Part 6 (1/2)

When the dishes were cleared, Cole stood and filled his coffee mug from the freshly brewed pot. ”I want to get out of these clothes. Can you meet me in my den in a few minutes?

It's just past the stairs. I have some papers to go over with you.”

Tara tensed. ”Is everything all right?”

”More than all right. I just want to make sure everything is in order before I ask you to sign anything.”

Of course. The bargain.

She relaxed. ”Okay.”

But her nervousness returned as she waited for him. She wiped her sweating palms on her jeans and fiddled with her ponytail. The den was very much him. Wood paneling on the walls, thick carpeting, a heavy oak desk, with a credenza that held enough electronic equipment that Tara was sure they could have launched a NASA expedition. The desk chair, the couch and the large armchair were upholstered in the soft leather she knew he preferred. The only pieces of artwork in the room were a Russell painting she knew he'd paid the earth for at a charity auction and a copy of the Remington bronze statue, Broncobuster. He'd tried and failed to get his hands on the original.

When Cole came in wearing sweat pants and a University of Texas T-s.h.i.+rt, her eyes widened. Oh, lord. How was she supposed to remain neutral, keep her mind on the reason she was there, when he dressed this way. She couldn't help noticing the way the soft material clung to his narrow hips and emphasized the leanness of his body. Or the outline of a semi-erect c.o.c.k pus.h.i.+ng against the fabric. Dark, curling hair just peeked over the neck of the s.h.i.+rt, the same masculine hair that dusted his corded arms and the backs of his strong-looking hands. His hair, wet from what was obviously a quick shower, looked even darker than usual and curled slightly at the nape of his neck. Delicious.

Get yourself under control before you make a mess of everything!

She swallowed, hard. This was not good.

”Sorry,” he said stiffly, noticing her reaction. ”I guess I dressed down a little too much. This is just what I'm used to throwing on when I get home.”

”No, no, that's fine. This is your house. You should wear whatever you want. I'm...just not used to seeing you so...casual.”

For a moment, his eyes darkened even more. ”Same here.” Then he sat down at his desk, indicating Tara should take the armchair and handed her a folder and an envelope in front of him.

In the next few minutes, she was alternately stunned and amazed. The amount of money stated in the agreement was completely absurd. More than she could need, even with the financial demands of her father's illness. She knew exactly how much money Alamo Construction took in and that Cole could well afford this, but it still bothered her.

Her eyes widened when she opened the envelope to find a thick wad of cash with a rubber band around it and bank signature cards.

”This is ridiculous,” she said, when she could find her voice again. ”I can't possibly sign this.”

”Too little?” he asked, frowning.

”Too much,” she insisted.

He picked up a pen from the desk and rolled it in his fingers. ”You've agreed to turn your life upside down and enter into this crazy agreement with me. There isn't enough money to express my grat.i.tude. And you can't know at this point what financial a.s.sistance your parents will need. So please don't argue with me about the one thing I can provide in this arrangement, okay?”

Her pulse jumping at the enormity of what he was offering her, she finished the short doc.u.ment, reached for a pen and signed it.

”The signature cards, too,” he prompted. ”I opened an account, but it will have your new, that is, your married name. The cash is to tide you over until then.”

”It could probably tide me over until next year!”

”Please, Tara, just allow me this,” he pleaded.

”I guess this will work out okay,” she told him. ”I need to shop for Molly, anyway.”

He frowned. ”I also thought you might want to buy something new for the wedding.” But he sounded as if the words were dredged up from six feet under.

She didn't know what to say so she just nodded.

”Well, then.”

Silence dropped like a cement wall.

”I spoke to my mother today. Needless to say, this was a shock to her. I thought I'd take Molly by in the morning and see if I can talk my mother into going to the mall with us.”

”Whatever you think best.”

Whatever I think best? Don't you ever think about this?

”I grocery shopped today, but I really don't know the kinds of things you eat. If you'll give me a list I'll make sure we have them.”

”I'm not fussy. Anything is fine.”

”Fine.”

Something simmered between them that neither of them wanted to acknowledge.

Cole cleared his throat. ”I'm sure you must be exhausted and ready for bed.”

”Yes. I guess I am.” She rose on legs not quite steady and pushed back her chair.

When he handed her the folder with her copies of everything, their hands brushed, and she almost jumped at the spark that pa.s.sed between them. She saw him pull his hand back and realized he'd felt it, too.

They stared at each other, the look a mixture of surprise, bewilderment and panic.

Oh, this is so not good. This stupid agreement isn't twenty-four hours old and already I can feel trouble.

”G-Goodnight,” she stammered, backing out of the room. She literally ran for the stairs and up to her room, dropping onto her bed and throwing her arm over her eyes. Her heart raced and her whole body felt flushed. Pulses she didn't even know she had throbbed as if they were some animated neon sign.

Was this what happened when you didn't have s.e.x for years? Hadn't even wanted it?

She'd better get control of herself, or her business arrangement would turn into a disaster. The fact that Cole had reacted, too, only made things worse. How had she gotten herself into this?

Forcing herself to sit up, she dug her cell phone out of her purse and called her parents to give them the details of the wedding ceremony. That ought to get her heated urges under control, she thought.

Cole sat at his desk with his head in his hands.

You stupid s.h.i.+t.

He was batting a thousand in his ”How To f.u.c.k Up My Life” program. Hadn't he learned a thing with Maggie? Of course, comparing her to Tara was like comparing h.e.l.l's Kitchen to Park Avenue, but the end result was still the same. His d.i.c.k kept getting him in trouble.

s.e.x had been the farthest thing from his mind when he'd concocted this crazy scheme. It was one good reason why Tara had seemed the logical choice. Efficient well-groomed, s.e.xless Tara.