Nichole secured the binder in her bag. Her hands fluttered over the dessert menu. She looked everywhere, except at Chase. Her foot tapped a restless beat against the hardwood floor. Chase shifted his focus to where it belonged: her business deal. “I wouldn’t send anything to those guys until they sign an agreement.”
“What kind of agreement?” Her fingers stilled on the menu. Her foot slowed.
“The kind that says Fund Infusion won’t talk about your idea or steal your program.” Nichole and Chase needed an agreement too. Or at the very least an understanding about exactly when his fake husband duties officially ended. Everything had to end.
“You’re talking about an NDA.” Relief flowed through her words and her shoulders lowered. “I already signed one.”
“But did they?” Would she want him as a fake husband for much longer? He couldn’t continue their ruse. It was wrong. And yet, like most of his bad ideas, this one had appeal. Too much appeal.
“I never requested they sign one. That was stupid. I’m glad you’re here.”
What more could he do for her? He was a football player, not a lawyer. Thanks to a long-standing battle with dyslexia, he most likely couldn’t get through the first page of her potential contract. People were depending upon her to make smart choices. She deserved a more qualified fake husband. Yet for a fake wife, Nichole was perfect. He should definitely end things here. “So, about this marriage thing?”
“I’m so sorry.” Nichole covered her face with her hands. “I panicked and it came out.”
“I panicked too when you landed on my lap.” Chase chuckled, bringing the conversation back to the light and easy like he preferred. Like people expected from him. “Beautiful woman...heat of the moment...hot kiss.”
He bypassed an apology. He wouldn’t have been sincere. There was something special about their kiss. The first contact had spiked through him and a different sort of adrenaline rush had overtaken him. He wanted another hit. Still, he should explain.
A variety of red shades colored her cheeks and stained her neck. He wanted to trace his fingers over her skin, discover if her pulse raced as fast as his. His gaze locked on to her hands, the ones blocking his view of her mouth. The temptation to kiss her bypassed his common sense.
He’d earned his reputation for misbehaving over years. Although he’d been well-behaved most of the evening. He couldn’t change his entire personality overnight. One more kiss between friends. In private. No one had to know. Surely that would end his sudden fascination with Nichole Moore.
“We should let the marriage stand.” Time out. That was completely wrong. However, the idea felt right. The same way a football had always fit naturally in his hand.
“You aren’t serious.” Nichole gaped at him.
“Maybe.” He shrugged.
A pretend wife, specifically one like the stable and steady Nichole Moore, had merit like a trick play on a fourth down and one yard at the goal line. Certainly, a wife like Nichole would help polish his tarnished reputation. The very reputation the Pioneers’ staff and his agent had insisted he repair. Immediately.
Fortunately, her common sense remained intact. She shook her head. “Of course, you’re not serious. You’re never serious about anything.”
“I’m very serious about football.” And saving his career any way he could. He grabbed her hand and his decision. “And this.”
“You can’t be.” She tugged her hand free in disbelief.
“It makes sense.” Except for the list of potential drawbacks, including possibly hurting her reputation. Asking her to lie. Wanting to kiss her again.
Chase abandoned his list of cons and moved closer to Nichole. The connection settled him. “You said yourself you’re glad I’m here. Well, I can be right beside you until you sign your contract with Vick and Glenn.”
Could he repair his reputation, save his career, help Nichole and keep her in the friend-zone? She had to stay where she couldn’t distract him, and he couldn’t hurt her. But this was such a bad idea.
“You want to remain my husband.” Nichole’s eyebrows raised, her mouth pursed.
She was the only one who had ever ignored his charm and always expected more from him. She’d never let him off easy. He’d missed her. He pile-drove that realization beneath the con list, regained the breath trying to hitch inside his chest and raced down the path of no return. “I have my own contract negotiations going on.”
“You cannot believe a fake marriage will help.” Nichole’s voice ratcheted from disbelief to full-blown skepticism.
This was the Nichole he knew. The one who’d always guided back him back to the right path. The one who’d held him to a higher standard. The one who’d let him devise his schemes in full detail and had squashed them. Soon she’d force him to see the error of his ways and present a better option.
“Absolutely. I need a reputation overhaul.” He relaxed into the smile he always relied on and warmed to his scheme. Secure in the knowledge that Nichole would never agree. “You said it yourself. I’m never serious about anything. Married men are settled, dull and disillusioned. I definitely don’t ever want to be actually married.”
“This is a bad idea.” Nichole put a hand to her forehead.
“It’s only short-term,” Chase assured her. Perhaps if his father had told his mother the very same thing—that his wedding vows had an expiration date, his mother wouldn’t have been so hurt and devastated when his father had left. “Until contracts are finalized and signed. Then we break up.”
“We claim our lives are going in two separate directions, file for a pretend divorce citing irreconcilable differences.” Nichole paused as if sorting the details out inside her head. “That’s what all those celebrities do and then they go their separate ways. Everyone’s happy.”
Chase’s mouth dropped open. Nichole had never contributed to one of his schemes before. Never. “We couldn’t
