Well, it’s also the money.

  “Can you stall it?”

  “I’m damn well going to try,” Owen mutters. “But the ball is rolling, quickly.”

  “Alright, alright…” I groan.

  “Look, Sam, I know you don’t want to hear it…”

  “So don’t say it.”

  He sighs. “Sam, I already have a contract drawn up. Just find a girl. I’m telling you this as your friend, not just your over-priced lawyer. You can literally pay her as much as you want. The prenup is air-tight, and she stays ‘married’ to you for a year. She can do whatever she wants, and so can you for that matter. But it beats Crystal at this stupid game. Your brother, too.”

  I groan. “Owen…”

  “I get it, Sam. I get that you don’t want to marry again for the wrong reason. But if you don’t do this, you’re going to be just north of two-hundred-and-forty million dollars lighter by tomorrow night.”

  “Let me think on it.”

  Owen groans. “Think fast, Sam. You know, Truman wasn’t itching to drop the atomic bomb, but it ended the war.”

  “Great,” I growl. “I just have to find my own atom bomb. And they say romance is dead.”

  Owen chuckles. “Call any time. I can have the contracts sent to wherever you are.”

  I hang up and sink back in my bed with a groan. Needless to say, my morning wood is long gone.

  ****

  Half an hour later, I’m thanking the bellhop for the brunch he’s just brought up and slipping him a few hundreds.

  “Thank you, sir!” he gushes.

  I smile. “Thanks for the bacon, hoss.” I close the door and carry the tray of food over to the table by the window. It’s still blustering and pure white-out outside, but damn is it pretty. I plop down in a chair, barefoot in jeans and t-shirt, and pour some coffee from the steaming carafe.

  Fuck, that’s good. The caffeine courses through me, and I take the lid off one of the plates and start to dig in on some eggs and bacon. There’s a creak and I look up and see Elise stepping out of her room. She looks like she wants to still be sour to me. But she must smell the coffee, because her lips curl into a smile.

  “Can I…?”

  I gesture at the chair across from me. “Got some for both of us. Breakfast too. There’s a fruit plate, pancakes, granola, and some bacon and sausage if you feel so inclined.”

  She grins. “I don’t, but I’ll take you up on the coffee and fruit.”

  “Be my guest.”

  Elise blushes. “I think I already am, seeing as I slept in your suite and I’m wearing your clothes.”

  I grin right back at her. “Bet you never thought you’d be saying that to me, now did you?”

  Her face reddens even more, and she looks away. But she walks over and takes a seat at the table just the same.

  “Still looks like the apocalypse out there I see,” she groans. She pours some coffee and sighs contentedly when she brings it to her lips with both hands. She takes a sip and then looks up at me. “Sam, I…” Elise frowns. “I need to apologize.”

  “For?” I know what she’s talking about, I just want to hear her say it. Her saying it out loud means it’s real, and I didn’t just drunk-dream that I kissed her last night.

  “For acting crazy,” she says quietly. “And for…” her face turns scarlet, and she looks at her coffee.

  “For kissing me.”

  She looks up quickly, bristling. I can tell she’s stewing to fight me on this, but she doesn’t. She just blushes even more and looks into her coffee again. “I don’t think we need to point fingers, but I think we can both agree that last night was a little insane, and we should probably move past it. Right?”

  “It’s fine,” I shrug. “It’s nothing, Elise. I get it.”

  She smiles and pulls out her phone to check her messages. But my eyes narrow on her, and my pulse beats faster. It’s not fine, not at all. I’m cooped up with the girl I want more than anything in this world and she’s totally untouchable. Or at least she’s touchable until she decides to put her walls up again, like she did last night.

  My phone dings, and I shove another piece of bacon in my mouth and check it. It’s a text from Owen saying, “How’s the thinking going?” I frown and put my phone face-down on the table, and I reach for my coffee. The damn thing dings again, and I snatch it up.

