Contract Bride
Ayn Amorelli
ISBN 0-9774682-6-7

Spicy Contemporary Romance
276 paperback pages
Multi-format ebook $5.99
Paperback $13.99
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Contract Bride is a Fictionwise bestseller!

Fallen Angel Reviews

Ayn Amorelli has written a great love story in the Contract Bride. She has told the story of child abuse and the love of two older people having a child late in life and what it can do to the children in adult life. I was moved with Bob’s life story and how he tells Kayla about it. Kayla’s life was different but still she had verbal abuse and lack of trust in her childhood. Ms. Amorelli is very talented in the way she tells the story and brings two misfits together to make a bargain. Contract Bride is a fast pace and very moving book. You will continue to read until it is finished. The sex scenes are very hot and sometimes very moving. You will fall in love with the hero and heroine and hope they can work things out and stay together. Thank You Ms. Amorelli, for a fantastic read.

Sensual Reads

Contract Bride is a good story about a man overcoming his past and confronting his future. Ayn Amorelli brings hope to the reader. Love is not easy to come by and I loved the complexities in this story.

Red Roses For Authors

Is it possible that what began as a contract marriage can turn into something worthwhile? Look out for some twists and turns! This is a book for over eighteens and is a strong, pacy read with a satisfactory ending. 4.5 red roses, but only for those who like strong sexual scenes.

Chapter Two

Driving up in the wide driveway beside the large two-story beige brick house, Kayla glanced around. No one, thank God, was standing at any of the windows in any of the huge, two-story houses nearby. No one was on the sidewalk either or in any of the yards, as far as she could see. No one was coming out of their doors. No cars were coming down the wide two lane street. So far so good.

Pulling down the spotless white visor with the mirror on the back, she quickly smoothed her long unruly, softly permed blonde hair, then pushed it demurely behind her ears. The last thing she wanted was to have her hair get in her face while she cleaned for her very first client. She had to do a good job. She just had to! Studying her tense face, she smoothed the wrinkle line between her brows, then quickly, before she lost her nerve, opened the door with one hand and stepped out of the car.

Glancing around suspiciously, she unbuttoned the top two buttons of her brand new, black leather, ankle-length, trench coat. It was hot as blazes. But it offered protection from any prying eyes that might spot her skimpy outfit underneath.

This is just a job, she assured herself, very aware of her bare breasts and sensitive nipples which were being teased by the soft satin lining of the coat while she got her new Easy-rack filled with cleaning supplies out of the back. It was an important job, to be sure. There would be a brand new hundred dollar bill, at the very least, waiting at the end of two hours. But still it was just a job. All she had to do, Mr. Griffin had assured her, was to smile, act friendly, and do her very best to please his new client. If she relaxed enough, she could, at her discretion, stay longer than two hours, increasing Mr. Griffin's fee and hers at the same time. An additional hundred bucks an hour was a hell of a good incentive to at least try to make the best of it.

Pushing the automatic car lock button on her key ring, she dropped her keys into her rack and glanced at her shiny gold-link watch with twelve sparkling diamonds around the perimeter of its midnight blue dial. Seven on the dot. Good! She'd been told Mr. McKnight didn't like to be kept waiting.

Her brand new black patent leather high-heels clicked sharply on the cobbled stone walkway, as she quickly unbuttoned the third button on her coat. No one was watching her, she assured herself, glancing covertly around again. No one but Mr. McKnight knew what she was wearing underneath her coat, so there was no reason to feel self-conscious. Lord knew she wanted … she had to make a good impression on her first client ever so Mr. Griffin would be pleased. He'd told her all his customers had favorites. If they liked a girl, they'd always ask for her, and only her, and she'd be assured of making at least a tidy sum paid in cold, hard cash each and every week. If she cleaned enough houses, she'd be able to take her time looking for a new secretarial job during the day, while paying enough on her apartment and her bills to keep creditors and her manager, the mean old bitch, satisfied.

* * * *

At the sound of a car in the driveway, Bob looked up from the architectural plans for the new subdivision twenty miles to the north. Peeking out the corner of the long, narrow window by the door, he stiffened. The pristine white Volvo was a dead giveaway. Kayla Leigh. And right on time. Damn! So soon? How'd time passed so quickly?

