Read Online Shoreline Drive by Lily Everett - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lily Everett
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bimbo on the Eastern Seaboard to find a replacement, but now the agency won’t send me anyone else.”
“I wonder why.” Merry studied the thunderous scowl on his handsome face. It was enough to scare the bejeebus out of any poor college kid looking for a summer job. “Have you thought about doing phone interviews?”
Grabbing a big black binder off the desk, Ben started flipping through it. “I need to get to my next appointment. If I can figure out what the hell it is. You got something to say, spit it out. I assume you didn’t come over here to clean my office and critique my interview style.”
Merry’s mouth went bone-dry. Licking her lips, she fought to keep her head up and her tone as straightforward as Ben’s. “No. I’m here to talk about your offer.”
Ben paused his riffling through the appointment calendar, his gaze trained stubbornly on the page in front of him. “My proposal, you mean.”
His sudden stillness communicated a level of nerves that, perversely, put Merry at ease. Hopping up to sit on the edge of the desk she’d cleared, she swung her booted feet and leaned back on her hands. “I thought about what you said, and you made some good points. So here’s my counteroffer.”
That got Ben to look at her. “I’m no expert, but I don’t think that’s how marriage proposals usually go.”
“Tough bananas. If you want somebody who’ll smile big and bat her eyes and agree with everything you say, propose to someone else. And I recommend you actually take her out to dinner first, at least once. Most girls would prefer you pop the question after a little courtship.”
Ben’s gaze sharpened thoughtfully. “Dinner! I should’ve taken you to dinner. Is the Firefly Café good enough, or would it have to be that fancy French place in Winter Harbor?”
“Don’t be a dummy. There’s nothing better than the Firefly Café,” Merry told him. “But that’s beside the point, because you didn’t ask some other woman to marry you—you asked me. And I don’t need any of that courtship crap, because if we do this thing, it’s not going to be a regular marriage. It’s more of a business deal. What’s the phrase? A marriage in name only.”
She held her breath, because that was essential—a deal breaker, in fact. Merry Preston had slept with plenty of guys for reasons that turned out to be pretty stupid, in retrospect, and she was through with it. Sure, Ben was hot—it would be impossible not to notice. But she’d fallen for good looks before, and she knew better now. That part of her life was over—she had more important things to focus on these days, like Alex.
“That sounds like you’re saying no sex,” Ben said, with his usual bluntness.
Taking that as her cue to be equally blunt, Merry laid it out for him. “If you’re going to expect sex from me in return for financial stability … there’s a name for a woman like that, and it’s not a label I’m willing to carry. So I want it understood up front. If we get married, I’m never going to have sex with you. Ever.”
* * *
To the casual observer, Ben would bet he looked calm and collected, unconcerned at the fact that the woman of his dreams was offering him everything he wanted in one hand, and taking back a big chunk of it with the other.
But Ben was a master at weathering emotional whiplash—he’d been told that as a fairly complicated, uneven-keel person, himself, he’d inspired plenty of it in others—and the important thing was to keep his eyes on the prize.
She was close to saying yes. A qualified “yes,” to be sure, but this first “yes” was only the first step of a much longer journey. And without it, he had no chance at getting any thing he wanted.
So Ben shrugged instead of arguing, and said, “Makes sense. I wouldn’t want you to do something you’re uncomfortable with.”
That had the added benefit of being true—Ben’s dream was not, in any way, to coerce Merry Preston into
“I wonder why.” Merry studied the thunderous scowl on his handsome face. It was enough to scare the bejeebus out of any poor college kid looking for a summer job. “Have you thought about doing phone interviews?”
Grabbing a big black binder off the desk, Ben started flipping through it. “I need to get to my next appointment. If I can figure out what the hell it is. You got something to say, spit it out. I assume you didn’t come over here to clean my office and critique my interview style.”
Merry’s mouth went bone-dry. Licking her lips, she fought to keep her head up and her tone as straightforward as Ben’s. “No. I’m here to talk about your offer.”
Ben paused his riffling through the appointment calendar, his gaze trained stubbornly on the page in front of him. “My proposal, you mean.”
His sudden stillness communicated a level of nerves that, perversely, put Merry at ease. Hopping up to sit on the edge of the desk she’d cleared, she swung her booted feet and leaned back on her hands. “I thought about what you said, and you made some good points. So here’s my counteroffer.”
That got Ben to look at her. “I’m no expert, but I don’t think that’s how marriage proposals usually go.”
“Tough bananas. If you want somebody who’ll smile big and bat her eyes and agree with everything you say, propose to someone else. And I recommend you actually take her out to dinner first, at least once. Most girls would prefer you pop the question after a little courtship.”
Ben’s gaze sharpened thoughtfully. “Dinner! I should’ve taken you to dinner. Is the Firefly Café good enough, or would it have to be that fancy French place in Winter Harbor?”
“Don’t be a dummy. There’s nothing better than the Firefly Café,” Merry told him. “But that’s beside the point, because you didn’t ask some other woman to marry you—you asked me. And I don’t need any of that courtship crap, because if we do this thing, it’s not going to be a regular marriage. It’s more of a business deal. What’s the phrase? A marriage in name only.”
She held her breath, because that was essential—a deal breaker, in fact. Merry Preston had slept with plenty of guys for reasons that turned out to be pretty stupid, in retrospect, and she was through with it. Sure, Ben was hot—it would be impossible not to notice. But she’d fallen for good looks before, and she knew better now. That part of her life was over—she had more important things to focus on these days, like Alex.
“That sounds like you’re saying no sex,” Ben said, with his usual bluntness.
Taking that as her cue to be equally blunt, Merry laid it out for him. “If you’re going to expect sex from me in return for financial stability … there’s a name for a woman like that, and it’s not a label I’m willing to carry. So I want it understood up front. If we get married, I’m never going to have sex with you. Ever.”
* * *
To the casual observer, Ben would bet he looked calm and collected, unconcerned at the fact that the woman of his dreams was offering him everything he wanted in one hand, and taking back a big chunk of it with the other.
But Ben was a master at weathering emotional whiplash—he’d been told that as a fairly complicated, uneven-keel person, himself, he’d inspired plenty of it in others—and the important thing was to keep his eyes on the prize.
She was close to saying yes. A qualified “yes,” to be sure, but this first “yes” was only the first step of a much longer journey. And without it, he had no chance at getting any thing he wanted.
So Ben shrugged instead of arguing, and said, “Makes sense. I wouldn’t want you to do something you’re uncomfortable with.”
That had the added benefit of being true—Ben’s dream was not, in any way, to coerce Merry Preston into
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