Marriage Made on Paper

by Maisey Yates

  “You don’t seem the type.”

  “I don’t?”

  “Do you surf? Swim?”

  She laughed. “No.”

  “That’s why you don’t seem the type.”

  “I used to dream about the ocean,” she said without thinking. “In Kansas we have seas of cornfields. No ocean. I thought if I could see the ocean … it was like the world would be open to me. Endless possibilities on the horizons.”

  As soon as she finished she wished she hadn’t said anything. She’d never told anyone that before, not even any of her friends. Her dreams had always been her own. She had a really nice group of friends, but they kept things casual, not really in depth. And that was how she liked things in general with people. Now she felt horribly exposed, and to Gage of all people, who always seemed like he could see into her, like he knew things about her even she didn’t know.

  “It’s a good dream,” he said. “And now you have it.”

  She nodded once. “Part of it.”

  “You want success.”

  “I want unsurpassed success in my field,” she said.

  “Something I understand.”

  “You have that kind of success, Gage.”

  He offered her a partial smile. “Yet, I still want more. It’s never quite enough, that’s the thing about ambition. But that’s what keeps me going, and in business, you have to keep going. Money doesn’t wait for you. If I wasn’t building this resort, someone else would be, and it would be my missed opportunity. As it is, it’s my payday and someone else’s regret.”

  “You don’t do regret, do you?” she asked.

  “I make sure I never need to.”

  They pulled onto a road that was newer than the main highway, the pavement dark and smooth as the road curved around the base of sheer rock face covered with vines and moss. The road led up the mountain and the foliage grew thicker and greener and palm trees and other topical plants grew thick along the roadside.

  It certainly hadn’t been overtaken by Forrestation Inc., as some of the environmental groups had feared. With the exception of the road, Lily could barely make out any signs of civilization.

  The partially built resort was at the top of the mountain, with a clear view of the crystalline ocean and the white sand beaches. Paths led from the main building and into the trees and, she assumed, to the separate teakwood villas.

  The limo came to a halt and Lily got out without waiting for Gage, or the driver, to open her door for her.

  “It has a view of the ocean,” Gage said, coming to stand beside her.

  She cleared her throat. “Yes, it does.” It bothered her now, that he had that little piece of her. Now he knew what to say, and he knew why this place was so perfect to her. He would know what she was thinking.

  She shrugged off the unsettling thought. “So, where am I staying?”

  “We are staying in the house I had built for my own personal use.”

  The thought of staying with him did not settle well. “Why are we staying together?”

  “The board is visiting. That means we have to look as cozy as possible.”

  “But it’s a whole house?”

  “Yes. More than three thousand square feet. You’ll never have to see me. Unless you want to, of course.”

  The look that he gave her was so heated it made her body temperature skyrocket. His meaning wasn’t implied so much as stated. Boldly, explicitly.

  “I don’t,” she said, tight-lipped, knowing how uptight she sounded.

  He lifted an eyebrow. “What if there’s a business matter we need to discuss?”

  “Then I’ll look for you.”

  “What did you think I meant, Lily?”

  She made a scoffing sound in the back of her throat. “You know perfectly well what … because it’s what you were implying.” He was flustering her. Honestly flustering her. That did not happen. Ever.

  He didn’t say anything. Didn’t even try to break the thick silence with a clever comment. He only looked at her, his blue eyes roaming over her body, making her feel like he was undressing her. Like she was already undressed. Like he could see everything. Every flaw, every imperfection, every bit of her.

  She looked away, throat dry. “Okay, so where’s the house?”

  “Just down the path.”

  He surprised her by opening the trunk of the limousine and taking their suitcases out himself before heading down the heavily wooded trail. She followed him, as best she could in her stilettos, which were not made for a natural path, however nicely constructed.

  She wobbled and pitched forward, catching herself on his broad shoulders, her breasts crushed against his back. He stopped, his body stiff and strong beneath her weight. Her heart thundered heavily, both from the near fall, and from being so close to him again.

  It was just like it had been when they were dancing. He was so solid, so hot and male. She wanted to melt into him. To chase after the riot of sensations that were moving through her body at lightning speed. To finally know what it meant to share sexual pleasure with someone else.

  She pushed away from him, wobbling again, but she managed to get her balance on her own. She took a sharp breath. Just the small distance between them afforded her more clarity of thought. But when she touched him … she forgot everything. Everything but her steadily growing desire for him. Well, not really for him personally, but for his body. Gage was the last man on earth—okay, not really the last man but he was low on the list—with whom she would choose to have a real relationship. But something about him physically, probably his undeniable sex appeal, got to her more than any other man ever had.

  It was raw and elemental, beyond common sense. And she really, really hated it.

  “Sorry,” she said, her voice breaking and, she knew, revealing just how much the encounter had affected her.

  “Be careful,” he said. His voice sounded thicker, huskier. That was when she knew. Knew that he was affected by her, too, that her touching him, pressing against him, was doing the same thing to him that it had done to her. And that did not make things better.

