Читать книгу Matched To Mr Right - Kat Cantrell - Страница 12

Five

Leo was already gone by the time Dannie emerged from her bedroom the next morning. Even though she’d set an alarm, he still beat her.

She’d screwed up at the alumni gala. Leo had been kissing her—oh, my God, had he been kissing her—and then he hit the brakes. Of course work came first, and the woman behind the man should never forget that. But to pretend that kiss hadn’t happened? It was impossible. She wasn’t naive enough to believe she’d break through his shell in one evening, but she thought she’d lifted it a little at least.

At home, his obsession with work shouldn’t be a factor, especially before he left for the office. Tomorrow morning, she’d shove the alarm back thirty minutes. If she beat him to the kitchen, they’d have a chance to talk and maybe share a laugh. Then think about each other fondly over the course of the day.

All good elements of both friendship and marriage.

The next morning she missed him again, and continued to miss him for a week.

Four declined event appointments should have clued her in, but it wasn’t until she caught the startled look on his face when he came out of his bedroom one morning that she realized he’d been avoiding her.

“Good morning.” She smiled despite his wary expression and the fact that she’d been awake since five hoping to catch him.

“Morning.” He nodded and brushed past without another word.

Stung, she watched him retreat down the stairs and vowed not to think about Leo Reynolds the rest of the day. She had a job to do here.

Dannie spent an hour with the staff going over weekly household accounts, then interviewed a prospective maid to replace one who had given notice. She enjoyed organizing Leo’s life. At the alumni gala, she’d navigated Leo’s social circles, recovered from a humiliating dress fail and smiled through dinner with her husband’s ex-girlfriend.

What more could Leo possibly want in a wife?

At four o’clock, Leo texted her with a short message she’d come to expect: I’ll be home late. Make dinner plans on your own.

As she’d been doing for a week. Leo clearly planned to keep her at arm’s length, despite that kiss.

Fuming, she called her mother and invited her over for dinner. Might as well take advantage of the cook Leo kept on staff. She and her mother ate prime rib and lobster bisque, both wonderfully prepared, but neither could keep her attention. Her mother raved about the food, about Dannie’s marriage, about how much she liked her new nurse. Dannie smiled but nothing penetrated the cloud of frustration cloaking what should have been a nice evening with her mom.

As far back as Dannie could remember, her mother had constantly passed on relationship advice: Men don’t stick around. Don’t listen to their pretty words and promises. And variations aplenty espousing the evils of falling in love. The whole point of this arranged marriage was so Dannie wouldn’t end up alone and miserable like her mother. And despite her mother’s best attempts to squash Dannie’s romanticism, it was still there, buried underneath reality.

All men couldn’t be like her father. Leo didn’t flatter her with slick charm, and he’d been nothing but honest with her.

Furthermore, her husband had kissed her passionately, madly, more completely than Dannie had ever been kissed in her life. She couldn’t pretend it hadn’t happened or that she didn’t want more than an occasional text message out of her marriage.

They’d never get past being virtual strangers at this rate. Maybe it was for the best, if Jenna’s fate bore any credence to what might become Dannie’s story. But she couldn’t accept that she and Leo would never see each other. Surely they could spend a little time together. An hour. Thirty minutes.

How was she supposed to handle his social commitments and take care of his every need if he kept avoiding her?

After she saw her mother off in the chauffeured car that Dannie couldn’t quite give up yet, she parked on the couch nearest the stairs, determined to wait for Leo until the cows came home, if necessary. They needed to talk.

An hour later, Dannie started to wonder if Leo intended to sleep at the office. He wouldn’t. Would he? Had she screwed up so badly that he couldn’t even stand to be in the same house with her?

She flung her head back on a cushion and stared at the ceiling. He certainly hadn’t lied to her. He did work all the time and she had done nothing to find her own amusements. Because she didn’t want to. She wanted to be Leo’s wife in every sense of the word, or at least she thought she did, despite being given little opportunity to find out.

Another hour passed. This was ridiculous. Not only was he hindering her ability to take care of him, but he’d agreed they could be friends. How did he think friendship developed?

New tactics were in order. Before she could remind herself of all the reasons she shouldn’t, she sent Leo a text message: I heard a noise. I think someone is in the house. Can you come home?

Immediately, he responded: Call the police and hit the intruder alarm.

She rolled her eyes and texted him back: I’m scared. I’d like you to come home.

