Nicola Marsh - The Wedding Contract

He’d been accused of many things in his lifetime, mostly by his opposition on deals they had lost. None of the barbs or insults he’d had to put up with in the past came close to affecting him as much as this woman’s inference that he was here to rip her world apart.

‘I’m not taking sides. I’m just doing my job.’ He spoke the truth, so why did it sound so lame?

She started to walk away and waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. ‘Whatever lets you sleep at night.’

He strode after her, grabbed her arm and swung her around to face him. ‘Look, if there’s anything I can do to help, just let me know.’

What was he doing, co-operating with the little league when he’d come here to play hard ball?

She leaned into him, and for one irrational minute he thought she might kiss him. ‘There is something you can do for me.’

He inhaled, savouring the sandalwood fragrance that drifted up from her nearness. He’d smelled something similar earlier, thinking it was the incense burning in a corner of the tent. Now, her scent wrapped around him like an ancient spell, one he couldn’t resist.

‘What is it?’ He refrained from saying he would do anything for her. In fact, he would walk over hot coals for another taste of her delicious mouth.

She stared directly at him, that already too-familiar fire flashing in her eyes. ‘Get lost.’

In an instant she’d wrenched her arm free of his grip and stalked away, head held high.

He willed her to look back but she didn’t. Too bad. He wanted her to see his smug grin.

If there was one thing he loved more than making money it was a challenge, and the feisty Amber Lawrence had just waved a red cape, leaving him pawing the ground in frustration and ready to charge.

AMBER believed in karma. If you treated others badly, it would come back to you tenfold. Now, after the way she’d spoken to Steve Rockwell earlier, she had her comeuppance.

‘Are you sure you can’t make the meeting, Dad?’ She tugged at the hem of her skirt, feeling more than a tad self-conscious in the mini cocktail dress.

‘I’m sorry, love. If I go out this headache is sure to turn into a full-blown migraine. Besides, you can handle it. You’re my right-hand woman.’ He winked at her, though it turned into a wince as he lay back on the bed and rubbed his temples.

‘I know, but you’re the one who needs to make the final decision.’ The skirt wouldn’t co-operate and rode halfway up her thighs as soon as she let go. It had been too long since she’d bought any clothes, not that it usually mattered. However, with a meeting this important she wanted to look her best and unfortunately the three-year-old dress had seen better days.

‘Just listen to what he has to say,’ her dad continued. ‘You don’t need to agree on anything immediately. We’ll discuss it in the morning, OK?’

Guilt flooded her as he closed his eyes. Why was she making such a big deal out of a meeting she could handle with one hand tied behind her back?

Because it wasn’t so much the dinner meeting her dad had scheduled that was the problem but the man she had to share the meal with.

‘Besides, Mr Rockwell sounded quite reasonable over the phone. I’m sure you two will get along just fine.’

She leaned down and kissed her dad on the cheek, hoping he was right. ‘Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll let you know how it went in the morning. And don’t forget, ring me if you need me.’

He waved her away. ‘Stop fussing. I just need to sleep.’

As she looked down upon her father’s leather-worn face as he drifted off to sleep, her heart swelled with love. He’d given her the best life possible, nurturing and protecting her throughout the vulnerable teenage years after her mum had passed away. She couldn’t have wished for a better father, and the least she could do was put up with an obnoxious lawyer for one evening.

She tiptoed from the room and wondered where the meeting would take place. She hadn’t eaten out for ages, not since her last date six months ago. There hadn’t been much time for dating lately, with all her attention focused on saving the business. Besides, the local guys just didn’t do it for her.

A loud knock on the door set her nerves jumping. Checking her reflection in the mirror one last time, she wished that she’d done more with her face. She didn’t wear much make-up as a rule, and the lack of cosmetics made her look too young. Tonight she needed a mask of confidence.

She fixed a welcoming smile on her face and opened the door. ‘Hello.’

She couldn’t think of anything else to say, especially when the last words she’d uttered to this guy were ‘get lost’. To make matters worse, he looked amazing, clad in black trousers and a white shirt unbuttoned at the neck. Casual, yet smart, and, combined with his lethal looks, way too dangerous for her.

‘Ready to go?’ His gaze swept her from head to foot and she had a sudden urge to slam the door in his face and dive under a duvet, especially when he focused on her legs.

‘Sure.’ That was one way to impress him, blind him with riveting conversation.

She gnawed at her bottom lip, wishing she could think of something to say, and followed him to the carnival’s entrance, where people queued for the evening’s performance. Unfortunately, the paltry line would barely pay the overheads in staging the horse show. Just another nail in the coffin.

‘I’ve hired a car for a couple of days. It’s this way.’ She watched him stride towards a low-slung convertible, admiring his long legs and tight butt.

He held the passenger door open for her and she slid into the seat, wondering how many other women he’d tried to impress with his gallant behaviour. Somehow, the thought of him wining and dining countless other women didn’t improve her mood. Not that she should care. Tonight was business, and the sooner she believed it, the better.

‘Figures,’ she said, settling into the comfortable leather seat and watching his long legs fold underneath the steering wheel.

‘Pardon?’ He started the car and pulled away from the kerb, his attention focused on the road ahead.

Thank goodness he’d stopped staring at her. She couldn’t stand the way he’d looked at her as she sat down, probably wondering where she’d picked up the ridiculously short dress and why she was wearing it to an important meeting.

‘The car. It fits.’

‘Are you judging me?’ His voice was low, a warning that she trod on uneven ground.

‘So what if I am?’ Where had that come from? She was here to save her dad’s business, not shoot it down in flames.

‘You’ve got a smart mouth for a woman in no position to bait me. I’m supposed to be the bad guy, remember?’

She tossed back her hair, wishing she’d had the sense to wear it up. How would she look by the time they made it to the restaurant after riding in an open-top? So much for appearing professional.

Rather than backing down, she had a strange urge to match wits with him. ‘I’ve never kowtowed to any guy and I’m not about to start now, regardless of who you are.’

‘Trying to pick a fight with me won’t work,’ he said, hitting a button on the CD-player.

In doing so, his fingers grazed her bare leg and she flinched, unprepared for the swift rush of longing for his hand to do a lot more than just brush against her. What was going on? She’d never reacted to a guy like this, especially one whose head would barely pass through an average-sized doorway.

Serene rainforest sounds filled the car, in stark contrast to her simmering mood, and she wondered why an uptight lawyer would listen to music like this. Why did he annoy her so much? All he had to do was open his mouth and she aimed for his throat, wishing she could tear it out with her bare hands.