The Marriage Agenda

by Sarah Ballance

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Toby looked in the direction of the kitchen, where Chloe and Knox’s mother were going through those boxes of samples.

  Knox followed his gaze. He had never seen so many shades of white and had no idea why each and every one required such scrutiny, but he was content to leave the women to their devices. He understood there was an innate difference between white and cream, but to that end, the shades either matched or they didn’t. Why they required further degrees of separation was beyond him, and how they could completely fill an entire kitchen table—to say nothing of several hours of planning time—was mind-bending. It occurred to him then it was a good thing they hadn’t taken the traditional wedding route. He’d heard horrible stories from his buddies on the nightmarish aspects of organizing such an event—enough to realize whoever had come up with that ridiculous term “bridezilla” hadn’t been so far off. At least when he spent his wedding nearly sexless, it wasn’t because he’d worn the wrong color socks to the ceremony, earning the ire of his life’s mate.

  At least.

  Toby hadn’t responded. Knox tried again. “What?”

  Toby looked back and forth between the kitchen and Knox a half dozen times before he managed to spit out actual words. “She seems nice, and she’s so damned hot she makes you look ugly, but you didn’t exactly marry up.”

  “Ah.” He got it. Chloe wasn’t a socialite. In Toby’s eyes, she probably wasn’t anyone at all. She didn’t come from a wealthy family, and marrying her didn’t qualify as a political alliance. Arranged marriages may have fallen out of favor, but business transactions were all the rage.

  Little did Toby know, there wasn’t a woman alive who could be any better. “Didn’t think it was possible for me to marry up,” Knox said.

  “Yeah, yeah. You’re a god.”

  Knox let the comment go. It was a lot easier than admitting what Chloe meant to him. “So, Jackson is batting zero. What’s he going to come up with next?”

  Toby shut his briefcase. “You’re in a better position to answer that than me. Anything you can see coming to bite you in the ass?”

  Knox leaned back in his chair and held out his hands. “Squeaky clean.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “Yeah, well, you’d be hard pressed to prove otherwise, and so would Jackson.”

  Toby gave a rare smile. “That’s what I like to hear. Are you free to handle any commitments I manage to procure on your behalf?”

  “Other than the reception Friday night, which I presume you will attend, I’m all yours. Keep on doing what you’re doing.”

  “Really? And your bride approves?”

  “Is that sarcasm? Because I’m pretty sure you and your poll were the brains behind the whole marriage thing.”

  “I just told you what the polls said. You took the plunge. And you’re welcome. But don’t be an ass. Women like being consulted.”

  Knox snorted. “How many years now have you been single? Also, I’m not paying extra for you to manage my marriage.”

  “Who’s single? Apparently I’m married to my job. And, I might add, your marriage is a subset of your campaign. You may not be paying extra, but you’re paying for it all the same.”

  “Yeah. For better or for worse.”

  Toby shook his head in classic fuck-me fashion. “I see what you did there, and that’s about as much of this as I can take. I have to go. I have a meeting in about ten minutes with the money guy.”

  Knox grinned. “I thought I was the money guy.”

  “Point taken. However, misappropriation of campaign funds will put Jackson in a happy place, which is why you hired the money guy. And I have to go talk to him now.”

  Knox stood and shook his buddy’s hand. “I owe you. Thanks for all your work.”

  “Just make sure my check clears, and I’ll call it even.”

  “Might want to ask the money guy about that,” Knox called. He shut the door after Toby and turned around, catching sight of Chloe’s office. Home and garden. He hid a smile. He got why she was upset, but the reassignment wouldn’t stop her from breaking her story.

  And it gave him the perfect opportunity to have a little fun…in the name of housewarming, of course.

  He checked to make sure Chloe was still occupied in the other room with his mom, then pulled out his cell phone.

  He was about to make a florist’s day.

  …

  Chloe’s office had been invaded. Houseplants—twelve of them—delivered first thing that morning. She’d been looking at them all day.

