Marriage in Name Only? (10 page)

‘Yes.’ She replayed his words in her head then turned, studying him with narrowed eyes. ‘Tomorrow morning won’t be any different.’

He looked far too smug as he poured himself a coffee. ‘Ah, yes, it will. Because tonight, Mrs Blackstone, we’re to be treated to an Arabian honeymoon special, courtesy of Sheikh Qasim.’

Her heart thumped once, hard. ‘What?’

‘The sheikh’s had some family emergency. It’s an apology for postponing our meeting.’

‘Postponing?’
Chloe stared at him, a spurt of panic trickling through her bloodstream. ‘How long for?’

‘I don’t know yet. I’m sure we’ll hear very soon.’ He smiled—a hint of wicked fun—over the gold rim of his cup. ‘Don’t look so worried.’

That devil’s smile was supposed to reassure?
‘So what’s this honeymoon special we’re being treated to?’ More importantly, what did it involve and how did it impact on her decision to keep that space between them?

‘It’s a magical mystery tour for me too. We have to be ready with an overnight bag by noon.’

All night. Just the two of them in some romantic getaway spot? This wasn’t good. She shook her head. ‘You go. I … have a salon appointment this afternoon.’

His eyes cooled, as rapidly as molten steel turned black
when dropped in water, and a muscle tensed in his jaw. ‘Then cancel it.’

His reaction and demand stunned her. She’d never heard him speak that way to her and shock curdled with something akin to fear beneath her breastbone. That loss of control feeling reminded her of Markos and the subtle but dangerous power he’d had over her. It was her worst nightmare and she struggled against it. ‘I … don’t want to cancel.’

His expression hardened further, the lines around his mouth deep, drawn. He set his cup down with a snap. ‘Have you forgotten why you’re here?’

‘No.’ She lifted her chin, determined not to let him forget either. ‘And it’s not to please you in bed.’

Something in his eyes warned her she’d overstepped some boundary. ‘You’re here as my wife.’ He wasn’t the smooth charmer now; he was all sharp spikes and business. ‘This is our honeymoon and we’re going to smile and act like honeymooners.’ His jaw was tight. ‘For our host at least.’

‘But our host won’t—’

‘His
staff,
Chloe.’ His eyes pinned her in place, his warning as clear as thunder over water. ‘The status of your bank balance is testament to our
new and happy marriage’

‘Yes … fine. Okay.’ She gulped, embarrassed and humiliated that he’d had to point it out, then nodded. He was right, of course. All the way right. And Jordan had every one of those rights to point out his expectations and her responsibilities. She was glad this incident had happened because for a time there she’d lost focus on the real reason she was in Dubai with Mr Blackstone, gold-mining magnate.

And relieved because now there was no way he’d want anything to do with her beyond their written agreement. He thought she’d tried to weasel her way out of it because she had a nice deposit in her bank account. His opinion of her would be rock-bottom.

He wouldn’t know why she’d said what she had—that she was afraid of her developing feelings and her increasing vulnerability. That the more time they spent together was increasingly dangerous. Let him think she was someone who couldn’t keep her promises. As agreed, she’d play the part of happy honeymooner for an audience, but anything more wasn’t going to happen.

I
T WAS A
quiet, awkward morning, both keeping out of the other’s way as they packed for their overnight stay. Jordan informed her he had to leave the hotel for a while and asked if she needed anything while he was out. She politely told him she was fine and continued to pack, relieved she had some breathing space on her own.

The helicopter arrived right on time. The pilot soon had their bags stowed and explained their journey would take thirty minutes, travelling along the coast. Chloe had never flown in a helicopter and she compared it to a magic carpet ride as they lifted off the helipad, the Arabian tower growing rapidly smaller as they gained altitude and speed.

Jordan slung an arm around her shoulders, drawing her close and pointing to a ragged group of animals moving across the sand dunes below.

Chloe put aside their differences as his hand pressed against her shoulder, his unique scent filling her nostrils as she leaned over to peer out of his side. ‘Camels?’

