by Teri Wilson
He studied her, and her cheeks burned with heat. She started sweating beneath the fur of her reindeer costume.
“Change your mind about what, exactly?” he said.
He truly didn’t get it, did he?
“Prancer.” She waved a hand at the dog, now attempting to break free from the pet carrier and crawl toward Anders across the paper-strewn desk. “The puppy. I want Lolly to have her.”
His gaze softened, and for a brief, silvery moment, she caught a glimpse of sadness in the cool blue depths of his eyes, an emotion so profound, so hopeless, that her breath caught in her throat.
Then, as quickly as it had appeared, that heartbreaking flash of vulnerability was gone, and his chiseled face was once again a perfect, impenetrable mask.
“You named the puppy Prancer,” he said flatly. “Why does that not surprise me a bit?”
She sat down in one of the stuffy chairs opposite him. Not that he’d offered. “I did, but Lolly can rename her if she likes.”
Her throat grew thick, and she pasted on a smile. Giving up the puppy wasn’t going to be easy. She’d grown attached to the little ball of fur, especially since she’d helped bottle-feed Prancer when she was still at the shelter, too young to be adopted out.
But she’d be damned if Anders Kent would know how much she’d miss the precious little dog.
He shook his head, and his voice dropped an octave until it was low and deep enough to scrape her insides. “That won’t be necessary.”
“If she wants to keep the name, that’s fine, too...”
“No.” He shook his head again, and shockingly, his mouth curved into a smile. It was a Christmas miracle! “I mean I want you to keep the dog. I’ve found another puppy for Lolly. In fact, I’m stopping by the shelter this evening to pick her up.”
“Oh, I see. Well, that’s...” She swallowed. “...wonderful.”
It was wonderful. It was the best possible news, given the circumstances. But for some strange reason, it struck Chloe as bittersweet.
“I appreciate the offer, though,” Anders said. And then he looked at her again—really looked—until she forgot all about her silly reindeer costume and her derby hat with its velvet antlers and felt as if she was bared before him. An unwrapped gift.
She took a shaky inhalation and dropped her gaze.
That was when she saw it.
Premarital Agreement.
She stared at the words on the document sitting on Anders’s desk until they swam together, forming a dark, inky pool. “What’s this?”
None of your business, that’s what.
Anders cleared his throat. “It’s nothing.”
Chloe stared at him until he looked away, and then she thought about the lovely woman who’d been standing beside his desk when she’d arrived. She thought about how natural the two of them had looked together, how perfectly matched they’d seemed. Like two blue-blooded peas in a pod.
“You’re getting married?” she sputtered. The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, and to her horror, they were laced with hurt.
She had no right to be upset. Still, what did the man do? Propose to every woman he met?
“No.” Anders shook his head, then grimaced. “I mean, yes.”
After a pause, he added, “I think.”
Chloe lifted a brow. “How can you not know?”
“It’s complicated.” He reached for the sheaf of papers on the desk in front of her, but not before Chloe saw the names printed in the first paragraph.
This agreement is made by and between Anders Kent and Penelope Reed...
Below that, she saw a substantial dollar amount, which didn’t quite make sense. He wanted to pay someone to marry him?
Chloe knew better than to ask any more questions. None of this was her business. But she couldn’t seem to stop herself.
“Penelope Reed.” She turned the name over in her mind. It sounded very sophisticated, very posh—the perfect sort of name for a bride someone like Anders would choose, as opposed to a person he’d only temporarily propose to. “Let me guess—that’s the woman who was just in here, wasn’t it.”
He shoved the contract in one of the desk drawers and slammed it closed. “I’m not marrying Penelope Reed.”
“But it was her, wasn’t it?” Why did she care? More important, why was she still sitting here? She had less than an hour to get to Times Square, and the subway would be packed this time of day.
Anders sighed. “Yes, it was.”
“And she turned you down?”
He glared at her.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
“Look, Miss Wilde. I appreciate your offer regarding the dog. It was very thoughtful, but I have a lot on my plate right now...”
“Like finding a wife?” She couldn’t resist. Something strange was going on, and she had to know what it was. And when she really thought about it, it sort of was her business, since for a split second, she’d been on his list of potential brides. “Why do you want to get married so badly, anyway? And why on earth would you offer someone money to be your wife?”
He narrowed his gaze at her. “Do you always ask so many questions?”
“Do you always propose to every woman who crosses your path?” she countered.
He crossed his arms, and she caught a glimpse of the crisp French cuffs of his shirt, his understated platinum cuff links and just a sliver of his manly wrists. Her heart beat hard, and she looked away.
Who in their right mind got swoony over a man’s wrist?
“If I tell you, will you and Prancer dash on out of here so I can get some work done?” He shot an amused glance at her antlers.
She shrugged one shoulder. “Maybe.”
Definitely. If she didn’t leave in exactly ten minutes, she’d be late for work.
Again, what was she still doing, sitting there in his office?
