Marriage in Name Only? (13 page)

‘We made a good team today,’ she said, quickly busying herself kneading his shoulders with her thumbs and nipping at his jaw with her teeth.

He walked his fingers all the way down her spine and tucked her close so she fitted against him, snug as moss on a log. ‘We’re good together.’

‘Yes …’

Rucking up her skirt then winding her arms around his neck, she practically climbed up him and hooked her legs around his waist. Her feminine heat pressed against his pelvis, her intoxicating eyes … he could drown in those eyes … If he wasn’t careful. If he was honest …

‘There’s something I want to tell you first,’ he said, holding her close. ‘I came clean with Qasim. I told him we weren’t married.’

She leaned back to look at him, her hands still around his neck. ‘After all the trouble and expense you went to? Why?’

‘It just seemed wrong. It
was
wrong. I’ve wanted this for so long. Winning this meant so much to me that I lost sight of everything else. But I realised today when I walked into that room that I wanted to win it without resorting to deception.’

She nodded. ‘I’m glad. It’s much better this way.’

He saw the questions in her eyes and he suddenly wanted to share his story with her. ‘I want to I tell you why this is so important to me.’

‘Okay,’ she said quietly, and slid down his torso until her feet touched the ground.

Without letting her go, he led her to a window seat and sat her down and looked into those liquid amber eyes. ‘You already know my father died before he could close an important deal he’d set up in the UAE. But what I didn’t tell you was that I was a selfish, self-centred undergraduate who was flunking his course and should have been there for him when he needed me …’

When he was done telling her, she squeezed his hand, her eyes filled with understanding and respect. ‘You’d have made him so proud today.’

‘I promised him I’d fix it if it was the last thing I did and I think I managed that.’ He felt lighter, as if a huge weight had been lifted. Finally, after all the years of hard work, he’d found some sort of closure. And sharing the moment with Chloe was something he’d always remember.

‘So, what did Qasim say when you told him about us?’ Chloe asked.

‘That he appreciated my honesty. He told me I was the best man for the job whether I was married or not.’

She nodded. ‘You didn’t need me after all.’

He shook away a sudden melancholy her words invoked and dragged her onto his lap, spreading her thighs on either side of his. ‘It was much more fun with you along.’

‘It has been fun.’ She seemed as keen as him to change the mood. ‘And I’ve made plans. Tonight’s on me. And you too, if you like.’ She grinned and he caught her meaning.

‘I like.’ Grinning back, he spread his hands beneath her buttocks, fingers skimming the edge of her panties. ‘Very much. But I thought you liked being on top?’

‘I like being any which way with you. But about dinner—why don’t we go back to our little beach-side place? This is
our Last Supper—I’d like to end where we began. Closure and all that.’

‘We don’t have to leave tomorrow,’ he decided. He’d change their flights. ‘We could take a couple more days …’ He wasn’t ready to go home to his all-work no-play world yet. They weren’t done. In fact, they’d only just started.

Her agile body stilled. ‘And then what?’

‘Try skiing Dubai style and sleeping in till noon with not much sleeping going on …’ He trailed off because the eyes staring into his weren’t the let’s-have-fun ones he’d just been looking at.

‘It’s not going to change anything, Jordan.’

What wasn’t? ‘Not sure what you mean.’

‘It’s only delaying the inevitable. We agreed to do this. And now it’s done. Over.’

Jordan stared at her, a not-so-good feeling in his gut. ‘What are you saying?’

‘I don’t want us to linger on and die a slow, painful death. And that’s what’s going to happen with us. We might have a fantastic meal tonight and follow it up with equally fantastic sex—
Pookie
—but if we let it continue eventually it’s going to fade because that’s all we have in common. And that’s not taking into consideration your busy schedule and my propensity for not sticking around.’

‘Yeah, but until then—’

‘So when we get home—’

‘That’s it.’

