The Contract (25 page)

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t you get tired of it, Richard? The lies? We seem to add more all the time. It’s like a snowball that grows as it rolls down a snowy hill.” She sighed. “It was supposed to be a simple thing—me pretending to be your fiancée. Now it has grown and escalated to the point I don’t even recognize myself! I hate lying to people—and I’m lying to everyone! Penny, the Gavin family, people at the care home . . . It’s one huge mountain of lies!”

“It’s a means to an end. No one is getting hurt.”

“Really? I think you’re wrong.”

“How do you figure that?” I waved my hand around the room. “Graham isn’t suffering, Penny is being looked after, you’re living in a better place, and you don’t have to work. Who is getting hurt?”

Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I feel guilty—more so every day.”

“Why?”

“I like these people. I really like Jenna; we’ve become friends. Knowing I’m lying to her bothers me. Graham and Laura have been nothing but kind. It’s as if I’m betraying them with this farce. The people at the home think we’re married.”

“We are,” I insisted. “It’s not a farce. Our marriage is legal.”

“They think it’s
real
. They think we’re in love. And Penny . . . I never wanted Penny to know. I didn’t want to have to lie to her of all people. I hate lying to her the most.”

“You know she’ll probably forget.”

Katharine rolled her eyes. “It’s still a lie. Tami and others will keep reminding her, so she may not forget. And there’s Adrian, Adam, Julia . . .” She huffed in exasperation. “The list grows.”

Drumming my fingers on the desk, I shrugged. “It’s bigger than I expected, I’ll give you that much. Even Brian thinks I had a change of heart. When we played golf the other day, he congratulated me on finally finding my ‘human side.’”

“It doesn’t bother you? How many people this lie touches? How many people it will affect when it’s done?”

“Katharine, stop being overdramatic. Marriages break up all the time. The world will go on. We’ll figure out the hows and whys when we decide the time is right.”

“And, in the meantime, we keep lying.”

I was done with this inane conversation. I rubbed my head and scowled. “Yes. We keep lying. I’m still paying you, and it’s still a job. Until further notice, you are my wife. Keep acting the part. Pretend you like me. Dig deep, and imagine you love me. Do whatever you need to do to keep up the ‘farce,’ as you call it.”

She rose to her feet, shaking her head. “That’s the rub here, Richard. I don’t always have to pretend to like you. When you stop acting like such an asshole, you’re a decent man. You respond to people. You’re kind and generous to Penny. For some reason, you forget to be that asshole you show the rest of the world when you’re around her. Sometimes, you forget even when you’re around me.” Her expression was sad and her voice dejected. “Sometimes, I forget you dislike me and I think we’re actually friends.”

She strode to the door, paused, and looked back. “I like those times. They make the rest of the days easier to take.”

Then she walked out, leaving me stunned.

RICHARD

KATHARINE WAS QUIET THE REST
of the evening. The rain came and went, eventually easing off around midnight. Jenna sensed the turmoil in the air and tried to be discreet. At one point, she asked me if Katharine was all right.

“We, ah, had a disagreement,” I admitted. Couples argued; my response—it seemed probable.

“Because of what happened earlier?”

“Yes.” I didn’t tell her to which earlier occurrence it pertained. I let her think it was what happened with Penny.

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No, it’s fine.”

“Don’t go to bed angry. Talk it out,” she encouraged. “I’ll head up soon and give you some privacy.”

Unsure how else to respond, I nodded. I had no idea what to say to Katharine, but as soon as Jenna went upstairs, she followed. I waited a while, shut off the TV, and joined her in my bedroom. She was already in bed, curled up and close to the edge. I got ready and slipped in behind her small, warm body. I hesitated, then reached over, tugging her back to my torso.

“Don’t be angry with me.”

“I’m not, just sad.” She sighed.

“I can’t change who I am.”

She rolled in the dark to face me. “I think in some ways you
have
changed.”

“Maybe,” I admitted. “Still, it doesn’t change how I feel about certain things—children and love are two of them.”

“Everything is black and white with you.”

“It has to be. It’s how I deal with life.”

“You miss so much.”

I trailed my finger down her cheek, touching the softness of her skin in the dark. A trace of dampness lingered, and I knew she’d been crying. It bothered me, thinking of her lying there, upset.

“Katharine,” I began.

“What?” she whispered.

“I know this got bigger and more complex. I know you’re a better person than I am, and it bothers you. I didn’t expect the Gavins to be part of our life outside the office. I hadn’t planned on meeting Penny and being fond of her. There isn’t anything we can do about that now except go with the flow. I can’t change my outlook because it’s what I believe. There is something you’re wrong about, however.”

“What is that?”

I cupped her cheek, bringing her face close to mine. “I don’t dislike you. Far from it. I regret every nasty word, every lousy fucking errand I sent you on, and every dirty job I got you to do. I think you’re incredibly brave to have agreed to do this with me, and the reasons you did it are astonishing to me. You are selfless and kind, and the fact you’ve become so
important
to me is a testament to how special you are.”

