by Weiss, Sonya
Never see her again? Hell, no. He couldn’t even consider that possibility. Yet he wasn’t as worried about her lack of marriage skills as much as he was his lack of love skills.
If she saw just what a relationship liability he was, she may never want to see him again.
He wouldn’t risk it. He would be good old predictable buddy Chad until the marriage ended, then he and Amelia could carry on as they always had.
No matter what, he and Amelia were remaining just friends.
Chapter Eight
On the fifteen-minute drive from her home to his, they passed by the familiar landmarks. The Dairy Queen where she’d hung with her friends after a high school football game. The gas station where she and Chad had had their first argument because she’d gone on a date with a boy Chad thought wasn’t good enough for her. He’d been right about that one.
While they had a lot of history, it was the present she was worried about. She knew Chad well enough to know that he was pulling away from her.
He turned off Main Street onto the road that took them into the housing area dubbed Millionaire Manor by the locals. The homes butted against a golf course surrounded by a huge lake where ducks called to one another throughout the day.
The car pulled into a driveway and passed through a normally closed black iron gate attached to a pair of beige stone columns. Chad maneuvered the car up the slight incline and around the curved driveway past the gurgling stone fountain. Landscape lights on either side of the brick driveway along with the full moon gave plenty of light against the darkness of the night.
Amelia rolled down her window to breathe in the natural perfume from the many flower gardens scenting the air.
When Chad cut the engine, his grip tightened for a second on the steering wheel. Amelia raised a questioning eyebrow and he opened his door. She rolled up the window, unsure of why she felt so jittery.
“I’ll take care of your bags,” Chad said as Amelia stepped from the car.
The slight breeze blew the end of her ponytail in her face and she smoothed it back, drinking in the sight of Chad’s home.
The estate had always been lovely and elegant, but Amelia secretly thought it lacked warmth—as if everything in the home was placed and arranged simply for show rather than enjoyment. Like an imposing stone giant, it sat on a beautifully manicured lawn with a disapproving air. Even when his father had been alive, the home carried the same doom-and-gloom air.
Though his father had ignored the both of them, the staff had more than made up for that lack of supervision, especially when she and Chad were children.
She’d always felt as though the staff followed them around with cleaning rags and a vacuum cleaner ready to take care of any crumbs they spilled. Once, she’d talked Chad into sliding down the stairs on a mattress they’d dragged from a twin guest bed. They’d ended up in a tangled heap of limbs before a scolding from Chad’s tutor cut short their mattress surfing.
The tutor had labeled her an out-of-control troublemaker and urged Chad’s father and grandfather to bar her from the estate. That was the first day she’d ever seen Chad furious, the first time she’d ever seen him face off with his father. In the end, it was the tutor who was sent packing.
She still wasn’t sure how Chad had won that round.
Tonight she climbed the wide concrete steps and waited for Chad at the front door. Never in a million years had she ever imagined one day returning to this home as Chad’s wife.
He came up behind her and set the luggage down on the porch beside two oversized flower urns. “I’m sure you don’t mind if we forgo the whole carrying-over-the-threshold bit that grooms usually do.”
“That’s not all that grooms do,” Amelia teased him with a wink. “They also watch numerous chick flicks without complaining and agree to go rock climbing.”
His expression was one of disbelief. “When have you ever been into rock climbing?”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, darling husband,” she teased as she sashayed into the foyer.
“Married a day and already I can tell we’re headed to couples counseling,” he laughed.
As soon as they stepped into the house, an older man in a black suit and striped tie hurried past a baby grand piano to greet them. “Welcome home.”
“Good evening, Smith,” Amelia said, remembering him from last time she’d visited Chad at his house a while back.
His sparse gray hair was slicked back and not a strand was out of place. “The press have already called with requests for interviews. Carolina Magazine called. They want an exclusive.”
“Carolina Magazine?” Amelia asked.
“The president of Walker Industries getting married is a big deal, Amelia.” Chad spoke matter-of-factly as he placed his car keys on a glass-topped table housing a large display of dried flowers.
“Oh,” Amelia said. She often forgot the powerful circles he moved in, especially since she’d never really considered Chad’s “most eligible bachelor” status before.
Well, he’s not eligible now, she thought smugly.
Stop it, Amelia. It’s not like he’s yours or anything. Even if he is your husband.
“Thank you, Smith,” he said. “It’s definitely been quite a day. Please show Amelia the room I had prepared for her and take her cases up.” He pressed a light kiss to Amelia’s cheek for the sake of their audience, then stepped back without smiling. “I have some work to do.”
Before she could protest, Chad quickly disappeared in the opposite direction, his footsteps echoing loudly on the marble flooring.
“If you’ll come with me, ma’am?”
Choking off the retort she wanted to call after Chad, she followed Smith up the winding stairs, her frustration mounting with each step she took to the second floor. He was blowing her off on their wedding day a second time for work. How did he think that looked for keeping up appearances? And did he honestly expect her to sit around alone all the time in this house while he worked nonstop for the next few months?
She slid a glance to the man stiffly climbing the stairs and wondered what he thought about her being ditched so quickly after their arrival. Even if he thought it was odd, he was so uptight and properly mannered that he’d never let it show.