He glanced around as he absently straightened the papers. The slow romantic CDs were ready. And the champagne was chilling in the golden ice bucket on the black leather bar with two cut crystal champagne flutes next to it. If the girl was as attractive as George claimed and

she proved amenable to his plan, they'd both have good reason to celebrate.

Unfortunately though, the place was just too neat. Against his better judgment, and hating to do it, but determined to create a good ruse in case he didn't choose her, he turned the high black leather tufted stool on which he'd been sitting upside down and tore the three large white leather cushions from the couch and the two cushions from the matching arm chairs, throwing them all haphazardly on the floor. Opening his teak wood supply cabinet, he swiped his hand over both shelves, spilling their contents haphazardly on the white carpet.

Racing to the bar, he grabbed as many liquor bottles as he could, and set them on his glass-topped coffee table. He went to the two smoked glass-topped matching end tables and took the two thin-based chrome lamps off, carefully setting them on their sides on the floor.

Rushing into the immaculate kitchen, he grabbed a couple of cans of beer from the fridge and emptied them in the sink to get rid of the antiseptic cleaner's smell. He smashed the cans on

the white tiled counter, then emptied the trash can in the middle of the red tiled floor. As he was debating whether or not he should wreak havoc on the master bedroom, the doorbell chimed. Dammit, there wasn't enough time to go upstairs and tear up the guest bedrooms, much less the den.

Taking a moment to compose himself as the doorbell sounded again, he studied his reflection in the mirrored foyer. For a guy thirty-five, he didn't look too bad, he decided, pushing back his light brown curly hair and tucking his tight white knit shirt into his tailored jeans. She was awfully young, but he was in pretty decent shape thanks to the new home exercise gym he'd recently added. The stuff'd cost a fortune, and had nearly maxed out over half his credit cards,

but was well worth it. Hell, if Kayla was the one he picked, he might even put some exercise equipment in for her too. Even pregnant women needed to exercise.

"Mr. McKnight?" asked the little blonde as he opened the door. "I'm Kayla Leigh," she whispered, glancing around furtively. "From the … um …cleaning agency. I believe you're expecting me?"

Bob hid his smile, his heart going out to her as he extended his hand and led her inside. With her eyes wide with fear, she blinked several times before meeting his gaze. She was scared half to death and shaking slightly. She was a lot smaller than he'd expected, only coming up to the middle of his chest, and had a small-boned, dainty build.

He'd always been partial to little things…with the exception of cats. It was gratifying to see how strong they could become with the right amount of nurturing. His mind drifted unexpectedly to the baby bird who'd spiraled down on his patio last year. He remembered how bravely it had tried to defend itself, mistaking his interest for intending harm. Its frantic squawking was heart-breaking. Like Kayla, the baby bird was shaking with fear. But by talking to it soothingly, letting it get used to him enough to trust him, then feeding it watered down canned cat food with an eye dropper, it soon came to have faith in him. It was then he'd mixed a sleeping potion into its food so he could examine its broken wing, and gently reset it. Maybe he should've taken it to a vet, but he had wanted the chance to try to fix it himself. He had named it Allie, figuring that could be a boy or girl's name. It had become a pet, chirping happily from its high perch the moment he walked out onto the patio. He was proud of his handiwork. The perch area had enough room for it to eat from the feeder he'd bought at a pet store, and to exercise a little. It even got so tame, it'd sit on his finger. He was content to let it stay as long as it wanted, but one morning, after greeting him, it surprised the heck out of him by flying high, doing a couple of loops in the air, then flying away. He'd become real fond of that little bird. He could've replaced it, he supposed, by buying a bird at the pet store, but somehow it wouldn't have been the same. And he liked to think one of the birds he heard every morning was Allie.

Coming back to the present, he noticed Kayla had set down her cleaning supplies and was starting to unbutton her coat, darting furtive glances at him. Although she was obviously shy, there was something in her gaze which intrigued him and he sensed a high degree of intelligence.

"Would it make it easier for you if I closed my eyes?" he teased. "Or you could pretend I'm a doctor checking you over."

Looking puzzled, she finally smiled, catching on.

"You're right on time," he murmured, trying hard not to stare at her slowly opening coat as a tantalizing view of a perfect female body was revealed.

"This is my first job doing this," she whispered, hoping it explained her awkwardness.

