Temporary Wife Temptation

He grimaced as he stepped into the meat market known as Le Rêve, and headed for the private VIP room. Garrett usually steered clear of places like this, but Nobu was a widower who thrived on the kind of excitement Le Rêve had to offer.

Garrett was relieved the VIP room was empty. But the civil war he’d instigated with his grandmother wrapped him in a fog of anger. How had it to come to this? He pinched the bridge of his nose as tension built in his temples. When his phone buzzed in his back pocket, he sighed with resignation, knowing it was Nobu canceling.

I’m tied up in a work emergency. Not getting out of here until past midnight. My apologies. I owe you one.

Garrett was officially off the clock. He huffed a humorless laugh. If he married that Korean heiress, he would never be off the clock. Even the most intimate aspects of his life would be intertwined with Hansol. He was tempted to grab a stiff drink, but he didn’t get drunk in public and rarely did so in private. Control was much too valuable, but tonight, his was dangerously close to shattering.

Where the hell would he find his convenient bride?

Two

The cool silk of the dress caressed Natalie’s bare skin as she inched forward in line. She winced at the reminder that a slip of fabric was all that stood between the world and her rear end. Sighing, she crossed “going commando” off her bucket list.

“You. Lady in red.”

When no one stepped up, she craned her neck to peer behind her. Maybe the bouncer meant the blonde in hot pink? After three seconds, Natalie realized he meant her.

“Come on through, gorgeous.” His smirk was a tooth short of a leer.

According to her internet research, Le Rêve’s Hulk look-alike bouncers upheld the less-is-more philosophy. Her dress was definitely less. The strap of her scarlet mini flowed into a bodice that exposed a third of her right breast, and the back of her dress... Well, there wasn’t one. Natalie didn’t recognize herself in the mirror, especially with her dramatic eye makeup, but she couldn’t afford to be modest. Getting in mattered too much, especially as it was a Friday night and everyone was dressed to kill.

Forcing a smile, she sashayed past Hulk Number One and ascended the steep staircase in her four-inch stilettos. Natalie reached the top without falling on her face or mooning the crowd. Yes-s-s. She pulled back her elbow in a discreet fist pump.

Lily Davis had called at 4:00 a.m., sobbing and hiccupping a jumble of words, including “Sophie,” “high fever” and “vomiting.” Natalie had instructed Sophie’s grandparents to take the baby to the nearest emergency room from their hotel and rushed over to meet them. By the time the doctor explained that it was a twenty-four-hour virus a lukewarm bath would’ve eased, she’d missed her interview for the VP position.

Stupid rookie mistake. She should’ve researched the symptoms online instead of panicking like that. But the damage was done. Natalie had no luck rescheduling her interview. The hiring committee had decided staying with her sick niece in the ER rather than showing up for the interview proved she lacked the commitment for an executive position. They’d waved aside her explanation as though she was making a my-dog-ate-my-homework excuse. She gritted her teeth at the unfairness.

What had happened this morning could ruin the one chance she had at adopting Sophie. But it wasn’t over yet. It couldn’t be over. Garrett Song was the future CEO of Hansol. Surely, he could convince the hiring committee to give her a second chance. Ambushing him at a nightclub wasn’t the most professional move, but she had run out of options.

According to his calendar, he was having a business meeting at the club, which also meant there was a good chance of his leaving for a business trip the next day. This might be the last chance she had to talk to him face-to-face for a few weeks. There was no time to waste, so Natalie had resorted to desperate measures.

Squaring her shoulders, she ventured deeper into foreign territory. Her lips parted at the sight of beautiful people writhing and rocking to the DJ’s mixes. They made sweaty, drunk and horny look attractive. The blinking strobe lights and reverberating bass pulsed in rhythm with her jackhammering heart. Natalie unclenched her clammy fists. Just find him, ask him and leave.

But first, she needed liquid courage.

Icy blue accent lights slashed artfully across the circular bar, its central column of spirits reaching high to the distant ceiling. How in the world could they get those bottles down?

Natalie shook her head to rein in her wandering thoughts, then froze. She’d spent an hour taming her black curls, but they were already straining against the five hundred bobby pins holding them down. She had half an hour, tops, before she turned into Medusa. At the hottest club on Melrose. That’s just swell.

