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Her silence is telling.
“No one, right? You want to call Simon again? Or wait a few years and hope you meet someone better?”
She presses her lips together, and I can tell that she’s thinking. One part of her would love to tell me to pound sand, but I’m dangling the life she wants most in front of her face. If I can’t appeal to her heart, I can tug at her deep-seated desire.
Suddenly, she says, “You’re already having a baby. You don’t need me to have one, too. Move.”
I stand my ground and grab her shoulders. “I have never met what’s-her-name in my life. I did not have sex with her. I did not get her pregnant. We were at the same party at the same time, following the Super Bowl. I admit that. Maybe she decided to use that happenstance to see if she could extort money from me. I wouldn’t be the first chump a gold digger tried to con. But I hope like hell you’d believe the word of the guy who’s been your lover over the woman you’ve never met.”
She falls quiet for a long moment. “What do you want?”
“Marry me.”
“I’m not marrying anyone right now.”
I try not to take it as a rejection. She’s endured a big shock today, and I’m probably leaning on her too hard. Yeah, she’s pushing back, but I expected that. I am talking to Harlow, after all. And after everything she’s been through lately, she’s entitled to lash out in pain. I’m hearty; I can take it. But the more I talk about tying the knot, the more convinced I am that we could be good together. I could make her happy. I could make her fall in love with me in return. In fact, I want that more than anything.
But I need more time. A summer may not be enough.
Trying to talk her into it for her benefit isn’t working, so I change tactics. “Look, I could really use a wife. The network is getting itchy, and if I ‘settle down,’ it’s more likely they won’t rescind their offer. It seems like a shame to work on my speech only to find out that I might not have a position with the network after all.”
“Marry the woman who’s having your baby. That would solve your image problem.”
God, this woman is stubborn as the day is long, and yet I still find her so damn fascinating. “She’s. Not. Having. My. Baby. Get that through your thick skull. Marry me.”
“The press would almost certainly think that I left Simon for you because I was cheating on him.”
“Do you care? He was cheating on you in a big way and everyone knows it.”
She lets out a long sigh. “No. I don’t care about appearances. But you should.”
“Why don’t we make a deal? You marry me for a year. I’ll give you a baby. On our first anniversary, we can reevaluate. If you want to stay, we’ll continue on as we were. If you want out then, I’ll give you five million dollars and custody, as long as I get visitation.”
It’s a huge gamble, and I could end up the worst loser. But this buys me at least twelve months with Harlow, maybe even a lifetime. A child would guarantee that we’ll end up parenting together, so even if we divorce—over my cold, dead body—we’ll always have our son or daughter in common.
Yeah, it sucks. I’m out of choices in my “better options” bucket.
“I don’t want your money.”
Another thing I like about her. She can be blunt and stubborn, sure. But she isn’t greedy. She’s so confident in her ability to make her own money that she doesn’t want mine. “It’s on the table if you change your mind.”
She cocks a hand on her hip. “You could marry just about any woman you want. I have no illusions that I’m easy to deal with. Why me?”
If I tell her that I’m pretty sure I’m in love with her, she’ll run screaming in the opposite direction. I have to play this cool. “We make sense. We get along. We have great sex. We share common values. I want to get on with the next stage of my life. You can help me with my speech, and the press already thinks we’re an item. Introducing another woman now might send the network into a tizzy, not to mention my fans. Telling everyone that we’re getting married suddenly turns you from the sordid, under-the-blankets fling to a legitimate staple in my life.”
“What’s in it for me, besides awesome sex? You can’t guarantee me a baby. Neither of us knows for certain I will—or can—get pregnant.”
“Any reason to think you can’t?”
She shakes her head. “No. I have this friend who’s been married for two years, and they’re trying so hard…to no avail. Just saying it’s not something we can predict.”
“Fair enough. We’ll try the fertility bit. If it doesn’t work, I can still offer you some consolation: I know people in high places. I can open doors for you. Hell, I can introduce you to dozens of other players who probably need your help, too. If you want to jumpstart your career, I could do that for you in a major way.”
She’s silent for a long moment, like she’s actually considering my impulsive proposal. But this is right. I’m sure. I know it in my bones. “Any catch?”
I pause, consider. “Two conditions: First, you have to put your all into making us work while we’re together. No checking out because you think we’re temporary.”
“I wouldn’t be a bitch for the sake of being a bitch. We’d both have to live with that, and it’s too much effort.”
