Surrogate and Wife. Emily McKay
the elections will be over. Regardless of the outcome, Hatcher could no longer use me as a pawn in his or anyone else’s campaign.” She sensed she’d almost swayed him, so she added, “It’d only be until November.”
After a long moment of studying her, he shook his head ruefully. “Look, the situation sucks, but—”
She stood. “You said you would help.”
“I know I did, but—”
She crossed the room until she was standing right in front of him. “You said you would do anything you could to help out.”
“I know. And you said you didn’t trust me to stick around.”
“So prove me wrong.” She met his gaze head-on. As disturbing as it was to stare into his eyes at this range, she didn’t let herself blink.
“What makes you think I’ll make an even halfway decent husband?”
“I don’t need you to be a decent husband. I just need a ceremony and a ring.”
He chuckled. “Lowered your standards a bit, have you?”
“Don’t make this harder than it is.”
If possible, his smile broadened. Apparently whatever panic he’d initially felt had dissipated. “Why shouldn’t I? You certainly made my initial offer to help difficult.”
Only Jake could find humor in this situation. “I was surprised,” she said through gritted teeth. “That’s all.”
“‘Are you insane?’ I believe those were your words.”
Hearing him parrot her words back to her, she felt ashamed by how badly she’d treated him. Yet he didn’t seem hurt. Didn’t even seem angry. If anything, he seemed amused.
“Don’t you take anything seriously?” she asked, suddenly feeling peevish.
“Very little.”
“Not even insults to your mental stability?”
He just shrugged. “I’ve heard a lot worse than anything you can come up with, Katie.”
She spun on her heel, needing to put distance between them. “This is never going to work. You’re not the crazy one. I am.”
But before she could make a move, he was beside her, his hand on her shoulder, easing her back to her spot on the sofa. “Hey, calm down. I was just teasing.”
“Well, stop. This isn’t the time or the place. What we’re talking about is very serious.”
“If you say so.”
“I do say so.” She desperately wanted to jump to her feet and pace. But doing so would probably mean being touched by him again. Since she wasn’t willing to risk that, she scooted to the far corner of the sofa, then crossed her legs to keep herself from tapping her foot. “If we’re going to do this, we need to be as businesslike about this as possible. We need rules. Boundaries.”
Shirts that buttoned all the way up, she thought, wisely keeping it to herself.
“Gee, you’re just suckin’ all the fun right out of this.”
If his amused expression was an indication, she hadn’t sucked any of the fun out of it for him.
“I’m serious.”
“I know you are. That’s what makes it so damn cute.”
“Cute?” She wasn’t cute. No one called her cute. She was a judge, for goodness’ sake. Judges weren’t cute. She was pretty sure that edict had been written into the Texas Constitution.
“Now, don’t get all huffy on me,” he said in his most placating tone.
“I am not getting huffy.”
“Sure you are.”
“No, I’m—” She sucked in a deep breath. “This is exactly why we need boundaries.”
“This?” he asked archly.
“This.” She waved her hand back and forth between them. “If any kind of arrangement between us is going to work, we can’t have this kind of flirtatious banter.”
He raised an eyebrow, studying her with obvious humor. “Flirtatious banter? So you think I’m flirting with you?”
Despite his teasing manner, there was a spark of intensity deep in his gaze that unsettled her even more than his flirting.
Boundaries, she reminded herself. Get back to setting boundaries.
“I think you’ll flirt with any woman within earshot.” He didn’t seem insulted by the observation. Or perhaps he just didn’t see it as an insult. “But I don’t want you to flirt with me. It would lend too much intimacy to the marriage.”
“‘Too much intimacy to the marriage.’ Now there’s a phrase you don’t hear very often.”
“And while we’re on the subject…” She felt her throat beginning to tighten, and paused just long enough to clear it. Discreetly, she hoped. “I’m sure you’ll agree there should be absolutely no…intimacy between us.”
His lips twitched as if he was barely containing his laughter. “No intimacy? You mean like no flirting? You already covered that.”
“No, I mean no intimacy.” She felt her cheeks begin to burn. Damn it, why should this discussion embarrass her? She was a grown woman, for goodness sake. “No physical intimacy.”
She’d forced herself to say the words without hesitating or stuttering. But she couldn’t force her mind not to stumble over the images automatically produced. The two of them together, lying naked in a tangle of sheets.
Her reaction surprised her. She didn’t want Jake Morgan. She couldn’t want him. Not in their present situation. Not ever.
The only thing that surprised her more than her reaction was the flash of corresponding heat she saw in his gaze.
In an instant it was gone. Replaced by a teasing twinkle in his eye and a cocksure grin on his lips.
“So you think I won’t be able to resist you? You think once we’re living together, we’ll both cave to temptation unless we set up all these rules beforehand?”
“Certainly not. It just seemed wise to— Wait a minute, what do you mean once we’re living together?”
“Well, there’s no point in us getting married if people aren’t going to see us living together, right? I was thinking your place, ’cause I assume it’s bigger, but if you want to bunk down here, be my guest. But I’ve got to warn you, in your condition, I don’t really think you should be sleeping on the sofa, and there’s only one bed. I may be willing to give up my social life for this, but I’m not willing to give up my bed.”
Her mind reeled as he babbled on about the comforts of his bed. He wanted them to live together? How could she possibly maintain her equilibrium—her emotional distance—with him living under her roof?
“No. Absolutely not.” She shook her head, hoping she sounded very judicial, hoping her tone brooked no argument. “Cohabitation has disaster written all over it.”
Either he didn’t pick up on her no-one-argues-with-the-judge attitude, or he just didn’t care. Because he said, just as firmly, “No, if we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it right. If we’re legally married, but don’t live together, that’s way too suspicious. Hatcher—or someone else—will figure out something’s wrong.”
“You’re right, of course.” She sighed with resignation. “So what now?”
“We’ll need to have a real ceremony,” he said. It doesn’t have to be in a church if you don’t want it to, but we’ll both have to invite some friends. Preferably friends