She folded her arms. “I don’t know—take care of yourself like every other man, maybe?” She released one arm to sort of flap toward his crotch before trapping it again with a blush.

“That’s hardly the same.” His eyes flickered to her cleavage. The woman had incredible breasts. He’d noticed before, but now the desire to touch them tugged at him with increasing urgency.

“Are you saying you can’t go for even a short period of time without … without…” She circled her hand in the air as if she couldn’t bring herself to speak out loud what they were both so clearly talking about.

It was adorable. She couldn’t say the words.

Well, he could say it. “Without sex?” He couldn’t stop the smile from forming on his lips when a shiver ran through her at the word. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

She opened and closed her mouth several times.

Good. He had her flustered.

Finally, she recovered enough to ask, “How the hell is this bride-seeking supposed to work then?”

“I see your concern.” He pursed his lips, pretending to consider. This was his chance to bring the conversation around to where he’d intended it to go in the first place. “Perhaps, if my needs were met another way…” Would she understand where he was going?

“Like with your hand?”

No, she didn’t understand. “That’s not what I was suggesting.” The conversation alone had his pants feeling tighter. Imagine how turned on he’d be if she agreed? He hadn’t realized how completely into her he was until he gave himself permission to pursue it. Now all he needed was her acquiescence. His pulse quickened in anticipation.

“What were you suggest—” Her face suddenly flushed crimson as her eyes widened with comprehension. “Wait. Are you suggesting that I sleep with you?”

“Sleeping really isn’t necessary.”

“Oh, my God.” Her hand flew to her mouth. “You can’t be serious. Oh, my God, you are.”

“You don’t need to say it as if it’s such a repulsive idea.” Despite her words, he could sense she was considering it. Desire once again clouded her eyes and her breathing had grown shallow, as if she were excited by the thought.

And that only excited him more.

Still she protested. “Are you kidding me? It’s absolutely repulsive. You want to sleep with me—”

“Not sleep,” he corrected.

“Fine, not sleep with me so that you won’t have the urge to come on to the women that you’re dating in the hope of finding a wife?” She let her question hang in the air a moment. “Do you hear how disgusting that sounds?”

He shoved his hands in his trouser pockets. “No, actually, I don’t.”

“Blake!”

All right, maybe it sounded a bit untoward, but his true intentions weren’t awful. Maybe he should have approached it another way. Or not at all. Now what should he do? He rarely was in the position of second-guessing himself. It was unusual and uncomfortable. He wished he could erase the last two minutes. “Forget I said anything.”

“It’s forgotten.” Andy sank into her chair. Only a matter of seconds passed before her expression blazed again. “How the hell am I supposed to forget that?”

Blake closed his eyes for a moment. He himself had a feeling it would be difficult to forget her blatant rejection. He threw a dismissive hand in the air. “It was merely a suggestion. You had a complaint. You asked how to fix it. That’s what I came up with.”

Andy shook her head repeatedly. “You’re impossible, Blake Donovan.”

“Well, you aren’t so possible yourself.” He turned on his heels and headed back to his desk.

“Like that’s supposed to be an insult?” Her voice trailed after him.

She could never let him have the last word, could she? “It’s … I don’t know what it was supposed to be.” He sat in his chair and deeply inhaled to gather his thoughts. He had a feeling an apology was due, and he wasn’t very good with those. “I’m … I’m sorry, okay?”

Her eyes narrowed. “For sleeping with your dates or propositioning me?”

“Both.” Neither, really. Because he hadn’t slept with any of his dates and he wasn’t sorry for propositioning her. He was sorry he hadn’t done a better job of it. He was sorry she hadn’t agreed.

She sighed. “It’s fine. I guess. Don’t do it again. Can you manage that?”

Considering that he hadn’t done the one thing in the first place, he was sure it wouldn’t be a problem. The other thing, though—he had a feeling that his attraction to Andrea Dawson was nowhere near over. He couldn’t promise he wouldn’t make another move. So he answered simply, “I’ll try.”

“It has to be more than try if you want me to agree to stay.”

She was seriously maddening. “I’ll manage then.” Across the room, he locked his gaze with hers. Even with the yards between them, her eyes pulled at him, pierced through him, as if they saw him in a way that no one ever had. He was nearly moved to go to her, to pull her into his arms, and kiss the hell out of her.

But considering she’d just blatantly shot him down, a kiss was probably a bad move. Instead he reached for her with words. “Please, don’t quit.” He couldn’t remember the last time he’d pleaded with someone so sincerely. It made him feel both vulnerable and free at the same time. Their eye contact never broke. It reminded him of the moment they had shared during her interview, the point even then when he knew he was in over his head. This girl rattled him to his core, and he thought she knew it as she watched his eyes beg her.

Drea’s expression softened, almost as though she realized how significant his statement had been. “Good. Then I’ll stay.”

They held their stare for several seconds, until the air felt warm and Blake had the urge to take off his jacket, but didn’t dare move for fear of ruining the moment. As if he could convince her to stay through the sheer force of will and eye contact. If she didn’t understand how much he wanted her here, it wouldn’t be for lack of him showing her. If the eyes were the windows to the soul, his was on display.

It was Andrea who broke the connection. She leaned down to return her purse to its place. “And you owe me a bonus, you know. Several bonuses, in fact. Don’t forget that our original deal stated I’d get compensated for how a relationship progressed emotionally or physically. Physically, Blake. You owe me.”

He’d pay her anything she asked, even if the stipend was based on a lie. Whatever he had to do to keep her near.

*   *   *

Unbelievable. Un-fucking-believable.

Andy couldn’t believe that he’d actually suggested that … that … that she should have sex with him.

She was mortified—the major component of that mortification being that she’d actually considered it. Disgusting. How on earth could any decent person spend a single second entertaining the idea that Blake “Inside-Ugly” Donovan was attractive? He was so inside-ugly that it seeped out through his hatefully perfect pores.

Okay, maybe it didn’t, but it should. He was too hot for his own good. So insanely gorgeous that her insides fluttered every time she looked his way. Even after his ridiculous proposition, the flutters remained. They were heightened, in fact, but now they were accompanied with revulsion. Revulsion mainly with herself, but she clung to it. It worked to keep her hormones in check—thank God—because she’d been dangerously close to agreeing to his devil’s bargain. Especially after that stare-down. He’d looked honestly desperate for her. It made her warring bits actually want to reconcile.

At least the rational bit of Andy had won that little conscience-cage match. No! If you sleep with him, you’ll be out of a job in about a day and a half flat. You know how he is with girls he sleeps with.

Although the horny, teenage girl part of her had put up a decent fight. Remember how he kisses? Imagine what else he can do with that mouth! Just the one time. Or seven. Then he’ll be satisfied, you can insist on his quick marriage to Cynthia, and you’ll leave with a hefty bonus and a glowing reference.