Marriage: For Business or Pleasure? Page 5

  Man, had she pushed his buttons back then and he hoped to God he’d grown out of it, whatever it was.

  He didn’t have time for emotions in this marriage. It was business, pure and simple. He had more important matters to consider, such as building his profile with investors, expanding into new cities and upping profit margins.

  ‘You loved every minute of it. Remember that time I put a toad in your bag?’

  She rolled her eyes, a smile twitching at the corners of her glossed lips. ‘Oh yeah, I really loved that. Not!’

  ‘How about the garlic I rubbed into your Spandau Ballet T-shirt?’

  Her lips twitched more. ‘You were a jerk.’

  ‘What about the shed incident?’

  ‘Which one?’

  Her lips curved into a small, secretive smile and he clenched his hands into fists and thrust them into his pockets to prevent them reaching for her.

  ‘The time you had me shovelling manure or the time you opened your mouth and poured the verbal variety on me so I’d fall into your arms?’

  ‘Ouch!’ He clutched at his heart. ‘You haven’t changed a bit, Red. That hurt.’

  ‘And you haven’t changed a bit either, still shovelling it in the hope to distract me. Now, can we get back to the topic of my father?’

  She was onto him. Always had been, seeing right through his tough-guy act, reducing him to a love-struck schmuck around her.

  Correction, lust-struck schmuck.

  Big difference there. He’d never loved Brittany. Liked her, lusted after her but he’d never dared love her.

  He didn’t do love.

  Love equalled loss and loneliness and pain, emotions he could do without.

  Folding his arms, he leaned back in the rickety chair. If he couldn’t deflect her attention, he’d have to give her some snippet of the truth to placate her before they tackled more important matters, like the question of their impending nuptials.

  ‘You know how much your dad hated any guy who came near you. Why dredge all this up now?’

  She gnawed at her bottom lip, fiddled with the edge of her short skirt. He’d never seen her this nervous before.

  Well, maybe on one other occasion, the night she’d asked him to go away with her, the night he’d made the final break.

  Until yesterday, he’d convinced himself he’d made the right decision. Women were unpredictable, erratic creatures who couldn’t be depended on. Then Brittany Lloyd walked back into his life, making him re-evaluate his choice and think a whole lot of ‘what-ifs’.

  What if he’d gone away with her?

  What if they’d made a life together?

  What if they fell in love and lived happily ever after?

  Yeah, like happy-ever-afters ever happened in the real world.

  ‘Because I visited him yesterday.’ She raised stricken eyes to his and it took every ounce of will power not to reach out, bundle her into his arms and comfort her. ‘He hasn’t changed a bit.’

  He swallowed the bitterness that rose at the thought of Darby Lloyd and his far-reaching tentacles poisoning everything and everyone around him, including this remarkably special woman.

  He hadn’t blamed her for running away. He’d wondered what took her so long.

  Unable to resist, he reached out and took hold of her hand, surprised and more than a little grateful when she let him. ‘Want to know what I think?’

  She nodded, her eyes wide with pain.

  ‘You’ve moved on. From what you’ve told me, you’re a successful businesswoman with one hell of a career so don’t let the past suck you back in.’

  He squeezed her hand, trailed his thumb across the back of it. ‘It’s not worth it.’

  Brittany couldn’t meet his gaze; it was far too kind. Far too full of memories.

  ‘Thanks,’ she muttered, and made an angry swipe at her eyes, dashing away the tears pooled there. She’d done nothing but make a fool of herself since she’d arrived in Jacaranda: making assumptions about Nick, letting him kiss her, hoping her father had changed. She didn’t need to start blubbering like a two-year-old to top it off.

  Teasing Nick she could handle. Compassionate Nick, holding her hand and staring at her with unquestionable warmth in his eyes, had the potential to undo her completely.

  ‘Hey, don’t cry.’

  He leaned over and brushed away the tears that had spilled over and run down her cheeks.