  This time, it’s Evan, and I instantly know he’s been talking with Owen. Or vice-versa. His says “Hey buddy, I know you’re against it, but I think the arranged marriage contract route is the way to beat this. It’s just a piece of paper, man.”

  Yeah, he’s definitely been talking to Owen. But I’m not mad at my friends. I know they’re just trying to look out for me through my stubbornness. I also know they’re right. My own pride and ideals are going to cost me a fortune, today, unless I can pull my head out of my ass. I know what I need to do is go down to the lobby of the hotel, walk up to the first woman I see, and offer her a million goddamn dollars to pretend to be my wife for a year.

  That’s literally the only play here. If I don’t do that, Crystal and my brother are going to rip me off for a quarter of a billion dollars and get away with it. I scowl to myself and shove some more eggs and bacon into my mouth.

  Damnit. I’ve hung on to my ideals for long enough. But it’s time to bite the bullet. Time to go up to the first woman I see and…

  My eyes swivel across the table to Elise. She’s sipping her coffee and daintily popping raspberries into her mouth while she scrolls through something on her phone. Something inside of me stirs.

  I know I’m colored by the fact that I want her. But once I start to go down that mental path, it starts to become clear. She’s gorgeous, she’s smart, and most importantly for the subject at hand, she’s already rich herself. Elise is rich like I’m rich, which means she “gets” the world I live in.

  Yes, I could marry any girl and pretend for a year. But Elise understands money and the world of those with it. Plus, she won’t try anything shady to shake me down for more. Again, because she’s already worth a ton.

  I know this is stupid, and I know she’s untouchable. She’s made that pretty damn clear, even if she was bullshitting about not being into men. But, she also might be the key to everything. The thing is, am I crazy enough to ask her? Or am I crazy enough to let my ex-wife and brother steal half my fortune

  Something tells me, I’m about to flip a coin and find out.

  8

  Elise

  I gasp, muscles straining as the water slides over me. I turn, my feet hit the back wall, and I surge forward with a grunt and a breath of air. The pool is empty, which is shocking considering the whole hotel is still basically on lock-down due to the storm. But I guess people would rather stay in their rooms watching movies.

  Or having sex, I think to myself with a blush. I tingle, and I feel my core flutter with desire. But then I turn and push off the wall for one more lap. Lord, I need to get my head out of the gutter.

  When I finally come to a stop five laps later, I’m panting for air. My muscles ache in a wonderful way, and I pull myself up over the edge of the pool and take off my goggles. The Bellhouse hotel ended up having something sort of like a golfers pro-shop in the lower level. So, I was able to buy a new swimsuit to get some pool laps in.

  The only thing they had in my size is a bikini, but it’s better than just hanging around the suite all day. Especially after last night. I simmer when I think about the kiss, and my face darkens. My pulse somehow still beats a little faster, even after my marathon swim.

  But just as soon as the illicit thoughts of Sam Hemmings pop into my head, I push them back out. Uh-uh, no way. I’ve spent my entire professional career living under my “lie” to get to where I am. I might want Sam with every single cell in my body, achingly so. But I’m not risking all that I’ve built. Not for him, and not for what I have almost no doubt would be the hottest night of my life.

  Quickly, I stand and grab a towel to dry off. I wrap it around myself and head back to the elevators. I need to clear my head of this sort of nonsense, especially before I go back up to Sam’s room. With the snowstorm outside, who knows how long I’ll be cooped up with him and temptation?

  More importantly, how long will I be able to resist giving in?

  ****

  Sam looks up when I step back into the suite. His gaze seems to burn a little hotter when they sweep over me standing in just a towel wrapped around a bikini. His eyes are hungry, and it makes me tingle all over in a very forbidden way.

  I want to say something snippy to him or cover up and go to my room. But there’s something thrilling about the way he looks at me. It feels like I’m flirting with danger, the way people do when they skydive or go bungie jumping. Apparently lusting after Sam Hemmings is an extreme sport.

