A Bride for the Brooding Boss

by Bella Bucannon

  ‘A danger to any active program,’ the woman cut in playfully.

  They laughed and Lauren noticed Matt’s short nod of approval in her direction. She’d also felt the reluctance with which he’d released her hand. Or was she reading too much into his protective mode?

  The doors to the dining area opened and they were asked to locate their seats. As she began to follow Clair, Matt appeared beside her, drawing her close.

  ‘This is incredible,’ she whispered, admiring the ornate decorations on the uncountable number of tables.

  The dimmed lights gave everything a magical feel, coloured spotlights played across the room, randomly picking out guests for a second or two then moving on. Classical music was supplied by a string quartet on stage, and along the backdrop hung brightly coloured banners bearing the names of sponsors and the charities that would benefit.

  Matt guided her to her seat at a table near the front and sat alongside. Duncan and Clair were on her left. She swung her head, determined to memorise every detail, and shared a menu with Matt as bread rolls and wine were being served.

  ‘Main course is served alternately, chicken or steak. If you’d prefer what I’m given, we can swap. The other courses are set.’

  ‘Thank you. I’m not keen on steak unless it’s well done.’

  ‘Good evening everyone.’ A deep voice boomed through the sound system urging latecomers to take their seats so the caterers could begin serving entrees. The welcoming thank-you speech was short and amusing, and the quiet music during the meal allowed over-the-table conversation.

  Matt and Duncan made sure Lauren was included and she felt at ease enough to join in. Not often and not unless she was sure of the subject but it felt good. Except when Duncan asked if she had siblings. Giving a quick glance to check Matt wasn’t listening, she admitted to three brothers, found herself telling him they were all professionals, two footballers and one cricketer. He seemed impressed, wanted more detail. To her their jobs were no different from hers, his, or any other person’s.

  As the waiters cleared the dinner plates, people began to move around the room, stopping in small groups to talk or wander out into the foyer. Band gear was set up on the stage and the group began to play a slow ballad.

  There was a trickle of couples at first then more and more until the floor was crowded. No room for any more, she thought with relief.

  ‘Dance with me, Lauren.’ Matt’s eyes gleamed, his breath tickled her ear, and his hand on her bare shoulder evoked a quivering in her stomach that had nothing to do with nerves.

  ‘You promised no pressure.’

  ‘True. If you refuse I won’t push. But I’ll be disappointed, and regret not having even one dance with you.’

  Oh, so smooth. No wonder he’d won the Fords over and, according to Joanne, been very successful in England. She’d regret it too; the difference was she’d always remember.

  She stood, and accepted the hand he offered. ‘Do you always win?’

  ‘The important battles, yes.’ The victorious sparkle in midnight-blue eyes proved he believed this counted with those.

  He led her onto the dance floor, and slipped his arm around her waist, enclosing her hand in his over his heart. Her legs trembled and her head clamoured for her to cut and run. Her heart leant into him, taking her body along.

  Matt had planned his move. The packed floor gave him the excuse to hold her nearer, move slower. Her body aligned with his perfectly, she followed his steps with ease, and her perfume—or her—stirred feelings he’d been denying all week.

  Somehow in the last two days the anger he’d carried for weeks had begun to dissipate. Tonight the pain of betrayal had been replaced by an unfamiliar emotion. It took him a few minutes to recognise the alien feeling as contentment, and a little longer to realise that his thumb was caressing her fingers.

  The music stopped, and as other couples split to applaud the band they stayed together, his eyes on her face as she looked towards the stage. She was happier and more relaxed than he’d ever seen her. Suddenly however long she’d be here was too short.

  ‘Lauren.’

  Bright hazel eyes met his, her lips parted, and only the first few notes of a classic seventies heartbreaker stopped him from kissing her there and then. The couple behind nudged her and he automatically pressed her closer for protection. Her head nestled on his shoulder, his cheek brushed her hair. And he wanted the music to last for ever.

