined underwear—a tidbit the gossip columnists would have for breakfast if the courier talked—and even offered her a comfortable pair of sandals. Upon discovery of the latter, her earlier grievance faded. Any man who thought to rescue her from those god-awful high heels could be forgiven just about anything.

  She emerged from the bathroom feeling like a new woman.

  Knox looked up from his seat at the table and snapped shut his laptop. “How’s the dress?”

  She sat across from him, her mood considerably lightened when she saw the stark-raving approval in his eyes. “It’s fantastic.”

  “I tend to agree,” he said.

  Doubts rallied. In spite of the amazing sex, she’d managed to keep her brain ahead of her emotions. She faced him now bleakly dismissive—not because he didn’t thoroughly rock her world, but because her expectations were pegged at zero. The fact he hadn’t had a go-to condom in his possession lent credence to the notion he hadn’t intended to take her to bed, which left her wondering what he could possibly want from her.

  And whether she’d care, whatever it was.

  Pride kept her hackles raised, but the glass wall she’d built around her heart had turned to crumbling sand. Old feelings rushed the fragile barrier, sweeping away more of that well-intentioned indifference with every ebb of her emotional tide. But she wasn’t going to need him this time. He’d wrecked her naïveté once.

  She was stronger for it.

  Suddenly wary, she crossed her arms over her chest. “What do you want?”

  He raised an eyebrow but didn’t mince words. “You’ve heard about my father’s latest scandal.”

  It wasn’t a question. Knox’s father, Rex Hamilton, had been a United States senator for nearly twenty years. Though his terms were not without controversy, most of the trouble associated with his name was of a personal nature. Rumors flew, as they often did, but Rex had been discrete enough to ensure they remained unsubstantiated. He’d sent the gossip columnists into a tizzy a time or two, but without foundation, the gossip didn’t directly affect his career. At least not until recently, when he’d been strongly urged to step down after admitting to an affair with a well-respected cabinet member’s wife. Chloe wouldn’t have guessed Rex to be the type to surrender, but the fallout after the latest tryst had made national headlines, planting him in the middle of a semi-permanent three-ring circus and drawing paparazzi and political ire from every direction.

  When he’d given up his seat, he’d claimed it was for a love of politics and country—that in his absence, the business of governing could be accomplished without distraction—but Chloe didn’t necessarily buy it. Politicians were caught in scandals all the time, and Rex had a pristine record in the political arena. His extramarital affairs may have been a distraction, but he was a man for the people, and his constituents by and large loved him for it—some clearly more than others. What made this affair different from the rest? It was possible Knox’s mother had put her foot down—preferably in a very personal spot—but Katherine Hamilton was a gracious, classy woman who’d kept herself well above the fray.

  Chloe suspected there was more to the story, but with the news of Rex’s departure from the Senate breaking less than forty-eight hours before her date with Knox, she hadn’t had time to dig. Her hopes weren’t high—gaining access to the upper echelon of Washington was a pipe dream for a lowly print reporter, such as herself. But breaking a big political scandal would cement her job at
the Washington Tribune.

  And she’d just reunited with one hell of a connection.

  Even better, she knew just the story to break…if she could prove true her suspicions about Rex Hamilton.

  “What about Rex?” she asked.

  “I want his seat,” Knox said.

  She pulled her damp hair over her shoulder, feigning indifference despite the interest tearing through her. “I’m a reporter, not a fairy godmother.”

  “Actually, you’re amazing.”

  “Skip it, Knox. I don’t need the ego boost. Why am I here?”

  “Remember the night we met?”

  Did she ever. It was at a dive bar two hours out of the beltway. He’d bought her a daiquiri that night, too, and they had slow danced to every song, even the fast ones. She hadn’t realized his true identity as a member of the Hamilton political dynasty until a couple of days later when she’d seen his photo splashed on the front page of the newspaper next to some charity headline event. She’d felt like an idiot for not having recognized him, but he’d given her only his middle name, and Chloe wasn’t one to follow the gossip rags. Besides, Knox Hamilton didn’t wear five o’clock shadows, baseball hats, or jeans and faded tees rescued from the eighties as he had that night. And the ruckus that tended to follow him had been absent—he’d found the perfect disguise playing a nobody in a bar. By the time she’d reconciled the face on the front page with the man she knew, she’d spent a whole night in his arms, whispering sweet somethings while they made plans to see one another again. What had happened between them had come fast and hard, every moment filled with a quiet intimacy, his every touch one of fulfilling tenderness. There had been no pretensions between them that night, and in the months of under-the-radar dating that had followed, there never were.

  “I do remember that night,” she said. “Vaguely.” Had the words trembled on her lips? She’d spent a lot of time trying to forget the connection they’d once shared. Past tense. That connection was beyond moot after the way he’d left her—or it should have been. From the moment she’d laid eyes on him in Off the Record, she’d known that route of denial was over.

  He grinned. “I think it’s the first time I’d ever escaped recognition by a reporter.”

  “Says the man in disguise,” she said, matching his smile. Then the weight of her own words sank in, and she realized what had been missing all along. “I never knew the real you, did I?”

  He held her gaze, the moment lasting a beat too long. “Actually, Chloe, you’re probably the only person who has ever known the real me. Which is why you’re here.”

  His words sent delectable little shivers tiptoeing across her skin. She tried to fend them off, but tendrils of that old connection still haunted her. “Get to the point.”

  “I promised you an explanation as to why I left.”

  “Yes, you did.”

  “This life,” he said, “isn’t one I’d wish on any woman.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Fame…fortune…it would be brutal, yes.”

  The theatrics didn’t earn a response.

  “You’re thinking of your father.”

  “His running around has destroyed my mother. She’s outwardly strong—hell, most people think she’s a saint—but it’s killing her inside. This last time was just too public. Too much.”

