LITMIR.BIZ

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accent did not settle the swirl still heating her core after being treated to his smile. One minute into their business discussion about resolving the issue with her visa her body had already betrayed her. She cleared her throat. “And when my visa is renewed, we will dissolve the marriage.”

      He nodded. “An annulment. My lawyers will take care of everything. I’ve already laid out the pertinent points to them in an email. I just need your agreement before I hit Send.”

      This was moving far too fast. She could feel the threads of control slipping from her fingers. If she married Warren, he could easily change his mind about the no-intimacy clause. They’d be legally married and she hadn’t a clue what kind of recourse she might have if he decided they would consummate the marriage whether she liked it or not.

      If he knew she wore racy lingerie beneath her staid suits, would he change his mind?

      She shook off those thoughts. Warren wasn’t offering this solution so he could take advantage of her. They’d worked together late into the night many times, long after the last of his employees had gone home. He’d never been anything but the soul of propriety, which was why she loved this job. He listened to her, valued her opinion. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have gone to these lengths to keep her on the project.

      That alone went a long way. Her knees might be weak at the thought of putting herself at his mercy. But she was also continuing in a positive environment that was good for her battered psyche.

      There wasn’t really a choice. She could never accept her employer’s mistake and take the offered job in Melbourne. She’d have to agree to become Warren’s bride by contract.

      The thought unleashed a shiver she couldn’t control. They’d be living together. Wouldn’t they? How could they convince the authorities they were married unless she moved into his house? But that would make it so much harder to keep her normally vivacious personality under wraps, lest she accidentally give Warren the impression she welcomed his advances.

      The complications rose up in her throat like a big black rock, cutting off her air.

      “Tell me what you’re thinking, Tilda.” Warren’s quiet voice cut through her angst easily. “Do you want to keep this job or go back to Australia? If it’s the former, let’s work through this from the top and mitigate all of the potential landmines.”

      As frequently as they’d been on the same wavelength over the course of this project, it shouldn’t be such a shock that he’d picked up on her reservations. Could he see the panic, too? Surely not.

      She’d tried hard to hide what was really going on beneath the surface for the entire length of their acquaintance, adopting the granite-hard professionalism that she’d been convinced no one could crack.

      Warren Garinger managed to crack it without breaking a sweat. Likely without even realizing it. This was her opportunity to retake control.

      “All right.” Deep breath. “I want to keep this job.”

      That meant she had to take the issue of her visa seriously and consider his offer. Marriage. It was a dizzying proposition, rife with pitfalls, both legal and personal.

      But still viable, nonetheless.

      “Good. I want you to keep it. What else concerns you about this plan?”

      Oh, God, everything about this plan concerned her. One hurdle at a time. “No issues with your wife working for you?”

      “None. This is a family company through and through. Thomas’s wife is head of accounting and all of the shareholders are named Garinger.” Warren flashed her another brief smile. “If you like, I would be happy to give you a block of shares as a wedding present.”

      She swallowed as the black rock grew in her throat. The gesture had probably been an act of good faith, but no one had ever offered to make her a part of a family with such decisiveness. It felt...nice. She got to belong for no other reason than because Warren said so. She nodded, since speaking wasn’t possible.

      “What else?” he prodded gently. “I have a master suite at my house that connects 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.

       Two

      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

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