"I know. Just take your time. There's no need to rush." Truth be known, her slow, unskilled movements were more erotic than anything he'd ever experienced. He felt seventeen again, wanting her so badly it hurt. But he didn't dare voice his thoughts. She was nervous enough as it was. If she'd had any idea of how hard his penis was, she would've run out of there. Fortunately, she was too shy to even look where she would've seen evidence of his desire against the rough denim fabric of his jeans.

Although Kayla was grateful he was being so kind, his green eyes had enlarged slightly, clearly showing his sexual interest. And he hadn't once looked at anything but her since she'd started unbuttoning her coat. That made her even more awkward, her fingers fumbling badly with the buttons.

Watching her success with the last of those infernal buttons, Bob quickly eased behind her to help her shed the thing.

Kayla involuntarily stiffened as she felt his gentle fingers close around the collar of her coat, gently brushing her neck and shoulders as he pulled it down, then slowly over her arms and completely off her.

"Relax, dear," he urged. "I won't bite. Unless, of course, you want me to." Feeling tingles travel up and down her spine as her heartbeat increased she felt drawn to him like a magnet and leaned slightly back, as need became more important than logic. She could just imagine this good-looking stranger sucking and lightly nibbling her breasts, screwing her right then and there.

Hiding his satisfaction at her receptiveness as he hung up her coat in the large cedar lined closet, he watched over his shoulder as her nipples beaded tightly. She was ready for him now. Just as ready as he was for her. Soon, very soon, he'd make her an offer. Mentally, he relaxed a little. He'd made his choice. Next on the agenda was getting her to accept it.

Turning to face him, Kayla was more aware of her body than she'd ever been in her life. He was close enough to her she could feel his body heat which intensified his fragrant after shave.

For a long moment, they stared into each other's eyes, not more than six inches apart with their expressions bland, but their eyes enlarged. It was, she knew, the beginning of the mating game, as irrational as it was, considering she was there to do a job and they'd just met.

Feeling more alive than she'd been in a long time, she stopped questioning it and instead followed his lead, running her eyes over him as he'd started doing to her.

He wasn't only good-looking with lots of light brown curly hair framing his handsome, square-jawed face, he was downright virile looking with his huge green eyes reminding her of a lion. He had a great physique. His broad shoulders and well muscled biceps, partially visible beneath his short sleeves, were deeply tanned. His tight knit shirt outlined the planes of his muscled chest, then tapered down to a trim waist. He was tall too, well over six feet. She'd always been attracted to tall men.

For some reason, she'd assumed Mr. Griffin's clients were all dirty old men who'd be leering salaciously at her, maybe even drooling, wheezing old geezers who'd quickly back off at the slightest challenge. This tall, well-built man, she realized, wouldn't.

His erect posture with his broad shoulders firmly back, his calm demeanor as he met her eyes when she looked up at him, his very closeness, standing within inches of her, were all unnerving. Self-confidence literally radiated off him.

Were all Mr. Griffin's customers this good-looking? Dear God! She hoped not. There was only so much excitement a girl could take.

Afraid he'd give into the temptation to screw her right there, Bob turned away abruptly, trying to will his stretching penis into submission. He wanted to push her against the nearest wall, pull down her black lace panties, and plunge his penis deeply into her. But while it'd sure satisfy the hell out of him for the moment, it'd probably scare her so much she'd bolt half-nude outside where all his neighbors could see what was going on. Later, they'd have fun and games. But not yet. Not this soon.

"You have a lot to clean up," he barked, sounding more harsh than he'd intended as he headed into the living room. Realizing how dictatorial he sounded, he paused, getting himself under control. "But I'll help," he assured her, keeping his eyes off her breasts with an effort.

Puzzled by his quick change of mood, going from seduction to strictly business in what had to be record time, Kayla picked up her case of cleaning supplies and followed him. What she wanted was to get out of there as fast as she could. But she couldn't. She needed the money too much. She wished she knew the rules of her new job though. When Mr. Griffin hired her, he'd said he'd give her some guidelines to go by. Unfortunately, this assignment had come up so fast, he hadn't had time to tell her what they were.

Aware of the moisture between her thighs which had been brought about from his nearness and her wayward thoughts, she quickly strode into the living room as fast as she could in her precariously high heels. "I doubt if you're supposed to help. I think you're just supposed to watch."

