Page 5 of Marrying the Gardener
He broaches, “Why do you need a fake husband?”
“Doesn’t matter.” I compose myself. “I can’t pay that kind of money for it. You live in Sunset, don’t you? I’ll take you home, and you can forget this happened in exchange for the free ride.”
Reaching, he latches his finger around a lock of my hair again, teasing the strands between his calloused pads. “I’d prefer you answer my question even if it means you drop me off on the side of the road afterward. I can find my way home, but I doubt I’ll get another chance to learn your secrets.”
“Well, we rarely get to have our preferences.”
“Agree to disagree.”
“Do you want the free ride or not?”
He murmurs, “Anytime, Rose-red. Your home, or mine?”
I laugh. “Absolutely not what I mean. And I’d be very careful about pressing your proposition. One call, and Viktor will fire you.”
Letting my hair slip from his fingers, he drags his attention back to the window while a humored smile plays on his lips.“Forgive me. I thought I had permission to plead.”
“It seems there’s been a misunderstanding.”
“You’re right. I’m doing a poor job of begging.” His warm gaze flicks back to me. “Please.”
“Do I need to pull over?”
“No, thank you.”
“So you’ll behave?”
His eyes close. “If I’m making you uncomfortable, it’s not my intention, and I’ll stop. After all, making you uncomfortable certainly doesn’t help either of us.”
Uncomfortableisn’t the right word, but maybe I have a high tolerance for masculine idiocy and have been in far more uncomfortable situations.
Bracing his chin in his hand and his elbow on the door’s armrest, he peers at the landscapes racing outside the window. “I appreciate the ride home. I’ll try not to be too disappointed that the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen isn’t interested in keeping me tonight.”
Eyes rolling, I sigh, and it occurs to me that if this man isn’t lying because he thinks I have money, he’s just made ten thousand dollars off Vivia. “Why do you need to work for the Bachelors if you’ve got a steady career as an escort?”
“Gardening is a passion. This is a job.” He loosens his tie. “Why do you need to buy a husband, Ms. Nightingale? I might be willing to work out a deal with you.”
My interest piques. “What kind of deal?”
“Well,” he begins, tone indistinguishable, “the way I see it, marriage generally involves consummation. Legally, I’m not allowed to charge for such things. If you tell me why you need me, I might be willing to waive all costs. Purely for legal reasons.”
“There would be absolutely no consummating.”
He nods, peaceful. “Of course. I wouldn’t dream of it, Ms.Nightingale…” He pauses. “But if the government got involved and discovered I’d charged you formarriage? How could we possibly convince them there was absolutely no consummating? And what if you change your mind concerning the level of intimacy you’d like to involve me in? Then I’d truly be in trouble. I’m sure you understand I must protect myself. Legally.”
“I will not be changing my mind.”
“I believe you. Fully. But…the government isn’t known for being very trusting.”
Right. Sure. Okay. I’ll play along. “What do you intend to get out of this deal if you’re so willing to cut costs?”
His lips stretch in a way that sends a bolt of electricity down my spine. “Nothing. It sounds like fun.”
It sounds like he wants more chances to get down and dirty withthe Nightingale heiress. Which absolutely isn’t going to happen.
As he removes his tie fully, I scan him, assessing whether or not I could take him in a fight. He’s got shoulders. And brawn. Rough hands that suggest he’s used to hard labor.
I’m not a stranger to self-defense, and I am five-foot-eleven, but he’s got several inches and at least a hundred pounds on me.
