Marriage in Name Only? (9 page)

What she saw in those sparkling blues made her whole body limp. What she heard in his voice stroked her insides with a silken glove. Desire, heat, arousal, anticipation. And she felt like a kitten, arching her head against that touch.

He nodded. ‘And I do the same to you.’

‘Yes …’ Her voice trailed away on a wisp of night breeze, to hang around the stars that seemed to be slowly spinning overhead like a kaleidoscope.

‘Don’t look away again.’ His command was low and firm. ‘I’ve been imagining your breasts since that first night you had them stuffed into that too-tight costume.’ Greedy eyes stroked her bodice. ‘Washed with moonshine, they’re
firm and luscious with nipples the colour of … a watermelon smoothie,’ he decided. ‘And they taste like pink champagne.’

Her blood fizzed, the sound almost shattering her eardrums. ‘Jordan … stop …’ She tried to look beyond him and focus on the inky splashed silver beach, the moonlit curve of the Arabian tower against a black velvet sky, and get herself in order, but the powerful lure of his voice dragged her back.

‘You don’t mean that,’ he murmured, low and sure and seductive. ‘Can you feel the pull of my tongue as I draw one nipple inside my mouth and tease it with my teeth while I tweak the other between my fingers?’

Her nipples cramped; pleasure in the pain as she arched her back, craving more. ‘Jordan … please …’

‘Since you asked so nicely …’ Humour and playfulness in his voice.

So powerful, so intense, Chloe swore she felt him swap breasts. Moist heat fanned her skin as if he were breathing against her décolletage and she couldn’t tell if the slippery abrading sensation was her clothing or her vivid imagination.

‘I’m taking their weight in my hands now and blowing on the wetness.’

His voice was dreamlike in the stillness of the evening, emptying her mind while he filled her with image upon image, sensation upon sensation. ‘I … I think that’s enough …’

He shook his head once, his eyes like blue lasers in the dimness. ‘I’m just getting started.’ He stroked her knees with those eyes and she wondered if he could see them tremble. ‘Relax and let me touch you. My hand’s gliding up over your thighs, an inch at a time, spinning out the anticipation. They’re a little flushed and feel incredible, like you bathed in rose petals and cherry liqueur. My fingers reach the edge of your panties. Can you feel the heat?’ His eyes drew her inside him. ‘I can.’

‘Jordan … I need … We need—’

‘Yes. I know.’ He smiled. ‘That control you had earlier has melted away like an ice-cream sundae under an Arabian sun, hasn’t it?’ It wasn’t a question.

No. Yes …
She rolled her lips together as moisture pooled between her legs, ready for him. So ready …

‘You sigh and shift your legs farther apart and my thumb finds you slick and wet and hot. Do you feel hot, Blondie?’

Her eyelids fluttered down as she shifted on the recliner. ‘Yes …’

‘Here? Where I’m letting the tips of my fingers glide? Or here, where my mouth is lapping at your neck. Or maybe—’

‘Hot,’ she moaned. ‘Everywhere.’

‘That ripping sound is me tearing that scrap of silk from your hips, dragging it out of the way so I can slide one finger inside you. One’s not enough for you, is it? You want more. Spread your legs wider—I want to see all of you.’

Her eyes snapped open and met his and just like that she complied, her long skirt dipping into the V between her thighs. ‘See all of me,’ she murmured. ‘Touch me.’ Her voice lowered to a husky whisper and she tossed caution to the wind. ‘Taste me.’

His eyes turned black, a muscle jumped in his cheek and his knuckles turned white on the edge of the recliner. ‘Y—’

His mobile ringtone shattered the fantasy. Chloe jumped like a guilty thirteen-year-old caught behind the bike shed with the school’s bad boy. For a moment neither moved, nor spoke, staring at each other while the beat of some rap tune jiggled and vibrated in his trouser pocket.

She bit her lips together.
Don’t answer it
.

He pulled the offending object out, glanced at the screen then back to Chloe, the spark in his eyes doused but not extinguished. ‘I have to answer this.’ He rose, explaining, ‘It’s my PA,’ and already walking away into the nearby shadows. ‘Roma. What’s the problem?’

He halted at some potted tropical plants. Chloe couldn’t hear the words but he spoke in short, sharp sentences, his movements jerky and impatient, indicating a problem, possibly urgent.

Her whole body wailed in protest as she threw a glance up at the night sky. As if she didn’t have an urgent problem herself—one that needed his immediate and undivided attention.