  You’re just freaking adorable, Knox.

  Problem was, she wasn’t sure if he was being nice or rubbing salt in the wound. Either way, she’d never met a houseplant she couldn’t kill, the implication of which didn’t bode well for the inhabitants of the jungle she’d briefly called her office. Which was now some kind of greenhouse.

  The jackass did it with a candlestick in the conservatory…

  Why did he do stuff like this? Because that’s who he is. She should have seen this coming. She almost wished he’d be a jerk. A real jerk—not the almost adorable kind who stole her pepperoni or mocked her with greenery. She needed him to be the kind of man who didn’t turn her on and inside out. She needed a man she didn’t have to convince herself not to love.

  She needed a fake husband who hadn’t spent the past few months not having sex with other women.

  No one since her. His admittance had thrown her more than she cared to acknowledge. He’d made it clear he wasn’t getting emotionally invested in their relationship, but he’d also told her he’d broken things off because he didn’t believe in love. Had his feelings for her—however he chose to label them—been the reason he hadn’t been with anyone else, or was it something else? Knox may not do relationships, but he didn’t have the same prejudice against sex, so it had to be something else. Her mind knew that, but the logic didn’t keep her heart from doing cartwheels in her chest.

  He hadn’t been with anyone since her. Did it matter why?

  No. Because the bottom line was he didn’t want to be with her—not in the way she needed. She told herself that a hundred times a day, but doing so didn’t stop the threads of emotional attachment from spindling mercilessly. She needed to get the rest of her stuff from her apartment, but the reality of moving from her old life to a new one sank in more with each step. Sure, she had gained opportunities for career advancement but at what cost?

  She could push, but Knox Hamilton was the kind of man who would push back. With her ability to resist him pegged a notch above zero, when he did, she’d probably fall naked and flat on her back.

  And now she couldn’t look away from her computer screen without seeing a dozen extra reminders of him. Because any other man would have sent a single bouquet, but Knox had made sure it was personal.

  She sighed and pushed back from her desk, looking up just as he appeared in the doorway. He’d been up before dawn, off to some charity thing a couple hours away. He’d slept shirtless in sweatpants that hung just low enough on his hips to reveal rock-hard abs and a slight trail of hair headed south, and it had been all she could do to ignore him. To that end, she’d actually pulled the sheet over him a time or two, but he’d managed to maneuver his way back to indecency before she fell asleep. Turning her back hadn’t seemed to help, and for that matter, neither had the sheet. She still saw him.

  She couldn’t forget him.

  Now he was back in a suit and tie. She relaxed a notch. If he stuck to formal wear—and she kept her attention somewhere between his shoulders and his belt—she’d be fine.

  “Good afternoon,” he said easily. As though he hadn’t turned her office into a botanical garden. Or hadn’t noticed her staring below his belt, calculating all the reasons she shouldn’t look there.

  She swallowed. “Isn’t it? A lovely day to water plants.”

  His mouth puckered. He was probably trying not to laugh. “They should be okay for a
little while. I thought you might like to immerse yourself in your work.”

  “How very gracious of you. You realize you just sent these poor houseplants to their deaths?”

  Now he did laugh. “Don’t sell yourself short. I’m sure at least one will make the week.”

  “And for the rest,” she said sweetly, “I know exactly what to do with the casualties.” She had to press her lips together to keep from smiling at the sudden furrow in his brow. Whatever he was thinking, it had him worried. Good.

  He cleared his throat. “I stopped by my mom’s on the way home and picked up the guest list for the reception. I thought you might want the chance to get to know a few of these folks before the big night. And by ‘get to know,’ I mean ‘start digging.’”

  “That would be perfect, but are you sure you want me investigating your friends?”

  He laughed. “Most of these guests, I barely know. As for my friends, I especially want you investigating them. If they’re not doing anything wrong, they have nothing to worry about. Besides, you’re not going to find anything by Googling them that’s not already out there. And for that matter, the more you know about them, the more they’ll like us both. I’ve found people are immensely flattered by personal knowledge. Here, come with me.”

