Untamed Billionaires: Marriage: For Business or Pleasure? / Getting Red-Hot with the Rogue / One Night with the Rebel Billionaire. Элли Блейк
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to see if her desire matched his, he relented.
The mention of her promotion did it. She was doing this for her career, as he was, with no place for emotions to cloud the issue.
Scanning the extensive list she’d made, he pointed to the last few asterisks.
‘The licence, the legalities, all taken care of.’
When she quirked an eyebrow, he shrugged. ‘Things get done when you have money.’
A shadow passed over her face and he silently cursed his choice of words. If anyone knew the cause and effect of money, she did. Her father threw enough of the green stuff around to buy whatever and whoever he wanted.
He should know.
‘So the venue’s all taken care of?’
For the first time since she’d arrived tonight, his confidence wavered.
‘I thought the hotel garden would be a good spot? Beneath that poinciana tree near the pool?’
It was a perfect spot for a wedding, or so he’d been told by many guests: the towering umbrella-shaped tree laden with bright red flowers, Noosa beach in the background, clear blue ocean as far as the eye could see.
Britt had made him all too aware this marriage was a business merger, nothing more, yet he remembered how sentimental she’d get over the slightest thing and, while she appeared aloof with the planning, he’d bet his last dollar she’d want something a tad special.
‘That’s fine.’
Her pen picked up tempo as she focused on the list, obviously eager to get this over and done with so she could escape. Accepting this marriage was business was one thing, having to pretend to like it another.
Why did that rankle so much? It wasn’t as if this were remotely romantic yet somehow, ever since she’d returned—and returned his kisses—he’d been having strange pains in his chest, the type of pain he used to have when she was around all those years ago.
She intrigued him, infuriated him, inflamed him and, though he tried to dismiss this marriage as a means to a goal, deep down he knew better.
He’d always wanted a family, the type of family he’d never had, and the only woman he’d ever let get close was sitting less than a foot away with fiddling fingers and a wary gleam in her blue eyes.
‘Anything else?’
‘What about a notice in the newspaper for an authentic touch?’
‘That’s it.’ She jotted it down. ‘I’d call you a genius but it’d just go to your head.’
‘Try me.’
He leaned towards her with the sole intention of brushing a stray tendril of hair from her forehead. He never got the chance as their gazes locked for a heated moment before she leaped off the couch.
‘Right, we’re all done here. Thanks for dinner, it was great.’
She shoved the notebook into her bag, slung it over her shoulder. ‘I’m pretty tired, so I’ll head off now. Big day Friday.’
With an overly bright smile, she practically ran around the room. ‘I’ll get a copy of this list to you tomorrow. We don’t have much time to get everything organised, so the sooner we get it done, the better. I’ll—’
‘Red?’
‘Yeah?’
She paused mid-flight and took a deep breath, the simple action drawing his attention to her breasts and the way they filled out her ribbed top.
‘For a city girl, you’re sure behaving like a country virgin.’
He expected a host of retorts, or at least one decent smart-ass remark.
Instead, she glared at him, flushed a deep crimson and bolted out of the door.
Brittany wriggled her toes in her favourite Garfield slippers, pulled her fluffy tangerine robe tighter and cradled a hot chocolate while scanning her emails.
Not that she needed the extra calories after the mountain of food she’d consumed at Nick’s, but chocolate didn’t count, especially of the liquid variety. Besides, the way she was feeling right now, she needed comfort food, and this was it.
Nick had been right, damn him.
She had behaved like a country virgin, the exact way she used to act around him ten years earlier, jumping like a cane toad whenever he glanced her way; which had been often, though that hadn’t been the hard part.
The hard part had come when he’d looked at her as if he wanted to gobble her up and come back for more. Several times.
As for that almost-kiss…yikes! She’d deflected it with some pathetic line about needing to concentrate, but he hadn’t been fooled. She’d seen it by the knowing glint in his toffee eyes, by the smirk that had played around his kissable lips. And they were definitely kissable.
She’d wanted that kiss so badly she’d almost tasted it yet had done the smart thing and fobbed him off.
Smart for whom?
For both of them. She wasn’t interested in making this marriage real. She had a successful career waiting for her in London, a fabulous promotion, good friends, a great apartment. Everything a girl could want.
But what if she wanted more?
If she did, Nick Mancini sure wasn’t the guy to give it to her. His life was poles apart from hers.
His business was here, hers was in London.
His heritage was here, she’d always craved to escape family here.
He didn’t want a real marriage, a small part of her did.
Huh?
Where had that last bit come from?
Sighing, she took a comforting sip of the creamy hot chocolate, savouring the mini marshmallows melting on her tongue.
Unfortunately, as fabulous as her life in London was, there was one thing lacking and that was a real, steady relationship. Not some casual fling, not some short-term dating and not some modern equivalent of ‘being involved’—meeting once a week for a regular meal and sex. She’d tried these options and found them infinitely depressing.
No man had come close to matching what she’d felt for Nick, had once had with Nick.
And therein lay her problem.
‘Just great,’ she muttered, hitting the delete key on several joke emails and wishing she could erase her feelings for Nick as easily.
She’d been back a few days and had already reverted to her old ways: thinking about him constantly, wondering what he thought of her, hoping he felt half of what she did.
Pathetic.
The last email in her inbox effectively distracted her from the Nick problem. Her boss had given her leeway to complete this job, so why send her an email with ‘Tight Timeline’ in the subject header?
Clicking on the email, she quickly scanned the contents.
FROM: [email protected]
SUBJECT: Tight Timeline
Hi Brittany,
How’s my number one marketing guru enjoying her trip Down Under? Working hard, I hope.
I know we left your timeline fairly open for this pitch, but there’s a change in plans.
Looks like Sell is expanding the NY office sooner than we thought and they want me to head it up ASAP, which means my job here needs to be filled within three months.
To be fair to all prospective candidates, we’d need your pitch presented