to a smaller bedroom via the bathroom. The door locks from the other side. You may have that one or one on the first floor if you like. My staff is paid well to exercise discretion, so we don’t need to worry about them tattling to the immigration bureau that the marriage is fake. Of course, we will need to put on some appearances as if we’re happily married.”
“I’m not sure I can do that.” She cut in before thinking better of it. How could she explain that she didn’t think she could let a man touch her without jumping out of her skin? She didn’t have to. Warren didn’t miss a beat.
“I don’t mean with public displays of affection.” His smile turned wry. “No one who knows me would be shocked if I never touched my wife in public. What would be shocking is if I put my cell phone down long enough to do so.”
That did it. Her lungs loosened, allowing her to breathe. Finally. Sweet air rushed into her system and she went a little lightheaded from relief. She found herself matching his smile without fully realizing he’d affected her enough for that. “I see your point. They would probably call the authorities much faster if you showered me with attention. Perhaps we’ll let them think of us as having an affair of the mind.”
They shared a moment of understanding that grew sharper the longer they stared at each other. The man was brilliant, sexy without being in your face about it and respectful of her boundaries. How much closer could they become if she lowered a few?
Warren cleared his throat first and looked away. “What I meant was that you might have to accompany me to family functions so as not to raise eyebrows. The last thing we need is immigration questioning whether we married strictly for the green card. The attorney I consulted said they do investigate red flags.”
She nodded. “I got you.”
“Also, you should know that I’m not warm and fuzzy in a relationship. Acting like I’m in love is frankly outside my skill set. I wouldn’t know what that looks like, nor do I intend to learn.”
“That’s fine with me.” Perfect, actually. She didn’t know what love looked like, either, and trying to fake it would only bring up issues she’d rather leave in the dark. Boundaries were her friends. Always. “In that case, I accept your proposal.”
“Great. I’ll have some papers for you to sign tomorrow, a standard prenuptial agreement and the marriage license application. We’ll go to the justice of the peace on Friday, as mentioned, and then it will be done.”
Warren reached out a hand and she clasped it. A handshake to seal the deal. Should have been innocuous enough and seemed appropriate under the circumstances.
But the moment their flesh connected, a jolt of electricity shot up her arm and her awareness of him as a man settled deep inside. Not just a man. One who would be her husband.
Her little crush might be wholly inadvisable, but as Warren held her hand, she didn’t for a moment believe she had the will to stop finding him inconveniently and enormously attractive.
Jonas Kim and Hendrix Harris met Warren at the courthouse on Friday. Predictably, his best friends since college didn’t miss the opportunity to give him a hard time about his impending marriage. Warren had fully expected it after the equally hard time he’d given both of them when they’d gotten married.
The difference here was that Warren wasn’t breaking the pact the three of them had made their senior year at Duke University. Jonas and Hendrix had. They’d broken the pact seven ways to Sunday and without shame, no less. After Marcus had committed suicide over his irreparably broken heart, the three surviving friends had shaken hands and vowed to never fall in love.
Warren would stick to that until the day he died. His friends might have found ways to excuse their faithlessness to themselves, but Warren was still working on forgiving them for putting their hearts at risk in their own marriages.
“Well, well, well.” Jonas crossed his arms and gave Warren a once-over that held a wealth of meaning as his two friends cleared the metal detector at the entrance to the Wake County Courthouse in downtown Raleigh. “I do believe this is what eating crow looks like. Don’t you agree, Hendrix?”
“I do.” His other friend shot Warren a grin that sharpened his already ridiculous cheekbones. “It also looks like I should have put money on whether Warren would eventually get that mouth full of feathers when I had a chance.”
“Ha, ha. It’s not like that,” Warren growled.
It wasn’t. His marriage did not compare to his friends’ situations; both of them had married women they already had relationships with. Jonas had married his friend Viv to avoid an arranged marriage with a stranger, and Hendrix had married Roz to end a scandal caused by risqué photographs of the two of them. They’d both sworn they weren’t going to cross any lines, but it had only been a matter of time before things started getting mushy.
Mushy was not even remotely in the realm of possibility for Warren.
“What’s it like, then?” Jonas asked. “Tell us how it’s even possible that you’re getting married after being so high and mighty about it when me and Hendrix came to you with our plans.”
“I’m marrying Tilda because I can’t trash Down Under Thunder without her. This is a Hail Mary designed to keep her in the country. No other reason. End of story.”
“Oh, so she’s a hag you would never look at twice on the street. I get it,” Jonas said with a smart-ass nod.
Hendrix shook his head. “That’s just sad, if so.”
“Shut up. She’s not a hag. Tilda is gorgeous.” The headache brewing between Warren’s eyes stabbed a little harder as his friends gave each other knowing glances laden with a side of I told you so. “This marriage is strictly business. I would never be anything less than professional with an employee.”
“Except you are,” Jonas countered. “You’re moving her into your house tomorrow. Trust me when I say that leads to all sorts of things you might swear on your mother’s life you would never contemplate, but it happens, man. First you’re having a drink together after work and next thing you know, you’re giving your in-name-only bride diamonds and orgasms in the foyer.”
“Or in the linen closet at your wedding reception,” Hendrix threw in helpfully with a gleam in his eye. He and his new wife had pulled just such a disappearing at the social event of the season.
“There are no linen closets here,” Warren pointed out unnecessarily, not that he had to explain himself to his friends. But he was going to anyway, because they needed to be clear that he was the lone holdout in their pact.
Marcus’s suicide was not something Warren had ever taken lightly, and neither was the vow he’d made to honor his roommate’s death. Love had stolen a young man’s life. Warren would never let that be his fate. “I’ve never done anything more than shake Tilda’s hand as a form of sealing our arrangement. She’s working on my project, not working her way into my bed. This is not about my sex life. Period.”
“We’ll see about that.” Hendrix jerked his chin over Warren’s shoulder. “Would that lovely lady be your intended bride? She looks like your type.”
Warren
