British Bachelors & Conveniently Bedded Bundle

by Helen Brooks, Maggie Cox, Natalie Anderson, Anna Cleary

  He pointed her to a vacant table and she sat down, trembling all at once with the risk of the gamble she was about to take.

  ‘So?’ His acute gaze penetrated through to the back of her brain as if he could read all the lies she’d ever told, all her fears and failings, her empty bank account, the Demetri scandal, her uncle and aunt and their low trick.

  Ariadne drew in a long breath and met his gaze. ‘All right. I’ve made a decision. I’ll do it.’

  His eyes sharpened. ‘Do what?’

  It took her a moment to frame the words. ‘Marry you.’ She clenched her hands in her lap.

  He stilled. The lines of his face grew focused and intent. Her words seemed to crash in the air around them. It was as if the entire café receded into the distance, and he and she were the only people in the world. She had a dim realisation of the enormity of her offer.

  He sat studying her face with a frown. ‘Let me get this straight. You’re now asking me to marry you. What makes you think I want to get married?’

  Thunk, went her heart, then started knocking against her ribs.

  He lowered his black lashes, then gave a quizzical shrug. ‘I’m not sure I know what to say.’

  She felt heat flood her. The ground under her suddenly shifted. With a terrible embarrassment she realised she’d assumed too much, thinking he’d ever been willing. Aware of her cheeks burning, she tried to think of an excuse for her ghastly blunder. ‘I thought you said—my uncle had offered your company a contract.’

  ‘I didn’t say I’d accepted it.’

  He was playing it cool but alluring images were flashing through Sebastian’s mind. The contract with Giorgias Shipping, signed and sealed. Celestrial on solid ground, his workforce safe and secure. He thought of the faces around the conference table that morning, the unspoken anxiety that hung over the office. How it would feel to tell them all the company’s worries were over.

  He contemplated the woman seated across the table from him and felt a dangerous excitement streak through him. Her blue eyes were cool and guarded, her delicious lips slightly parted, as if she was holding her breath. So kissable. He remembered the taste of her, the fragrance of her skin and hair.

  Warning bells clanged Esther in some cautious part of him, perhaps he should pull back, but her sweet femininity drew the beast in him like honey. He tried not to dwell on her mouth, her satin throat, the smooth skin disturbed by one tiny, nervous pulse as she waited in taut anticipation of his response.

  He mustn’t let desire rule him. He’d vowed never to marry again, remember? He refused to be blackmailed. Still…

  She was so mouth-wateringly desirable. And last night had demonstrated pretty clearly how far he was likely to get with her if it wasn’t legal.

  Ariadne held her breath, trying to read his face, intensely aware of his scrutiny.

  He said softly, ‘Do you propose to every man who tells you he desires you?’

  His directness rocked her again, just as it had in the night. She felt intensely aware of his lean, supple hands relaxed on the table, the dark shadow outlining his chiselled mouth. But she needed to keep her head.

  She gave a shrug, just as if her pulse wasn’t racing. ‘Only if they’ve just been offered a big fat juicy contract to take me on.’

  He broke into a laugh, but there was ruefulness in its tone. ‘Poor Ariadne.’

  She clung to her cool façade. ‘This is just a wedding I’m talking about. A business contract, pure and simple. No—’

  The corners of his mouth edged up and he said, his voice softly mocking, ‘No what? Passion?’

  She felt a deep internal lurch. ‘Oh. Oh, well…’

  His mouth was grave, but his eyes were suddenly heavy with sensuality. She broke off, realising he was loving this, teasing her, saying sexy things he knew affected her, keeping her in suspense.

  His gaze flickered over her and she felt singed. ‘What happened to only marrying people on equal terms? Or did I dream that?’

  ‘No, you didn’t dream it. But you aren’t the only one who has something to gain from the marriage. I—I do too.’

  ‘What?’ He examined her face, his dark eyes shimmering. ‘Now you’re sparking my imagination. What could possibly make it worth your while to become my wife?’