  It didn’t of course. The singer announced desserts and coffee were being served, and the band was taking a break. He escorted her back to the table, pleased she seemed as reluctant as he was.

  ‘Duncan’s gone walkabout,’ Clair said, moving along next to Lauren, beckoning her female companion to join them. ‘Are you planning to network too, Matt?’

  He ought to, it was the sensible thing to do, the best action for the company. Their desserts arrived, and he grinned and took his seat.

  ‘And miss double chocolate gateau with strawberries and cream. Maybe after.’

  ‘Have Duncan’s too, if you like. I’m watching his weight,’ Clair offered.

  ‘You want double delight, Lauren?’ he teased and was rewarded with a rosy blush.

  ‘I’m not sure I can handle what’s in front of me,’ she countered without breaking eye contact and his heart leapt into his mouth. Heat flared in the pit of his stomach, and his fingers itched to reach for her and...

  ‘Coffee for anyone?’ A waiter held up cups and saucers on the other side of the table.

  Yeah, black and strong for me to drown in. And is that a tiny smirk on her face?

  If they were alone he’d be kissing it off in an instant.

  ‘I’ll take one, thanks.’ Duncan loomed up behind Matt and sat down. ‘After that, and the dessert I’m going to be scalded for eating all weekend, I want you to meet a trusted friend of mine, Matt. If we decide to proceed with the bigger project an extra investor might be welcome.’

  Matt glanced at Lauren.

  ‘You go. I’ll be fine.’

  She was. Too much so. Catching up with business acquaintances and meeting new contacts should have been a pleasure but his mind was on Lauren, and how long he’d been away. He’d left her talking to Clair and her friend. When he returned she was in deep conversation with a blond-headed man who, in his opinion, was leaning too close.

  His gut hardened, his jaw clenched and he strode over to where the two of them sat alone.

  ‘Sorry I’ve been so long, Lauren.’ Not much regret in his tone.

  They turned, and the man rose to his feet, extending his hand.

  ‘Matt Dalton, isn’t it? I’m sure I played high-school footy against you a few times. I’m John Collins, a friend of Lauren’s brother. Haven’t seen her for five or six years so this was a pleasant surprise.’

  Matt’s irritation abated and he accepted the greeting.

  ‘Your face is familiar though I can’t remember the name. Too many over the years.’

  ‘Yeah, I know.’ John glanced at his watch. ‘I’d better go find my wife and say our goodbyes. My mother-in-law’s babysitting. Great catching up with you both.’

  ‘Where is everyone?’ Matt asked as soon as he’d gone, shaking off his discomfort. An old friend of the brother’s. Married and bending close, as he was now, because of the constant hum of voices combined with the now louder and upbeat music.

  ‘Out there having fun.’ Lauren laughed and pointed at the dance floor.

  It was hard to tell who was partnering who as arms were waving, bodies writhing and legs kicking, stomping and twisting. Clair was easily spotted in her bright red dress, grinning and waving as she recognised friends. Duncan, now coatless, followed no rhythm but his enjoyment was clear.

  ‘Let’s join them.’

  She demurred.

&nbs
p; ‘Look at them, Lauren. No rules. No cares.’ He seized her wrists, lifting her to her feet. ‘Come on.’

  She’d shrunk. He looked down at her stockinged feet. Felt the grin spread across his face.

  She grinned back. ‘My new shoes started to pinch. Besides, I can hardly dance like that in those heels.’

  ‘Not without spiking someone, probably me. Hang on while I ditch my coat.’

  This was the best and the worst idea he’d had all night. The way Lauren’s body synchronised with the rhythm created havoc in his. Her dress outlined shimmering hips as she swayed. Her lustrous hair brushed her shoulders as she swung her head and her skin glowed under the spotlights. Even watching her delicate energetic feet with their red tips gave him a warm glow.

  Completely in the moment she’d let go of whatever cares she had, given herself to the magic of the music, and was in a world of her own. A world he wanted to be part of for as long as possible. He tasted bile in his mouth at the thought of her leaving, swallowed it down. Emotion-inspired happy-ever-afters were a myth.

