CHASE IGNORED HIS MANNERS. Swerved around common sense. Gave in to instinct and extended their kiss into something that they were no longer pretending. The type of kiss that he’d definitely share with his wife.
Too soon, Nichole broke away. She blinked slow and steady as if clearing the mist from her fog-filled senses. A deep blush seared from her chest to her face. Chase kept his arms around her, seeking his own balance. He’d replay that moment in slow detail later.
The waiter placed a bottle of champagne and two glasses with strawberries resting on the rims on the table. Added a quick whispered explanation: courtesy of the gentlemen who had just left, before he disappeared again.
Just like that, the private dining room became even more private.
Nichole scrambled off Chase’s lap, dropped into the chair beside him and latched on to her binder like it was the elephant in the room. “They forgot my business plan.”
“You can email the information.” Then kiss me again as if we really were newlyweds. Chase scrambled away from his own thoughts, wanting to call a false start penalty on himself.
Newlyweds implied a shared connection. A connection that went deeper than appearances, first names and conversations about the weather. Newlyweds promised each other a future together. Newlyweds trusted each other to fulfill that promise.
There would be no more kissing. And apparently no more protecting Nichole from the duo. Frustration over the kiss and his safeguarding had to come to an end. Or perhaps it was the floundering feeling that he’d been seconds away from something astounding, only to find himself sacked one yard from the goal line.
Nichole secured the binder in her bag. Her hands fluttered over the dessert menu. She looked everywhere, except at Chase. Her foot tapped a restless beat against the hardwood floor. Chase shifted his focus to where it belonged: her business deal. “I wouldn’t send anything to those guys until they sign an agreement.”
“What kind of agreement?” Her fingers stilled on the menu. Her foot slowed.
“The kind that says Fund Infusion won’t talk about your idea or steal your program.” Nichole and Chase needed an agreement too. Or at the very least an understanding about exactly when his fake husband duties officially ended. Everything had to end.
“You’re talking about an NDA.” Relief flowed through her words and her shoulders lowered. “I already signed one.”
“But did they?” Would she want him as a fake husband for much longer? He couldn’t continue their ruse. It was wrong. And yet, like most of his bad ideas, this one had appeal. Too much appeal.
“I never requested they sign one. That was stupid. I’m glad you’re here.”
What more could he do for her? He was a football player, not a lawyer. Thanks to a long-standing battle with dyslexia, he most likely couldn’t get through the first page of her potential contract. People were depending upon her to make smart choices. She deserved a more qualified fake husband. Yet for a fake wife, Nichole was perfect. He should definitely end things here. “So, about this marriage thing?”
“I’m so sorry.” Nichole covered her face with her hands. “I panicked and it came out.”
“I panicked too when you landed on my lap.” Chase chuckled, bringing the conversation back to the light and easy like he preferred. Like people expected from him. “Beautiful woman...heat of the moment...hot kiss.”
He bypassed an apology. He wouldn’t have been sincere. There was something special about their kiss. The first contact had spiked through him and a different sort of adrenaline rush had overtaken him. He wanted another hit. Still, he should explain.
A variety of red shades colored her cheeks and stained her neck. He wanted to trace his fingers over her skin, discover if her pulse raced as fast as his. His gaze locked on to her hands, the ones blocking his view of her mouth. The temptation to kiss her bypassed his common sense.
He’d earned his reputation for misbehaving over years. Although he’d been well-behaved most of the evening. He couldn’t change his entire personality overnight. One more kiss between friends. In private. No one had to know. Surely that would end his sudden fascination with Nichole Moore.
“We should let the marriage stand.” Time out. That was completely wrong. However, the idea felt right. The same way a football had always fit naturally in his hand.
“You aren’t serious.” Nichole gaped at him.
“Maybe.” He shrugged.
A pretend wife, specifically one like the stable and steady Nichole Moore, had merit like a trick play on a fourth down and one yard at the goal line. Certainly, a wife like Nichole would help polish his tarnished reputation. The very reputation the Pioneers’ staff and his agent had insisted he repair. Immediately.
Fortunately, her common sense remained intact. She shook her head. “Of course, you’re not serious. You’re never serious about anything.”
“I’m very serious about football.” And saving his career any way he could. He grabbed her hand and his decision. “And this.”
“You can’t be.” She tugged her hand free in disbelief.
“It makes sense.” Except for the list of potential drawbacks, including possibly hurting her reputation. Asking her to lie. Wanting to kiss her again.
Chase abandoned his list of cons and moved closer to Nichole. The connection settled him. “You said yourself you’re glad I’m here. Well, I can be right beside you until you sign your contract with Vick and Glenn.”
Could he repair his reputation, save his career, help Nichole and keep her in the friend-zone? She had to stay where she couldn’t distract him, and he couldn’t hurt her. But this was such a bad idea.
“You want to remain my husband.” Nichole’s eyebrows raised, her mouth pursed.
She was the only one who had ever ignored his charm and always expected more from him. She’d never let him off easy. He’d missed her. He pile-drove that realization beneath the con list, regained the breath trying to hitch inside his chest and raced down the path of no return. “I have my own contract negotiations going on.”