“I can’t be appointed as Lolly’s permanent guardian unless I’m married. I’ve got until Christmas to find a wife.” He lifted a brow. “Happy now? Any more questions?”
So this was about Lolly.
Chloe’s indignation melted away, replaced by a feeling much more complex, much more bittersweet. She couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was, but it made her heart beat hard in her chest. And it made her think that maybe, just maybe, she could help Anders and his sweet little niece.
Plus, that dollar amount on the contract would go a long way toward improving the dance school.
“Just one.” This is crazy. She swallowed. Don’t do it. Just get up and leave. Walk away while you still can. But she knew she wouldn’t—couldn’t if she’d tried. “Why not me?”
Chapter Six
He didn’t have a choice.
At least that was what Anders told himself when he agreed to marry Chloe Wilde. It was also what he told himself when she’d left Prancer in his care so she could go to work in her reindeer costume, which made for an interesting afternoon at the office. The havoc wrought by the Yorkie as Anders made conference calls and met with clients was astounding, especially given the dog’s tiny size.
He’d had to call the animal shelter and cancel yet another pending puppy adoption, which meant he’d probably be blackballed from getting another pet for the rest of his life. But adding a wife and a dog to his household right after it had doubled in size seemed like more than enough to deal with at the moment.
On some level, he was aware that he could have said no. No to babysitting Chloe’s dog. No to at least some of the chaos, but for reasons he didn’t care to examine too closely, he hadn’t. It was easier to keep believing that all the recent upheaval in his life was out of his control. Lolly needed him, therefore he needed Chloe. Again, he didn’t have a choice.
But applying for a marriage license the following morning felt like o
ne, especially when Chloe turned up to meet him on the front steps of the city clerk’s office on Worth Street wearing a winter-white swing coat over a pretty pleated dress, and a flower tucked into her upswept hair. It occurred to him as he climbed the building’s sweeping marble steps and made his way toward her that he’d never seen her in anything but her reindeer costume or dance clothes. And now here she was, looking as lovely as ever.
Like a bride.
His bride.
“Hi.” She gave him an uncharacteristically bashful smile, and he was suddenly acutely aware of the sound of his own heartbeat, pounding relentlessly in his ears.
“Hi. You look...” He paused when he realized his hands were shaking, and tucked them into the pockets of his overcoat. “...beautiful.”
“Thank you.” Her cheeks flared pink. “I know we’re not actually getting married today, only getting the license, but I figured I should probably look the part. Just a little, so it seems real. You know?”
Mission accomplished. Once they had the license and waited the mandatory twenty-four hours, they’d be husband and wife. It didn’t get much more real than that.
“Look, I know we didn’t discuss this, but I think it would be best if we kept things between us strictly platonic from here on out,” she said, without meeting his gaze. “Don’t you agree?”
“Absolutely.” Inside his coat pockets, his hands balled into fists.
“So, no sex.” At last she looked him in the eyes.
He held her gaze until the flush in her cheeks turned berry red. “I know what platonic means.”
“Right.” She swallowed, and he traced the movement up and down the slender column of her throat. “Just so we’re clear.”
“Crystal.” It was a perfectly reasonable request, and if she hadn’t brought it up, he definitely would have. The surest way to screw everything up would be to sleep together. But having it spelled out for him so succinctly was more unpleasant than he wanted to admit.
“I mean, not that we would have. You probably don’t even want to.”
“I don’t,” he lied.
“Perfect.” She nodded. Snow flurries had begun to gather in her hair, and paired with the white blooms in her loosely gathered ballerina bun, it made her look like something out of a fairy tale. A Snow Queen. “Neither do I.”
He wondered if she was lying, too, but then reminded himself it didn’t matter because they wouldn’t be going there under any circumstances. “It’s settled, then. No sex.”
“Good.” Her gaze dropped to his mouth.
Yep, she’s lying, too. He couldn’t help but smile, despite the absurdity of the situation. “Good.”
He nodded toward the building’s revolving gilt door, where a bride and groom spun their way outside and stopped for a passionate kiss in the gently falling snow. “Shall we go in?”
Her gaze snagged on the couple. Then her lush lips parted, ever so softly. And damned if Anders didn’t go hard.
What was happening?
She was gorgeous, but he’d known that all along. He’d been attracted to her since that first day at the animal shelter. If his life hadn’t been such a spectacular mess at the moment, he would have no doubt acted on it by now.
But his life was a mess, and Chloe was the only person willing to help him straighten it out. Now wasn’t the time for his libido to make an appearance after days of moving through life in a state of constant numbness.
“Yes, let’s go.” She brushed past him, and he inhaled a lungful of cold, cleansing air.
She’d mentioned sex, so now he was thinking about it. Plain and simple. His visceral reaction to her meant nothing whatsoever.
Sure it doesn’t.
“Anders? Are you coming?” She glanced over her shoulder, and her pleated skirt swirled around her willowy legs.
His arousal showed zero signs of ebbing. If anything, he grew harder. But he managed to put one foot in front of the other and follow her inside.