She nodded, her eyes not quite meeting his. ‘I told you, I finish what I start. No loose ends before I move on.’

Or did she leave before someone else finished whatever it was for her?

‘Chloe …’ He trailed off because what could he say? She had it right. No loose ends. They’d had fun and they’d always known it was only about the business deal with a little diversionary
side-trip along the way. She didn’t want to live in his world, nor had he asked her to. Sometimes he didn’t want to live in it either. There were days he wished he could chuck the whole thing in and be like Chloe—free as the wind, no employees depending on him for an income. An unknown face in the crowd.

If she wanted to leave tomorrow, so be it. ‘We’d better make the most of the rest of the time we have left, then.’

She leaned in so that every luscious part of her touched every wire-taut part of him, then reached for his belt buckle. ‘That’s what I was hoping you’d say …’

Chloe was determined to make the evening special—a time to remember. She’d arranged the table with the best view over the beach, best French champagne to toast their success. She recounted her adventures and challenged Jordan to pick the fake—the near disastrous white-water rafting expedition, her night in a haunted castle with a team of paranormal investigators, the evening she and a girlfriend had ended up in a well-known movie star’s suite sipping bubbly with the cast of her latest blockbuster.

He listened to her as if what she had to say was worth something. Not only listened, but actually conversed with her on topics they’d never covered. He seemed to understand her on so many levels and, for the first time in what seemed like forever, she felt uplifted, valued, appreciated.

After dinner they strolled along the beach talking of anything and everything, then sat on the sand, stared up at the northern constellations and shared the evening’s silence. Their fingers were barely touching yet it was as if he’d become an integral part of who she was. Warming her body, unlocking her heart and breathing life into her soul.

She couldn’t allow herself to fall further and yet she feared it was already too late.

Later, in their suite with the moonlight casting bars across the floor, he took his time removing her clothes, lingering over every centimetre of skin he bared as if each were a rare jewel. When she was naked, he knelt before her and worshipped her body with a skill and expertise she could only shiver and sigh and moan over.

And when she could no longer stand, he laid her on the bed and continued his homage to her womanhood with hands and mouth, teeth and tongue. Time drifted like the gentle lap and wash of the tide and she clung to him to keep from floating away. Who knew a man’s touch could be so slow and easy? Or his body so finely crafted that he was masculine perfection?

He slid his perfect body on top of her then—hard muscle and warm skin a spine-tingling friction. She drew a luxurious breath, inhaling his personal scent and the faint fragrance of Eastern spices. Then forgot to breathe at all as she looked into his midnight-blue eyes and flew with him over the edge of their magic carpet fantasy.

I love you
.

Simple.

Impossible.

Finally, energy spent and desire sated, tangled together on the silken sheets, they slept.

T
HEY LANDED IN
Melbourne late at night during a rainstorm. The heavy sky was still spitting its vengeance on the windscreen as Jordan’s chauffeured car neared the CBD. Which was only fitting, Chloe thought. She’d wear the weather as an accessory. That way no one would notice her mood or her tears. Except she was determined not to cry until she reached the privacy of her bedroom.

She’d planned to get her own cab but there was no press around and cabs were thin on the ground, so Jordan’s car it was. They’d barely spoken during the flight, made easier by their individual wraparound seats. Thank God for wealthy businessmen. Both of them had been tired after almost no sleep the previous night, so, apart from when Jordan had been working furiously on his laptop or on the phone, most of the time one or the other had been asleep.

Or in Chloe’s case, pretending to be. It had been hard, but necessary, and it had left her almost dead on her feet, a blessing, she hoped, that would help her crash out for the next twelve hours.

The car turned into her street. ‘It’s late,’ he said. ‘Stay at my apartment tonight.’

Her heart leapt at his invitation, but she pressed her lips together and looked out of the window. It was only delaying the inevitable and she didn’t want to see his apartment. To
know where he lived and imagine him there. Worse, imagine him there with another woman. ‘No, Jordan.’

