“I like Calvin Klein, myself. Good movement, breathability. In case you want to buy me some. Wives buy their husbands underwear on American television.”
My throat was thick at the idea of Maxim wearing nothing but underwear. I glanced around for my champagne glass, but I must have left in it the bathroom. I grabbed the other one—Maxim didn’t drink before games, he’d said—and poured myself some more. No reason to let my favorite bubbly go to waste, after all.
He watched me, his gaze hooded, his expression carefully blank. “Let’s eat, then we can choose rings.”
I settled at the table, my legs shaky. “What else did Millie tell you?” I asked, suspicious. “You two have been talking a lot.”
“We have. And I already told you pretty much everything.”
“Tell me again,” I said.
Maxim sighed. “She told me you need to be out of the apartment by the end of the month, and she’d been worried about where you’d end up, especially now that Dillon is harassing you.”
I narrowed my eyes. He’d told me that to butter me up. “What else?”
Maxim shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal, but the faint tightening of muscles around his eyes spoke of his unease. “Your phone password, but you already know that. I’ve checked your text and email apps to ensure that Dillon hasn’t sent you more messages. He has, so I forwarded them to my—our—lawyer.”
I grimaced. “Lance is notmylawyer. I can’t afford him.” I picked up my fork and raised my gaze to Maxim. He stared back, contemplative. “What?”
“I thought you’d be madder about me…never mind.”
“Being in my phone? We both know that’s a major overstep, but I’m much more concerned about getting married tomorrow than whether you’re reading my emails. I mean, we’re going to be joined, living in the same house—”
“In the same bed,” Maxim rumbled.
I choked on the first bite of my dinner. Grabbing the napkin, I managed to not embarrass myself too badly. Maxim made to rise, no doubt to pound me on the back, but I waved him off.
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?” he asked.
“Say things likethatto me.” I leaned back in my chair and stared up at the ceiling. It was high with lots of crown molding.
“Why? It’s true. I’m marrying you and the government is going to need to ensure it’s a real marriage.” He paused, which made me shift uncomfortably. “I mean, that I didn’t marry you just to stay in the country. Lance said that’s frowned upon. So…I don’t know how it works, exactly, but Maurice Lambert could show up, do a house check, make sure we live together.” His voice dropped. “Sleep in the same room…”
I wanted Maxim; that desire had never been in doubt. But that didn’t mean I wanted our sexual relationship to be part of a business deal. I’d just signed a damn document that detailed my future bequest, should our marriage fail. My daddy would be furious I hadn’t read it, but what was the point? I was barely making ends meet and had no current assets. It wasn’t as if Maxim benefited financially from our union.
The next bite of tamales tasted like dust, and I struggled to swallow it.
I pushed the plate away, waiting for Maxim to finish his huge salad topped with salmon. Maxim’s diet reminded me of my brother’s. Both men took their nutrition seriously, understanding that what they put into their bodies impacted their physical performance. As much as I wished to have their willpower, I enjoyed tasty food too much to only eat the optimal option. Frankly, brussels sprouts could rot.
“You find the idea of sleeping with me repulsive?” Maxim asked. Hurt shone on his face.
“What? No. I was thinking about brussels sprouts.”
He rose from the table without another comment, which made me think he hadn’t believed me.
“You know I find you attractive,” I said, somewhat defensively.
He grunted. I’d hurt his feelings—maybe chipped his pride. Dammit. That hadn’t been my intention. I cleared my place, dumping my napkin atop my partially eaten dinner.
“So, you told Millie we were getting married?”
That sounded accusatory. Maxim’s shoulders slumped further. “No. I thought you’d like to tell your friend and your family.” He gestured to a pile of shopping bags by the door. “Here. These are for you.”
“What…” How had I not noticed them? Sure, Maxim was a force and drew my attention, but there were so many bags.
“I wasn’t sure what you’d want to wear tomorrow, either to the courthouse or to the game. I…I’d like it if you wore my sweater.”
