Chapter 32

"What?" Amaya’s eyes widened. "Are you kidding me?"

"Do I look like I know how to joke around?" Chase smirked. With their lips so close, so tantalisingly close, and the ever-present heat shimmering between them like an invisible thread binding them despite their time apart, it took a few seconds for his words to penetrate.

What the hell is wrong with him? How could she play her like this?

When they did, she jerked back, shock rendering her speechless.

Her mouth opened and closed as her mind spun with confusion. She could’ve sworn he’d just proposed.

"Miss Patterson, you heard me."

He straightened, and while half of her wanted to clobber him for the ludicrous statement he’d just made, the other half irrationally missed his proximity.

He perched on the desk, towering over her.

"Marry me. That’s my condition."

"Are you out of your mind?"

She leaped to her feet and stood toe-to-toe with him. "What sort of stupid condition is that? Like I’d ever marry you, like I’d agree to—"

The idea didn’t seem so distasteful a few seconds ago, but when she had her sanity back, it was clearly nonsense. Yes, Chase needed a wife, but... "Mr. Johnson, do I look like wife material? Besides, I have a son. You must be very drunk to even consider that nonsense."

"Nonsense?"

Heat flooded her cheeks, and she clenched her hands to stop herself from reaching out and strangling him.

"Come off it, this is like shooting two birds with one stone. It's a win-win situation. Tommy will have a father—"

"What the fuck—"

"Miss Patterson, that is my condition." His mouth twitched, and the itch to strangle him intensified tenfold.

Amaya sighed and began pacing.

Chase muttered with a hint of a smile on his face. "In that case, you’ll see how much sense this makes."

"Chase, none of this makes sense!" Her temper, which she’d learned to control over the months, exploded like a tinder-dry bush touched by a match. "You’re insane! You’ve been playing some warped game ever since I saw you this morning, and I have no idea why. You pretend you have business on the farm, you hide from me, then you come out with this ridiculous proposal."

She paused, dragged in several breaths, and released her hands before her nails sliced into her palms. "I came to you in good faith to try and put a simple deal forward, and what do I get in return? A bunch of stupidity!"

"Stupidity?"

This time, his mouth creased into a broad grin, and she almost committed murder on the spot.

"Is that some sort of bullsh—"

"It sure is, and you’re full of it."

Hands on hips, she leaned into him, shoving her face into his.

"When did you become such a jerk, Chase?"

But he wouldn’t dwell on that. The old Daisy was still there, under the fancy business suit and blonde-streaked hair; she’d just shown him with that magnificent temper bursting like a tropical thunderstorm.

While Chase’s smile didn’t slip, his cool composure cracked a little. The woman he once dreamed of thought he was a jerk, and while it shouldn’t matter, it did.

"What's wrong with marrying me? It's not like I'm marrying you for real. This is all a marriage of convenience. This is merely a contract between two people."

"What?"

"I'm not doing this only for my sake; partly, yes, but the thing is, your son needs—"

"That's none of your damn business. Tommy is mine."

"Who told you he wasn't yours, Amaya?"

"I’m—I mean, I don't want—"

"What? You don't want to disappoint his father by marrying me? That scumbag who left you is a good-for-nothing asshole."

Dumbfounded, Amaya bit her lips and looked out the window.

Chase smiled. Daisy wouldn’t agree to his proposal, while the career-focused Amaya in sky-high stilettos and a designer suit would if he presented it the right way. "Consider this a business transaction, a win-win situation for us both. Nothing more, nothing less."

He saw a flicker of interest flash across her face at his mention of business before her temper flared again.

"You’re crazy! Did you know that?" She raked her hands through her immaculately blow-dried hair, sending it into the frizz he remembered. All the fight drained out of her, and she slumped back into the chair, deliciously defeated, and he yearned to sweep her into his arms and show her this deal was the perfect solution for them both.

"We both need this; I need a wife; Tommy needs a father; I can be a father, Amaya."

Raising her wide blue eyes to stare at him in capitulation, she nodded.

"But Chase—"

He waited, captured by the deepening blue and by the emotions shifting like flower blossoms floating on a spring breeze.

He didn’t want to feel this; he certainly didn’t want to feel like this, damn it, but when she looked at him with remembrance clouding her eyes and a softening around her lush mouth, all he could think about was how incredible she used to feel in his arms.

He didn’t want to rehash the past or taint this deal with emotion, but he couldn’t resist asking, "I know about Tommy’s situation, that he needed special care. I can help. I have all the money in the world to help him."

"But—" Her mouth softened some more, and he stiffened, shocked by how much he wanted to ravage those lips.

"Let me help you, Amaya. For old time sake, I can help. I won't ask for anything in return; just marry me."