The foyer split into two different directions—weddings to the left, licenses to the right. Anders placed his hand on the small of Chloe’s back and guided her to the proper line.
It was an innocent gesture, just the barest of touches, but it filled him with inexplicable heat. Every nerve ending in his body seemed to gather at the small point of contact between the tips of his fingers and the delicate arch of her spine.
He snatched his hand away and buried it back in his coat pocket as they took their place behind dozens of happily engaged couples.
This is a terrible idea. The worst.
He should have stuck with his original plan and found someone to marry who was safe. Someone who he wasn’t attracted to in the slightest, and more important, someone who wasn’t already part of Lolly’s life. How would it be possible for them to make a clean break when all this was over?
One thing at a time, he reminded himself. All the logistics were spelled out in the premarital agreement. The contract was absolutely crucial. It would protect them both...if only he’d remembered it.
He closed his eyes and sighed. How could he have forgotten something so important? “Damn it.”
“Anders.” Chloe’s hand landed lightly on his forearm. “Everything okay?”
No. Everything was not okay. They were standing in line for a marriage license, and he didn’t even know her middle name. “I forgot the contract.”
She blinked. “What contract?”
“The premarital agreement,” he muttered under his breath. How many other couples in this queue were having a similar discussion? Zero, probably.
“Oh, I thought that was just something between you and...” Her voice drifted off.
“Penelope,” he said.
“Right.” Chloe stiffened. “Her.”
He lifted a brow. Was she jealous? Surely not.
“What?” She lifted her chin, eyes glittering.
“Nothing. You just seem...” He bit back a smile. Anders knew a jealous woman when he saw one, but he didn’t want to embarrass her. Nor did he want to get into another discussion even remotely related to sexual attraction. “Never mind.”
Her gaze narrowed. “Okay, but what were you saying? About the agreement?”
The contract. He’d forgotten about it again. “I meant to redraft it and bring it along today so we could sign it. I thought it would be best to have a notary here at the city clerk’s office serve as our witness instead of one from my office.”
“Because you don’t want anyone from your office to know we’re getting married?”
“I don’t see why it’s necessary. Isn’t the plan to get married on paper with as little disturbance to our daily lives as possible?” Why did saying this out loud make him feel like the world’s biggest cad? “I think that’s what’s best for Lolly.”
“You’re probably right.” Chloe nodded.
Their gazes met and held, until he finally took a deep breath and looked away. “All of this is spelled out in the contract.”
“You mean the one you forgot to write?” she said wryly.
“Yes.”
The line moved forward again, until only one couple stood between them and the little slip of paper that would give them legal permission to marry.
Chloe turned to face him, and for a split second, he wondered what waiting in this queue would have felt like if they’d been a real couple. Would they have held hands during the long wait? Would they have whispered promises to one another and made plans for their future? Would he have cupped her face and kissed her when they finally reached the point where they stood now, on the brink of swearing in front of a government official that they’d chosen one another, that they would soon exchange vows?
He would. He could imagine it, clear as day in his mind’s eye—her heart-shaped face, tipped upward toward his, the softening in her gaze as he lowered his m
outh to hers, her slight intake of breath before their lips met. He could picture it so vividly that it almost seemed like a memory instead of some alternate version of reality. A fantasy that would never come true.
“It’s fine. Don’t worry about the agreement. I’m doing you a favor, and in return, you’ll do one for me. The dance school can use that money.” She smiled. “I trust you.”
He gazed down at her and wondered if she had any inkling what those words meant to him. His own brother hadn’t trusted him enough to grant him unconditional guardianship over Lolly, but Chloe was willing to walk down the aisle toward him without any sort of paperwork to protect her.
Anders was a stranger, and she was prepared to marry him. She could call it a favor if she liked, but they both knew it was more than that. So much more.
I trust you.
He reached for her hand and wove his fingers through hers. Somewhere deep inside him a dam was breaking, and he couldn’t tell whether it was a good thing or a bad one, but didn’t want to face it alone.
“Anders Astor Kent and Chloe Grace Wilde?” The clerk behind the counter looked up.
Chloe squeezed his hand as they stepped forward, and Anders realized he’d just learned something new, something serendipitous.
Grace.
His bride’s middle name was Grace.
* * *
“How do you feel about Lolly Kent for the part of Clara?” Chloe slid the Tchaikovsky album back into its sleeve after Baby Nutcracker rehearsal the next day and did her best to sound nonchalant.
All the time she’d spent onstage must have made an actress out of her, because Allegra seemed oblivious.
“Sure.” Allegra peeled her ballet shoes off and slid her feet into a pair of Uggs. “You’re the director, remember. Emily put you in charge, and I’m just helping out. The casting is up to you.”
Clara was the lead role, and while she wasn’t technically a princess, whoever danced the part would be the star of the show. She’d also get to wear a tiara for most of the recital, which should satisfy Lolly’s princess obsession.
“She’s one of the oldest girls in the group, so I’m sure she could handle the simple choreography,” Chloe said.
