A Bride for the Brooding Boss

by Bella Bucannon

  There were so many shades of green, so many different plants and flowers, all fresh and glistening from the showers. Ducks waddled over the lawns and birds swooped from tree to tree, their different calls mingling in the air. For Lauren it had become a magical spring day. Made doubly so by the sight of the shimmering white pavilion at the edge of a pond.

  ‘This is where we are eating?’ She drew them to a stop to drink in the image, and fumbled in her bag for her mobile to take a photo, though she knew she’d never forget.

  ‘Here, let me.’ Matt took it from her. ‘Turn around.’

  She faced him, the building behind her, the breeze teasing her hair and her heart twisting while she smiled on his command. Twice for her camera then, to her surprise, twice more for his.

  The interior was as pristine. White linen covered the tables and chairs, even extended to the serviettes. Silver cutlery, crystal glasses and a delicate floral centrepiece completed an impressive décor.

  They were seated by one of the open arches overlooking the waterfall and pond featuring a reed-covered island and a family of colourful ducks. Matt declined wine, opting to share the water she’d asked for. As the waiter left with their orders she gazed round full circle in awe.

  ‘It’s so incredible. I can’t believe I never came here in all the years I lived in Adelaide. I have a vague recollection of the zoo so that must have been when I was young.’

  ‘You never came to the city on weekends or in the holidays with friends?’ As if that made her unique but not in a good way. ‘How old were you when you moved?’

  ‘No and thirteen. My family life revolved around my brothers’ sporting events. And before you judge, it wasn’t so bad.’

  Why was she defending what she’d always decried? Unless she was beginning to understand her own personality’s part in it all? She sipped water from the delicate glass and smiled. If she had visited the gardens, it would have been in a plastic bottle on the benches outside.

  Matt stretched across the table, stroking her hand with his long fingers.

  ‘Believe me, Lauren, I never make judgements on anyone’s family. The reason you’re here is proof you can never tell what happens behind closed doors.’

  Nausea gripped his stomach as he recalled the moment she’d shown him evidence of his father’s duplicity. The secret deals and bank accounts, even the location of a large amount of cash. Preparation for what, a new life with another woman? A suspicion he’d keep to himself as long as he lived.

  He gazed into hazel eyes, and found warmth and understanding. Something tight around his heart shifted and softened unexpectedly.

  ‘How do you explain nearly five years of lies and deceit, Lauren? What the hell was he planning?’

  ‘Will he even remember?’

  ‘I have no idea how much is real or how much he’s been faking, and I’m praying I can keep the truth from my mother. She’s defended his behaviour all my life, and I can’t bear to disillusion her.’

  He found the simple act of caressing her small, delicate hand comforting. The kitchen could take all the time they wanted; he was in no hurry.

  ‘Does she have to know anything?’

  ‘If there are legal proceedings against him or I fail to revive the business, yes. In either case I won’t be able to protect her from the consequences. I’ve accepted my father is guilty and I’ll handle whatever happens as it occurs.’

  He noticed the waiter approaching with their meals, grudgingly removing his hand.

  ‘No more work talk. This was intended as a get-to-know-you meal before the dinner.’

  Get to know you? Lauren already responded to him in ways she hadn’t believed were real, much less that she’d be capable of. He could turn her inside out without any visible effort. He was going to haunt her for ever.

  She picked up her knife and fork, and made the mistake of looking into his contemplative midnight-blue eyes. It was as if he were seeking a path out of the quandary he’d been coerced into handling, and she might be his beacon.

  He ran his finger over his mouth—oh, heck, the mouth that had covered hers so gently, so masterfully. So long ago.

  ‘So, do you follow the footy at all?’

  About to begin eating, she almost bit her tongue. Had he remembered?

  ‘Only as a talking point with clients. Sport’s never interested me.’

  ‘What does?’ He bit into his bread roll, showing neat white teeth.

  ‘Why the sudden interest?’ She heard the words, hadn’t meant to say them out loud.

