The Boss's Convenient Bride

‘He’ll sign up with us.’ Claire watched the other vehicles move by, the traffic lights ahead change from red to green. She was trying hard to keep her racing thoughts under control, to stop herself from sliding back into the emotional basket weaving that had been going on since he proposed.

In out, in out, round and round and round, in an unending whirl. It wasn’t easy to control it, but she couldn’t let him see how truly rattled she was. Later, when she was alone, she could indulge in a nice, private meltdown.

‘We’ve got the best security systems in Australia,’ she said now. ‘Possibly in the whole Southern Hemisphere. Once he’s tried them, he’ll see that, and move all his property over to us.’

The city teemed, as usual. And this discussion with Nicholas was predictable, too. It showed him at his most businesslike and unemotional. The familiarity should have helped her to relax, but she was beyond that at the moment.

For Nicholas might have been mouthing business matters, but any time he looked at her his eyes were full of a powerful sensual heat that left her panting. When she had given the necessary agreement to his marriage proposal, she hadn’t considered how much he might physically want her, or that he would be totally unafraid to show it. Nor how deeply that open wanting would affect her.

Her senses responded. That was bad.

Her emotions responded. That was far worse. Hope kept trying to well up in her heart, and she kept having to squash it down again.

His emotions weren’t involved. She needed to remember that.

Endeavouring to ignore her reaction to the fire in his eyes, she forced herself to focus on the discussion. ‘If Mr Forrester is smart enough to build a business empire, surely he’s smart enough to appreciate the kind of technology Monroe’s has on offer.’

‘I appreciate your confidence in our ability, both to produce and to impress.’ His voice held a slight smile. ‘Ah.’ He slotted the car into a parking space. ‘Only a short walk away.’

‘Does everything always fall into place for you?’ She covered the wistful question with a flippant smile, not wanting him to guess how she envied the apparent smoothness of his life, while hers had been in a mess even before this day started. It was far worse now, and, like Wall Street’s Black Thursday, was only going to go downhill from this point.

Pessimistic, aren’t you?

Huh. Actually, she wasn’t being pessimistic. For once she was doing just as Nicholas would like, and assessing the situation with her rational mind. Which told her she was in up to her neck and sinking.

‘You know, I think I’ll enjoy being a married man.’ He tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow and moved into the crowd on the footpath. ‘It really will be a pleasure to get that side of my life settled. Now that I’ve taken the step, I don’t know why I didn’t do something about it ages ago.’

Claire’s rational side was quickly elbowed aside by a very personal affront. Ages ago? As in, before he’d even met her?

It’s all clinical to him. Given the circumstances, you should be grateful that’s the way he feels about it.

She didn’t feel grateful. She felt offended. Thoroughly hurt that he might have chosen some other woman and been just as happy about it.

You’re not really marrying him, remember? It’s all moot.

And this was exactly why she was going to end up in therapy.

Her fingers clenched around his forearm.

His muscles tensed in response, and that set the whole see-saw reaction in motion again. Desire, counter-desire. Emotional thrust, logical parry. She resisted the urge to tip her head back and yowl.

‘I’m glad you’re happy with your plans.’ She murmured it in the blandest tone she could manage, and then pointed to a shopfront ahead of them, determined to distract herself. ‘Have you ever been to Danny’s Bakehouse? They serve a Jamaican Cheesecake Log that’s to die for.’

And I could do with a slice right now. Or two. Or three. Scoffing cheesecake might not alter this situation, but it would suffuse it with a cheesecake-coated glow. That would surely be something positive?

‘I haven’t been there.’ Nicholas turned his head to glance at the shop, and in that moment someone bumped her in the crush, jostling her against her boss’s side.

An uneasy slither of tension climbed through her. She looked up, right into the gaze of the one person in the world she didn’t want to see.

‘Oops. Have to be careful these days.’ He wore an ill-fitting suit over a slight paunch of a stomach. His balding head of hair was slicked back with something greasy. He ran a small photocopier repair business—and he was Sophie’s blackmailer.

Gordon Haynes was a nondescript-looking man. He looked unthreatening. But when Claire searched his eyes, there was something dark and possibly unbalanced there that made her skin crawl.

This had to be a chance meeting. One that he was taking advantage of, but had not planned. She lifted her chin and stared him in those chilling eyes, refusing to let him rattle her. After the barest moment, when their gazes locked, he disappeared into the depths of the passing crowd and Claire breathed again.

‘Are you all right?’ Nicholas searched her face with his gaze. ‘Did someone bump you?’

‘I’m fine.’ She squared her shoulders and forced the encounter from her mind. ‘It was nothing.’

They made their way to the restaurant without further incident, and, once inside, quickly located the other couple and moved to join them.

‘I should have asked for a potted history.’ Claire’s fingers tightened around her bag. ‘Subjects I could raise with the wife, for starters.’

Nicholas’s proposal had thrown her so far out of reality that she hadn’t even considered how she would contribute to this lunch. She did now, and gave herself another opportunity to develop an ulcer.