Hustling through a tiny space between revelers, she managed to snag a stool, then waved for a bartender. A boyish mixologist with tattoos hugging his biceps gave her a nod and a wink, as he performed a hair-raising cocktail stunt involving two jiggers and a tumbler for another customer. After all the juggling and shaking, the pink liquid he finally poured into the martini glass was underwhelming. Even the fresh mint and cucumber garnish—added with a flourish—couldn’t save it.

When Biceps made his way over to her, she took a deep breath and broke his heart. “Double Scotch. Neat.”

“Any particular brand?” he asked, pouting at the sheer uncoolness of her order.

“Bowmore. Twenty-five years old.”

“Nice.” His eyebrows drew up and he flashed a grin. “A beautiful woman who knows her whiskey.”

She smiled back, glad she’d dodged the showman’s bullet, but her relief was short-lived.

“Power up!” he hollered.

“Power up!” his compatriots echoed.

A few customers clapped excitedly as a small skateboard-like contraption with handlebars zoomed around the liquor column on hidden tracks and stopped where Biceps waited. He stepped on and secured a harness around his waist, becoming the center of attention as he spiraled upward. Grasping the bottle of Bowmore from the top of the column, he descended like a rock star.

By the time he handed her the Scotch, her cheeks were burning and she seriously considered hiding under the bar. It was bad enough being at a club, not wearing much at all, without a bunch of strangers staring at her.

Forcing herself to relax, she took a long sip. The whiskey caressed her throat and kindled a fire in her stomach. She closed her eyes and smiled at the simple pleasure. When she opened them again, Biceps was standing in front of her, sporting an odd gape-mouthed look. Then, sudden realization flamed her cheeks.

“Oh, jeez. I’m so sorry.” She hurriedly grabbed her credit card from her clutch and handed it to him. “Here you go. Thank you.”

Looking a little embarrassed, he enveloped her outstretched hand in his. “The drink’s on me, beautiful.”

“That won’t be—”

“My name’s Kenny and I get off in three hours. Can you stick around?” His lips curled into a boyish smile. It was only when his gaze lingered on her cleavage she realized he was hitting on her.

“I can’t, um... I...” Natalie had no idea what to do. She wasn’t used to getting hit on at a bar.

“Thanks, Kenny,” a deep voice rumbled behind her. “I got this.”

Natalie stiffened in her seat as the hair on her arms stood on tiptoe and a shiver ran down her spine. The deep, rich voice did strange things to her body, but she wasn’t sure she approved of the stranger’s high-handedness. Either way, she couldn’t face him until she reined in her galloping pulse, so she downed the Scotch in a single tilt.

“As a matter of fact, why don’t you put her drink on my tab?” A strong, long-fingered hand passed a hundred-dollar bill to Kenny, who dropped her hand and accepted the tip with a grudging shrug, bowing out to the alpha.

Okay. She definitely did not like that. Natalie spun around to give the arrogant stranger a verbal ass kicking, but the sharp challenge froze and died a quiet death on her lips.

The stranger with the sexy voice was none other than Garrett Song, and he was even more magnificent outside of the office. He was closer than she’d thought—only a few inches separated them when their gazes collided. The amusement flickered out of his eyes and a charged silence tightened around them.

Natalie vaguely heard Kenny’s curt “two double Scotch, neat,” but she remained fixated on Garrett’s jet-black hair, strong jawline and full lips. And my, oh, my, those fiery eyes. Her gaze flitted down to his broad shoulders, chest and long, muscular legs. The conservative dress shirt and slacks couldn’t hide the power of his body.

Her heart fluttered like a dragonfly taking flight under his insolent perusal. His face didn’t register a hint of recognition, which wasn’t surprising. Natalie didn’t resemble the woman he’d seen at work.

Natalie drained her second drink without breaking eye contact. She uncrossed her legs and slid off her seat, her calf accidentally grazing the side of his body. She was about his height in her four-inch heels, so they faced each other squarely. His heat embraced her, and his masculine scent, like an autumn wind, beckoned her closer.

She couldn’t follow her instincts to climb her boss like a tree even if her inner thighs were slick with desire. She would act professionally. Natalie would state her business and not take no for an answer. She opened her mouth but promptly closed it shut.

Apparently, she’d forgotten how to speak.

Garrett was lost from the moment she swiveled in her seat.

She had glided into the club as he was leaving. Then his legs had brought him to her without his permission. Her sculpted body was meant to bring men to their knees. And her dress seemed like it had been painted onto her lush curves.