  ‘Indulge me. Saturday night I’ll be your escort. It would help if we knew something about each other.’

  But we are strangers and I have to keep it that way so I can relegate you to ‘memories never to be intentionally accessed’. Ever.

  He started on his meal, chewing slowly, and studying her as if committing her to his memory. Agreeing to go to this dinner was so one of her worst decisions ever. Though it could turn out to be one of the best.

  ‘Does it work both ways?’ Again she voiced her thoughts. She didn’t wanted to know, hoped he’d refuse.

  ‘I’m an avid Adelaide Crows supporter, and watched every match on the Internet while I was overseas. I played competitive squash—now I fit in games or workouts with Alan whenever I can, and run. My movie taste is for high adventure, fast action. And there’s not much I won’t eat.’

  Wow, more detail to flesh out her fantasies and spice up her dreams of an unsuitable, never ever for her, completely unattainable man. She instinctively squirmed in her seat and pushed into the back.

  ‘Your turn.’ He wasn’t going to let her off.

  ‘I rarely watch sport, enjoy any well-made science fiction, and Australian historical movies or series and walk whenever possible. I use a gym on a casual basis. I enjoy spicy food, not too hot, and eat limited takeaway when I’m home.

  ‘And you like your job?’

  ‘I love the challenge of a mystery and the adrenaline rush when I succeed. Unfortunately most jobs are mundane, the result of human error and complications when they try to undo without really knowing what they did.’

  She heard her own dissatisfaction. Maybe it was time for a change.

  ‘Is there anything else you’d like to do?’

  ‘I’m not sure. It’s a new concept.’ She frowned at him then smiled. ‘Talking to you might not be good for my career. Where did you live in London? I heard houses and units are super expensive.’

  ‘Correct. I got lucky. I own a one-bedroom suburban flat within walking distance of the Tube. Actually, the bank has a major share, but my name is on the deed. And I could buy a new three-bedroom house in Adelaide for less. It’s rented out to a colleague while I’m away, which looks like it’s going to be much longer than I anticipated.’

  He pushed his empty plate aside.

  ‘New topic: favourite ways to relax.’

  * * *

  Matt didn’t mention Saturday night arrangements during their meal or on the way back, and kept the taxi waiting while he came in to pick up the folder he needed for his meeting with the solicitor.

  He turned to go, made a move towards her and the air stilled between them. The flash in his eyes triggered a surge in her pulse. She waited, holding her breath. His eyes narrowed, his lips parted then his Adam’s apple bounced as he struggled for words. The sound he made was guttural, masculine. She felt its effect skittle down her spine.

  ‘Don’t go until I get back, okay?’

  She could only nod as his finger brushed her lips and he walked out through the door.

  * * *

  Joanne hadn’t been kidding about the backlog but by normal finishing time Lauren had made good progress. She tidied up, then went to the nearby shop and bought a magazine and a packet of chocolate biscuits.

 
; She was curled in a chair by his window, filling in a crossword when he appeared and dropped the folder on his desk.

  ‘Stay right there. Another drink?’ He indicated the mug by her side.

  ‘No, thank you.’ She closed the book and watched him. She’d expected dejection with the prospect of prosecution for Dalton Corporation, his father or both hanging over him. Couldn’t see it in his face or movement.

  He sat and stretched out his long legs, taking a deep swallow before putting his mug down.

  ‘That tastes good. Thanks for waiting for me.’

  His attitude puzzled her. Blasé as opposed to taut as a wound spring as he’d been most of the time she’d been here. As if he read her mind, he arched his back, linked his hands behind his head and smiled.

  Where had the dour, weary-eyed man from ten days ago gone? Only the dark shadows under his eyes and the deep lines around his mouth and eyes proved the strain he’d endured.

  ‘Not the same guy you first met, huh? Your finding that screen has taken away the uncertainty, the unknown factor hanging over every decision I made. Now I have true facts and figures to deal with. We’ll be audited and investigated but if we’re honest we’ll survive.’