  Knox stood and took her hand, then led her across the entry hall to the study. The space had wowed Chloe at first sight. Everything in it was massive, from the floor-to-ceiling, built-in shelves to the stone fireplace to the sweeping eight-foot windows complete with cozy seating. Thick area rugs decorated the gleaming wood floors. The room had a decidedly old-world feel, but with everything fresh and modern, the space did not seem to date the sleek, European-style mansion.

  He offered his desk chair.

  She sank into the butter-soft leather with a happy sigh.

  He grinned. “You like it?”

  “My chair at home had a missing wheel and was covered in cat hair.”

  His brow furrowed. “You don’t have a cat.”

  “Exactly. It was hand-me-down cat hair. The vacuum made a dent, and the lint brush put in a good show, but ultimately the cat won.”

  “I guess it’s a good thing it was replaced.”

  She offered half a shrug. “I kind of miss it. Things changed fast.”

  “I know.”

  She cleared her throat. “Why the tour?”

  “Oh. My files. They’re in the two bottom drawers on each side.” He tapped the nearest drawers and pointed to the others. “Use whatever you need. Nothing is classified in here…yet. That said, most of it you’ll find in public records. Business dealings and affiliations and such. Honestly, it’s a bit of a cheat-sheet thing for me, and I figured for you it’s a little easier than wading through the entire internet, though as per our agreement, anything of a personal nature that you find remains confidential.”

  Ah. A not-so-veiled reminder she could wind up on the wrong end of a lawsuit if she breathed Hamilton family secrets to outsiders. But there was a loophole. “Unless of course I can find the same information elsewhere.”

  He nodded. “And therein lies your advantage. It’s a lot easier to find something when you know exactly what you’re looking for.”

  “Yeah, well, there had to be something in it for me.”

  A predatory gleam sparked in his eyes. “Is that all you’re getting out of this deal?”

  He hadn’t a clue what she expected she’d get out of the deal. Guilt niggled. She opted to change the subject. “Well, considering orgasms are forbidden…”

  He leaned close. So close, she could see nothing more than the golden flecks in his honey-brown eyes. “Not forbidden. Any time you want one, you just say the word.”

  Chloe stared him down. “This may come as a complete shock to you, but when I’m not winning a certain bet, I can handle that perfectly fine without your help.”

  “Sounds like an event not to be missed.” He punctuated his soft words with an even softer kiss, leaving her acutely, painfully aware of why she had been avoiding him.

  She swallowed. “You do realize you don’t have to keep up the act in private, right?”

  “What act?” His surprise seemed genuine, which only muddled things more. How could he not realize what he was doing to her?

  “This whole touchy-feely thing.”

  “I told you it’s not an act.”

  “And I told you not to do anything you couldn’t take back.”

  “Dammit, Chloe.” Knox stood and crossed the room. He paused at the window with his back to her for a minute before he spoke. His words were soft. “For as long as I can remember, I’ve seen Rex treat my mom like she was an inconvenience. Everything nice he ever did for her was for show—if no one was watching, he turned it all off. Seeing my mother go through that…well, that affected me. How could it not?” He turned and looked at her. “Obviously I never planned to get married, but I did. We did. I don’t want you to think for a moment I don’t…appreciate you.”

  Appreciate. Well, that’s just great. It should have been. Hell, it would have to be. She stood. “I’ll give you credit for one thing.”

  “What?”

  “That woman you eventually fall in love with? You’re going to be amazing.” She paused, trying to force the emotion from her throat. It didn’t work. Ah, hell. She’d already lost her heart. What was a little dignity gone, too?

  She had to choke out the words, but she said them anyway. “I just hope she knows how lucky she is.”

  Chapter Twelve

  The damned house was too small. Thirteen rooms and not a single molecule of oxygen to be found.

  Knox had crowded them all out.