  ‘Last dance, ladies and gentlemen. Slow or fast?’

  Couples were already coming together, calling out ‘slow’ and drowning the requests for fast. A few left the floor. Lauren’s eyes shone as he stepped closer. She didn’t resist at his pressing her head to his shoulder. She was smaller without her heels, making him feel more macho, more protective. He caressed her back, drawing her tightly against him, and swor0e00 he heard a contented sigh.

  * * *

  Lauren sighed again as the taxi eased into traffic. This was an enchanted evening. A night to cherish always, for so many reasons. The man responsible for those unforgettable memories shifted across the seat, put his arm around her, and nestled her into his side.

  ‘Glad you came, Lauren?’

  His voice was low, gruff, his breath tickled her ear. She turned, put her hand on his chest, and wished she could snuggle into him and fall asleep. Any dreams she had tonight would surely be pleasurable.

  ‘Mmm, it was wonderful. I didn’t want it to end.’

  ‘It hasn’t yet.’

  Her fingers curled, her heart chilled and she stopped breathing. He didn’t think, wouldn’t expect... No. That wasn’t the man she...could she possibly learn the true man within less than two weeks, four days of which were spent apart?

  ‘We have the drive home and I’ll ask the cab to wait while I escort you to your room.’

  ‘There’s no need.’ Her words came out in a rush of air.

  ‘My pleasure. Would you like to hear the compliments Duncan paid you?’

  ‘He and Clair are nice, so easy to talk to though she made a few enigmatic remarks during the evening, and asked twice how long I’d be here. Said she’d like to meet for lunch before I go. Oh.’

  She gasped as he suddenly squeezed her as if annoyed at her remark.

  ‘Don’t think about leaving yet. Don’t think about anything but tonight. Did I mention you were the most beautiful woman in the room?’

  She smiled up at him. He was smooth and charming, handsome as hell and his midnight-blue eyes glowed with an intensity she’d never seen. Ever. From anyone.

  ‘Once or a dozen times. Thank you for everything.’

  He tapped the folder under her clutch bag on the seat. ‘And you have the photos.’

  ‘They’re mine?’

  ‘All yours.’

  So he didn’t want any reminders. She’d behaved as he’d asked, been a helpful social partner, and he was simply grateful. But in the end she was just the skilled technician hired to fix his system. A chill settled over her. The gloss faded. The evening was tainted.

  A few moments ago she’d been elated, not wanting the evening to end. With two simple words, he’d burst her blissful bubble. She felt tired, numb... She wished she were alone, yet contrarily didn’t want to leave the warm haven of his arms.

  CHAPTER NINE

  HE PUT DISTANCE between them in the lift as if sensing her withdrawal. She kept her eyes downcast, and hung onto the photos like a lifeline. They and the exotic orchid on her wrist were mementoes she’d treasure for ever.

  She should be grateful. She would be, when common sense rid her of the dull ache. Not now. Maybe once they’d shared polite platitudes, and she was alone.

  Her key card. She’d better have it out ready and limit any awkward time. The doors opened and he guided her towards her room, turned her to face him, gripping her elbows, his features composed, his eyes dark as ebony.

  They held her captive, mesmerised her. Seconds. Minutes. She was drifting, vaguely aware of him freeing her arms.

  ‘Sleep peacefully, Lauren.’ Rough as if forced over jagged stones.

  Then, like déjà vu, his lips were on hers, moving smoothly yet more masterful, more mature. Like ten years ago their only physical contact. And like ten years ago she instinctively responded, wanting his kiss to last for ever.

  Breaking away, eyes now narrowed and puzzled, he stepped back, and gave a slow short shake of his head.

  ‘Goodnight, Lauren.’ He sounded bewildered before walking away.

  Had he remembered? Realised who she was? Her hand shook as she blindly tried to swipe her card without taking her eyes off his rigid departing back. She froze as he turned, strode back and yanked her into his arms, taking her mouth with a fierce male grunt. Causing her to drop everything and cling to him.

