Marrying the Enemy Page 4

  If Seaborn’s was on the way out, better to go out with a bang than a whimper.

  She swanned through the marquee at Flemington Racecourse, air-kissing acquaintances, greeting industry peeps, fake-smiling and making idle chit-chat like a pro.

  How Sapphie did this on a regular basis she’d never know. Little wonder she’d burned out. And this on top of her CEO duties. And the secret she’d lugged around for months—that no matter what she did the company they loved would end up bankrupt.

  The thought of her broken sister and how little Sapphie had trusted her to help brought a lump to her throat and she grabbed a Chardonnay from a passing waiter and edged towards the balcony overlooking the lush green course, desperate for fresh air.

  She dragged in great lungfuls, grateful when her lungs eased and she could breathe easier. Taking a sip of wine, she glanced back at the crowded room.

  And saw the last man she wanted to see.

  Jax Maroney. Black suit. Black heart. Black mood too, judging by the glower and permanently etched frown.

  Detached from the mingling crowd, he was propped behind a display, watching, his frown not easing as that penetrating glare swept the room.

  Interesting. The second function in a few days where he’d deliberately separated from the crowd. He didn’t appear awkward; then again he didn’t exactly fit into this esoteric crowd, six-three of brooding, beautiful male.

  She edged behind a pillar and watched him. He didn’t move, didn’t smile, didn’t accept a drink or hors d’oeuvres. The only time he appeared animated was when the Meyers, an elderly rich couple who’d been friends of her mum, approached. He squared his shoulders, managed a sardonic smile and held out his hand. Only to have the couple ignore it, mutter a few words that wiped the smile off his face, and walk away as fast as their arthritic knees could carry them.

  The guy wanted to ruin her family’s business and she should hate him, but when he resumed his air of detachment and blanked his expression as if nothing had happened, a small part of her felt sorry for him.

  If memory served her correct, the Meyers’ son had lost around eight hundred thousand dollars thanks to Denver Maroney, so it didn’t surprise her they snubbed his son.

  This crowd always protected their own and Jax’s dad had done the unthinkable: using longstanding friendships to swindle and deceive and destroy.

  What intrigued her was why Jax Maroney was putting himself through this. The guy might appear unflappable and aloof, as if he didn’t give a flying frisbee what anyone thought of him, but being deliberately ostracised because of the sins of his father?

  It had to make an impact on him. Unless the guy was made from stone. Considering his disdain as he glanced at his watch and scanned the crowd as if looking for someone, it was more than likely.

  Her heart kicked and she gave it a little rub. As if he’d be looking for her. Considering how they’d parted the other night, the next time they communicated she expected to see an offer in writing from his lawyer.

  Guys like him didn’t give up easily. Powerful, commanding, never taking no for an answer.

  If Maroney Mine had the Seaborn mine in its sight, Lord help her.

  She’d briefly considered it an option to save Seaborn’s before waking up and smelling the coal dust. Jax Maroney had made it clear the other night: he was interested in their mine, not in the oldest jewellery store in Melbourne.

  He didn’t care that Seaborn’s had supplied tiaras to the Miss Australia pageant for the last two decades. He didn’t care they had personally written thank-yous from TV stars for their exquisite pieces. He didn’t care Aussie movie icons had worn their signature sets on the red carpet in Hollywood.

  Jax Maroney cared about the bottom dollar—his—and to hell with everyone else.

  She didn’t know whether the stress of the last few days had caught up with her or she just wanted to vent and he happened to be handy, but she downed her second Chardonnay and marched towards him.

  He glanced up, the flicker of pleasure lighting his face quickly masked by a deliberate aloofness he probably practised in the mirror every morning.

  ‘Stalking your next victim?’

  His eyes widened. ‘I beg your pardon?’

  She waved at the crowd. ‘Most of Melbourne’s jewellers are here. Scoping out someone else to muscle in on and drive out of business?’

  The corners of his mouth curved into an infuriating smirk. ‘I’m guessing you’re not here to agree to my proposal, then.’

  ‘You guessed right.’

