A Wedding to Remember: Switched at Marriage Part 1 (5 page)

I was hit with a wave of panic—I had no idea even which floor Justin lived on.

The driver mistook my worried expression for fear of the news crew. "Don't worry, miss. We'll get you safely to the penthouse. Stay here. I'll phone for help." He texted someone.

A minute later, a security guard appeared and elbowed his way through the crowed. As the guard opened my door, the driver wished me luck.

And then I was out in the middle of a mob of reporters shouting questions at me and snapping pictures. Until half an hour ago, Justin had been the most eligible nerd in Seattle. Notoriously private about his personal life. A workaholic who was seldom seen with a girl on his arm. Justin getting married was big news.

The security guard elbowed his way through the crowd while I kept my head down. He showed me to an elevator. When the doors opened, he typed in a code and pressed the button for the penthouse. "Have a good day, ma'am."

I barely had time to thank him before the doors closed and I was by myself. On the ride up, I felt totally dazed, like life had somehow pulled a fast one on me and was laughing about it.

When the doors pinged open on the top floor, the elevator opened directly into the penthouse.

Justin was waiting for me. "Welcome home, honey."

K
ayla

A dog bounded up to me. A Pomsky who was just the most adorable puppy I'd ever seen. She barked happily at me and jumped up on my legs. "Some watchdog you've got."

"Data! Down." Justin snapped his fingers at the dog as I set my flowers on a nearby table, leaned down, and scooped the puppy up. The dog ignored him.

I held her up and cuddled her to my face and let her lick it. "Data? What kind of name is that for such a precious puppy?" I cooed to the dog. "Boy or girl?"

"Girl." Justin had taken his jacket off and was now in a T-shirt and jeans. The T-shirt showed off a pair of sculpted biceps and broad shoulders that belonged on an Abercrombie model.

Crap, when had he gotten those? Maybe I wasn't as much of a liar as I thought. I had to tear my gaze away from his muscles and stop imagining the rest of the body beneath that T-shirt. If his abs were anything like his arms, he might actually be my type. Assuming he would treat me like crap, of course.

This is Justin, your husband of convenience
, I reminded myself. Nothing about this was real. The marriage was made up, and the chemistry, or lack of, didn't matter.

Still cradling the happy puppy, I looked past Justin, staring at the penthouse. It was a total wall of windows with breathtaking views from every side—of the Olympic Mountains, the city, the Cascades to the east. It was modern and sparsely furnished in a chic, tasteful way, obviously by an interior designer. The place was unlike the Justin I remembered.

I pointed toward the street and scratched Data behind the ears. "Have you seen the mob of reporters down there?"

"Seen and breached. Come on, girl." He took the puppy from me. "I had to get through them, too."

I picked up my flowers. "You mean there isn't a secret, private entrance to this place? How disappointing."

His smile was achingly cute. Like his puppy. "Come on in and make yourself at home."

I ignored his reference to home and collapsed on a deep leather sofa with my flowers beside me. "Crap, this is where you live?"

"
We
live." He sat down next to me, his leg bouncing nervously as he scratched Data's chin. "
One
of the places. I'm still trying to get used to it, too. I only moved in a few months ago."

I looked around again, thinking,
This place is fabulously luxurious. My apartment will look like a dump after this. How will I ever go back to real life in a year?

The space was not homey, but it made up for its lack of warmth by being breathtaking. Like living in a nest high above everything, or on an open prairie. Sitting in the middle of all those windows, I felt both exposed and like I was flying. Terrified and exhilarated at the same time. "How many places do you have?"

"Five? Six?" He frowned as if he was trying to remember. "Some are just investments."

I put my head in my hands. "We have to come clean. This isn't going to work. My family is going to kill me and I've already made a mistake that could give us away."

"What?" He looked so adorable when he was worried.

I couldn't blame him. "I asked the driver where you lived. I mean, I had no idea. Shouldn't a wife know where her husband lives? Where
she
lives?"

Justin let out a loud breath and laughed like he was letting his relief spill out. "That's nothing. Why would you know your address by heart so soon? We had a whirlwind courtship. Like, two hours after we two college friends got together for drinks and discovered our undying love." He paused. "Anyway, you won't make that mistake again."

I raised my head and stared at him. "Until you send me to one of your other five or possibly six homes. Maybe it's even seven."

He laughed again. "I'll write them down for you."

The living area was one open space with a kitchen on one end. Justin nodded to it. "Can I get you something? I'm well stocked. I have everything."