Leo: Be there as soon as I can.

Bingo. She huffed out a relieved breath. It had been a gamble, but only a small one. Leo had a good heart, which wouldn’t have allowed him to do anything else but come home to his wife.

Twenty minutes later, Leo pulled into the drive at the front of the house. Dannie flicked on the enormous carriage lights flanking the entrance arch, illuminating the wide porch, and met him on the steps.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his hard gaze sweeping the shadows behind her.

His frame bristled with tension, saying in no uncertain terms he’d protect her from any threat imaginable, and it pulled a long, liquid flash from her core that sizzled. An intruder wouldn’t stand a chance against so much coiled intensity.

“I’m fine.” In a manner of speaking.

Leo’s dark suit looked as superb on him as a tuxedo did. More so, because he was at full alert inside it, his body all hard and masculine. Warrior Leo made her mouth water. She might have to fan herself.

“Did you call the police?” He ushered her inside quickly, one hand steady at her back.

“No. I didn’t hear the noise again and I didn’t want to waste anyone’s time.” Especially since the noise was entirely fictional. Hopefully, once she hashed things out with Leo, an excuse wouldn’t be necessary to get his attention.

He shot off a series of questions and she answered until he was satisfied there was no imminent danger. “Next time, push the panic button. That’s what the security alarm is for.”

“Did I interrupt something important at work?”

Lines deepened around his eyes as his carriage relaxed and he smiled. “It’s all important. But it’s okay. It’ll still be there in the morning.”

Relaxed Leo was nice, too. So much more approachable. She returned his smile and tugged on his arm. “Then sit down for a minute. Tell me about your day.”

He didn’t budge from his statue impression in the foyer. “Not much to tell. Why don’t you go on up to bed? I’ll hang out downstairs and make sure there’s really nothing to worry about.”

Oh, no, you don’t. “I’m not tired. You’re here. I’m here. Come talk to me for a minute.”

He hefted the messenger bag in his hand a little higher in emphasis with an apologetic shrug. “I have some work to finish up.”

“That’ll be there in the morning, too.” Gently, she took the bag from him and laid it on the Hepplewhite table against the wall, a little surprised he’d let her. “We haven’t talked since the alumni gala.”

The mere mention of it laced the atmosphere with a heaviness that prickled her skin. Leo’s gaze fell on hers and silence stretched between them. Was he remembering the kiss? Or was he still determined to forget about it? If so, she’d like to learn that trick.

“There’s a reason for that,” he finally said.

Her stomach tumbled at his frank admission that he’d been avoiding her. She nodded. “I suspected as much. That’s why I want to talk.”

His gaze swept over her face. “I thought you wanted me to tell you about my day.”

“I do.” She started to reach out but stopped as she took in the firm line of his mouth. “But we need to talk regardless. I was hoping to be a little more civil about it, though.”

“Maybe we can catch up tomorrow.” He picked up the messenger bag from the table, but before he could stride from the foyer, she stepped in front of him, blocking his path.

Arms crossed, she stared him down. “Be straight with me. I can handle it. Are you regretting your choice in wives? Maybe you’re wishing you’d picked Jenna after all?”

The bag slipped from Leo’s hand and thunked to the floor. “Not now, Daniella.”

“You mean not now, and by the way, not ever? When will we have this conversation if not now?” Too annoyed to check her action, she poked a finger in his chest. Being demure had gotten her exactly nowhere. “You’ve been avoiding me. I want to know why. Am I not performing up to your expectations?”

“I’m not avoiding you.” Guilt flitted through his expression, contradicting the statement. “I’ve got three proposals out, the shareholder value on one of my major investments took a forty percent loss over the last week and a start-up I staked declared bankruptcy today. Is that enough truth for you? The reason we haven’t talked is because I’m extremely busy keeping my company afloat.”

The Monet on the wall opposite her swirled into a mess of colors as she shared some of that guilt. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have bothered you about the noise. I just wanted to...” See you. Talk to you. Find out if you’ve been thinking of me. “Not be scared.”

Leo’s expression softened and he reached out to grip her shoulder protectively. “You shouldn’t have been. I had the security system installed as soon as you agreed to marry me and it’s top-of-the-line. It would take a SWAT team to breach it. You’re safe here. Do you not feel like you are?”

She stared up into his worried blue eyes and her insides liquefied. He genuinely cared about the answer. “I do.”

