Fiona Brand - His Not-So-Blushing Bride - Marriage with Benefits / Improperly Wed / A Breathless Bride

“No,” he said.

“No?” Cia did a fair impression of a big-mouth bass. “As in you’re turning me down?”

“As in I don’t kowtow to the X chromosome. You want to do business, we’ll do it in my office tomorrow morning. Nine sharp.” Giving him plenty of time to do a little reconnaissance so he could meet his future wife-slash-business-partner toe-to-toe. Wheelers knew how to broker a deal. “With lawyers, without alcohol, and darlin’, don’t be late.”

Her face went blank, and the temperature dropped at least five degrees. She nodded once. “Done.”

Hurricane Cia swept toward the door, and he had no doubt the reprieve meant he stood in the eye of the storm. No problem. He’d load up on storm-proof, double-plated armor in a heartbeat if it meant solving all his problems in one shot.

Looked like he was going to make an effort after all.

Cia had been cooling her heels a full twenty minutes when Lucas strolled into the offices of Wheeler Family Partners LLC at 9:08 a.m. the next morning. Renewed anger ate through another layer of her stomach lining. She’d had to ask Courtney to cover her responsibilities at the shelter to attend this meeting, and the man didn’t have the courtesy to be on time. He’d pay for that. Especially after he’d ordered her not to be late in that high-handed, deceptively lazy drawl.

“Miz Allende.” Lucas nodded as if he often found women perched on the edge of the leather couch in the waiting area. He leaned on the granite slab covering the receptionist’s desk. “Helena, can you please reschedule the nine-thirty appraisal and send Kramer the revised offer I emailed you? Give me five minutes to find some coffee, and then show Miz Allen de to my office.”

The receptionist smiled and murmured her agreement. Her eyes widened as Cia stalked up behind Lucas. The other women often found on Lucas’s couch must bow to the master’s bidding.

Cia cleared her throat, loudly, until he faced her. “I’ve got other activities on my agenda today, Wheeler. Skip the coffee, and I’ll follow you to your office.”

Inwardly, she cringed. Not only were her feminine wiles out of practice, she’d let Lucas get to her. She couldn’t keep being so witchy or he’d run screaming in the other direction long before realizing the benefits of marrying her.

If only he’d stop being so…Lucas for five minutes, maybe she’d be able to bite her tongue.

Lucas didn’t call her on it, though. He just stared at her, evaluating. Shadows under his lower lashes deepened the blue of his irises, and fatigue pulled at the sculpted lines of his face. Her chin came up. Carousing till all hours, likely. He probably always looked like that after rolling out of some socialite’s bed, where he’d done everything but sleep.

Not her problem. Not yet anyway.

Without a blink, he said, “Sure thing, darlin’. Helena, would you mind?”

He smiled gratefully at the receptionist’s nod and ushered Cia down a hall lined with a lush Turkish rug over espresso hardwood. Pricey artwork hung on the sage walls and lent to the moneyed ambience of the office. Wheeler Family Partners had prestige and stature among the elite property companies in Texas, and she prayed Lucas cared as much as she assumed he did about preserving his heritage, or her divorce deal would be dead on arrival.

She had to convince him to say yes. Her mother’s tireless efforts on behalf of abused women must reach fruition.

They passed two closed doors, each with name plaques reading Robert Wheeler and Andrew Wheeler, respectively. The next door was open. Lucas’s office reflected the style of the exterior. Except he filled his space with a raw, masculine vibe the second he crossed the threshold behind her, crowding her and forcing her to retreat.

Flustered, she dropped into the wingback chair closest to the desk. She had to find her footing here. But how did one go about bloodlessly discussing marriage with a man who collected beautiful women the way the shore amassed seashells?

Like it’s a business arrangement , she reminded herself. Nothing to get worked up over. “My lawyer wasn’t able to clear her morning schedule. I trust we can involve her once we come to a suitable understanding.”

Actually, she hadn’t called her lawyer, who was neck-deep in a custody case for one of the women at the shelter. There was no way she could’ve bothered Gretchen with a proposal Lucas hadn’t even agreed to yet.

“Lawyers are busy people,” Lucas acknowledged and slid into the matching chair next to Cia instead of manning the larger, more imposing one behind the desk.

She set her back teeth together. What kind of reverse power tactic was that supposed to be?

He fished a leather bag from the floor and pulled a sheaf of papers from the center pocket, which he then handed to her. The receptionist silently entered with steaming coffee, filling the room with its rich, roasted smell. She passed it off and exited.

With a look of pure rapture stealing over his face, Lucas cupped the mug and inhaled, then drank deeply with a small moan. “Perfect. Do you think I could pay her to come live with me and make my coffee every morning?”

Cia snorted to clear the weird little tremor in her throat. Did he do everything with abandon, as if the simplest things could evoke such pleasure? “She’d probably do it for free. You know, if there were other benefits.”

Shut up. Why did the mere presence of this man turn her stupid?

“You think?” Lucas swept Cia with a once-over. “Would you?”

“Ha. The other benefits couldn’t possibly be good enough to warrant making coffee. You’re on your own.” Her eyes trailed over the sheaf of papers in her hand. “What’s all this?”

“A draft of a prenuptial agreement. Also, a contract laying out the terms of our marriage and divorce agreement.” Lucas scrutinized her over the rim of his mug as he took a sip. He swallowed, clearly savoring the sensation of coffee sliding down his throat. “And one for the sale of Manzanares.”

Taken aback, she laughed and thumbed through the papers. “No, really. What is it?”

He sat back in his chair without a word as she skimmed through the documents. He wasn’t kidding—legalese covered page after page.

Now completely off balance, she cocked a brow. “Are you sleeping with your lawyer? Is that how you got all this put together so fast?”

“Sure enough,” he said, easily. “Can’t put nothing past you.”

Great. So he’d no doubt ensured all the terms favored him. Why hadn’t she had her own documents drawn up last week? She’d had plenty of time, and it threw her for a loop to be so unprepared. Business was supposed to be her niche. It was the only real skill she brought to the equation when continuing her mother’s work. If passion was all it took, her mother would have single-handedly saved every woman in danger.

“Run down the highlights for me, Wheeler. What sort of lovely surprises do you have buried in here?”

It dawned on her then. He was on board. She’d talked Lucas Wheeler into marrying her. Elation flooded her stomach so hard, it cramped. Take that, Abuelo. Her grandfather thought he was so smart, locking up the money, and she’d figured out a way to get it after all.

“No surprises. We each retain ownership of our assets. It’s all there in black and white.” His phone beeped, but he ignored it in favor of giving her his full attention. “You were up front with me, and I appreciate that. No better way to start a partnership than with honesty. So I’ll direct your attention to page fifteen.”

He waited until she found the page, which took longer than it should have, but she had this spiky, keen awareness of him watching her, and it stiffened her fingers. “Fifteen. Got it.”