  She risked meeting that scorching-hot gaze again. ‘When I get married, I can claim my inheritance. From my parents. Otherwise I have to wait until I’m twenty-five.’ The smile in his eyes was doused, and she added quickly, ‘We’d only have to stay together a few days. After that, you can go your way and I’ll go mine. You see? Everyone wins.’

  She glanced up as a waitress approached with a notebook and pencil. Toast and hot chocolate, a flat white. ‘Do you have orange juice?’ she enquired.

  Sebastian marshalled his critical faculties and considered the facts, such as they’d been presented.

  Remembering her distress last evening, he was surprised. Why had she suddenly come around to the marriage she so despised? He doubted now it had much to do with his lust-driven midnight call. Could money be an issue with her? But how was that possible? Could she have fallen out with her uncle and aunt?

  He drummed his fingers on the table, trying to reconcile his conflicting instincts, only too blazingly conscious of her blue eyes, the sweet lips that had haunted his sleep.

  She had her hair tucked back behind ears as delicately curved as cockleshells. Her slim neck held her graceful head upright, like the stem of a flower, a proud, soft, heartbreakingly beautiful flower.

  To have her for a few days, or not to have her at all?

  Marriage sounded so final, but this one wouldn’t be genuine. There’d be no emotional demands, no risk of loss here. No horror or heartache to weigh him down for years to come. A few days would pass like a flash.

  What did the man who’d already lost everything have to lose?

  Anyway, he hardly ever spent time at home. How badly could it disturb his comfort to have a woman waiting in that empty, soulless house for him for a few evenings?

  A woman whose luscious mouth had opened to him like a flower?

  The food came, and he watched her wrinkle her nose as she tasted the orange juice.

  She sipped her chocolate next, then spread butter over her toast. With graceful manners she offered him a piece, and when he refused he watched her bite into hers with her pretty white teeth. He sipped his coffee, gave her a moment to assuage her hunger, only just suppressing a groan.

  Would a few days suffice to assuage his? A few nights? A thousand and one nights?

  ‘Don’t they do breakfast at the Hyatt?’ Desire deepened his voice almost to a growl.

  ‘They do, but I—didn’t have time.’ Finished her toast, Ariadne wiped her hands on her paper napkin, then glanced up to be trapped in his smouldering dark gaze.

  ‘So you aren’t prepared to marry a man who wants you for your money, but you are prepared to marry for money.’

  ‘For my own money.’

  His mocking words gave Ariadne the dismayed sense that she’d failed. He might be burning her to the floor with his eyes, but that didn’t mean he was prepared to marry her. He was just toying with her. So what now? Beg him to give her a bed for the night? But it would be his bed, wouldn’t it?

  Desperation had brought her to this, and pride was all she had now to fall back on. Time to get out before she made an even bigger fool of herself.

  She found a note in her purse, laid it down beside her cup, then stood up. ‘All right, forget I mentioned it. It was a mistake. I thought you wanted a—a deal. I must have—misunderstood.’

  She was on the way to sweeping out when his hand snaked out and gripped her wrist. For an instant she saw something else in his eyes. Amusement. Kindness.

  ‘Hang on. Sit down a minute longer and tell me more. Just how do you envisage this deal working?’

  Her crushed hope quivered, then sprang back to buoyant life. She hesitated, conscious of the burn of his fingers on her skin, t
hen allowed herself to sit down again.

  He waited, his mouth grave, and so stirringly sexy she couldn’t help thinking of how it had felt when he’d pressed his lips to hers. That fiery sensation still seemed to linger in her nerve fibres.

  She drew a breath. ‘Well, first I considered getting a marriage certificate somehow and faking it…’

  He held up a hand, shaking his head. ‘Stop right there. This is Australia. You can be done for fraud here as fast as blinking. For God’s sake, never try to mess with a legal process that involves money here.’

  She nodded. ‘That’s why I decided I might as well go through with the real thing. I don’t want anything else from you. All I need is to marry you today.’

  He blinked. ‘Today?’

  ‘Yes. Then I’ll fax the marriage certificate to my uncle, he can notify the lawyers and have my inheritance transferred into my bank account, and I can get on with my life. And you can get on with yours.’