The sight of her made him weak with lust, but her air of vulnerability made him want to shield her from other hungry eyes. His fervent urge to possess and protect the woman tripped all kinds of alarms in his head, but his brain had decided to take an inopportune hiatus.

“Dance with me,” he said.

Her eyes widened and his pulse quickened in anticipation. She looked familiar but he wouldn’t forget a woman like her if he’d met her before. He held out his hand and she stared at it, her head cocked like a curious bird. After a pause, she placed her hand in his. It was warm, smooth and delicate. The thrill of their connection gripped him by the shoulders and shook him alert.

As their feet touched the dance floor, Garrett wrapped his arm around her waist, cradling her right hand against his chest. They swayed softly to the music while the crowd gyrated around them. He brushed his fingertips against her bare back. Her skin was like warm silk. As a gnawing hunger filled him to the brim, Garrett laid his palm on her lower back and pressed her body flush against his. A tremor ran through her.

God, she feels so good. He struggled to make sense of her—the stark contrast between innocent wide eyes and a body that radiated raw sensuality.

“Who are you?” he rasped.

Her eyelids fluttered at his question as though he had awakened her from a dream. She shook her head briskly and a veil shifted across her face. Suddenly, he recognized her and his arms fell to his sides.

“You...you really don’t know who I am?” she said, unease crossing her lovely features.

That thrill. He’d only felt it once before, and he belatedly realized this was the same woman who’d made him feel it the first time.

Was her voice this velvety when she barged into my office?

“Should I know you?” He stalled to figure out what her game was.

Samantha had been his first lesson in gold diggers, but she certainly hadn’t been his last. Naturally, Garrett considered himself something of an expert on the issue, and Natalie Sobol didn’t fit the profile. He trusted and respected her. She had backbone and integrity, which made her damn good at her job. Even so, she must’ve orchestrated their run-in to get something out of him.

“I’m...” She cleared her throat and drew back her shoulders. Regrettably for him, the small adjustment managed to thrust her glorious breasts forward, nearly derailing his focus. “It’s Natalie Sobol, Mr. Song.”

“Call me Garrett,” he said, leading her by the arm to the relative privacy of the outdoor balcony. “While we’re getting familiar, care to tell me what you’re up to?”

He couldn’t make out her expression in the moonlight, but he heard a sharp intake of breath. To his surprise, she didn’t pretend their run-in was a coincidence.

“I came here to ask you for a second chance.” She spoke quietly, but her words carried the weight of determination.

“A second chance at what?”

“VP of Human Resources. I missed my interview because of a family emergency, but I’m confident I could do the job better than anyone else.”

So that was her game. His lips twisted. “How do you suppose I fit into that?”

“Please. All I ask for is a chance to get my interview. You’ll soon be our new CEO. The hiring committee would listen to your request.” She swallowed, hesitating for a second. “Please believe me when I say I would never dream of imposing on you like this if I had any other choice. I need that job.”

She was good. He’d long outgrown any disappointment at being used for his money or connections. But he almost believed this woman. Sympathized with her. Garrett hadn’t allowed anyone to manipulate his emotions since Samantha, and his brief slip infuriated him. It made him want to test her.

“And are you offering something in return?” He didn’t bother disguising his disdain.

She gasped and her hands clenched into fists. He watched through hooded lids as pride, anger and mortification splashed across her features. Then, she breathed slowly through her nose before replying in measured tones.

“I’m offering to be the best VP of Human Resources Hansol has ever had.” She arched an eyebrow in cold challenge. “Do I need to offer anything beyond that?”

When he didn’t respond right away, Natalie turned her back on him and strode toward the door with the poise and dignity of a queen. Damn it. He caught up with her and grasped her arm, trying not to notice her warmth.

“Wait.”

It was true. She was a perfect fit for the position, especially with her experience as the interim VP. She wouldn’t have needed his help if she hadn’t missed her interview. Maybe he’d misread her. It was difficult to think with so much of his blood pumping away from his brain.

“Are you willing to consider my request?” Her tone was clipped, but at least she was talking to him.

He understood the hiring committee’s refusal to reschedule her interview—reliability was the bare minimum requirement for an executive position—but Garrett respected her decision to put her family before her promotion. He was only too familiar with putting his family ahead of his own needs.

