A Not-So-Indecent Proposal Page 3

  “I used to live on the stuff when I lived in the neighborhood. Nothing better than a good, greasy pizza.” As though to punctuate his statement, Spencer’s stomach growled. Loudly. Which made them both laugh.

  “I’d ask why you ducked out early, but clearly it’s so you can feed yourself.”

  “I’m a beast when I’m hungry,” Spencer agreed. “So what about you?” he asked. “Young guy like you should be out on a Friday night. Take advantage of youth and beauty while you can.” The wink he added sent a warm tingle through Bram. “Before you know it, you’re a hop, skip, and a tumble away from forty.”

  “You are not forty years old!”

  “Not yet, but two years will fly by in a heartbeat.”

  Bram had known there were a few years between them, but not that many.

  “But you’re so—”

  “Youthful?” Spencer threw out at the same time Bram finished his sentence with, “Hot.”

  Bram stared straight ahead. His mouth and brain were on different schedules once again and one wasn’t listening to the other. Maybe that third beer wasn’t such a great idea.

  “Well, yeah. Youthful for sure,” he carried on as though he hadn’t just blurted out exactly what he’d been thinking. “Besides, thirty-eight is hardly ancient. I’m sure you have a few more good years in you,” he teased. Was he really joking like this with Spencer Kemp? If he didn’t know any better, he’d call it flirting. But that couldn’t be right. He sucked at flirting.

  Spencer kept his attention on the road, but there was a delighted twinkle in his eye. “You think I’m hot?” he asked as though butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth.

  Warmth flushed Bram’s face. “Definitely,” he admitted. Then immediately regretted saying so. You work for him, dummy. “Anyway,” he said, pivoting back to Spencer’s previous question. “I hope they don’t mind me not tagging along. I’d love to have joined them, but my roommate is already fronting me cash for my share of this month’s rent, so it would be a bit of a dick move if I went out drinking.”

  “Fair enough.” Spencer pulled up in front of Bram’s building. “This is you,” he said softly. The faint scent of his aftershave delicately teased. And the dim streetlamp cast a subtle glow across his face. The combination was intoxicating, convincing Bram he was far braver (and maybe just a bit more stupid) than usual.

  “Thanks for the ride.” His voice sounded like someone else’s. Someone who was still the slightest bit high on the good news that’d been handed to him over the past few days.

  Before his good sense talked him out of it, Bram leaned across and kissed Spencer full on the mouth. It was hardly a kiss at all, just lips pressed together lightly. Spencer barely moved.

  Until he did.

  Thinking he’d read the man entirely wrong, Bram delighted when Spencer grabbed his collar and pulled him in closer. Now it was a kiss. Their breath intermingled hotly. And the slight rasp of Spencer’s beard deliciously tickled Bram’s face. Spencer’s breathing hitched. His fingers tightened on Bram’s lapel.

  Bram took the hint, tracing just the tip of his tongue across Spencer’s bottom lip. He did it again with a bit more intent, and Spencer opened his mouth in invitation. Bram couldn’t help the tiny moan that escaped his mouth. It was barely audible, but it was enough for Spencer to stop what he was doing and sit back in his seat.

  Ice-cold water being dumped on his head would have felt better. “I should…” Bram pressed his lips together. “I should get going,” he finally said. “Thanks again for the ride.”

  “My pleasure,” Spencer said as Bram leapt from the car.

  ****

  Monday morning arrived quickly. Bram still needed to pack up his meager belongings and cart them downstairs to his new permanent position. Everything he had fit neatly into a small banker’s box, including the sad little fern Vinnie had given him.

  “You can leave that with me.”

  Bram hadn’t noticed Spencer’s arrival and was taken off guard by the man’s presence. “Really?” He cringed at the squawk in his voice. Smooth.

  “Sure, I have two walls of windows and you’re headed to the dungeon. No need for this little guy to suffer.”

  The ghost of Spencer’s lips on his own still loomed large, and Bram wasn’t sure what to make of the casual horticulture conversation they were currently having.

