‘I have to say, being sat in a moving vehicle while blindfolded isn’t top of my list of fun.’
‘Well, I’d hoped our antics last night might have meant you fell asleep.’
She laughed at that. ‘Ah, so that explains your extreme virility.’
‘Hey, I’m always virile.’ His mock hurt had her cracking up further, her hand reaching blindly for his leg, his upper thigh, his—
‘Behave!’
‘Spoilsport,’ she complained as she heard the tick of the indicator and the car start to slow.
‘Not really,’ he said. ‘It’s only because we’re here.’
‘Ooh, great.’ Excited, she moved to take off the blindfold.
‘No, not yet.’ She let her hands fall away, turning her head to face him even though she couldn’t see. ‘I’ll do it when the time is right.’
Her body swayed as the car turned, the sound of gravel crunching beneath the tyres reaching her.
Where were they?
She waited patiently for the car to come to a stop. ‘Now can I take it off?’
‘Nope.’
She heard him open his door, felt the car shift with his weight as he stepped out and then it closed shut. She nibbled nervously over her lip, ears straining for his approach. She could hear his feet over the gravel, the latch go on her door as he swung it open and then his hand closed around hers, encouraging her out.
Awkwardly, she straightened and he cupped her upper arms.
‘Okay, now turn a little.’ She did as he asked, his hands guiding her. ‘Now stop.’
He released her, his fingers moving to untie her blindfold. ‘Ready?’
She nodded, every sense on high alert as he slipped the fabric away.
No way.
Before her, in all its picture-postcard glory, was property number one, the house of her dreams. ‘But—But it was sold?’
‘Let’s just say the new owner was very reasonable when I explained how much the love of my life adored the house,’ he said smoothly. ‘He couldn’t help but sell it to me—to us.’
She laughed, her head shaking in disbelief. ‘How much?’
He blew through his lips on a pfft. ‘So much for trying to be romantic. There’s no pulling the wool over your eyes, is there?’
‘Absolutely not,’ she said, sending him a quick grin and looking back to the house, her jaw slackening in awe—he’d really bought it? For her?
‘I knew you loved it,’ he said softly. ‘Watching you that first viewing, I think I spent all of it looking at you, rather than it. But when I came back last month—’
‘You came back?’
‘Well, yes, I had to be sure it wasn’t some death trap waiting to happen and that I wasn’t being blinded by some crazy romantic notion.’
She laughed again. ‘Oh, I definitely think it’s crazy.’
She could sense him frown. ‘You do?’
‘Totally.’ She waved her hands at its magnitude. ‘Who buys their girlfriend a house for her birthday?’
He came up behind her, his arms wrapping around her middle and drawing her close. She leant back into his inviting warmth, her arms coming up to overlay his own.
‘No, perhaps you’re right.’ He dropped his head into the crook of her shoulder and nuzzled into her neck, a small contented sound rumbling low in his throat resonating right along her spine. ‘But I would buy it for my wife.’
What? She stilled. He couldn’t mean?
She turned in his arms, her gaze wide-eyed and welling. ‘Are you...?’
He grinned, his face so full of love he stole her words away.
‘Will you marry me, Zara Anders?’
He slipped his hand into the pocket of his jeans and she dropped her gaze, watching as he lifted it back up to her. There, in his upturned palm, rested a diamond ring, its single solitaire sparkling in the sunlight. Her heart swelled so big, she could scarce draw breath, the word ‘Yes’ slipping from her lips barely audible.
She watched as he took it up and slipped it over her proffered finger.
‘I feel like I’m dreaming,’ she whispered.
He interlaced his fingers through her engaged hand, his other tilting her chin up to face him. ‘Do you need me to prove you’re not? Because I can think of some very effective ways to show you that...and I quite fancy reliving the pond moment.’
He wiggled his brow, all hopeful, and she erupted in a giggle, the swing from romantic to horny sending her giddy. ‘You’re insatiable.’
‘And you’re a permanent tease on my senses. I say we’re even.’
‘Even, you say?’ She nodded, giving mock-consideration to his words, her love for him swelling hard and fast.
