“Is that part of the bet?” she asked, sounding as breathless as if she’d just climbed to the top of some distant mountain and then jogged back to Harbor City. “Six dates and nothing else?”

No kissing. No touching. No sex. No waking up the next morning with his hard cock pressed against her ass. Just a nice, normal, completely platonic, temporary alliance of the marital variety.

“Nothing else—except for my mansplainer makeover.” His jaw tightened and his gaze dropped to her mouth. “When I do what you say.”

Did his voice get a little bit of a growl in it when he mentioned makeover? It had to be her imagination, her writer brain putting that lust in his eye, the knowing grin on his lips, and the cocky, almost asking for trouble vibe in his stance.

Michelle Finch, stop right there. He is a puppy. Focus.

Trying to regain her equilibrium, she took a step back and smoothed any expression from her face, forcing it into a neutrality she definitely did not feel inside. “We can start that after the wedding.”

“Whatever you say.” He winked at her and opened her front door but didn’t walk through. “I ordered you lunch from the deli around the corner. It should be delivered here any minute.”

“Why would you do that?” she asked, too shocked to self-censor or go with the more polite thank-you.

“I overheard you saying the only food you had was a cabinet full of Twizzlers.”

Everything she and Karmel had said about him ran at triple speed through her head. Embarrassment rushed up from her toes in a hot whoosh. “Is that all you heard?”

He grinned at her, his dimples in both cheeks going deep. “Not even close. And just for the record, I think older women are sexy as hell.”

And then he turned and was gone, but the hot tension low in her belly and palpable sense of anticipation remained.

Her soon-to-be husband was the last man she should be thinking about naked. And yet, here she was wondering if she had enough time to get off before her lunch arrived.

Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

Nash

December 2nd…

Some people got wedding day jitters. Not Nash.

Marrying Chelle Finch was the most efficient way to get what they both wanted. It was as simple as that.

Of course, that didn’t mean everything wasn’t total fucking chaos in Chelle’s apartment today, thanks to the combination of animals and his cousins.

Chelle’s cat was on top of the bookshelf in the living room, taking whacks at anyone who got a little too close to its lair—which was exactly why Nash had made sure to tell his cousin Dixon to stand there. Nash would pay for that later, no doubt, but it was worth it to watch his cousin jump a foot in the air in surprise when Sir Hiss had given him a quick one-two thwack.