CHAPTER 10

 

 

Two Years Ago—A Moment of Panic

 

Charis: If you ever marry someone—

Asher: Oh, I will marry someone.

Charis: How do you know? How do we ever know what will happen to us? I'm not sure I'll ever get married.

Asher: Why the fuck not? Marriage rocks.

Charis: You say that only because you come from a crazy-happy family. Try growing up with a pair of self-absorbed artistes. Then you won't assume marriage is the surefire path to happiness.

Asher: You'll marry.

Charis: We'll see. Anyway, so if you're right and you do get married, will you have a huge wedding with lots of pomp and circumstance?

Asher: Sure, probably.

Charis: Why? It's A), money you can never recover, B), just setting yourself up publicly for failure, and C)

Asher: Hold on, wait, go back to B for a minute. Why failure?

Charis: Give me a mo and I'll get you the hourly statistics on divorce. It's decreased slightly in recent years, but—

Asher: Nuh-uh. You're suffering from a common misconception. A distribution curve has absolutely nil predictive value concerning any one data point on that curve. There is no reason to assume my n=1 marriage will fail.

Charis: ANYhoo, may I go on? This is the most important point, so listen closely. C), it's embarrassing.

Asher: How is a big wedding embarrassing?

Charis: All those frilly, flowery clothes. Walking down the aisle. Everyone's eyes on you. Why put yourself through that? Stop laughing.

Asher: Come on, what's not to like about women drooling over me in a tux?

Charis: Oh, well, you. Okay, I get that, Mr. Cool. I however would look like a stick insect wearing lace.

Asher: I disagree. You'd look awesome in a wedding gown. Everybody does in custom tailored clothes.

Charis: Aren't you forgetting something? Every wedding gown I've ever seen emphasizes one thing—breasts. Weddings are all about the breasts. How will I succeed at this exactly?

Asher: The right hardware could totally give you cleavage, Sloane. Well, some. Probably.

Charis: Excuse me while I die laughing. The—right—hardware!

Asher: You can be really irritating sometimes.

Charis: All right, so if I do what you say and wear a bustier and the bosom police tries to arrest me for being an impostor, I'll tell him you made me do it.

Asher: Go ahead, be my guest. Just out of curiosity, why are you even talking about this? You planning to get married soon?

Charis: Nah. Even if it were on the table I doubt I'd do something that permanent before finishing my degree. It's just, you and Aura have been seeing a lot of each other and I suddenly wondered if I might have to do one of those bridesmaid things soon. I need warning if I'm gonna dress up.

Asher: If it ever looks like things are going in that direction, I'll give you a heads-up.

Charis: Cool.

 

Charis

 

ASHER'S BEAUTIFUL HAZEL EYES BLINKED up at me. On one level I was impressed I'd managed to shock him with my news. On another, I was vexed I'd managed to land myself in this position—figuratively as well as literally.

We were forming a human pretzel on the floor. Specifically, my legs straddled one of his knees, which left one of mine squished between both of those steely thighs, while my hands had splayed themselves flat on the carpet on either side of his chest.

His face was close enough for me to make out each pore of his skin, each striation in those warm hazel irises, each black, wavy hair on his head.

Uh freaking oh.

Not good. So bad.

Not only were there seventy-five inches of hard, hot Asher Norrell lying temptingly close, not only was he staring at me unwaveringly, but his huge hands were wrapped around my upper arms. I could feel his fingers burning an imprint through my sweater.

Sure, I could try to get up, but there would be a fight. His arms were bunched, telling me I was down and staying down.

We play-wrestled now and then, with him treating me like an errant puppy, so I knew I could get free if I wanted. But no way was I going to risk brushing my parts against his parts right now. With the heat and hardness of him so close, I already felt the familiar deep twisting low in my belly. That was my poor body whining, why didn't you warn me Mr. Sexy was going to grab you and hold onto you? Now look what you've done! You'll need an hour with your vibe on max working out this particular blunder, m'lass!

I stared back down at him with absolutely no idea what to say.

"This is a lie," he said warily. "I promise I'll laugh if you tell me it's a joke."

"It's true, actually," I said, with the guilt that had been dogging me for weeks. I don't know why. It's not like Asher's been around.

I thought the whole unavailable-because-working-things-out-with-girlfriend thing he'd hit me with a while back was a dick move until he made it clear I could call him with anything serious. But I didn't need to tell him about Karl.

