Paper Marriages: Wife: Bought and Paid For / His Convenient Marriage / A Convenient Wife. JACQUELINE BAIRD
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started the car. ‘I could hardly believe my eyes when I saw Mr Maffeiano, but I always thought he would come back.’
What news? Penny was about to ask when Solo cut in. ‘How could I possibly stay away from you any longer, Brownie? I really missed your cooking.’
‘Oh, Mr Maffeiano.’ Penny looked on in astonishment as Brownie moved forward and patted Solo on the back. ‘You are such a one.’
It got no better when they were safely back indoors.
‘I better explain to Brownie…’ Penny started to say, but Solo ignored her.
‘You will find a bottle of champagne in the fridge, Brownie. Will you join us in a little celebration?’
Brownie smiled—well, more of a simper, Penny thought nastily.
‘Well, I don’t usually drink, but for you, yes, I will.’
‘For us, Brownie.’ Solo moved to Penny’s side.
‘Wait a minute,’ Penny demanded, turning stormy eyes up to him. ‘Where did the champagne come from?’
Dark and with a devilish grin, Solo curved an arm around her shoulders. ‘I brought it with me, darling, and put it in the fridge while you showered after—’
‘Yes, okay,’ she cut him off, horrified he was going to tell Brownie how they had spent the afternoon.
He squeezed her shoulder, his smile mocking the blushing confusion she could not hide from him. ‘Darling, Brownie must be the first to know we are getting married.’
CHAPTER FIVE
‘HOW do you feel?’ Solo asked, his brow furrowed in concern. ‘It never entered my head you might be afraid of flying.’
Strapped into a flight seat, one hand gripping the armrest as if her life depended on it, Penny managed to turn her head and glance up at Solo leaning over her.
Trust him to look incredibly attractive and disgustingly fit, while she felt like death. He was wearing a pale linen suit and a white shirt open at the neck. The suit had appeared from the back of his car yesterday along with the champagne and an overnight bag. Penny didn’t believe for one moment that he always travelled with a change of clothes prepared for any eventuality as he had said. She suspected he had had a much more sinister reason. If she had not fallen into his arms so easily, she was prepared to bet he would have hung around until she did. He was a devious, manipulative swine at the best of times.
Not that she cared in her present state of health. But to give him his due, Solo had called the flight attendant and demanded some water for her, and impatiently he had vacated his safety seat and walked the length of the private jet to get the water himself, such was his concern.
‘I didn’t ask to come to Italy,’ Penny said between clenched teeth. The water had eased her raw throat a little, but she was sure she was going to be sick again, and she had only been in the plane twenty minutes.
‘Open your mouth and swallow this pill,’ Solo demanded, his lean fingers reaching for her lips.
‘What is it?’
‘A travel sickness pill. Just swallow it, you will feel better, trust me,’ Solo soothed, stroking the back of her hand that grasped the armrest. ‘Try and relax, the nausea will pass.’ Meekly opening her mouth, she felt his fingers against her lips as he placed the pill on her tongue. ‘Now have another drink of water.’
With a hand that trembled she lifted the glass to her mouth and swallowed, then, feeling cold, she slid down in the seat in a state of near panic. Solo took the glass from her shaking hand and passed it to the male flight attendant, then sat down again.
‘Feeling better?’ His deep, husky voice was anxious.
‘Not so you’d notice,’ she tried to joke, but her nerves were shot to pieces. ‘I don’t like flying,’ she said with feeling.
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ She saw him stiffen, his jawline taut. ‘I could have done something about it.’ Prising her hand from its deathlike grip on the armrest, he held it firmly in one of his.
‘You never asked.’ His skin was warm and his grip comforting and Penny laid her head back and closed her eyes, feeling marginally better.
‘No, but it’s not that unusual,’ Solo said soothingly, slowly stroking the back of her hand. ‘Lots of people are afraid of flying, but there are excellent medications available to overcome the problem.’
Penny’s lips twisted in a wry grimace. Airsickness was the least of her problems. Her biggest problem was the man gently stroking her hand. It was hardly surprising she was ill after yesterday and a sleepless night. She was an emotional wreck before she ever got on the damn plane!
Until three days ago, she had been a reasonably contented woman. Her childhood had been happy until the death of her mother, but she had battled though her loss, and accepted her father marrying again and loved her half-brother. The only blip on the smooth running of her life had been the summer when she had first met Solo and fallen headlong in love with him, or so she had thought…
But with grim determination she had got over what she saw as his betrayal, and gone to university, passing all her exams. The trauma of losing her father and Veronica was fading and she was on the first step of the ladder to being a successful author of children’s books. She was quiet by nature, but with an inner core of strength that made her fight against adversity.
That was until yesterday afternoon. Before she had been an inexperienced girl who had not discovered the depths of her own sexuality. But Solo had changed all that in a couple of hours, when he had shown her what it was to be a sexually aware woman. She had been struggling with the emotional fallout ever since.
Last night she had watched him charm Brownie. Then he had stood at her side and listened while she’d rung Jane’s mum on her mobile and told her she was going on holiday to Italy for a week, and while she’d spoken with James. Then Solo had called her a coward for not revealing their marriage plans.
Penny had been furious, but later, when he had walked her upstairs to her bedroom, to her shame she had been torn between hoping he would leave her alone, and then, when he’d kissed her goodnight at her door, wishing he wouldn’t. No wonder she’d had a sleepless night.
‘Penny.’
‘Hmm,’ she murmured, her eyelids fluttering open.
Solo looked down at her through thick black lashes, an intimate glance that made her heart miss a beat. ‘Feeling better?’
As if he actually cared… Penny thought mutinously, but bit down on the childish response and hesitated for a moment, listening to her body. ‘Yes, I think I am.’ She sighed in relief. The nausea had gone.
Solo sank back in his seat, and breathed in deeply. Thank God she had got a bit of colour back in her face. Not willing to admit seeing her sick and as pale as a ghost had made him feel as guilty as sin. He had bulldozed Penny into coming to Italy with him. But seeing her ill had terrified him. There were times when he wanted to wring her lovely neck for the way she had rejected him in the past, but other times, like now, when he wanted to cradle her in his arms and comfort her.
He must be getting soft in his old age—then he dismissed the thought; age was not something he wished to dwell on. He cast her a sidelong glance. She was resting her head back, the elegant arch of her throat exposed by the open neck of the blue blouse she was wearing, as was the shadowy cleavage of her luscious breasts. He felt a tightening in his groin. What the hell was he thinking of? The girl was ill!
‘So, Penny, tell me,’ he said, calmly determined to divert his wayward thoughts. ‘How is it in the twenty-first century a woman of your age is still terrified of flying? Surely you must have tried to get over your fear before now. I know you and your family fly down to the South of France at least a couple of times a year.’
‘There are such things as boats and trains,’ Penny