The Contract

by Melanie Moreland

  She traced the edge of one of the glossy covers, her finger retracing a picture of a bookcase. “How long?”

  “How would you feel about agreeing to a minimum of six months, with an option for another six?”

  Her mouth fell open in shock.

  “Hear me out.”

  She closed her mouth and nodded.

  “Graham admitted he still has reservations. I read the paperwork quickly in the car. The offer is a good one, except it has a five-month trial period. I think he’s going to be watching. If you leave before then, or right after, it will look suspicious.”

  “You think six months is the answer?”

  “It might be, except I think it’ll be longer. I need to know you’ll stay.”

  She didn’t say anything, and she didn’t meet my eyes. I felt the stirrings of panic building in my chest. I couldn’t do this without Katharine. I wanted to laugh at the irony. I had wanted to be rid of her for so long, and now I needed her more than I ever thought possible. Karma was, indeed, a bitch.

  “We can rework the terms,” I offered through tight lips.

  She finally looked up. “Your terms are fine the way they are. I’m not asking for more money.”

  “You agree to stay?”

  “For a year.”

  “Fine. I can work with that. By the end of a year, Graham will see what I bring to the table. He won’t be as concerned with my private life.” I drummed my fingers restlessly on the cold granite. “I do have one other thing I want to ask.”

  “Which is?”

  “I’d like to cover all my bases. Make sure there’s no room for doubt.”

  “I’m not following you.”

  I studied her for a moment, then spoke the words I never thought I’d hear myself say.

  “Will you marry me, Katharine?”

  RICHARD

  SHE WAS SPEECHLESS. HER LIPS moved, yet no words came out. Then she did the strangest thing.

  She laughed. Huge, loud peals of laughter. She clapped her hand over her mouth, but it didn’t do anything to stem the flow of chortles. Tears ran down her cheeks, and still she laughed.

  It was a sound I’d never heard from her, and while I had to admit, her laughter was highly infectious—I wasn’t amused at why she was laughing.

  I leaned back, crossing my arms. “I don’t find this a laughing matter, Miss Elliott.”

  I thought hearing me refer to her formally would snap her out of her hysteria because that was what it had to be. The only effect it seemed to have on her, though, was she laughed harder.

  I slammed my hand on the granite. “Katharine!”

  She slumped against the counter, wiping her eyes. She glanced over at me, and it started all over. More gales of laughter.

  I shoved off the chair and strode toward her, not certain what I would do when I got there. Shake her? Slap her? I grabbed her arms, and without another thought, crashed my mouth to hers, effectively silencing her lunacy. That strange warmth crept down my spine as I yanked her tight to my body and kissed her. I used every bit of frustration she made me feel to punish her into silence.

  Except it didn’t feel like punishment. It felt like pleasure.

  Hot, pulsating pleasure.

  With a groan, I jerked back, my chest heaving. “Are you finished?” I growled.

  She gazed up at me, finally silent, then nodded.

  “At the risk of starting you off again, Katharine, will you marry me?”

  “No.”

  I shook her slightly. “You said you would if we had to.”

  With a sigh, she surprised me again. She cupped my cheeks, her fingers stroking my skin. “Has anyone ever told you how impetuous you are, my darling?”

  “Spontaneity has served me well.”

  “I’d call it hot-headed, but you call it whatever lets you sleep at night.”

  “Why are you saying no?”

  “Richard, think about it. Think it through. If your instinct is right, and Graham is suspicious and you marry me right now, it will make him more so, not less.”

  I stared into her blue eyes, her words sinking into my brain. I stepped back, her hands dropping from my face as I realized she was right.

  “Well, fuck.”

  “I’m right, you know I am.”

  I hated to admit it, but she definitely had a point.

  “Yes, you are.”

  “I’m sorry, what did you say?” she teased.

  “Don’t push your luck.”

  She grinned, and it occurred to me, she was no longer frightened of me. I wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or not.