He nodded. ‘A bride’s dowry amongst Bedouin tribes.’

She laughed but she wasn’t feeling the humour. ‘My father would never have had enough camels to get rid of me.’

‘I’d have taken you, Blondie,’ he assured her, his voice mischievous. ‘Even without a camel.’ He squeezed her shoulder
and she forgot they were acting a part and leaned into him, absorbing the view and simply enjoying his company.

Low grey vegetation dotted the dull red sand dunes as the helicopter began its descent. Trees and date palms came into view followed by a magnificent home that reminded her of a kid’s sandcastle. Then they were touching down on a helipad in the middle of a courtyard, surrounded by wide arches leading to cool dark verandas.

A driver on staff met them in a Jeep and introduced himself as Kadar. They were quickly through the huge security gates and bumping over red sand towards nearby dunes.

Two minutes later they topped a rise, a virtual Garden of Eden appeared, the vista spread out before them like a scene from an exotic movie set. A blinding white tent like those used for outdoor weddings had been erected, gauzy curtains at the entrance swirling lazily in the drift of hot desert air. Nearby, water spilled over a rocky outcrop and into a white grotto. A shimmering sapphire and emerald pool reflected lush palms and other vibrant vegetation.

‘Oh, wow. It’s beautiful,’ she breathed.

‘And near enough to the coast to take advantage of the sea breeze in the afternoon,’ Kadar said, his teeth white against his swarthy complexion as he swung down their bags and carried them towards the tent.

‘Come on then, Blondie,’ Jordan said, taking her hand. His eyes met hers in shared subterfuge as she climbed out of the vehicle. ‘Let’s explore our home for the next twenty hours or so.’

The inside of the tent was surprisingly cooler than she’d expected as she removed her sunglasses and stepped past the gauze curtain. Sheer decadence greeted her when her eyes adjusted to the relative dimness. It was more like stepping into a palatial home, or maybe the magical interior of a genie bottle. Low swathes of crimson and purple and gold
silks. Plush black sofas arranged around the edge of an intricately designed Persian carpet. Scattered cushions, Moroccan lamps, a bowl of fresh fruit and a bottle of wine chilling in an ice-bucket on a low table.

At the far end a massive four-poster bed covered in black silk with gold and vermilion drapes. Pillows plumped and inviting. Beside her, Jordan reached out and turned her towards him with a smile and a playful eyebrow jiggle. ‘A great way to spend a lazy … or not-so-lazy, afternoon.’

Kadar cleared his throat. ‘If there is anything you require at any time, a staff member will be at your service. You will use this.’ He handed Jordan a communication device. ‘Buzz when you are ready for meals.’ He gestured to his right. ‘The cooler is stocked, there is extra linen. Communication with the outside world is not possible in the tent. If you need to contact anyone I can collect you and take you to the house. The amenities block, when you wish to bathe, is outside to your left.’ He glanced at both of them in turn. ‘No one will interrupt you here. It is private.’

Jordan squeezed her hand. ‘The perfect honeymoon retreat, right, Blondie?’ His conspiratorial twinkle had a rippling effect all down her body.

‘Couldn’t be more perfect.
Pookie.’
She knew Jordan expected her to play along but the word didn’t sound as if it was spoken by a loving wife sharing an intimate relationship. It sounded forced. It
was
forced.

If Jordan thought so, he didn’t show it. He shook hands with their driver.
‘Shukran,
Kadar.’

‘Yes,’ Chloe agreed. ‘This is very kind. Very comfortable. I’m sure we’ll enjoy ourselves.’

They stood in the tent’s shaded entrance and watched the Jeep disappear over the rise. Remained standing until the sound faded, leaving them with only the splash and trickle of water in the pool, the intermittent sound of an insect in
a nearby salt-bush. So quiet she could hear her heart beating. Loudly.

