I don’t have a deadbolt! Am I at the wrong door?
The door swung open and heavenly aromas assaulted her nostrils. Cole Miller’s face greeted her.
“I saw your last name on the mailbox—Ponzio—so I made lasagna and garlic bread for dinner. Then I realized, that’s probably your married name.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets, looking adorably nervous. “Do you like Italian food?”
She managed a nod before her bag was lifted from her hands and a gentle tug on her arm pulled her inside. Her heart was beating so fast she felt faint. She must’ve swayed because Cole urged her toward the sofa.
“Are you dizzy? You’d better sit down.”
She was suddenly mortified at the sad state of her apartment, though it hadn’t occurred to her the night before. The threadbare couch and the side chair with a rip in the faux leather. The table with the peeling wood veneer. No wonder he was so solicitous. He pitied her.
At last, she untangled her tongue. “Cole, what are you doing here?”
He knelt on the ratty carpet in front of her and lifted her hand, cradling it between his mechanical hand on the bottom and his natural hand on top. She ought to pull away, but it might be awkward. She had no choice but to let him press his lips to the back of her fingers. Yet in spite of the platonic nature of his tender kiss, a shiver rippled through her body.
“I’m here to prove that it wouldn’t be such a terrible thing to marry me.”
CHAPTER 6
The shell-shocked expression on Brooke’s face wasn’t exactly what Cole was hoping for.
At least she didn’t throw up… that’s an improvement.
“Why don’t we discuss it over dinner?” He scrambled to his feet and offered his hand. “Can you make it to the table? Or do I need to bring it to you?”
She didn’t budge an inch. “Did you break into my apartment?”
“No, but it would’ve been easy to do.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “That’s why I installed that deadbolt. The key is on the table.”
“How did you get inside?”
“Your apartment manager let me in when I told her we were friends, but I forgot my key.” He cocked his head. “It probably helped that I agreed to take a selfie with her.”
“She just took your word for it? She didn’t even call me to confirm?” One eyebrow arched in a this-is-unbelievable look he was becoming familiar with.
“Like I told you, most people trust me because I’m famous. You, however, are a bit more challenging.”
“I don’t trust any man, right now, especially one I barely know. But, I’ll make a deal with you.” She pushed up from the couch without waiting for him to offer his assistance again. “The day you trust me is the day I’ll do the same for you.”
“What are you talking about? I already trust you. I confessed everything to you, didn’t I?” He barely held his temper in check, but he knew she was simply being irrational. He’d heard that was a problem for pregnant women.
“You trust me professionally, but you don’t trust me as a person.” Her hands balled into fists and slid down to her hips. “I don’t trust you, either, but at least I’m honest about it.”
“I think offering to marry you proves I trust you quite a bit.”
“If I agreed to be on Millionaire Matchup with you, I’d be giving up everything… my privacy, my job, potentially my career. And I wouldn’t even have a guarantee you’d choose me.”
“I have a different plan, now. If you marry me right away, it’ll get me out of the contract, completely.”
Her eyes practically bugged out of her head. Any second she might start throwing things around the room. Was that a common hormonal reaction?
“You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“I do. I’ve already discussed it with my lawyer. He wrote a prenuptial agreement this afternoon. I think, if you read it—”
“No.”
“But I’m offering to be the baby’s legal father. That means I’ll provide child support.”
“No.” She said it a little louder.
“Essentially, you stay married to me for the next nine months to a year, and you’ll be able to raise your child in the lap of luxury.”
“I told you before, Cole, you can’t buy this baby.”
“That’s not fair! I’m being more than generous and asking for very little in return.” He stomped to the table and grabbed one of the water glasses, which he’d already filled while preparing their dinner. Noting how his hand shook as he lifted it to his mouth, he willed himself to calm down.
“Then why do you want to claim to be my baby’s father?” She followed behind him, shaking her finger in his face.
“So you won’t have to deal with your ex to get child support,” he said, his chest tight with righteous anger.
“I’d just be trading one ex for another.” She turned her face away, her voice small. “I admit you’re a lot nicer than Nathan, but you’re also rich and powerful. If something happened and you wanted to take my baby away from me, I wouldn’t be able to stop you.”
“I would never do something like that.” Though her suggestion hurt his pride, he understood why she said it. He knew exactly how it felt to be powerless.
She faced him, her eyes glistening. “I don’t think you would, Cole. But I can’t take that chance.”