"That wasn't my understanding," he countered.

"Well…I guess you can then…if you really want to," she said, stepping over one of the large couch cushions to get to the scattered supplies beyond.

"I want to…do a lot of things with you," he muttered, joining her, getting down beside her, leaning close, swiping a large package of tracing papers out of her reach to get her attention. "But right now I'll settle for you slowing down and relaxing a little. I'll even double the pay for tonight, if you do."

What the hell, he wasn't paying a dime for her tonight. "Personally, I prefer to go slow and thorough, taking my time … with everything. And I like my women to be the same way."

He'd double the pay? Was he serious? "Are you sure that's all you want? I mean, I'll be glad to do it like that, but—" Then she stiffened, wanting, but unable to move away, as he gently trailed his fingertips down her arm. She was intensely aware of his broad shoulders close to her breasts as he held her eyes.

"That's all I'm asking you to do," he whispered seductively, his warm breath fanning her face. "Just relax, sweetheart. For now."

Kayla swallowed visibly and looked away, slowly gathering some scattered design books. Playing the mating game was one thing. That, in her opinion, was harmless flirting. But seduction was quite another. He was up to something. She knew he was. But what? She should've questioned her friend, Darlene, more about Mr. Griffin's operation. From the way Darlene had talked, she'd assumed it was a high-class place with no touching or affairs allowed. Obviously, she'd been misled.

"Drink?" he asked. "You look like you could use one as much as I can."

She really needed to get hold of a copy of Mr. Griffen's rules! There were all sorts of things coming up here that she wasn't prepared to handle.

"Maybe I'll take a gin and tonic. A very small one." And nurse it. The truth was, she didn't care much for drinking. She never had. To her, all liquor tasted the same, like castor oil. The only times she drank was when she was with someone else who did, and then she did it so she'd fit in. But she never had more than one and instead kept adding ice and water to her first drink so it'd look like she was drinking more.

Bob took a good stiff belt of Jack Daniels straight, then mixed her drink. He should send her packing. If it hadn't been for the unmistakable signal that she was attracted to him, he would have. But the way her eyes kept straying to his lips as she repeatedly leaned towards him, the way her nipples beaded instantly whenever he touched her, and the way her eyes enlarged slightly as she looked at him were clear signs she wanted him to take her to bed.

But there was something holding her back. She didn't approach him unless he approached her first. She didn't touch him playfully to see how he'd respond. She didn't even talk to him while she cleaned.

But she was a quiet young thing, so maybe that was just her nature. That was fine with him. He was kind of quiet too. He was rarely the life of any party. He'd bet she'd never been either.

She was bound to be a little shy, considering they'd just met. He was nervous as hell too. If it hadn't been for him having to get married quickly, he'd have been content to take it slow.

Surely she was used to having men look at her with her attractive sweet face and that terrific body. She did seem a little self-conscious but considering this was the first time she'd had to be half-nude for a damn job, that was natural.

Was she afraid she'd get fired if she didn't clean his house properly? She seemed so damn conscientious about it. He had to give her credit though. In no time at all, she'd scooped up all the books and other papers on the floor and was now stacking them in neat piles all the same height in his supply cabinet as he fixed their drinks.

His eyes zeroed in on her breasts again which were bobbing and swaying seductively as she bent over his slanted work table, organizing everything. He could see why George was doing a brisk business. Just watching a half-nude woman work was as enjoyable as hell. But this woman seemed hell-bent on cleaning everything until it shone, reeking of polish and cleaner.

He sighed contentedly, watching her rotate her shoulders, moving those luscious breasts in a slow circle. Unfortunately she didn't seem to be doing it to entertain him. The way she frowned as she moved them, it was clear as hell she was tense. But that was good in a way. It should make her more responsive to getting laid tonight, which was a great stress-reducer. Besides, he had to test her to make sure they were sexually compatible. He wasn't about to be tied to a woman for nearly a year if she wasn't physically well-matched. He did have a strong sex urge which was damn inconvenient, living alone like he did. That was the worst part of being a bachelor. No sweet young playmate, ready for sex.

This woman should be able to satisfy him in every way. The way her little hips were wiggling as she walked to capture a stray paper that floated out of her reach, stirred his imagination, keeping him hard as hell. He dearly loved those long skinny legs of hers too, especially clad in those black silk stockings.