  “We are going to readdress this issue, Katharine.”

  She pushed off the counter, skirting around me. “Then we’ll talk about it later.” She lifted the magazines, tucking them under her arm. “I have some things to read. I’m going to get some ideas for my room.”

  She started to walk away, and I held out my hand to stop her leaving. “While you’re at it, call the building super. Something is wrong with my bedroom door.”

  She hesitated, eyes wide. “Oh?”

  I reached over for an apple from the fruit bowl, rubbing it absently on my shirt. “I never shut it tight, but it’s wide open when I get up in the morning. I don’t know what’s wrong with it. Get it fixed.”

  “Oh, I, ah . . .”

  I frowned. She was all red—not just her usual pink-cheeked flush either. Her chest and neck were red and the color on her face was almost purple.

  “What?”

  “Your door isn’t broken,” she burst out, speaking fast.

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I open it.”

  It was my turn to be shocked. “Why would you do that?”

  “It’s, ah, quiet here.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  She edged closer, her fingers playing with the edge of the magazines. “I couldn’t sleep the first night. Where I lived it was always noisy, from sirens, people, cars or something. In here, it was so silent that it was almost frightening. I was going past your door and I heard you—ah, you were snoring.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “I have a deviated septum. I don’t snore—it’s a wheeze.”

  “If I push open your door, and leave mine ajar, I can hear you, ah, wheeze, and I know I’m not alone. It’s, well, it’s comforting.”

  I had no idea how to respond to her bashful confession. I was comforting?

  “Well, then, never mind.”

  “I won’t do it again.”

  I waved my hand. “Whatever. I don’t mind.”

  She turned and left, and I stared after her retreating figure. She hadn’t told me not to kiss her, although she hadn’t addressed the fact I had either. Instead, she confessed to being nervous and unknowingly I had helped her sleep. She also had pointed out the flaw in my idea of marrying her right away. We had each done the other a favor. We were even.

  Still, later that night, after shutting off my light, I opened my door, saving her a trip. God knew how grumpy she’d be if she didn’t have any sleep.

  I went through the paperwork carefully the next day. The offer was good. The package was generous. The one thing nagging me was the five-month probationary period. Three months was the norm, and I couldn’t shake the idea there was more to it in this case. I got up, pacing the floor, and ended up staring out the window at the city below me. I liked it here. I liked the fact it was a busy city, yet easy to leave behind for more open spaces. I liked being able to grab a flight with no trouble, and I liked being close to the water. Why, I had no idea, but I did.

  A knock interrupted my thoughts, and I turned my head. Katharine was at the door, a cup of coffee in her hands.

  “I thought you’d like this.”

  I accepted the mug, taking a sip. “Thank you.”

  “Did you go through your offer?”

  I sat down, indicating she should also. “Yes.”

  “You don’t look happy.”

  “No, it’s f
ine. It’s a generous base, lots of perks, and bonuses based on productivity, the usual benefits—it’s all there.”

  “But?”

  “The probation period is bothering me.”

  “Because it’s longer than usual?”

  “I think . . . I’m not sure he is convinced,” I admitted. “He even said so.”

  She sighed. “What do you want to do?”

  I gave her a pointed look. “Set a date.”

  “You’re certain he’s watching you? Do you think he would hire you if he thought you were playing a game? He doesn’t seem that sort of man.”

  “I agree, but my gut is telling me I need—we need—to move forward.” I inhaled deeply. “Name your terms, Katharine. My future is entirely in your hands right now.”

  She studied me for a moment. I waited to see what she would say. What huge dollar amount and demands she would lay on the table. I could afford it, but I was still curious.

  She retraced a design on the top of my desk, not saying a word. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. “Just tell me.”

  “If I agree to marry you,” she began, “you want at least a year?”

  “Yes. Maybe eighteen months.” When her eyes widened, I hastened to add. “Two years, tops.”