‘Then let me stay here. With you.’

Something in his tone had her turning to him. She’d never seen that look in Jordan’s eyes. Clearly, he wasn’t used to being turned down. ‘I told you my bed’s too small.’

He looked as if he might argue, then glanced at the driver up front, and Chloe realised it was costing Jordan to sweet-talk her into something he must know she’d refuse in front of his staff.

‘I have a headache,’ she improvised for the sake of his pride as they pulled into the kerb. ‘Jet lag. I need an uninterrupted night’s sleep.’

The driver climbed out to retrieve her luggage from the boot, leaving them alone in the back seat. She dug through her bag ostensibly looking for her keys.

‘So this is it, then.’ His voice was hard and remote-sounding.

‘Yes.’ She heard the tremor in her voice and tightened her fingers around her keys, then hoisted her bag onto her shoulder, desperate to get away. ‘Thanks for—’

‘Save it.’ He wrenched his door open. ‘Like it or not, I’m walking you to your damn door. You can
thank
me then.’

Rain spat on her face, chilling her as she hurried up the path, Jordan following with her bag. Somehow she got the key in the lock, then turned to him. Thankfully the security light didn’t seem to be working and it was dark under the veranda. But not dark enough to miss the granite set of his jaw, the flash of—was that temper?—in his eyes.

Why? Because he hadn’t got his own way? Something inside her responded in kind. And far better for her self-preservation to turn her misery into irritation or annoyance. Just because she’d gone and fallen in love with him didn’t
mean she was going to let him change her mind and go against what she knew was the right decision. For both of them.

So toughen up, Chloe
. She wasn’t going to apologise for her choice. He had a masters degree in seduction and another in persuasion and she wasn’t going to allow a man to make her decisions for her ever again.

‘Chloe. Listen up.’ Stepping close, he tilted her face up to his with a finger so she had no choice but to look into his eyes, shuttered now, betraying little of what he was feeling. His temper seemed to have dissipated and he spoke with a measured calm. ‘I don’t want to stop seeing you but I made a promise when we signed our agreement. I’m not going to force you into something you don’t want.’

‘Tha—’

‘Or should I say, what you
do
want but you’re too afraid to admit.’ His hand fell away and he stepped back, leaving her feeling chilled to the bone and totally exposed because he read her like a book.

She firmed her chin. ‘With regards to our
business
arrangement, if anything changes with Qasim or the deal, and you need my assistance, please let me know.’ She knew she sounded PA prim.

His eyes held hers captive. ‘If you change your mind about us, or decide to come clean with me, you have my contact details.’

He didn’t kiss her goodbye, just spun on his Italian leather shoe’s heel and walked down her path, his black cashmere coat flapping behind him. Taking her heart with him.

But not her independence, not her identity. She still had those, at least.
And will they keep you warm on a cold winter’s night?
a little voice whispered.

At the gate he turned back, spine rigid, his eyes darker than midnight. ‘You say you like to finish what you start. We
started something and it’s not finished, so I’m wondering, how do those loose ends sit with you, Chloe?’

Then he was gone.

Three days later, from his expansive view in one of Perth’s newest office buildings, Jordan rolled his executive chair back and watched the western sky grow pink behind a bank of mushroom-coloured clouds. It was the first time he’d taken a break since he’d started work at five a.m.

He’d sent his PA away and told her he wasn’t to be disturbed under any circumstances. Roma had asked did that include coffee? before his frown had answered for him and he hadn’t seen a glimpse or heard a peep from her since.

A knock sounded at his door and an unsmiling Roma poked her head in. She was an attractive forty-something brunette and Jordan valued her highly. ‘I’m leaving now,’ she said, and held a small packet out for him. ‘This came this afternoon, registered express post. Thought it might be important and I didn’t want to just leave it …’

Hell. Her tone and body language made him feel as if he’d kicked a puppy. ‘Thanks, Roma.’ When she didn’t come any closer, he crossed the room and took it from her. ‘Bad day.’ He forced a smile. ‘Guess I won’t win employer of the year.’

