Tempting. Overwhelmingly tempting. More tempting than it should be.

It was like the battle of the angel and the devil on her shoulders, and the angel’s rationalization was barely heard over Andy’s rapidly beating heart and the whoosh sounding through her ears.

But then Big Girl Andy grabbed a megaphone and trumpeted above all the other noise. He does not respect women. The second you jump into his bed, you confirm everything he thinks he knows about them. You won’t get the bonus, or the reference, and quite likely not the orgasm, either. He’s too selfish to satisfy you first.

With that her mind was made up.

Unfortunately.

Though she hadn’t actually said no. It was Blake who withdrew his offer. If he hadn’t, would the desire surging through her veins have won?

It didn’t matter now. The conversation was over. But it was far from forgotten.

Sitting at her desk now, the idea played over and over through her imagination in vivid detail. Blake, running that sharp tongue of his, down her neck. Blake, drenched in sweat as he hovered over her. Blake, pushing in and …

No, no, no. She had to stop this. For God’s sake, he was sitting across the room. What if he could tell what she was thinking? Surely her flushed cheeks were a good indication of the dirty movie playing in her mind.

Andy scrubbed her hands over her face and attempted to concentrate on the horrid situation that had led to his proposition in the first place: Blake had been sleeping with his dates. Oh, whoops, not sleeping. Sexing them up. Giving them a good time. Introducing them to the other Mr. Donovan.

Since she’d turned him down, did that mean he’d continue to be unable to control himself? At this rate, he was going to burn through every potential candidate in Boston before the year was up. I’ll be forced to mail-order dates from Ukraine. Did the man even want to get married? Sure didn’t seem like it.

So what does he want?

That one sat her back on her figurative heels. What did he want? She knew the reasons he’d spouted off to her, but none of them seemed particularly genuine. They sounded rote, things he thought he should say and so did. But the look on his face, that seemed as real as anything she’d ever seen from him.

“Blake?” she ventured, even though she could see from the set of his jaw that he wasn’t super interested in talking to her right now. Well, she’d forced an actual apology from him—he was probably licking his wounds.

“Yes?” His expression, when he looked up at her, was actually open. Maybe he was just tense from all the drama of the morning. Maybe she was a hack who had no idea how to read anyone. Who knew anymore?

She sat back in her chair. “We’ve never talked about what happens beyond the wedding, and subsequent rewriting of your will.”

“What’s to discuss? It’s done and then it’s done.” His eyes were full of genuine confusion.

There it was, then. He wants a wife because it’s what he thinks he should do. She was certain that just as he had no idea how to treat a date, he had no idea what made a successful marriage.

Well, that had to be addressed. She searched for terms he could understand. “When you form a merger with another company, does it end at the contract signing?”

“Hm. I see where you’re going with this. Obviously not. The signature is only the beginning. What sort of … maintenance … does a marriage require?” The puzzlement was fading into intense concentration. For all his faults, Blake certainly always liked to be the best at everything. Maybe she could train him into a decent husband after all. If only he’d kept the damn pup, they’d be going through obedience school together.

She stifled a grin and started to educate her clueless boss. “There will be an obvious restructuring, just as you would do with a company you take over. In that case, it’s purely clinical. In this case, there will be emotions involved. Deciding whose home to live in—”

“Mine.”

She went on as if he hadn’t interrupted. “There’s the question of whose things—how do you merge two households’ worth of furniture and household goods and kitchen appliances and books and—”

“We keep mine.”

“Blake. This is exactly what I am talking about.” She rolled her neck, trying to release the new layer of tension that was building. “If you treat your wife—her things, her life without you—this callously, she’ll have that sucker annulled before you even consummate it. It doesn’t matter how submissive a girl you end up with, you cannot treat her like an acquisition. At least, not to her face.”

“But I’m being logical. My future wife needs to be logical.” He pointed at her open notebook. “Write that down. It’s a new requirement.”

Andy was going to lose her temper. Again. “Logic has nothing to do with it. You have to compromise. Marriage is a series of compromises. You live in your house? Fine. But she gets to put her pictures on the walls. Keep your furniture? She gets to buy new bedding. It’s give-and-take. How do you not know this? Don’t you have any married friends?”

The puzzlement crept on his face again. “I know a lot of married people, yes. From work. I don’t really have a social circle.”

Of course. Of course he didn’t have any friends. Where would he fit them into his busy schedule of working, working, cruising, not sleeping, and working some more? Business dinners were probably his only real social outlet.

Andy felt inexplicably sad at this revelation. Everyone needed friends.

Granted, she didn’t have a ton herself, but at the very least she had Lacy. Always Lacy. Someone to celebrate her successes with, to help her pick up the pieces when things went to shit, someone to talk to at three in the morning about absolutely nothing—Oh, God. Lacy is my wife!

Note to self: Make more friends.

Perhaps friend number one should be Blake.

No, that was going a bit too far. But she could at least continue with the friendly advice. “Well. It’s likely that your business associates wouldn’t discuss the finer points of the most complex relationship in their lives with you.”

“Oh, I’ve heard plenty about them.” He pushed his keyboard away and directed his full attention to Andy. “We have a few too many drinks, and then someone pulls out a cigar and they all complain. That’s why I specified someone submissive. All my associates’ troubles seem to come down to overly assertive women trying power plays on the home front. If my wife understands that I am the head of the household, we’ll avoid all of that.”

“I don’t even think you’re kidding right now. Good grief, Blake.” Andy had no idea how to argue with that. Because the thing was, that was logical. Only it made no sense in the real world. And someone who didn’t seem to be capable of empathy wasn’t going to understand her objection to this. I am earning this freaking paycheck, for sure.

“Look, Andrea. I know you mean well, but I don’t see you in a successful marriage, either. So you do things your way, and I’ll do things mine.” The condescension in his tone killed whatever ridiculous sadness she’d felt over his earlier disclosure.

Never in her life had she gone through so many emotions in one day. And every day since she took the job was like this. Beyond exhausting. She was taking her final bonus on a tropical vacation when this was over. If it ever ended.

“Just remember me when you’ve been divorced and need to find a new wife.” Andy pouted for a minute. She had to find a way to make him let her in. Otherwise he was going to sabotage every date he went on until he eventually decided she was to blame.

And not just because of that, or even that it was her job to find a good match, but because it seemed like the right thing to do. It was the closest friend thing she could do without assuming the title.