AFTER MISCHA LEFT ASH’S house, he couldn’t find the energy for the bar. He texted Tristan his apology, and headed home for the night.

The next morning, he dragged his way through paperwork. His frustration was multiplied by the fact that he didn’t have any new answers about how to handle the properties that wouldn’t sell, beyond slashing a couple grand off the asking prices, and cold calling every company he could find who might need a warehouse or office building. He had a few for them to choose from. It should be a tempting offer.

He did need to bring Ash her paperwork. Minutes after he had the thought, Mischa was in his car and driving that familiar route once again.

When he reached Ash’s apartment, he knocked.

“Hang on. Be right there.” Her call was followed by the series of loud crashes.

Concern welled inside. “Ash? Are you all right?”

“I wasn’t challenging you,” she screamed.

That sounded bad. Adrenaline raced through him, and he wiggled the doorknob. Unlocked. He pushed inside, and stopped short when he saw her standing in the kitchenette, dishes at her feet, and red splotches of frustration marring her cheeks.

“I told you to hang on.” Irritation lined her voice.

He held up the folder. “This was in my car. I thought you might want it.”

“Yeah. Awesome. Thanks. Leave it by the TV?”

He couldn’t help but glance around the apartment. The entire space was smaller than his entertainment room, and it brought back a wash of memories from when he was younger.

There was another crash, and he looked up to see Ash trying—and failing—to balance plates on her cast-covered arm. It might be funny, in a cute kind of way, if she didn’t look so irritated.

“Let me help.” He strode toward her.

“I’ve got it. You were leaving?”

He wasn’t falling into that again. “Not unless you kick me out. Until then, I’m helping.” He gripped her hips and lifted her to sit on a sliver of empty countertop. Whispers of fantasy teased him with the idea of sliding between her legs and kissing away her frustration.

This is so not the time.

Ash sighed. “They all have to be washed again before they can go back in the cupboard.”

“I’m a big boy. I can wash a few dishes. Besides, your cast isn’t wrapped.”

“I know how to secure a plastic bag over my arm.” Her protest didn’t have any power behind it.

“I’ll find some way to restrain you if you don’t let me do this.” He kept the teasing in his voice, despite the assault of images that accompanied restraining her. Pinning her wrists to the counter, nipping along her neck... What was it about this woman that stole his focus? He kept his expression neutral as he watched her, waiting for the next counter.

She held his gaze for a few seconds, something unreadable simmering in her eyes, then ducked her head. “Dishtowels are in the second drawer on the right.”

He hung his suit coat on the bathroom doorknob, and rolled his sleeves up. Stepping up to the sink meant Ash’s knee rested against his hip. The contact was another handhold for his imagination, skating along his skin with promises of more.

The sink only had one basin, and the counter didn’t have room for a dish rack, so he dried as he washed. There were four each of big plates, smaller, and bowls. Standard Corning ware dining assortment. Plain white. Something about the simplicity of it was comforting.

“Did you really come here to do my dishes?” Ash asked.

“And make sure you’re all right.”

“Kelly said she’s never riding her skateboard again, because it’s got your signature on it.”

He hid a smile. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re not.” Ash’s tone evened out as the crack of aggravation faded. “Thank you for bringing my paperwork, though.” She kicked a lazy arc with one foot, brushing against the back of his leg with each pass.

Fissures of temptation danced over him each time his slacks brushed his skin. “How did you get into my website?” He needed to focus on his reasons for being here, and not the memories of how she tasted in the pouring rain.

“I told you that in my cover letter. Well-known flaw.”

“Do you know how to fix it?”

“I told you that, too. Why would I say I can if I can’t?”

You’d be surprised. Though, so was he. Pleasantly stunned to hear her response. “How long would it take you to fix it? Roughly. Hours? Days?”

“Two hours.” She didn’t hesitate.

He liked that. “Assuming I were to offer you the position, how would you prove you have the skills to do it long term?”

Silence.

He glanced sideways to see Ash staring at him, brow wrinkled.

“Is something wrong?’ he asked.

