Two Weeks in the Magnate's Bed

by Nicola Marsh

  ‘That feels amazing.’

  She arched into him, torching his body, rousing it to fever-pitch as he pumped into her, his thrusts setting her breasts jiggling, his excitement ratcheting up to an unbearable level as he watched them.

  She threw her head back and, listening to her soft, urgent moans, he knew she was close as with each practised stroke he took her to the brink.

  He wanted to wait, to make it last, but with his own climax hovering she screamed out his name and bucked into him, sending him over the edge. Spasms ripped through him, a galaxy of shooting stars exploding in his head as he shot to the moon and back.

  How had he ever fooled himself into believing this was just about a light flirtation at the beginning?

  The connection he shared with this funny, smart, quirky woman was real, was unique, and was so damn perfect he’d be a fool to let her do anything but agree to his plans tomorrow.

  ‘You’re incredible.’ He brushed a kiss across her lips as she snuggled closer, stunned by the ferocity of his love for her.

  Damn, he needed space—a few minutes to reassemble his wits before he blurted his feelings in the heat of the moment and scared her.

  ‘Just going to the bathroom for a sec, okay? Don’t move an inch.’

  Lana watched Zac, her gaze greedily roving his naked back, his butt, not in the least embarrassed.

  After what had just happened, what they’d just shared, her insecurities had been well and truly blasted sky-high. But it was more than physical, more than cataclysmic sex and the exhilaration of being one.

  Something had shifted between them.

  She’d seen it in his eyes—a depth of caring that lifted her heart and transported her to a place of hope and dreams and beyond.

  But she wouldn’t dwell on emotions now. She had a whole night of snuggling in his arms to look forward to—and several repeat performances of the magic they conjured together.

  Unable to wipe the self-satisfied grin from her face, she slipped out of bed to turn off the lamp on the desk, stubbing her toe on the way.

  ‘Ouch!’ She grabbed her foot and hopped around, stumbling against the desk and knocking a stack of papers to the floor.

  Managing a wry smile—it looked as if her clumsy gene kicked in even when he wasn’t around—she scooped up the papers, and several photos that had fallen out of an envelope.

  Her heart stilled as she glanced at the photos. Every one depicted Zac: in front of Sydney’s newest high-rise business centre in a designer suit, shaking hands with the Prime Minister, behind a huge conference table filled with international delegates, standing behind an older man with a hand on his shoulder and the name plaque ‘CEO, Madigan Shipping’ in front of him.

  She stared at the photos, confused, a million questions buzzing through her brain.

  Who was the guy she’d just made love to, had given her heart to?

  He stepped out of the bathroom at that moment, a lazy grin on his face as he glanced towards the bed. His grin faltered as he looked towards the desk, at what she held in her hands, and the colour draining from his face.

  ‘I guess you have some questions—’

  ‘Who are you?’

  She hated the uncertainty, the accusation in her voice. She shouldn’t have pried, should have shoved the photos back where they belonged, but now she’d seen them she needed answers.

  Running a hand through his mussed hair, he padded over to join her. ‘I own this shipping company.’

  ‘You own it?’

  He nodded, managing to appear proud and bashful and ashamed all at the same time. ‘I’m actually the new CEO of Madigan Shipping. My uncle used to run the company, but he recently handed over the reins to me. We haven’t formally announced it yet.’

  She didn’t get this. Why would a CEO be working on one of the ships he ran?

  ‘So what’s the PR stint all about? Trying to keep a tight leash on your employees?’

  ‘Nothing like that.’

  He took a robe from a wardrobe hook and offered it to her. Mustering as much dignity as an indignant naked woman could, she shrugged into it like a queen into royal robes, grateful when he slipped his shirt and trousers back on. She could do without distraction while they had this cosy little chat, though by the sense of foreboding clawing its way to consciousness she knew they’d never be cosy again once they’d finished talking.