  “Two years,” she mouthed silently.

  “It may not take that long. I’m just throwing it out there.”

  “With a minimum of one year?”

  “Yes.”

  She tossed her hair, a stubborn look crossing her face. “There are things I want.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m not surprised. You have me right where you want me, Katharine. You know you hold the upper hand right now. Lay it on the table.”

  “I want to make a few changes here.”

  “Changes?”

  “To the living area, my room. Add some color, some softness. Make it homier.”

  I nodded in agreement. “Fine. Do whatever you want to the place—no fucking pink. I hate pink. What else?”

  “A table in the empty space in the kitchen would be nice.”

  “Buy one.”

  “Can I buy a waffle iron? I always wanted a waffle iron.”

  I blinked. She wanted a fucking waffle iron? That was what she wanted?

  “Never mind all the little shit. What do you really want to agree to this? A bonus? A house for after we split?”

  She frowned. “I told you I wasn’t looking for more money. Your, ah, terms, are fine.”

  “You want something. You’re nervous and fidgety. Just say it.”

  “I want the same thing I wanted before. No cheating.”

  I huffed out a large puff of air. I knew what she wanted—my celibacy.

  Resting my chin on my fingers, I studied her. She was a contradiction. Every woman I knew would have hit me up for a large sum of money. A house. Jewelry. Easy things for me to give. She wanted something of no monetary value, but a huge sacrifice on my part. I wondered how she felt about me turning the tables.

  “I would ask the same of you.”

  She raised her chin. “That isn’t an issue.”

  “You won’t miss not having sex for two years?”

  Color saturated her cheeks; however, she didn’t look away. “You can’t miss what you’ve never had, Richard.”

  Shock rendered me speechless. I hadn’t expected her frank confession.

  “Ah,” was all I managed to croak out.

  “Can you handle that?” she demanded, an edge to her voice. “I can’t abide cheating.”

  I stood, then sat down on the edge of my desk in front of her. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like a nice house instead? Maybe a generous lump payment big enough you never have to worry about working for an ass like me again?”

  “No.”

  I sighed. “Is there nothing else I can give you as an alternative?”

  “No.”

  I gave in. I really had no choice. “On two conditions.”

  “What?”

  “You marry me this weekend after I sign with Graham. I’ll tell him we were so caught up in celebrating, we got married. He’ll buy that.”

  “And the second?”

  I smirked at her. “We’ll be married, Katharine. Legal. I want to know if you’d be willing to discuss, ah, expanding our boundaries at some point further into our relationship.”

  Her eyes grew large. “You said you didn’t want to sleep with me.”

  “Two years is a long time for a man like me.”

  “You have hands.”

  I burst out laughing at her candid remark. “Something for which I’m already grateful. I’m not saying it’s a given. I am asking if it could be discussed”—I winked at her—“should the need arise.”

  “You don’t find me attractive. You don’t even like me! Why would you want to sleep with me?”

  “I already told you I think I may have misjudged you. I do like you. You make me laugh. As for the attractive part, again, I was wrong. You’re quite pretty when you’re not dressed in rags and sporting an old woman hairstyle.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Thanks. Keep up with the sweet words; I may not be able to control myself around you.”

  I grinned. “It wouldn’t be all that awful, you know. I’m a good-looking man, I know my way around the bedroom, and I can make sure you enjoy yourself.”

  “Wow. Hard to believe I’m the only one you ever convinced to marry you. You make it sound so great, so romantic.”

  I chuckled. I did like the way she argued with me at times. “Do you agree to my terms?”

  She pursed her lips. “If you agree to mine.”

  “Then, Miss Elliott, I guess we’re getting married on Saturday.”

  “Saturday?”

  “We’ll have the license tomorrow; I’ll sign on Friday—the timing is perfect. We’ll go to city hall, say the words, snap a couple pictures, and the deed is done.”

  “My dream wedding,” she murmured sarcastically.

