by Sandy Curtis
THE MARRIAGE MERGER
by
SANDY CURTIS
© Sandy Curtis 2015
AMAZON EDITION
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Published by Ormiston Press
Cover design by Two Decade Designs
CHAPTER ONE
SEXY.
Undeniably sexy.
Even her bone-numbing fatigue couldn't stop the tingles of awareness racing up her spine as Jenna gazed at the man framed in the doorway. A white polo shirt stretched across perfectly sculptured chest muscles that begged Jenna’s hands to caress them so badly her palms actually started to itch. Tanned, muscular arms lightly covered with dark hairs added to the impression of strength and power.
Jenna Martin knew a great body when she saw one. In her line of work... Her gaze flicked to his face. And gorgeous. Not handsome in movie star fashion - no soft angles and pretty boy looks; the black hair and eyebrows over stormy grey eyes and long straight nose were undoubtedly attractive but the angles of his face were lean and hard. But, she decided, the generous lips added just the right amount of sensuality.
In the two seconds it had taken Jenna to register that Jeff’s taste in flatmates had definitely improved, the scowl that had creased his forehead as he opened the door had deepened.
“Yes?”
Jenna raised an eyebrow. So much for the big welcome home! Still, if he was a friend of Jeff’s she’d try to be civil, which wasn’t easy when she hadn’t slept in a bed for almost two days and anything vaguely horizontal was almost irresistible.
She smiled. “Is Jeff Martin home?”
She wasn’t prepared for the look of disgust he threw her.
“Jeff doesn’t live here any more. Now if you’ll excuse me...”
The door closed.
If her suitcases had been more solid Jenna would have collapsed onto them. The flight from London to Brisbane should have only taken twenty-three hours but a bomb scare at the Singapore stopover had added another six hours to the journey. Then she had spent three fruitless hours at Brisbane airport waiting for Jeff to show up. Her calls to his mobile only got his messagebank. She wouldn’t put it past him to have forgotten she was arriving, so she’d caught a bus to the Sunshine Coast and a taxi to his Maroochydore apartment building, thinking she would surprise him.
Well, it certainly wasn’t Jeff who’d been surprised, she thought as she pressed the buzzer again. The frowning male opened the door with an even deeper scowl marring his features.
“Look, I told you, Jeff doesn’t live here any more. And I don’t have the time to cater to the hysterics of another one of his women.”
“His ... women?” Jenna spluttered in surprise. She realised he was about to close the door again and quickly stepped into the doorway and glared up at him. At five feet nine inches she could glare most men straight in the eye, but even with her two inch heels this man towered over her.
Although the black eyebrows hung thunderclouds over his grey eyes Jenna couldn’t help noticing how attractive those eyes were. Gunmetal grey, with flecks of blue that seemed to intensify as he gazed at her.
“You’re the fourth one to turn up on the doorstep this week.” It was evidently an occurrence that he disliked dealing with judging by the look he flung at her. “If Jeff hasn’t let you know he was leaving then it should be obvious that ...”
“Hold it!” She held up her hand. “Let’s get one thing straight. I’m not one of Jeff’s ... women. I’m his sister. And I would appreciate ...”
“His sister!”
He ran assessing eyes over the tailored navy slacks hugging her long legs and the long-sleeved white silk blouse that moulded gently around her full breasts. His gaze lingered there just long enough to bring a flush to her cheeks before it travelled up her pale neck to the crown of curly dark auburn hair and back to her eyes.
“Sea-green,” he murmured, voice so soft it could have been a caress. His look of surprise was quickly replaced by suspicion. “You can’t be Jeff’s sister. She’s gawky, skinny ...” his voice trailed away as his eyes returned to her figure and she read the thought that said there was no way her womanly curves could ever be called skinny.
She groaned. “Don’t tell me Jeff still carries that dreadful photo in his wallet.”
If she had blushed before it was nothing to the deep colour that suffused her face now. She had been sixteen when Jeff had taken that awful photo of her. She’d been a late developer and the camera’s truthful eye had captured her thinness, the lanky limbs not yet filled out, her hair a long unruly mop of flame that hadn’t yet darkened to the more attractive auburn.
A hint of amusement lightened his expression. “And your name is Jinx.”
It was too much. She would kill Jeff when she caught up with him. Rip his secret-spilling tongue out of his head and strangle him with it. Bad enough he had shown that dreadful photo to this attractive man but he had obviously discussed her childhood exploits as well. “My name is Jenna. Jinx is a nickname Jeff gave me a long time ago. I wasn’t aware he still used it.”
To her chagrin his amusement seemed to increase and he stepped back into the entry. “Obviously you’re not aware Jeff no longer lives here. You’d better come in and I’ll explain.”
She glanced back to her two suitcases and cabin bag. He followed her gaze, frowned, then walked out and picked them up as though they were shopping bags instead of the heavy luggage she knew them to be.