“Pretty much everything that could be.” Her expression didn’t change. “Not literally, but close enough. I’ve broken my wrist, all-but lost my job, and am being evicted. So I’m trying to figure out if you’re actually in my kitchen, washing my dishes while you interview me for a job, or if the pain pills are better than I thought. And if you are here, what’s the punchline?”

Evicted. The impulse to save her, do more than just wash the dishes, rushed inside. What was he supposed to do, though? The job would help, but it didn’t seem like enough. He set the last bowl aside, dried his hands, and turned the rest of the way to face her. “I’m really here, and it’s not a joke.”

“You’d say that if you were a hallucination.”

“I suppose I might.”

She shook her head. “In that case, and in response to your question, I assume if you knew how to tell I could do the job, there wouldn’t be an exploit for me to find. So... take my word for it. And please don’t turn into a pink elephant.”

He couldn’t help his laugh, and was relieved when she grinned in return. “Job’s yours, if you still want it.”

“You’re definitely not real.” She poked his arm. “I’ve got a good imagination, though. Go, me. But you didn’t ask about my education or my previous experience. Is this because we made out in the rain?”

The reminder danced with his own, but the implication rubbed him wrong. “Business is business, pleasure is pleasure. If I wanted eye candy, I’d hire you to sit on a stool in the corner of the office. That wouldn’t make me happy, and it wouldn’t get the job done. Any other questions?”

“All right. If we’re going to be all serious... How do you get away with spending so much time out of the office?”

The question caught him off-guard. “I don’t.”

She studied him for a moment, swinging her feet. “We’ve known each other less than a week. You’ve shown up here early, mid-morning, and afternoon, but all between business hours.”

Why was he justifying himself to her? “I’m a real estate developer. I spend a lot of time onsite.”

“You spend a lot of time here. Not that I’m complaining. Do you have a lot of properties in the queue?”

“A handful, including a few big ones.”

“And they’re under development.”

He didn’t mind giving her details about the company, but why did he bring up the Wolfram block? Its current status was less-than impressive. “No. They’re complete. Have been for several months. I’m trying to sell, but no one is buying, because I tend to make rash decisions, and this time it’s come back to bite me in the ass.”

He should stop, but giving voice to the frustration that had been building felt good. “And for some reason, the fact that I have a reputation for fucking around—well-earned, I own that—and haven’t settled down, makes some people hesitate to do business with me. And full disclosure, if I don’t sell at least a couple of the buildings on that property in the next month, I forfeit it to my investor, and the asshole is already gloating over it. The bastard actually implied I might do better in this state if I had a family. Because that automatically means responsible? And fucking hell, I’m here to offer you a job. If I wanted shit about being irresponsible, I’d still be in the office with him.”

He drew a deep breath, and realized Ash was watching him with a blank expression.

“Feel better?” she asked when he focused on her.

“A little. I didn’t mean to go off on you. None of this is your fault.”

“It’s okay. I screamed at the ceiling earlier. Sometimes you need an outlet.” Sympathy lined her words. “What are you going to do about it? The investor thing, I mean.”

“I don’t know. Sell the property. Convince everyone somehow that I’m responsible.”

She shrugged. “Too bad you don’t have like... a dog, or kids, or something. Maybe stick with the dog. Do you have one?”

“No.” He stared at her, brow furrowed.

“You should get one. My dad had kids—go figure—and it didn’t make him any more or less of a bozo with his clients.”

Curious. “I’ll get on the dog thing. And pick up a kid while I’m at it. I can get both down at the local big box store, right?” Despite the lingering frustration, the joking helped him feel better.

“You can get one of them here.”

He frowned as he tried to make sense of her statement. “A kid? Wait, are you trying to sell me your sister?”

“I might be.” She smirked. “I would never, but I’m pretty sure she worships you. You could rent her for the day. Play the single dad card.” Ash scrunched up her face. “Yup. Math works out. Geez.” She bit her bottom lip. “You’re old enough to be my sister’s father. That’s kind of screwed up.”

Mischa managed a half-smile as the gears whirred in his head. It was screwed up, but not in the way she meant. And it was brilliant. “Let’s do it.”

“You can’t actually rent Kelly.”