  I shrugged. “Wear a nice dress. I bought you lots of them.”

  “Well, then, with an offer like that, how can I refuse?”

  I held out my hand. “A pleasure doing business with you.”

  Tentatively, she grasped my outstretched palm. She gasped when I yanked her close, wrapping my arm around her, pressing my lips to her ear. “I guarantee your pleasure, Katharine. Remember that.”

  Releasing her, I sat back down at my desk, laughing as she stormed out.

  At least the next two years wouldn’t be completely dull.

  Given what she had shared . . . they could prove to be interesting.

  RICHARD

  IT WAS A NIGHT TO celebrate. I had done it. I was a certified employee of The Gavin Group. I met with Graham, signed the offer, and much to his delight, I told him I wanted to stay and get started right away. My office was set up, I officially met my assistant, Amy, and Graham had already placed some folders on my desk. I dove into them with vigor, making preliminary notes, jotting down ideas and thoughts as they came to me.

  When he told me there was a small gathering after the office closed, I had texted Katharine to inform her I wouldn’t be home, so I was surprised when I saw her walk in carrying, of all things, a tray of cookies. Looking over at the lavish buffet spread out, I wanted to roll my eyes. She brought homemade cookies to an event like this? And why was she here? I hadn’t asked her to come.

  The answer became obvious rather quick. Jenna clapped her hands and hurried over to Katharine.

  “You came! And you brought the cookies as I asked! You’re the best!” Jenna then proceeded to hug her, making a huge fuss over the fact my fiancée was present.

  Schooling my features, I crossed the room, ever aware their eyes were on me. I wound my arm around Katharine’s waist, drawing her close. I nuzzled her hair as I murmured to her.

  “You never told me, sweetheart. If I’d known you were coming, I would have been downstairs waiting for you.” I tightened my arm. “You never even answered my text.”r />
  She looked at me, and I could see the apprehension in her eyes. “Jenna insisted I surprise you.”

  “I was afraid if you knew she was bringing your favorite cookies, you’d kidnap her and them,” Jenna teased.

  I smirked at her impish tone. “I’d share the cookies before I shared her.”

  Jenna giggled, and I knew I’d said the right thing. She grabbed Katharine’s arm. “Break it up, you two. Mom wants to see Katy again, and I want to pick her brain about your wedding plans.” She dragged her off. I made a big show of pouting, then went and got another scotch. I did take a couple cookies, though.

  That was how the evening unfolded. It felt as though I wasn’t even there. I drifted from group to group, chatted with Graham, Adrian, and Adam, all of whom teased me about trying to talk about work, insisting this was a social occasion. Graham grinned as he clapped me on the shoulder and told me he was thrilled I was so anxious, but Monday would be soon enough. I listened to their plans for the weekend, the way they talked about their wives, and their lives, wondering how anyone could be so attached to another person. It seemed to be the same for every one of them. They all watched their respective spouses with adoration-filled gazes. It made me a little nauseous, but I followed their example, watching Katharine as she walked around the room, talking to people, usually with Jenna or Laura by her side. She seemed to be the star of the show. Everyone wanted to talk to my fiancée. Her cookies were a huge hit, disappearing long before any of the other desserts.

  When had she become more important than I was? She was the sidekick. I was the star. I was always the one who commanded the room. How had it changed? I frowned as I thought about it. It had been the same last week. When she was beside me, people spoke to me, engaged me in conversation. When we were separated, they were polite, but distant—there was no small talk or personal observations. Instead, it revolved around business. It was what I knew best. Katharine brought a warmth and ease to the interactions. Somehow, she made me more likable; her softness was doing exactly what I wanted it to do.

  It was what I needed, yet somehow, it still angered me. It made me feel as if I needed her.

  I didn’t need anyone.

  Graham chuckled. “Okay, Richard, quit glowering at the accounting department. They’re only being friendly to your lovely Katy. No need to be shooting daggers in their direction.”