  This wasn’t the exploratory tenderness of the teenage boy, or the polite goodnight of a moment ago. This was raw, masculine need, a hunger that swept her up and demolished any inhibitions. He caressed her back in wide strokes, urging her closer, searing her skin wherever they touched.

  A yearning to arch into his warmth overwhelmed her. She couldn’t breathe, didn’t care. Her legs shook, her body quivered, fire flared in her core. And her lips parted willingly as he deepened the kiss.

  She tasted wine and rich coffee, a hint of chocolate and—

  His head flung back, his chest heaved. His stunned eyes raked her face, and his lips parted without sound. He backed away, arms wide. He hit the wall opposite and swallowed, dark eyes roaming her face as if he’d never seen it before.

  With his gaze locked with hers, he came slowly forward and lightly traced shaking fingers down her cheek, settling under her chin.

  ‘Wow.’ Incredulous. Deep and husky. He seemed to struggle for breath. ‘I...I’ll see you Monday.’

  By the time she’d blinked he’d gone, heading for the stairs.

  Lauren fought for composure, unable to move. What had she done to provoke such a reaction? Where had her response come from?

  The lift’s ping brought her back to the present. She scooped up her belongings and a moment later was secure behind her closed door. Dumping the stuff on the desk, she flung herself onto the bed, reliving every second since they’d exited the lift.

  She studied the photo of the two of them, searching for something to explain his behaviour and sudden flight. There was no clue in his open expression or his smile. Nothing to indicate he had anything but enjoying the function on his mind.

  So it had to be her. What deficiency did she have in her personality that discouraged more familiar contact? Did she give out negative vibes? She had close friends, some from back at school and uni in Melbourne.

  Their common interests had been the original base but their friendships now went much deeper. She knew she could always depend on their support in any situation. It was her family who seemed to find excuses not to be with her. Or was it she who put up barriers, subliminally deterring closer intimacy for fear of being rejected?

  She set the photo against the lamp on the bedside table, placed her corsage in front of it, and prepared for bed. They were clearly visible in the light from the street lamps. She fell asleep with her fingers on her lips. />
  * * *

  Matt fisted one hand into the palm of the other as the taxi drove him home. He could smell her perfume on his shoulder, see her shocked expression when he’d pulled away and left. He still savoured the taste of her on his lips.

  He’d meant that first kiss to be gentle, an affectionate ending to a memorable night. Her initial response hadn’t surprised him. Its effect on him had been astonishing. His libido had gone into overdrive and that damn niggle had drummed in his head. Breaking free had been instinctive.

  But he hadn’t been able to walk away. The invitation he’d seen in her hazel eyes had driven him back and he’d let his pent-up desire run free. He’d moulded her body to his, caressing her back, and exploring the curves he’d delighted in all evening. He’d invaded her mouth, savouring her sweetness, craving more.

  Her soft moan had slammed him back to reality. To the shame of his actions. He’d never lost control before. Getting the hell out of there had seemed the only option; now it branded him a coward.

  Going back to apologise while he still ached for more intimate contact would exacerbate the pain he’d caused. Phoning would be even more cowardly. He hadn’t felt so much like a louse since...

  Since the night he kissed a girl hiding in the dark on a balcony. The niggling cleared like a light-bulb moment in his head. An irresistible allure. A barely heard sigh. Soft lips under his.

  The kiss he’d never forgotten, had relived so often in his dreams, and that had been so entrenched in his memory that his body had known her the instant their lips had met tonight. He’d never had a face to picture, only a curled mass of dark hair, and a recollection of a slender body in a blue dress. And throughout the ten years since, no lips had ever felt as soft or tasted as sweet.

  He’d searched the ballroom for her, and spent the rest of the evening repeatedly scanning the crowd without success. Deep inside he’d never given up hope of finding her.

  Now he understood the guarded look and apprehension the day he’d interviewed her. She’d recognised him, must have remembered their meeting as well.