Chapter 4

• Nick looked around, pleased with the outcome. His private conference room provided a professional setting, and the bouquet of fresh flowers placed in the center of the table by his secretary added a personal touch among the plush wine carpeting, rich gleam of cherry wood, and buttery leather chairs. The contracts were neatly laid out, along with an elegant silver tray filled with tea, coffee, and a variety of pastries. The tone of their marriage would be formal yet friendly.
• When he thought about running into Alexandria McKenzie again, he ignored the pitch deep in his gut. He was curious about her development. The stories his sister told him painted a picture of a daring, impulsive woman. He resisted Maggie’s suggestion at first because Alexa didn’t fit the image he needed. Even though he knew she owned a respectable bookstore, memories of a free-spirited kid with a ponytail bobbing teased his thoughts. Even though he hadn’t seen her in years, he still remembered her as Maggie’s playmate.
• However, time was running out.
• They had a distant history, and he had the impression Alexa could be trusted. She may not have been his ideal wife, but she needed money. Fast. Maggie didn’t say anything about the reason, but she painted Alexa as desperate. He was fine with a cash need—it was black and white. There are no gray areas. They have no romantic feelings for each other. A formal business transaction between long-time acquaintances. That was fine with Nick.
• He reached for the intercom to summon his secretary, but the heavy door swung open and closed with a solid click.
• He shifted his weight.
• Deep blue eyes met his without hesitation and with a clarity that told him this woman would lose any poker game—she was brutally honest and refused to bluff. He recognized her gaze, but the colors had faded to an unsettling mix of aquamarine and sapphire. Certain images came to mind, such as plunging into the Caribbean Sea in search of its mysteries. A canvas of Sinatra’s umbrella skies stretched so far and wide that a man couldn’t tell where it began and ended.
• Her eyes stood out against the inky black of her hair, which was made up of corkscrew curls that tumbled past her shoulders and framed her face with a natural wildness she couldn’t seem to control. A lush mouth is highlighted by high cheekbones. He’d ask her if she’d been stung by a bee and then burst out laughing. He was in on the joke. It had nothing to do with bees, but hot male fantasies were built around a mouth like hers. Simply honey. Warm, sticky honey, preferably poured over those plump lips and slowly licked off.
• Oh, dear.
• He restrained himself and completed his inspection. He remembered torturing her when he discovered she needed to wear a bra. She’d been mortified by his discovery as an early developer, and he’d used the information wisely. It was no longer amusing. Her breasts matched the curve of her hips and were as lush as her mouth. She was tall, almost as tall as he, and she was dressed in a fiery red tank dress that emphasized her cleavage, skimmed over her hips, and fell to the floor. Scarlet toes peered out from beneath gleaming red sandals. She stood still in the doorway, as if waiting for him to finish his drink before speaking.
• Nick fought through his discomfiture and relied on professionalism to conceal his reaction. Alexandria Maria McKenzie had matured nicely. A little too well, in his opinion. But there was no need to inform her.
• He gave her the same neutral smile he would give any business associate. “Good day, Alexa. It’s been a while.”
• She returned the smile, but it did not reach her eyes. She fisted her hands and shifted her feet. “Good day, Nick. How are you doing?”
• “Fine. Please take a seat. Can I make you some coffee? Tea?”
• “Coffee, please.”
• “Cream? Sugar?”
• “Cream. Thank you very much.” She slid into the cushioned chair with grace, swiveled away from the desk, and crossed her legs. The slinky red material crept up on him, revealing olive skin that was smooth and athletic.
• He focused on the coffee. “Napoleon? What is an apple fritter? They’re from the bakery down the block.”
• “No, thank you.”
• “Sure?”
• “Yes. I’d never be able to limit myself to just one. I’ve learned to resist temptation.”
• In a low, smoky voice that stroked his ears, she uttered the word tempt. His pants tightened another notch as he realized her voice stroked him in other places. Disgusted by his reaction to a woman he didn’t want to have physical contact with, he focused on preparing her coffee and sat across from her.
• They exchanged glances for a few moments, and the silence grew longer. She rubbed the delicate gold bracelet that encircled her wrist. “I’m sorry about your Uncle Earl.”
• “Thank you very much. Did Maggie tell you everything?”
• “The whole thing sounds crazy.”
• “It is. Uncle Earl believed in family, and he was convinced I’d never settle down before he died. As a result, he determined that a strong push would be in my best interests.”
• “You don’t believe in marriage?”
• He shook his head. “Marriage is superfluous. The desire to live forever is a fairy tale. There are no white knights or monogamy.”
• She recoiled in surprise. “You don’t believe in making a commitment to another person?”
• “Commitments are fleeting. People do mean it when they profess love and devotion, but time erodes all the good and leaves only the bad. “Do you have any friends who are happily married?”
• She parted her lips, then fell silent. “Aside from my parents? I suppose not. But that doesn’t rule out happy couples.”
• “Maybe.” His tone belied his partial agreement.
• “I guess there are a lot of issues we don’t agree on,” she said, shifting in her seat and crossing her legs again. “We’ll need some time together to see if this thing will work.”
• “We don’t have time. The wedding must be held by the end of next week. It makes no difference if we get along. This is strictly a business transaction.”