Still. It's one of those ethical problems you give students on their finals to mess with them. It all came down to, does your friend feel screwed by being out of the loop, even if he took himself out of it?

I think the answer here is turning out to be "yes."

His eyes slitted, darkened, the green flecks nearly disappearing. "When did you get to know Karl? And don't try to tell me this has been going on for years. I'd have noticed if you two were hitting it off."

"We kind of bonded at Thanksgiving," I said carefully.

"You kind of bonded. Why was I not aware of this?"

I shrugged. "I guess you didn't notice with all your family there. You know what a zoo it is at your folks' during the holidays. Plus you were deep into Aura."

Immediately I winced. I always found myself making double entendres on the subject of Aura. They were that only to me, of course, since to Asher I was the antithesis of a sexual being. As far as he was concerned, the fact that I owned mammary glands and a vagina was a mere technicality.

Now his eyes flashed at me and his hands tightened on my arms. I suddenly found myself shifted so my legs were straddling both of his.

That made my hips fall, with my abs straining to keep myself from dropping right onto him. Whoa and fucking hell. If this was his new idea of chaste horseplay, I was in so much trouble.

"So why didn't you tell me about it later on?"

I rolled my eyes. "When? It's been radio silence all quarter from you. You were incommunicado, remember?"

I fumed about that. Sure, it had been for a good cause. But something stopped me from volunteering what I really thought: no relationship that turns a social guy like you into a hermit is a good one, dude.

A shimmer of something—regret?—crossed his face. "That was my last-ditch effort to try to save the relationship."

"I thought you guys were amping up. Working up to something serious."

"In theory we were. In truth, we were fizzling out big time."

"Yes, well, I see that now."

"I'm waiting."

I shivered. Asher's voice had a deep, seductive timbre even when he wasn't trying.

Funny thing about him—he's fully aware that women topple into his lap whenever he wants them. But I don't think he's quite glommed onto the extent of his power. When he smiles—and he smiles a lot—he can have literally any.

Female.

He wants.

Even me.

It goes beyond his charm and his looks and his smile. His brother Karl is just as good-looking, but there's something remote and inaccessible about him. But Ash—dude has charisma. I know his invention, something to do with weather and agriculture, is innovative and all, but personally I put his success down to all his personal contacts.

I've never known anybody with more friends. He could sell you anything. The way he speaks to you just says, I know you. I know what you need. You can trust me.

It's not quite true, the knowing part. About me, Asher's clueless. I've worked hard to make sure he's stayed that way. Because, cradle robbing.

But that's the lure. And women lap it up.

Aura's that way too. She has some kind of magical allure for men. Separately, they can bring victims to their knees. Together, the two are like this smoking-hot fire that burns anyone who gets too close.

Were. Were like fire.

I needed to accept that they were over. I was still numb about that. I'd been so sure they were never going to be over and that I'd be in this bittersweet platonic friendship forever. Now that Asher was single and available, I couldn't stop thinking what if, what if, what if…

Yeah, fate was having a merry old time at my expense.

"It's kind of a funny story," I said, rubbing my eye. "We just started hanging out together. Nothing big, just a meal or a movie here and there. All very casual. You know Karl, he's—

"I know Karl. Being my brother and all."

Oh, man. Asher sounded pissed. He doesn't get mad at me usually. We get along great. Our friendship, it's not so much touchy-feely as we are devoted hangout buddies.

With an extra side of unrequited lust on my part.

But aside from his sappy adoration of Anita Baker and my obsession with Throbbing Gristle, we rarely go to war.

"So. Yeah." I took a deep breath. "Then one day he said to me, guess what, I've got this problem. I, uh, assume you know about his problem? The thing about his grandma?"

Asher's brows shot up. "Great Grandma Alice. You're fucking kidding me." Suddenly he was pushing me away and I was falling back against the foot of the sofa.

"Well, no. Not really kidding here—"

"Karl doesn't give a rat's ass about that will or its nutty conditions," he interrupted. "Great Grandma Alice rented an apartment in a downtown high rise. Aside from her jewelry, she has nothing. You're not going to get me to believe this has anything to do with that."

"Oh, but it does. She had something he wants. He told me."

"What is it?" Asher demanded.

