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“A meeting where I get fired.” I sniffle against his bare chest. “Oh yes—Ishould look so presentable for it. What color do you think will pair best with shame?”
Derek takes my jaw in his hand and tilts it up so I have to look in his eyes. There’s a new heat there, flaming in the black centers. It looks nothing like hate. “You’re not getting fired—and if you think for one damn second I’m going to let you get your fingers cut cleaning up my mess, you don’t know me at all. Lift your arms.”
I’m so lost and confused and scared of my future that I don’t even fight him. I raise my arms above my head. Derek closes his eyes before peeling off my shirt. Goosebumps break over my chest as he reaches around and unclasps my bra. Next he shucks my pants and underwear until all scraps of clothing are like fallen leaves, heaping on the floor at the end of a season. I’m standing completely naked in front of him, but he never opens his eyes.I wish he would.Clearly this is Distraught Nora thinking these inappropriate thoughts, and I should be grateful that Derek doesn’t share them.
His hand engulfs my bare shoulder blade as he guides me to the shower.
Once the curtain is closed, I step under the warm stream of water and close my eyes, feeling the last of my mascara melt down my face.Pitiful. You’re absolutely pitiful, Nora.
It’s quiet for only a minute.
“I think we should stay married,” Derek says from the other side of the curtain, making me startle so much that I nearly slip and fall in the tub. Thankfully there’s a handy little shower rail I grab hold of.
“Are you still drunk?” I say over the water. “You’d have to be to suggest something like that.”
“I’m perfectly sober.”
“Okay then, suffering from some sort of alcohol poisoning to thebrain. Call a doctor. Because a few days ago you told me you don’t even want to be friends with me—and now you’re suggesting we stay married?” I squirt some shampoo into my hand and it makes a gross noise. “That was the shampoo bottle, by the way.”
“Mm-hm.”
I gasp and clutch the shower curtain to my chest, peeking around it. “How dare you not believe me at an overwhelming time like this?” Should I laugh or cry? I don’t know anymore.
He’s grinning and leaning his half-naked body against the wall, arms folded—Casanova in the flesh. His eyes are not closed now, and they rake over my wet hair and exposed collarbones. Suddenly, I’ve never felt more naked in my life.
I let the curtain fall closed again and shield myself from whatever look he’s giving me.
“Hear me out,” Derek says, his voice sounding a little hoarse. “Most likely your agency thinks this was all a drunken mistake that we’re going to annul as quickly as possible.”
“And they would win a million dollars because that is correct.”
“Okay, but what if we convince them that it’s real. That…we’re staying together and purposely got married?”
I pause with my hands in my hair full of suds. “Why would we do that?”
“Because I have a feeling that they don’t want a scandal on their hands just as much as you don’t. So if we can let them know it’s not a scandal and not something we’re ashamed of—maybe they’ll let you keep your job.”
Wait. Maybe he’s not wrong. Maybe this is exactly the kind of plan Nicole was telling me to make.
I don’t even care how I look, I peek around the curtain again because I need to see Derek’s face. “Why would you even consider doing that?”
His smile curves softly and when he shrugs, the combination is almost sad. “Because it’s for you.”
I don’t know what to say to that. Or even what to make of it, for that matter.
“But you hate me now,” I say quietly, and a bubble stream streaks down my face.
Derek shoves away from the wall and moves to me. He wipes the bubbles back from my face and sinks his fingers into my soapy hair. “Hateis not the word for it, remember? It was never hate.”
No, I don’t remember because all thoughts have fled from the way he’s looking at me. There’s steam behind me, a naked male torso in front of me, and cold air brushing over the exposed portion of my chest and neck. It’s a swirl of sensations—all of them mixing to be something dangerous. Something unforgettable.
And for one split second, Derek’s eyes drop to my mouth—they hold there long enough for me to wish it were his mouth on my lips instead of his eyes. But then he removes his hand from my hair and steps away, drying his hand on a towel. I can’t look away; my body is tuned to his movements, feeling that something is coming.
He gives me a quick hesitant glance before he reaches into his back pocket to pull out his wallet.
A pang of disappointment hits me. “Are you changing your mind and you’re going to pay me off? You should know, pal, I’m very expensive.”
He only smirks and removes a little piece of paper. It’s yellowed, and the creases are so well worn it looks like it could tear into halves from a light breeze. I know what it is without even having to open it, but I reach my arm out from behind the curtain and take it from him anyway. My fingers itch for the memory. To be taken back to the time when I wrote this.
