One Passionate Night: His Bride for One Night / One Night at Parenga / His One-Night Mistress. Robyn Donald
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Her father noisily clearing his throat had Charlotte finally surfacing from her liquid state to the real world. Once she stepped back out of Daniel’s arms, some semblance of common sense returned. But the smouldering inner heat he’d generated remained, teasing her with the thought that maybe this man could do for her what no man ever had before…
Charlotte tried not to blush at this thought, whilst Daniel looked highly satisfied with the situation. His mission had been accomplished.
Charlotte knew he wasn’t doing this for her parents’ happiness. Or for hers. He was doing it to put her in his debt, and in his bed.
Not that he had to go to such amazing lengths. She would have gone to bed with him, anyway.
Twenty-four hours ago, Charlotte would have scorned anyone who said she would ever be a pushover. The fact she was prepared to say yes to Daniel Bannister within hours of meeting him was as shocking to her as it was intriguing.
Why him?
Was it his movie-star looks? His charm? His intelligence? Or was it the power of his desire that was seducing and compelling her? Men had desired her before but never quite like this. This was something else.
Her cheeks continued to burn as her eyes met his, her heart-rate having not yet calmed. If she felt like this after a kiss, then how would she feel once she was in bed with him, their bodies totally naked, his flesh inside hers?
A quiver rippled down her spine at the thought, her heart flipping right over when he slid an intimate arm around her waist and pulled her back against him.
Daniel resumed the conversation. ‘Charlotte was confessing to me that you’d all organised a bigger wedding for us than we’d originally planned.’
‘Yes, well, I couldn’t give my youngest daughter a lesser wedding than my other daughters, could I?’ her father pronounced proudly, reminding Charlotte why she’d been sick with worry over disappointing her darling dad. She would be forever grateful to Daniel that she didn’t have to now, regardless of his ulterior motives.
Of course, it was still going to be awkward at a later date, explaining why her loving husband had to go back to the States, then extremely disappointing for her to confess that their marriage hadn’t worked out.
But she would cross that bridge when she came to it.
For now, her mum and dad were smiling. That was all that mattered.
‘Do you think we might get along to the restaurant, daughter?’ her dad said. ‘Haven’t had a bite since breakfast.’
‘I’m hungry too,’ Daniel said with a wicked glance at Charlotte.
The man was a devil, no doubt about it. But it was impossible not to like him, as well as want him. He must have cut a right swathe through the ladies in LA these past few years, Charlotte reckoned. That combination of magnetism, machismo and manners was lethally attractive.
‘I hope we’re not going to one of those places where they take hours to serve you,’ her father said with a frown.
‘Amen to that,’ Daniel agreed. ‘When I’m hungry, I have to be fed quickly.’
Charlotte cocked an eyebrow, just to show him she was well aware what he was up to with his double entendres. Then she shot him a sickeningly sarcastic smile. ‘I had a feeling you’d say that. Don’t worry, Dad, the bistro is just a short walk away. You boys could have a beer while we’re waiting for our meal. And, Mum, you could have a sherry. Or some white wine, if you’d prefer.’
‘A sherry would be lovely,’ her mother said, the warm approval on her face giving Charlotte a real buzz.
Charlotte rarely received her mother’s approval, unlike her two older sisters, who hadn’t put a foot wrong in their lives. They’d both done well at school. Both had married their childhood sweethearts, sons of local farmers. Both had produced children.
Charlotte, by contrast, hadn’t finished school, had never learned to cook, couldn’t take up a hem, regularly forgot important dates and, till recently, was yet to find a husband.
As a child, she’d often been described as difficult. And a dreamer.
‘Her head is always in the clouds,’ she had heard her mother say to Aunt Gladys one day when she was about thirteen. ‘I don’t know what’s going to become of her.’
What became of her was she bolted for the city when she was a couple of months shy of her sixteenth birthday, having secretly applied for and secured a hairdressing apprenticeship advertised in the Sydney Morning Herald. Her distraught parents weren’t able to force her to return home, or to finish her school certificate, because she was able to support herself. In the end, they stopped trying to convince Charlotte she was too young to live away from home in the big city.
Actually, hairdressing was just a means to an end. Her heart’s desire was to see what the world had to offer outside of farm life and country boys. Sydney was an eye-opener but soon it too was limiting. So when Charlotte finished her apprenticeship, she began a series of jobs on ships that cruised all over the world.
By the time she was twenty-five, she’d been everywhere an ocean liner could take her. By then, she’d grown a bit bored with ship life and decided to try working in some of the world’s luxury resorts.
Over the next few years, Charlotte worked mostly in Asia, but also in the South Pacific, on various tropical islands. She then did a brief stint in a top hotel in London, but had found the climate not to her liking. She also found herself suffering, surprisingly, from homesickness, something which astounded her.
So, shortly before her thirtieth birthday, Charlotte returned to Australia, where she spent a few wonderfully restful weeks with her folks on the farm before realising, rather reluctantly this time, that country life was still not for her. What she was craving, she discovered, was a more settled existence. She wanted to put down roots. Wanted a boyfriend who lasted longer than a few months. She wanted marriage, and children. Possibly even a house with a garden.
Charlotte was blown away by this last bit. Miss Wanderlust herself wanting what most Australian girls wanted. Amazing!
Not one to ever shirk from a goal, Charlotte set about achieving what she wanted with a passion. She returned to Sydney, got herself a job and a flat, then set about doing what girls of her age did when they were on the lookout for Mr Right. She made friends with all the single girls she worked with—networking was crucial. She went to all the right bars with them on a Friday night. She smiled at every available-looking guy. And—most important of all—she joined a gym.
Which was where she met Dwayne, one of their personal trainers. Dwayne made it obvious right from the start that he fancied her. Within two weeks they were dating. Within four he coerced her into bed with words of undying love. Within six they were living together.
But that was where their relationship stagnated for the next two years. Dwayne was not ready, he said, for marriage and kiddies just yet. He was only twenty-eight. But he hinted a proposal was definitely on the cards once he reached thirty. So Charlotte clung on, despite becoming aware that they rarely talked any more, their sex life had dwindled to once a week, and Dwayne was working late more nights than ever.
She should not have been shocked by his dumping her for another girl. What shocked her was the speed with which he married his new, already pregnant girlfriend.
Charlotte was left to wonder what the gym bunny had that she didn’t have. She couldn’t help thinking that the answer wasn’t the other girl’s blonde hair, but her sexual know-how.
‘Charlotte. Is this the place you were talking about?’
Her mother’s voice cut through Charlotte’s reverie, shocking her back to the present. Blinking a bit blankly for a second or two, she discovered they were standing outside the entrance to the bistro. She must have walked there on automatic pilot whilst she daydreamed.
‘Yes,