  ‘Whoa, hold on.’ The separate pieces of information lodged themselves into Sebastian’s brain, but, focusing on the most immediate, he held up a hand. ‘Today. I don’t think so. I told you, there are laws in this country.’

  ‘No,’ she said, her face as earnest and innocent as a nun’s. A sexy, determined nun. A nun whose smooth breasts were screened by little more than a couple of thin layers of cotton fabric. ‘I looked it up just now on the Internet. You can get the court officials to grant you a licence if you have a good reason.’

  ‘Right.’ He shook his head disbelievingly, although he had an inkling that what she’d said might be true. She’d done her homework well. It was clear Miss Ariadne Giorgias really wanted to marry him. Today. For whatever reason.

  Even in thrall to lust, he had to wonder what the emergency was.

  ‘Ah,’ he said, his voice deepening, ‘just supposing for a crazy moment I were to consider it, I’m not sure what that good reason would be. So I can assist a rich woman to get richer?’

  ‘I’m not rich,’ she said quickly. ‘If you expect that you’ll be disappointed. I just want what belongs to me.’ Then she lowered her lashes and added quietly, ‘Anyway, if you don’t care to, it doesn’t matter. I’ll probably go back to Greece.’

  Intrigued, he realised that for some reason, she needed to get married fast. And whether she knew it or not, her threat had genuine potency. He didn’t want her to go back to Greece. Not yet.

  His gaze drifted to her shoulders and arms. The feel of her ached in his memory. He itched to take her arms in his hands, feel their soft, toned resilience. Instead, he reached across and took her hands.

  ‘So tell me. What’s the big rush?’

  Her slim hands trembled in his grasp, and her gaze flooded with an awareness that sent the hot blood coursing to his loins. Nothing could have been more seductive than to inspire that look in a beautiful woman.

  But almost at once she pulled away and tucked her hands out of reach, her gaze guarded. No touching, he understood. Not until it was legal.

  ‘Well, it’s—it’s just a matter of timing.’ She evaded his eyes. ‘I’m not planning to stay in Sydney long, so it makes sense to do it at once. The sooner I marry, the sooner I’ll have my inheritance. Why wait?’

  ‘What about your dress, the church, the photographer? They all take time. And don’t you want to give your aunt and uncle plenty of notice? Surely you want them at your wedding?’

  ‘No.’ Her hands flew up in agitation. ‘Absolutely n—’ She pulled herself up and said in a low, firm voice, ‘I—I don’t want to bother them with it. I don’t want to bother anyone.’

  ‘I see.’ He considered her a moment. ‘As it happens, I have a grandmother, parents, two sisters and a brother who’d almost certainly feel cheated if I didn’t invite them to my wedding.’

  ‘Please.’ Her blue eyes widened in horror. ‘I can’t do it at all if I have to have a big ceremony and all that publicity. I’d really much prefer it if we kept it a secret from people here.’

  He raised his brows, then remembered her distress last night at the thought of the uncle’s deal being known. Still, he couldn’t imagine keeping a bride concealed for long from his highly inquisitive family. ‘Are you sure you know what you’re doing? Families have a way of finding things out.’

  Her face tensed. ‘Oh. Do you live with yours?’

  ‘Hell, no, thank God. They live across the bridge, and I live at Bronte Beach.’ He was touched with a slight discomfort then about what they would think if they knew any of this. Him taking up with a woman so spontaneously, after Esther and all she’d suffered. At least, that was how it would appear.

  ‘Why? Don’t you like them?’ Her anxious blue glance drew him.

  ‘I like them. It’s just that I have to keep a distance from them or they’d kill me with kindness.’

  Her shoulders relaxed and she brightened. ‘Good. Then what’s the worry? And anyway, how could you even think of wanting it in a church with the priest and the holy sacraments? We’ll be divorcing just as soon as we can. It’d be a—sacrilege.’ She gazed at him with scandalised reproach, then shook her head and sighed. ‘Don’t they have places here for things like this where you can just have a civil wedding? Without all the stuff? Just someone to say the words, then you sign something?’

  He made a wry grimace. ‘Sure. They have that. I thought it was the life goal of most women to have all the stuff.’