‘Uh-huh.’
She beamed. ‘I love you.’
‘And I love you, Mrs Lazenby-to-be.’
He dropped his head to claim her, his mouth gentle and coaxing over hers. She lost herself in his surprising softness, her body turning to liquid, and then he dropped forward, one arm hooking beneath her legs and swinging her up, forcing out a startled squeal.
‘Pond. Now!’
* * *
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Rescue Me
by Faye Avalon
CHAPTER ONE
“THIS ISN’T THE way to the church.”
Had she not been contemplating her impending marriage to a man several years her father’s senior and fighting off a headache made worse by the cloying scent of the wedding bouquet at her side, Maddie Mallory might have noticed earlier the detour the limousine had taken. Noticed that they were heading away from central London and the centuries-old church where she would say I do in a little over fifteen minutes’ time. She might even have grown a bit alarmed.
As it was, she glanced beyond the tinted windows searching for road signs verifying the change of route, but everything seemed normal outside the limo’s claustrophobic interior. Car horns blasted, lorries drove too close to other vehicles, cyclists took their lives in their hands weaving in and out of the traffic, and pedestrians played vehicular dodge as they zigzagged across the busy road. Yes, a normal Friday afternoon in the nation’s capital.
Except it wasn’t normal. Not for Maddie. It wasn’t normal to be signing her life away to become someone’s wife, at least on paper.
She glanced over her shoulder, some part of her celebrating the diminishing blur of the church’s steeple as they travelled away from it. For one exhilarating moment, she wondered if she was being kidnapped. Whisked away from this farcical wedding and all it entailed.
The relief that trembled through her was palpable.
If only...
Of course, her failure to show up at the church and go through with the sham ceremony in front of the distinguished guests meant her father risked everything.
Since she was largely to blame, it fell to her to rectify the situation now. But did the price have to be so high? Marrying a man she didn’t care two hoots for? Signing away her freedom?
Which reminded her...
Shifting layers of organza and satin out of the way, Maddie leaned forward and pushed aside the glass privacy panel to get the chauffeur’s attention. “Didn’t you hear me? I said this isn’t the way to the church.”
When the man showed no indication of having heard her, let alone answering her, Maddie met his dark gaze in the rearview mirror.
The peak of his uniform hat shaded his forehead, but the slash of eyebrows above a considered glance from steely grey eyes moved through her like a distant bitter memory. It coiled in her stomach, shivered in her limbs and sent awareness from her breasts to her core.
Was she finally losing it? Had she conjured him up in her fevered brain? Because no way on earth could it be him. She was seeing things.
Shit. This was no time for hallucinations. Most certainly not the kind that involved Gabe Harrington. If it wasn’t for him, she wouldn’t be in her current predicament.
She wanted to blame him entirely, but really she was the one who’d messed up. Big-time. Largely because she’d been unable to hold her stupid hormones in check. Instead of keeping her eye on the ball, she’d hooked up with a man who had given her the most devastatingly erotic week of her life—before taking what he really wanted.
The limo turned at traffic lights toward City Airport, cutting through the tunnel of unwanted memories. This was most definitely not a detour to her nuptials.
Panic started to edge along her spine. What the hell was happening?
She leaned farther forward, virtually poking her head through the opening. “You’d better stop this car right now.”
Still no reaction.
Turning, she reached for the door handle and tugged hard, but it wouldn’t budge. Was she really being kidnapped? Abducted? Had she somehow brought her fevered wishes into reality?
She tried the door again, pushed the button for the window release, but that was locked, too. Rapping on the windows to get attention from passers-by would be futile, since nobody noticed much of anything but their own business in London.
The limo had picked up speed and was nudging the outskirts of the airport.
Maddie searched around, looking for her phone. She had a vague memory of putting it in the bag which Laura, her bestie, had taken to the church for her. All she had was the stupid bouquet.
“Stop this bloody car,” she shouted. “Or I’ll have you up on charges.”
In the mirror she met his gaze again. Dark eyes glittered back at her, making the ominous feeling escalate.
