A Deal With the Devil (18 page)

“Where are you going?”

“To bed,” she said. “You’ve killed my buzz and now I’m exhausted. Plus, it’s pretty obvious I won’t get any sleep if I stay out here.”

Jake watched Amanda carry her glass to the kitchen, his thoughts a confused mixture of self-recrimination and desire. He should’ve never gone to the cabin. She’d been hard enough to get out of his head while in Iraq. And now, he wasn’t just haunted by thoughts of her, he had to deal with the
real
Amanda. He didn’t understand why he couldn’t get her out of his head. They didn’t make sense together. They’d proven this time and again. It’s why he’d been so sure about the break-up. He’d thought through the facts countless times in the past year and was convinced he’d been right to end it.

But he couldn’t rationalize away his fantasies of her. It had to be a sex thing. She bent over to pick up a shoe and his eyes drifted to her perky bottom. Yeah, it was definitely a sex thing. They were wrong for each other in every way but one and it all came down to chemistry. His attraction to her just hadn’t burned out yet and until it did, she would drive him crazy.

Amanda picked up the other shoe and strutted by, her chin in the air.

Jake’s fingers closed around her wrist. “Wait.”

She tossed her hair over a shoulder and looked up at him. “I’ve done everything you’ve asked. What more could you possibly want?”

His arm snaked around her waist and he tugged her close. She came willingly, but her eyes widened and in them, he saw fear, confusion, hurt. But he also detected a glimmer of desire. And that was all he needed. He drew her closer. She came willingly, nestling into his chest and his hand skimmed up her arm and then came to rest under her chin. He tipped it up and his gaze drifted to her slightly parted lips. “I want this,” he whispered.

His lips captured hers. Their kiss started whisper soft but a heartbeat later, passion ignited. Blood roared through his veins and blocked out whatever coherent thought he still possessed. As he molded her body to his, he no longer cared whether they made sense together or not. He wanted her. Jake deepened the kiss. Amanda dropped her shoes and her lips parted as she wrapped her arms around his neck. But it still wasn’t enough. Jake wanted more. After a long, empty year without her, he needed more.

He laced their fingers and dropped to the sofa. She sank into his lap and melted into him. She threw her mussed, dark tresses over a shoulder, exposing the graceful creamy arc of her neck.

“I missed this,” he whispered. He’d missed
her,
but he couldn’t bring himself to say those words; didn’t want her to know the truth. He didn’t want to feel more vulnerable than he already felt. “You’re a very good negotiator,” he said as he planted a trail of kisses down her neck.

She moaned—a throaty, feral sound—and threw her head back, her thick tangle of curls spilling over his hands. He buried his fingers in her hair and nibbled at the delicate skin of her earlobe. “If this is part of our deal, where do I sign?”

Amanda stiffened and pulled away. “What did you say?” The pliant, passionate softness was gone, replaced by a cold, steely glare.

“What’s wrong?” Jake tried to pull her close again, but she pushed against his chest and stood.

“Sex isn’t part of the deal.”

“You know that’s not what I meant. But clearly, it’s what we both want.”

She yanked down her skirt and bent to pick up her shoes, tossing her hair as she flounced away. “Speak for yourself.”

He couldn’t hide his frustration as he said, “Where are you going?”

“To bed,” she said, pausing at the hallway to cast a frosty glance over her shoulder. “
Alone
. I agreed to fake a marriage, but sex isn’t on the menu. Oh, and you can let yourself out.”

She disappeared and a moment later, the bedroom door slammed and Jake heard the unmistakable click of the lock.

Like she needed to lock him out. He’d never had to break down doors for sex and he wasn’t about to start now. He growled in frustration. She held top spot as the most stubborn; the most
irritating
woman he’d ever met. Of course, this wasn’t a new revelation.

So naturally he’d asked her to marry him. He shook his head, alarmed by his recent behavior. Imagining they could casually fake an engagement free of consequences had been nothing short of insanity. Clearly, he was losing it.

Jake rested his head on the back of the sofa and stared up at the ceiling. His plan had sounded so easy. Fake an engagement and get the big financial payoff. He’d convinced himself—and to some degree her—that their deal would be light on risk and heavy on reward, for both of them. Then again, he hadn’t counted on the real marriage twist, followed by a real divorce. But that’s what it would be now, thanks to his grandfather. And he definitely hadn’t counted on their sexual chemistry. He had assumed it was all behind them; had imagined his lingering thoughts of her had more to do with a long year spent in a war zone.

He sighed. Their deal hadn’t even started yet—no one besides his grandfather, Sam and Kate even knew of their engagement—and it was already far more complicated than he’d ever thought possible. And every time he was around her, he grew more and more confused.

Sam was right. Their deal had started to look a little like a car crash.

Chapter Ten

manda awoke to the mother of all hangovers. She pressed two fingers to each temple and uttered a soft moan as she crawled out of bed. With her eyes still half-closed, she dragged herself to the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet, where she fumbled through the rows of face cream, toothpaste and band aids, causing several items to clatter into the sink as she rifled through.

