Ally Blake - Untamed Billionaires - Marriage - For Business or Pleasure? / Getting Red-Hot with the Rogue / One Night with the Rebel Billionaire

By his compressed lips and grim expression, apparently so.

Feigning nonchalance she didn’t feel, she waved her hand towards the stack of paperwork on the table in front of her.

‘The photographer’s been out to the plantation every day this week and taken loads of shots. The cameraman’s due out there tomorrow, and I’m collating some of the historical info I got from your grandfather’s ledgers. So everything’s coming along nicely.’

He crossed the room, perched on the edge of the table, her eyes now level with his crotch, and she quickly stood, not needing to look there considering she’d been having bad thoughts a few moments ago.

‘You’ve been busy.’

‘Loads to do. I’ve got a task list a mile long today, including heading out to the plantation to scout more locations, checking the ones I’ve already chosen, making sure they match the information I’m in the process of adding to the pitch—’

‘Hang on.’

His hand shot out, gripping hers and preventing her from putting some much-needed distance between them.

Trying not to show how much his simple touch affected her, she raised an eyebrow.

‘What’s up?’

Shaking his head, he squeezed her hand before releasing it. ‘I’m no good at this.’

‘At what?’

‘This whole fake marriage thing.’

‘Oh, thaaat.’

Well, well, well, maybe the tension was getting to him after all.

‘Not used to sharing a suite, huh?’

He must’ve heard her teasing tone but rather than smile, he fixed her with a piercing stare.

‘Not used to sharing a suite with you.’

Right then she knew, no matter how cool Nick was playing it, how busy he was, he was just as rattled by their underlying attraction as she was.

‘Oh? I thought it’d be a breeze.’

She waltzed around the room, picking up floral skirts and summer dresses and the odd piece of lingerie or two.

Okay, so she wasn’t playing fair with the lingerie but, hey, she wanted to get a reaction out of him, and if the tortured look that flickered across his face as she twirled an ebony satin bra on the end of her finger before tossing it into a drawer was any indication, her plan was working.

‘A breeze? More like a damn tropical cyclone,’ he muttered, shoving off the table and heading for the wide window affording a glorious view of Noosa beach.

‘I’m getting to you, aren’t I?’

She snuck up behind him, just stopping short of sliding her arms around his waist and laying her head against his back.

He didn’t turn, keeping his gaze fixed on the stunning view.

‘I guess this business arrangement of ours isn’t quite what I expected.’

‘That’s because we share a past, you dufus.’

Oops. Had she really said that out loud?

By the speed at which he turned to face her, she had.

An endearing smile curled his lips. ‘Dufus?’

‘I’ve called you worse.’

His eyes darkened as they hovered on her mouth, as if he was remembering everything she’d ever called him and more.

‘Yeah, I remember.’

She’d come this far, might as well go for broke.

‘What else do you remember?’

Silence stretched between them, surprising her. Nick might be many things, but chicken wasn’t one of them. She’d called his bluff, expecting some kind of answer even if it was a dismissive smart-ass remark.

Just when she’d given up, he finally reached out and twirled a strand of her hair around his finger.

‘I remember you wore your hair long, to your waist. I remember how you used to squeal on the back of my bike as I rounded the bends.’

He tugged on her hair, bringing her closer…and closer…and closer until there was a whisper between them.

‘But most of all, I remember how you made me feel back then.’

Unexpected emotion clogged her throat, effectively clouding her sweep-me-into-your-arms fantasy.

She’d wanted to prove the sizzle existed between them, wanted to tease him, wanted to get a reaction out of him. The last thing she’d expected was this serious trip down memory lane from a guy who acted as if they didn’t have a past most of the time.

‘How did I make you feel?’

He was so close his breath feathered her lips, sending a ripple of longing so intense through her it took her breath away.

‘Like I could make all our dreams come true.’

She sighed, wishing he hadn’t pushed her away, wishing he’d said yes when she’d asked him to move away with her all those years ago, wishing he had made her dreams come true.

He was all she’d ever wanted, until her freedom became all important.

She’d thought she’d had it all, convinced he’d move to London and they’d have the life they wanted. Until he’d withdrawn from her, shutting her out emotionally, physically, citing work and study and family as a means not to see her.

She’d persisted, convinced they were meant to be together, captivated by the occasional glimpse of the guy she’d fallen in love with, wary of what he’d become the harder she pushed for them to leave town.

Her dreams had been big, had been big enough for both of them. But Nick wasn’t the dream-maker she’d been foolish once to believe he was.

Acknowledging their attraction was one thing, opening her heart another, and while she wanted him now more than ever she knew nothing had changed.

He still wouldn’t follow her to London even if she were crazy enough to ask.

‘Nick, I don’t think—’

‘Then don’t. Think, that is,’ he murmured, a second before his lips locked on hers in the softest heartbreaking kiss that reached all the way down to her soul.

It lasted less than a few seconds, a fleeting glimpse of tenderness rarely seen from this passionate man, and when he raised his head, brushed her bottom lip with a fingertip and walked away, she was left reeling.

Reeling with the knowledge she still believed in dreams.

And his ability to make all hers come true.

Nick entered the marquee, his gaze immediately drawn to the stunning woman in a white dress chatting to the richest guy in the State.

Brittany looked incredible, a soft, clingy Grecian-style dress fastened on one shoulder with a silver clip, leaving her other deliciously bare, her hair piled up with soft golden streaks falling softly around her face and just enough make-up to enhance her beauty.

Hell . Just looking at her from a distance was making him crazy; what hope did he have up close?

Sure, she looked like a supermodel tonight but he still couldn’t erase the image of her clad in that supersized robe on their wedding night.

He’d lied about the robe being contraception on legs. The minute he’d caught his first glimpse of her, framed in the bathroom doorway with vulnerability written all over her face, he’d wanted to cross the room, haul her into his arms and never let go.

That had been one hell of a night.

Not for the reason he might’ve anticipated, considering she fired his libido as no other woman ever had or probably ever would.

He’d lain awake for hours, listening to the soft sounds of her breathing, wishing things could’ve turned out differently between them, silently chastising himself for being a bloody fool.

He’d thought by getting her to talk about the past, she might relax, learn to trust him again. Instead, she’d fed him some lame excuse about why she’d run away and he’d been the stupid one to blurt out he still cared. Go figure?

Thankfully, the last fortnight had passed in a frenetic blur with finalising details for the new Caribbean hotel and, apart from that slight aberration yesterday when he’d almost made a pathetic declaration of how much he liked having her around, they’d managed to maintain a polite distance.