  “I promise to speak kindly to it and make sure it gets watered regularly.” Spencer’s smile was accompanied by a slight twinkle in his eye. And Bram didn’t miss either.

  “That would be great.” He set the box on the edge of his desk and reached in for the plant. “Thank you,” he said, handing the pot to Spencer. He ignored the stupid butterflies that had taken up residence in his belly. “I should really get going, though. Lots to learn.”

  “I’ll leave you to it then,” he said with a wink, then carried on toward his office.

  Fucking butterflies.

  ****

  As far as first days went, Bram couldn’t imagine a better one. Most of the morning was spent getting familiar with the app and deciding with his teammates who would be responsible for what. Everyone seemed to have similar backgrounds, with enough varying expertise to make them a solid team. The four of them gelled well, and Bram’s enthusiasm and confidence were both soaring.

  So when he returned from a brief lunch break and his phone display lit up with KEMP, he couldn’t really be blamed for the wide grin plastered across his face.

  “Bram Wilson speaking.” He could be professional.

  Without preamble, Spencer asked, “Are you free after work?”

  “What’d you have in mind?” Even to his own ears, it sounded a bit more flirty than he’d intended. And maybe just a bit unprofessional.

  “There’s something I’d like to discuss with you.” There was an edge of something somber in Spencer’s voice.

  “Sure.” Bram was hesitant now. “Should I come upstairs, or…?”

  “No, I don’t want to discuss it here.”

  “Oh. Okay.” The butterflies were back, but now they seemed hell-bent on making Bram lose the lunch he’d just eaten.

  “There’s a place around the corner, the Factory Lounge.”

  “I know it, sure.”

  “Meet me there at six.”

  “Yeah, sure. No…” But he was already talking to a dial tone. “Problem.”

  Chapter Six

  True to his word, Rich had drawn up a simple yet ironclad contract that had been waiting for Spencer first thing that morning. After a few back and forths, they’d finalized something Spencer thought was fair and hoped Bram would find reasonable. Assuming he was at all amenable to Spencer’s proposal in the first place.

  Nursing his second Scotch in less than fifteen minutes, Spencer tried like hell to calm his nerves. For all he knew, Bram would listen to what he had to say, nod politely, then slap him with a harassment suit. On the other hand, he might be completely on board with the idea. In which case, Spencer would have a husband. A husband! Jesus. He’d become so accustomed to living the single life, the concept hadn’t ever registered as a possibility. Yet here he was.

  Downing the rest of his drink, Spencer checked his watch. Six on the nose. And true to his word, there was Bram, right on time and being shown to his table.

  “Hi.” Bram seemed nervous as he took his seat.

  Spencer suddenly realized that in his attempt to quell his own nerves, he’d probably sounded like a bit of a dick on the phone.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” their waitress asked politely.

  “Oh, sure.” Bram sounded uneasy still. “Can I get a glass of your house red, please?”

  “Sure thing,” she answered. “I’m sorry to ask, but can I see some ID?”

  Spencer bit back a laugh.

  Bram’s face turned pink as he fished out his wallet and handed her his driver’s license. “Twenty-two next month,” he said.

  “Sorry, it’s just you look a lot younger, and I g
et in trouble if I don’t ask.”

  “No worries.” Bram took his license back. “I get it all the time.”

  Twenty-two. Jesus. Just a kid. What the hell was he thinking? Business. He was thinking about his business, pure and simple.

  “Can I ask you something?” Bram asked as the waitress left to fill their order.

  “Sure.”

  “Am I fired?”

  The question threw Spencer for a loop. “F—no. Why would you think that?”

  “I kissed you.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “Remember?”

  Oh, he remembered. Vividly. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had taken him so completely off guard. He’d spent more time than he cared to admit reliving the moment. But it sure as hell wasn’t a fireable offense. Okay, technically, it could have been. But in this case it had cemented his decision to go ahead with his ridiculous plan.

  “No, Bram. You’re definitely not fired.”

