Secrets of the Tycoon's Bride / The Executive's Surprise Baby: Secrets of the Tycoon's Bride

“Public displays of affection. We’ll need to touch. Like we did tonight.”

She could handle that. “Okay.”

“Kiss.”

She gulped. “I don’t think—”

“Newlyweds kiss and touch. Often. Making people believe we can’t keep our hands off each other is part of the performance.”

Her lips seemed to throb beneath his gaze. Tension stretched between them. Would he kiss her tonight? To seal the deal? To test her acting ability? Her heart pounded so hard she felt light-headed.

“Can you handle that?”

“I…um…yes. I can handle kissing you.” She hoped.

Adam turned abruptly and strolled deeper into the living room. Her lungs emptied in a rush.

“You need different clothes, makeup, hair, a manicure—”

“You want me to get a makeover?” She didn’t know whether to be insulted or pleased. She’d been downplaying her looks for so long it had become second nature. Apparently, she’d become good at looking drab.

He hitched his pants and sat on her sofa. Such a masculine man on flowered chintz just looked…wrong somehow. “To be believable as my wife you’re going to need a little flash and a lot of style.”

“To compete with your usual bimbos, you mean?”

“There will be no competition. I told you, Lauryn, I won’t be unfaithful despite your ridiculous insistence on celibacy.”

She marched across the room and stopped in front of him. “It’s not ridiculous.”

He stretched his arms along the back of the sofa and let his gaze coast from her face to her breasts, waist, legs and then back up again. Goose bumps sprouted in the wake of his examination.

“We’ll see who can hold out the longest. And when you break, you come to me. No one else.”

She wanted to smack that smug smile off his face. “I won’t break.”

“We’ll see. I’ll hire a personal shopper to help you choose appropriate clothing and make the beauty appointments.”

“I’ll choose my own clothes and make my own appointments.”

“Lauryn—”

“And I won’t dress like a tramp.”

His eyes narrowed. “I don’t date tramps.”

“Didn’t your last girlfriend recently make the news for flashing a pantiless crotch shot at the paparazzi?”

“She wasn’t my girlfriend.”

“The media says differently.” She futilely tried to massage the headache squeezing the back of her skull beneath her knot of hair. “I can dress myself and do all the rest.”

He sat forward, forearms braced on his knees. “Not from what I’ve seen. Keep your wardrobe conservative, but try to dress your age instead of matronly. Remember, people are supposed to believe I’m attracted to you.”

Ouch. “You’ll have to trust me.”

“We can’t afford mistakes. We have to get it right the first time.”

“I’ll get it right.”

Tense, silent seconds ticked past. “You have a headache?”

“Yes. But it’s nothing a good night’s sleep won’t cure. Please, Adam, go home. I’ll read the documents and discuss them with you tomorrow.”

He stared at her as if considering refusing, but then rose. “I’ll pick you up at Estate at five tomorrow evening. We’ll stop by Brandon’s office for the notary to witness our signatures before going to dinner.”

And then she’d be tied to Adam Garrison in a sham of a marriage for two years.

But what was two years when her entire life had been a lie?

Four

“Ready to roll?”

Lauryn nearly jumped out of her chair at the sound of Adam’s voice behind her late Tuesday afternoon. She swiveled around and found him standing just inside her office.

Black suit, white shirt, conservative black-and-silver-patterned tie. Manly. Magnificent. He’d always been a sharp dresser, but she rarely saw him so formally attired.

“Almost. You’re early. Let me print this last page.” She caught the sheet before it could hit the tray. “I typed up an addendum.”

“Addendum to what?” He crossed to her desk and took the papers she offered.

“Our agreement. These are the items we covered last night.”

His gaze ricocheted from the pages to her face. He backtracked and closed her office door. “Our sex life is not going into a legal document.”

“I want the terms spelled out.”

“I won’t have anything in writing that the press can use to discredit me. The prenup and marriage contract are risky enough. Delete that file,” he ordered in an authoritative voice.

Her hackles rose in a conditioned response. Like a Pavlovian pooch. She’d never taken orders well. Her father had barked them as if she’d been a new recruit, and she…well, she’d rebelled. More often than not her response had landed her in hot water.

But that was then.

“Adam—”

“Do it now, Lauryn.”

Grasping the arms of her chair, she sat back and counted to ten. “You’re protecting your interests. Why shouldn’t I protect mine?”