  “So your father really stepped down for his family?”

  “That’s what he says.” Knox’s tightly indifferent tone suggested anything but indifference.

  She thought better of asking him to elaborate. “And you want his seat?”

  “I do. And I have a good chance. Despite the scandal, my father carries a good portion of the state, and the polls indicate his constituents think favorably of my taking his place.”

  “Polls, already?” She rolled her eyes. “It sure doesn’t take long for the vultures to circle.”

  “We had some lead time before the news broke, which is how I know the fact I’m single and have a playboy reputation could hurt the campaign.”

  She winced inwardly over the playboy part—the last thing she needed was the reminder she was just another smudge on his otherwise impeccably polished headboard. “So, what do you want from me? A signed affidavit attesting to your fidelity?”

  He leaned back in his chair and gave her what had to be his best podium appraisal. “I ended things between us because I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

  She snorted. “Gotta say that didn’t work out so well. I’m over it now—or I was until you came at me with the bald avenger—but your selfless dissolution of our relationship wouldn’t win you the character vote. If you don’t believe me, put that in your poll.”

  Pinning her down with a hard look, he said, “Dammit, Chloe. I get it. But I need you to get it. I didn’t want to draw you into this life.”

  “Nice chivalry,” she said, her voice heavy with sarcasm. “Did it ever occur to you to let me make my own decision? I’m a reporter, remember? I make a living off the ugly side of life, from which you’re so gallantly trying to protect me.” She froze, his words sinking in. “You didn’t want to? Past tense?”

  “My campaign manager has decided I need a wife.”

  She blinked.

  “He was ready to fabricate a relationship, but I drew a line. I’m not going to lie for votes.”

  She forced a laugh. “Are you sure you’re cut out to be a politician?”

  He ignored the jab. “I have a proposition for you. A business arrangement. Mutually beneficial, of course.”

  Her eye twitched. “You have boatloads of money. Privilege. Connections. I’m from the wrong side of the tracks and—judging by the way you left me—completely disposable. What could you possibly need from me?”

  He looked at her so long her insides started to quake. Finally, he said, “I want you to be my wife.”

  The room jolted into silence. After several seconds, the drone of a distant airplane broke through the fuzz in her head. She looked down at the dress he’d provided, then back up again. “What?”

  “I can do the Senate job, and I can do it well. I can restore honor to the family name. The race is mine to lose, but like I said, I need a wife.”

  She took a deep breath that did nothing to steady her churning heart. “And what, exactly, is in this for me?”

  But even as she asked, she knew. Access. Access to a story that, if her suspicions proved true, would tear Rex Hamilton’s reputation to shreds and possibly land him in jail.

  And Knox hadn’t a clue.

  “Networking,” he said. “You’d be on my arm at every major function in this town…including the ones closed to the press.”

  Even as the implication of his words sank in, her mind spun. Her job—her integrity as a reporter—meant everything to her. With newsprint losing favor in the shifting digital landscape, where competition was fierce and freelancers worked for a portion of her pay, job security was a myth. She wasn’t willing to stoop to tabloid reporting to keep her name on the front page, but a legitimate story, exposing one of the Washington elite? She’d grab it in a heartbeat. And this…this had the potential to be so much more. She strongly suspected Rex had pushed through approval on a project that should never have seen the light of day. As a direct result, her grandmother was on the verge of losing the farmhouse Chloe’s grandfather had built with his own hands, and a huge swath of environmentally sensitive wetlands were endangered. If she accepted Knox’s offer, she’d be in an unparalleled position to prove it.

  But marriage? Marriage should matter. Knox hadn’t professed his undying love, and there had been no mention of his inability to live without her. Sure, the sex between them was incredible, but by marrying him, would she give up her chance at something real? Her heart ached for love at first sight or happily-ever-after or whatever fairy tale Disney was selling these days—all things he hadn’t mentioned, let alone promised her. She had everything to gain, but at what cost?

  Either way, marrying Knox could be the biggest break
of her life.

  He watched her expectantly, the question in his eyes genuine. It wasn’t a politician who stood before her, but a man.

  A man who offered her almost everything.

  Almost.

  She took a deep breath. “No.”

  Chapter Five

  Knox’s heart plummeted to the ground beneath his feet. “No?”

  Chloe was looking at him with disgust, as if he’d flattened a kitten. “That’s right. No. As in, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “Actually, I’m serious.” Also a little stunned. Granted, his wasn’t exactly the type of proposal girls dreamed of their whole lives. In fact, he wasn’t sure he’d actually popped the question, at least not in the traditional sense. He certainly hadn’t left a dent in the carpet with his knee. But he’d been sincere, and that ought to count for something.

  “How did you foresee this playing out?” She jumped to her feet. “As you’ve just so eloquently pointed out, I’m a lowly reporter. Not only am I not from your esteemed social class, but in my professional capacity, I’m the Hamiltons’ sworn enemy.”

  “I think you might be overstating that a bit,” he said mildly. He kept his seat, letting her tower over him.

  “You just hinged your entire offer on the fact that I need you to gain access.”

  “You’re missing the point.”

  “You’re missing one, too. I’m a real person, and I’m not going to spend the rest of my life—or any portion thereof—playing a part. Not for my career and not for yours.” She paused long enough to take a breath. Long enough for his gaze to travel the length of her body and back. Twice. She didn’t miss the fact. “Find another fake wife,” she snapped.

  “There is no one else.”

  Five words. That was all it took to douse the fire and soften the rigid fury that had risen like some sort of atomic plume. She worried her bottom lip. Looked away, then found his eyes again. “What do you mean there’s no one else? Perhaps you haven’t noticed, but the line gave way to a mob when you became DC’s ‘Most Eligible Bachelor.’”