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Chapter Twenty
After brushing her teeth, Britt took a final glance in the mirror. Without makeup, the freckles on her nose stood out like sprinkles on a cupcake, and her loose hair had frizzed courtesy of the humidity.
Just the look she'd aimed for…before she'd taken a bath and had that little revelation to make the most of the next two months with the sexiest guy to walk the planet.
Her bad boy.
Who was doing his best to appear good, but she knew better, knew the underlying rebellious streak that lent him a dangerous edge she found infinitely appealing.
Most girls went through a bad-boy phase, lusting after guys they shouldn't, guys with attitude, guys you wouldn't dare bring home to meet the folks.
Nick had been her James Dean, Marlon Brando, and Sean Penn rolled into one and, while the designer suits and air of success had softened the edges, he was the same sexy rebel underneath.
But it was more than that, so much more, and the way her heart squeezed every time he entered a room these last few days proved she'd developed a monstrous crush on her rebel all over again. A crush she finally planned to indulge.
However, she had a problem. The pyjamas she'd brought were a deeply unsexy pair she'd purchased especially to appear as unappealing as possible. Her body hummed with the heat of the bath and anticipation, but the fuchsia stripes wouldn't do the job.
As for the lingerie she'd intended on using to prove her point tonight, it had taken a tumble into the sink while she'd been brushing her teeth and there was no way she was walking into their bedroom wearing wet, see-through, ivory lace.
That left only one option.
Wrapping the towel around her damp body, she took a deep breath and prepared to leave the safe haven of the bathroom.
Only a towel between her and Nick. As if she wasn't nervous enough.
Nick had his back to her and she was grateful for that extra shot of oxygen a second ago, because the moment she caught sight of him her lungs seized.
Soft black cotton moulded his broad shoulders, hugging the muscular contours of his back before tapering to a narrow waist, tucked into faded denim. His signature outfit ten years ago, black T shirts and denim, a clichéd bad-boy outfit, but she'd never cared. He'd always looked delectable and nothing had changed.
With her eyes fixed on his butt, she must've made an embarrassing sound akin to a groan because he turned, his gaze zeroing in on her bare skin.
His eyes widened and he swallowed. Britt smiled, his reaction fuelling her faltering courage.
He shook his head as if to break himself out of a trance, cleared his throat, and finally spoke in a low, dangerous tone.
'Just so you know, if you're planning on keeping this marriage platonic, you'll definitely need a few more clothes. Maybe an entire wardrobe.'
His low tone held a hint of warning she had no intention of heeding.
Britt could see the barely contained bad boy. The thought of what might happen when he broke out added further to her inner trembling.
'I wanted to talk about that—'
"Yeah?” His response came so fast it interrupted her mid-sentence and she gaped at him like an idiot for a moment, her train of thought derailed. 'You were saying? Something about seducing me?'
His wide grin broke the tension as she remembered how much she liked this man.
'You wish.'
'You have no idea how much.'
The intensity of his stare made her stomach plummet in a frightening freefall as liquid heat pooled in places long ignored, every inch of her hungry body on high alert as the bed dipped when he sat next to her.
While her scrambled brains tried to form the words she was having such a hard time articulating, he sighed. 'But I thought about it, and you’re right.'
What? No. Before she could protest, he continued. ‘I know you, Britt. I can tell you're not interested in changing the status quo between us. You don't want to ruin a good working relationship. You don't want to risk wrecking our deal by letting sex get in the way of the sound business decision we've made, right?'
Wrong.