"I don't know. He wouldn't say. He just said he wants his inheritance."

"He actually called it an inheritance?"

"Yeah. But I'm like you, I got the impression it wasn't money. I mean, we're talking about Karl here."

Asher's eldest brother is Asher's opposite in almost every way. The man I'd agreed to marry is an impractical soul, a will-o'-the-wisp who never commits to anything. As long as he has enough money to travel, he seems to be happy. When he runs out, he makes more, then turns around and spends it. He's the same with his personal relationships—an absolute manwhore.

An interesting life I'd signed up for.

If I loved him, it would be a problem. I'm actually fiercely possessive about the things and people I care about. Cheating is not okay in my book.

Fortunately, love wasn't part of our arrangement.

"Well, go on," Asher said impatiently.

"So he said, I have this problem, I need to get married to receive my inheritance, and I don't have anybody in mind, so how about it, what do you say? And I said sure, why not?"

Asher stared at me. "You said sure why not."

I shrugged. "It's not like I'm about to marry anyone else. I really didn't mind helping him out. We get along fine."

"You get along fine."

"Would you stop repeating me?" Now I was getting irritated.

"Charis, who the fuck gets married to help out a friend?"

"Lots of people, I'll bet." As if I cared.

"So it's a fake marriage."

"What? No, it has to be real. It'll be a real marriage. We'll have a courthouse wedding, we'll live together, the whole deal."

"So you'll fuck him?"

I couldn't stop myself from gaping in shock that he went there. I gave him one of my severe looks. "You did not just say that to me, Asher Norrell."

Red color flooded his face. I didn't often get to see him embarrassed. I could probably count the times on one hand—hell, on one finger.

His features hardened.

Oh, shit, that's not embarrassment. He's really pissed.

"Yeah, I said it," he drawled. "You're marrying my brother. I want to know if you intend to fuck him. Fuck—him. My brother. Or have you already?"

My own face was burning now, and my chest. I felt my nipples do their nipply thing, a chronic problem with Asher's company. "You are acting extremely immature."

"So I'm the immature one. That is what you see here."

"Exactly." Oh, lord. Now he was breathing hard and leaning forward in my space. My heart pounded. Not good. Very not good. I literally couldn't think when he was this close. My brain imploded and to hide it, I screwed up my face in a frown as if I were contemplating the historical roots of Western empiricism. I rock at sneakiness.

"You accepted a marriage proposal to do a friend a favor and that doesn't sound like complete and utter feeblemindedness to you?"

"I get what you think of it," I snapped. "But you don't know everything." Oh, damn, now why did I go there?

He fell on my slip. "What don't I know?"

It takes a lot to rile me, but when I get there my temper can be hot. "You don't know my life plan," I shouted.

"Yes, I do. You're getting your degree and then—" He paused, and I jumped on his hesitation.

"Yeah, go on, and then what? It's acceptable to go without a social life for the rest of my life?"

"What the hell are you talking about? You have a social life, Sloane!"

"Yeah, friends. But I don't exactly have guys lining up out there waiting to date me, do I?" When he looked disbelieving, I yelled, "Show me! You show me a man who can hack a chick like me but isn't a complete stuffwad. The ones that like you, they only want you if you're shooting for a lucrative career. I'm talking really lucrative. Assistant professor does not qualify."

"Assistant? That's a load of—"

"You think I'm guaranteed to get tenure? Not hardly. And no, I know I don't have to get married. I wasn't really expecting to. But why shouldn't I? Huh? Your brother's a decent guy. He's—"

"Decent, hell. Karl will cheat on you the moment you step out of the courthouse."

"How could you say that about your own brother?"

"Because I know Karl. He's entering his third decade and he's never had a girlfriend in his life. He won't commit to a goldfish, let alone a woman!"

"Well, maybe I don't care! It doesn't matter anyway. It's happening. So get out of my face about it."

"Dammit, Charis. You're making a big mistake. You even know you're making a mistake. Admit it."

Oh, shit. He knew me too fucking well. "What makes you say that?" I fixed my gaze on the carpet.

"You wanna know what makes me say that?" He hustled forward, and abruptly I found myself caged in against the back of the couch by his legs and arms. "Because yesterday I tell you I've broken up my long-term relationship, and you proceed to get toasted out of your skull. It's only then that you tell me you're getting married. You know what I think? I think you're jealous."