Page 99 of Wicked Fantasies

Chapter Six

Reed cursed as he looked at the blank screen in front of him. He’d been struggling for over a week to create an ad campaign for Wedded Bliss. The presentation was in two days and he had nothing. He told himself his mental block was due to the fact he knew practically nothing about the institution of marriage, but he wondered if subconsciously he wasn’t throwing the game.

After collecting on her bet ten days, eight hours, and—Reed glanced at his watch—twenty-two minutes ago, Frankie had gone directly back to colleague, friend, ice-queen mode. Ordinarily he would have been thrilled to find a woman like her. One who didn’t pressure for more than he was willing to give. One who enjoyed sex without messy attachments.

He didn’t want that from her.

He was in love with her. Jesus, head over heels in love with her.

A light knock at the door startled him from his uncomfortable revelation. “Come in.”

Frankie stood beneath the frame of their connecting door. “Got a minute?”

For her, he had a lifetime, but he didn’t say that aloud. He merely nodded.

She walked in and took her usual seat in front of his desk. She sat down wearily.

“Problem?”

She sighed. “It’s about my Wedded Bliss campaign.”

Reed leaned back in his chair. He was about ten seconds away from conceding the damn contest on this bid now. There was no way he was going to be able to come up with something between now and Friday. Better to throw in the towel and help Frankie polish up her proposal. “What about it?”

“I don’t have one.”

He sat up. “What do you mean you don’t have one?”

She shrugged. “I’ve tried for days to catch a spark, find an angle. I can’t.”

“Shit.”

She frowned, leaning forward to put her elbows on her legs. “I thought you’d be happy. Thought you’d gloat a bit. I’m out on this campaign. You win.”

He shook his head sadly. “Frankie?—”

She cut him off with a quick wave. “I was just hoping you could wait a day or two before collecting on the bet.”

Her words took him unaware. She looked fragile suddenly, almost afraid. Of him? He’d never hurt her, never force her to do something she didn’t enjoy. “Why?”

She clasped her hands together and looked down. It was the only time he’d ever seen any sign of weakness in her. He didn’t like the look.

“I just need a couple of days.”

“For what?”

Her temper broke and she stood, her feisty fighting spirit emerging. “Goddammit, Reed. I’m not a fucking robot. I can’t put these damn wagers of ours away as easily as you can. I’ve tried, really tried, to make it be just sex, but?—”

He stood slowly. She was hurting too. It was the first chink he’d ever seen in her armor. The first time she’d ever given him hope for a future.

“The wager is a draw.”

She stopped pacing in front of his desk and looked at him. “A draw?”

“I don’t have anything, either.”

She ran a hand through her hair, tucking a stray strand back into her ponytail. His fingers itched to rip out the band constraining her lovely mass of hair. He wanted to see it loose again. “Well, that’s not good.”

He chuckled, though the sound betrayed no humor. “Yep, it would appear we’re up the proverbial shit creek without a paddle.”

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