MARRIAGE-BARGAIN

Chapter 8

Hi guys..i know it's been long and i wish my dear readers are safe..so here is a new part..for u guys to enjoy.

ALEXA POV

Alexa turned and studied her new room. She knew Nick was comfortable living with grand wealth, but the tour had made her feel like

Audrey Hepburn's character in My Fair Lady—hopelessly common beside the sophistication of her tutor.

The heck with it. She needed to keep her life as normal as possible, marriage or not. Nick was not her real husband, and she didn't intend

to get sucked into any domestic ruse and find herself lost at the end of the year. She probably wouldn't even see him often. She assumed he

also worked late hours, and besides the occasional party they'd need to attend, they'd lead separate lives.

Her mental pep talk helped, so she ripped off her dress and spent the next hour in a bubble bath in the luxurious spa tub attached to her

room. She glanced just once at the sheer black nightie her sisters had thrown in her overnight bag, then shoved it to the back of a drawer.

She threw on a pair of leggings and cropped fleece sweatshirt, clipped up her hair, and made her way down to the kitchen. Alexa followed the

sounds of crackling and slipped into one of the heavy carved chairs in the kitchen. She drew her bare feet up to the edge of her seat, wrapped

her arms around her knees, and watched her new husband.

He hadn't changed out of his tuxedo. He'd taken off his jacket, and rolled crisp white shirt sleeves up past his elbows. The onyx pearl

buttons had been undone to mid-chest, and revealed a mat of golden hair sprinkled across carved muscles. His shoulders were broad, and

demanded the fabric stretch to accommodate. His black pants covered him like a lover and emphasized the long lean length of his legs and

hips. Alexa had a hell of a time ignoring the hard curve of his butt. The man had a great ass. Too bad she'd never see it naked. She didn't

think seeing his bathing suit pulled down as a teenager counted. Besides, she'd been too busy staring at his front.

Want to help?"

She dug her nails into her palm to give herself a reality boost. "Sure. What are we having?"

"Fettuccini Alfredo with shrimp, garlic bread, and a salad."

A distressed moan escaped her lips. "Oh God, you're mean."

"You don't like the menu?"

"I like it too much. I'll just have the salad."

He shot her a disgusted look over his shoulder. "I'm tired of females who order a salad, then look as if they deserve a medal. A good meal

is a gift."

She clenched her fingers harder. "Well, thanks so much for that smug viewpoint of the female population. For your information, I can

appreciate good food better than you. Did you see the appetizers I ordered for our wedding? Didn't you see how much I ate? Dammit, it's just

like a man to put a rich, fattening meal in front of a woman and get offended when she won't eat. Then you seem shocked in the bedroom

when you're looking at her hips and wondering how she put on ten extra pounds!"

"Nothing wrong with curves on a woman."

She bolted out of her chair and grabbed the ingredients for salad. "I've heard that one before. Let's put this to the test, shall we? How much

does Gabriella weigh?"

He didn't answer.

She threw a red pepper on the table next to the Romaine lettuce and snorted. "Oh, are we tongue-tied now? Is she one hundred pounds or

is that considered fat nowadays?"

When he spoke, his tone was less cocky. "She's a model. She has to retain a lighter weight."

"And does she order salads when she goes out to dinner?"

More silence.

A cucumber rolled over the counter and stopped at the edge. "Ah, I guess that means yes. But I'm sure you appreciate her discipline when

you rip her clothes off."

He shifted his feet and kept his attention on the pan sizzling with shrimp. "Gabriella is a bad example." He definitely sounded

uncomfortable.

"I have another puzzle. Maggie said you tend to date only models. Seems you like skinny women and accept them eating a salad." She

rinsed the vegetables, grabbed a knife, and started hacking. "But if it's someone you're not thinking of sleeping with, I guess you don't care

how fat she gets as long as she keeps you company at meals."

"I happen to detest going out to dinner with most of my dates. I understand they're in the business, but I enjoy a woman who likes good

food and isn't afraid to eat it. You're not fat. You never were fat so I don't know where this obsession comes from."

"You called me fat once."

"I did not."

"Yes, you did. When I was fourteen, you told me I was filling out in all the wrong places."

"Hell, woman, I meant your breasts. I was a snotty teenager who wanted to torture you. You were always beautiful."

Silence descended.

She looked up from her task and her mouth gaped open. In all the years she'd known Nick Ryan, he had teased, tortured, and insulted her.

He had never called her beautiful.

Nick busied himself with whisking the cream and kept his tone casual. "You know what I mean. Beautiful in the sense of sisterly. I watched

you and Maggie go through puberty, and grow into women. Neither of you are ugly. Or fat. I think you're being hard on yourself."

Alexa understood what he meant. He didn't think of her as a beautiful woman, more like as an annoying younger sister who grew up to be

attractive. The difference was monumental, and she ignored the sharp sting of hurt. "Well, I'm going to eat this salad and I don't want to hear

any more comments about women."

"Fine. Would you open a bottle of wine? There's one chilling in the fridge."

She uncorked an expensive chardonnay and watched him sip it. The citrusy scents of wood and fruit rose to her nostrils. She battled for

one minute, then surrendered. One glass. After all, she deserved it.

She poured herself a glass and took a sip. The liquid slid down the back of her throat, the taste both tingly and dry. She uttered a low

moan of pleasure. Her tongue licked the edges of her lips and her eyes closed as the flavor pulsed through her body.