She walked into a huge lounge room. Bisque-coloured floor tiles complemented deep cream vertical blinds and drapes and pale walls. She admired the elegant style of the mahogany wall units, oval coffee table and curved, russet leather lounge. Tasteful, but expensive, and she wondered how Jeff could have afforded the rent. Through the ceiling to floor windows on the opposite side of the room she could see the sun’s dying rays streak pink and gold across a fading blue sky.
He motioned for her to sit down. She sank into the comfortable lounge with a sigh, her eyes heavy, her body telling her that its rhythms were still trying to adjust to the different time zone. She had slept on the plane, but not well, and now her body was demanding retribution.
She watched his jeans tighten over muscular thighs as he sat down near her. Not too close, thank heavens. She wasn’t so tired that she didn’t respond to the prickles of awareness his sexual magnetism created in her. She’d have to be half dead not to react to the warm male scent of him and the promise of satisfaction in his perfectly contoured body. But who was he?
“I’m Braden Fleetwood.”
All that sex appeal and mind-reading too, Jenna thought dryly.
“Jeff works for me.”
Oh, no, not THE Braden Fleetwood. Jenna’s brain shifted a few cogs into reverse and tried to remember all Jeff had mentioned in his long but rare phone calls and brief letters. Braden Fleetwood, billionaire businessman, owner of three major companies and several small subsidiaries. Brilliant mind, dynamic personality, great boss if you worked well but scathing if your mistakes were caused through your own stupidity.
“I sent Jeff up here three months ago on business. This company penthouse was available so I authorised him to stay here.” He seemed to hesitate. “Last week I had need to stay here myself and urgent work arose in Sydney so I sent Jeff down to handle it. He'll be gone at least t
wo months, and then he'll be returning to Brisbane.”
Sydney. Jeff was in Sydney. Once again visions of the macabre torture she would inflict on his person when she got hold of him danced before her eyes.
“Why didn’t he tell me?” she asked, more to herself than Braden Fleetwood.
“Perhaps you’d better explain how you turned up here. I thought Jeff had mentioned you were overseas.”
“I have been for the last two years. I’d made arrangements to fly home to Sydney, stopping off in Brisbane for a couple of hours so I could catch up with Jeff. The morning of my departure Mum phoned to tell me she and Dad were flying to Tasmania. Her uncle had died and they were going to the funeral.”
She rubbed a weary hand across her forehead. “Mum must have thought I already knew Jeff was back in Sydney. Anyway, I couldn’t see the point in going home if no-one was going to be there so I tried to call Jeff to tell him I’d stop over with him for a week instead of a couple of hours. I left a message on his mobile and sent him an email and a fax to make sure. I can’t understand why he didn’t let me know he wasn’t going to be at Brisbane airport to meet me. We made the arrangements three weeks ago.”
“There’s a phone in the kitchen. Would you like to call him? He’s staying at your parents’ house.” The amusement was back in the grey eyes and Jenna had the distinct feeling that he had already labelled her as incompetent, an opinion probably germinated through Jeff’s tales of her awkward adolescence.
He escorted her to a phone situated in an alcove between the dining room and the kitchen. An expansive but functional kitchen, with pale timber cupboards and cream flecked marble bench-tops and the same bisque-coloured floor tiles that flowed through from the lounge room.
Five minutes later she returned to the lounge room.
“Well?” A dark eyebrow raised.
“It looks like a comedy of errors. Jeff thought Mum had told me he was in Sydney. He never received my messages saying I’d stay here with him for a week, so he’s been sitting out at Mascot Airport all day waiting for me to arrive. He said he’d called me, but,” she pulled her mobile phone from her pants pocket, “my battery died just before my flight landed.”
A frown creased Braden’s forehead. “Did you send the fax to the Brisbane office or the Sunshine Coast office?”
“Brisbane - it was the only number I had. I thought they’d send it on to him. I’d only received one letter from him in the last two months and it had this address on the envelope - no apartment number though.”
“Then how did you know to come to the penthouse? And how did you get into the building?” The grey eyes narrowed suspiciously.
Jenna could sense the annoyance that still simmered in him. Her lips tightened. She felt too tired to be bothered answering such trivial questions but the fact that he was Jeff’s boss stopped the impatient reply that tipped her tongue.
“When I was reading the apartment list one of the other tenants arrived back from a business trip. He told me Jeff was staying in the penthouse, and let me in so I could surprise him.”
Her limbs were starting to feel as though they had lead weights tied to them and the almost forty-eight hours enforced sitting had caused aches in her back that needed a long hot shower to ease. “Would you mind calling me a taxi and recommending a motel where I could stay the night? I’ll catch a flight to Sydney tomorrow.”
Before he could reply a door closed in the hallway leading off the loungeroom and a plump, grey haired woman walked into the room. She dropped a suitcase at her feet.
“My son-in-law should be here soon, Mr Fleetwood,” she said. “I’m sorry to leave you in the lurch like this. I hope you can get another housekeeper without too much bother.”
Braden half-raised his hand as though in supplication. “You know I can’t leave Caitlin with just anybody, Mrs Jenkins...”
A loud buzzing interrupted him. He crossed to an intercom system on the wall, spoke briefly and turned to Mrs Jenkins.
