The Contract (11 page)

I was silent on the car ride back, overwhelmed and tired. I carried my packages up to the condo, letting myself in with my keys. I heard music coming from down the hall. I knew Richard was busy working out, so I hung my new dress in the closet, put away the few other items I had brought back with me, then called the home to check on Penny. Her primary nurse told me she was sleeping, but it hadn’t been a good day, so I shouldn’t visit. Sadness engulfed me as I sat looking out the window. I hated days like today; however, she was right. Going would only upset me further.

Instead, I went back downstairs and rummaged around in the kitchen. It was well equipped, yet held little food except for some fruit and a few condiments in the cupboards and refrigerator.

“Looking for something?”

I straightened up, startled. Richard was slouched against the doorframe, a towel draped around his broad shoulders. His skin glistened with a thin sheen of sweat, his hair damp, and he still looked perfect.

“You don’t have much food.”

“I have no idea how to cook. I do takeout, or my housekeeper leaves me something.”

“Housekeeper?” He hadn’t mentioned having a housekeeper.

He nodded, taking a drink from the bottle of water he was holding. “I need to hire one. The last one left about two weeks ago.” He waved his hand. “They come and go.”

I hid my amusement. That news wasn’t surprising.

“I cook.”

He smirked. “So you mentioned.”

I ignored his sarcastic tone. “I can keep the place clean and do the shopping and cooking.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

“Why would you want to?”

“Richard,” I started patiently, “I’m not working now. I have lots of time on my hands. Why would you want to hire someone else when I’m here anyway?”

His brow furrowed as he thought about it.

“It would seem natural to other people.” At his confused look, I explained. “That I would look after our home. That I would look after, ah,
you.
”

He scratched the back of his neck, obviously unsure. “Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Okay—for now. Use your card to pay for everything.”

I nodded.

“Anything you need to keep the place clean. Buy it. If you need help, get it.”

“Okay.”

I felt relieved. It would feel normal to do the shopping and make dinner. Stay busy and clean the condo.

“How did your call go with the lawyer?”

“Good.” He drained the bottle, tossing it in the recycle bin in the corner. “How was your shopping?”

I rolled my eyes. “Quite the list you gave her.”

“I told you I wanted new everything for you.”

“Well, you got it.”

He stepped closer, rubbing the sleeve of my T-shirt with his long fingers. “I like this.”

“Good. You bought it.”

“Did you spend lots of my money?”

“Tons. Pretty sure I put you in the poor house.”

To my surprise, he smiled. A real smile that lit up his eyes, making him appear boyish and younger. “Finally, you do what I tell you to do.”

I snorted.

He reached past me and picked up an envelope. “Here.”

Gingerly, I took the envelope; it felt hard and bulky under my fingers. “What is it?”

“The keys to your car.”

“My car?” I squeaked.

“I told you I’d get you one. It’s in space 709, beside my other two. Your pass is in there, as well. It gets you in and out of the garage.”

“What . . .?”

“It’s a Lexus. Safe. Reliable. It’s red—like your shirt.”

“Unnecessary.”

“No. It is needed. It’s all part of the image, Katharine. We’re selling us as a couple—the details are important. Remember that.” He shrugged. “It’s got good resale value anyway, when this is done. If you don’t want to keep it, you can sell it. Either way, it’s yours. Part of the deal.”

I shook my head. “How can you afford all this? I know you were well paid, but not
that
well paid.”

His face darkened. “When my parents died, I inherited a great deal of money.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, Richard. I didn’t know. Did they pass recently?”

His shoulders tightened; his stance tense. “Fourteen years ago. It wasn’t a great loss, so save your sympathy. It was the first time their actions benefitted me.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond to his statement.

“So, don’t worry about the money.”

He turned and walked out of the kitchen. “I’m going for a shower, then I’ll order dinner. I left you a list on the table; you can look it over. We’ll start talking when I come back. We need to get this all down pat.”

“More image work?”

“You got it. Find a good bottle of red in the rack. I think I’m going to need it.” He threw another smirk my way. “If you know a good one when you see it, that is.”

On that pleasant note, he left me glaring after him.

RICHARD

When I returned, Katharine was perched on one of the high chairs. There was a bottle of wine opened, and she was sipping from a glass, studying the papers in front of her. I drew in a deep breath, and crossed the room. I had her list with me, so we could discuss the details. We needed to cram as much of our histories in tonight to bluff our way through tomorrow. We had to convince Graham we were the real deal. I knew it was going to be a long evening.

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?”

“Yes.” Then she grinned—the most mischievous expression crossing her face.

“What?”

“If you call me sweetheart, do I get to call you something, ah,
special,
too?”

“I’m not one for nicknames. What did you have in mind?”

“Something simple.”

I could live with that. “Like?”

“Dick,” she stated with a straight face.

“No.”

“Why not? It’s a short form of your name, and it, ah,
suits you
, on so many levels.”

I gave her a sharp look. I was sure she knew the nickname was attached to me in the industry and was trying to poke fun. “No. Pick something else.”

“I’ll have to think about it.”

“You do that. Dick is off the table, though.”

Her lips quirked.

I rolled my eyes. “Give it up, Katharine.”

“Fine. Dick works so well, but I’ll try.”

I ignored her obvious humor. “No—enough.” I stepped in front of her, meeting her amused gaze. “Now, shall we practice?”

“Practice?”

I picked up the remote and hit play, changing the music until a low, gentle melody hummed through the speakers. “Dance with me. Get used to how it feels to be close to me.” I held out my hand, saying the one word I never used with her until the past few days. “Please.”

She let me drag her to her feet and awkwardly she moved closer. With a sigh, I wound my arm around her waist, tugged her close, and breathed in the scent of her hair wafting up into the air. We began moving, and I was surprised how natural it felt. Far smaller than the women I was used to, she barely met my shoulders; her head fit under my chin. She seemed slight and fragile in my arms, yet she molded against my body well. After a few minutes, she lost the stiffness in her shoulders, letting me lead her around the room effortlessly. She was unexpectedly graceful as she moved, given how often I had watched her trip on her own feet.

A voice spoke in my head, whispering maybe what she needed all along was someone to hold her up, rather than tear her down.

That brought me up short, and I jerked back, staring down at her. She blinked up at me, filled with trepidation, and I realized she was expecting some sort of nasty remark. Instead, I cupped her cheek, and her eyes grew wider.

“What are you doing?”

“Kissing you.”

“Why?”

“Practice.”

Her breathy “oh,” hit my mouth as my lips touched hers. They were surprisingly soft and pliant, melding to mine with ease. It wasn’t an unpleasant sensation; in fact, I felt a trail of warmth run down my spine at the contact. I released her lips, only to drop my head and kiss her again, this time a fast brushing of my mouth on hers.

I stepped back, releasing my hold on her. The air around us was thick, and I smirked. “See, not so bad. It won’t kill you to kiss me.”

“Nor you,” she retorted, a tremor in her voice.

I barked out a laugh. “I guess not. Whatever it takes to get the job done.”

“Right.”

I grabbed the remote, turning off the music. “Well done, Katharine. We’ve done enough bonding for the evening. Tomorrow is a big day, so I think we both need to get some rest.”