  Indicating she take a seat, he perched on the edge of the bed. ‘The company’s being targeted by a saboteur. Small things at first—dangerous levels of chlorine in the pools, things we could catch before they did any real damage—but the incidents have been growing in severity. Now I need to find the culprit and put a stop to it.’

  He paused, looking suitably shamefaced.

  ‘To collect the evidence I need, I had to go undercover. This ship was the most likely to be attacked next, and no one knows who I am. As far as they know James Madigan is still CEO—a distant figurehead they’d never connect with me.’

  She couldn’t fault Zac for being dedicated to his job, for wanting to protect the company he owned. She of all people understood what it was like to be driven to be the best in her field. But if he didn’t work on ships anymore, if he was now stuck behind that great big desk she’d glimpsed in the photos…

  ‘Where are you based?’

  The instant he looked away she knew.

  He wasn’t married to his precious job aboard ships.

  He wasn’t so enamoured of the sea he’d never leave it for her.

  He wasn’t interested in her, period.

  At least not enough to have a real relationship beyond this—this fling, or whatever it was they’d had.

  ‘Where?’

  Her voice had risen, and his gaze locked on hers, regret mingling with apology in those endless blue depths.

  ‘Sydney.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Look, Lana, I was going to tell you—’

  ‘Save it.’

  Turning her back on him, she slipped off the robe and yanked on her old clothes, lying in a sad heap on the floor. A bit like her pathetic dreams of happily-ever-after.

  She stalked to the door without a backward glance—had her hand on the handle before he crossed the small space and slammed his palm on the door.

  ‘You need to hear me out.’

  Holding her breath, determined not to breathe in and let his heady scent, his proximity, undermine her resolve to walk out of here with what little dignity she had left, she turned to face him.

  ‘Actually, I don’t.’

  He didn’t budge. ‘I didn’t tell you because I’m not going to be based in Sydney for the next year.’

  She wouldn’t ask him where he was going—wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of showing a small part of her was curious, a small part of her still cared.

  ‘I’ll be based in London.’

  ‘How nice for you.’

  Her sarcasm fell on deaf ears as he fixed her with that steady, unwavering stare. So what if he appeared honest now? She couldn’t trust one word falling from his mouth. Not when he’d been lying to her the entire time.

  She hated liars.

  Jax had lied to her, had feigned interest in her to get the inside scoop on some precious artefacts he wanted to add to his private collection, had belittled her. He’d ruined what little self-confidence she’d ever had. But she hadn’t really loved Jax as she loved Zac. So what the heck would she do this time around to cope with the devastation of being lied to by another rich guy playing games to suit his own ends?

  He dragged his free hand through his hair, his expression crushed. ‘My uncle’s dying. He has a year to live, max. He’s my only family and he’s in London. I owe him. I have to be there for him.’

  Her anger fractured. A tiny crack that allowed a modicum of sympathy to seep in.

  But why was he telling her this? It was irrelevant. He’d still lied to her, had always known there’d be nothing between them beyond this fortnight.


  ‘I was going to tell you. I was hoping we could try a long-distance relationship.’

  Her tummy trembled as for one brief moment she contemplated what it would be like being involved with a guy like him for more than two weeks: to call him her boyfriend, to cross off days on a calendar, counting down the minutes till she saw the love of her life again.

  But she couldn’t do it.

  If she couldn’t trust him to tell her the truth when they were together, what hope would she have with him on the other side of the world for three hundred and sixty-five long, interminable days?

  She needed honesty. She needed trust.

  By his actions, Zac could give her neither.

  With a shake of her head she placed a hand on his arm barring her escape and pushed.

  ‘I’m not interested.’

  She didn’t have to push hard, as the second the words left her mouth an icy, impassive mask slid into place. His eyes were a cold, hard blue as his arm dropped and he stepped out of her way.

  ‘Well, I guess I was just one of those new experiences you were so hell-bent on trying this trip.’

  With soul-deep sadness clawing at her insides, robbing her of breath, she scrambled for the door handle.