A breeze blew off the water, cooling her flushed skin, and she counted to ten. It was enough to clear the sensual fog that had enshrouded her, and she rubbed her upper arms with brisk movements. She needed to think, which wasn’t easy when her brain cells were melting from an overload of X-rated images.

She turned away from the sight of the man responsible and watched the water lap against the sand.
Pull yourself together, Chloe Montgomery. Take back that control you were so proud of and walk away. Now
.

Because obviously the social part of the evening was over and it was just as well because another moment and she’d have been begging him to take her to their room and finish what he’d started. Worse, he knew it.

She’d been about to allow a man to override her decisions. Again. It was still a raw gash; how easily Markos had persuaded her into bed that night and to part with what little money she’d had. How he’d played her body like a piano while convincing her that he knew the financial markets and could triple her money in a week.
Trust me, Chloe
.

‘Chloe.’

She swivelled on one heel, her arms across her chest. She didn’t dare look directly at the gorgeous man in front of her who was her
business
partner. ‘I’m heading up to the room now,’ she clipped. ‘Don’t try anything because I’ve already made it clear I will not compromise our business relationship.
You
may be able to switch—’

‘That was a call from Perth.’ The tension in his voice drew her attention as he walked towards her. ‘There’s a problem at one of the mines.’

‘O
H, NO
.’ T
HEIR
fantasy vanished like moon dust down a black hole. A mine emergency could change everything they’d come here to do. ‘Is it serious?’

‘No one seems to know yet.’

‘Is there anything I can do? Would you like me to wait with you till you find out?’

He was too busy on his mobile to look at her, the screen casting a pale glow across the grim slash of his mouth. ‘Not your problem, Chloe. Go on up to the room.’

‘But I … You might …’ She trailed off. The man was in no need of her assistance. The tone, the body language clearly told her he didn’t want her here. ‘If you change your mind …’

He glanced her way as if suddenly remembering he had a dinner companion. A wife. ‘I’ll escort you up, then I have to make some calls, find out what the hell’s going on. I’ll do that down here or in the lobby.’

‘Please …’ Chloe gave a half-laugh ‘… I can find my own way.’

‘I said I’ll see you up.’

‘
No
. I’d prefer you didn’t.’ She touched his arm lightly. ‘Stay and make your calls. I’m perfectly safe and you’re busy.’ She stepped away. ‘Just remember I’m here if you need someone.’

‘Right …’

She didn’t exist to him and she turned away, pointed herself in the direction of the hotel and didn’t look back. She didn’t know why he’d opted not to avail himself of the luxurious office in their suite to make his calls. After what had just happened between them, perhaps he needed space and privacy to get on with the job. No distractions. Perhaps he thought
she
did.

Or perhaps he was more like her than she’d imagined—used to doing everything on his own. Except that he did so by choice whereas she’d learned through necessity.

Some instinct whispered that maybe it hadn’t always been his choice either, and as soon as she reached their suite she opened her laptop and logged on to the internet. She’d seen something so sad, so haunted in his eyes when they’d spoken of family. Up till now, she’d refrained from learning more about the man than was necessary for the job requirement, but his expression earlier this evening had aroused her curiosity.

She found an article on his charity. Rapper One was a fund he’d set up that took troubled teenage boys from broken homes and situations of neglect into the bush for some team-building and adventure every six months. He didn’t stop at fund-raising. He hired the services of counsellors and psychologists and mentored these kids personally, teaching them how to pan for gold while building trust and self-esteem amongst the group.

There was so much more she wanted to know, but tonight was about being here for him if there was bad news and he needed someone to talk to. She closed the computer and prepared to wait up.

Jordan dragged off his tie and swiped a hand over his hair, willing his phone to ring, waiting for word and feeling so helpless. What the hell was happening on the other side of the world? If he didn’t hear something soon, he—
they
—would be
on tomorrow’s first flight to Australia. He needed to be there; his mine, his responsibility. Was it some safety issue he’d not addressed? Some management concern he’d overlooked?

At the first flicker of life, Jordan stabbed the answer button, barked, ‘What’s going on?’ then listened as relief poured through him. Seemed there wasn’t a problem after all. It had been a misunderstanding. A couple of miners they’d thought missing underground had turned up safe and well. Very sorry to have troubled him, to have worried him.
Enjoy the rest of your trip
.

He swore long and hard as he disconnected—even though it was the best outcome possible—and headed to one of the empty tables, ordered a double Scotch, no ice, from the waiter who appeared at his side.

He glared at the recliner chairs where he’d last seen Chloe and his jaw tightened. He’d almost chosen not to answer his phone because he’d been too focused on the red-hot blonde all but coming apart in front of him. He’d been tempted to put a woman before his work. The repercussions of that choice echoed with eerie familiarity.

