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I’ll say this about Christian — he made one hell of a first impression. When I first saw the strapping man, he was doing handstands naked on a dock along the canal. His crown jewels were far more entertaining than anything else I’d seen on the boat tour, so I did what any curious woman would do — I took his photo. I might have looked at the shot a few dozen times. Little did I know I’d meet him again, a year later, at a secret garden bar in the heart of the city, where I’d learn that his mind and his mouth were even more captivating. But given the way my heart had been trampled, I wanted only a simple deal — No strings. No expectations.
Our arrangement worked well enough until the day I needed a lot more from him…
***
Let me just say, this whole part-time lover thing was her idea. I’d have gone all-in from the start, but hey, when a gorgeous, brilliant woman invites you into her bed, and only her bed…well, I said yes.
But then, one hysterical phone call from my brother later, begging me to find myself a wife so grandfather’s business stays in the family, and I need a promotion with Elise. Turns out a full-time husband suits her needs too, and a temporary marriage of convenience ought to do the trick, until we can simply untie the knot…
As long as no one finds out… As long as no one gets hurt… As long as no one falls in love… But our ending was one I never saw coming.
Excerpt:
~Christian~
A year ago
I stroll
up the hilly yard toward my house, passing my brother, Erik, who stands close
to the porch. “Did you scare them all away? Admit it—they cringed in terror,
scary movie—style.”
I slash an
arm through the air. “Whole boatload of them. Tears, shrieks of horror.
Wailing.”
He cringes
dramatically.
“Toss me a
towel, will you? Or do you want to continue to admire your more fit and
handsome younger brother?”
Erik
scoffs and throws the towel over the porch railing, away from me.
I shrug.
“I’ll just go inside, and you can check out my arse.”
“You can
count on me never ever checking out your arse.”
I grab the
handle on the sliding-glass door and head inside to one of my homes. You can’t
beat a home on the water. But then, a flat in Paris is hard for me to say no to
as well. Good thing I get to have both.
I grab the
pair of boxer briefs I left on the couch and tug them on as Erik follows me
inside.
“Seriously.
How did it go?”
“Exceptionally
well. I landed a date tonight.”
“Bastard.
You’re not supposed to get dates when you flash the tourists, and especially
not when your beloved brother is only in town with you for a few days.” Most of
the time Erik’s in London, where we were raised.
“Jealous
much?” I ask, heading for the fridge and pouring a glass of cold water.
Erik
flexes a bicep, then another, posing like he’s Mr. Olympia. “I’ve scored plenty
of dates with this fabulous physique. Just none lately.”
“That
would be because you’re married, you tosser.”
He flashes
a dimpled grin. He’s so ridiculously in love with his wife, it’s nearly
disgusting. He could be the poster child for
man-who-falls-arse-over-elbow-for-a-woman. That’s something I can’t say for all
the men in my family.
“I’m like
Grandfather, happy as a clam.”
I furrow
my brow. “How does anyone know clams are happy? Is there a study on clam
happiness? We all assume they’re rays of sunshine, but how do we know?”
He
scratches his chin. “Good question.”
“I bet
they aren’t happy at all. I bet they feel nothing. Is that what happiness
should feel like? Nothing?”
He sighs.
“Aren’t you philosophical today?”
“Maybe. It
happens every now and then.” I take a drink of the water. “But what can you do?
Sometimes deep thoughts stray into my brain, and I can’t help it.”
“Best to
get them out of your head if you have a date tonight.”
“Perhaps
she likes thinkers,” I suggest.
“So who is
she? Did you exchange numbers on the dock? Or did you, I don’t know, play
charades with your appendages swinging in the breeze?”
“Yes. I
can do Morse code with my dick.”
“Such a
useful skill,” he deadpans.
“We did it
the old-fashioned way. Picked a spot to meet and a time.”
He raises
his chin. “And why her? Of all the ladies on all the tours you’ve ever flashed,
you haven’t asked one out before. Not that you’ve told me about anyway.”
I let my
brain rewind to the petite brunette with the big sunglasses who ogled me
unabashedly from the side of the boat. She was pretty, that much I could tell
even from fifty feet away.
But pretty
alone isn’t enough. Pretty is a dime a dozen. I’ve dated women who aren’t
pretty, but are witty, clever, and keep me on my toes. I like those traits just
as much. Perhaps more. But I’m not opposed to pretty either.
Obviously.
“She was
bold. She called out bravo. She said
it louder than anyone ever has.”
“So she
knows how to read your Morse code.”
“She’s
welcome to read Morse code on me anytime. Come to think of it, she can even
treat me like I’m fruit at the market.”
Erik
laughs. “In some countries, they don’t let you touch fruit at the market.”
I gesture
to my body, from my chest down to my legs. “In the fine country of Christian
Land, it’s highly encouraged for the bold brunettes to touch t
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