  His eyes follow me, and neither of us say nothing. And instead of going to my room, I turn, and I blush when I take the towel off. I know I’m dancing on a thin line, but the thrill and the heat of his gaze is too much to resist. I saunter into the bathroom to hang the towel up, and then step back out into the suite, bikini and all.

  Sam actually makes a growling sound in his throat, and my core quivers and tightens. His eyes finally slide up to mine, and I tremble.

  “So how was your day, dear?” He drawls sarcastically in that Texas-laced accent.

  I grin. “Fine. Went shopping downstairs, had some lunch at the bar. Did some laps in the pool.”

  “So I see,” he murmurs. His eyes slide shamelessly back over me, and I feel my pulse quicken.

  “How was yours?”

  He shrugs, frowning a little. “Fine.”

  My brow worries. “Everything okay?”

  “It’s fine,” he grunts, a little too fast. He looks away back at his laptop.

  “Evan texted me earlier.”

  Evan, my sponsoree and Sam’s good friend, sent me a quick note earlier before my swim saying that Sam had a lot of pressure going on and might need some tough love support like I give. I grinned at that: not everyone can appreciate the bordering-on-ball-breaking “tough love” brand of self-help advice I give Evan. But something tells me, Sam is cut from the same cloth.

  Sam arches a brow and looks up at me. “Did he now?”

  “He suggested I help you with something?”

  He scowls. “It’s just work shit.”

  “Well, if you need a sounding board.”

  He chuckles. “I’m not really one for therapy, Elise. I don’t do warm fuzzy kumbaya shit.”

  “Well I was going to suggest you stop being such a pussy about whatever’s eating you, sack up, and face it like a man.”

  Sam grins widely, and he starts to chuckle. “Shit, this is therapy I could get into.”

  “I’m not a therapist.”

  “Just a hard-ass?”

  I giggle. “Apparently. Evan appreciates my tough love, but not everyone does.”

  “I think I could get into into it,” he says with a laugh.

  “Well, want to?” I shrug and look around the suite. “My schedule seems to have cleared.”

  He chuckles and shakes his head. It looks like he’s about to turn me down again, but he stops and looks at me curiously. “You know what? Fuck it, sure. Let’s do this. One condition.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You stay in that bikini.”

  I blush and roll my eyes, and I turn to go into my room to change. “Nice try.”

  It is a nice try, and it does get my skin tingling. But inside my room, door shut, I quickly change into some of the other clothes I bought downstairs. They do say “Bellhouse Hotel” and “Telluride, CO” all over them, but it’s better than a cocktail dress or a bikini.

  I step out in my new leggings and hoodie, and Sam laughs. “What, you weren’t feeling my shorts and t-shirt look?”

  “Boxers,” I roll my eyes. “They were your boxers. And they barely fit me.”

  “Well I think you got into my boxers just fine.”

  I can feel my cheeks burn hot, and I cross to the little kitchenette area. I open the mini-fridge and pull out a sparkling water. “So are we going to talk or not?”

  “Nah,” he shrugs. “I thought the condition was you in that bikini.”

  I laugh. “Fine, sit on your thumb with your drama issues. No lost sleep for me.”

  Sam grins. “Tough love, I like it.”

  “So does Evan, which is why he thinks I’m good to talk to about shit that’s weighing him down.”

  He seems to be weighting it out in his head, his eyes holding mine until my face burns again.

  “Fine,” Sam grunts. “Alright, fuck it. Sure. Do I lay on a couch or something?”

  “Yeah, still not a therapist,” I grin. “Just tell me what’s screwing you up.”

  He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “My ex-wife is trying to sue me for half of my wealth for child support.”

  I won’t lie. The pain in my chest is searing, and nothing I ever imagined I’d feel hearing that from him. It’s a wrenching feeling, and for the first time in a very long time, I’m thrown.

  “Um, what?” I croak.

  Sam growls. “It’s not my kid. Trust me. We’ve been divorced for almost ten fucking years.”

  I frown. “So, what possible legal ground is she going to stand on for child support? A simple paternity test—”

  “It’s my asshole brother’s kid,” Sam says evenly. “They’re in on this together for my money.”