Garrett froze. It couldn’t have been more than a few hours since his declaration of independence. What if the key to his freedom stood in front of him? Natalie’s appearance was timely enough to be eerie. She was intelligent, pragmatic and desperate—maybe even desperate enough to accept his unconventional proposal.

“Yes, and you can help me in return.”

“You need my help?” Her eyes widened in surprise, but not alarm. He was gratified she didn’t jump to an unsavory conclusion despite his earlier brutishness.

Garrett scanned their surroundings. They had some privacy in their corner of the patio, but a popular nightclub wasn’t the place for a lengthy discussion of his plans.

“I need a wife.”

“You want me to find you a wife?” Her eyebrows scrunched together as though she was struggling to untangle an intricate knot.

“No. I want you to be my wife.”

Her eyes grew impossibly wide, and he was struck once more by her alluring beauty. Her contrasting layers—demure and sizzling, uptight and witty—intrigued him. She was intoxicating. But for this arrangement to work, he couldn’t go there. Something told him sex would mean more than an enjoyable pastime to Natalie Sobol, and messy emotional entanglements could make even the most rational people reckless. No matter how tempting, she was off-limits.

“In exchange for getting me an interview?” she asked.

“You won’t need one. The job is yours if you accept my offer.”

“I don’t need you to hand me the position.” She lifted her chin, narrowing her eyes at him. “I could get it on my own if I get my interview.”

“I wouldn’t hand you the job if you weren’t qualified. Why don’t we say your performance as the interim VP was your interview and you passed?”

“I could have the job? Just like that?” She arched an elegant brow, communicating both her skepticism and distaste.

“If you marry me as soon as the wedding can be arranged, I’ll promote you to the position at the end of the year.” She did a poor job of hiding her eye roll, and Garrett rushed to clarify. “The marriage obviously won’t be permanent.”

“Obviously.” Her expression told him none of it was obvious. “Just out of curiosity, how long is not permanent?”

“Good question.” Garrett hadn’t thought through the details, but it had to last long enough to convince his grandmother that the marriage was real. But, most importantly, it had to last until he closed the Vivotex partnership and was appointed as the new CEO. It will happen. It has to. His grandmother had been grooming him for the position since the day he was born. It was her greatest wish to see him become Hansol’s CEO. Once he sealed the Vivotex deal, she could give in without losing face. “About seven to eight months until your new position opens up. Perhaps a few months longer. But definitely no more than a year.”

Natalie sighed deeply, and raised her eyes to the night sky. “Why?”

“It involves a sensitive and complicated family issue.” She deserved to know everything about his unorthodox proposal, but not here. “I trust you’ll keep this conversation confidential until we can discuss the details somewhere more private.”

“Anything else?” She met his gaze, but her voice sounded distant and tired.

“You have the key facts,” he said, tension edging into his words. “Will you marry me?”

She stared back at him for a few seconds then shook her head. “That’s probably the worst proposal ever made. Like catastrophically bad.”

A bark of surprised laughter escaped him. “You’re probably right, but this is the most efficient and effective solution to both of our problems. If—”

She held up her hand to stop his words, and he obeyed her silent command out of shock. He was accustomed to deference from executives twice his age. He long admired her strength and confidence but being on the receiving end of her imperious attitude was startling.

“This scheme of yours is beyond ludicrous.” She heaved a ponderous sigh, making the milky mounds of her breasts rise and fall. It took Herculean effort to keep his eyes focused on her face. “But I’m desperate enough to consider it.”

“Good call,” he said with equal parts irritation and relief. To his chagrin, her reluctant not-quite-assent stung his ego, but his rational side was relieved she would even consider his preposterous proposal. Natalie Sobol was practical to a fault, but this time it worked in his favor.

“I highly doubt that,” she said with a quirk of her red lips.

Of course she did. The more she thought about it, the more dubious everything would seem. He couldn’t give her too much time to think things through. “Given this is a time-sensitive situation, you have until tomorrow at midnight to give me an answer.”

“Tomorrow? You’re impossible.” With an exasperated glare, she spun away and stalked toward the staircase inside. His mouth curved into a grin. He’d spiked the ball into her court and she wasn’t the kind of person who would back down from a challenge. He was looking forward to her next move. Before he could turn away, the sight of her softly swaying hips recaptured his attention and his smirk morphed into slack-mouthed admiration.

When she disappeared from sight, Garrett leaned against the railing and frowned at the starless sky. Why is she so desperate that she’d consider giving up a year of her life for a second chance at a promotion?