  Proposal...probably some fifty-page document designed to bamboozle.

  She hated feeling this helpless. ‘Are you ochlophobic?’

  He shook his head. ‘Why?’

  ‘You’re always hanging around the outskirts, avoiding crowds.’

  ‘More like people avoiding me,’ he muttered, bitterness tightening his mouth as his brooding stare swept the crowd.

  Maybe her earlier assumption hadn’t been too far off the mark, then? While Mr. Moneybags wore his aloofness like the finest designer duds, being shunned because of his name obviously did rankle.

  ‘You look like you don’t want to be here. Maybe that scares people off.’

  He shrugged. ‘I don’t care what people think. I’m here on business.’

  ‘Funny business, I bet,’ she muttered, earning another slight twitch of his mouth.

  ‘Don’t you have people to schmooze?’

  ‘Don’t you?’ she fired back, ashamed by her cheap shot considering he’d just told her this crowd were avoiding him and she’d seen the evidence firsthand with the Meyers.

  His imperious gaze swept her from top to toe, visually stripping her black-silk-imprinted-with-crimson-roses strapless dress from her body. Her skin pebbled and prickled with awareness; she’d never felt so exposed.

  ‘I’m right where I want to be.’

  It meant nothing, a line from a guy used to having women falling at his Prada-loafered feet. But in that moment, with warmth flowing through her body like liquid honey, she wished she could believe him.

  As if sensing her reaction, he pushed off the wall and took a step forward. In her face, in her personal space.

  Her senses went on high alert: too close, too hot, too much.

  His lips kicked into a sexy grin. ‘Nothing to say? That’s a first.’

  Biting back the irrational urge to reach up and pull his head down to within kissing distance, she eyeballed him. ‘You don’t know me.’

  He leaned down and she braced against the incoming assault of hot male and crisp citrus.

  ‘Maybe I’d like to?’ He murmured in her ear, his warm breath tickling her and her eyelids fluttered shut, lost in the heat of undeniable attraction.

  Before reality set in. That was all she needed: to get involved with the enemy.

  His fingertip touched her ear lobe, trailing across her jaw, setting her alight.

  Desire streaked through every common-sense reason for not grabbing his hand, dragging him out of here and back to her place.

  She’d always been spontaneous when it came to guys, not following convention of waiting to be asked out. If she liked a guy, she let him know.

  But as Jax stepped away, leaving her hot and bothered and yearning, she knew he was no ordinary guy.

  She couldn’t toy with him. He wasn’t the type to tease or taunt without serious repercussions.

  Considering the dire circumstances at Seaborn’s, did she really want to play with fire?

  ‘I’d like you to leave our mine alone.’

  The glimmer of lust in his eyes didn’t dim. If anything, her feistiness seemed to turn him on.

  ‘And I’d like this city to acknowledge I’m nothing like my father and do business with me but we don’t always get what we want.’

  His honesty stunned her and when his lips clamped and he tried to turn away, she grabbed his hand.

  ‘So you have a heart beneath that tough-guy exterior after all.’

&nbs
p; He frowned but the rigidness around his mouth softened. ‘Nope.’

  He tapped his chest. ‘No heart here; call me Tin Man.’

  She loved The Wizard of Oz as a child and the fact this big, bad business bully knew the movie endeared him to her as nothing else could.

  ‘You want acceptance—’

  ‘For my business.’ He waved a dismissive hand at the crowd. ‘Couldn’t care less what they think of me.’

  His clarification only solidified her impression that this deliberate ostracism had to mean more than he was letting on.

  ‘Okay, you want them to accept your business, and I want my family business to survive intact. Maybe we should brainstorm a solution to our problems?’

  The frown deepened. ‘Why? As you pointed out, we barely know each other. Why the hell would I discuss my private business with you?’ He shook his head. ‘Business proposals I understand. This?’ He pointed at the crowd. ‘Not a hope.’

  She stared at him, something tugging at the edge of her consciousness.

  He’d used the word proposal again... What if they could nut out a proposal to benefit them both?