‘She lives for the marina, loves shopping and sailing.’ Nicholas’s response was calm. ‘Don’t worry about it. I’m sure you’ll find something to talk about.’

‘I’m just a little on edge right now.’ The understatement made her feel slightly hysterical. She tried to maintain her poise as his hand moved to the small of her back to guide her through the maze of tables. It wasn’t easy.

A little on edge? Try a lot!

They had always maintained a strict, impersonal relationship. Now all she seemed to want was his touch. His nearness. His heart, soul, and all the family secrets. He was giving her the touch and the nearness part, and was upsetting her equilibrium in the process.

And she should have been running a mile in the other direction. Doing her best not to even think about that side of things while she worked out just how she was going to get out of this crazy situation in one piece.

What if he wanted them to be intimate before the actual marriage? Feeling the way she did about him, how would she hold back? The more she thought about things, the more complications just seemed to keep coming.

‘Naomi, Jack—may I introduce my assistant?’

In response to Nicholas’s introductions, Claire nodded her hellos to the couple already seated at the restaurant table. ‘Mrs Forrester, Mr Forrester.’

Nicholas held her chair. His hand brushed her nape as he stepped away to take his own seat. A mesmerising touch. She shivered, hot and cold at once. That’s right, Claire. You’re doing a great job of staying calm and unruffled.

‘I hope you enjoyed smooth sailing?’ Although Nicholas had addressed his comment to the other couple, and seemed absorbed in them, Claire sensed his continued awareness of her.

‘A pleasant enough trip.’ Jack Forrester had shrewd blue eyes set in a sun-weathered face, and looked to be somewhere in his early fifties. He winked at Claire in a jovial manner, but she sensed the sharpness of a keen mind behind the cheery façade. ‘We like to take the opportunity to sail whenever we can.’

Claire wouldn’t get out on the open sea for anything. She even avoided the harbour ferry whenever possible, sometimes at great inconvenience to herself. But she smiled dutifully back, determined not to do anything that might put this man off now that she had managed to stir an ember or two of work-related zeal back to life in herself.

The meal passed well enough, but Claire never lost her awareness of Nicholas, or of the numerous touches he managed to bestow on her.

Seriously. What if he wanted to make love on the office floor next? What would she do then?

Fall apart in his arms, most likely.

Maybe an affair wouldn’t be so bad.

And maybe that’s the stupidest thought you’ve ever had. You’re holding out for love, remember? An emotion Nicholas doesn’t even pretend to want to embrace.

Try telling her hormones that right at this moment. Try telling her heart. She groaned.

‘Claire?’

At Nicholas’s prompt, she turned. She hoped he hadn’t read her lascivious thoughts. ‘I’m sorry. What did you say?’

‘Dessert has arrived.’ He gestured towards the cart. ‘Can I tempt you into something?’

Like bed, with a serving of loving kindness on the side?

Drat it, Claire. You have to stop thinking that way. Either way!

She ground her teeth. The other couple had already made their selections. A baked soufflé topped with a berry sauce for the husband, and a bowl of fruit salad for the wife. So innocuous. Why, then, did Claire find herself picturing Nicholas naked, nibbling soufflé and fruit salad from her navel?

I’ll never see those foods in the same way again.

‘The mixed sorbet,’ she declared, and sucked in a shuddering breath.

Nicholas chose a platter of cheese and crackers, and to her great relief they settled to further discussion. She even managed to feel half in control of herself—until they reached the convivial stage and Nicholas draped his arm across her shoulders in casual possession.

Casual? Ha. One look at his face told her his thoughts exactly. She could no longer pretend any doubt in the matter. This was nothing casual, but all possession. His of her!

He ought to be careful. Next thing he knew, it would be her tossing him down on the office carpet so she could have her way with him.

There was something vividly erotic about a man playing games with the ends of one’s hair, she found. And who was to say that a man couldn’t be in lust first and then fall in love later?

‘Would you pass me the water?’ The request emerged as a strangled croak.

‘Certainly.’ He released her to reach for the carafe.

Great. She could breathe again. But then he leaned so close to her while he refilled her glass that she could smell the scent of his skin, could count the individual lashes that graced those enigmatic hazel eyes. Could feel the sensual tension emanating from him.

‘Thank you,’ she ground out.

He raised his eyebrows. ‘You’re welcome.’

She turned hastily away from him. ‘Mr Forrester—Jack. How did you and Naomi build up your amazing empire? You’ve achieved incredible things with your properties and investments.’

Jack flirted a little with her as he answered, a born charmer, but Claire didn’t think there was anything in it really. She smiled in a general sort of way, and encouraged him to elaborate about his various business ventures.

‘Hard work, my dear.’ Jack winked again, and leaned forward across the table as though to dispense a particularly juicy secret. ‘If a man sets his mind to it, he can get pretty much whatever it is he wants in this life.’