And it was like paradise, the jewelled colours of sky, sand and foliage reflected in the water and dappled sunlight glinting like gold through the palms. If only—

‘I’ve got some business to attend to,’ he told her, still watching the sand dunes, that twinkle in his eyes she’d seen earlier gone. He walked to the table where he’d put his briefcase and pulled out a pile of document folders. ‘I’m sure a girl like you can entertain herself for a while.’ She felt the sudden distance between them like a physical ache.

Arms crossed, she tapped her fingers against her upper arms. ‘Too right, I can. I’ve been doing it all my life.’ She was relieved he was going to be too busy to bother with her. His remoteness and lack of interest in sharing this amazing place did
not
disappoint her. It was what she wanted, right? It was totally unnecessary, but she couldn’t resist the clipped, ‘Don’t let me distract you from your work.’

She crossed the room and unzipped her bag, pulled out her swimsuit, a floppy hat and sunscreen. She’d seen an outdoor garden setting beneath the shade of the palms. She’d sit there and read awhile, then cool off in the water. ‘Is that little pool safe?’

‘Kadar told me it’s an underwater spring,’ he said, shuffling papers. ‘The water’s clean if you want to take a dip.’ On the table, the intercom buzzed and Jordan reached for it. ‘Yes, Kadar …’

Jordan disconnected a moment later, adrenaline zipping around his body. Qasim had left a message at the house to say he was looking forward to meeting Jordan the day after tomorrow. Finally.

He fingered a report he’d requested into mine expansion that he’d been meaning to read since they’d left Australia, then shoved it away. Dammit. He’d told Chloe he had work
to do—a lie. What he’d needed was some distance to think about where he’d gone wrong this morning.

His reaction to her plea that he come alone had been swift and vehement and over the top. If he wasn’t mistaken, he’d seen fear in her eyes, and despised himself. There was no way he’d have given her a choice, but he’d gone about it all wrong. This tension was his fault.

Pushing up, he paced to the cooler, pulled out a couple of frosty bottles of cola. When did a happy-go-lucky adventurer refuse a free and easy side-trip into the desert?

When it came with conditions—him, for example. But he might never know her reasons because he’d shot first and asked questions later. Actually, he hadn’t asked anything at all, he’d simply demanded. And it had spoilt the rapport they’d been building.

He wandered to the tent flap and saw Chloe stretched out on a bench on her stomach, reading a book. Her hat and sunglasses shielded her face so he couldn’t tell her mood. Her slim body was poured into a sunny-yellow one-piece, her legs glistening with suntan lotion.

His fingers itched to stroke the backs of those legs, starting at her well-turned ankles and working his way up to those incredibly toned thighs … Blowing out a breath, he wrenched off the top of one of the bottles, drank deeply. Still watching her. Still
imagining,
for God’s sake.

She’d had every right to point out that he hadn’t paid her to give him pleasure in the bedroom, that it had never been part of their deal. He’d just assumed he could change her mind … His track record with women had made him over-confident.

In two days’ time he’d need his focus razor sharp for what was probably the most important deal he’d ever made. The only sure way to clear his mind and give him that focus was to get Chloe out of his system. And he
knew
the attraction wasn’t one-sided, that she’d not stop him.

He stepped into the sun and began walking towards her.

He was done watching.

He was done fantasising.

Chloe knew Jordan was approaching. It was as if she’d developed a sixth sense where he was concerned. Her skin got that hot shivery sensation and her heart bopped like a teen at a rock concert. Too late to feign sleep.

And didn’t they both want the same thing after all? Wasn’t that what all this snapping and tension and tiptoeing around each other was about? Acknowledgement was like fuel adding to the fire singing through her body.

She didn’t
want
to acknowledge it. This had to stop—

At the first moist contact, she gasped, then let her breath out slowly as he drew a line of suncream down her spine. ‘Stop it.’ At least she
thought
it was suncream. Yes, it smelled like suncream. She refused to react. Closing her book, she stood. Her legs felt hot, like melting cheese. The pool looked safe and inviting and she really needed to cool off.

‘Hey, Blondie, that needs rubbing in first,’ he said behind her.