The man stopped before a door and swung it open. He reached in to switch on the light. “Your room.”
Oh, God. He put her in the West Room.
Amelia could barely disguise her dismay. The bedroom was filled with oversize, dark wood furniture that dwarfed the space. Thick brown rugs covered the floor and long brown-and-beige drapes hid all the windows, not even allowing a sliver of outside light in. The walls were painted a dull coffee brown with nothing to break up the color or lighten the room.
Portraits of men dressed in eighteenth-century clothing dotted the walls and glared down at her. Amelia blinked. Depressing with a capital D.
When was the last time this space had been decorated? 1910?
“I think there’s been a misunderstanding.” She backed from the cheerless room, pulling the door closed with a firm hand, and gave the older man a smile. “I would like to go to Chad’s room.”
The man’s eyebrows winged upward toward his thinning gray hair. “I’m afraid that Mr. Walker gave explicit instructions concerning the sleeping arrangements.”
Amelia knew Chad hadn’t thought it through. The staff would gossip about the sleeping arrangements and it couldn’t be known that they were in separate rooms, not if he was going to be committed to selling this whole marriage thing to everyone they knew.
Taking a deep breath, she said, “I’m giving explicit instructions that I’m to be taken to Chad’s room. If you have any objections, you’ll have to take it up with him.” She folded her arms, hoping Smith wouldn’t call her bluff.
She knew she was playing with fire, staying in Chad’s room. Especially given her newfound, unwanted attraction to him. But she’d committed to this sham of a marriage and she was going to follow th
rough 100 percent. If Chad’s business fell apart, it wasn’t going to be because she hadn’t done her best.
“Very well. This way, please.” Spinning on his highly polished black shoes, he led the way down the hallway.
Amelia walked beside him. “I’ve met you before, you know. A year or two ago.” He didn’t respond. “So do I call you Smith or do you have a first name?”
They stopped in front of a familiar set of massive double doors. “It’s Larry.” He swung open the doors.
Amelia couldn’t hide her dismay. Chad’s room was worse than the one Larry had shown her. She didn’t remember it being so…well…horrible. At least when he was younger he had sports posters covering the walls, giving the space a lift. Now it was the same abysmal furniture as in the West Room. She hadn’t come up here last time she’d visited the house, so seeing the room now in all of its caveman glory was a shock. She shuddered.
Changes needed to be made.
Starting with their living arrangements.
If she was going to pose as Chad’s wife even for a short time, they needed a different place to live. She wasn’t someone who could adapt to having servants or to living in a home where a you-are-here map was needed in order not to get lost. With eyes on them 24-7, they’d have to be on 24-7. Certainly he’d be up for a temporary relocation?
When Larry cleared his throat, Amelia pulled herself from her thoughts and smiled at him. “Thank you, Larry.”
“If you require anything else, simply press the intercom.”
Amelia shook her head, her voice brooking no argument. “I don’t expect people to wait on me. If there’s something I need, I’m capable of getting it myself.”
“The estate has slightly over 11,000 square feet and it’s my job to care for the Walkers. You are now a Walker, correct?”
“I’m not used to being waited on.”
“You’ll get used to it. Your bags will be up shortly.”
Amelia closed the door behind him, kicked off her shoes, and surveyed the room. Crossing the dark wood floor, she checked out the stack of to-be-read books by the bed. Each one of them was business-related. A newspaper folded to an article about the stock market lay beside the books. Boring. Boring. Boring.
Marching over to the drapes, she searched until she found the button that operated them. Pressing it, they slid open to reveal a beautiful window surrounded by impressive Italian scrollwork.
Through the window, she could make out the vast flower gardens and the rows of neatly kept trees shading the driveway in the dimly lit night.
A knock sounded on the door and Amelia hurried to open it.
“Your cases.”
“Larry, please call me Amelia.”
He inclined his head but Amelia knew he wasn’t really agreeing. He wouldn’t break the tradition of ma’ams and sirs for those who lived in the house. “Is there anything else you require of me?”
“I think that about covers it,” Amelia said.
He inclined his head and Amelia closed the door behind him. For the first time, she truly realized the gravity of the situation she’d gotten herself into—and gotten a firsthand glimpse into what Chad’s life must be like. Even his home was hardwired for him to be uptight.
She wrapped her arms around herself, giving herself a mental pep talk. She could do this. She could do it for Chad’s sake.
He needed her.
…
Chad lifted his gaze from the paperwork he hadn’t been able to concentrate on. He’d read the same page three times. His ability to get lost in work had never failed him.
Until now.
Ever since his lips first touched Amelia’s lips during the storm, he hadn’t been able to think of her as his childhood buddy.
Her smile, her exuberant laughter, the way her eyes lit up, the way she found such delight in everything she did, all of the things that made Amelia who she was pecked at him like hungry birds demanding to be fed.
His thoughts drifted to the way Amelia looked when she said her vows, hopeful and determined. Beautiful, like a real bride. His bride.
Ah, hell.
If his concentration was this wrecked in less than a day, how the hell was he supposed to survive with her under the same roof a few doors from his bedroom? Friendship be damned, he was a man, not a monk.