  Bram’s posture relaxed somewhat. Then he leaned forward and asked, “So what are we doing here, then?”

  “Hang on a minute. You thought you were about to be fired and you came along anyway?”

  “I mean, yeah. If you were going to fire me, you could have done it anywhere. At least this way, it wouldn’t have been in front of everyone at work.”

  “Well, you can rest assured. Nobody is getting fired.”

  As their waitress set their drinks down, they stared at each other intently. Neither man spoke until they both thanked her without breaking eye contact.

  “So?” Bram prompted. “What did you want to talk about?”

  After hesitating briefly, Spencer bit the bullet and dove right in. “I need to get married.”

  Bram furrowed his brow and took a hearty swallow of wine. “You’ve lost me.”

  “I need to get married and want to make you a proposal,” Spencer explained. “A business proposal,” he quickly added.

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  Spencer removed the contract from its folder, then slid it across the table toward Bram.

  “My grandmother was a hateful old woman,” he began to explain. “And in order to meet the requirements put on the money she gifted me in her will, I have to show proof of marriage to her lawyers.”

  “And you want me to…” Bram trailed off as he picked up the papers.

  “You need help paying off a big chunk of student debt,” Spencer continued. “And I need the money to make a sizeable and timely investment in AppMedica. So what I’m proposing is we get married. In return for you agreeing to do this, I use a portion of the money to pay off your loans.”

  “Get married.” Bram sounded out the phrase like it was in a foreign language. “Are you serious?”

  “Quite,” Spencer answered. “Nothing as far as our respective lives go has to change. We wouldn’t have to live together or be a couple or anything like that. It would simply be a legal document we would both be signing.”

  Bram was silent.

  “I don’t expect you to give me an answer right away,” Spencer added.

  Bram started to speak, then closed his mouth.

  “Are you okay?” Spencer asked.

  “I’ll be honest. I have a million things I want to say, but they all seem to want to come out as what the fuck.”

  “Fair.”

  “I mean. What the fuck?” Bram finished his wine in one swallow. “This is really … what the fuck.”

  Spencer downed his own drink a little too quickly and grimaced as the amber liquid burned its way down his throat. “I get it,” he finally said.

  “I really don’t know what to say.” Bram placed his hands flat on the table, framing the contract in front of him.

  “Just say you’ll think about it. Say you’ll take a look at this,” Spencer said, tapping the contract with his index finger.

  “Okay,” Bram said quietly. “I’ll take it home and read it over.”

  “Thank you. That’s all I’m asking.”

  “I think I should probably go right now, though. This is … well, it’s a lot.”

  It wasn’t a flat-out no.

  He’d take it.

  Chapter Seven

  Grateful for his busier new schedule, Bram barely had time to ponder Spencer’s proposal. Barely. He had loads to learn and keep him distracted. But proposals—even completely business-based ones—weren’t something that happened to him every day. Or ever, really. On the one hand, having his crippling debt wiped out would be a dream come true. But it meant getting married—married—to a man he barely knew. A gorgeous, successful man who also happened to be an amazing kisser. But that was beside the point. For all intents and purposes, Spencer Kemp was a stranger.

  If he said yes, did that make him a prostitute? No, the contract was crystal clear on that: no physical intimacy. No cohabitation. The only thing required of him was his signature. Still.

  He needed to talk this through with Vinnie. She’d be able to give him some sage advice. She always did. Unfortunately, she had just started a month of working nights. So finding time when their paths crossed was tricky.

  The low hum of his phone vibrating jarred him from his squirrelly head. He snatched it from his desk to quickly check who was texting. Speak of the devil.

  All it said was, Lunch?

  Deffo, he answered. Starving. 30 min? Usual?

  Vinnie: C U then.

  Bram spent the next fifteen minutes prioritizing his week’s list of tasks, then grabbed his things to go meet Vinnie. Their favorite spot for cheap grub was only a block away from the AppMedica offices—another perk to the job.

