More Than Want You (More Than Words 1)

“I’ll pay you for your time.”

“I can’t let them down. I’ve been doing this for months. They really look forward to it. So do I.”

What kind of curmudgeon would I be if I took exercising and socializing away from some old folks? I’m an asshole…but not that much of an asshole. “All right. An hour once a week.”

“Next Wednesday night, I’m supposed to see my friend Cami. She’s a hairdresser. We trade out. She does my hair, and I help her with guided meditation.”

I shake my head. “You won’t be needing her, so she’ll have to find someone else to guide her thoughts into nothingness.”

“But my roots.” She points to the top of her head. “My hair doesn’t grow in pink, you know.”

“It won’t be pink for long. Griff has a type. It’s very specific. Even if you only flirt with him, you have to turn his head. That color will not do it. The lovely ladies at the Ritz-Carlton spa will transform you under my direction into my brother’s wet dream. Since that’s the reason for this venture, that point is nonnegotiable.”

Keeley doesn’t like it. I can tell she’s absolutely pissed off. But I’m right. I know exactly what Griff wants, and I’m going to dangle the most beautiful, charming, big-hearted woman in his face…then make sure he can’t have her. Screwing Griff out of the Stowe deal will be sweet. But screwing him out of the woman he’s dying to have will be every bit as delicious. And if I can be screwing her myself, that will be the sublime cherry on top.

“You’re paying to put my hair back exactly the way I’m wearing it now at the end of a month.”

“Done.” I like it pink, actually. It’s darker than an Easter egg, lighter than a raspberry. It suits her. If we haven’t boinked our brains out and gotten tired of one another after four weeks, then I’m good with this style.

Hell, as much as I want her now, I’m not sure I’d care if she went bald.

“One more thing. I called Gus this morning. He’s doing some remodeling at the bar, expanding the stage. He says the gigs have gone over well. He’d like to have me back on the nineteenth next month.”

Two days before the end of our bargain. I weigh carefully my mission versus how much I enjoy hearing her sing. “I’ll compromise with you. A week prior, we’ll look at our progress. If I think it’s sufficient, you can go. If not, you cancel. That gives him a week to find a replacement.”

“You’re pushing me,” she warns.

“Look, in different ways, we each hold parts of the other’s future in our hands. You’re helping me with now, and I’ll teach you how to succeed later. I’ve given where I know I can, but I want evenings dedicated to me.” To us. “We have a lot to accomplish and not much time to do it. I drive a hard bargain because that’s who I am. For the next month, I think you know you should worry more about keeping me happy and worry less about Gus. If, to your point, you won’t be making your living off your vocal cords, all you’ll have at that crappy sports bar is a good time.” And, sunshine, I’ll give you a better one. “If you want to make your living as an innkeeper, I’m your man.”

She sighs. “I feel as if I’ve conceded a lot to you.”

“I’ve compromised, too.” But I know I have Keeley mostly where I want her. I just have to not screw up my good thing.

She gives me a wry smile. “You trying to convince me of that doesn’t actually make it true.” When she shakes her head as if she’s questioning her sanity, I know I’ve won. “All right. You’ve got a deal. When do we start?”

“Now. I’ll take you back to your apartment. While you pack up, I’ll make some arrangements. Text me your class schedule. I’ll do my best to be back at the condo by seven every night. You’re mine until midnight. No interruptions. I’ll see how many hours I can cut out of my weekends.” I sit back in my massive chair, feeling a supremely satisfied smile streak across my face.

I’m going to do this so right Griff will never know what hit him.

CHAPTER SIX

By the time we reach my condo, it’s nearly nine. Keeley looks pale and a little shell-shocked. Everything has moved fast tonight for a couple of reasons. I didn’t want to give her too much time to rethink our deal…and I’m impatient to get her back onto my turf, into my bed.

We wait for the bellman to bring up her belongings. Thank god she rented the apartment furnished, so we only have to move her personal items. That frees up my hands. I can’t not touch her, so I tangle fingers with Keeley, pressing our palms together.

She wriggles away from me. “Don’t. This is a business relationship now.”

I could argue that it doesn’t have to be, but now isn’t the time to pick that fight. Later. When she’s comfortable and happy, when she’s feeling less overwhelmed.

“All right. It’s late. I’ll call for dinner. There’s a menu in the kitchen near the microwave. It’s propped against the wall.”

Keeley picks up the well-loved page and scans it with a wrinkle of her nose. “You clearly eat someone else’s food too often. So much sodium and fat and preservatives. Um…I’ll cook. Do you have any staples in your pantry and fridge?”

“Booze. Popcorn. Maybe a can of soup. I don’t cook here.” In fact, I’m wondering if, other than an occasional egg or sandwich, I’ve ever made a meal in my own kitchen.

“Oh, my gosh. You’re such a man.”

The way she rolls her eyes tells me that’s not a good thing.

“Hey, I get by.”

“Clogging your arteries every day, sure.” Suddenly, she points at me, determination all over her pixie features. “I’m going to addict you to good-for-you food in the next month. You’re going to crave meals that didn’t come out of a damn freezer. And I intend to make sure you can feed yourself properly after I’m gone.”

“As long as I get five hours of your time every day, why not?”

I have to eat. Sure, I could be healthier. Since I turned thirty a few years back, I notice that weight creeps up if I don’t maintain my strict gym habits. I’m sure less crappy food would make it easier to stay healthy. And I’ll get to spend more time with Keeley.

After she prowls through my kitchen, she turns to me with a shake of her head. “It’s empty.”

“I’m not—”

“Here that much. You’ve told me. As far as dinner goes, that’s going to change.”

For tonight, we call room service. While we wait, she moves into the spare bedroom. I linger in the doorway, try to talk to her. I attempt to be charming. I really want to remind her that half of my big bed is empty. I wonder if she would buy my argument that we could help the environment if we only needed to wash one set of sheets each week?

“How have you been the last few days?” I venture that line of questioning to see where the conversation goes.

“Perplexed,” she says honestly.

I understand what she means. “Me, too. I didn’t get a chance to tell you the other night, but you sang great.”

“Thanks.”

That’s all she has to say? Since she simply continues to pluck garments from her suitcase and hang them in the closet, I guess so.

I search for another conversation starter. “So you’ll just call your other jobs in the morning and quit?”

“Yes.”

And? “If they require two-week’s notice, you can’t give it to them.”

“Understood.” She sounds a bit down about that.

I want to comfort Keeley, but she has an invisible force field around her that warns me to keep out. Instead, I promise her something more practical. “Since you’ll be out of work, the offer of a hundred grand is still there. Just say the word.”

She gives me a noncommittal hum. I’m back at proverbial square one. If I touch her…well, I saw what happened to Hulk Moron?

?s balls the night we met. I promised I wouldn’t lay a hand on her against her will. Actually, I didn’t think she’d have much will to resist me. But I suspect this woman is far more stubborn than I gave her credit for. What if we spend the whole month without sex?