  She twisted the engagement ring on her finger and reminded herself exactly why she didn’t need a relationship, with Gage or anyone else. She didn’t want anyone to own her. Didn’t want anyone to control her and manipulate her with her own foolish emotions. She’d seen how it worked, what love did to you, what it asked of you. It wasn’t anything she wanted a part of.

  She followed him the rest of the way, more slowly and more carefully, until they reached the house. It was set up on stilts and made from solid dark teakwood with the traditional curves of Thai architecture, mixed with a modern sensibility. The large, covered outdoor living area that wrapped around the house made the most of the natural environment and the view. It appeared rustic in a sense, but she knew that inside it would have every modern convenience available, and even some that weren’t available. Not to mere mortals anyway.

  “I love it,” she said, meaning it.

  “I like it, too,” he said. “I designed it, actually.”

  “You did?”

  He shrugged. “That was how I got into property development. Architecture has always interested me. I like building resorts that are functional and beautiful, and blend in with the natural culture and landscape.”

  “You really have to start saying these things in public,” she said.

  Now she knew something about Gage, she realized. And he knew something about her. That caused strange tightening sensation in her chest.

  “Why? Then your job would be easy.”

  She rolled her eyes, ignoring the persistent roll of her stomach. “Can’t have that.” She walked up the exterior stairs of the house without waiting for him and went inside.

  It was gorgeous, the décor simple and traditional, a muted color palette that caused all attention to be drawn to the view outside, to the vivid colors of the beach that could never be rivaled by anything man-made.

  She moved through t
he open living room and into the kitchen, which was outfitted, as she’d predicted, with top-of-the-line equipment. Stainless steel appliances and granite countertops. The kitchen flowed seamlessly into the dining room, which went back around into the living room.

  “Where’s my room?” she asked, starting to feel desperate for a little bit of space. He was making her whole body feel restless and jittery and she needed a break.

  “Just through here,” he said and gestured to another open doorway just off of the living room.

  There was no door, just a cleverly angled wall that kept the bed from view. The bedroom was open to a massive bathroom that was, again, only private in part.

  “Are there no interior doors in this house?” she asked, feeling panic start to pick at her calm, fraying the edges a bit.

  “No. I thought it would compromise the integrity of the design.”

  “It compromises common decency. That’s what it does. That’s … that’s my concern,” she said, feeling her heart rate rise.

  “I promise I’ll keep to my quarters.”

  She hated that she couldn’t play like she was fine with it. Another thing she was revealing about herself, which was one reason she valued her privacy so much. How many other twenty-seven-year-old women had such a hang-up about sharing space? Especially with a man. Most women her age shared space with men frequently and happily.

  “I just … I live by myself for a reason.”

  “Really?” he asked, genuine interest in his voice.

  Crap. She was sharing again. “I like privacy.”

  “I understand that.”

  Gage fully understood the need for privacy. Having a child—his sister—live with him for eight years had severely limited his privacy, dictating who he could have over and when. What sort of activities he could indulge in. Of course, now that Maddy was on her own, he could have women over if he chose to, but he’d gotten so used to going to hotels when he wanted sex that he’d never really adapted back.

  And now that he had the privacy he wanted, the house felt empty sometimes. He still didn’t want to share it with any of his mistresses. He didn’t need women leaving toothbrushes on his sink. It was a level of commitment he had no desire to pursue. He had nothing to offer a woman beyond a little mutual fun in the bedroom, and he didn’t see the point in making her believe otherwise. That was why neutral locations reigned supreme in his book.

  Although, having Lily stay here with him didn’t bother him at all. But then, Lily wasn’t his mistress, and she also didn’t seem like she knew how to cling or simper, which made her seem like a much safer houseguest.

  “I live alone, too,” he added.

  “I like it,” she said.

  “So do I.”

  “I need a shower,” she said, abruptly. Then her pale cheeks turned a delicate raspberry.

  He couldn’t help but picture her naked in the shower, water sluicing over all that pale skin as it grew rosy from the heat. He felt an ache start to build in his groin. Maybe she wouldn’t be the most convenient houseguest. Not if he wanted to keep things professional between them. Although he was starting to wonder why it mattered. He was trying to be decent. It seemed a little bit on the shady side to hit on a woman whose paychecks you signed. But decency was starting to seem less important.

  Then she lowered her eyes, her blush intensifying, and he remembered why making a move on her was a bad idea. She wouldn’t just be another good time. She was more than that. If she were the kind of woman who would have said she needed a shower and, instead of blushing, had given him a sultry look and invited him to join, then he would have been more than willing to forget professionalism then and there.

  But she wasn’t that woman. Despite the air of confidence she gave off most of the time, all it took was a touch, or a small moment of sexual tension, and the confidence melted away. She either stiffened and moved away or she blushed like an innocent. He didn’t want to deal with any of that. He couldn’t. He had plenty to offer women in the way of gifts and physical pleasure. But he didn’t want marriage or love, he didn’t see the point.