‘Not everything.’ Nicholas’s hand closed over Claire’s shoulder in an almost painful grip. ‘Some things are off limits.’

For the tiniest moment Forrester’s gaze rested with shrewd, assessing sharpness on Nicholas. Then he laughed and toasted him with his coffee.

Naomi Forrester looked on in some bemusement. As well she might. Nicholas was acting like a possessive—well, boss-cum-fiancé. And Claire, although she definitely shouldn’t have, liked it. She stifled a second groan.

The conversation wound up quickly after that, and they left the restaurant soon after.

Once clear of the building, Claire turned to Nicholas. ‘Did we impress him? I couldn’t tell.’

‘We’ve made one more step with Forrester. For today, that’s enough.’ Nicholas settled Claire into the car and began the trip that would take them through the harbour tunnel and into the market suburb where he lived.

He could feel the tension pulling at his shoulders, and was disgusted with himself for it. All Forrester had done was flirt a bit with Claire, and Nicholas had wanted to separate the man’s limbs piece by piece with his bare hands. Caveman.

He had to get control of this tendency to overreact about Claire. It was totally in contrast to the way he wanted to move their relationship forward. Calm, cool and unemotional. That was the plan.

‘Forrester is the kind of man who enjoys watching his business associates go through hoops in an effort to snare him. He won’t be easy to win.’

‘I don’t like that he’s playing with you.’ Claire seemed indignant, and Nicholas smiled. For all her intelligence and enthusiasm for her work, she was unaware of just how cutthroat the business world could be.

‘I’m playing with him, too.’ He shrugged. ‘It’s the way of it.’ He tucked thoughts of the business lunch aside for examination later, and turned the subject to a matter that meant more to him at the moment. ‘Before we go back to the office, I want to collect something from my house.’

‘Oh, okay.’

Claire didn’t have a lot else to say, but he didn’t mind the quiet. It allowed him to reflect on the success of his plans so far. Four months from now—four months and two days, to be exact—they would be married. Despite that incident with the jealousy, which had been a simple glitch, he liked the idea of marrying Claire more and more.

When they arrived at the house, Claire gazed about with apparent interest. ‘How long have you had a home here? I’d have pictured you in an apartment, to tell the truth.’

‘I bought this place six years ago.’ He swung the car into the driveway of a large two-storey home. Roman columns supported a porch that stretched the full width of the house on the lower storey. Above, a balcony circled around to the back.

The deep gold brick came from an Outback town that had the only kiln of its kind in Australia. Although the house wasn’t modern in design, it was original, and it pleased him. He had an urge to try to convince Claire that she’d love it here, and squashed it. He didn’t have to impress her.

‘I thought you should see where you’ll be living.’

‘It’s very nice.’ She seemed sincere, but reluctant to say more, and quickly turned her attention to the flowerbeds.

Nicholas refused to acknowledge any sense of relief at her approving assessment.

‘Those borders are pretty.’ Claire gestured towards the blooming plants and bushes. ‘I’m a closet gardener, you know. A frustrated one, at my apartment complex, but I’d have a great big garden if I had the opportunity.’

Was this what she’d meant by getting to know each other better? That they should share small, intimate details about each other?

He decided he could live with her revelations, and maybe come up with a few simple ones of his own. It wouldn’t kill him to try, particularly if all they had to talk about were innocuous things like gardening. ‘You can take over the care of the garden when we’re married, if you like. Come and see the interior.’

Nicholas led the way to the front door, disarmed the security system, and stood back to allow her to precede him. ‘We’ll start upstairs and work our way down.’

He showed her the bedrooms, exchanging casual conversation with her as they made the tour. After the first few minutes she relaxed, and so, he found, did he. Claire did like his home, and there was nothing wrong with him feeling a bit of pride about that.

His feeling of ease left him abruptly when they stepped into the master bedroom. Her eyes turned to deep velvet brown, and a pink flush suffused her cheeks before she quickly looked anywhere but at him.

His pulse leaped, but he only said, ‘The view is rather spectacular from here at night.’ He threw the drapes open. ‘That’s one of the reasons the living room and kitchen are above stairs, rather than below. Would you like to see?’

‘That would be nice.’ She moved past him, the flags of colour in her cheeks still very much in evidence. ‘It’s a treat to see the harbour from a different perspective—although I appreciate the view of it from your office, too.’

Who cared about sights like the Opera House and Sydney Harbour Bridge? He wanted to ravish her, here and now. The temptation made him clench his hands as she passed him.

I’ll have her in my bed when the time is right. Not because of some impulsive, and thoroughly controllable urge.

Anything else would smack of being driven, and nothing drove Nicholas Monroe to act in any way that he didn’t first plan, then initiate in his own time.

‘I could live out here.’ Her words floated back to him, and he moved to join her on the balcony. ‘You can see every bit of movement on the harbour so clearly.’

Their shoulders brushed, and he allowed himself to enjoy the scent of her, the warmth of her skin. ‘The Forresters’ yacht must be out there somewhere.’

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