  When he arrived, she was already at a table, scouring the menu and still dressed in the teddy bear scrubs he’d given her for her last birthday. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun. And if it weren’t for the tattoos on her left forearm and the security badges she wore on a lanyard around her neck, she could easily be mistaken for a young child. In fact, she often was.

  “You haven’t been home, yet?” he asked, taking a seat.

  “Headed to crash after this, but I have news!” Her face was lit up like a Christmas tree.

  “News you couldn’t have texted? Shit, Vin. You must be exhausted.”

  “When am I not?” She shrugged casually.

  She had a point. Between her own shifts and covering for co-workers, Bram got tired just thinking about her schedule.

  “So tell me what’s so important you’re willing to forgo precious sleep?” he asked after they placed their orders.

  She leaned across the table and took his hands, winking conspiratorially. “I have a date.” She leaned back, crossed her arms, and grinned widely.

  “Shut. Up.”

  “I know!” She threw her hands up in disbelief.

  “When? With who? I need details. C’mon!”

  “Remember Lucy, the cute ginger girl who started last month in hospice care?”

  “The same Lucy who you’ve managed to work into at least one conversation a day since you met her? That Lucy?”

  “Smart ass.” She tossed her straw across the table.

  “So what happened?”

  “She asked me out. And I said yes.” Her smile told him all he needed to know.

  “Well, I’m happy for you, Vin. You deserve it.” Bram drummed his fingers on the table and hesitated briefly. “Speaking of co-workers…” He trailed off, hoping she’d pick up the rest.

  “Bram, you dog. Do you have a date, too?”

  “Not so much a date,” he admitted. “More of a proposal.”

  “Like someone at work propositioned you?”

  “No, I mean a proposal. Like marriage.”

  “Hold up.” Vinnie sat up straight and stared Bram in the eye. “Are you saying someone asked you to marry them?”

  Bram took a deep breath, then nodded. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. More or less.”

  “Jesus, Bram. Way to steal a girl’s thunder.” But she laughed as she said it. “Also, what the fu
ck?”

  “Yeah, that was pretty much word-for-word my reaction.”

  “I didn’t even know you were seeing anyone. How did I not know you were seeing someone?” She furrowed her brow. “Wow. I really am a shit roommate.”

  “No. No. No. Not at all,” he insisted. “I’m not seeing anyone. That’s what makes it even more what the fuck.”

  “Is that the more or less part?”

  “Kind of.” He laid out the conversation he’d had with Spencer, including the detailed contract, which he told her she could read when she got home. “And I can’t decide what to do.”

  “I mean, I’m no lawyer, so I have no idea how legit the offer is. But it sounds like a win-win to me.” Vinnie lowered her voice, then added. “You get to marry a gorgeous guy and get rid of that albatross of a student loan? I don’t see the downside.”

  “Yeah, but it’s not like it’s a real marriage. It’s just … paperwork.”

  “No, but it’s also not like you’re dating anyone, either. So where’s the harm?”

  “You don’t think it makes me like,” he leaned forward, then whispered, “a prostitute?”

  “First of all, there’s no shame in sex work. It’s still work. Second of all, no. I don’t.”

  “I guess.” He could always count on Vinnie to spell out the truth for him. But he still wasn’t one hundred percent convinced.

  “You kids ready to settle up?” Their waitress had the portable ATM ready for them, one of the benefits of being a regular.

  “Sure thing.” Bram dug out his wallet and took the machine. “My treat,” he told Vinnie. “It’s the least I can do for making everything all about me.”

  “I’d argue with you, but I’m too damn tired,” she said with a chuckle.

  Inserting his card, Bram keyed in his PIN and waited for his receipt. Instead he was greeted with Transaction Declined. Insufficient Funds.

  “Fuck me.” Bram felt his face heat.

  “Let me try it again,” the waitress offered.

  “No, don’t bother.” He already knew he was well overdrawn. “Vin?”

  “I got it,” she said with an understanding smile. “You’re gonna owe me one fancy ass dinner in a few months.”