Nicola Marsh - Contract To Marry

She’d looked incredible in that black dress with the neckline cut high enough to be classy yet low enough to entice. He’d been impressed, from her sleek hair—it must’ve taken her at least an hour to straighten those gorgeous curls he’d admired when they first met—to her sequined sandals and everything in between. In fact, he’d had a hard time keeping his mind on the conversation when his attention kept wandering to the ‘everything in between’.

Though he had gained one pertinent fact. The lady thought he couldn’t lighten up.

Well, he would show her.

THANKS to her psychology background, Fleur always analysed any date with a male, from the way he’d looked at her to what he’d said, and unfortunately her date with Darcy sent her analytical brain into overtime.

Date? Where had that come from? He’d taken her on a business dinner, not a date, and the sooner she remembered that the better.

So what if he’d plied her with fine food and wine, asking personal questions to appear as if he was genuinely interested in her? She knew what he’d been playing at—any boss worth his weight would interrogate a new employee like that, especially one who was investing so much time and money into saving his ailing company.

It wasn’t his fault that her overactive imagination had taken flight and read more into it. Despite her best intentions to appear professional, her guard had slipped several times and she’d actually found herself responding to him like a woman, not an employee. Not that he hadn’t encouraged her a tad; she could’ve sworn she glimpsed desire in his eyes several times, and each time her body had betrayed her with a hot rush of anticipation that still left her slightly breathless.

Thankfully, she hadn’t seen much of him since dinner two nights ago. Whenever she’d been interviewing his employees, he’d been holed up in his dreary office or off on some buying expedition, giving her free rein within the office and some control over her peace of mind.

However, she’d known it wouldn’t last and today she had to present her completed business plan to him, a situation which should’ve thrilled her yet didn’t. She’d done a thorough job and should be proud of herself—however, how did she tell him the truth without denting the man’s ego in the process? Or worse yet, stirring his wrath to the point where he might fire her?

She’d dressed to impress, knowing that presenting a front would be the first step in calming her nerves. However, the minute she walked into Darcy’s office and he looked up at her with that all-seeing stare, she wished she’d chosen something more conservative than the bottle-green skirt that skimmed her knees and the matching jacket which gave a glimpse of black camisole underneath.

‘Coffee?’ he offered.

She shook her head—she was wired up enough already!

‘How’s the plan looking?’ He gestured towards the uncomfortable seat and she knew that would be the first piece of furniture to go.

‘All done.’ She resisted the urge to tug her skirt down as she sat, knowing he watched her every move.

He sat back, a smirk playing around the corners of his mouth. ‘Let me have it.’

She stared at his lips, wondering how she could’ve judged them as being thin that first day they’d met in the café. He had great lips and the longer she stared at them, the more curious she became to know exactly how they might feel plastered against hers.

He leaned forward and reached out for the cup of coffee on the desk in front of him, allowing her valuable time to recompose herself whilst he took a sip. So much for playing it cool. Focusing on his lips had set her body on fire and she hoped her raised temperature didn’t reflect in her fiery cheeks.

She cleared her throat. ‘Before I present this, I need to know if you’re ready.’

‘Ready and raring.’ He smiled, sending her heart hammering as she glimpsed a spark of desire in his eyes.

Looking at the documents in her hands, which shook slightly as she rearranged the papers for the hundredth time since they’d come off the printer that morning, she wrenched her attention back to the task at hand. ‘I’ve prepared this plan with one aim in mind and that’s to get your business back on track, as you requested. In doing this, I’ve spent time with most of your staff, who are more than loyal, yet I managed to read between the lines.’

‘Oh?’ The smile faded, only to be replaced by the frown that intimidated her.

Quelling her nerves with effort, she continued. ‘Your team have a genuine love of their jobs, they have a shared purpose and trust in the company’s mission statement and are keen to see progression within the organisation.’

‘But?’

Trying to stall for time, she placed the documents on the desk and clasped her hands in her lap, wishing he wasn’t so darn intuitive. She’d given him all the positives first, yet, being an astute businessman, he’d known she’d left the most important information out.

‘It’s not enough.’ She looked away and focused her attention on the dull picture behind him, of a sailing ship battling murky waters. Yet another indication that this dreary office needed an overhaul.

‘Tell me, Fleur. I want to hear it all.’

She braced herself for a possible eruption and stared him straight in the eye. ‘You’ve lost your spark. I get the feeling that your employees are having a hard time appearing interested in their work when the boss walks in here every day and looks like he’s shouldering the weight of the world.’

He ran a finger around the inside of his collar, as if her statement along with his tie were choking him. ‘Continue.’

‘Though they didn’t say it in as many words, I knew what they were implying. It’s difficult to appear perky when you trudge in here as if it’s the last place you want to be.’ She spoke in a rush, trying to get the words out in a hurry and thus prevent him from interrupting and shredding the last of her resolve to tell him the truth. ‘And it isn’t just your attitude. Take this office, for instance.’ She gestured around her. ‘It’s dull and lifeless. Anyone who sets foot in here would want to escape ASAP.’ She wriggled back in her seat as if to prove a point. ‘Me included. I hate this chair!’

‘Are you quite finished?’

She flushed, his icy tone scaring her more than she cared to admit. ‘Here. It’s all documented.’

He took the report from her and threw it on his desk, adding it to the growing pile of paperwork already stashed in his in-tray. ‘I’ll read it later. So, now that you’ve discovered the problem, what’s the solution?’

He planted his hands on the desk and towered over her, the thunderous look on his face intimidating her more than the quietly controlled fury in his voice.

‘I teach you how to have fun.’

Darcy sat down in his chair again, stunned by Fleur’s solution to his business problems. She stared at him with those wide chocolate-brown eyes without blinking and, with a jolt, he realised she was serious.

He laughed, a bitter sound that echoed through the room. ‘You’re kidding, right? You want to teach me how to have fun?’

‘That’s right.’ She nodded, almost dislodging the weird bun arrangement perched precariously on top of her head. He preferred her hair loose and swinging across her shoulders the way she’d worn it at dinner or, better yet, curling seductively around her face like the first memorable time he’d seen her.

‘Let me get this straight. I need to learn how to have fun?’

She blushed again and he had a strong urge to reach across the desk and cup her cheek in his hand. ‘More like you need to loosen up and remember what it was like, perhaps?’