The Contract (The Contract 1)

She retraced a design on the top of my desk, not saying a word. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. “Just tell me.”

“If I agree to marry you,” she began, “you want at least a year?”

“Yes. Maybe eighteen months.” When her eyes widened, I hastened to add. “Two years, tops.”

“Two years,” she mouthed silently.

“It may not take that long. I’m just throwing it out there.”

“With a minimum of one year?”

“Yes.”

She tossed her hair, a stubborn look crossing her face. “There are things I want.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m not surprised. You have me right where you want me, Katharine. You know you hold the upper hand right now. Lay it on the table.”

“I want to make a few changes here.”

“Changes?”

“To the living area, my room. Add some color, some softness. Make it homier.”

I nodded in agreement. “Fine. Do whatever you want to the place—no fucking pink. I hate pink. What else?”

“A table in the empty space in the kitchen would be nice.”

“Buy one.”

“Can I buy a waffle iron? I always wanted a waffle iron.”

I blinked. She wanted a fucking waffle iron? That was what she wanted?

“Never mind all the little shit. What do you really want to agree to this? A bonus? A house for after we split?”

She frowned. “I told you I wasn’t looking for more money. Your, ah, terms, are fine.”

“You want something. You’re nervous and fidgety. Just say it.”

“I want the same thing I wanted before. No cheating.”

I huffed out a large puff of air. I knew what she wanted—my celibacy.

Resting my chin on my fingers, I studied her. She was a contradiction. Every woman I knew would have hit me up for a large sum of money. A house. Jewelry. Easy things for me to give. She wanted something of no monetary value, but a huge sacrifice on my part. I wondered how she felt about me turning the tables.

“I would ask the same of you.”

She raised her chin. “That isn’t an issue.”

“You won’t miss not having sex for two years?”

Color saturated her cheeks; however, she didn’t look away. “You can’t miss what you’ve never had, Richard.”

Shock rendered me speechless. I hadn’t expected her frank confession.

“Ah,” was all I managed to croak out.

“Can you handle that?” she demanded, an edge to her voice. “I can’t abide cheating.”

I stood, then sat down on the edge of my desk in front of her. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like a nice house instead? Maybe a generous lump payment big enough you never have to worry about working for an ass like me again?”

“No.”

I sighed. “Is there nothing else I can give you as an alternative?”

“No.”

I gave in. I really had no choice. “On two conditions.”

“What?”

“You marry me this weekend after I sign with Graham. I’ll tell him we were so caught up in celebrating, we got married. He’ll buy that.”

“And the second?”

I smirked at her. “We’ll be married, Katharine. Legal. I want to know if you’d be willing to discuss, ah, expanding our boundaries at some point further into our relationship.”

Her eyes grew large. “You said you didn’t want to sleep with me.”

“Two years is a long time for a man like me.”

“You have hands.”

I burst out laughing at her candid remark. “Something for which I’m already grateful. I’m not saying it’s a given. I am asking if it could be discussed”—I winked at her—“should the need arise.”

“You don’t find me attractive. You don’t even like me! Why would you want to sleep with me?”

“I already told you I think I may have misjudged you. I do like you. You make me laugh. As for the attractive part, again, I was wrong. You’re quite pretty when you’re not dressed in rags and sporting an old woman hairstyle.”

She rolled her eyes. “Thanks. Keep up with the sweet words; I may not be able to control myself around you.”

I grinned. “It wouldn’t be all that awful, you know. I’m a good-looking man, I know my way around the bedroom, and I can make sure you enjoy yourself.”

“Wow. Hard to believe I’m the only one you ever convinced to marry you. You make it sound so great, so romantic.”

I chuckled. I did like the way she argued with me at times. “Do you agree to my terms?”

She pursed her lips. “If you agree to mine.”

“Then, Miss Elliott, I guess we’re getting married on Saturday.”

“Saturday?”

“We’ll have the license tomorrow; I’ll sign on Friday—the timing is perfect. We’ll go to city hall, say the words, snap a couple pictures, and the deed is done.”

“My dream wedding,” she murmured sarcastically.

I shrugged. “Wear a nice dress. I bought you lots of them.”

“Well, then, with an offer like that, how can I refuse?”

I held out my hand. “A pleasure doing business with you.”

Tentatively, she grasped my outstretched palm. She gasped when I yanked her close, wrapping my arm around her, pressing my lips to her ear. “I guarantee your pleasure, Katharine. Remember that.”