  She looked quickly at him, and he realised he’d struck some sort of chord. She said emphatically, ‘Not me.’ Then she leaned forward, her eyes suddenly blazing, her cool thrown to the winds. ‘Look, if you don’t want to do it, it’s all right, I don’t either, not really. It was a stupid idea. Let’s forget the whole thing.’

  Sebastian heard himself say coolly, ‘Relax. I’ll do it.’

  ‘Oh,’ she breathed, sitting back. ‘You will?’ The relief sparkling from her blue eyes sent his curiosity skyrocketing. What was going on? ‘Today?’

  He shrugged. ‘If I can organise the licence. There’s no guarantee, mind, but I’ll get my lawyer to give it a shot. You’d better give me your passport. There’s bound to be miles of red tape.’

  She handed him a slim zip-purse with her passport and travel documents. He slipped it in his pocket, then took her hand across the table and held it. The hand was warm and trembling, her shy, glowing eyes the same cerulean blue as the sky.

  He felt a giddy burst of desire-driven euphoria. ‘You won’t regret it.’

  ‘Of course not.’ She gave him an unsure smile. ‘We both have something to gain.’

  But he could feel her palm zinging against his like a butterfly wing. His heart accelerated to a strong certainty that his instincts about her were correct. She wanted him, he felt sure of it. He could feel the leap of response in her every touch and glance. Despite her cool little negotiation, there was passion in her, and tonight it would be his to unlock.

  A shadow hovered at the edge of his mind but he pushed it back and rose to his feet, glancing at his watch. Just about time to get back for his next meeting. Though God knew how he’d concentrate for the rest of the day on such mundane things as satellite systems when he had a wedding ahead of him. A wedding night.

  He whipped out a card and wrote his number on the back. ‘Here. I’ll phone you at the hotel when I’ve arranged things.’

  She hesitated, then said lightly, ‘It might be better if I phone you.’

  ‘Fine.’ He touched her cheek, and made a gruff attempt to soothe away the aftermath of last night’s angry exchange at the restaurant. ‘I’m—glad you feel better today.’

  Her lashes lowered. ‘Well,’ she murmured. ‘At least we know where we stand now.’

  Do we? he wondered on his athletic dash back to Celestrial. Where did he stand? Or was he floating on high above the moon? Wherever, it felt like a very unstable, rocky location, for a man used to navigating space without fear. But he was getting married in just a few short hours. Exciting, the night ahead. Crazy, perhaps
even dangerous, but it was a long time since he’d felt so exhilarated.

  So—alive.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  THE lobby at the Park Hyatt was so busy with the midweek arrivals and departures of guests, that in all the bustle no one seemed to notice when Ariadne dropped off to sleep behind her magazine. Eventually something woke her, and her immediate panicked thought was that she’d forgotten to phone Sebastian. She calmed down when she realised it was only three, and made for the public phone.

  The licence had been arranged, Sebastian informed her, and his PA had been working on the wedding all day long. A celebrant had been located, and Sebastian would pick her up just before five. Ariadne galvanised herself to action, retrieving her suitcase from the concierge and taking it to the Ladies’ to search for a more appropriate wedding outfit.

  The amazing success of her gamble at the café had left her feeling exhilarated at first, then caution had crept in. Her financial problems were all about to be solved, but the possibilities of what might happen after the wedding began to consume her. Sebastian was no preening butterfly, vacillating between mistresses. If he wanted a woman, she felt sure he’d be direct about it. She thought of his straight dark gaze, and a flame curled her insides.

  He desired her all right, she realised with an accelerating heartbeat. Would he expect her to sleep with him when it was merely a marriage of convenience? Without the blessing of the church?

  She should have talked about it to him at the café. She wished she’d had the poise to bring it up at once and deal with it gracefully. Somehow, she’d have to try to settle it before the ceremony.

  How easy would it be to talk to him about the delicate subject? Last night on the phone he’d had no trouble talking about his attraction to her, but she doubted she’d ever be able to say things like that.

  She’d always dreamed her husband would be someone she knew very well, someone who understood her and loved her, even so. With a grimace she realised that so far neither of her potential bridegrooms had fitted the profile.