"A new life. Can you get me that?" I leaned my head back against the leather that was as soft as warm butter. "We need to talk. And fast. Before my parents disown me."

Data yipped like she agreed. I was going to have to rename the dog.

"No problem if they do. I'll buy you some new ones." He winked and plopped onto the sofa next to me so close that our thighs and arms brushed. Husband close. His biceps were every bit as hard as they looked as they brushed my arm and Data licked it. His thighs were pretty solid, too. I had to restrain myself from resting my hand on them. What had gotten into me? Rebound syndrome. Had to be.

I studied him, thinking his face might be cute beneath that pile of hair he called a beard. That maybe I hadn't lied to the girl at the cheesecake window about that, either. I hoped he was cute, because his body was hot. And I was fighting my reaction to it. "Justin, I didn't bargain for this. I think we should come clean—"

He set the puppy on the floor, grabbed my hand in his warm, strong one, and squeezed. I was surprised by how comforting it felt. "Look. I'm sorry your hand was forced. When I find out who leaked this, I'll make their life hell. You can still back out. I'll understand."

Yeah, but what kind of a bitch would that make me? I shook my head and pulled the marriage contract from my tote bag. "Do you have a pen?"

"What?"

"Never mind." I dug in my bag for one. "Ah, here it is. I think it's one I actually pilfered from your lawyer's office." I whipped it out and slapped the papers on the coffee table.

"Kay, you don't have to—"

I studied him. He was dead serious. Kind. Considerate. With a little fixing up…

Okay I was still being shallow. But as I stared at him, I saw a flicker of potential. I saw a project. A fixer upper. A way to help him. Beautiful exteriors weren't all they were cracked up to be. Take Eric, for example. But a bit of sex appeal was no small thing to take for granted, either. And I could give it to him. I knew I could. And then there was that fact that I was not hanging out with that squirrel on his face that he called a beard. Not. Doing. It.

"I have a condition." The words were out before I even thought about them.

His Adam's apple bobbed. He stared at me. "Sorry to hear it. I didn't know you were ill."

I'd forgotten just what a smartass Justin was. He was, after all, my cousin's good friend. "Not that kind of condition, wiseass. A stipulation before I sign. If we're going to sell this, you're going to have to look the part of my husband. You're going to have to let me make you over."

He paled. I swore he paled. Though it was hard to tell beneath all that hair. There could have been a decent-looking human being lurking in the depths. There could equally have been a weak chin. I didn't remember Justin having a cut-glass-square jaw. But I didn't remember any weakness of chin, either.

I set the pen down.

"I don't give a damn about how I look. Why would I change?"

I slid my jacket off and unbuttoned one, two, three buttons of my blouse, peeling it back to reveal my cleavage. "Is it hot in here? It feels hot to me."

I slid closer to him, flirting, making him uncomfortable. Giving him a peek at the tops of my breasts. Shameless, over-the-top flirting. "Because you supposedly love me. Truly. Madly. Deeply. And you will do anything for me. Anything. Is losing the beard a deal breaker?" I had to see how invested he was.

"No." He swallowed. Hard. "But I keep the beard."

I shook my head and ran my fingernail gently down his arm. "The beard goes or the deal's off."

"You'd turn down ten million dollars over a beard?"

I leaned into him and whispered in his ear with a gust of breath meant to tantalize him. To feel as if I was blowing in his ear. "Yes. You have to meet me halfway. I could turn it around—you'd turn down the chance to save your business over a stupid beard that you could grow back in a year?"

"I'll trim the beard," he said.

"Oh, you think you have negotiating power now, do you?" I laughed. "I'm not marrying a mountain man. Why don't we start with this? I trim the beard and we keep the dialogue open."

"Done."

I picked the pen up and signed the papers with a flourish, flashing a seductive look at Justin when I was done. "I hope I signed and initialed all the right places. If not, Harry can point them out to me tomorrow."

"He's good at that." He was staring at me with those intense brown eyes of his. They were just regular brown, deep brown. But nicely shaped and shining with an intriguing mix of intelligence and desire.

I couldn't help myself. I smiled at him. "Epic prank?"

"And grand adventure. Smart decision." He nodded toward the paperwork. "Being my wife qualifies you to eat at the best restaurants. Buy the most expensive clothes and shit. Get yourself some jewelry. Hang out at charity events and meet the movers and shakers of the city. Build connections."

