He laughs, kind of surprised. “You’re not serious. Are you?”
I nod several times. “This is a business proposition pure and simple. You’re a businessman and I’m a businesswoman, right?”
“Right.”
“And you are trying to reach girl gamers for your show. You said that two days ago. Well, let’s do more than a promo. Let’s make you a candidate. You said your Wikipedia page has you at twenty-three anyway. So you could be twenty-three, you can pass for it, and obviously viewers will vote for you. They’ll pick you as one of the five to date. And then you’ll be on my show in a bigger way than just a promo. You’ll be a contender. You know as well as I do that brand integration is the way to go.”
“I love it when you talk dirty, McKenna.”
“You know it’s true,” I say emphatically. “You become part of the Trophy Husband project, then my viewers will get to know you, they’ll check out your show, they’ll check out you and bam. You are well on your path as you reach out to female gamers.”
“Okay,” he says slowly. “I like the way you’re thinking. I like everything you’re saying. And yes, I do need to get the word out about my new show. But there’s one teensy, tiny little problem.” He holds up his thumb and index finger to show a small amount of space.
“What’s that?”
He holds up his hands, as if to protect himself. “Now, this isn’t personal. This isn’t about you. But, I don’t want to be a Trophy Husband.”
I give him a look. A look that says you can’t be serious. A look that rebuilds my barriers and protects me from letting him see too far into me, into the truth of this business deal. That it’s not merely for business. But that the game might be the only way I can move closer to him without revealing all that I feel for him. In my body and in my heart. “Chris, this is a business deal. You and I are business partners. I am not asking you to move in, I am not asking you to be my man, I am not even asking you to be my boyfriend,” I say, deliberately not adding husband to the list. I make a mental note of the fact that I can’t even breathe the word husband, let alone bear to utter it.
“But I kind of thought that was what this contest was all about.”
“Yes and no. It’s about proving a point,” I say, returning to my platform, like a politician. My talking points. Because the more he questions me, the more I lose sight of my goals. The more I lose sight of the game. Because there’s no game with him whatsoever. Everything I feel for him is so scarily real, but I can’t let him know that though.
“So you’re not actually going to go through with this? The marriage thing?”
“All I want to do is prove that a woman can play a man’s game. So play with me. It makes things interesting to have you on the show.” I pause, then continue. “This is the Web. People want to laugh, they want to be entertained. They want to see people do wild things they can’t do on regular TV. They want us to be daring. They want us to do the things they can’t do.”
Chris shifts back and forth a bit, considering.
I go for the kill. “And you like to play games. C’mon, you’re a gamer, Chris. This is the ultimate game. Come on my show and play my game and let’s see if you can win.”
“Oh, those are fighting words that cut straight to my competitive heart.”
“Good. I knew I could hook you that way.”
“So you want me to be your pretend boy toy for the sake of making a point?”
“Dude, I totally want to make a point with you.”
“Now it does sound like you’re talking dirty to me.”
I quirk up my lips and I’m not sure what comes over me, but maybe it’s the fact that I’ve already had his hands on me, his mouth on me, that in my fantasies he knows what I taste like. So I say, “Maybe I am.”
Chris rises and switches sides, sliding into the booth next to me. My heart leaps into my throat. My belly does a flip flop, and I am warm all over. Wait, make that white-hot when he fingers a strand of my long hair, playing with it. Does he have any idea what he does to me? Can he tell that I want to be tangled up in his arms? That I want to him to move me under him, to slide inside me, to lay his hot body on mine as he takes me? “You know, if I’m going to be a candidate, I think it’s only fitting, don’t you think, for me to kiss you?”
“You mean to sort of test the waters?”
“Make sure we’re a good fit.”
“So this would be like a business partner kiss?”
“Since we’re in business together, yes.”
“Then this would be a business kiss.”
“All business.”
“Okay, Chris. You may business kiss me now.”
His hand finds its way to the back of my neck and the feeling of his firm hand on me makes me shudder. I close my eyes reflexively, letting myself feel that little zing that rushes from my belly down to my toes and back up again, as he leans into me, his soft lips brushing mine, his hand still gently resting on my neck, his fingers playing with my hair. It’s not a long kiss, just a few seconds, but enough time for me to notice his lips are soft and full, his breath tastes fresh, and that even a even a starter kiss from him feels a bit like magic and music and falling all in one. He pulls away slowly, his lips taking their time leaving mine.
It’s better than all my fantasies. It’s ten million times better. Because it’s real, and it’s tangible, and it’s happening, and he’s touched me, and I want so much more. I want him. All of him.