  Great. Just her luck she hadn’t worn waterproof mascara today.

  ‘Jet lag catching up with me,’ she muttered, blinking rapidly only to find a veritable flood seeping out of her eyes.

  ‘Come here, you.’

  Before she could protest, Nick hauled her into his arms and cradled her close, smoothing her hair, making small crooning noises. Being enveloped in his strong arms, her face pressed against hard chest wall, surrounded by his familiar scent of sugar and spice and all things nice, should’ve soothed her.

  It didn’t. Being held by Nick dammed her tears but it resurrected a host of feelings that had nothing to do with comfort.

  Desire seeped through her body as he continued stroking her hair, rendering her powerless to move. She couldn’t have pulled away if she wanted to. And, God help her, she didn’t want to.

  She inhaled deeply, allowing the heady combination of sugar-cane sweetness, metal polish and tropical sunshine to flood her lungs, enjoying the momentary lapse in reason as she wished he could hold her like this for ever.

  Sliding her arms around his waist, she allowed her hands the luxury of smoothing across hard muscle, revelling in the heat radiating through his cotton T-shirt.

  Closing her eyes, she sighed, knowing there was no place in the world she’d rather be than right here.

  London was her life now, the vibrant city a part of her new persona but even with her career shooting into the stratosphere, at times like this, in the warm embrace of an incredible man, it wasn’t enough.

  She’d tried to forget Nick, had rarely succeeded: wondering what he was doing, who he was doing it with, where they would be if he’d said yes to her all those years ago.

  ‘You okay now?’

  He pulled back with such swiftness she almost fell off her chair.

  ‘Yeah, thanks.’

  She scanned his face for an indication of what he was thinking, but true to form the Mancini mask had slipped into place, leaving her wondering what was going on behind those enigmatic dark eyes. She’d seen it their last night together ten years ago, the night he’d broken her heart.

  ‘We have other business to discuss.’

  Her heart sank.

  For those all too brief moments when he’d held her, she’d forgotten the reason she’d requested this meeting. But the thought of her father, as poisonous as a puffer fish, leaped to mind and she knew she had to do this.

  It was the only way.

  She needed this promotion now more than ever, needed the money to clear a debt she’d never known existed and the sooner that was done, the better. Then she’d finally be free.

  ‘You’re right, we do need to talk.’

  She twisted a strand of hair around her finger, a habit she’d long conquered, before belatedly releasing it. What was it about this guy that obliterated the last ten years as if they’d never happened and thrust her back to a time she’d rather forget?

  ‘I have an answer to your proposal.’

  ‘And?’

  He propped against the bike, looking every bit the bad boy rebel he’d once been: dark, devastating, delicious.

  She swallowed, her throat clenching with how much she still wanted him after all this time.

  He might’ve proposed a marriage for business purposes but deep down she knew there wasn’t a chance in hell she’d be able to keep her hands off him. And considering he’d kissed her, twice, she had an inkling the feeling was mutual.

  So where did that leave them? What would the boundaries of their marriage be? Monogamous? Casual?

  He straightene
d, stepped closer to her.

  ‘Stop over-analysing this. Give me your answer and we’ll go from there.’

  With her heart pounding and heat from his proximity prickling her skin, she wrenched her gaze from his chest within tantalising touching distance and slowly raised it until wavering blue locked with questioning brown.

  Her voice barely above a whisper, she nodded.

  ‘My answer is yes.’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  NICK snuck in the side entrance of the conference room, not wanting to intrude but driven by curiosity.

  Since Britt had agreed to his proposal, she’d morphed into a businesswoman dervish, throwing herself into work at a speed that made him, a confirmed workaholic, seem like a snail.

  She’d commandeered the business centre of the hotel, had turned this room into a hive of activity.

  In less than a day.

  He shook his head, beyond impressed at her work ethic. He’d never seen her like this: focused, determined, driven, issuing orders and delegating to the team she’d assembled in record time.