Hot tears ran down her face. I groaned, unable to handle more emotion today. “Jeez, woman.” I growled playfully. “I try to be nice and you cry. I give up. I’ll go back to being a jerk.”

She patted my hand. “No, it’s fine. I’ll stop.” She sniffed. “That was unexpected. That’s all.”

“I’m trying to apologize.”

She lifted her face, brushing her mouth to mine. “Accepted.”

I buried my hands in her hair, holding her close. I pressed my mouth to hers, wanting to taste her once more. She responded with a low sigh, her breath drifting over my face. Long moments passed as our lips moved together, tongues touched and teased. Desire built, slow and heavy, and my body hummed with need. With a moan, I drew back, staring down at her. Her lips were swollen, her breathing fast. I traced her bottom lip with my finger.

“Katharine,” I murmured in a husky voice as I ran my hand up her bare leg.

She lifted her head, and just as her mouth met mine, we heard it. A crack of unexpected thunder followed by a crash in the guest room and a loud yell.

I groaned, dropping my head to her shoulder. “Fucking Jenna,
again
.”

She huffed out a huge exhale of air. “Well, hell. I think she broke my damn lamp. I
liked
that lamp.”

I began to laugh at her rare colorful statement. I rolled off her, throwing an arm over my face. “Go see what your
friend
has done now.”

She slid out of bed, hesitating. The dim moonlight behind her highlighted her silhouette through her wispy nightgown. She had filled out a little, her body softening with curves. With her hair tumbled over her shoulders, her eyes wide with desire, she looked sexy. Sexy as hell, in fact.

“Go.” I growled. “If you don’t, I won’t be responsible for what happens next.”

Pivoting, she hurried to the door.

“Katharine,” I called.

She turned, her hand resting on the doorknob.

I gentled my voice. “If the lamp is broken, I’ll buy you a new one.”

Her smile was brilliant. “Okay.”

I flopped back on the bed.

What the hell was I doing? That was twice today I had wanted to fuck her thoroughly—the woman I once wanted out of my life. Now, she was all around me. In every aspect of my life. In my bed.

The strangest part? I didn’t mind any of it.

“Katharine, syrup is a condiment. Not a food group.”

She looked up from her plate, already shaking her head. “Each hole needs to be filled with syrup, Richard. It’s a rule.”

I snorted as I lifted my mug to my mouth. “You’re drowning the waffle. There’s more syrup than food on your plate.”

“It’s better like this.”

I groaned. “And you add bacon?”

She hummed around her mouthful. “Perfect.”

Jenna chuckled as she cut into her breakfast. “Not a syrup fan, Richard?”

“I added a reasonable amount. I want to taste the waffle, too.”

Katharine held out a forkful in my direction. “Try it.”

“No.”

“Please?”

I speared a piece of my far dryer waffle. “Then you try mine.”

We fed each other pieces of breakfast. Hers was dripping in syrup and butter, way sweeter than I was used to. I grimaced. “That is god-awful.”

She grinned. “Better than yours.” Looking down, she cursed. “Darn it, I got syrup on my shirt. Excuse me.”

She hurried out of the kitchen. I waited until she had disappeared and grabbed the bottle of syrup, adding more to my waffle.

Jenna giggled. “The two of you are so sweet. Have you never eaten waffles together?”

I had to think fast. “No, Katharine always made pancakes. I bought her the waffle iron for a wedding gift.”

Jenna gaped at me “You gave her a waffle iron for a
wedding gift
?”

“She wanted one!”

“Good Lord, Richard, you have a lot to learn about romance.”

“She got me.”

Jenna picked up her coffee mug. “Hmmph. Maybe the waffle iron was the better gift.”

I glared. “When are you going home?”

She smirked. “Adrian will be here soon.”

“Good.”

She pushed on my arm with a playful wink. “I interrupted your make-up session last night. Sorry. The thunder caught me off guard.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Of course not. Katharine is always that, ah, disheveled.”

I smirked. She had looked rather rumpled when she left the bedroom last night.

I winked at Jenna. “We have the rest of the day to make out. I mean up. Or both.”

She rolled her eyes, muttering about men and one-track minds.

I kept eating my now syrup-laden waffle.

I came out of the den, looking for Katharine. Jenna had left mid-afternoon, and I had gotten busy with some work, then had a call from Graham. I heard noises down the hall and went to investigate. The door to the smallest bedroom was open. I used the room for storage now. At one time, it held a bed, and I used it for my female guests and the after dinner activities, since I didn’t ever take them upstairs. I had gotten rid of the bed when Katharine moved in—all that remained were boxes and files.

I leaned on the doorframe, watching her for a few moments, an indulgent smile tugging on my lips. “What are you doing?”

She indicated a few framed pictures. “You have some nice prints in here.”

“I wasn’t sure where to put those.”

“They’d look great in the front room.” She lifted some photographs from the box she’d been sorting. “These are lovely shots—shame to see them packed away.”

I held out my hand, and she placed the stack of photos in it.