Chapter 23

23

Mere inches separated them. All she had to do was stretch her arm and she could touch him.

This bed had looked huge when she came into the room earlier and quickly undressed. But now, with her giant of a husband in it, it had taken on a smaller footprint. No bigger than a postage stamp, really.

He’d stood at the side as he stripped, giving her that perfect vista of taut muscle and chest hair. She couldn’t help sneaking a peek while he unpeeled his sweater off over his head. Then he’d stood at the edge of the bed, his back to her, like he was waiting for something.

She couldn’t decide if it was better for him to be outside, showcasing the body of a bruised and battered warrior, or under the covers, a few, tempting inches away from her. An impossible choice.

She’d made it clear she already snooped and found the condoms. They had protection. Yay! A different type of protection might be more optimal, though, a forcefield or hex that would keep her on this side of the bed and ensure her hands did not wander. Because they wanted to. They wanted to explore those broad shoulders and apply her lips to steely flesh and solid warmth.

But she had to resist those thoughts, and one way to do that was to talk.

“Tell me about Connie.”

“Connie?”

After switching off her e-reader and setting it aside, she turned over to face him, just about able to make out his face in the half-dark. “You’re so close. Closer than I think a lot of people are to their grandparents.” How else to explain why he was maintaining this fakery?

“You’re not close to yours?”

“They’re not around anymore and my memory of them is kind of dim.”

“She had breast cancer fourteen years ago. Beat it like a boss.”

“Knew she was a tough cookie. What else?”

She felt him relax. “She protested during the sixties. Burned her bra in the seventies. Probably did a ton of coke in the eighties.”

“Really?”

“Maybe? What I’m trying to say is that she’s always been a woman of her time. Nothing fazes her.”

She inched closer. “It sounds like she’s led a very full life.”

“Yet for some reason she claims she won’t be happy if she doesn’t see us all paired off.”

“So, that’s why you came back to me with your offer?”

He hesitated, likely trying to think of some way to phrase it that wouldn’t give offense. She let him off the hook.

“Hey, we both have our reasons. It’s okay. And like I said, yours is far more noble than mine.”

“Georgia—”

“I promise to do whatever I can to make her wishes come true.” After all, she did it for complete strangers on their birthday. Why not her husband’s grandmother? Why not bring a tiny speck of joy to this lovely family?

He shifted to face her. “The things I said before about you being?—”

“Mercenary?”

“In a word. That wasn’t fair. We all have ways of surviving. I don’t know you well enough to assume your ways are more preferable to mine.”

Perhaps her performance had pleased him. You did good, Georgia! Here are a few morsels of kindness as your reward.

“It’s okay. You can only draw conclusions on the information you’re given.”

He snorted.

“It’s true!”

“So what you’re saying is that either I’m terrible at reading a situation or you’re amazing at fooling the world about what you’re really like.”

She opened her mouth. Closed it quickly. She had no good response for that.

He leaned over, close enough that she could feel his breath hot against her cheek. “Which is it? Banks the dummy or Georgia the faker?”

“Neither of those options are very flattering.”

“No,” he murmured, his voice soft and low. “Tell me what I need to hear.”

“That you’re a dummy?”

He chuckled. “Sounds about right. But I think both can be true at once. You’re hiding things from me.”

Of course she was. If he had any clue of how much she was enjoying this incredibly awkward conversation, he’d think she was crazy. Just talking to him like this, closer than she’d ever felt with anyone since Dani, was more than she deserved. Especially after how she had trapped him, all because she’d been looking for a way to soothe her pain.

“So what secrets are you keeping, Peaches?” He was still close, and the whisper in the words made him seem even closer.

“I’m an open book.”

“Liar.”

She sat up. “Hey! You can’t say that.”

“Can and did. Do you really need your trust fund badly enough that you’d stay married to a stranger?”

“I told you I did.”

A scoffing noise. “Yeah, you did.”

She saw what was happening here. He had a noble reason and he wanted to think she had one, too. He didn’t like thinking so poorly of his wife, probably because it reflected badly on him and his judgment of character.

She could give him something. A little piece of herself for being such a good sport.

She lay back down. “All those stories I told at dinner—well, my parents are disappointed with me. I don’t ever manage to live up to their expectations, and when I found out we were still married, I thought that maybe they might look at me differently.”

He turned to her, leaning on his elbow. “You thought the label ‘wife’ would make them see you as all grown up?”

“Separate, independent.” She hauled in a shaky breath. “I need the money to create my own charity, something that isn’t an extension of my parents’ business interests or what they think is appropriate.”

That shut him up.

“I know, just looking for another way to put off working for a living,” she joked.

Say something, please.

Finally he spoke. “What kind of charity?”

“I’m not sure yet. I’m currently researching options, meeting with Chicagoland foundations, looking for gaps in the philanthropic space.” She wasn’t ready to share just how hands-on she was in her research. Meeting the people who needed help was her favorite part. “My family would prefer I do something to honor Dani, and while that would be great?—”

“You want something of your own.”

Relief that he understood washed over her.

“But you need seed money to make it happen and that’s where your parents come in?”

She nodded. “I need to show them that I’m not the wild child they think I am. That I can run a business and not just be the face of it. What we did in Vegas was reckless and not exactly the behavior of a budding foundation CEO. I’m sorry all this has happened and that the timing sucks and?—”

He pressed a thumb to her lips. “Peaches, it’s okay. You didn’t act alone. I’ve got your back and we’re gonna make sure this works out.”

His thumb dipped to her lower lip, the action pressing enough to part them. The urge to flick her tongue over that pillowy-pad of flesh was overwhelming. He was staring at her mouth, and that craving inside her was building, building, and please, Banks, kiss me again .

Her silent plea went unheard.

He pulled back, and if it took him a little longer to remove his thumb from her lip, then that was purely in the realm of her imagination.

“We should sleep,” he muttered gruffly.

She swallowed back her emotion and nodded yes, but he was already turning away, giving her his strong, unyielding back. Mr. Stoic in all things.