  The idea shimmered and coalesced, detonating like an ill-timed bomb and she gasped.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  She glanced at his left hand.

  ‘Are you married?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Involved with anyone?’

  His frown eased, that sexy grin back. ‘If this is your way of asking me out—’

  ‘I’m not asking you out.’

  She placed her palms against his chest, slid them across to his lapels and tugged him closer.

  ‘I’m asking you to marry me.’

  When Denver had been arrested, Jax had been subjected to some pretty outlandish proposals from the media desperate to get the inside scoop.

  None as outrageous as Ruby Seaborn asking him to marry her.

  ‘You know you don’t have to go to those lengths for me to put out. I’m good for it.’

  She laughed, a genuine belly laugh that made something inside him twist with longing.

  ‘This isn’t what you think.’ She darted a glance over her shoulder—yeah, as if anyone would approach them as long as he was part of this twosome.

  ‘It’s a business proposal.’

  She beckoned with a crook of her finger. He didn’t need to be asked twice to get up close and personal with her. When he’d whispered in her ear he’d smelled summer berries. Strawberry? Raspberry? Blueberry? A delicious compote that had him yearning to taste...

  He pointed to her empty wine glass. ‘How many of those have you had?’

  ‘Not enough,’ she muttered, her wry grin adding to her intrigue.

  He’d had women proposition him many times but none had been crazy enough to propose marriage.

  ‘Just hear me out, okay?’

  She laid a hand on his forearm and he stilled, her touch innocuous, his libido’s reaction anything but.

  ‘I’m all ears.’

  She slid her hand down to grab his and tug him across to the quietest corner in the room, tucked behind a towering potted palm near the caterer’s entrance.

  ‘Shouldn’t you get down on bended knee, do this right?’ he teased.

  ‘Shut up.’ She made a zipping motion across her lips.

  ‘Is that any way to talk to your prospective fiancé?’

  ‘Jeez, you’re a pain in the—’

  ‘You’re not sugar-coating how much you want to be my wife, I like that.’

  Amusement lit her eyes. ‘Okay, I guess I deserve whatever you dish out considering how I blurted out that proposal. But once you hear what I have to say I’m sure you’ll agree marriage makes sense.’

  He folded his arms. ‘You think? Because from where I’m standing, marrying a stranger holds little appeal. Not that I’m anti-marriage, mind you, but I always thought if I was crazy enough to shackle myself to a woman in matrimony, we’d have a serious relationship going first.’

  She sighed. ‘You talk too much. Typical CEO.’

  ‘Typical?’

  She puffed out her cheeks like a balloon. ‘Full of hot air and self-importance, likes the sound of his own voice.’

  God, he loved sparring with her. Her quick wit plus her beauty and intelligence equalled a potential problem for his self-control.

  ‘Why don’t you rationalise your ludicrous proposal before you pump up my fragile ego any more?’

  She snorted. ‘Fragile? Yeah, right.’

  ‘You’ve got two minutes starting now—’

  ‘Okay, okay.’ She held up her hands in surrender. ‘Sheesh, better add impatient to that list of your questionable attributes.’

  ‘Ninety seconds and counting—’

  ‘I want to save Seaborn’s, you want entry into Melbourne’s high society. I can give you the latter, if you agree to stop undercutting our mine for a year and give us a chance to turn our profit margins around.’

  He knew blurting out that bit about the crowd shunning him had been a bad move. A smart woman like her had picked up on how much it really meant to him and was now using it to blackmail him into marriage. Gutsy.

  ‘What makes you think I need you to introduce me to Melbourne’s elite?’

  She shook her head. ‘You disappoint me. I’m being honest with you; I expect the same in return.’

  She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. ‘That mob—the movers and shakers?—tend to snub.’ She paused, the tip of her tongue darting out to moisten her top lip, and his gut tightened.

  ‘Especially you, with your background.’

  Damn, she knew. Of course she’d know. Everyone in this city knew his lineage. They’d driven him away once and were still using it to beat him around the head.

  Didn’t matter how much money his mine had turned over last year. Didn’t matter about profit margins or award recognition by the WA Mining Commission. Didn’t matter he’d busted his ass taking his mine to the top of the competition.

