to communicate in the bedroom.”
She snorted. “Because I’m frigid.”
“Er…right.”
“And you’re impotent.”
“Ri—Wrong!” Sheesh. A bead of sweat broke out on his upper lip. “That’s, uh, not what our profile says.”
“Because you filled it out. Look, Knox, if you think for one minute that I’m taking the total blame for our sorry sex life and our failing marriage during this farce, you’d better think again. You wanted this story, so you’d better damn well be ready to play your part. If I’m frigid, then, by God, you’re going to be impotent.”
Knox felt his balls shrivel up with dread. He set his jaw so hard he feared it would crack. She had to be the most competitive, argumentative female he’d ever encountered. The bigger picture, he reminded himself. Think of the bigger picture. “If you insist,” he said tightly.
“I do.”
“Fine.” He blew out a breath. “There are still a few more things we need to go over. As for our occupations, I’m a veterinarian and you’re my assistant.”
She quirked a brow. “That’s a bit of a stretch.”
Smiling, Knox shrugged. “I got carried away.”
Savannah’s lips curled into a genuine smile, not the cynical smirk she usually wore, and the difference between the two was simply breathtaking. It was a sweet grin, devoid of any sentiment but real humor. To Knox’s disquiet, he felt a buzz of heat hum along his spine.
“Be that as it may, I hope we’re not called upon to handle a pet emergency,” she said wryly. “I don’t know the first thing about animals.”
“What? No Spot or Fluffy in your past?”
A shadow passed over her face. “No, I’m afraid not.”
Knox waited a beat to see if she would elaborate, and when she didn’t, he filed that information away for future consideration and moved to fill the sudden silence. “Look in the front pocket of my laptop case, would you?”
Savannah turned and hefted the case from the back floorboard. She unzipped the front pouch. “What am I looking for? Your Viagra?”
“No.” He smiled. “Just something to authenticate our marriage. Our rings are in there.”
A line emerged between her brows and she paused to look at him. “Rings?”
Knox reached over, pilfered through the pocket and withdrew a couple of small velvet boxes. “Yeah, rings. Married people wear them. Fourth finger, left hand, closest to the heart.”
“Ooh, I’m impressed. How does an impotent bachelor like you know all that sentimental swill?”
“I’m not impotent,” Knox growled. “And I know because, having been best man at three different weddings in the past year, it’s my business to know.”
Savannah nodded. “Hmm.”
“Hmm, what?” Knox asked suspiciously, casting her a sidelong glance.
She lifted one shoulder in a negligent shrug. “I’m surprised, that’s all.”
“Surprised that I’ve been a best man?”
“No, surprised that you had three male friends. I’ve never seen you with anyone but the opposite sex.”
Knox shivered dramatically. “Oh, that’s cold.”
“Well, what do you expect? Us frigid unable-to-climax types are like that.”
Smothering a smile, he tossed the smallest box to her. “Just put on your ring, Barbie.”
Savannah lifted the lid and calmly withdrew the plain gold band. Anxiety knotted his gut. Though it had been completely unreasonable, Knox had found himself poring over tray after tray, trying to find the perfect band for her finger. He’d finally gotten disgusted with himself—they weren’t really getting married, for Pete’s sake—and had selected the simple unadorned band. Savannah didn’t seem the type for flash and sparkle.
She seemed curiously reluctant to put it on, but finally slipped the ring over her knuckle and fitted it into place. She turned her hand this way and that. “It’s lovely. And it fits perfectly. Good job, Knox. It had never occurred to me that we’d need rings. Where did you get these?”
With an inaudible sigh, Knox opened his own box, snagged his equally simple band and easily pushed it into place. “My jeweler, of course.”
She winced. “Would have been cheaper to have gone to the pawnshop.”
“Call me superstitious, but I didn’t want to jinx this marriage—even a fake one—with unlucky bands.”
“Unlucky bands?” she repeated dubiously.
“Yes. Unlucky. Think about it—if they’d been lucky they’d still be on their owners’ fingers, not in a cheap fake-velvet tray in a pawnshop.” He tsked. “Bad karma.”
She chuckled, gazing at him with a curious expression not easily read. “You’re right. You are superstitious.”
“We’re here,” Knox announced needlessly. He whistled low as he wheeled the rented sedan into a parking space in front of the impressive compound—compound meaning mansion. The nudge behind his navel gave another powerful jab as Knox gazed at the cool, elegant facade of the Shea’s so-called compound. When Knox thought of a compound, rows of cheap low-slung utilitarian buildings came to mind. This was easily a million-dollar spread and there was nothing low-slung or utilitarian about the impressive residence before him.
The house, a bright, almost blindingly white stucco, was a two-story Spanish dream, with a red tiled roof and a cool, inviting porch that ran the length of the house. The front doors were a work of art in and of themselves, arched double mahogany wonders with an inlaid sunburst design in heavy leaded glass. Huge urns filled with bright flowering plants were scattered about the porch, along with several plush chaise longues and comfortable chairs.
Knox would have expected a place like this to have been professionally landscaped, but there was a whimsical, unplanned feel to the various shrubs and flora, as though the gardener had simply planted at will with no particular interest in traditional landscaping. There were no borders, no pavers, and no mulch to speak of, just clumps of flowers, greenery and the occasional odd shrub and ornamental tree. Julio, his parents’ gardener, who was prone to a symmetrical design, would undoubtedly have an apoplectic fit if he saw this charmingly chaotic approach to landscaping.
“Quite a layout, huh?” Savannah murmured.
Knox nodded grimly. “Quite.”
Savannah unbuckled her seat belt. “Before we go in, just what exactly is your opinion of tantric sex?”
Knox surveyed his surroundings once more. “In this case, I think it’s a lucrative load of crap.”
“For once we’re in agreement.”