Eight years ago he’d allowed a woman he barely knew to persuade him to ‘stay a little longer’. He’d missed his flight and his father had died that day. He’d put personal desires before what was important in his life.

And then there’d been Lynette. He’d been willing to put her first without question until he’d learned she’d been using his feelings for her all along.

The waiter placed his crystal tumbler on the table. Jordan thanked him and raised it to eye-level.
The colour of Chloe’s eyes
—ah, yes, she’d made damn sure he’d never forget her, with that whisky gaze of hers, hadn’t she? He downed the contents in one go, needing its full-bodied burn as it slid down his throat.

Women manipulated.

But tonight, he had to admit that generalisation wasn’t fair. This evening with Chloe, he’d been the one doing the manipulating. He’d known precisely what he was doing and where it was leading.

Then when his phone had rung with such incredibly bad timing, had she told him to ignore it like some women he knew would? No,
he’d
been the one telling himself to ignore it. When he’d told her the problem, he’d seen genuine concern and caring in her eyes. She’d put his problems before her own needs or any promise of mutually satisfying pleasure.

And he’d almost been tempted to share the uncertainty, to ask her to wait with him for news, good or bad. The way a husband would with his wife. But he never involved the women he dated in his business concerns. His father was a not-so-shining example of what could happen if you did.

She wasn’t a date
.

Half an hour later he let himself into their suite and walked straight to the bedroom. Chloe wasn’t there but she’d put every available cushion down the centre of the bed. A half-grin hooked the corner of his mouth. If he wanted, he could have her lush little body arching wantonly—and willingly—beneath him in a matter of moments, cushions or no. But it was a symbolic action and he’d respect her decision. He wouldn’t even try to change her mind.

Not tonight anyway.

From the corner of his eye he saw movement in the semi-dimness of the adjacent room. Chloe was standing at the window and staring out at the moonlit sea, framed by the structure’s white lattice and looking little-girl lost in a too-big sweatshirt that might have been red once but was now a sad pink flecked with grey. ‘Chloe.’

She whirled around, anxiety etched on her face, fatigue smudges beneath her eyes. ‘What happened? Have you heard?
Is everything okay?’ She rapid-fired questions at him as she crossed the gold-brocade-edged carpet towards him.

‘Everything’s fine. There was no emergency after all.’

She huffed out a breath. ‘Well, why the heck didn’t they get their facts straight before calling you and worrying you like that when you’re so far away? I hope you gave them a piece of your mind.’

Her indignation on his behalf made him smile. ‘I expect them to keep me informed with up-to-date info. Maybe they just didn’t like the idea of me over here enjoying myself.’ The lines bracketing her mouth didn’t relax and his smile faded almost before it began. ‘I thought you’d be asleep by now.’

Her eyes flashed, concern shifting to annoyance. ‘You thought wrong. Did you assume I’d just go to sleep and think nothing of your emergency?’ She shoved her hands into her hair, making it stand up like a wild halo. ‘Of course I waited up. You wouldn’t let me wait with you but that didn’t stop me from worrying right along with you anyway.’

He frowned. His assumptions had been way off, and something vaguely disquieting skittered down his spine. He fiddled with his shirt cuffs, slid the buttons free. ‘I didn’t expect you to do that. I
don’t
expect you to do that.’

‘Isn’t that what a good wife would do?’ she demanded, a fire in her eyes that twisted something inside him. ‘Wouldn’t she be there to support her husband anyway she can?’

‘I didn’t pay you to be involved in my business problems, Chloe.’

Rather than soothe that fire, it inflamed. ‘Pay me,’ she repeated, tersely. ‘You
paid
me to be your wife. I don’t know why but you make it sound cheap. You make this whole arrangement sound cheap.’ She flicked her hand and her ten-thousand-dollar wedding ring glinted in the half-light.

He raised a brow but not his voice. ‘That’s not my intention since this
whole arrangement’s
costing me a great deal
of money.’
Keep emotion out of it; stick to the facts
. ‘You’re tired, Chloe. Go to bed.’

‘I intend to.’ She walked past him then stopped and met his gaze full on. ‘For the record, I wasn’t worried because you were paying me to be worried. I happen to care.’

Her words struck him like a velvet fist mid-chest. He started unbuttoning his shirt. ‘That’s not necessary,’ he bit out.
Care
was not a part of their deal.

‘So sue me for breach of contract,’ she tossed back, and climbed into bed.