  ‘So your meetings went well.’

  ‘I’ve told the truth, and produced all the records and Dad’s medical assessment. Now I can concentrate on the new project while the experts work it all out. My priorities are to keep the company going, even if I change its direction, and to protect my mother from any fallout from Dad’s actions.’

  He drained his coffee, and stood, pulling her to her feet. Close but not quite into his arms.

  ‘You’ve already exceeded expectations and completed your original assignment. Now I’m asking you to stay here a little longer in case I need you. Please, Lauren?’

  How could she refuse when his fingers clasped hers, his voice dropped low with emotion and the pleading in his eyes wrenched at her heart.

  The urge to step closer, reach out and trace his strong jaw line, to feel the slight rasp of his almost undetectable stubble, consumed her. Her pulse fluttered, her legs trembled, and swallowing had no effect on her dry throat.

  ‘As long as you think I can be useful.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  A buzzer sounded from the reception area, newly installed for visitors. ‘Anyone here?’

  ‘That’s for me.’ He led her to the door and called out, ‘Be right with you,’ before giving her a quirky smile.

  ‘No peace, as they say. You go home and I’ll see you in the morning.’

  * * *

  He didn’t. He called as she walked to work telling her he probably wouldn’t be in the office at all. How could such a short sentence turn her day cloudy?

  ‘I wanted to talk to you about tomorrow night. Pre-dinner drinks start at six-thirty so I’ll pick you up at your hotel around then. It’s only a short drive.’

  That meant thirty-four hours until she saw him again. She hid her disappointment with a cheerful voice.

  ‘I’ll be ready. Call me when you’re nearly there and I’ll come down to the lobby.’

  ‘I’m looking forward to it.’

  In a crazy way with mixed feelings, so was she.

  ‘I’ll see you then, Mr Dalton.’

  ‘The name’s Matt, remember?’

  Matt. Imprinted on her brain, hero of her dreams. Of course, she’d never forget.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  MATT WASN’T A teenager on his first date so why did his heart race, his chest feel tight? Why were his palms sweating? Escorting a colleague to a corporate dinner hardly qualified as a date anyway.

  Quit fooling yourself, Matt Dalton. She’s not a colleague. She’s a beautiful woman you are attracted to. And it bugs you that she’s so wary of men like you.

  He’d called her as the taxi was pulling into the hotel driveway, wanting to be there when she walked out of the lift. The look on her face as she’d agreed to stay on Thursday was imprinted in his brain.

  It had been a mixture of fear and hopeful expectancy. If it wasn’t complete delight when he brought her home tonight, he’d deem himself a failure. His aims were to see her smile, hear her laugh. And to develop his bond with the Fords.

  Cold and objective maybe, but he’d learned that love and happy-ever-afters were more advertising hype than reality. Tonight he’d forget business, relax and enjoy himself. Lauren would go home with happy memories rather than those of nights spent alone in a hotel room.

  The lift came down twice while he paced the foyer. She’d said five minutes, four had passed so...

  His jaw dropped, his heart pounded. He looked into big anxious hazel eyes and the resolution to keep the relationship casual and platonic shot into Netherland.

  She was exquisite, captivating. Every red-blooded man’s dream. From her gleaming newly styled, honey-brown hair framing her lovely face, to her red-painted toes peeping out of strappy gold shoes. Her sunshine-yellow dress, which fell loosely to her ankles from under her enticing breasts, shimmered as she walked towards him. A double gold chain around her neck enhanced her smooth peach skin. And she had to be wearing higher heels because she barely had to tilt her head to meet his gobsmacked gaze.

  He took both hands in his and held them out, felt her speeding pulse under his thumb, and had to clear his choked throat before he could speak.

  ‘Stunning. Lauren Taylor, you are enchanting.’

  Her eyes misted. Her glossed lips—oh, he so wanted to kiss them right now—parted.

