One Night Stand Bride

It pissed her off. Why couldn’t he be ugly, with a hunchback and gnarled feet?

Which was a stupid thing to wish for because if that was the case, she wouldn’t be in this position. She’d never have hooked up with him in Vegas because yes, she was that shallow and a naked romp with a man built like Hendrix had righted her world—for a night.

Now she’d pay the price for that moment of hedonism. The final cost had yet to be determined, though.

Hendrix set her phone down on the desk, correctly guessing he had her attention and the threat of expulsion had waned. For now. She could easily send him packing if the need struck. Or she could roll the chair back a few inches and move the man into a better position to negotiate something of the more carnal variety. This was a solid desk. Would be a shame not to fully test its strength.

No. She shook her head. This was the danger of putting herself in the same room with him. She forgot common sense and propriety.

“Since I’m already in the zone of crazy,” he commented in his North Carolina–textured twang, “you should definitely hear me out. For real this time. I don’t know what you think I’m proposing, but odds are good you didn’t get that it starts and ends with a partnership.”

That had not come across. Whatever he had in mind, she’d envisioned a lot of sex taking center stage. And that she’d have to do without because she’d turned over a new leaf.

A partnership, on the other hand, had interesting possibilities.

As coolly as she could under the circumstances, she crossed her arms. Mostly as a way to keep her hands to herself. “Talk fast. You’ve got my attention for about another five minutes.”

Two (#u315c2aff-8302-57ec-9717-9d79a7e4753c)

Hendrix had been right to follow Rosalind. This bare storefront had a story behind it and he had every intention of learning her secrets. Whatever leverage he could dig up might come in handy, especially since he’d botched the first round of this negotiation.

And the hard cross of Roz’s arms told him it was indeed a negotiation, one he shouldn’t expect to win easily. That had been his mistake on the first go-round. He’d thought their chemistry would be good trading currency, but she’d divested him of that notion quickly. So round two would need a completely different approach.

“What is this place?” he asked and his genuine curiosity leaked through. He had a vision in his head of Rosalind Carpenter as a party girl, one who posed for men’s magazines and danced like a fantasy come to life. Instead of tracking her down during an afternoon shopping spree, he’d stumbled over her working.

It didn’t fit his perception of her and he’d like to get the right one before charging ahead.

“I started a charity,” she informed him with a slight catch in her voice that struck him strangely.

She expected him to laugh. Or say something flippant. So he didn’t. “That’s fantastic. And hard. Good for you.”

That bobbled her composure and he wouldn’t apologize for enjoying it. This marriage plan should have been a lot easier to sell and he couldn’t put his finger on why he’d faltered so badly thus far. She’d been easy in Vegas—likable, open, adventurous. All things he’d assumed he’d work with today, but none of those qualities seemed to be a part of her at-home personality. Plus, he wasn’t trying to get her into bed. Well, technically, he was. But semi-permanently, and he didn’t have a lot of experience at persuading a woman to still be there in the morning.

No problem. Winging it was how he did his best work. He hadn’t pushed Harris Family Tobacco Lounge so close to the half-billion mark in revenue without taking a few risks.

“What does your charity do?” he asked, envisioning an evening dress resale shop or Save the Kittens. Might as well know what kind of fundraiser he’d have to attend as her husband.

“Clowns,” she said so succinctly that he did a double take to be sure he hadn’t misheard her. He hadn’t. And it wasn’t a joke, judging by the hard set of her mouth.

“Like finding new homes for orphan clowns?” he guessed cautiously, only half kidding. Clown charity was a new one for him.

“You’re such a moron.” She rolled her eyes, but they had a determined glint now that he liked a lot better than the raw vulnerability she’d let slip a few minutes ago. “My charity trains clowns to work with children at hospitals. Sick kids need to be cheered up, you know?”

“That’s admirable.” And he wasn’t even blowing smoke. It sounded like it meant something to her and thus it meant something to him—as leverage. He glanced around, taking in the bare walls, the massive and oddly masculine dark-stained desk and the rolling leather chair under her very fine backside. Not much to her operation yet, which worked heavily in his favor. “How can I help?”