It dawned on her then that Leo did a lot behind the scenes—far more than she’d realized. Almost as if he preferred for no one to know about all the wonderful gestures he made or that he was such a kind person underneath. Was he afraid she’d figure out he cared about her more than he let on?

“Good.” The worry slipped from his expression and was replaced with something that looked an awful lot like affection. “The last thing I want is for you to feel anxious or insecure.”

Perfect segue. They shared a drive for security. Surely he’d understand her need to settle things. “You know what would make me feel a lot less anxious? If I knew what was going on between us.” Emboldened by the fact that Leo had cared enough to rush home for her, she went on. “We’re supposed to enjoy each other’s company when we cross paths, but we never cross paths.”

“We just went out a week ago,” he protested with a glint in his eye that warned her to tread carefully.

She wasn’t going to. If Leo pulled another disappearing act, this might be her only chance to make her case. Besides, he said they could talk about anything.

“Exactly. A whole week ago and we haven’t spoken since then, other than a terse ‘Good morning.’ I can’t handle your life if I’m not in it. Besides, our relationship won’t ever develop without deliberate interaction. On both our parts.”

“Daniella.” He put a thumb to his temple. Great, now she was giving him a headache. “What are you asking of me?”

He said it as if she hoped he’d blow through the door and ravish her, when all she really wanted was a conversation over a nice glass of wine. “For starters, call me Dannie. I want to be friends. Don’t you?”

Wariness sprang into his stance. “Depends on your definition of friends. The last time you brought that up, I got the distinct impression it was a euphemism for something else.”

“You mean sex?” Oh, Scarlett had just been chomping at the bit to get in the middle of this conversation, hadn’t she?

Leo gave a short nod. “Well, to be blunt.”

Oh, no. There was that word again. Her last fight with Rob flashed through her mind and she swallowed. Was she trying to ruin everything?

But Leo wasn’t a spineless, insecure guy like Rob who couldn’t handle a woman’s honest opinion. Besides, this was her marriage and she was prepared to go to the mat for it.

“Our marriage apparently calls for blunt. Since I might not get another opportunity to speak to you this century, here it is, spelled out for you. My offer of friendship is not a veiled invitation to jump me.”

His brows rose. “Then what is it?”

Laughter bubbled from her mouth. “Guess I don’t spell as well as I think I do. Didn’t we decide our relationship would eventually be intimate?” Not blunt enough. “Sorry, I mean, that we’d eventually have sex?”

To Leo’s credit, he didn’t flinch. “We did decide that. I envision it happening very far in the future.”

Gee, that made her feel all warm and fuzzy. “Great. Except intimacy is about so much more than shedding clothes, Leo. Did you think we’d wake up one day and just hop into bed? It doesn’t work like that. There’s an intellectual side to intimacy that evolves through spending time together. By becoming friends. I want to know you. Your thoughts. Dreams. Sex starts in here.” She tapped her forehead. “At least it does for me.”

“You want to be romanced,” he said flatly.

“I’m female. The math shouldn’t be that hard to do.”

“Math is one of my best skills.”

What was that supposed to mean? That he’d done the math and knew that’s what she wanted—but didn’t care? She stumbled back a step.

With her new distance, the colors of the Monet swirled again, turning from a picture of a girl back into a jumble of blotches.

She and Leo needed to get on the same page. She took a deep breath. “How did you think we were going to get from point A to point B?”

“I never seemed to have any trouble getting a woman interested before,” he grumbled without any real heat. “Usually it’s getting them uninterested that’s the problem.”

Ah, so she’d guessed correctly from the very beginning. “You’ve never had to invest any energy in a relationship before, have you?”

Gorgeous, well-spoken, rich men probably never did as often as women surely threw themselves at them. He’d probably gone through a series of meaningless encounters with interchangeable women.

“I don’t have time for a relationship, Daniella,” he said quietly, which only emphasized his deliberate use of her full name all the more. “That’s why I married you.”

Blunt. And devastating. She nearly reeled from it.

This was what he’d been telling her since the beginning, but she’d been determined to connect the dots in a whole new way, creating a mess of an Impressionist painting that looked like nothing when she stepped back to view the whole. The spectacular kiss, the security system, the gentle concern—none of it had signaled anything special.

He’d meant what he said. He didn’t want to invest energy in a relationship. That’s why he cut himself off from people. Too much effort. Too much trouble. Too much fill-in-the-blank.