  Watching her in a power suit the colour of ripe plums, her hair twisted in a fancy topknot and her brow creased in concentration while she tapped on a keyboard with one hand and shuffled documents with the other, he understood why she’d said yes to his proposal.

  Her job meant everything to her and, while he empathised with her ambition, he couldn’t help but wish some of her agreement stemmed from the sexual tension strumming between them.

  A surge of heat at the memory of kissing her had him sliding a finger between his neck and suddenly too tight collar.

  Their marriage might be motivated by business, but who said they couldn’t have a real honeymoon?

  Her head snapped up and their gazes locked, as if he’d inadvertently telepathised his thoughts and he grinned, sent her a half-salute, not surprised when she frowned and gestured towards the stack of paperwork in front of her.

  She didn’t want him here.

  His cue to saunter across the room and drop into the vacant chair next to her.

  ‘How’s it going?’

  Frowning, she barely glanced at him. ‘Busy.’

  ‘So I see.’

  ‘Don’t you have work of your own to do?’

  Leaning back, he linked his fingers and stretched. ‘I’m taking a break.’

  He smothered an outright laugh as she glared. ‘Anything I can do to help?’

  ‘No, all under control.’

  Her laptop screen flickered and she swore, making a mockery of her previous statement.

  ‘I’ve got the latest technology in my office if you need it.’

  ‘I said I was fine,’ she snapped, rubbing the bridge of her nose before mustering an apologetic smile. ‘Sorry. I’m used to having my team around me in London. It’s harder trying to get a cohesive unit together so quickly here.’

  ‘Why the rush?’

  He knew she’d see right through his innocuous question, knew she’d understand what he was really asking was ‘how long are you sticking around?’

  With her gaze firmly fixed on her laptop screen, she said, ‘Deadlines. I’m sure you understand.’

  Placing a hand on her arm, he leaned across to murmur in her ear. ‘How long, Red?’

  She stared at his hand as if it were a tiger snake before finally raising her eyes to his.

  ‘I don’t know. This pitch is big. Huge. The MD didn’t set an exact timeline but he knows I’m a fast worker. As long as I deliver, it’s up to me.’

  He wanted to push the issue, wanted to discuss how long they’d have to make this marriage as real as it could get, but now wasn’t the time or place.

  Squeezing her arm, he released her and glanced at his watch. ‘I do have an appointment, but we should get together later to discuss our other business.’

  Her eyes widened as the pen in her right hand started rapping a frenetic rhythm against the Manila folder in front of her.

  Amazing how the mention of their pending marriage could change her from uber-cool career-woman to nervous Nelly.

  ‘I’m not sure how long I’ll be here. I have loads to do, then I need to head out to the farm—’

  ‘Perfect. We can discuss our plans over dinner.’

  She opened her mouth to refuse and he raised an eyebrow, daring her to disagree.

  ‘Not having second thoughts, are you? Because if you are, I might have to expedite the sale of the farm and—’

  ‘Fine, I’ll see you there.’

  The coolness in her tone belied the angry flush creeping up her neck as he marvelled again at how damn important this promotion must be for her to go through with this.

  Marrying for convenience occurred a fair bit in the business world, but never in his wildest dreams had he thought he’d do it, let alone to the only woman he would’ve ever contemplated walking down the aisle with once upon a time.

  ‘Glad that’s settled.’

  He stood, looked down at her elaborate hairdo, his fingers itching to tug the pins out and send the whole thing tumbling around her shoulders.

  As if sensing his thoughts again, she tilted back on the chair, glared at him. ‘Was there anything else, because you’re hovering?’

  With a smile designed to provoke a response, he ducked down to murmur in her ear. ‘I’ll cook, but I hope you remember how much I love dessert.’

  As the pen picked up tempo again he chuckled, snatched a hairpin and laid it on the stack of paperwork in front of her, before heading for the door.

  ‘I brought dessert.’