  They still wouldn’t grant him access to what he needed most: Global Mining Corp, the governing body that controlled the fate of Maroney Mine and his dreams to take his company international.

  Keeping a tight rein on his bitterness, he yawned. ‘I wouldn’t believe everything you hear.’

  She tsked. ‘You’re taking me for a fool again. Shame, because it’s a good deal.’

  Yeah, if he wanted to be shackled in a loveless marriage with a woman he barely knew.

  He’d never really thought about getting married. He’d have to let a woman get close enough emotionally for a serious relationship to develop and he didn’t have the time or the inclination for that.

  In the Kimberly region he focused on business. If he wanted some down-time and female company he’d head to Perth. He liked his dates uncomplicated and his sex with no strings attached.

  Married to Ruby Seaborn? A move way beyond strings. More like Superman being hogtied with Kryptonite rope.

  There had to be more to this ludicrous suggestion of hers. Why would a beautiful, intelligent young woman want to marry him to save her family business?

  ‘A good deal, huh?’ He screwed up his eyes, pretending to ponder. ‘So apart from having my lowly status elevated to Seaborn level, what do I get out of this marriage?’

  The intent behind his question registered, if the faint blush staining her cheeks a beguiling pink and the aquamarine sparks in her eyes were any indication.

  ‘You’re talking about sex?’

  There she went again, blowing him away with her bluntness. He’d never met a woman like her: bold, brazen, not afraid to speak her mind.

  It turned him on, big time.

  His gaze fell to her chest, rising and falling in time with her rapid breathing, before sweeping up to meet hers in blatant challenge.

  ‘The thought had crossed my mind.’

  She folded her arms, but not before he’d glimpsed the telltale peak of her nipples.

  She loved this as much as
he did.

  Defiant, she met his gaze dead-on. ‘It would only complicate things.’

  ‘Are you sure? It could also make this marriage mighty interesting.’

  A vein pulsed in her neck and he resisted the urge to reach out and touch it.

  She shook her head. ‘Uh-uh. Why add confusion to an already difficult situation?’

  He chuckled. ‘Your wooing technique needs a little work.’

  He tapped his temple. ‘Let’s see. I’d be shackling myself to you in a sexless difficult situation.’

  He snapped his fingers. ‘Hell yeah, sounds like something I’d do.’

  Her eyes narrowed, sparking defiance. ‘I don’t like being mocked.’

  ‘And I don’t like being played for a fool.’

  He stepped forward, enjoying having the upper hand when she backtracked a tad. ‘As a win-win business proposal, I can see the mutual benefits in this. But we’re adults. We’re attracted to one another. There’s no reason why we shouldn’t indulge in a little bedroom recreation while the marriage lasts.’

  To her credit, she eyeballed him but he noted the nervous tics: the fingers plucking at her dress’s sash, the clenched jaw, the crimson staining her ears.

  He decided to up the ante. ‘Of course, I might like it out of the bedroom too. Is that still viable in our agreement?’

  She blushed but didn’t look away and his admiration notched higher.

  ‘So let me get this straight. According to your terms we marry, we have sex and we both gain from the arrangement businesswise.’

  She made it sound like an unappealing transaction.

  He admired her chutzpah but couldn’t shake the feeling she wasn’t telling him everything.

  ‘That’s it. Take it or leave it,’ he said flatly.

  He could see an emotional battle warring in her expressive eyes. She’d do anything to save her family business, including propose an outlandish marriage to a guy she hardly knew, a guy whom she’d booted out of her apartment last night with a resounding ‘when hell freezes over’ in response to his takeover bid.

  She had to be mighty desperate to do this, and the fact he’d pushed his luck by insisting on sex? Underhanded.

  Not that she’d agree to it—but he enjoyed pushing her buttons.

  ‘No sex.’ Her fiery green-eyed gaze radiated enough heat to burn him to the core and he couldn’t help but fantasise how sensational those sparks would translate to the bedroom. ‘That’s a deal-breaker,’ she said.