  Even when he wasn’t there, he filled every room. All Chloe had to do was glance in the direction of their bedroom to picture him emerging from the shower, water droplets clinging to his broad chest. The kitchen reminded her of how he leaned against the counter in the mornings, treacherously sexy with his sweat pants riding low on his hips. Even the way he came home in the evenings and immediately lost his tie, as if he was completely human under the requisite politician façade, made her feel all hot and mushy inside.

  She was spiraling hard and fast into forbidden territory, and the reality check she so desperately needed wouldn’t be found under his roof.

  Guilt nagged at her. He had promised her a story and given her access beyond her wildest dreams. Would he have done that if he had known his father was her target all along? Despite the fact she planned to follow to the letter her arrangement with Knox, she knew if she found something on Rex, it would be a betrayal of Knox’s trust.

  To that end, she almost laughed. A politician who trusted a reporter. It probably wouldn’t be his first mistake, but there remained a very real possibility it would be his last, at least insofar as his political aspirations went. Rex hadn’t fallen…yet. He’d stumbled, but he’d landed fat and happy on a ledge, with no idea of how far he had to go.

  Chloe knew. She just needed to prove it. She would prove it. But could she live with herself thereafter? She squared her shoulders and decided it didn’t matter—not if she was able to give back to her grandmother what Rex and Pactron planned to take away.

  The farm. Last Chloe checked, there had been air there. Lots of it. After the fight with Pactron, her grandmother had moved to a retirement home not far from her property, and though only a month had passed since Chloe had visited, with everything that had happened in her life since then, it felt like years. The town was far enough from the stink of DC for Chloe to take a deep breath.

  It was far enough from Knox.

  He wasn’t home, so she scrawled a quick note and left it on the counter. It would have to be good enough. Talking to Knox—even via text—would not be conducive to her search for oxygen.

  She had one foot in a sneaker before she realized she wore old jeans and a tee. Now that she was one of the almighty Hamiltons, she had an obligation not to look like a complete slob when she went out, but she wasn’t exactly he
aded to the White House. The rural one-horse town in which her grandmother lived was a good two hours outside the beltway, and Chloe had no intention of spending that two hours in heels and a dry-clean-only outfit.

  Jeans would be just fine.

  She grabbed her keys and was precisely ten feet into her escape when she ran into Knox. Literally. She bounced off that ridiculously hard chest and backpedaled to achieve a safe distance, but he had already grabbed her arm, steadying her, his grip depriving her of an escape.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Sure.” The word sounded as painted and fake as any she had ever uttered, but maybe he was busy and wouldn’t notice. Please let him be busy. The man had much bigger things to worry about than—

  “Where are you headed?”

  Chloe looked down at her jeans and paid a little too much attention to the rip in one knee. She’d seen a similar flaw on a new pair that sold for a few hundred bucks, but she’d gotten hers the old-fashioned way.

  “I’m going to visit my grandmother.”

  His eyes immediately clouded with concern. “Doesn’t she live near…? Is she okay?”

  Her field of vision narrowed slightly at the way he switched gears. Was he thinking of where they’d met…or of the site of the coal plant that had been approved under Rex’s watch? “She’s fine. I just need a bit of a reality check.”

  “You’re not changing your mind, are you?”

  He’d stopped short of reminding her she was contractually obligated not to.

  “No, I just want some air.”

  His brow lifted. “We have air here.”

  “Your air reeks of politics.”

  A corner of his mouth quirked. “I suppose it does.”

  “Now, if you’ll excuse me—“

  “I’ll come with you.”

  “What?”

  He yanked off his Lorenzo Cana tie and tossed it aside as if it hadn’t cost more than her monthly apartment rent. “It’s early, and I’m free the rest of the day. Do you mind?”

  Of course she minded. Two hours in the car with him to revisit the place where they’d fallen in love? Or where she had. Only you. Chloe pressed her lips together and stared at the man who didn’t want to love her. “Not at all,” she lied.