“You cannot believe a fake marriage will help.” Nichole’s voice ratcheted from disbelief to full-blown skepticism.
This was the Nichole he knew. The one who’d always guided back him back to the right path. The one who’d held him to a higher standard. The one who’d let him devise his schemes in full detail and had squashed them. Soon she’d force him to see the error of his ways and present a better option.
“Absolutely. I need a reputation overhaul.” He relaxed into the smile he always relied on and warmed to his scheme. Secure in the knowledge that Nichole would never agree. “You said it yourself. I’m never serious about anything. Married men are settled, dull and disillusioned. I definitely don’t ever want to be actually married.”
“This is a bad idea.” Nichole put a hand to her forehead.
“It’s only short-term,” Chase assured her. Perhaps if his father had told his mother the very same thing—that his wedding vows had an expiration date, his mother wouldn’t have been so hurt and devastated when his father had left. “Until contracts are finalized and signed. Then we break up.”
“We claim our lives are going in two separate directions, file for a pretend divorce citing irreconcilable differences.” Nichole paused as if sorting the details out inside her head. “That’s what all those celebrities do and then they go their separate ways. Everyone’s happy.”
Chase’s mouth dropped open. Nichole had never contributed to one of his schemes before. Never. “We couldn’t tell anyone the truth. No one.”
“Of course not.” Nichole frowned at her glass of champagne. “Not even our families.”
She’d never liked lying. And this scheme required they lie to the ones they loved the most. This couldn’t be happening.
“We only tell the people we need to about our marriage.” She nodded. Her voice gaining strength. “We ask for their discretion like we did with Glenn and Vick.”
“You do remember that I always come up with horrible schemes.” Like when he’d decided to cheat off her test in biology.
“Is it so horrible if my app sells and your contract gets renewed?” Nichole dropped a strawberry in her glass of champagne as if preparing to celebrate. “Is it so horrible if we both get what we want?”
His gaze tracked back to Nichole’s face. He could want... Talk about bad ideas. “I’m asking you to lie to save my career.” That was all kinds of wrong. And still he never called a time-out.
“I created the whole lie in the first place.” She dunked another strawberry into the glass as if searching for clarity in the bubbling liquid. “I started this.”
He took both of her hands. “So, we decide together how we finish it?”
“I want my dream, Chase.” She squeezed his hands.
I want my dream. I deserve it. He’d confessed that to Nichole after he’d told her about his dyslexia and his struggle to pass his classes. She’d looked him in the eye, conviction in her voice. Then you’ll have it. But only if we do things the right way. My way. “Shouldn’t you be telling me this is a bad idea? That it’s wrong to deceive people to get what we want.”
“It is a really bad idea.” Her gaze fastened on his. Direct and probing. “But I know the kind of man you are.”
“What kind is that?”
“The kind who doesn’t want a partner. The kind who doesn’t trust in commitment.” Her intent gaze skimmed over his face. “The one who doesn’t believe love conquers all.”
She was right. He was selfish. Relied on himself. Loved his job more than anything or anyone else. Her accusation hit more precisely than a targeted sack from an opponent. Chase rubbed his chest, hoping to loosen the airflow and tease her into seeing just how bad an idea this was. “How is that a good thing?”
“I’m the same kind of woman. This is only a business arrangement between old friends.” She released his hands. “We aren’t deceiving ourselves. Love, promises and vows aren’t involved. We won’t walk away brokenhearted.” She picked up her champagne glass, her tone earnest. “We’ll walk away with everything we wanted.”
Not everything. He wanted to kiss her again. Another bad idea.
She tipped her champagne glass at him. “Also, we are not making any kind of public announcement.”
He knew the media. A mediocre reporter could figure out who had attended a private party from the take-out containers located in the trash. Chase could promise only so much, but nothing more. “There won’t be a press release.”
“So, no public announcement.” She counted off the details on her fingers as if bad decisions were always made with logic and not haste. “We tell only the people we absolutely must that we’re married. We close the deal with Fund Infusion. Get your contract renewed. Then end our marriage.”
Simple. Less than a handful of steps. But the details... Those complicated everything. “You don’t like to take risks.”
“I have to take this one.” Her expression was sincere and serious. “This is for my family.”
He’d do anything for his family too. Chase ran his hands over his face. His family had considered Nichole one of their own in high school. Claimed her as part of the Jacobs family. He held out his hand. “Do we have a deal then?”
She set her hand in his. “We’re in a business arrangement.”
“We’ve been friends too long to ink our fake marriage with a handshake.” And because he’d always been a risk-taker, he stood and pulled her toward him. “Let’s seal the deal correctly?”
His arms wrapped around her waist. He leaned forward, chasing that hint of an adrenaline rush. Her eyes closed, her long eyelashes fanned across her tinted cheeks. Her face softened. Suddenly risk averse, Chase used a successful hook route, shifting at the last second to press his lips against her forehead.
A reminder to himself their marriage was only a sham. Hearts were not included in any deal. And all adrenaline rushes were best avoided.