Troping Through the Snow by Alexa Riley

“Or,” I say as my thoughts begin to move quickly, “what if there was a way for us to have both?”

“What do you mean?” The firelight glows against her skin, and I move a little closer.

“Just what I said. What if there was a way to keep women from coming in and out of my office or cornering me at city functions? What if there was a way for you to be financially secure just with a stroke of a pen?”

She pretends to look around and then laughs. “I’m sorry, sir, but I have no idea what you’re implying.”

There she goes with that “sir” thing again, and all it does is make me want her more. “What if we get married?”

“You and me?” She points between us, and her smile slowly falls. “Are you serious right now?”

“Why not?” I pretend to lean back casually and play it cool. “I’ve got money set aside, and I’m willing to pay for your time. No strings attached. You give me your hand in marriage and you can name your price.”

“You’re so willing to marry anyone, just like that?” Now there’s a cut to her voice and I sit up, trying to backtrack.

“Joy, you know me better than anyone, even more than my sister or my best friend. You’re the person I spend the most time with, and I never get tired of being with you. We’re already together all day every day—why not sign a piece of paper making it official?”

She bites her bottom lip as she seems to think it over. “This sounds crazy.”

“It does.” I laugh. “But it also makes a lot of sense. I’ve always been a rule follower and done what everyone has expected of me. This might be the craziest thing I’ve ever come up with, but at the same time, I’ve never been more sure.”

“Would I have to live with you?” She’s asking more questions, so I might just have her on the hook.

“Yes, but my place is big enough that you can have your own rooms.” I don’t mention that she could also have mine.

“Would we tell people?”

“I wouldn’t want to hide it.” The thought of lying about Joy being my wife makes a flash of anger slide through me.

She’s quiet for a long moment, and I can practically hear her thinking it over. “But what about chemistry?” The question is soft, but it’s loud enough for me to understand what she’s asking.

“You think people won’t believe it?”

“I mean, yeah.” She looks between us and then waves a hand at herself. “What if being together is awkward and awful? How would we convince anyone this is real and solve your problem of being hit on?”

“Well,” I say as I move a little closer, “we could always make love and see if we’re compatible.”





CHAPTER 5





JOY





There’s no way that he said we should have sex. No, wait—he said make love. He wants to see if we’re compatible for marriage, but what happened to separate rooms?

North leans in closer, and it’s the same way when he comes up behind my chair while I’m sitting at my desk. He’ll brush against my shoulder a few times each day, and I always get this thrill of excitement when it happens. Which should really show how lame I am because I’m getting a thrill over the slightest contact.

Only this time it’s different because he’s facing me, and his mouth is so close to mine. If I tilted my chin up only a smidge, our mouths would touch. He’s offering himself up on a silver platter, and he’s waiting to see if I’ll take it. His logic makes as much sense as it doesn’t. Especially if he really isn’t seeing anyone else.

I wasn’t sure if he was truly single even though I’ve never seen him with anyone. I thought maybe he had someone he saw from time to time that wasn’t from here. It’s possible because the man is fine, and I don’t see him going without. Not with the way women throw themselves at him. Then again, he hates when they do that. He has his pick of women, but instead he wants a fake marriage with me. Why not have a real one? Maybe no one in Troping appeals to him, which I can understand to a degree. No one does for me either, except him.

“But you hate my boots.” Oh god, is that really what I just said? North’s lips twitch into a half smile.

“I think your boots are perfect and practical, but you won’t need them for this.”

“Right,” I agree as my eyes bounce back and forth between him and his mouth. “Because we’ll be naked.” This time, he actually laughs. Why do I say the worst stuff? Of course we’ll be naked. “I mean, sometimes people don’t get completely naked when they have sex.” Right? I’ve read it in books and seen it in movies.

“I want you completely naked, Joy.”

“I only get naked in the shower,” I blurt out. If I don’t stop talking, I’m going to throw myself into this fire.

“Most people do.” He’s smiling as he leans the rest of the way in and presses his lips against mine.

I sit there unmoving as Mayor North kisses me because shock has rendered me unmoving.

“Open for me,” he says between kisses. “Let me in. I’m dying to know if you taste as sweet as you smell.”

His tongue glides across the seam of my lips, and I let out a small gasp. I’m not sure if it’s because of his words or the feel of his tongue against my lips, but he lets himself right in.