Hell. He didn’t answer because for once in his life he didn’t know how to respond. He suspected that any further conversation at this point wouldn’t end well, and he could allow nothing to jeopardise their agreement.

He told himself her disposition would perk up with tomorrow’s getaway, which he’d surprise her with over breakfast. And he’d do what he knew how to do best. She’d return to Dubai refreshed and satisfied, her cheeks bright with a lover’s glow, her eyes sparkling.

And the deal with the Dubai gold buyer would be in the bag.

Chloe dragged the heaven-soft quilt over her shoulders and lay stiff and tense and facing away from Jordan’s side of the bed. Clearly, he didn’t want her involved in his personal life. She’d been
paid
to be his wife. But not a wife who mattered in the great scheme of things. Not a wife who could be a support if he’d let her.

Not even a friend or someone to confide in.

She closed her eyes. But her ears were working fine. Too fine. She heard the shoosh of fabric shifting over all that golden skin as he removed his shirt, the clink of his belt buckle, the
zzzz
of a zip as he shucked off his trousers …

Was he still wearing underwear or was he going to get into
bed naked? She’d lay bets on the latter because that was the type of man he was—arrogant and cocky where women were concerned. Especially the women sharing his bed.

If she wanted, she could roll over and see if the reality lived up to her vivid imagination, and—no doubt in her mind—he was counting on her to do just that. She squeezed her eyes tighter and wished she’d thought to bring earplugs because he sounded as if he was scratching … somewhere. She did
not
want to know.

There was a slight disturbance in the air as he slid beneath the quilt but the mattress remained as still as a lake at sunset, and almost as wide. With the Great Dividing Range between.

She’d half expected him to sweet-talk her into finishing what they’d started but she didn’t hear so much as a murmur. Was he waiting for her to make the move?
It’ll be you inviting me
. His words echoed in her head.

Her body was still wide awake and tingling and he hadn’t laid a hand on her. Imagine what the real deal would be like … The residual heat between her thighs intensified once more and spread to every yearning and unfulfilled place he’d awoken with nothing more than his voice and eyes.

She pressed her lips together to stifle a moan and forced her restless legs to remain still. She only had to slide across the silky lake, climb over the mountain range and she could live the fantasy for real.

She feared it was only a matter of time before Jordan’s charisma and smooth talking overcame her resistance. And worse, much worse, it wasn’t only his charm that she was falling for, it was the man. He’d been fun today, a great sightseeing companion, good-humoured and patient while she’d trawled the fashion boutiques. He was also a man who took responsibility seriously, cared for his staff and troubled teens.

But it would be a dangerous mistake to let him close. So she would fight him and his charms with every ounce of will power she had.

When Jordan surfaced from a disturbed sleep interrupted by erotic dreams, Chloe’s side of the bed was empty. Which was just as well, he decided, all things considered. He could smell her fresh-from-the-shower scent overlaid with the equally enticing aroma of a full English breakfast.

Pulling his jeans on over his boxers—not an easy task in his state—he followed his nose in search of the coffee pot. He found Chloe sitting at the breakfast table flicking through sightseeing brochures. She’d tied her hair back and he approved the conservative elbow-sleeved navy dress that met Dubai’s fashion etiquette. ‘Good morning.’

She looked up, her eyes instantly drawn to his chest, then quickly looked back to her reading material. ‘Good morning.’ She waved a hand at the table and said, ‘I didn’t know what you liked so I ordered everything.’

‘Everything.’ His eyes roamed over the sea of silver domes on the table and he had to grin. It appeared she was serious.

‘The staff were waiting to serve you but I sent them away … I didn’t know what time you’d be getting up.’

He stepped up to the table. ‘And you wanted to make sure you wouldn’t still be in bed when I did.’

Bingo. Chloe felt the blush explode into her cheeks. She lowered her head farther and reached for another pamphlet. ‘I … I’m an early riser.’

‘So am I,’ he murmured, all lazy innuendo. The tips of her ears burned like a furnace, and she felt him lean in so that his lips grazed one to whisper, ‘Why didn’t you wake me?’

Honey over sand. Her breath caught, her pulse blipped. That sleep-husky voice was a reminder of last night and how she’d come so close to losing control, and in the glaring light
of day she felt the flames of embarrassment all the way to her toes.

She gritted her teeth and decided a women’s-only spa session was on this morning’s agenda. Maybe she could make it last all day. ‘We both know the reason for that.’

‘I wonder if it’ll still hold true for tomorrow?’ Thankfully, he moved away, lifting domes and piling a plate with bacon and eggs. ‘You’ve eaten, then.’