“Better than that.” He took Ash’s hand between his, and locked his gaze on hers. “Marry me.”

“What?”

“It’s perfect.” He was talking to himself as much as her. “We’ll get engaged. Spend a few days learning about each other so it looks authentic...” He trailed off at the unreadable expression on her face. “Is that a yes?”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure if you’re kidding or on better drugs than I’ve got. And as much as I love the impulse thing, this feels like it’s lacking details.”

“I figured we’d get to those, but we can hash it out now.” It was an insane idea, but the longer it sat in his head, the better he liked it. “We’ll have to sooner rather than later, or it’s going to look like a farce.”

“It is a farce,” she said, amusement dancing in her eyes.

“This is what I’m thinking—you need a place to stay, I could use a family. You and Kelly come with that whole aww factor. We do this for a couple of months. Long enough for you to get back on your feet, and for me to look responsible, or whatever it is I’m supposed to be doing.

“I’ve got a lot of room at my place. You and Kelly would be comfortable there, and it’s all for show. So you can live in a different part of the house and never see me unless we go out, if you prefer.” This was ludicrous. But in its own twisted way, it made sense.

*

ASH SHOULD HAVE SAID no the moment this conversation derailed. Told Mischa he was insane and kicked him out. With him standing so close, thigh brushing her knee, gaze fixed on her like she was the only thing in the room, it was hard to find the willpower to push him away.

Especially when she thought about everything that loomed, and that she had no idea how to handle it. Does that make me a whore? He said no obligation. And they were both getting something out of this, right? But it seemed like she was getting more. Even just with the job and a new place to live, it would solve so many problems. “I don’t know...”

He squeezed her fingers. “I’ll make it official.” He dropped to one knee, and her heart leaped into her throat. “Georgia Ashleigh Taylor, since the first moment I saw you, I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind. Will you let me tell the world we’re engaged?”

Heat flooded her cheeks, and she tried not to read too much into his words. He’d been thinking about her? “Tell the world we’re engaged? That’s pretty specific.”

“That doesn’t sound like a no.” He stood, and stepped closer, until her knee rested against his hip.

“This is insane.” So why did she like the idea so much? Besides, that it meant she’d be spending more time with Mischa. An agreement like this was good for Kelly, too.

“Please?” Sincerity filled his gaze.

For Kelly. “Yes. Go forth and tell the world.” Giddiness mingled with doubt. This was just for show. Ash needed to remember that. No reason to go all squishy over it.

“This is going to be a public thing. You should know that.” He traced his thumb along the back of her hand. “It’s not like I’m in the tabloids these days, but business partners, parties, we have to put on a good show.”

She was raised in that kind of environment, but it had been ages. The idea of stepping back into that world, even on the fringes, clenched in her gut. But what did she expect? “Are you trying to change my mind now that I’ve said yes? No wonder you have trouble closing a deal.”

A shadow of a scowl passed over his face, and she made a note to avoid striking that nerve again. “I’m not trying to talk you out of it,” he said. “But full disclosure is fair. This may just be for show, but it’s three lives, so I want to make sure we’re on the same page. Sell it in public.”

“We’ve got the holding hands down.” She wasn’t complaining.

He looked down, then shifted his touch to press his palm to hers and intertwine their fingers. He did that the other night, too. It was now officially one of her favorite gestures.

“We’re off to a good start.” He moved closer, pressing between her legs, holding her gaze. “We have to play nice in public. Watch each other with adoration.”

She licked her lips, unable to ignore the heat racing over her skin. “What about kissing?”

“Absolutely.” His mouth was close enough to hers she felt the brush of his words.

Mischa kissed her, and her pulse screamed in response. She leaned in, wanting to be closer. Her memory lied about the night in the rain—the reality was much better. He tasted like Red Bull and peppermint gum, and the way he nipped her lips sent shudders of expectation through her. He cradled her cheek, deepening the kiss. She could melt into this.

Something in the background clicked—the door?—and Kelly said, “I knew you two were a thing.”

Mischa trailed his thumb over Ash’s bottom lip when he pulled back, watching her. Her cheeks heated to flaming. At least this way she wouldn’t have time to stress over how to break the news.