She scowled and scratched her head. Where in God’s name had she put the aspirin? A fuzzy image of George drifted back. She remembered him setting the bottle on the kitchen counter, but couldn’t recall why.

So she plodded down the hall, aggravated to have to go so far, snatched up the aspirin bottle and struggled with the childproof cap. When she finally wrestled the cap loose, she shook out two pills and chased them down with several gulps of cold water. Then she placed a hand on her stomach and tried to determine if she needed to throw up and whether, if by doing so, she’d feel better.

Well done
.
Just twelve hours after she declared her brother irresponsible, she’d gone out and gotten absolutely hammered. Nice. No wonder Rob had problems.

She needed caffeine.

Amanda shuffled to the refrigerator and pulled out a Diet Coke. She popped the top and guzzled nearly half the can as she tried to figure out what had gotten into her. She was responsible. That was her thing. She was square, uptight and sort of un-cool. She never got drunk. She hadn’t been drunk since college—in the last carefree days that had ended the night her parents died. She was always too busy worrying about life or work or her brother to let herself go in that way. But the night before, responsibility had flown the coop and she’d acted all kinds of crazy. For the second time in the past week, she wondered if she was having a nervous breakdown.

Amanda glanced down at her tank top and panties and realized she probably looked as bad as she felt. She couldn’t remember taking the time to remove last night’s makeup, which meant it was probably smeared all over her face. Hell, her false eyelashes must still be on. She didn’t have the courage to look in the mirror or the energy to find one.

Her cell buzzed.

She glanced at the display and groaned. For a brief moment, she considered ignoring it, but knew it would just delay the inevitable, so she hit the button to connect.

“Hullo,” she mumbled and then took a big swig of Diet Coke.

“You sound terrible,” Kate said. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m hung way over.” Amanda pulled out a barstool and covered her mouth to muffle a delicate belch. Then, she propped her head up with one hand.

“Since you chose to over-indulge last night, I assume the conversation with your brother didn’t go well.”

Amanda sighed. “He doesn’t have the money. It’s gone.”

A long silence followed and then Kate said, “Well then we’ll just have to find another way to pay Jake back. Sam and I could—”

“Don’t even say it.” Amanda’s tone sounded harsher than intended. “I’m not borrowing money from you guys. This isn’t your problem.” Amanda swallowed more Diet Coke and tried to determine if she needed a third aspirin.

“Why can’t you ever let anyone help?” Kate sounded annoyed.

Why did everyone keep saying that? She would ask for help if she needed it. But she didn’t. She could handle this on her own.

Instead of saying as much, Amanda changed the subject. “Also, it’s too late. I’m out of options. I agreed to marry Jake.”

“Amanda, you
can’t
!”

She pulled the phone away until Kate was done bellowing and then returned it to her ear. “Please. No yelling. My head is killing me.”

“You can’t go through with a fake marriage. You need to back out.”

“I don’t have a choice.”

“Don’t go there,” Kate scolded. “You have a choice and you know it.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You’re married to Mr. Perfect Perfington with one perfect little mini-me on the way.” Her voice trailed off as she recognized the sullen, jealous tenor of her words. But she couldn’t stop herself from adding, “Your life’s perfect.”

“My life isn’t perfect,” Kate said. “Nobody’s is.”

“Yours is pretty damned close.” She felt a stab of guilt. It wasn’t fair to make Kate feel badly just because all her dreams had come true. Amanda was happy for her; truly happy. But Amanda’s hot mess of a life situation, made Kate’s real-life fairytale pretty hard to swallow. “I’m sorry,” she sighed and pressed her forehead against the cool fridge. “I’m just hung over and cranky.” And sick to her stomach.

“It’s okay.” Kate’s southern drawl took on a gentle, nurturing tone—something Amanda didn’t get to experience too often and it soothed her prickly nerves. “You know” —Kate paused in that way she had when she considered herself about to say something profound— “daddy always says making two left turns doesn’t compensate for not turning right when you should have.”

Amanda frowned and pinched the bridge of her nose. The pressure didn’t relieve her headache or her general irritation. “Maybe it’s the wine fog, but your dad’s words of wisdom make no sense.”

“It
means
you need to do what’s right; now, not later. Say no to Jake’s deal. Figure the rest out later.”

“I can’t. I spent the money and so did my brother. I’m out of options.”

Kate heaved a great sigh which made Amanda feel like a lost cause. “How much did you drink?”

“I lost count.”

“Getting drunk won’t help.”

“Says the girl who’s seven month’s pregnant, and therefore, unable to drink,” she said. “If you weren’t pregnant, you would’ve been right beside me having sympathy cocktails and this morning you’d be in exactly the same condition as me.”

“I would’ve made you stop at two,” Kate sniffed. “You need to spend your time dreaming up a real solution to this problem,
not
drowning your sorrows.”

Amanda rolled her eyes. “I find it fascinating I’m getting the lecture when
you’re
the one who first suggested this—what did you call it?—a left turn?” She shook her head which only make it hurt worse and wished she’d let Kate’s call roll to voicemail. “I should’ve known better than to listen to you.”