He couldn’t think that way. He had to keep the friendship safe. He threw his pen down and leaned back in the leather desk chair.
“Amelia, what have we gotten ourselves into?” he muttered.
He needed to write out a plan on how to make this marriage as painless for him as possible. Opening a drawer, he pulled out a notebook.
He’d write a list of all the reasons why he shouldn’t get involved with Amelia and keep it handy to refer to when he was feeling tempted. Which meant he’d probably have to staple the damn thing to his zipper.
A knock sounded and he hastily closed the drawer. “Come in.”
Smith entered. “Mr. Walker, there seems to be a problem.”
Chad didn’t like that he felt disappointed it was Smith rather than Amelia in his office. “What sort of problem?” He frowned. Normally Smith went to his grandfather with household issues.
“It’s Mrs. Walker. I’ve taken her suitcases to the master suite upon her insistence. Will there be anything else?” Smith waited expectantly.
“No. Wait. That’s my room.” He’d personally picked out the room to put Amelia in so she wouldn’t be near his room. The last thing he needed at night was to be able to hear her moving around in his bed. Wearing whatever it was she normally slept in, which probably wasn’t much.
That was a visual he didn’t need to have in his head.
Smith wouldn’t look him in the eye and Chad’s suspicion jumped a few notches. “She did not say why she wanted the change, sir.”
Chad ground his teeth together so tightly his jaw ached. He pushed back the desk chair and stood. He shouldn’t have been surprised that Amelia was already messing with his orderly life.
“Will that be all?”
“Yes, I’ll have a word with Amelia letting her know she’s not to change staff orders without checking with me.”
Smith gave a quick dip of his head and exited.
As soon as he was alone, Chad closed the top of his laptop and strode around the desk. He had to set his so-called wife straight. This may be a marriage of convenience but he couldn’t have her turning the whole household upside down. Even if chaos was Amelia’s signature move.
Taking the stairs two at a time, he reached the door of his bedroom and stopped with his hand on the door handle. What on earth was that ear-splitting sound?
He shoved open the door to find Amelia dancing around in the middle of the room while a screechy ’80s rock song blared from the radio beside his bed.
Bad taste in music. He’d known she suffered from that. He could live with that.
However, he would not, could not, live with what she was wearing, not if he wanted to keep their relationship from setting them both on fire.
Amelia wore a pair of light-purple cotton shorts that barely covered the tops of her thighs and a dark-purple tank top. Her hair swung about and caressed her back with each move of her hips. The thin gold ankle bracelet shifted above her ankle, drawing Chad’s gaze to her neon-pink toenail polish.
Her outfit wasn’t traditionally sexy, per se. Very in line with her tomboy personality. Yet somehow she seemed almost indecent in it.
DEFCON level 3 sexy.
He. Was. In. Trouble.
She spun around, saw him, and danced to where he stood. “Dance with me,” she said, raising her voice to be heard above the music. She wiggled her fingers at him.
Major trouble.
“Amelia.” He bypassed her outstretched hands and strode to the radio to shut off the music. The silence was as loud as the song had been. “You told Smith that you were sleeping in here?”
“Did I?” She arched an eyebrow.
“Don’t give me t
hat innocent look. You changed the sleeping arrangements. I already told you, we don’t cross that line.”
“Chad…”
He didn’t let her finish. “No good comes from crossing the line. How many times do I have to repeat myself before you finally get it?”
“Chad, listen to me. You were right about me not staying with my sisters and I’m right about this.” She waved a hand indicating the room. “We can’t have separate rooms because the staff will talk and then the truth—the very truth that you seem hell-bent on keeping secret—will get out.”
Damn it. She was right. He hadn’t thought about that.
“Besides, it’s not the first time we’ve slept in the same bed. And it’s not like that mammoth bed isn’t big enough to accommodate the both of us without us even touching. I’ve heard of a California king-size bed before, but that’s like, a King Kong size.”
“We’re not kids anymore.”
“We slept in the same bed at the cabin and nothing happened,” she pointed out.
When was he going to learn that arguing a point with her was useless? He blew out a breath. “You’re right. You’ll have to stay here. I’ll sleep on the floor.” He ran his fingers across the back of his neck, trying to find release from the tension in his muscles, looking around the room at everything except his wife.
“Don’t be a ridiculous ass. You don’t have to sleep on the floor. I’m not going to pounce on you, husband,” she laughed. “I do have some self-control.”
He quirked his brow. “Did you just call me an ass?”
“No.” She smiled sweetly. “I called you a ridiculous ass. Big difference.”
He rolled his eyes. Didn’t she realize that her self-control wasn’t the one he questioned?
“You want the bathroom first?” he asked. He unbuttoned his shirt and pitched it toward a chair. It missed.
When he made no move to retrieve it, she said, “Don’t think picking up after you is going to be one of my wifely duties.”
“I don’t expect that.” He watched the way her eyes roamed his bare chest and caught how quickly she looked away. “What I expect, what I deserve as your husband”—he hid a smile when her eyes narrowed—“is for you not to snore like a damn train.”
