“Some rules exist for a reason. Professional boundaries protect both of us.”
“From what?” I challenged. “From feeling something real?”
She sighed, and she shifted closer. “From getting hurt. I can’t go through that again, Callan. Not after Austin.”
“I would never?—”
“You’re planning to marry someone else. That’s literally why we met.”
I had no good answer for that. She was right, of course. This whole situation was a mess of my own making.
“I don’t have to,” I said finally. “Go through with it, I mean. The bet. The arrangement. Any of it.”
“And lose thirty million dollars? Your friends would never let you live it down.”
“Some things are worth more than money or pride,” I said quietly.
Her hand was still in mine.
“We should probably sleep. It’s been a long day.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, though I made no move to release her hand, and she didn’t pull away.
“Good night, Callan,” she whispered.
“Good night, darling.”
CHAPTER 13
A Very Hands-On Consultation
ANICA
Iwoke up with my face smooshed against a set of abs that could only have been carved by an ancient deity with a personal vendetta against shirts. For a blissful moment, I thought I’d finally achieved my dream of being transformed into a body pillow for Greek gods, until I realized the abs were attached to my client. My extremely aroused client, judging by the impressive tent pitched in the general vicinity of my thigh.
Holy. Shit.
Somehow during the night, the careful demilitarized zone we’d established in the middle of the bed had been utterly demolished. Not only had I crossed enemy lines, I’d apparently annexed the entire territory, planted a flag, and established permanent settlements. My head was nestled against Callan’s chest, one of my legs was thrown over his, and my arm was draped across his stomach like I was protecting the last cupcake at a birthday party.
But the real kicker? His arm was wrapped around me, holding me close, his fingers tangled in my hair like he was afraid I might escape. Which, had I been fully awake and in possession of my faculties, would have been a very legitimate fear.
For a blissful, drowsy moment, I let myself enjoy the sensation. The steady rhythm of his heart beneath my ear. The warm, clean scent of his skin. The way our bodies fit together like puzzle pieces designed by a particularly horny jigsaw manufacturer.
Then reality hit me like a bucket of ice water laced with shame and professional ethics violations.
Oh my god. I was cuddling with my client. My very aroused client with a morning situation that could double as a tentpole for a circus. Who I was supposed to be finding a wife for. Who was not supposed to be pressed against me with what feels like nature’s most impressive kickstand.
I carefully extricated myself from our accidental embrace. The last thing I needed was for him to wake up and find me wrapped around him like an octopus with boundary issues.
Too late. As I shifted away, Callan stirred, his eyes fluttering open. For a moment, he looked confused, then a slow, lazy smile spread across his face as he registered our position.
“Good morning,” he murmured, his voice deliciously rough with sleep. “I see the border patrol failed spectacularly at their job. Not only did you cross the border, you annexed the territory and established a dictatorship.”
“I—I must have moved in my sleep,” I stammered, scooting back to my side of the bed. “Sorry about that. I’m not usually a... a cuddler.”
“Nothing to apologize for,” he replied, stretching in a way that made the sheet slip dangerously low on his hips where his boner still stood tall. “Best night’s sleep I’ve had in months, actually. You make an excellent blanket. Ten out of ten, would be smothered again.”
“We should probably get going,” I said, desperately changing the subject and ignoring the heat creeping up my neck. “The ferry will be leaving soon.”
