The Ashtons - Cole, Abigail & Megan

have been more than happy to pay. But she’d surprised him and that didn’t happen often. Intrigued, he studied the woman he was about to marry and wondered how many other surprises she had in store for him.
    “So it’s a deal?” she asked, walking closer and holding out her right hand.
    He looked down at her slim white palm, then lifted his gaze to hers. “Not quite yet. I’ve a condition of my own.”
    “Which is?”
    “If we’re going to stay married for a year,” he said, “and neither one of us will be…‘dating’ anyone else, then it will be a real marriage.”
    “Meaning?” She swallowed. Hard.
    “I think you know what I mean,” he said, then reached out and took her hand in both of his. Her skinwas smooth, soft and icy with nerves. “When I make a deal, I don’t cheat—”
    “Neither do I,” she said quickly.
    “Good. But I’m not going to live a year without sex, either.”
    “Um…” She tried to slip her hand from his, but he only held on tighter. Megan had lived the last year without sex and she hadn’t exactly withered up and died—but she had a feeling a man like Simon Pearce wasn’t used to going without female company for longer than a few days at a stretch. And, if she were going to be honest here, at least inwardly, she could admit that being celibate wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.
    Scowling then, she tipped her chin up and met his gaze squarely. “I guess that’s reasonable. Okay then, shall we say, once a month?”
    He laughed. “Twice a day.”
    Her eyebrows shot straight up. “What’re you, a rabbit?”
    He smiled and told himself that a year with this woman was going to be way more interesting than marriage to Stephanie would have been. Never once in the several months he’d known her had Stephanie surprised him. Or made him want to laugh. Megan, though, was a different story altogether. Certainly he’d known she’d never go for sex twice a day. But a smart negotiator started high.
    “You have a problem with twice a day, then?”
    She nodded. “You could say so. How about once every three weeks?”
    He shook his head and rubbed his thumb across the back of her hand. “Once a day.”
    She blew out a breath and a stray lock of blond hair ruffled slightly, then drooped down to lie alongside her cheek. Narrowing her eyes at him, she offered, “Once every two weeks.”
    “Every other day.”
    She scowled at him. “You know, I could probably think better if you’d let go of my hand.”
    “I like your hand.”
    “You’re an interesting man, Mr. Pearce.”
    “Thank you. And it’s Simon.”
    “Fine. Simon. Once a week.”
    He hadn’t enjoyed a negotiation so much in years. He could see the wheels in her brain working and told himself that this emergency marriage might be more entertaining than he had a right to expect. “Three times a week.”
    “Two.”
    “Done.”
    “Oh, boy.” She cleared her throat, nodded jerkily, then snatched her hand free of his grasp.
    He didn’t want to think about why his fingertips suddenly itched to touch her again. About why his hand felt empty without hers in it.
    “One more thing,” she said and had his attention again.
    “Which is…?”
    She reached up and tucked that stray lock of hair behind her right ear, and for the first time, Simon noticed the flash of small diamond-stud earrings.
    “The, uh, wedding night,” she said, her voice starting out soft and picking up strength as she continued. “You’re not expecting it to start tonight, right?”
    The purely male part of him wanted exactly that. He wanted to feel her skin beneath his hands. He wanted to peel her out of her very attractive but sensible black skirt and white silk blouse. Desire boiled within, sudden and nearly overwhelming and it was that realization more than anything that had him reassuring her. He wasn’t a man to be led by his hormones.
    “Why don’t we take a little time to get to know each other?”
    She smiled and he read mischief in her eyes as she asked, “Say, six months?”
    “Is this going to be another negotiation?” he asked. “Because if it is, you’re starting high.”
    “I learn fast.”
    He nodded, amused in spite of himself. “How about a week?”
    She hesitated.
    “One week,” he repeated.
    She tipped her head up to meet his gaze directly. She thought about it for a long minute, then slowly nodded. “One week.”
    Her grass-green eyes glittered and the pulse at the base of her throat pounded. When