“And just how do you intend on doing that, princess?”
Everything inside her went cold. It couldn’t be. Just couldn’t be. Yet that voice, trickling over her like warm rich chocolate, with just a hint of bad boy beneath the cultivated exterior, was unmistakable. As was the deep grey gaze, the one that had slid over every inch of her naked body while she’d lain depleted beneath him.
Hell.
She was definitely hallucinating. Had slipped into some kind of parallel universe. It was the only explanation. Or maybe she was dehydrated. People saw weird things when they were dehydrated.
It was difficult to breathe. All the air seemed to have been sucked out of the car’s interior. Brilliant. Add hyperventilating to the dehydration. This was exactly the time to lose her bloody mind.
When his focus turned to the road again, putting his profile in shadow, she could think a little straighter. There was no way it could be him. What the heck would he be doing driving a bridal car? He’d be brokering some deal in the Far East, or New York, or wherever else he could dip his talented fingers into some lucrative pie. She’d obviously superimposed Gabe’s face on the driver, heard his disembodied voice projected by her own imaginings. She even thought she could smell him. That masculine, citrusy cologne he favoured, mixed with the intoxicating scent of...him.
Briefly, she closed her eyes. Fire shot through every nerve ending, making her senses reel. Her heart squeezed so tightly she thought she might pass out.
Hell, but life was cruel, choosing this moment to make her remember one of the happiest yet most painful periods of her life.
Opening her eyes, she forced herself to focus. She had enough problems right now without resurrecting old wounds, especially when they had the power to slice her in half.
All that mattered was getting to the church. Except they were so far away from it now, and the car’s doors and windows were locked. And...
The limo came to an abrupt halt at a red light. His gaze lifted to hers again, and despite her determination to focus on the present, she was immediately transported back to heady nights, tangled limbs, hot kisses. Of lying naked with him alone on a yacht off the coast of Monaco, the sun beating down on their sated bodies. Of the trickle of champagne over her breasts, sinking into her navel, dripping between her opened legs. The feel of his hot, wet tongue licking along the Moët’s path, the thrust of his rigid cock inside her as she gave herself over to his adept skills...
“Your veil’s slipped, princess.”
Maddie jerked. The heavy sarcasm dumped her straight back into the middle of the dark pit she had fought to crawl out of.
It was him. Gabe Harrington.
“What?”
“Your veil,” he said and tapped his own head. “It’s skewed.”
Instinctively, she reached up and adjusted the veil, her heart hammering both from the effects of her erotic memories and from having the source of them show up completely out of the blue.
The bastard.
The words projected like bullets across the space that divided them, propelled by each thunderous beat of her heart and the desperate need to lash out.
She couldn’t see his mouth in the mirror, but his eyes crinkled at the corners and did ridiculous things to her stomach.
“Except, as you’ve no doubt worked out, you’re not going to the church, are you?”
She tried to think, fought to remain calm as the car sped off when the light turned green.
“I don’t know what the hell you think you’re doing.”
“Saving you.”
She glared back at his reflection in the mirror. “Kidnapping me, more like. Is that how you get your kicks now? What? Did the property investment business lose its charm? Or did you just run out of people to swindle.”
He had the audacity to laugh. Full out. It cut through her ribs like the sharpest blade. How could he find humour in what he’d done to her father? To her?
“Let’s just say I consider it my public duty to save a woman from doing something that can’t possibly be in her best interests.”
Indignation rose thick and fast. She was so sick of people—men—telling her what was in her best interests. “Oh, I get it. One week spent fucking me and you think you’re an expert on what’s good for me, on what I want?”
“I know you don’t want a man old enough to be your frigging grandfather.”
Arrogant bastard. “So what’s this theatrical display really about? And don’t give me any bullshit about it being in my best interests. As I recall, you don’t do other people’s best interests.”
“Maybe things change.”
“But you don’t. You’re not the type. If you must know, you’re keeping me from marrying a man who has given me more respect and consideration than someone like you would ever be capable of doing.”
Mr. Temptation Page 18