"Sounds like I'm eligible if someone ever makes
Real Housewives of Puget Sound
." I paused. "I'm not sure I want any of that. I like my life."

What was I saying? My life was pretty much crap.

"I mean, I like that part of my life that's out of the public eye."

He stared at me, holding my gaze, as he put his arm on the back of the sofa, almost, but not quite, around me. Like a teenage guy making a move at the movie theater. "I probably should have hammered this point home before you signed. But I'm a hardened businessman used to getting what he wants. We'll have to make this look real."

He was obviously teasing.

I put on my business expression, too. And buttoned a button. "Of course."

He paused. "And I have staff. Who are very efficient and professional. Exceptionally nice. And who talk."

I ruined my narrow-eyed business glare by looking around and laughing. "Imaginary servants?"

"I gave Magda, my housekeeper and cook, and Ada, the part-time maid, the afternoon off so we could have some privacy," he said. "Ophelia, my personal assistant, is on the job right now awaiting my orders and doing damage control. She's usually here during the day if I am."

Arranging for our privacy was smart of him. Not to mention necessary.

"And they won't question why I wasn't here the past couple of nights? Or why we weren't off on a fabulous honeymoon?"

"Not a problem. If we tell them anything at all, we tell them the truth—you had food poisoning and wanted to spend the first few nights at your place. You were more comfortable there until you recovered. And that explains the lack of honeymoon, too."

I studied him. "Do you have an answer for everything?"

"I try."

I scrunched my nose, thinking and back in business mode. "I guess that same excuse might hold water for Carl, my building manager. Though he's going to be curious about why I was served and for what."

"Your private business is none of his."

Data ran to her dog bed and came back with a rope-knot toy. She held it up for Justin to grab and play tug-o-war with her. Tug-o-war, that was exactly how I felt, like I was being tugged in two directions.

"You're right," I said.

This new Justin had more confidence than the old, young one. He took the rope and gently tugged while the adorable little thing growled and pulled, its tiny teeth sunk into the rope knot.

I studied Justin as he played with the dog, a look of total joy and affection on his face. To be honest, I felt a little jealous. Shouldn't a new bridegroom feel at least as much love for his new bride as his dog? Never mind. It didn't matter.

"No offense, but you are
so
not my type, Justin."

"You mean I have a brain." He looked up from the playfully growling puppy. "I'm not a dumbass jock?" His eyes were dancing and he looked stupidly hopeful.

Or maybe that was just my romantic imagination. "Yeah, that." I ran my gaze up and down him. "I like my men stupid and pretty."

"I'm not pretty?" He spoke to the dog. "She doesn't think I'm pretty. But you do, don't you, girl? You love all this hair on my face."

"It probably reminds her of her mother."

"Ouch," he said, glancing up at me.

I was merciless. "You walked into that one."

"Do I get points for having a good personality? Or am I short on that, too?" He was teasing. But he sounded almost hurt.

"Intelligence is sexy, Jus. If used properly. But don't discount physical chemistry. You could do better, looks-wise. Your sense of fashion is horrible. It's almost like you're trying to make yourself less attractive. You have no idea how to dress to play to your strengths. For a guy who owns an online retailer known for being chic—"

"I'm just the programmer," he said. "I dress like one. This"—he motioned to his clothes—"is my uniform. The people at Flashionista keep me pretty much out of sight. Riggins is the face of the company and handles operations."

"That's not smart business, Justin. You want to be the frontman, too." I didn't let him off the hook. "Do you ever wear
anything
other than old T-shirts and jeans?"

"I add a jacket when I need to get dressed up for something serious, like a possible divorce, or to impress someone." He winked. "We'll have to work a little harder to sell things." It was almost like he was talking to himself as he thought out loud. "You'll have to move in immediately. I'll give you a drawer."

I raised one eyebrow and looked at him like he was raving crazy. "I'll need more than
one
. A
ton
more than one."

He grinned, and I realized he'd been teasing me again.

I wasn't done negotiating. If I was going to tear up my life, I was going for minimal damage. "I keep my apartment."

Justin had stopped playing with her. The dog barked to get his attention.

He leaned down and petted her. "Absolutely. You can keep all your old life."

"Even my last name?" I studied his bent head intently, watching for any sign of weakness. "There isn't much point in changing it for a short-term marriage."

"Keep it," he said, almost too quickly. "We'll say it's for professional purposes. So you can maintain your own identity separate from my dazzling billionaire persona that could easily overwhelm it."