The Tycoon's Red Hot Marriage Merger (2 page)

“You’re very prepared.” He locked eyes with her, his fingers drumming across the file. “I like that in a woman.”

The air between them sizzled and her cheeks heated. “This is business, Marco.”

He arched his brow. “Explain this arrangement.”

His tantalizing aroma of man and musk spiraled inside her senses, waking up every single one of her dormant hormones. Hormones which had no right interfering with what should be a clear cut negotiation. One which shouldn’t have even been necessary.

Seven days ago Cassandra had believed she had been engaged to the man of her dreams, but her fiancé Peter had been a pawn in her father’s scheme to save Nelson Industries. And she’d discovered the hard way that happily-ever-after endings didn’t exist.

At least not for her.

But if she could convince him to agree to this marriage, both she and Marco would benefit from the temporary arrangement. “You’ll gain your legitimate re-entry into the regatta world by marrying me. After a short time, once you’re established in the network, we’ll annul the marriage.” After all, she had no intention of sleeping with him. The first time she made love, it would be with the right man.

Marco Delgado, with his rugged good looks and commanding masculine presence, was not that man. Still, she hadn’t anticipated the strength of her attraction. Though years ago she’d developed a typical crush on the handsome Argentinian man when she had been a teenager. During the days before the ill-fated regatta, she’d drooled over his physical and earthy Latin sensuality along with every other young woman at her family’s yacht club. Even then, in her innocence, she had known better than to believe she’d attract Marco.

His mouth twisted sardonically while he contemplated her proposal, making her feel like a specimen in a Petrie dish. “Your father despises me. So does your mother,” he said. “They won’t accept this marriage.”

A band of regret joined the guilt tightening around her lungs. In the days following Marco’s boat crashing into the Nelson team, she had been too numb with grief to comprehend what had happened. Months later, after recalibrating the ship’s onboard computer data, had she discovered her Justin’s reversed numerical input even though she had gone over the correct calculations repeatedly with him. She had been sure he’d memorized the sequences. But her brother had panicked during the race, which had led to Justin forgetting everything she had taught him.

And that grievous error had tipped the sail into the ocean. The Nelson team’s racer had upturned, and started to capsize. Delgado’s team didn’t have space to maneuver. The resulting crash had cost two lives, countless injuries, and the thin white scar on Marco’s cheek.

She still remembered the desperation in Justin’s eyes when she lost her hold on him and he slipped into the ocean. Even being on board to insure the outcome, she had failed. Cassandra swallowed hard. “My father will come around when you infuse our company with the necessary funds to save it, and my mother does whatever he wants,” she said. “You’ll regain entry into the regatta yacht racing world you want with his support.” Plus, she’d save her current catamaran design without dishonoring her brother’s memory, or revealing his disability.

“Your parents blamed me for crashing into your team’s boat.”

“They were overwhelmed with sorrow.”

Her father loathed Marco for a crime he hadn’t committed and couldn’t have avoided. But Cassandra had discovered the information about her brother’s screw up too late to exonerate Marco. He parents had been locked in grief, and she hadn’t wanted to ruin their memories about her older brother. So she remained silent about her findings.

Besides, she blamed herself. She wanted to produce another winning Nelson ship, and she’d let her brother convince her to man the onboard computer in spite of her misgivings. That bad decision had killed her brother and Marco’s father. Not intentionally. But her responsibility, her guilt, consumed her on a daily basis.

Marco tilted his head and observed her through hooded eyes. “So there’s no one else you can trade your name for in return for an investment?”

“No.”

When she’d discovered her fiancé’s infidelity and broke their engagement, her father had been outraged. Not by her ex’s betrayal, but by Cassandra’s refusal to go through with the wedding. Until a week ago, she had no idea that her family’s company was in financial jeopardy. Nor had she known that her father had bartered her to the highest bidder without filling her in on the details.

“I’ve got nowhere else to turn,” she replied quietly.