  Brittany held out the store-bought lemon meringue pie, wishing Nick would take the damn thing before it tumbled from her shaking hands.

  This dinner was supposed to set her mind at rest, a pre-wedding get-together to discuss plans and take the edge off her nerves.

  So far, it wasn’t working.

  ‘Thanks, looks delicious.’

  His gaze flicked over her, appreciation lighting his eyes, and she had no doubt he wasn’t talking about the pie.

  She’d spent an hour deciding what to wear, aiming for casual yet wanting to make him look twice. After five changes she’d finally decided on caramel suede trousers sitting low on her hips and a chocolate rib top that fitted like a second skin. The warm tones highlighted her hair and skin to perfection, or so some stylist had told her at Harrods.

  In London, she’d taken her appearance for granted, spending a small fortune on clothes and accessories to fit the image of a top marketing consultant. She dressed to impress, was used to it. That was her excuse for wanting to look her best tonight. Yeah, right.

  ‘What’s for dinner?’

  She headed for the stove in an attempt to escape Nick’s intense stare.

  ‘Antipasto for starters, home-made ravioli filled with asparagus and leeks, smothered in a four-cheese herb sauce for main.’

  He picked up a ladle, lifted a pot lid and stirred, the delicious aroma of melted cheese and garlic filling the kitchen and making her mouth water.

  ‘You make your own pasta?’

  She raised an eyebrow, beyond impressed. How did the guy find time to run a hotel, do stuff around the farm and be a whiz in the kitchen?

  He cocked a hip and shrugged, deliciously smug and modest at the same time.

  ‘What can I say? I’m a regular Neil Perry.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Australia’s equivalent to Jamie Oliver,’ he said, sprinkling fresh chopped parsley into the pot, sending her a cheeky grin that notched up the heat in the kitchen.

  Either that or she was taking a lot longer to acclimatise to the Jacaranda humidity than expected.

  ‘I’m impressed. Is there anything you can’t do?’

  ‘No, though I guess I’m better at some things than others.’

  He winked and turned back to the stove, his attention riveted to the pot bubbling away while an embarrassing blush crept into her cheeks.

  Oh, yeah, she remembered exactly how good he was at some
things, which was why she grabbed the cutlery off the sideboard, trying to remember the difference between left and right as she struggled to place knives, forks and spoons in their right place.

  She’d been insane to agree to his marriage proposal, absolutely stark, raving mad to think she could remain businesslike for the length of their marriage—yet another thing they had to decide tonight. For she was in little doubt this platonic union would have a time limit.

  He’d asked as much earlier and she’d had no idea how to respond, didn’t want to think beyond this pitch and what she had to do to secure her promotion.

  Marriage to Nick, a business deal. And business deals had set time frames, both parties aware of how long the proposed business would take right from the start.

  So why the sudden pang in the vicinity of her heart?

  Once the table was set, she picked up the pasta bowls and took them to the stove.

  ‘We’ve got a lot to talk about tonight.’

  He held up a hand. ‘Not on an empty stomach. Let’s eat first.’

  ‘Fine with me.’

  But it wasn’t fine, none of this was, and while they made polite small talk over his fabulous pasta she couldn’t forget the real reason she was here: to set the boundaries of their marriage.

  An event she’d dreamed of ten years ago, had planned in her head to the nth degree: strolling towards her incredible groom under the shade of their favourite jacaranda tree down by the river, him in a casual suit with his shirt collar open, the wind ruffling his too-long-to-be-neat hair, her in a flowing ivory silk minidress made for strolling down by the river after she’d married the man of her dreams.

  Somehow, the quick, impersonal ceremony in front of a minister they would now go through didn’t have the same ring to it.

  There went her heart again, squeezing tight, hurting enough to show, no matter how much she pretended this was all business, she knew, deep down, she was selling her soul.

  Nick tried not to stare at Brittany, he really did, but it was like trying not to look at the sun glistening on Jacaranda River first thing in the morning or the moon rising over a glittering Noosa at night.