Suspicion tightened her lush mouth, which only made him want to kiss it away. They were going to have to fix this attraction or he’d spend all his time adjusting her attitude in a very physical way.

On second thought, he couldn’t figure out a downside to that approach.

“I thought you were trying to talk me into marrying you,” she said with a fair amount of sarcasm.

“One and the same, sweetheart.” He gave it a second and the instant his meaning registered, her lips curved into a crafty smile.

“I’m starting to see the light.”

Oh yes, now they were ready to throw down. Juices flowing, he slid a little closer to her and she didn’t roll away, just coolly stared up at him without an ounce of give. What was wrong with him that he was suddenly more turned on in that instant than he had been at any point today?

“Talk to me. What can I do in exchange for your name on a marriage certificate?”

Her smile gained a lot of teeth. “Tell me why it’s so important to you.”

He bit back the curse. Should have seen that one coming. As a testament to her skill in maneuvering him into giving up personal information, he opted to throw her a bone. “I told you. I’ve had some fallout. My mother is pretty unhappy with me and I don’t like her to be unhappy.”

“Mama’s boy?”

“Absolutely.” He grinned. Who didn’t see the value in a man who loved and respected his mama? “There’s no shame in that. We grew up together. I’m sure you’ve heard the story. She was an unwed teenage mother, yadda, yadda?”

“I’ve heard. So this is all one hundred percent about keeping your mom happy, is it?”

Something clued him in that she wasn’t buying it, which called for some serious deflection. The last thing he wanted to have a conversation about was his own reasons for pursuing Roz for the first and only Mrs. Hendrix Harris.

He liked being reminded of his own vulnerabilities even less than he liked being exposed to hers. The less intimate this thing grew, the better. “Yeah. If she wasn’t in the middle of an election cycle, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. But she is and I messed up. I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get this deal done. Name your price.”

“Get your mom to agree to be a clown for me and I’ll consider it.”

That was what she wanted? His gaze narrowed as they stared at each other. “That’s easy. Too easy. You must not want me to figure out that you’re really panting to get back into my bed.”

Her long silky laugh lodged in his chest and spread south. She could turn that sentiment back on him with no trouble at all.

Which was precisely what she did. “Sounds like a guilty conscience talking to me. Sure you’re not the one using this ploy to get me naked without being forced to let on how bad you want it?”

“I’m offended.” But he let a smile contradict the statement. “I’ll tell you all day long how much I want you if that floats your boat. But this is a business proposition. Strictly for nonsexual benefits.”

Any that came along with this marriage could be considered a bonus.

She snorted. “Are you trying to tell me you’d give up other women while we’re married? I don’t think you’re actually capable of that.”

Now, that was just insulting. What kind of a philanderer did she take him for? He’d never slept with more than one woman at a time and never calling one again made that a hundred percent easier.

“Make no mistake, Roz. I am perfectly capable of forgoing other women as long as you’re the one I’m coming home to at the end of the day.”

All at once, a vision of her greeting him at the door wearing sexy lingerie slammed through his mind and his body reacted with near violent approval. Holy hell. He had no problem going off other women cold turkey if Roz was on offer instead, never mind his stupid rules about never banging the same woman twice. This situation was totally different, with its own set of rules. Or at least it would be as soon as he got his head out of her perfect cleavage and back on how to close this deal.

“Let me get this straight. You’re such a dog that the only way you can stay out of another woman’s bed is if I’m servicing you regularly?” She wrinkled her nose. “Stop me when I get to the part where I’m benefiting from this arrangement.”

Strictly to cover the slight hitch in his lungs that her pointed comment had caused, he slid over until he was perched on the desk directly in front of her. Barely a foot of space separated them and an enormous amount of heat and electricity arced through his groin, draining more of his sense than he would have preferred. All he could think about was yanking her into his arms and reminding her how hot he could get her with nothing more than a well-placed stroke of his tongue.

He let all of that sizzle course through his body as he swept her with a heated once-over. “Sweetheart, you’ll benefit, or have you forgotten how well I know your body?”