There was no friendship on the horizon, no tenderness, no progression toward intimacy. He expected her to get naked, get pleasured and get out. Eventually.

She nodded. “I see. We’ll enjoy each other’s company when we cross paths and then go our separate ways.” He’d been the one euphemizing sex and she’d missed it.

Her heart twisted painfully. But this wasn’t news. She just hadn’t realized that being in a marriage that wasn’t a marriage was worse than being alone.

How could Elise’s computer have matched her with Leo? Oh, sure, neither of them had professed an interest in a love match, which was more of a tiny white lie in her case, but to not even be friends? It was depressing.

Leo looked relieved. “I’m glad we talked, then. To answer your earlier question, you’re everything I’d hoped. I’m very happy with my choice of wife. Jenna wasn’t right at all.”

Because she’d inadvisably bucked the rule: don’t ask Leo for more than he chooses to give.

“Speaking of which,” he continued, “I’d like you to plan a dinner party for twenty guests in about two weeks. Does that give you enough time?”

“Of course.”

Two weeks?

Panic flipped her stomach inside out. How would she organize an entire party in two weeks? Well, she’d just have to.

This was why Elise matched her with Leo, and running his personal life was what she’d signed up for. She couldn’t lose sight of that. “I’d be happy to handle that for you. Can you email me the guest list?”

He nodded. “Tommy Garrett is the guest of honor. Make sure you pick a date he’s available. No point in having the party if he can’t be there. Any questions?”

A million and five. “Not right now. I’ll start on it immediately.”

That was the key to enduring a marriage that wasn’t a marriage. Jump into her job with both feet and keep so busy she didn’t have time to castigate herself. After all, if she’d begun to believe this marriage might become more than an arrangement because of a few sparks, it was her fault. Not Leo’s.

Her mother was being taken care of. Dannie was, too. Furthermore, she’d spoken her mind with as much blunt opinion as she could muster and Leo hadn’t kicked her out. What else could she possibly want? This was real life, not a fairy tale, and she had work to do.

She bid Leo good-night, her head full of party plans. It wasn’t until her cheek hit the pillow that she remembered the total discomfort on Leo’s face when he thought friendship had been code for sex.

If he expected her to get naked, get pleasured and get out, why wouldn’t he take immediate advantage of what he assumed she was offering?

* * *

Leo’s forehead thunked onto his desk, right in the middle of the clause outlining the expiration date for his proposal to finance Miles Bennett’s software company.

That woke him up in a hurry.

Why didn’t he go upstairs to bed? It was 3:00 a.m. Normal people slept at this time of night, but not him. No—Leo Reynolds had superpowers, granting him the ability to go days without sleep, because otherwise he’d get behind. John Hu had slipped through his fingers at the alumni gala and was even now working with another backer. It should have been Leo. Could have been Leo, if he’d been on his game.

And not spending a good portion of his energy recalling his wife’s soft and gorgeous smile. Or how much he enjoyed seeing her on the porch waiting for him, the way she had been tonight.

Sleep was for weaker men.

Younger men.

He banished that thought. Thirty-five—thirty-six in two months—wasn’t old. But lately he felt every day of his age. Ten years ago he could have read contracts and proposals until dawn and then inhaled a couple of espressos to face the day with enthusiasm.

Now? Not so much. And it would only get worse as he approached forty. He had to make every day count while he could. No distractions. No seductive, tantalizing friendships that would certainly turn into more than he could allow.

Maybe he should up his workout regimen from forty-five minutes a day to an hour. Eat a little better instead of shoveling takeout into his mouth while he hunched over his desk at the office.

Gentle hands on his shoulders woke him.

“Leo,” Daniella murmured as she pressed against his arm. “You fell asleep at your desk.”

He bolted upright. Blearily, he glanced up at Daniella and then at his watch. Six-thirty. Normally he was already at work by now.

“Thanks for waking me up,” he croaked and cleared his throat. “I don’t know how that happened.”

She lifted a brow. “Because you were tired?”

Her stylish dress was flowery and flirty, but clearly altered to fit perfectly, and her hair hung loose down her back. Flawlessly applied makeup accentuated her face and plumped her lips and he tore his gaze away from them.

“Besides that.” He shuffled the Miles Bennett proposal back into some semblance of order without another glance at his wife. Though he wanted to soak in the sight of her. How did she look so amazing this early in the morning?

