The Contract (The Contract 1)

I went to my room and had to pause for a moment. Katharine was everywhere. Her robe was draped across the end of the bed, the deep red silk shimmering in the light. A few pictures of Penny and us were sprinkled around. The once empty night table had books and a half-full glass on it. The top of the dresser had her favorite perfume, jars, and bottles strewn around. Without even looking, I knew the bottom drawers of the dresser now held her clothes, and the closet still housed the contents of hers she had planned on moving back this week. In the bathroom, her toothbrush was beside mine; her daily skin care items were on the counter. She must have moved like a tornado, to make sure it looked like this was her room, too.

She was waiting when I got out of the shower, holding the cold compress and pills. She had shut the door, giving us some privacy.

“How much time did you have?” I asked, keeping my voice low.

“About fifty minutes. A bunch of items are in the boxes I had unpacked. I switched things around as fast as I could when she called, crying, asking if she could come. She called the cell phone—I told her I was out and would be home in an hour. I didn’t know how to say no.”

“You couldn’t,” I acknowledged.

“Are you okay with this?”

I sighed and held out my hand for the pills. “It’s fine. Thank God, it’s a king-sized bed. You stick to your half, I’ll stick to mine.” I smirked. “You can have a close encounter of the wheezing.”

Her eyes grew round, making me snicker. She’d been so anxious to set the scene, she hadn’t thought about what happened later. Swallowing the pills, I reached for the bottle of water she was holding.

“Unless, of course, you’d like to revisit the whole ‘fucking, no fucking’ topic. You’ve already resisted me for a month.”

She glowered, and I couldn’t resist bending down and brushing her mouth. “Think about it, sweetheart,” I murmured against her softness.

I was getting weary of my hand.

She slammed her hands on her hips. “I doubt you’re up to your usual stellar performance at this moment. Especially being so out of practice—and having a headache.”

I smirked as I collapsed onto the mattress, groaning with relief when she laid the compress on my head.

“I’d be willing to put forth my best effort.”

I was shocked to feel her mouth on mine again.

“Go fuck yourself, VanRyan.”

Her words had no venom, and my offer was bullshit. We both knew it, and we both laughed, the sound of our joint amusement low in the room.

“Rest, I’ll come get you for dinner.”

I caught her hand and kissed it.

“You’re going soft,” she chided, running her hand over my aching head.

I shut my eyes and surrendered to her gentle touch.

“All your fault,” I mumbled.

“I know,” she replied as the door closed.RICHARD

SPENDING AN EVENING WITH TWO nervous, tense females proved to be interesting.

Jenna was unnaturally still, which was disconcerting itself, but Katharine was the bigger surprise. I had gotten used to her quiet nature, but tonight, she rambled.

Incessantly.

Between showing Jenna her plans for the living area, “our room,” asking endless questions about the history of yoga, the general inquiries about every member of the Gavin family and office, as well as any other subject that seemed to filter through her brain, she talked non-stop. Also, she never sat down. She flitted around the room, using her hands to demonstrate her ideas. She picked, moved, tidied, and straightened every object in the room at least twice. She kept patting Jenna’s shoulder, making sure she was okay, and the cold compress she kept on my neck was switched out every twenty minutes. I didn’t think it ever reached room temperature. I had to admit, when she stood behind me, chatting, I didn’t mind the way her fingers felt as she massaged my neck, or the way she tilted my head back to the softness of her stomach and ran her fingers through my hair repeatedly. The soothing action felt good, and my headache began to dissipate, despite the constant chatter.

Still, her behavior was perplexing. Even Jenna quirked her eyebrow at me more than once. I shrugged one shoulder, offering the only thing I felt made sense when Katharine was out of earshot.

“She doesn’t like storms, either.”

My explanation seemed to satisfy her curiosity.

Around ten, the storm lessened, the thunder tapering to a low occasional growl, although the rain continued to beat on the glass around us.

Jenna stood. “I’m going to go stick in my ear buds, turn up the music, and put on a night mask. Maybe I can fall asleep before the next wave hits.”

Katharine stood, as well. “Are you sure you’ll be okay? I can sleep on the chaise and be close.”