Who better to save her future than the man sitting across from her? She pushed her glasses further up her nose, trying to hide her fear behind the over-sized geek chic frames. “Read over the terms, Marco.” She nudged the paperwork closer to his side of the desk. “We can get on with this fake marriage until the right time comes to end it.”

“I’m not interested in faking anything,” Marco said. “Not when I can have the real thing any time I want with whomever I want.”

A sharp pain cut into her sternum. Obviously her proposal was being rejected.
She
was rejected—even in an above board, straight forward, no strings proposal.

Breathe, Cassandra. Just breathe.
“I’m sure after you think about it, you’ll change your mind and when you do, here’s my contact information.” She stood on shaky legs, pulled her business card from her bag and tossed it on the table. Then she settled her purse carefully over her shoulders, pretending nonchalance. She couldn’t let him see how desperately she needed him to accept her crazy suggestion.

Tears pricked behind her eyes while she walked away from the last chance she had to redeem herself. Cassandra blinked them back. Now was not the time to cry.

She heard the scrape of metal against tile. The hairs on the back of her neck lifted. “I’d like to renegotiate the terms of the deal,” Marco said, placing a broad hand on her shoulder to stop her progress.

An intense sizzling sensation traveled into her skin and zoomed through her body. A resounding chorus of hormones, very female and very jubilant, rushed into all her erogenous zones.

The nightclub’s pulsating energy outside the office faded away. Cassandra turned, mesmerized and lost to the energy blazing within her, to face him. “What else can I offer you?” she asked. “I have my name. Nothing more.” At least nothing that she wanted to yield as part of an unholy alliance.

His mouth lifted at one corner, giving him a devilish look. “You have something I want very much.”

Her legs trembled. Anxiety joined her body’s hallelujah chorus while his emerald eyes held her gaze. “What are you talking about?” she asked after a moment’s hesitation.

“To start with, I want to take you out on the dance floor to see if you are capable of real passion,” he said.

“If I marry you, I expect more than a sexless arrangement.”

Crap and double crap. This was so not going the way she had intended. “What do you mean?”

“I expect a lifelong commitment—all of it—including having you in my bed, Cassandra.”

The air snapped between them. Air whooshed through her ears, making her lightheaded. Shock and disbelief pumped through Cassandra’s veins. In all her midnight calculations and planning for this proposal, she’d never considered the possibility of Marco wanting to stay married, let alone have sex.

She twisted her purse strap. “You can’t want me that way.” No one had before. Why would this spectacular specimen of a man be any different?

“You’d be surprised about what I want,” he said, closing the distance between them.

His breath whispered across her skin. Goosebumps prickled along her nape and down her arms. She clutched her bag to her chest, afraid and yet strangely tantalized by his suggestive tone. “But a lifetime? Why throw that chance away for someone you don’t love?” she asked. “A temporary marriage is the best option.”

“Love is overrated.
If
we marry, I won’t let you back out. Otherwise I’ll be a pariah again.” He drew his finger down her neck, all the way down her arm, and curled it around her bag’s straps. “Are you willing to trade your future—your entire life—to save your family’s company?”

His brief touch turned all her muscles into jelly. A trembling sensation skittered along her spine and warred with her mind’s outrage. “I want what is best for my family.” She’d probably fail his test—the dance—and that would be the end of her insane idea, but she had no other choice. “But I don’t know how to dance.”

Or how to have sex. But she kept that tidbit to herself.

He loosened his hold on her purse, lifted it from her shaking hands, and placed it on the desk. “With me you’ll learn,” he said.

There was more implied in his words than lessons in dancing. Somehow she knew he’d be an expert on the dance floor. And in bed. The thought sent another shiver of anticipation through her.

“Perhaps we could start with a private lesson in your office.” Because she so didn’t want to make a public spectacle of herself.

“Not enough room,” Marco said.

She glanced around the office space. Though she hated to admit it, Marco was right. “Fair enough. Let’s go,” she said with a confidence she didn’t feel one bit.

“Buenos,”
Marcos said, taking her hand.

