Free The Fix Up by Kendall Ryan

even noticed. Maybe he silently kept tabs on me like I did on him.
    “We broke up about six months ago. He took off.” With my heart, my wallet, and my good credit score.
    “And there’s been no one since then?” Sterling asks.
    I shake my head. “I haven’t had the slightest interest in dating.” Until you.
    “Same here,” he says.
    “But now you have to get married.”
    “Seems that way.” He rubs the back of his neck again, which I’m coming to recognize as something he does when he’s anxious.
    “Why are you doing this, really? You’re a successful attorney. I’m sure you make a comfortable living.”
    He lets out a deep sigh. “Come inside with me.”
    We move inside, carrying the stacks of dishes and our wineglasses. We set the dishes in the kitchen and take our glasses to the couch.
    His living room is masculine, yet inviting. A navy sofa in tweed fabric sits facing the large windows, and a leather armchair and small table made of steel round out the other side of the room. His coffee table is a large rustic crate that’s been overturned.
    We’re sitting side by side on the couch when Sterling takes my wineglass from my hand and sets it on the table next to his.
    He’s quiet, contemplative, and I wonder what he’s thinking about.
    I realize it in that moment—we’re all struggling to find something true. True affection. True intimacy. True love. A shot at something real in this life. And Sterling and I share that desire. He might deny it, might say that he’s jaded on the idea of marriage and that he’s doing this for the money, but I can see it when I look into his eyes, can feel it when he smiles at me. He wants something true as badly as I do. He needs it, maybe even more than I do.
    “I know this probably seems strange to you, me going through with this cocked-up plan to marry.”
    I swallow and shake my head. I won’t judge him; there’s a lot of freaking money on the line.
    “But you have to trust me that I have my reasons. It’s not all about the money. Well, it sort of is.” He rubs the back of his neck again. “I just need this to work.”
    I take his hand. “You don’t have to explain anything to me. I told you I’ll help, and I meant it.” A giggle forces its way up my throat. “Just consider tonight me testing your ability to woo a woman.”
    His smile is amused. “And did I woo you, Miss Palmer?” He’s still holding my hand, and when he strokes the back of it with his thumb, tingles of awareness spiral through me.
    I’m practically dizzy with the electricity that’s been humming between us all evening. He’s intoxicatingly attractive, and the lines between professionalism and pleasure have become irrevocably blurred. There should be miles between work friends and fuck buddies, but with Sterling this close, with his subtle, spicy cologne and his deep blue eyes gazing into mine, everything is fuzzy.
    “You get an A-plus in the wooing department, Mr. Quinn,” I whisper as Sterling draws near.
    “We should probably test out how I kiss. You know, for research purposes,” he murmurs.
    A warm shudder passes through me. Dear God, could he get any sexier? If he suggested I test out how he fucked, would I even have the strength to say no?
    His hands are on my jaw, and he tilts my mouth up to meet his. In that split second, I know I could pull away if I wanted to, but I don’t. My eyes drift closed just as his warm, full lips press softly against mine. When he sucks lightly on my bottom lip, I open to him. Then, so slowly it makes me ache, he brushes his tongue against mine.
    Holy shit.
    The.
    Man.
    Can.
    Kiss.
    In fact, every kiss I’ve had since my first in eighth grade pales in comparison.
    Tender. Sensual. Soft. Urgent. His kiss is all of those things at once. And more.
    He holds my jaw with one hand while the other trails down the front of my deep V-neck sweater. Careful to avoid my breasts, which ache for his touch, he lightly trails his fingertips along the