“Your son-in-law is waiting downstairs.” He picked up the suitcase. “I’ll take this down for you.” Without another word to either woman he walked out the door. Mrs Jenkins looked at Jenna as though seeing her for the first time, gave a half-apologetic smile and followed.
Jenna couldn’t believe it. Her 'comedy of errors' was swiftly turning into a fiasco. Braden Fleetwood had apparently forgotten all about her. She dropped onto the lounge, her eyes closing. As soon as he returned she would ...
“Miss Martin. Jinx.” A hand was shaking her shoulder. She tried to open her eyes but they seemed to be glued shut. And her brain wouldn’t function, it was coated in treacle and cotton wool and weighed a ton like her body.
From a long distance she could hear a deep male voice telling her to wake up. With a great effort she forced her eyes open. Braden Fleetwood was bending over her, urging her to her feet. The frown was back on his face and she felt a niggle of annoyance that it was again directed at her. She pushed groggily upwards, swayed, and would have fallen but a strong arm wrapped around her and a warm hand rested against her ribs, just below her breast.
The jolt that shot through her body at the intimate contact jerked her awake. She pulled away.
"I'm sorry ... it's been a long trip ... I don't normally fall asleep like this ..." She realised she was babbling. "If you could call me a taxi?"
Strong white teeth bit into his bottom lip as though trying to stop his thoughts from vocalising. In unconscious reaction, Jenna's tongue tipped her teeth and her mouth half moved in anticipation of how those lips would feel on hers.
An emotion Jenna couldn't decipher flared in his eyes, the blue flecks magnified, and his voice came out almost as a growl. "There's a spare bedroom here. You're too tired to go looking for a motel. Tomorrow I'll arrange for a lift back to Brisbane for you."
Jenna started to protest, but he picked up her suitcases and walked up the hallway. She debated arguing with him but antagonizing Jeff's boss didn't seem like a good idea, and, after all, it was only for one night.
"Jeff would never forgive me if I didn't look after his kid sister." He remarked dryly as he opened a door and switched on the light. He moved just inside the doorway and Jenna had to walk close to him to get passed. A magnetic field seemed to surround him judging by the crackling of electrical tension Jenna felt as her shoulder brushed his arm. Disconcerted, she quickly pretended to look over the room - rich cream walls, dusky apricot carpet, built-in wardrobes with mirrored doors, a pale timber dressing table and matching bedhead on the double bed.
Braden put her luggage down.
"When you're ready I'll make you something to eat."
As he closed the door Jenna dropped her handbag on the bedside table. A great wave of tiredness swept over her again. She stretched out on the bed. Oh, what bliss! After the cramped confines of the plane to be able to stretch out was sheer heaven. She closed her eyes, promising herself just a minute or two of rest before dealing with the situation she now found herself in.
She knew Jeff admired his brilliant boss, but the very disconcerting way in which she had responded to his touch made her wary about accepting his offer to stay. He was too attractive by far, and she certainly didn't need any complications in her life right now. She yawned. Just one more minute of rest ...
CHAPTER TWO
Where was she?
For one awful panic-stricken moment Jenna sat bolt upright in the bed trying to make out anything familiar in the semi-darkness. A sigh puffed her cheeks as memory and embarrassment returned. If Braden Fleetwood needed proof that she was Jeff’s gawky sister she had certainly provided it by falling asleep on his lounge and then not even being steady enough on her feet to stand up unaided. And now she realized she must have been asleep for hours. The light had been turned off, her boots removed, and a light throw placed over her.
Braden! She remembered his earlier amusement - he must have positively smirked when he had to take her boots off and cover her like a child. She felt a burning res
entment that the competent, capable adult she knew herself to be had been viewed in his eyes as a bumbling adolescent who couldn’t even confirm travel arrangements with her brother or stay awake long enough to maintain her dignity and escape to a motel for the night.
Memories of her adolescence flooded back. She had started growing tall when she was ten, and her arms and legs had seemed to develop a will of their own, knocking into things that weren’t even in the way, tripping over obstacles a kitten could have avoided. She was in a constant state of embarrassment, her face flamed with red that matched her startling hair.
When she was thirteen she had walked into the lounge room late one night and in the dark had knocked over a vase. The resulting crash brought her father bounding out of bed in time to catch sight of Jeff and his girlfriend hurriedly gathering their clothing off the lounge and racing for the door. From then on Jeff had called her “Jinx”, at first in retaliation for the trouble he was in with their parents, and then as an affectionate nickname.
She tried to tell herself it didn’t matter what Braden Fleetwood thought of her but it wasn’t true. She found the man very attractive, in spite of what appeared to be a scowl overload.
In the moonlight filtering through the vertical blinds she was able to see her watch. Two o'clock. Something must have caused her to wake so abruptly, but there was only the soft sigh of the breeze and the muted sound of occasional cars in the distant street. She turned on the bedside lamp and looked around.
At first she thought she must have imagined it. A child’s sob. No, there it was again, floating on the breeze through the bedroom window. She walked over and peered through the blind. Through the surrounding courtyard she could see the lights of high rise buildings and houses in the hills beyond.