  ‘Hell. Lana, wait—’

  She flung open the door so hard it almost fell off its hinges, then slammed it behind her and didn’t look back.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  ZAC sank onto the bed and dropped his head in his hands, the echo of the slamming door reverberating in his ears.

  He’d stuffed up—made a major mess of things.

  He should be hurt by Lana’s refusal to contemplate a long-distance relationship, should be smarting.

  But he wasn’t. He knew the score.

  He’d seen the devastation in her eyes when she’d learned the truth, and he knew it wouldn’t have hurt that much if she didn’t love him as much as he loved her.

  Every one of her responses had been genuine, from the first moment he’d met her until now, so there was no mistaking the depth of feeling simmering below the surface, the raw pain he’d seen in her eyes.

  He’d hated hurting her, however inadvertently, had wished he’d told her everything from the start. But it was too late for wishful thinking.

  A part of him wanted to give her space, a year’s worth of it, before coming back and trying again. He’d learned through his experience with Magda that if you loved someone enough you needed to give them space to grow and change. She hadn’t wanted that space, but Lana would. She’d said as much in her quest for new things. Maybe he should give her a year to do what she had to do, then reenter her life and start afresh?

  As pain rocketed through him he knew he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t leave her that long. He loved her too much.

  He was a man of action—prided himself on it. Business plans, mission statements, corporate policies—he could take a plan and turn it into reality. And that was exactly what he would do here.

  He loved Lana, and he would prove it to her whatever it took.

  And as much as he wanted to chase after her now, sweep her into his arms, cradle her close and tell her everything would be okay, he wasn’t that stupid.

  She needed time to calm down, time to evaluate, really evaluate what had happened here tonight. Before the photos, before the accusations, before the truth.

  Simply, they were meant to be, and he had every intention of making that happen.

  She’d been summoned to the bridge by the Captain for him to thank her for taking the classes. Great—just what she needed. Instead of disembarking as fast as she could, she’d have to go through the final rigmarole of playing the dutiful employee.

  What a crock. This whole trip had been a crock, from start to finish, and she wished she’d never won the darn thing.

  Knocking at the door, she grimaced at her reflection in the glass. Lucky things had ended with Zac last night, for if she’d been a plain Jane before and he’d still been attracted to her he’d swim a mile regardless if he saw the frightful mess she looked today.

  Placing both hands against the glass, she peered into the massive room, glimpsed a flash of uniform on the other side.

  All those gadgets probably made noise and had muffled her knock, so she opened the door, stepped into the huge control centre.

  ‘Captain?’

  She heard a footfall, sensed a presence behind her, and her skin prickled as if she’d eaten a crate of strawberries.

  Oh-oh—a ship’s captain she’d never met wouldn’t have that effect on her. Only one man did. The same man she never wanted to see again as long as she lived.

  ‘I needed to see you. The Captain was kind enough to do my dirty work.’

  ‘That’d be right.’

  Her voice quivered as she turned, faced him, hating the fact that after all the heartache the sight of him could still reduce her to this—a nervous wreck.

  ‘I need to know if I’ve missed the boat.’

  She stared at him as if he’d taken leave of his senses, glancing out of the huge windows at Circular Quay on her left, the Opera House on her right, and the ship firmly berthed at its moorings.

  He gazed directly into her eyes. ‘Have I?’

  In an instant she knew he wasn’t referring to the ship. ‘What’s this about?’

  He tugged on his tie—totally skewed, she noticed. He didn’t appear the consummate professional for once, with dark stubble covering his chin and bleary eyes surrounded by dark rings. He looked as bad as she felt.

  ‘I’ve been going out of my mind since last night.’

  She shrugged, unprepared for the swift stab of pain at the recollection of what they’d shared and lost last night.

  ‘You should’ve thought of that before you lied to me.’

  ‘Please, let me finish.’

  He sounded like a little boy asking for the last toy boat for his bathtub, and though her head told her to run, her heart told her to hold her ground.

