Kate Hardy - Taken by the Millionaire - Hotly Bedded, Conveniently Wedded

‘She must’ve hurt you a lot,’ Isobel said softly, curling her fingers round his, ‘for you to avoid a relationship for all these years.’ She couldn’t even remember him bringing anyone back to meet his parents.

‘As I said, it was a long time ago.’

‘And if you’re still hurting …’

‘I’m not. I’m over it.’ Alex sighed. ‘All right. If you have to know the gory details, I was working on my PhD. I was on a dig down on the south coast, and Dorinda lived in the next village. Like most of the locals, she’d come to take a look at what we were doing at the dig. She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen—glamorous, with all that long dark hair and legs that went on for ever.’

So that was why he always dated stick-insect brunettes. Because he was looking for another Dorinda. Right at that moment, Isobel wished she’d never asked.

But Alex was still talking.

‘I was a geeky student who still practically had teenage spots, and I thought she was way out of my reach. But then I found out that she liked me, too.’

Geeky?

Alex had never been geeky, as far as she could remember.

Or covered in spots.

‘We had a drink together, and it snowballed from there into a mad summer affair. I spent every second with her I could. And, yeah, a lot of it was in bed.’ His expression turned grim. ‘She told me she was divorced, or I would never have started seeing her.’

Isobel believed him. Alex had a strong code of honour.

‘I was actually planning to ask her to marry me. I hadn’t got as far as choosing a ring and working out a romantic place to propose, but I was close to it. But then her husband came back. It turned out I was just a diversion because she was bored.’ His smile was tinged with bitterness. ‘I was twenty-two, remember. Still didn’t have a clue how the world worked. And would you believe I was actually stupid enough to say to her that I’d thought she loved me? She just laughed and asked me why on earth she’d want to go off with a student who had no money and no prospects of having any, when her husband was practically a millionaire.’

‘Sounds as if you had a lucky escape.’ She tightened her fingers round his again. ‘Alex, she wasn’t worth it. And if you’ve been hurting all these years over her …’

‘I haven’t been brooding on it, exactly. But it left a nasty taste in my mouth.’ He grimaced. ‘She’d cheated on her husband with me. She’d lied to us both, played us both for a fool. And I hated the fact that she’d used me to hurt someone else.’

‘Not everyone’s like that.’

‘I know. But her husband was away for long periods—just like I was. So it made me stop and think. Supposing I’d got married and left my wife on her own all the time…’

‘Your wife wouldn’t necessarily have cheated on you.’

‘Maybe not intentionally, Bel. But these things happen. With me being away so much, she would’ve been lonely. Vulnerable. An easy target for anyone who showed her the affection she wasn’t getting from me because I wasn’t there. And I didn’t want to take that kind of risk. It was easier to stay single and keep my relationships short and sweet—and to focus on my job.’

‘You’re still going to be away a lot with this job. So do you think I’m going to be unfaithful to you?’ she asked.

‘Of course I don’t.’ His eyes glittered. ‘Apart from the fact that you’re not a liar or a cheat, we’re not going into this all hormonally charged and with rose-coloured glasses on and declaring all the hearts and flowers stuff. And I hope you know that I won’t be unfaithful to you, either.’

‘This feels more like a business arrangement than a marriage.’

‘It’s not a business arrangement. It’s a sensible arrangement,’ Alex said as the taxi pulled up outside her flat. ‘And you and I will never lie to each other, so it’s going to work out just fine.’

Guilt flooded through her. Lies didn’t have to be direct; lies could also be caused by omission. And she was keeping something important from him.

She really had to tell him.

Soon.

He paid the driver, then let them in—almost, she thought, as if he’d lived there for ever and wasn’t just using her spare set of keys. ‘I need to get changed,’ he said.

‘You look good in a suit.’

‘But I hate wearing it. It makes me feel … ‘he clenched his fists and paced up and down the room ‘… “cabin’d, cribb’d, confin’d.”’

‘Ooh, get the drama king,’ she teased. ‘Though you’re more of an Antony than a Macbeth.’

‘What, an ageing roué whose brains are in his trousers?’ He pulled a face. ‘Which makes you a middle-aged tart who doesn’t have the courage of her convictions—and takes a whole act to die, while talking about making the briefest end.’

‘Oi! I like that play,’ she protested.

He smiled. ‘Next time it’s on at the Globe, we’ll go. But before you dive for the what’s on listings, I really need to wash my hair.’

She laughed. ‘You’re being prissy about your hair? Don’t tell me you’re planning to get a haircut, now you’re officially a consultant.’

‘Am I, hell,’ he scoffed. ‘My hair’s fine as it is. Well, when it’s not oiled back so I can fake a Roman haircut.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘Hey, you didn’t happen to bring that strigil home from your Roman beauty kit, did you?’

‘No,’ she said, guessing what he had in mind, ‘and I’m sure you wouldn’t like traditional Roman hygiene.’

‘I dunno.’ His eyes glittered. ‘I quite like the idea of sauntering into a caldarium and having you scrape me off with a strigil.’

She laughed. ‘Alex. You’re impossible.’

‘Who, me?’ he deadpanned. ‘Look, I don’t want to get olive oil all over this suit, so would you mind giving me a hand undressing?’

‘That has to be the most trumped-up excuse I’ve ever heard.’

‘I thought it was quite a good one, actually.’ He gave her a wicked smile. ‘Come and have a shower with me.’

‘Now there’s an offer,’ she said, rolling her eyes. But she slid his jacket from his shoulders and hung it over the back of a chair. He hadn’t put his tie back on when he’d changed out of the toga, and he looked incredibly sexy in dark trousers and a white shirt with the top button undone.

She unbuttoned his shirt, and ran her hands lightly over his chest. ‘Mmm. The barbarian look. I like it.’

‘Do you, now?’ Alex’s response was to make short work of her clothes and the remainder of his own; then he picked her up and carried her into the bathroom.

Isobel laughed. ‘You really are a barbarian, Alex.’

‘Just living up to your view of me.’ He set her on her feet in the bath, stepped in next to her, and switched the water on.

Isobel shrieked. ‘That’s cold!’

‘Don’t be a baby.’ He grabbed the shower gel. ‘All righty—you’re Flavia the patrician matron and I’m your barbarian slave.’

She laughed. ‘Shouldn’t you have scented oil and a strigil if you’re my barbarian slave?’

‘This is much more civilised,’ he said loftily.

‘You? Civilised?’

‘I can be.’ He gave her a lascivious wink, then poured shower gel into his palms, lathered it, and glided his fingers over her skin. ‘Mmm. Bel. Your skin feels nice. Turn round.’

She did so, and he lathered her shoulders and her back, then drew her back against his body. She could feel his erection pressing against her; then he fanned his fingers across her abdomen and then stroked gently upwards until he could cup her breasts.

‘Better still,’ he whispered, kissing the curve of her neck as his thumbs and forefingers played with her nipples.