‘You put it there,’ she accused, taking off her hat and tossing it on the sand.
Not
turning around. ‘You
knew
I’d have to ask you. You did it on
purpose
. That’s …
cheating’

‘I know.’ His voice was dark silk with an edge. ‘The nice thing about a one-piece is it comes with plenty of bare back.’ He punctuated his opinion with a glide of his fingertips along one edge of her swimsuit to the base of her spine.

And so help her, her feet were stuck in the sand. His body heat was a furnace. She could feel it pulling around her like a cloak, drawing them together. ‘Rub me, then.’ She pressed her lips together before she said any more and cleared that annoying husk from her throat. ‘I can hardly go in the pool and leave a trail of white goo …’

‘Definitely not.’ He sounded amused as he set to work. ‘Whatever would our host say?’

‘I can’t imagine …’ She trailed off on a moan. His fingers were firm and skilled and sensuous as they worked from her nape and all the way down. Warm breath tickled the back of her neck and there was a trace of his familiar aftershave in the still air.

‘That’s enough.’ She whirled around to face him, clutching at her elbows to keep from reaching for him and begging him to rub other more sensitive parts that were now throbbing with excruciating intensity. ‘I … think that’s quite enough. I should be right now.’

He smiled, that big cat gleam in his eyes mesmerising her, holding her captive yet at the same time calling to her to come of her own accord and play the game—a choice, but still his game.

She glanced at the pool—her refuge since he was still fully dressed—and edged towards it. ‘You um … have work to do. I won’t keep you.’

‘Work’s over for the day. It’s playtime.’ He toed off his shoes, began unbuttoning his shirt. He glanced at the table where she saw two bottles of cola. ‘Care for a drink before we start?’

Start?
‘No, thank you.’ She ran the last few steps to the palm-shaded water and slid in feet first, breath catching with the initial shock of hot to cold. When she surfaced, Jordan was gloriously shirtless and pulling off his socks.

She slashed the water from her face and drank in the incredible definition of muscle over bone like a woman too long in the desert. He was a bronzed god, broad shoulders gleaming in the sun, his chest dusted with a smattering of dark hair. Her pulse stuttered and her lungs seemed to be fast running out of oxygen. ‘What are you doing?’
Duh …
Not only her lungs, her brain was obviously low on oxygen too.

He unbuckled the belt around his jeans. ‘What does it look like?’ With a flick of his wrist he unsnapped the stud, revealing a neat little navel and an arrow of hair that pointed to—

‘Jordan …’ She sank onto a ledge at the edge of the pool, grateful for the water’s buoyancy. Her eyes refused to look away from the front of his jeans—it was like being drawn to a car wreck. Which she desperately feared
she’d
be if she didn’t slam on the brakes before all control was lost. ‘Jordan, don’t. I’m serious.’

‘So am I.’ He grinned. A boy’s own, kiss-the-girls-and-make-them-smile kind of grin that would have had schoolgirls running towards him rather than away. His long fingers toyed with the zip. ‘Turn around if you don’t want to see.’

Turn your back on a predator?
She bit her lip. ‘You wouldn’t …’

Red flag to a bull
. As soon as the words were out she realised she’d made a big mistake. The repercussions were already clamouring in her head. ‘No. I didn’t mean …’ She trailed off as he shoved his jeans off, kicked them away.

Temporary relief coursed along her veins. He still wore boxers. Red silk with rearing black stallions … and an impressive tent in front. Oh, good gracious …

Somewhere far overhead she heard the faint sound of a jet on its way somewhere. Progress and technology. Yet here she was in the middle of a desert that probably hadn’t changed in thousands of years.

Nor had the attraction between man and woman.

Simple, she thought,
this
man was attracted to
this
woman. And vice versa.

‘You’re confused, Blondie.’

His richly amused voice reminded her she was still staring at his crotch. ‘No, I’m not.’

And she wasn’t. Not any more. Her mind was as clear as the ochre horizon. She wanted him. Around her, over her,
inside her. All of him. Why pretend otherwise? This attraction wasn’t going away and she was through fighting it. Next week she’d deal with the fallout, but next week was a million years away.