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"I have no intention of permitting you to stash away a little nest egg of your own," he said. "I'm sure you see the need for that."
The coldly vicious explanation combined with his obvious intention to treat her like a well-paid but little-trusted concubine enraged her. She thought back to that moment in the hall when she'd imagined herself still wanting him and she wanted to laugh but she'd get that chance, soon enough. She could wait.
"Oh, yes," she said, "yes, I do."
Faith continued reading. On page three, the agreement detailed what he would expect of her. She would travel with him. Act as his hostess. Organize his household staff.
She looked up. "You left out the details of how you want me to mother my son," she said politely. "You know, supervise his baths, his bedtime, check his homework ... or are you willing to trust my judgment?"
Cole smiled. "I'm willing to grant you your maternal instincts."
"Thank you," she said, even more politely, and returned to the document.
On page four, she discovered what she would get if she ever ended the marriage.
Nothing.
And what she would get if she ever had an extra-marital affair.
Nothing, again.
And how Cole would have her declared unfit to raise Peter if she did either.
"What if you choose to end the marriage?" she said, lifting her head and looking at him.
"I won't."
"Or if you have an affair?"
"I won't do that, either."
"I see. Am I expected to take that on face value?"
"Yes," he said, without hesitation, "you are. Perhaps you've forgotten the reason for our marriage, Faith. I intend to provide a moral, stable home for Peter. I couldn't do that, could I, if I divorced you? Or if I slept around."
"No. No, you couldn't. Sorry. I guess I forgot what a great moralist you are, Cole. Silly of me."
A muscle knotted in his jaw. He watched her as she continued reading the agreement. He kept waiting for her to look up and ask if he really thought he could get away with this, but she didn't. When she'd finished, she put the papers on the table and looked at him.
"Fine."
He tried not to let his surprise show. "You don't want to discuss anything you've read?"
"No."
"Did you understand it all?"
"Oh, I think so." Faith folded her hands in her lap. "You've made it clear that you're prepared to buy my fidelity, that you have no respect for me, and that you expect me to find it impossible to behave honorably. Would you say that about sums it up?"
She smiled, though he thought he saw a flash of pain in her eyes. For a second, he felt a fist close around his heart but then he remembered her lies, the way she'd used him and Ted, and the feeling was gone.
"Yes," he said coldly, "it does. Then, you'll sign?" "I will."
"Good." He reached for the phone. "I've arranged for a notary and two witnesses."
"Not yet."
Cole sat back. Here it came. What would it be? Delicate tears? Heart-wrenching sobs? Her face lifted so that he'd see the glint of despair in her eyes? Or would she be more direct, give him a look that promised everything a man could possibly want if he showed her just a little bit of generosity?
He felt his body quicken.
He might, if she played her part right. If she moved onto the sofa beside him, if she wound those slender arms around his neck...
"Cole?"
He blinked. Faith had taken a document from her shoulder bag. A legal document, judging by the dimensions of the single sheet of paper she held out to him.
"What is that?" he said.
She smiled, but he could see the piece of paper shaking in her outstretched hand. "It's my prenuptial agreement," she said softly.
Of course. He should have expected as much. She had more than a sexy body, she had a good mind. Even in the days when he'd done his thinking with his hormones instead of his head, he'd admired her intelligence. Okay. He took the paper from her. Why not read whatever she'd come up with? A good laugh might restore his equilibrium. That he'd even contemplated showing her any charity proved that he'd come close to losing it.
"Your prenup," he said. "You went to see Jergen?"
"No. What would be the point? You probably own him."
She got to her feet, tucked her hands into the pockets of the white cotton dress. The simple action made her breasts press lightly against the thin fabric. He could see the pebbling of her nipples. He knew it wasn't his presence that caused it he had the air conditioning on and the room was cool-but the sight sent a message straight into his groin. He forced his eyes down but that was a mistake. Now he was looking at a long expanse of tanned legs and trim ankles shown to their best in slender-heeled sandals with straps that looked as if they were made of gossamer.