While he led her into the club’s noisy interior, Cassandra prayed her klutziness wouldn’t sink the deal. They moved down the spiral stairs and he ushered her onto the dance floor. A sexy pop song pumped through multiple speakers hanging from the rafters in the nightclub. Couples moved around them, weaving between each other, and grinding their bodies together in seductive motions.

Suddenly Cassandra’s feet turned to stone. Despite Marco’s strength and the way he ushered her onto the floor, she didn’t want to make a fool of herself in front of all these people.

Or in front of him.

She didn’t fit into this world. Her business suit’s strict lines warred with the barely there mini skirts and low cut, colorful dresses. The women’s long hair and curls mocked Cassandra’s tight ponytail. And their high-heeled stilettos sang loser, loser, loser to her plain Jane black pumps.

Would they—he—laugh if she stumbled?

Everything about her was all wrong for this nightclub. A place that oozed sensuality and sex and sizzle. Exactly like the man next to her.

Before she could break their contact and race out of the building, Marco folded her into his strong body, bringing her into his powerful chest. “Don’t be afraid,
Bella
.” He manipulated her into a double turn and eased her into the crowd with grace. “Trust me. Trust the music. Most of all, trust yourself.”

His melodic voice sounded like rich dulce de leche and melted caramel. Every nuance of his lightly accented words warmed her and loosened her rigid muscles. He held her waist, and looked into her eyes while swirling seductively. Her blood flowed like hot honey through her veins. He’d called her
Bella
. No one had ever called her pretty before. She was the brain, never the beauty.

But in Marco’s arms, she came alive. His muscular thighs shifted subtly between hers and the placement of his hands on her hips guided her through the song’s rhythmic beats. Electricity skimmed along her nerves and flashed heat into every erogenous zone she possessed. She felt like she’d been made to be with him, melding into Marco’s body with every practiced movement he executed. In spite of the crowd, everyone else ceased to exist. There was only Marco and the throbbing music that connected them in a primal rhythm.

“You’re a fast study,” he said, raising her right hand high and spinning her until her back was pressed against the length of his athletic body.

“I did get a top score on my college entrance exams,” she said. “Obviously I can be taught.”

He moved his hands lower, caressing the swell of her hips, intimately swiveling his in a slow and seductive pattern. “Clearly you’re a genius,” he murmured.

She felt the ridge of his arousal. And her body responded like a straight A student. A tantalizing and overwhelming rush of heat flowed through her, pooling between her thighs and filling her breasts.

He wanted her.

Her!

Marco spun her within the circle of his embrace until she was toe-to-toe with him, moving in tandem with his commanding physical possession, increasing their speed to keep pace with the music’s rhythm. Breathless, near panting, she focused on his chest to resist doing something wicked. She couldn’t understand how he made her feel so wanton. She had to remember this was a professional transaction, nothing more.

His white shirt, open at the collar, revealed a silver medallion fastened on large metal links. It flicked shards of light and contrasted sexily against his bronzed skin. He raced his hands over her back, across the indent of her waist, then crested over the swell of her breast ever so slightly and discretely. She felt the tug of his hand on her ponytail, the release of her tightly bound hair, and his fingers stroking through the strands.

“I’ve wanted to do this from the minute you stepped into my office.” His breath caressed her ear, heating her. “So soft and so long. I want to run my fingers through it.”

If she agreed to his surprising terms, he would. The night of their wedding. A frisson of anticipation twisted low in her belly. She was consumed with desire, overwhelmed with a wanting she’d never known. Would she be able to handle him? All of him? Cassandra curled her fingers in his chestnut hair, a scandalously long length for a businessman of his stature. But then Marco could get away with his fierce, primitive style. He kept his hair wilder than convention allowed, while wearing expensive Armani suits that currently hugged his broad shoulders to perfection.

He was so handsome, and so adept at playing her. That made her feel far sexier than she could ever expect. Part of Cassandra wanted to cave to his sensual demands, release her awakening inner vixen.

Cassandra inhaled a long breath and released the air from her lungs very slowly. She struggled to regain her control, to find her footing in the primary reason for being here. He’d been the dark avenger on paper, but here on the dance floor he was so much more.