“I have to tell Emma. She’s never going to believe me,” Kelly’s excitement was an unsettling combination of jarring and infectious.

“It’s better than you think.” Mischa finally turned to face her, still holding Ash’s hand. “We’re getting married.”

“No fucking way.”

“Kelly.” Ash knew it was useless to try and break her sister of the foul language, but she didn’t want it to hold Kelly back. People were judgmental.

“Sorry.” Kelly rolled her eyes. “No freaking way. I can tell Emma, right? And everyone?”

“And then some.” Mischa let go of Ash to help her hop from the counter, then encircled her waist, pulling her back to his front.

Now was a good time to start remembering this was an act, even though the touch felt natural. She leaned her weight against him, enjoying the warmth that seared through fabric.

“And if you mention we’ve been seeing each other for a while, but we wanted to keep things private, that would be okay too,” Mischa said.

Ash cringed at the idea of telling Kelly to lie. “Only if you’re comfortable with that.”

“Whatever. But for the record, she didn’t even know who you were until I told her.” Kelly pursed her lips.

Mischa nudged Ash’s ear with his lips. “Is that true?”

“I’m not a fan of the sport,” Ash admitted. “But you’re incredible on the board.”

“No. That’s good. Perfect. Makes the whole thing sparkle more than if I was marrying a fangirl.”

Ash swallowed a cringe at the clinical-sounding assessment. She’d rather focus on how it felt leaning against Mischa, his chest searing through the back of her shirt.

The touching wasn’t for show the other night, but that was different. Now they had an arrangement.

She didn’t miss the part of his proposal where he offered her a few months—enough time to get back on her feet. It would be all right to enjoy the warmth, security, and temptation while it was there. As long as she kept their deadline in mind.

Then again, she also caught the bit of his tirade where he’d earned his reputation for sleeping around. He was experienced compared to her anything-but.

Suddenly her impulse the other day, to see how he could change her mind about whether or not sex was worthwhile, seemed foolish. Odds were high she wouldn’t be the disappointed one.

He drew his nose along the back of her neck, chasing her doubts away in a flurry.

“I have to get back to the office.” Hot breath teased her skin. “It might look like I don’t do my job, but I promise I do. When do you want to start?”

“Right away.” Out of everything, that was the one thing she was certain of. That and remembering to keep the displays of affection PG in front of Kelly.

Who was currently snapping photos and typing things on her phone. Ash might be worried about what she was publishing, but the device was as out of minutes as Ash’s.

“How about this?” Mischa said. “We’ll move your stuff this weekend, and get you both settled, and you can start on Monday.”

“We’re moving, too?” Kelly sounded like she might burst with excitement.

The more they talked, the longer the list of logistics to resolve grew in Ash’s head. “I still have to sort out school for Kelly. What are the odds you live in the same district?”

Kelly shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She was practically bleeding energy. “Emma’s mom can pick me up. She won’t mind.”

“You can’t just volunteer people,” Ash said.

“Do you go to Hillside?” Mischa asked.

Kelly nodded.

“Pretty sure we have a school bus stop a mile or two away. I’m just up in the benches.”

Which would explain why he picked their park to skate in the other night. It wasn’t far from home.

There were half a dozen other reasons this was probably a bad idea. Mischa’s arms around her waist, and Kelly’s excitement, were enough to make it difficult for Ash to put any reservations into words. “This weekend sounds great.”

“Now, will you give me your phone number?” Mischa asked. “Is it the one on your resume?”

Crap. Now she had to tell him about the not-working cell phones. “No.”

“No to which one?”

She chewed the inside of her lip. “I’ll give it to you, but it won’t work until tomorrow afternoon, after I get paid, and put minutes on my phone.” Which she could afford to do now, if she didn’t have to worry about rent.

“We’ll have to fix that.” He kissed her on the top of the head.

She wanted to ask what he meant, but that might require her to politely refuse something, and she didn’t know if she was up for that right now.

She refused to ask what fate could do to screw this up for her. For once, she was going to enjoy scoring a good deal.