Her tongue darted out to moisten her bottom lip, a simple, unaffected gesture that shot straight to his groyne; there was nothing unaffected about his visceral reaction.

She gave up moistening her bottom lip in favour of worrying about it, and he clamped down on a groan. "I don't want to ruin your name. I'm a single mother..."

Chase groaned and responded. "Who cares? We aren't in the mediaeval era, for heaven’s sake."

"Chase," she didn’t glance away as he expected her to, didn’t push him away when he swept her into his arms and crushed his mouth on hers.

She tasted vanilla, strawberry, and sweetness. "Marry me," he murmured in her ear.

He could never get enough of her, and it looked as if nothing had changed as his tongue swept into her mouth, taunting, challenging, and savouring her passionate response as she clung to him, her fingers tangling in his buttons as he pulled her flush against him.

This deal was supposed to be purely business, but as their kiss deepened to the point of no return, he knew he was kidding himself.

What he felt around Amaya, how his blood fired when she was in his arms, had nothing to do with business and everything to do with earth-shattering pleasure.

The moment Chase eased off the pressure to kiss his way across her cheek, Amaya froze.

This was where taking a trip down memory lane got her: in the arms of the devil himself.

He’d proposed the most ludicrous deal she’d ever heard in her life, and what had she done?

Let him kiss her. Again.

Had responded to him. Again. Fuck! Where the hell is your brain, Amaya?

She didn’t get any of it. Business was business, but what he’d proposed was... well, it was just plain nuts.

How could he kiss her like this?

How could she respond to him like he was her damn water in the middle of the desert?

This is crazy, she thought to herself.

Marriage to Chase Johnson, her boss, in exchange for her—what? Job? Her son’s health?

She couldn’t entertain the thought for a second, let alone acknowledge the tiny voice that reminded her she’d do anything to achieve her goal.

Well, marriage to Chase didn’t fall into the category of anything. It fell into the category of certifiable lunacy.

This is insane!

Chase set her away from him, his glib smile at odds with the surprising tenderness in his eyes.

"Well, I guess that proves being my wife wouldn’t be all bad."

She summoned her temper, needing it to anchor her threadbare control, which wavered the moment he mentioned the physical benefits of a possible marriage.

"If you think I’d ever agree to your proposal, you’re mad."

He shrugged and stepped away.

"Hey, I’m not the one who wants that paper on the table signed. And me back in the city. Surely, Justin will mind, but... yeah, Ball’s in your court, Daisy."

"Stop calling me that!"

He raised his brow.

"Okay!"

She hated hearing the name only he had ever called her on his tongue with familiarity. She hated the blunt truth of his casual statement even more.

She did need this mess. It was the only way to get closure on a past she’d rather forget.

Studying him through narrowed eyes, she said, "Not that I’d contemplate your crazy scheme for one second, but if I did, what’s in it for you?"

Something furtive, mysterious, shifted behind his steady state before he blinked, eradicating the enigmatic emotion in an instant.

"Come on, it's not like you didn't know. I need a wife. Remember? It’s time I got married."

"Why?"

"You know why the shareholders wanted a respectable, family-oriented boss that they could rely on. Me without a wife, from their point of view, is irresponsible."

Why now? Why me? was what she really wanted to ask, but she clamped down on the urge to blurt out her questions.

Why was he doing this? Why would he suggest something so outlandish when they shared nothing these days but a residual attraction based on old times’ sake?

He shrugged, and she hated his nonchalance in the face of something so important. She would’ve given everything she owned to be married to him once, and now he’d reduced it to a cold, calculating business proposition that hurt way more than it should.

‘I’m expanding the business, building more branches, and this farm. I'm going to turn it into a resort of some kind, but overseas investors won’t take me seriously because of my age. They see a young, wealthy single guy and immediately think I’m a playboy dabbling in business for fun."

"You are a playboy, Chase."

"Mocking me again, I see." He rolled his shoulders and tilted his head from side to side to stretch his neck, and she stifled the urge to massage it as she used to. He’d always had tense muscles after a hard day’s farm work and had relaxed under her soothing hands.

Her palms tingled with the urge to reach out and stroke his tension away. So she balled her hands into fists and swallowed the unexpected lump in her throat. Damn memories.

He rubbed the back of his neck absent-mindedly, oblivious to her irrational craving to do the same. "Marriage will give me respectability in their eyes, solidify my entry into wider business circles, and open up a whole new investment pool.’

She stared at him, so cool and confident, admiring the powerful businessman he’d become and lamenting the loss of the bad boy who hadn’t given a toss what people thought of him.

"That’s it?"

He nodded and showed her his hands palm up as if he weren’t hiding anything.

"That’s it."

"Why me?" she asked.