  ‘You shouldn’t have discovered the truth by those photos. I—’

  ‘It wasn’t about the photos, damn it!’

  She took a steadying breath, as surprised by her outburst as him. She never shouted or lost control. Well, not unless she counted the times when he’d made agonisingly sweet love to her last night.

  He opened his mouth to respond and she held up a hand. ‘It’s the fact you’re based in Sydney, the fact you’re mega-rich, the fact we could’ve had more than two weeks if you hadn’t let me believe—’

  Let her believe he was a sailor. Let her believe his precious job was all-important. Let her believe for one, tiny speck in time she might actually mean more to him than a handy lay.

  ‘Believe this.’

  He swept her into his arms and kissed her—a divine, devastating kiss that demanded more than she was willing to give.

  For all of two seconds.

  Powerless to resist, she responded by softening her lips, allowing him access to her mouth. The logic of pushing him away was shattered by the hunger of his kiss.

  Her eager response shocked her more than the kiss itself and she broke away, dragging in breaths to clear her fuzzy head.

  ‘Damn it, I didn’t mean for that to happen.’

  He raked a hand through his hair, adding to his rumpled state, and she clenched her hands, shaken by how much she wanted to reach out and smooth it for him.

  Shrugging, she wrapped her arms around her middle to ward him off. ‘I guess it always came down to that for us, didn’t it? A chemical reaction. Nothing more.’

  ‘You’re wrong.’

  Grabbing hold of her arms, he left her no option but to look up—and what she glimpsed in his eyes sent a shiver of sorrow through her.

  Pain. A soul laid bare. A soul lost and confused and reaching out. Just like hers.

  ‘I didn’t want to fall for you. I didn’t want to get emotionally involved. But I did.’

  ‘Just not enough?’

  His declaration should have had
her running outside, vaulting the rail and doing a perfect dive into the water, but it merely served to widen the gap. Too little, too late. She could never trust him now.

  ‘It happened to me once before. In my early days while I was still working the ships. I fell for a passenger.’ His mouth twisted into a grimace. ‘I fell so hard I ended up marrying her.’

  Shock speared her, and she tightened her arms around her belly to ward off the pain.

  ‘I gave up my job for her—left the ships for a year. I gave the marriage everything, paid her the attention she demanded, but it wasn’t enough. She couldn’t handle my career when I went back to it, my absences. She changed. Her appearance, her outlook, her needs, her lover—’

  Her gaze snapped to his. She was not surprised by the hard, unyielding blue, or the sadness underlying his bitterness.

  ‘That’s why I overreacted that night you had the makeover. Another woman I loved changing before my eyes. Stupid, I know.’

  Her befuddled brain backed up a sentence or two, wondering if she’d heard him correctly.

  He must have seen the confusion clouding her eyes, for he took advantage of her bewilderment by caressing her arms before his hands slid up to cradle her face.

  ‘That’s right. I love you. Whether you’re a fitness instructor or a curator or dressed to the nines or in nothing at all. I love you.’

  Her heart leapt at the sincerity in his voice, the tenderness in his eyes. She wanted to fling her reservations to the wind and leap into his arms.

  But she couldn’t. It looked as if her fortnight of being frivolous had ended when the ship docked, and now she was back in Sydney she couldn’t shake her conservative ways.

  ‘I appreciate you telling me. But what about the rest? Why didn’t you come after me last night? Explain all this then?’

  Instead she’d spent a sleepless night, alternating between cursing him, herself, and the great cosmos that had brought them together in the first place.

  ‘Because I had to tie up loose ends.’

  ‘Loose ends?’

  Her heart sank. She knew his declaration of love was too good to be true.

  ‘As you know, I’m the new CEO of Madigan Shipping. When I ditched my job for a year to be with Magda I didn’t know my uncle was about to hand over the corporation to me. I let him down, and because of ongoing job stress he had a heart attack.’