by Noelle Adams
I’m not sure how these words are coming out of my mouth. I never talk like this to strangers. I barely talk this way to my best friends or my therapist.
Damian seems to be listening. And thinking about what I say. “All right. That makes sense. It’s a pretty big investment though. Don’t you have a friend who could pretend to be your husband for a while?”
I shake my head. “Most of my friends are online. And the ones I do have aren’t men. Except for Steve. My business partner. And asking him to do something like that would be way too awkward. I’d much rather it be a stranger, so things don’t get messy.”
“Messy?”
“You know. Awkward. Uncomfortable. Emotionally tangled. I’m not into that kind of thing.”
He gives a soft huff. I’m not sure what it means. “Okay. Got it. No messy emotions.”
I feel another flush for no good reason. “I’m not saying anything is wrong with it. You can have messy emotions if you want. I just don’t see any reason for this to get messy. That’s why I wanted to just hire someone.”
“I understand. So do you just want me to spend the weekends with you? I’d understood it was a full-time commitment for six months.”
My face twists as I go back to a question I’ve been stewing over for days now. “Yeah, I don’t know. The only thing I really need is the weekends, but I’m worried that if we’re supposed to be married, it better look like we’re married here in Atlanta too. Just in case Pop or his family comes into town or they know someone here who might question the arrangement.”
Damian doesn’t appear surprised or uncomfortable about this idea. “That’s what I figured. I’m not opposed to living with you for the job, as long as I have my own room and bathroom, and I have enough free time to get my own work done.”
“Oh you’d have plenty of time. Monday through Friday, you wouldn’t have to do anything for me. And you’d have plenty of privacy. I’ve got a guest suite in my place that never gets used. If it suits you, you could have it. That way no one would question why we’re supposed to be married but not living together.” I’m relieved that he’s acting so nonchalant about the whole thing. Maybe he’s had other jobs even stranger than this one.
“All right. I’d have absolutely no problems with that.”
I look at him for a moment, once again feeling that wave of attraction that rocks me to my bones.
“Is something wrong?” he asks, his eyebrows drawing together.
“No. No.” There’s no way in hell I’m going to tell him that I’m currently fighting the impulse to reach over and tear off his clothes. “It’s all good. So you think you want to do this?”
“You’re still willing to pay the price Aurora quoted?”
“Yes. Of course.”
“Then I’m in.”
“Okay. Good.”
“Good.” His eyes are almost unreal. A vivid turquoise color that’s quite unnerving.
I glance away from him, up toward the counter. “Now that we got that taken care of, I might go get some coffee.”
“Oh, I’ll get it for you.” He stands up. “I should have asked you before. What would you like?”
“Just black. Dark roast. But I can—” Before I can finish my sentence, he’s already heading up toward the counter.
I watch him walk away—the way his jeans mold the tight curve of his ass—and then I force myself to turn back around.
It’s fine. It’s all fine. Damian seems professional and relatively low maintenance. More intelligent than I was expecting from him. Yes, he’s too hot for my comfort, but I can deal with that. I’ll probably get used to it fairly quickly. I’ve got a perfectly healthy sex drive, but I’ve never been unduly bothered by random impulses in the past.
My current state of mind is probably because I’m not used to being this close to a man so good-looking.
Otherwise, Damian exactly suits my needs. This is going to work out fine.
He returns a few minutes later with my coffee. As he slides into his chair, he smiles at me.
Damn it. Every nerve in my body zaps into life again.
“What’s the matter?” he asks with a frown, evidently seeing something in my expression.
“Nothing. Really. Just do you have to be so good-looking?”
He blinks. “Uh...”
“I know. It’s not your fault. And you can’t do anything about how you look. It’s just kind of distracting.”
His eyes narrow, scanning my face, but his mouth twitches up slightly. “And you don’t like being distracted that way?”
“No. I usually don’t have any problems with that kind of thing.” I’m scowling now, since it really is quite annoying that I’m finding him so obnoxiously sexy. “Can’t you like put on some glasses or something to dampen the hotness a little?”
He gives another soft huff. This one shakes his shoulders slightly. “In my experience, glasses don’t do anything to keep someone from being hot.”
“I guess. But maybe it’s worth a try.”
He’s trying not to smile. I can see it on his face. He quietly reaches down to his computer bag and pulls out a small case. He takes glasses out of it and puts them on.
I stare at him for a minute. Now he looks handsome and sexy and incredibly smart. I slump and mutter, “Damn it. That didn’t help at all.”
YOU CAN FIND OUT MORE about Purchased Husband here.
About Noelle Adams
NOELLE HANDWROTE HER first romance novel in a spiral-bound notebook when she was twelve, and she hasn’t stopped writing since. She has lived in eight different states and currently resides in Virginia, where she writes full time, reads any book she can get her hands on, and offers tribute to a very spoiled cocker spaniel.
She loves travel, art, history, and ice cream. After spending far too many years of her life in graduate school, she has decided to reorient her priorities and focus on writing contemporary romances. For more information, please check out her website: noelle-adams.com.