  His career was too important, and he’d put it on the back burner for eight years. He wouldn’t do it again. Not for a wife or a child. It wouldn’t be fair to him, or them. A wife and child didn’t deserve to be second. He and Maddy hadn’t deserved to be second. But they had been. A very distant second. He refused to put a children through what his parents had subjected Maddy and him to. He wouldn’t make them wonder what they could do to earn some attention, to gain a small about of their parents’ interest.

  That meant marriage was not an option.

  “I’ll meet you for dinner,” he said, his voice rough with arousal.

  She nodded jerkily. “Okay. See you then.”

  He turned to leave the room, fighting the urge to turn and take her in his arms and kiss her, to find out if she would be stiff against his lips, or if she would be soft and pliant.

  He wanted her soft and pliant, more than he could remember wanting any woman in his life. It didn’t matter that his head knew she was the wrong woman to get involved with. His body wanted her.

  He tried to conjure up an image of Penny, his last mistress, the mistress he had parted ways with a very distant six months ago. He couldn’t. The only woman his body wanted was Lily.

  When Lily emerged an hour later she was back in her business attire, hair pinned back, makeup expertly applied. Her lipstick was a paler rose than her typical color, coordinating with her new manicure and her sky-high stilettos.

  Her endless supply of colorful high-heeled shoes never failed to fascinate him. Her work wardrobe was neutral, black and gray, with the occasional brown. But she wore a rainbow on her feet. He’d dated women that wore shoes like that, but mixed with garish jewelry and flashy dresses. Their entire look was so obvious that nothing stood out. Lily knew how to dress for impact. And with a figure like hers, everything short of a burlap sack had pretty major impact. Although, he imagined a burlap sack might even pack a punch with Lily’s curves to complement it.

  “I’m ready to eat,” she said.

  “Dinner will be up shortly.”

  She narrowed her brown eyes. “I thought we were meeting with the board.”

  “Tomorrow. They’ve only just flown in and will be eating in their quarters so that they can rest.”

  “Considerate of you,” she said, teeth gritted. “Although if I would have known we were eating in, I wouldn’t have dressed for a business dinner.” She was annoyed, but not necessarily about being out of the loop. Probably something to do with being alone with him.

  “I think you still would have.” He had a feeling that Lily would have added another layer if she would have known they would be eating alone together. It was clear that she wasn’t immune to him, that she felt the attraction, too. Also clear that she was equally determined to fight it.

  “Well, I guess technically if we eat together it’s a business dinner.”

  “This isn’t a business dinner,” he said.

  Her dark eyes were severe, her mouth pressed into a line. “If we were at a restaurant, I promise you I would save the receipt and write it off.”

  His body stirred, responding to the blatant challenge she was laying down. She wanted him, and she was determined to fight against it. He ached to release her hair from its tight confines again, to feel her lush, generous curves beneath his hands, to undo all of those little buttons, to undo her completely.

  It was the wrong thing to want. But the temptation she represented was one he was finding harder and harder to resist. He didn’t even want to resist it anymore.

  “Sit down, Lily.”

  She shot him a deadly glare but settled down on the low couch. He went into the kitchen and rummaged until he found two wineglasses and a bottle of Pinot Gris.

  She took the glass, without comment, and allowed him to pour her a generous portion. A few moments later a woman from housekeeping knocked and came in with trays, setting th
em on the coffee table before exiting quietly.

  There was a wide variety of fish, rice and noodle dishes and for a while they ate in silence. Another shock, since it was a rare thing for Lily to be silent. She always had a smart remark for every situation, and she never spared anyone her lightning-fast wit. It was one of the things he enjoyed about her.

  But despite the fact that she usually filled the silence, he’d had very few real conversations with her. They kept it to work. Which was how he liked it. He’d been surprised when she’d shared about why she lived by the ocean, and felt put out when it became clear that she regretted sharing.

  And it shouldn’t have. It shouldn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter whether or not she lived by the ocean because she was a champion surfer, or if it was because she felt trapped in her home state. And yet, it had mattered.

  It was easy to look at Lily and see her as a two-dimensional person. Almost an accessory to his work life, something he took inventory of. Mobile phone, laptop, Lily. And he was certain she saw him the same way sometimes. Neither of them had ever gone out of their way to connect, to know each other. He didn’t see the point. When he was at work, he was at work. When he was with a woman, it was for a good time. Only Maddy and his close friends really knew much of anything about him. Even the press was ignorant of the fine details of his life. As he preferred it. If he had to live publicly he wanted to keep some aspects of his life to himself.

  Now there seemed to be a shift happening in his and Lily’s relationship.

  It’s because you want to see her naked.

  That was all it was. Sex clouded a man’s judgment, and while he generally thought of himself as being above that, given his amount of experience, Lily seemed to revert him back to his teenage years. Which was extremely exciting in some ways, and something part of him—the part that was below his belt, he imagined—wanted very much to explore. While another part of him, likely his brain, was telling him to ignore it.