confused. I’m Estate’s only accountant. How can I get a promotion? Are you planning to hire an assistant for me? Because I assure you, Mr. Garrison, I can handle the workload. I don’t need help.”
“Adam,” he corrected not for the first time. She never relaxed around him. In fact, she always seemed on edge, and he didn’t know why. People—women in particular—liked him. More than one reviewer had attributed Estate’s popularity to Adam’s charm. He knew how to work a crowd, how to make guests feel welcome and want to return.
Of course, he’d never tried to charm Lauryn Lowes. She was an employee and that was a line he’d never crossed. But he would today.
“The president of the Miami Business Council is retiring next year. As you may have heard, it’s a pretty conservative group.”
She nodded.
“I’ve been an active member for years, but the council’s not willing to entertain the idea of a single guy—especially one who runs a scandalous South Beach nightclub—being in charge no matter how qualified he might be.”
“You mean you want to run for president?”
The surprise in her voice stung like salt in a fresh wound. “Yes. And the only way for me to have a chance at that nomination is to become the stable, settled guy they require. I won’t give up Estate. That means I need to acquire a wife.”
Her look of confusion grew. “What does that have to do with me?”
“You’re the perfect candidate.”
She blinked once, twice, a third time. “To be your wife?”
“Yes.”
She sat back in the chair, her posture stiffer than usual. After a few moments an uncertain smile wobbled on her lips. “I—I—You’re joking. Right?”
Nice lips, he noted. Pale pink. No lipstick. Not collagen enhanced.
Natural. That’s it. Lauryn’s a natural.
Too bad that would have to change.
“No.” He leaned forward and pulled the file pertaining to this merger from the stack on the side of his desk. “Brandon Washington—you’ve met my attorney—has drawn up the necessary paperwork. I’ll pay you five hundred thousand per year for two years plus reasonable living expenses. After that we’ll quietly divorce. We’ll have a contract and a prenuptial agreement. What’s yours stays yours including any gifts I buy you. What’s mine stays mine.”
Extracting the relevant documents, he pushed the pages across the polished wood surface toward her. She didn’t take them. “You’re welcome to have your attorney look over the agreement.”
Tightening her grip on the arms of the chair, she eyed the papers like she would a hungry gator. “You actually expect me to agree to this…proposition?”
“You’ll be paid a million dollars to do nothing for two years. Why wouldn’t you accept?”
“Because I don’t love you?”
A little surprised by her reluctance, he shrugged. He could think of several dozen women who’d jump at this chance, but they weren’t the type he needed.
“I don’t love you, either, but it’s an advantageous match for each of us and a sound business decision. You’ll move into my loft and I’ll buy you a new car. Maybe a Mercedes or a Volvo wagon. We need to give the impression we’d like to start a family soon.”
Eyes wide with shock, she made a choking sound. “A family?”
“We won’t of course, but we need to play the part.”
“Part?” she echoed.
Lauryn’s quick grasp of details was one of the things he’d liked about her at that first interview and in subsequent meetings. But she wasn’t picking up quickly now. He stifled his impatience. “The picture of domestic bliss. Stable. Settled. Rooted in the community.”
She shook her head as if bewildered. “I’m sorry. I just can’t wrap my brain around this. You’re seriously asking me to marry you?”
“Yes.”
“Mr. Garrison—Adam—” Her lips stretched in a fleeting and clearly forced smile. “I’m not the woman for this…position.”
“I think you are. You’re poised, articulate and conservative. You’re exactly what—who—I need, Lauryn.”
Although she flushed at his compliments, the words didn’t ease the starch from her spine. Biting her bottom lip between straight white teeth, she rose. Her fingers knotted so tightly at her waist that her knuckles gleamed white in the overhead fluorescent light.
“I am extremely flattered by your, um…proposal, but I’m afraid I’ll have to decline.”
“Lauryn—”
She gasped and worry pleated her brow. “My refusal isn’t going to cost me my job, is it?”
“Of course not. What kind of jerk do you think I am? But if you marry me you’ll be too busy doing whatever it is South Beach socialites do to put in a forty-hour workweek here.”
He came around the desk and stopped just inches from her. For the first time he noticed her scent. She smelled like the night-blooming vines growing on his condo neighbor’s patio with an additional kick of something spicy and alluring mixed in. “Consider it a two-year paid vacation. Pampering, shopping—”
“But I enjoy my job. And I like working. I’m sorry, but no thank you. I’m sure you can find someone else who—”
“I don’t want anyone else. I want you.”
She snapped to attention at his adamant tone and lifted a trembling hand to push her glasses up the bridge of her nose. Adam intercepted, curling his fingers around hers. A spark ignited on contact. He blamed it on the knowledge he was crossing the employee/employer line by touching her and invading her space. Always a risky proposition in this litigious age.
He removed her glasses with his other hand. She had extraordinary eyes. Brighter than olives. Darker than grass. The exact shade of the waters off Miami’s coast.
His pulse quickened and his mouth moistened.
Because of what’s at stake, he told himself.
He sure as hell wasn’t attracted to his mousy bookkeeper. But not being repelled by her was good. Considering…
“I’d be a good husband.” His voice came out huskier than intended. He cleared his throat and continued. “I guarantee you’ll be satisfied.”
A beat later her eyes widened. “You’re saying we’d sleep together?”
“Maybe not sleep. I like my space. I have a study we can convert into a bedroom for you. You’ll have privacy when you need it. But for appearances’ sake this must appear to be a normal marriage in every way.”
“But you’d expect sex. With me.” She didn’t sound as if she relished the idea and that pricked his pride. He was good in bed, dammit. He’d been perfecting his technique since he was sixteen. And he never left a woman unsatisfied.
“Definitely. We’ll be together for two years. That’s a long time to be celibate. Infidelity would negate the purpose of the union by showing I couldn’t be trusted.”
She gaped for a full ten seconds and then yanked her hand free, plucked her glasses from his grasp and backed toward the door. “No. I can’t. I won’t.”
She was turning him down? When had a woman ever turned him down? Hell, when had he ever even had to voice an invitation? Usually he cocked an eyebrow and his choice for the night rushed forward to do whatever he asked. Whatever he wanted.
He had to change Lauryn’s mind. She was the