One Night Stand Bride

“Yep. Well, that and Helene Harris for Governor in a clown suit. Can’t forget the children.”

Her smug tone raked at something inside him. “That’s ridiculous. I mean, my mom would be happy to do the clown thing. It’s great publicity for her, too. But no sex? Not even with you? There is literally no reason for you to lay down such a thing except as cruel and unusual punishment.”

“Careful, Hendrix,” she crooned. “It’s starting to sound like you might have a problem keeping it in your pants. I mean, how long are we talking? A couple of months?”

A couple of months? He’d been slightly panicked at the thought of a week or two. It wasn’t that he was some kind of pervert like she was making it sound. Sex was a necessary avoidance tactic in his arsenal. A shield against the intimacy that happened in the small moments, when you weren’t guarded against it. He kept himself out of such situations on purpose.

If he wasn’t having sex with Roz, what would they do with each other?

“I think the better question is whether you can do it,” he countered smoothly. “You’re the same woman who was all in for every wicked, dirty escapade I could dream up in Vegas. You’re buckling yourself into that chastity belt too, honey.”

“Yeah, for a reason.” Her eyes glittered with conviction. “The whole point of this is to fix the problems the photograph caused. Do you really think you and I can keep ourselves out of Scandalville if we’re sleeping together?” His face must have registered his opinion on that because she nodded. “Exactly. It’s a failsafe. No sex—with anyone. No scandals. Or no ‘I do.’”

The firm press of a rock and a hard place nearly stole his breath. If no sex was important to her, how could he refuse?

“Six weeks,” he said hoarsely. “We’ll be engaged for six weeks. Once we’re married, all bets are off.”

“We’ll see. I might keep the no sex moratorium. You and I don’t make sense together, Hendrix, so don’t pretend that we do.”

She swallowed that sentence with a squeak as he hauled her out of that chair and into his arms for a lesson on exactly how wrong she was. God, she fit the contours of his body like the ocean against the sand, seeping into him with a rush and shush, dragging pieces of him into her as her lips crashed against his.

Her taste exploded under his mouth as he kissed her senseless. But then it was his own senses sliding through the soles of his feet as Roz sucked him dry with her own sensual onslaught. For a woman who’d just told him they didn’t work, she jumped into the kiss with enthusiasm that had him groaning.

The hot, slick slide of her tongue against his dissolved his knees. Only the firm press of that heavy desk against his backside kept him upright. The woman was a wicked kisser, not that he’d forgotten. But just as he slid his hand south to fill his palms with her luscious rear, she wrenched away, taking his composure with her.

“Where are you going?” he growled.

“The other side of the room.” Her chest rose and fell as if she’d run a marathon as she backed away. Frankly, his own lungs heaved with the effort to fill with air. “What the hell was that for?”

“You wanted that kiss as much as I did.”

“So it was strictly to throw it back in my face that I can’t resist you?”

Well, now. That was a tasty admission that she looked like she wished to take back. He surveyed her with renewed interest. Her kiss-reddened lips beckoned him but he didn’t chase her down. He wanted to understand this new dynamic before he pressed on. “You said we didn’t work. I was simply helping you see the error in that statement.”

“I said no such thing. I said we don’t make sense together. And that’s why. Because we work far too well.”

“I’m struggling to see the problem with that.” They’d definitely worked in Vegas, that was for sure. Now that he’d gotten a second taste, he was not satisfied with having it cut short.

“Because I need to stay off the front page,” she reminded him with that funny hitch in her voice that shouldn’t be more affecting than her heated once-overs. “There are people walking by the window as we speak, Hendrix. You make me forget all of that. No more kissing until the wedding. Consider

it an act of good faith.”

The point was painfully clear. She wanted him to prove he could do it.

“So we’re doing this. Getting married,” he clarified.

“As a partnership. When it stops being beneficial, we get a divorce. No ifs, ands or buts.” She caught him in her hot gaze that still screamed her desire. “Right? Do we need to spell it out legally?”

“You can trust me,” he grumbled. She was the one who’d thrown down the no-sex rule. What did she think he was going to do, force her to stay married so he could keep being celibate for the rest of his life? “As long as I can trust you.”

“I’m good.”

He thought about shaking on it but the slightly panicked flair to her expression made him think twice. It didn’t matter. The deal was done, as painful as it would ultimately end up being.

It was worth it. He had to make it up to his mom for causing her grief, and this was what she’d asked him to do. And if deep inside, he craved the idea of belonging to such an old-guard, old-money family as the Carpenters, no one would be the wiser.

All he had to do was figure out how to be engaged to Roz without trying to seduce her again and without getting too chummy. Should be a walk in the park.