The Contract (The Contract 1)

I was still tense from earlier—it happened every time I spoke about my parents, no matter how brief. I hated thinking about them, and my past.

Katharine’s bright eyes met mine. Her hair fell over her shoulder, and I couldn’t help notice how the red suited her pale complexion and deep color of her hair. Wordlessly, I poured a glass of wine and sat beside her, pushing those strange thoughts out of my head.

“Dinner will arrive soon. I ordered you some cannelloni. I hope you like it.”

She nodded. “It’s one of my favorites.”

I held up my list with a smirk. “I know.”

I took a sip of my wine, enjoying the flavor. She had picked one of my favorites.

I tapped the papers on the counter. “Shall we begin?”Hours later, I emptied the last of the wine into my glass. I was exhausted. Never one to talk about my past, or reveal too many personal details, it had been a torturous evening. Fortunately, since we had a lot of ground to cover, I didn’t have to delve too deep into a lot of things. She knew I was an only child, my parents were deceased, and all the pertinent facts: where I went to school, my favorite activities, colors, foods, likes and dislikes. I was somewhat surprised to find she already knew many of those facts—she was more observant at the office than I gave her credit for being.

I learned a great deal of new information about Katharine. Whereas she was observant, to me, she had only ever been a shadow on the edge of my world. She was as reticent to discuss her past as I was, but told me enough so I could make do. She also had no siblings—her parents died when she was a teenager and she lived with her aunt who now resided in a care home. She didn’t finish post-secondary school, came to work for the Anderson Inc. as a temporary job, and never left. When I questioned why, she stated, at the time she was undecided about her future and chose to work until she knew what she wanted. I let it go, even though it seemed strange. I had no idea how her mind worked.

I sat down with a sigh. Katharine tensed beside me, and I leaned my head back, regarding her with ill-concealed impatience. “I think we have the basic facts down, Katharine. I even know the name of your favorite hand cream should that come up.” Her lists had been far more detailed than mine. “However, none of this is going to work if you stiffen every time I come close to you.”

“I’m not used to it,” she admitted. “You, ah, usually put me on edge.”

“We’re going to have to be close,” I informed her. “Lovers are. They touch and caress. They whisper and exchange glances. There’s a familiarity that comes with being intimate. I have a feeling the Gavin family is an affectionate bunch. If I can’t reach for your hand without you flinching, no amount of facts will help us with Graham watching.”

She fiddled with her wineglass, running her fingers over the stem repeatedly. “What are you saying?”

“I’m going to touch you, whisper things in your ear, stroke your arm, even kiss you. Call you sweetheart, other endearments. Like any other couple in love.”

“I thought you said you’ve never been in love?”

I snickered. “I’ve done enough ads about it, I can fake it. Besides, I’ve been in lust enough, it’s basically the same.”

“Sex without love is just body parts and friction.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that kind of friction. Sex without love is the way I like it. Love does things to people. It changes them. Makes them weak. Complicates things. I have no interest in that.”

“That’s just sad.”

“Not in my world. Now back to the task at hand. Are you prepared not to run screaming when I suddenly touch you, or kiss you? Can you handle it?” I rapped my knuckles on the lists sitting in front of us. “We need more than facts to be successful.”

She lifted her chin. “Yes.”

“Okay, we need to try something.”

“What do you suggest?”

I stroked my chin with my finger. “Well, since fucking for fucking sake is off the table, I guess we need to figure that out. Unless you want to try?”

She rolled her eyes, but her cheeks darkened. “No. Suggest something else.”

I suppressed my chuckle. She was entertaining at times. I held my hand out, palm up, in invitation. “Work with me.”

Slowly, she slipped her hand into mine, and I closed my fingers around her small palm. Her skin was cool and soft, and with a grin, I squeezed her fingers before letting go. “See, I didn’t burn you or anything.”

Feeling restless, I stood, walking around. “We’re going to have to act comfortable with each other. If I kiss your cheek or wrap my arm around your waist, you have to act as if it’s normal.” I tugged on my shirt hem. “You’ll have to do the same. Reach for me, smile, laugh when I bend down and whisper something. Stretch up on those ridiculously short legs to kiss my cheek. Something. Do you understand?”