‘Maybe not this year.’ A tentative smile crossed her face. ‘I know this trip’s been stressful …’ She hesitated, as if waiting for an explanation. When none was forthcoming, she went on, ‘I’ll be going, then, if there’s nothing further you need. Or if you want to talk …’ She shook her head once. ‘Guess not.’

‘I’m fine, Roma. Thanks. See you tomorrow.’ If she hadn’t tendered her resignation, that was. Ah … ‘Roma?’

She turned, warily. ‘Yes?’

‘How’s Bernie?’ Roma’s husband was also an employee, a geologist up north in one of his mines.

Her brows lifted, puzzled. ‘Fine, last we spoke. He’s due home in a fortnight.’

Jordan nodded. ‘I find myself in the rather desperate position of being dateless for the Rapper One ball and—’

‘You want me to find you a
date
?
’
Her eyes widened and her voice rose a notch.

‘No, no. Not that. I know you and Bernie attended last year so I was wondering—rather,
hoping,
since Bernie can’t be here with you this year—that you’d accompany me instead.’

‘Oh.’ A long awkward pause. ‘Well. That sounds … nice.’

‘I’ll ring Bernie myself and check with him first to make sure he’s okay with it. I promise to work on my social skills in the meantime.’

Her smile warmed a few degrees and the Roma he knew shone through. ‘You do that and I’ll talk Bernie into letting me buy a new outfit.’

‘Great. Have a good evening. And I’ll put the word on Bernie about that new dress.’

He watched her leave, then turned the mystery packet over in his hands and read the sender’s address.
Chloe Montgomery
. His gut cramped and he traced her scrawled handwriting as if he could bring her to him by touch. Images of her shot back. Hair that reminded him of sunlight. Her smile that could light up his day—and his night. The last time he’d seen her, on her veranda and telling him it was over.

She hadn’t been smiling then.

He ripped through the packaging and withdrew a familiar box. ‘Dammit, Blondie,’ he muttered, already knowing what he’d find—the gold jewellery and the wedding ring.

And what the hell was he supposed to do with them? He ran his fingers along the slim gold chain, remembering how she’d looked that morning he’d clasped it around her neck. Understated elegance. The kind of woman who’d make any man proud to have her by his side, be it business or pleasure.
He’d never forget the way she’d supported him that day, her enthusiasm when he’d told her he’d won the old sheikh over.

And now she’d tossed his gift back in his face. By remote. Did she care so little about him that she wanted no reminders at all? Had what they’d shared meant nothing? Had she just been waiting for that second payment to go into her account—which he’d attended to first thing this morning—and now further contact was unnecessary? Unwanted?

His fingers tightened on the chain momentarily before he slipped it back in its box, flipped the lid shut and shoved it back in its post pack.

No loose ends
.

Her words echoed in his head and he refused to acknowledge the way his whole body tensed and constricted as his control over his emotions slipped a notch. He’d all but begged her to let him stay the night. He stalked grimly across the room. He never allowed emotion to gain the upper hand. Why waste time thinking about a woman who was probably already on her way out of the country?

On an oath, he shoved the packet in his wall safe, slammed the door shut, effectively putting a full stop at the end their relationship.
Done
. She had her clean break as she wanted.

And wasn’t that what he wanted too?

‘So you’re serious about leaving Melbourne?’

Dana’s voice penetrated Chloe’s thoughts and she realised she wasn’t in a silken tent in Dubai, she was in a commercial kitchen prepping for tomorrow morning’s breakfast function and had no idea what her boss had just said. She blinked away the daydream. ‘Pardon?’

‘Are you sure about moving on? You just started here and you said you like it.’

