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She was now financially secure and no longer based in Sydney. The financial pressure of her mother’s mortgage was gone.
She was no longer a virgin.
The difference that made was unexpectedly huge. She now knew that if she was not passionately attached to her prospective husband, she would not be able to go through with the physical side of the relationship.
She was aware that this restriction would drastically reduce her chances of finding someone. She was almost certain that none of the men on her list would fulfill her new requirement, but she was no longer worried. She could marry, or not. It was her choice.
The sense of freedom that came with that thought was huge.
She still wanted a stable marriage, but she no longer felt she had to marry in order to be happy or secure. Now she had a much more important goal: she wanted to be loved.
Zane turned into the drive that led to the Atraeus Resort and pulled in under the elegant portico.
Lilah signed the register then followed Zane to the bank of elevators. “What if I say ‘no’ to more time together?” The instant the question was out she knew it was a fatal mistake.
Elevator doors slid open.
Zane gestured that she precede him. “I’m counting on the fact that, when it comes to us, you don’t have a big track record with ‘no.’”
The abrupt switch to teasing charm, and Zane’s use of the word us threw her even more off balance. “A gentleman wouldn’t say that.”
He hit the button to close the door. “But then, as we both know, I’m no gentleman.”
No. He was mad and bad and dangerous to know. He had turned her life upside down, and he was still doing it.
Almost a whole week with Zane before she committed herself fully to the tricky business of finding a husband. The thought was dizzying, tempting.
She couldn’t say no.
“All right,” she said huskily. “Six more days.”
“And then it’s over.”
She tensed, stung by the neutrality of his tone, the implication that he would be relieved when the affair came to an end. “You make it sound like the resolution to a problem.” One of his troubleshooting projects.
Zane bent his head and brushed her mouth with his. “It is a problem, and it has been for two years.”
Six days.
She no longer wanted to concentrate on the men she had planned to meet and date next week. But neither could she afford to abandon her series of interviews altogether.
Zane was not abandoning his life for her. She still needed to plan for the future. She would need something to hold on to when he had gone.
The doors of the elevator opened. Lilah stepped out into the expensively carpeted corridor of the penthouse level. Zane opened the door to a suite.
Decorated in subtle champagne-and-pink hues with elegantly swagged curtains, the suite was both gorgeous and spacious. A glass coffee table held a display of lush pink roses, tropical fruits, a plate of handmade chocolates and an ice bucket with champagne and two flutes.
There were two bedrooms.
Lilah was aware of Zane talking to a bellhop who had delivered their luggage.
While Zane tipped the bellhop she continued to check out the rooms.
Except for the colors, the suite was a mirror image of the one they had shared in Sydney. The separate bedrooms contained identical four-poster beds swathed in diaphanous champagne silk and gorgeous en suite bathrooms. Everything was carefully arranged so that two people could live separate lives in the same suite.
She sensed his presence behind her a split second before she heard the sound of her case being placed on the stand just inside the door. She caught Zane’s reflection in a large ornate mirror and her heart turned over in her chest.
When she turned, one broad shoulder was braced against the door frame. He had brought just the one suitcase, she noted, hers. She realized he had already placed his case in the other bedroom.
She set her handbag down on the end of the bed. “This is a two-bedroom suite.”
His gaze was neutral. “I prefer to sleep alone.”
Her stomach and her heart plunged.
Desperate for a distraction, Lilah switched her gaze to her cases. “Oh good, you’ve brought my laptop.”
She forced a bright, professional smile and grabbed the lifeline of an internet connection.
“You’re going to work?”
Blinking back a sudden urge to cry, she picked up the computer case. “I have some private correspondence to see to.”
Blindly, she walked past Zane out into the sitting room and headed in the direction of an elegant writing desk. Placing the case on the glass-topped surface, she busied herself setting up the laptop.
Zane’s clinical approach to their sleeping arrangements, his rejection of any depth of intimacy, was a reminder she badly needed. Now more than ever, she needed to carry through with her schedule for the following week.
Zane frowned as he watched Lilah. The blank look in her eyes tugged at him, warring with his habit of carefully preserving his emotional distance. He was almost certain she was crying.
Instead of backing off, he found himself irresistibly drawn as she booted up her computer. “I thought we could go out for lunch.”
“That sounds nice.”
Zane frowned at the brisk note in Lilah’s voice. He glanced at her laptop screen. The separate rooms dilemma suddenly evaporated. “Are these online ‘friends’ all male?”
“As it so happens, yes.”
The emotional calm he had worked so hard to maintain since the riveting hours in the cave was abruptly replaced by the same fierce, unreasoning jealousy he had experienced when he had found out that Lucas was taking Lilah to Constantine’s wedding. “Have you dated any of them?”
She fished spectacles out of her handbag, pushed them onto the bridge of her nose and leaned a little closer to the screen as if what she was reading was of the utmost importance. “Not yet.”
Dragging his gaze from the fascinating sight of the spectacles perched on the delicate bridge of Lilah’s nose, he studied the list of men she was perusing. The lineup of photographs portrayed a selection of Greek gods, some flashing golden tans and overly white teeth, some dressed with GQ perfection. The one exception was a slightly battered, bleach blond surfer type.
Lilah scrolled and he glimpsed the logo of the matchmaking agency. The lightbulb flared a little brighter. “But you intend to?”
“That’s right. Next week when I have my annual vacation.”
His gaze snagged on the four men who had withdrawn. He noted the dates. Just days after the scandal had erupted into the newspapers.
He also noted that the flood of new applications had all come in at a similar time. “How many?”
“Fifteen so far.” She scrolled down to a chat page, which had several comments posted. “Seventeen if two other very good prospects come on board.”
The corporate-speak momentarily distracted him. He had to remind himself that the businesslike approach was entirely consistent with Lilah’s view of marriage. She didn’t just want a man, she wanted a paragon, someone who would tick every one of the boxes on her corporate marriage sheet.
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