“Let me make you a cup of coffee,” she offered and perched a hip on his desk as if she planned to stay awhile.

“I have to go. I’m late.”

She stopped him with a warm hand on his bare forearm, below his rolled-up sleeve. “It’s Saturday. Take ten minutes for coffee. I’d like to make it for you. Indulge me.”

The plea in her eyes unhitched something inside. After he’d thrown up barrier upon barrier, she still wanted to make him coffee. How could he gracefully refuse? “Thanks. Let me take a quick a shower and I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

The shower cleared the mist of sleep from his mind. He dressed in freshly pressed khakis and a button-down shirt instead of a suit since it was Saturday. A concession he couldn’t recall making before. What had possessed him to do it today?

When he walked into the kitchen, the rich, roasted smell of coffee greeted him only a moment before his wife did.

She smiled and handed him a steaming mug. “Perfect timing.”

He took a seat at the inlaid bistro table off the kitchen and sipped. Liquid heaven slid down his throat. He wasn’t surprised she’d somehow mastered brewing a cup of coffee to his tastes. “You even got the half-and-half right.”

“Practice makes perfect.” She slid into the opposite seat and folded her hands into her lap serenely.

Something in her tone piqued his interest. “How long have you been practicing?”

“Since the wedding.” She shrugged, and her smile made light of the admission. “I’ve been trying to get up before you every morning so I could make you coffee. Today’s the first day I succeeded.”

The coffee didn’t go down as smoothly on the next sip. Why had she put so much effort into something so meaningless? “That wasn’t part of our agreement. You should sleep as late as you want.”

“Our agreement includes making sure your life runs fluidly, especially at home. If you want coffee in the morning, it’s my job to ensure you get it.”

My job.

Daniella was in the employee box in his head, but he’d never expected her to view herself that way. Of course, why would she view herself any differently when all he talked about was their arrangement?

The cup of coffee—and the ironed clothes, ready at a moment’s notice—took on implications of vast proportions. Everything EA International promised, he’d received. Daniella had slipped into her role as if she’d always been his wife. The staff liked her and already deferred to her judgment, which freed him from having to deal with the cook’s grocery account or the gardener’s questions about seasonal plants.

She was incredible.

If only he’d gotten the wife he really meant for EA International to match him with—one he could ignore—his life would be perfect.

It wasn’t Daniella’s fault he suffered from all-or-nothing syndrome. Intensity was the major backbone of his temperament. That’s why he didn’t draw anymore. Once he started, he could fill an entire notebook with landscapes, people’s faces—Carmen’s beautiful form—and then scout around for a blank book to begin filling that one, too.

If it hadn’t been for his calculus teacher’s timely intervention, Leo would probably be a starving artist right now, doodling in the margins of take-out menus and cursing the woman who’d been his first model. And his first lover. He’d been infatuated with capturing her shape on the paper, infatuated with her. His teacher had opened his eyes to his slipping grades, the upcoming SATs and a potentially bleak future mirroring his parents’ if he didn’t stop skipping school to draw Carmen. Fortunately, he’d listened and turned his intensity toward his education, then Reynolds Capital Management, vowing to never again let his obsessive personality loose on anything other than success.

He knew it the way he knew the sky was blue: the second he let himself taste Daniella again, that would be it. He wouldn’t stop until he’d filled them both. And once wouldn’t be enough. He’d be too weak to focus on anything except her.

“Thanks for the coffee. I should go.” Leo shoved away from the table.

Her warm almond-colored eyes sought his. “Before you do, I have a couple of questions about the party for Tommy Garrett.”

He settled back into the uncomfortable wrought-iron chair. “Sure.”

It was the only subject that could have gotten him to stay. The party was critically important since Garrett had narrowed down the field to two firms. Leo didn’t intend to lose out to the other guy.

She leaned forward on her forearms with all the attentiveness of someone about to leap into a negotiation. “What does Garrett Engineering make?”

Not What china should I use? or What hors d’oeuvres should I serve? “Why does that matter?”

“I’m curious. But also because I’d like to know more about the guest of honor. From you. I’ll call his admin but I want your opinion. It will help me plan the menu and the decorations.”

There was something hypnotic about Daniella’s voice that pulled at him. He could listen to her recite the phone book. “I wouldn’t have thought of that.”

Her mouth tipped up in a smile that was so sweet, it pulled one from him. “That’s why I’m here. Tell me.”