  ‘I am?’ She was genuinely surprised by his compliment. Didn’t her room have mirrors?

  The lift beside them pinged and opened. As soon as the occupants left, he ushered her in, facing her towards the mirrored wall, and standing behind her.

  ‘Look at yourself, Lauren. You are gorgeous. I’ll be the envy of every male in the room.’

  His first aim was achieved as she smiled at their reflections. A soft glow appeared in her eyes and grew until they sparkled, and all apprehension disappeared. His arms ached to wrap around her, and if they didn’t leave this instant he most definitely would claim a kiss.

  * * *

  After they’d buckled in their driver handed him the corsage he’d left on the front seat.

  ‘I chose this one without knowing what colours you’d be wearing. It seemed...well, you.’

  ‘It’s beautiful, perfect.’

  He echoed her words in his head, not referring to the flower.

  When she reached out to touch the delicately shaded orchid with its deep purple centre, he caught her hand and slipped it onto her wrist. Resisting the whim to press his lips to her pulse, he compensated by linking their fingers and keeping hold. He gave her the same advice he’d given himself.

  ‘Relax and enjoy the evening. It’s one of the biggest events of the year, all profits benefitting children’s charities.’

  He felt her fingers twitch against his, saw the colour in her cheeks fade. But her eyes were clear and steady when they met his.

  ‘Big crowds are less daunting than smaller ones. They’re easier to hide in.’

  A puzzling remark that intrigued him. Why wouldn’t she want to be seen?

  ‘No hiding tonight. Not that you could looking the way you do. Duncan arranged our tickets, and the other two couples at our table are friends of theirs so you’ll be in good company. I’ll stay as close as I can and make sure you’re never alone.

  Which was going to be a pleasant task, not difficult at all.

  Matt being close might well be her biggest problem, Lauren thought, floating on air from his compliments. He wore formal wear with an innate ease. Had he been so elegant when he’d kissed her years ago? She could only remember those devastating startled blue eyes.

  As the taxi
joined the line-up waiting to discharge their passengers, she craned her neck to watch them heading for the entrance. These were the elite, the rich and influential, and the corporate climbers—a mingling horde of people eager to see and be seen by their peers. Unlike her, they’d be at ease with each other or skilled at hiding any nerves.

  ‘Lauren?’ She turned her head to find Matt regarding her with a pained expression.

  ‘I’ll need that hand to eat dinner.’

  With a gasp she realised how tightly she was gripping his fingers, and let go.

  ‘I’m so sorry. Does it hurt?’ Mortification stung her cheeks.

  He gave a low chuckle and wriggled his fingers. ‘My friends will say any damage can only improve my guitar playing.’

  The car inched forward, stopped and a uniformed man opened Matt’s door. She sidled across as he alighted and offered her the hand she’d squeezed. She felt his strength as she allowed him to help her, felt hot tingles race along her veins as he drew her closer for protection in the throng.

  * * *

  The foyer was a kaleidoscope of colours, bold and lurid, pastel and muted, interspersed with the stark black of tuxedos. The overhead lights glistened off the dazzling displays of precious gems adorning necks, wrists, and fingers, hanging from ears and even woven into elaborate hairdos.

  Being part of the excitement was worth the initial sick feeling in her stomach, the harsh dryness of her throat. Matt pressed her to his side in his efforts to manoeuvre them to the designated meeting point with the Fords, and the adrenaline rush was intoxicating.

  Even he seemed surprised by the number of people who greeted him and held them up. So many inquired if his parents were attending. Others asked when he’d arrived in Adelaide, how long he was staying, and when they could catch up.

  They declined drinks until they’d joined their hosts, Matt selecting a white wine and Lauren a soft drink. Duncan introduced them to a middle-aged couple then, when the men began to discuss today’s games, Clair drew the two women aside and grinned at Lauren.

  ‘And at these occasions they talk sport.’ She turned to the other woman. ‘Lauren’s a computer expert and I’m—’