Molten gold eyes bored through her. “Tell me more about your unfulfilled needs.”
“Sleep. Only sleep. That’s the only thing I need right now.” Her resolve cracked a bit with the way he stared.
“Sleep?” The intensity of his expression didn’t change with the question.
“That’s what I said, right? The only thing I need from you is a little time with my mattress.”
Oh my God.She wanted to scoop those words up and shove them back in her mouth.
“Your mattress,” he confirmed.
Still with the expression not changing. The man was unnerving and ridiculous and the idea of him with her on her mattress sounded nicer than she’d ever want to admit.
She drove an icicle stake through the thought. “Alone. Alone with my… You know what? Never mind.”
“Bridgett isn’t available. I need you.” The little muscle in his jaw ticked. “Please.”
“There is literally no one else you could marry?”No other “next, please”?
Apparently, not all the bristle got washed off in the shower.
“You are a behind-the-scenes employee at the station. A female employee, unmarried, with no plans for the next few days.”
“How do you know I don’t have plans?” At least the man had a way with eggs. What could she say? They were fluffy and perfect.
He gestured at her with his fork. “Do you have plans?”
“I have to work. I’m covering for Bridgett, plus my shifts.”
“Handled.”
“It can’t just be handled. It’s my job.”
“Parker’s taking care of it.”
The persistence. Dear heavens, the persistence.
She pressed her eyes into slits. “I would rather have a colonoscopy on national television than parade around as your wife.”
His expression darkened. “Lucy, do you know how many stations my family owns?”
She didn’t answer.
“Enough of them. So that if it’s true, and you’d like to have a colonoscopy on national television, I can make it happen. Your choice is simple. You’re either my wife for the next few days, or you’ll be backside up under a curtain onGood Morning Americaby Monday.”
She bit into her bacon, but now it tasted like ash. “Fine,” she muttered. “Let’s get married.”
He grinned brighter than the sun coming through the window. “It’ll be great.”
She was positive that wasn’t true.
Chapter Seven
Hours later, Lucy lugged her bag through the newsroom, ready for her fake honeymoon in Twin Lakes. William had told her to wear something post-wedding appropriate, so she had tugged on a cream-colored business suit and packed a bag.
As always, the reporters on duty stood gabbing in the corner of the room. They turned collectively to gawk at Lucy.
Anderson let out a catcall and began a slow applause. “Congratulations on your wedding.”
