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“Here’s how I see it,” Madelyn continued. “I’ve met your darling Aria. You’ll need an extra pair of hands to help with your niece. She’s a spirited child.”
He sighed. “I can’t disagree with you on that.”
“And you require time to focus on your music. Lucky for you, Harper seems to be a godsend. You’ve married an accomplished pianist. She majored in music in college and overcame quite a bit to earn her degree. On the childcare front, Phoebe, Oscar, and Sebastian are fond of her. I’m sure Aria will warm up to her aunt.”
He stared at the fluorescent lights. “Maybe on paper we’re legit, but our marriage isn’t real.”
“Then we’ll pretend it’s real.”
He startled and turned to find Harper. With determination flashing in her eyes, she stared him down.
When had she joined them? And how much had she heard?
She handed him the contract and a pen. “Sign it, heartthrob. You and your wife are about to become reality TV stars.”
She was okay with this?
“You want to stay married to me to compete in a reality show baking contest?” he asked as his phone buzzed. He ignored it. It was probably the guys, and there was no way he was reaching for his cell with Harper standing before him like she was ready to take on the world. If he checked his phone now, he’d bet everything he had she’d snatch it from his grasp and toss it in a vat of cupcake icing.
He could tell from the set of her jaw that she meant business. He’d seen that look when he’d intervened with the handsy guy on the dance floor.
She’d gone into badass Harper mode, and shit was about to get real.
She flicked a lock of hair over her shoulder, and her hazel eyes flashed with dogged determination. “Well?” she bit out.
“Well, what?”
“Did I not make myself clear when I handed you the pen and the contract and said sign it?”
“You understand that means we’ll have to live together and you’ll essentially be Aria’s nanny, right? That’s the situation.” He needed to be crystal clear that she understood what she’d agreed to do.
She barked a little laugh. “I’m not your nanny, but I can help you with Aria if it means you’ll agree to do the contest.”
His phone buzzed again. The guys would have to wait.
He studied his wife. He couldn’t get a read on her. Something else was going on. “I figured you’d hate the idea.”
“I did until I read the contract. But I do need a little more information.” She snapped her fingers. “Hey, Mr. Suit, how quickly could the fifty K get deposited into my account after we win?”
“Ifyou win?” the man parried.
“When we win,” she lobbed back.
Fifty thousand dollars?
He looked between his wife and the lawyer. “What fifty thousand dollars are you talking about?”
Harper pointed to the lawyer. “Break it down, Mr. Suit.”
The flummoxed lawyer shot a nervous glance Harper’s way. He understood the man’s apprehension. A bossy Harper could be damned intimidating. But truth be told, it was hot as hell to watch the woman bark orders.
“The cash payout is built into the contract for the winning team,” the attorney explained. “Each of the winning participants gets fifty thousand dollars. Most celebrities quietly donate the funds to a cause.”
“Here’s the thing,” Harper said, excitement building in her voice. “I’m not most celebrities. I’m not even a real celebrity, but I sure have a cause. Let’s talk dates. I need to know the exact date the winning team will get their cash prize. I didn’t see that info in the contract.”
The attorney scratched his head. “I believe the payment will be made within hours of the final challenge.”
“Within hours,” Harper exclaimed. “Okay, final question, suit, and this one’s important. Will the final challenge be on or before October fifteenth?”