“Tommy’s a bit of a whiz kid.” Leo pursed his lips as he contemplated the most relevant facets of the man—and he used the term man in the loosest sense—he wanted to do business with. “One of those geniuses who wears Converse sneakers and hoodies to work. He’s just as likely to spout Xbox stats as engineering principles and no one cares because he graduated summa cum laude from Yale. He designed a modification to the way gasoline is consumed in a car that will increase gas mileage by almost double. It’s revolutionary.”

“You like him.”

“Yes.” The admission surprised him.

He hadn’t thought one way or another about whether he liked Tommy Garrett. Leo liked the instant profitability of Garrett’s design. He liked the idea of orchestrating the financing and letting Tommy be the face of the venture. Tommy had a lot of spirit, a quick wit and, despite the hoodies, he also had a work ethic Leo respected. It wasn’t unusual to have a conversation at eleven o’clock on a Saturday night to brainstorm ideas.

Impressed, he cocked his head at his wife. “How did you ferret that out from what I said?”

“Because I listened with my eyes.” Her smile widened as he snorted. “I could see it in your expression.”

Leo tried to scowl but he was enjoying the back-and-forth just as much as the sound of Daniella’s voice.

“It doesn’t matter whether I like him. We stand to make a lot of money together and that’s the key to our association. The party is paramount. He’s got another potential partner on the hook and I need to convince him to go with Reynolds.”

“What percentage stake in his company did you offer in the proposal?” He did a double take and she laughed. “I read up on how venture capital works. How can I help you land the deal if I don’t know what I’m talking about?”

Perhaps he should have had a cup of coffee with his wife long before now. “I guess I thought you’d handle the party details and I’d handle Garrett. But I’m reconsidering that plan.”

If he unleashed the formidable force of Daniella on Tommy Garrett, the poor guy probably wouldn’t even know what hit him.

“You do that. Tell me more.”

Her smile relaxed him. She had the best smile, easily given, genuine. He liked seeing it on her, but liked being the one to put it there even more. Making women smile wasn’t a skill he felt particular proficient at, though. Maybe he should take a cue from his wife and practice.

“Not only will his design fit new engines, it retrofits to existing engines so it can be sold to both consumers and automobile manufacturers. It’s almost miraculous. He might as well have designed a way to print money.”

“Sounds like you really believe in the product. I can’t imagine why Mr. Garrett would choose another venture capital firm.”

“Because it’s business. Not personal. And actually, I couldn’t care less what the product is as long as the entrepreneur comes to me with a solid business plan and proven commitment.”

“All business is personal, Leo,” she said quietly. “If you didn’t spend so much time behind the scenes, you might discover that for yourself.”

“Behind the scenes is where I function best.” Ensuring the players never had to worry about money as they took center stage—that was his comfort zone. He couldn’t afford to get truly involved or he’d bury himself.

Her expression softened, drawing him in. “But in the middle of things is where the best experiences are.”

He had the distinct impression they weren’t talking about Tommy Garrett anymore and had moved on to something he did not want to acknowledge in any way, shape or form.

“Thanks for the coffee. I’m going to head in to the office.” He glanced at his watch. Almost seven-thirty, but there was no rush hour on Saturday, so he hadn’t lost too much time. “If you have any more questions about the party, don’t hesitate to call me.”

“Have a good day.” She covered his hand with hers and squeezed. “Don’t look now, Leo, but I think we just had a friendly conversation. Are you shocked it didn’t kill you?”

No, the shock happened when he laughed.

Her return smile stayed with him as he climbed into his car. The gas gauge needle pointed to full. When was the last time he’d even glanced at it? He drove to the office and instead of thinking about whatever else should be on his mind, he thought about Daniella.

Dannie. Maybe she could be Dannie and that wouldn’t kill him, either.

No way. He couldn’t imagine allowing it to roll from his tongue.

As much as he wished he could ignore his wife, he was painfully aware she conversely wished he wouldn’t. They had an agreement, but it didn’t seem to be sticking and she was flesh and blood, not a piece of paper. Or an employee.

And agreements could be terminated.

He was getting what he hoped from this marriage. She wasn’t, not fully. If he wanted her to be happy, he had to give a little. Otherwise she might walk. A sick worm of insecurity wiggled into his stomach at the idea of losing a woman who fit into his life so well. And who, against all odds, he liked.

Friends. It didn’t sound so terrible. Surely he could handle a friendship with his wife.