Paris Fairchild
I STARED AT the contract and tried not to laugh.
The taped-up pieces of paper with my snarky comments written all over them didn’t exactly make it a legally executable document.
Tyler and I were sitting in the back of Wilhelmina’s car and the driver was speeding down the freeway on his way to San Francisco.
Using his sexual prowess to get what he wanted, Tyler tossed his chocolate brown hair out of his flashing blue eyes and pointed to the entire page. “You want me to delete all of these items?”
I nodded. “Yes, that page and the following one, too.”
Without hesitation, he took both pages and tore them in half the opposite way that I had. Something primal entered his eyes when he handed both pieces to me. “See, I know how to negotiate.”
Satisfaction brimmed in my gaze. “I have a few conditions of my own for you to add,” I said insistently.
One sexy eyebrow lifted. “Do you now?”
His tone was sinfully delicious and elicited a shiver that took its time running up my spine. “Yes.”
“And those would be?”
“First, you have to agree that this marriage is temporary. As soon as we sort the businesses out, we go back to our separate lives.”
“Not happening, Love. Marriages don’t work that way. There’s no language I can put in here that wouldn’t nullify the entire contract if I add the word temporary.”
My gaze narrowed. “Fine, just as long as we both agree, this is temporary.”
He shook his head. “It doesn’t have to be.”
“It does, Tyler, and you know why.”
He closed his eyes in anguish. “I have changed, Paris, and I will spend whatever time we have together proving it to you.”
Believing him was easy, but letting the heartbreak go, that was anything but. “Next,” I said firmly. “I want separate bedrooms.”
Covering his mouth, he laughed into his palm and then coughed. “Yeah, okay, sure, Love.”
I pointed to the paper. “Write it down.”
With his fancy pen, he wrote, #25. Husband and wife shall maintain separate sleeping quarters.
“I also want a no cheating clause with repercussions if there is any.”
His body went taut and he didn’t make any smartass comment. Instead, he said, “You know I never cheated on you.”
That was something I didn’t know, and something I didn’t want to think about, either. So instead, I motioned to the paper. “Write it down.”
This he did without a single protest. For the past ten years, I had no idea if he had or had not cheated on me, but sitting beside him now, I wanted to believe more than anything that he had not.
Trust was a hard thing to earn, though, and an even harder thing to keep. We both had a long way to go before that word left either of our lips.
Satisfied, I took the document from his grasp and found page three. “Here, this clause, it bothers me.”
He read it over and glanced up. “I won’t change that, Paris.”
“And why not?”
“There’s a huge chance we won’t be able to maintain the cash flow it takes to operate two wineries, even with the merger. One of our businesses is more than likely going to have to fold into the other for the whole to survive.”
“And let me guess which one? Mine.”
“You’d be wrong,” he said sternly. “Sure, I’d hate to shut down California Jane but if that’s the way the cards fall, I will.”
This wasn’t a poker game. “You’re telling me the two of us have to decide between Highway 128 or California Jane?”
He nodded. “Possibly, but that’s the reason we’re getting married. It will ensure equality.”
I gave a harsh laugh. “We’ll kill each other, you know that.”
“Possibly,” he said again.
Clarifying, I asked, “So basically, it’s you and me in the boxing ring going round for round for the next year?”
He bit his lip and sucked it between his teeth contemplatively. “I’m not sure I’d put it that way, exactly, but I have to admit, it sounds rather fun.”
I rolled my eyes. If he kept his flirtatious behavior this ramped up, it’s was going to be so easy to avoid falling under the spell of his devilish charm.
“Listen,” he got serious. “If we are unable to keep both companies afloat, wouldn’t you rather end up being a part of something rather than owning a piece of nothing? I know I would.”
Yes, he was right, of course, so I nodded. Yet, I felt conflicted. I wanted Highway 128 to come out on top, but I knew Tyler loved California Jane with a passion I would never know. And I knew if he lost it, he’d lose a part of himself, and I didn’t want that for him.
He had the label tattooed on his forearm, that’s how invested in the company he was.
“It’s important we both agree that if it comes to making a choice, we shut down the family business that is least profitable but keep the merger intact.”
Those dynamics weren’t ones I wanted to think about because it meant having Tyler in my life . . . forever, possibly. Yet, I knew Highway 128 was on its last breath, and without him, it had no chance of survival. So that was how I found myself nodding again.
“It’s spelled out in these clauses.” He pointed to an entire page of what-ifs.
The legalese was challenging to understand as I skimmed the items, but in the end I got the idea. Once I was done reading, I reluctantly agreed to the terms—marriage and all.
It wasn’t like I had a choice.
To be honest, he had the upper hand. As if sensing my apprehension, he moved a little closer as if he were a predator ready to strike. The scent of his intoxicating cologne made my head spin. “Now that the contract negotiations are settled, should we address birth control?” he asked with a rueful smile on his lips.
The flirting had simmered to charm and I found it so hard to resist. Yet I knew I had to make him understand our chance had passed, so I put my invisible shield up and glared over at him. “No, we shouldn’t, because like I already told you, we won’t be having any more sex.”
One eyebrow lifted and amusement twisted his lips. “Right. I’d almost forgotten about that. Should I add it to the contract?”
Binding a statement like that wasn’t the best idea. I snatched the pen from his hand. “That’s not necessary.”
The pull and push of the Mont Blanc had caused our fingers to tangle and everything between us went electric, that current lashing through the air.
The longer we touched, the harder my heart beat and the more erratic my breaths became. What was probably only three seconds felt more like three minutes until he finally relinquished the pen to me.
His chest was rising and falling, and I knew he’d felt what I had. And I didn’t miss the way his eyes flicked down to his lap or the way my body thrummed like a drum when they did.
Damn him.
“Where do I sign?” I asked, my voice raspy and low.
His responding roaring laughter filled the car. “On the dotted line, Love, where else?”
Yes, he knew exactly where I was thinking.
As I scrolled my name across the contract that would bind us as more than business partners, I couldn’t stop my hand from shaking.
And it wasn’t from nerves.
It was excitement.
But he didn’t need to know that.