But he had to do something to motivate her in the right direction quickly. There was no way he'd take the chance of being saddled with a frozen ice princess.

Her aloofness was challenging, but surely that barrier could be broached if he used the right bait. She'd be well worth whatever effort it took.

"Your drink's ready," he called, raising his glass in a mock salute, downing his own quickly. "But tell me something," he said as she seated herself on a black leather stool. "Why are you doing this? Cleaning people's houses dressed like that? With your looks and um, other assets, I'd think you'd try for something better."

Taking a sip of her drink which was so strong it made her eyes water, Kayla promptly put it down. Did he honestly think she liked doing this, letting strange men ogle her breasts, knowing there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it? She was looking forward to it as much as getting the plague. But she'd be damned if she'd admit it to a stranger who was paying her to do that very thing.

"There's nothing wrong with good, honest work. As long as someone's willing to pay me for it." That, at least, was true, as far as it went. The only problem was, she didn't know if what she was doing could technically be classified as work. She felt more like an entertainer than a worker.

"You call running around half-nude good, honest work? Besides, from what I understand," he continued as she parted her pretty lips, "the pay's not all that good. You could make a hell of a lot more doing other things."

"It's all relative," she shrugged. "Even if you decide not to double it like you said, two hundred dollars means a hundred bucks an hour. To me, that's good pay."

"It's chicken feed compared to what I'd pay you if you worked for me personally."

She hated to ask, but was too curious not to. Taking another sip of her drink for courage, then putting it down in front of her, she studied him. "Doing what?" she asked archly.

Bob handed her drink to her, silently urging her to drink more. "I'd be willing to pay you two million dollars, with a retainer of ten thousand now," he said, evading her question, planting his bait. "And I'll pay all of your expenses, everything, including medical and dental bills for the next, say, twenty or so years, rounded off." That, he'd figured, was competitive in today's market. "That includes of course, any, uh, incidental expenses" like our child's. "I'll be responsible for those."

For a moment, Kayla stared open-mouthed at him. Then she took a big gulp of her drink. "I'm sure I didn't hear you right. For a moment there, I … would you repeat that?"

Bob hid his smile. The fish had not only taken the bait, but his hook had sunk deep. "You heard me," he said, gallantly taking her elbow, steering her to the couch and lugging a big pillow back in its place. "And it's easy work, Kayla. I think you'd like it."

Kayla sat down beside him and quickly took another swallow of her drink. "Doing what?" she repeated.

Bob grabbed his checkbook and a pen off his desk, then sat down next to her with their thighs touching. "Here's the retainer," he said, writing out a check. "With the two million I'll deposit it to whatever account you choose by the end of the year." So I can take it off my taxes, right away, which are going to be huge.

All that money was making her head spin. It was hard to keep it straight. But she had to give him credit. He had it all figured out. Unfortunately, he was still evading her question. And that made her edgy. But she couldn't just turn it down … at least not without knowing what kind of a job he had in mind. That kind of money would make her not only solvent but wealthy, especially with him paying all her living expenses. "What makes you think I have the skills for what you have in mind? I'm sure sex is a part of it. It has to be. But there's something else to it too, isn't there?" She met his eyes. "What is it?"

Deciding she needed further enticement, Bob ignored her for the moment, and calmly wrote out the check for ten grand, leaving her name blank, and dropped it in her lap. "I'm in my late great-aunt's will, and I stand to inherit a lot of money." That's all he'd ever tell her about the amount, he decided. She didn't need to know how much.

Kayla picked up the check with shaking hands. Dear God! All those zeroes at the end seemed to grow, looking larger than life. It wasn't that it was such a huge amount itself that astounded her, it was the timing. She was at rock bottom with only twelve dollars in her checking account, and the service charge of ten dollars a month was due to be deducted next week. She had very little to eat in her kitchen. Even her apartment might not be there next week, as the apartment manager had threatened to throw her out unless she came up with the rent money. Even the car dealer had warned her he'd have to take back her car if she didn't catch up with her payments.

"I've got to meet certain requirements to get that money, Kayla. I've got to get married, get my new wife pregnant and have her give birth to my child by the end of December." He searched her eyes. "Are you woman enough to do the job?"