  My jaw about hits the floor. “Holy shit! Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “I wish,” he growls. “So, Crystal and I had this absurd clause in our divorce settlement, which by the way was before I made my money. Basically, if we have a kid within ten years of separating, she gets half of everything. I don’t know if it was her or Rick that set this whole thing up, but the deadline is looming.”

  I balk. “That’s pretty awful, Sam.”

  “No shit.”

  “I mean this is insane. Can they really can just do this?”

  He glowers. “Yep. Fucking thing is airtight. Believe me, I’ve had my whole legal department pouring over it. I don’t know what lawyer drafted that damn thing up back then, but he must be salivating right about now.”

  I frown. “Wait, what deadline do you mean?”

  He sighs and looks out the window. “It’s stupid. Basically, the one thing that nulls her claim is if I’m married before it enters the court.”

  “What, her being pregnant with your child?”

  “Yeah.”

  I frown. “So when is she going to do that?”

  “Soon.”

  My face falls. “Fuck, I’m sorry.” I frown. “But why don’t you just get freaking married? What the hell is the hold up? I mean you’re young, you’re rich, you’re ho—”

  I try and stop myself before I manage to blurt out “you’re hot” to the hot guy sitting across from me. But I don’t in time, and he definitely gets it. Sam grins, but I push on.

  “So?”

  “So, I’ve been avoiding that because I already got married once for the wrong reasons. My parents did too, actually. And I didn’t want two bullshit marriages over and done before I was even thirty.”

  I smile and shake my head. “Who knew that bad boy Sam Hemmings was such a hopeless romantic?”

  He rolls his eyes. “I’m old fashioned is all. Or maybe romantic, fuck if I know.”

  “Wait so is that why you were on Tinder?”

  He scowls. “No, fuck no. I don’t know why I was.”

  I blush and look away. “You mentioned why you were last night,” I blurt out. There’s silence, and when I look up, he’s looking right at me. His eyes hold mine heatedly, and my pulse quickens.

  “I think we’ve covered that,” he growls quietly. I’m tingling all over and feeling my face redden even more when he stands. “Alright, so that’s my whole deal. Whatever, it is what it is. You wanna order some room service? I’m starving.”

  My brows knit. “Sam, you should figure this out. I mean…”

  “I’m starving, Elise,” he growls. “Want anything?”

  I sigh. “Sure. Yeah, let’s eat.”

  ***

  Maybe half an hour later, we’re sitting at the table in the suite eating in silence. Inside my head though, it’s nothing but noise. I don’t know why, but I’m totally hung up on trying to fix Sam’s problem for him. I want to scream at him to just do something to stop his awful ex and his worse brother from stealing from him. But I also know he’s the strong stubborn type.

  I think of the idea of him just marrying anyone to get out of the problem. But when I do, a jealousy I never expected boils inside of me. I can feel myself scowling at the thought, even though I know it’s stupid.

  I go to take a sip of my sparkling water. But when I look up, Sam is looking right at me, intensely.

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” he shrugs and looks back at his food. I go back to mine, but a few minutes later, I look up and see him watching me again.

  “No, really, what?”

  “Nothing, really,” he grunts. “Just brainstorming.”

  “Care to share?”

  He frowns and dwells on it for a second. “Nope,” he finally grumbles.

  That’s that for the rest of us eating. After dinner, Sam turns on the news for some business world highlights. I end up changing into some pajamas from the Bellhouse gift shop downstairs and sitting on the couch next to him to catch up on stuff to.

  Finally, I feel it. I frown curiously, and when I turn, Sam is looking right at me again.

  “Okay, what?”

  His mouth thins, and he frowns. But then he takes a deep breath. “Fuck it.” He moves off the couch and sits on the edge of the coffee table right in front of me.

  “Sam?”

  “What about you.”

  I blink in surprise. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me,” he growls. “What about you? I mean to negate Crystal’s claim.”

 

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