Wife By Contract, Mistress By Demand. Carole Mortimer
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with this, could he? With marrying her?
Only with a gun held at his head, she conceded ruefully.
Which was pretty much what James was doing!
‘Did I say something amusing, Gabriella?’ Rufus snapped as he obviously saw her rueful smile.
No, she acknowledged heavily, her moment of humour over; if anything the joke was on her!
‘Not particularly, no,’ she sighed. ‘But I can’t see how the two of us going somewhere to talk is going to make any difference to the fact that we don’t want to marry each other.’
‘Surely that depends on how we decide to talk?’ Rufus came back challengingly.
Gabriella gave him a narrow-eyed glance. The last five years had made Rufus harder and more cynical, the lines of that cynisism etched beside his eyes and mouth, the dark blond hair shorter and the muscled length of his body leaner, but Rufus was still the most breathtakingly handsome man she had ever met.
Nerve-tinglingly so if the way she could still feel his hand on her arm was anything to go by.
An attraction that appeared not to have diminished over the years as she had thought…!
Rufus met her startled gaze, knowing as he did so that he hadn’t forgotten a single thing about touching her so intimately five years ago. Or the feel of her slender hands as she had caressed him…
He had been lost the moment he had touched her slender curves, unable to stop touching her until he had taken her over the edge of pleasure, watching her as he had done so, the heat in his own body longing for that same release.
But it was a release he had denied himself, knowing that he couldn’t—daren’t!—lose himself in her silken warmth, that to do so would be to enter a madness he wouldn’t be able to withdraw from.
As he also knew now, every particle of him alive to Gabriella’s sensual beauty, that a part of him had continued to want her ever since…
‘If you’re suggesting what I think you are, then forget it!’ Gabriella glared up at him accusingly, her cheeks suffused with colour.
From anger? he wondered. Or something else…?
‘Pity,’ he drawled mockingly. ‘It might have been—interesting, talking over old times.’
‘We don’t have any “old times” to talk about,’ she assured him determinedly.
‘No.’ He gave a derisive smile. ‘What we have to talk about is the future,’ he added hardly. ‘And we do need to do that, Gabriella,’ he said firmly as she would have protested. ‘Perhaps come to some sort of—compromise,’ he added grimly.
Compromise had never been a word he had associated with thoughts of Gabriella—it was either all or nothing. And until today he had chosen nothing.
Why had his father put that clause in his will?
What possible good could come from forcing the two of them into living as husband and wife, even for six months?
But his father wasn’t here to answer those questions, which only left the two of them to find those answers for themselves.
‘Compromise…?’ Gabriella echoed warily.
She obviously hadn’t associated that word with him before, either, Rufus acknowledged ruefully. But it was something they were going to have to find if they weren’t both to lose everything. And he didn’t seriously believe Gabriella was willing to lose twenty-five million pounds just because she wasn’t willing to marry him and live with him for six months to get it!
His mouth twisted derisively as a couple holding hands, obviously deeply in love if the way they gazed into each other’s eyes was anything to go by, stepped around them as they stood in the middle of the pavement. ‘I really think you’re going to have to come back to Gresham’s with me, Gabriella, because I have no intention of continuing this conversation in the middle of a public street.’
Gresham’s? Gabriella frowned. Why on earth did Rufus want to take her to Gresham’s?
She hadn’t been in the store since before she had moved to France as she’d been very aware of the fact that Rufus had his office on the sixth floor, and could walk onto one of the shop floors at any given moment. She hadn’t wanted to risk even the slightest chance of accidentally bumping into him.
‘I have something I would like to show you,’ he added throatily.
‘Really?’ she came back sceptically.
He nodded. ‘I think you might be impressed.’
Her gaze narrowed at his deliberate provocation. ‘I wasn’t last time,’ she came back tartly.
‘No?’ He raised mocking dark blond brows. ‘That’s not the way I remember it.’
She very much doubted that Rufus remembered their time together in Majorca at all, knowing from James’s worried conversations over the years that Rufus had been involved with numerous women since his divorce six years ago. None of those relationships had been of any duration, but she was sure they certainly made his brief encounter with an overeager eighteen-year-old completely forgettable.
She gave him a saccharin-sweet smile. ‘I believe it’s called selective memory!’
‘Maybe. But which one of us is being selective?’ he came back mockingly.
She should know by now not to engage in verbal confrontation with Rufus. He was just too cynical, too much in control, for her to ever be able to win.
Rufus gave an impatient sigh, this sparring with Gabriella achieving nothing but heightening his awareness of her. Something he could quite well do without at the moment.
‘I actually thought you might want to take a look at what is going to become Gabriella’s,’ he bit out harshly, the thought of Gabriella working in the restaurant, two floors down from his own office, not exactly conducive to a calm working environment.
In fact, none of the simpler emotions came to mind when he thought of Gabriella!
Her eyes widened. ‘You aren’t seriously thinking of complying with the conditions in your father’s will?’
‘Aren’t you?’he came back derisively, Gabriella not resisting this time as he took a light hold of her arm in order to cross the road to where his car was parked.
Rufus was absolutely positive that there was no way this woman would give up the chance to get her hands on that twenty-five million pounds. She was just playing hard to get, or perhaps she thought she could make a separate deal with him, knowing the money wasn’t what he was interested in.
His mouth twisted with distaste as he unlocked the Mercedes for them to get into, deliberately not touching Gabriella again as he moved round to get in behind the wheel.
Was she thinking of marrying him? Gabriella wondered with a frown as she sat in the car next to Rufus, both of them silent as he drove to Gresham’s.
Her immediate answer was no.
A more considered answer was maybe.
Being married to Rufus was the very last thing she wanted, but the alternative was that Toby inherited everything, including her thirty-thousand-pound debt. A debt she couldn’t repay, and Toby, being the warped individual that he was, would probably demand repayment for it in a way that was totally unacceptable to her.
More unacceptable than marrying Rufus?
Most definitely.
‘Having second thoughts?’ Rufus taunted at her lengthy silence.
And third, and fourth, ones!
She didn’t doubt for a moment that being married to Rufus, even short term, would be a living nightmare. She knew that he would take every opportunity he could to make her life a misery, and