‘I’m sorry, circumstances have made it necessary for me
to move on.’ The possibility of running into Jordan was just too likely here working with Dana.

‘By “circumstances”, you mean Jordan.’

Chloe was slicing glacé cherries and her knife slipped.
‘Ouch.’

‘You okay?’

Chloe checked that no skin was broken and continued. ‘Yep.’

‘Can you check the inventory on my PC for me?’ Dana slid the last tray of cheese platters into the fridge and indicated her PC tablet on the nearby desk with her chin. ‘I want to make sure we didn’t forget to add those canapés tomorrow night’s client ordered at the last minute. And watch your fingers. I don’t want blood in my fruit compotes.’

‘Watching,’ Chloe murmured, and set her knife down, wiped her hands and crossed the room. At her touch the screen lit up and she found herself staring at a society news page.

Jordan.

For an instant her heart soared like a bird. then dived to her feet as if she’d been shot. Jordan, looking sexy as sin in his tux and escorting an attractive brunette to some charity event in Perth two nights ago.
His
charity. He’d never mentioned the function to Chloe.

Ridiculous to be jealous. She refused to think about the fact that it had been nearly two weeks since she’d told him it was over—obviously he’d wasted no time moving on to the next available woman.

No thanks to Dana for interfering.

She slapped the cover over the screen, and met her boss’s eyes. ‘Not fair, Dana.’ Her lips felt numb, her legs felt like water. Untying her apron, she headed for the door.

‘Chloe, it’s his PA. Roma West. And she’s very married.’

‘So?’ She stopped, told her trembling self it didn’t matter. ‘What’s your point?’

‘You’re in love with him. I wanted to be sure. And I do know what you were doing in Dubai.’

Not everything, Chloe hoped. She crushed the corners of her apron between her fingers and forced herself to walk back to her station. Calm, steady. ‘You’re way over the line. And you’re wrong. Why would I want to fall in love with an arrogant, domineering man like your friend Jordan Blackstone?’

‘Wanting has nothing to do with it. And do
not
pick up that knife.’ Swooping in, Dana finished slicing the last few cherries, popped them on the top of the little glass bowls then carried the tray to the fridge. ‘If he meant nothing to you, you wouldn’t have reacted that way.’

That jealous, vulnerable way
. Chloe swiped up a cloth and began wiping down surfaces. ‘So what if I am?’ Then she sucked in a breath because suddenly her secret was out and she hadn’t ever meant for it to be.

‘It’s okay,’ Dana said quietly. ‘I won’t say anything.’

‘Is it that obvious?’ God, no, please not.

‘The look on your face just then? And you came back to work even though Jordan had paid me enough to cover your wages for the next week. Believe me,
that’s
not normal behaviour.’

‘I like to work,’ Chloe told her. ‘It’s therapeutic.’

No matter how healthy her bank balance was—’Does
he
know? Did he say something?’

‘Not to me he hasn’t. And if he knows, would that be so bad?’

‘Absolutely.’ Oh, she’d be mortified. Her one-sided love was tragedy enough without letting the hapless victim in on it. A man who saw women as manipulative and money-hungry.

‘Why?’

She feigned indifference and rinsed out her cloth. ‘A man’s too complicated. I’m not in one place long enough …’

‘Sometimes you need to stop a while and listen to your heart.’

‘I … Maybe.’ And suddenly something inside her yearned for a piece of that slow-down time. Time to make a home of her own where she could paint the walls whatever colour she wanted. Where she could plant bulbs and watch them flower for more than one springtime.

Not some palatial English manor she’d never belong in, but her own place.

A place to put down roots like those spring bulbs.

And she could do that now, she realised. Ironic that it was Jordan who’d made it possible when he wasn’t going to be a part of it. Her heart plunged down the sinkhole with the water. She knew enough about him to know she loved him, but not enough, perhaps, to fully understand him. ‘That function he was at … his charity, isn’t it? It obviously means a great deal to him.’