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‘I can see a massive flaw in your plan—the baby—so do you expect me to walk around with a pillow shoved down my jumper, too?’
‘That won’t be necessary. We will be away on an extended honeymoon when you tragically lose the baby. It’s not something we want to talk about and people will respect that.’
‘You’ve thought of everything.’
‘If not, I’m pretty good at thinking on my feet.’
‘And modest with it,’ she snapped back waspishly.
‘So what do you say, Mari Jones? Eighteen months of your life, then afterwards slate clean and a financial settlement to ease your way back into your life? It’s negotiable but the figure I suggest is—’
‘No!’
He watched as she chewed her plump lip, an abstracted expression on her face, before she settled back in her seat with a little sigh followed by a decisive nod as she looked at him.
‘Make it exactly what Mark’s treatment costs and you have a deal.’ She gave him a hard look.
‘That would amount to you throwing away several million pounds.’
‘I don’t care about the money.’
‘I assumed you would go away and think about it.’
She gave a slightly wild-sounding laugh. ‘Thinking is the last thing I want to do! The only thing is...when you said this was business you wouldn’t expect me to—’
‘I have never had to pay for sex.’
His eyes trained on the outline of her breasts where the nipples left an erotic imprint against the wet fabric of her shirt. Unable to fight the impulse, he reached across and pushed aside a strand of rain-darkened hair that clung to her cheek.
The touch of his fingers on her skin made Mari tense; slowly she turned her head to look at him. The light contact felt like a brand at every point of contact and her skin tingled and burned.
‘Right, I’ll marry you but I won’t sleep with you.’
A slow smile of satisfaction spread across his hawkish features. ‘In my experience it’s always a good idea to keep business and pleasure separate, but let’s not include it in the vows.’
Mari flinched. Hearing him say vows made it seem more real. She felt as if she were living a recurrent childish nightmare of hers—she had stepped on a carousel that wouldn’t stop and let her off, it just carried on going round and round while she started screaming.
His smile died as he said softly, ‘The next time maybe...?’
She gave a bemused frown and shook her head, parroting in a flat voice, ‘Next time?’
‘Don’t all girls dream of the wedding dress?’
‘Not the groom?’
‘Let’s hope you find a man who hasn’t been put off the white-wedding thing by having been previously publicly humiliated by a wedding crasher. Oh, and while we are on the subject it’s not the best idea to start looking for Mr. Right or even a little light entertainment until after we have split up.’
Struggling to hide her embarrassment behind an air of amused indifference, she shrugged and asked, ‘Is that in the small print?’
He did not smile back, and there was a definite warning in his voice as he told her, ‘No, that part is in the big print. If it’s any comfort, you won’t be the only one condemned to eighteen months of celibacy.’
What was eighteen months when you’d already done twenty-four years? she thought, swallowing the bubble of hysteria that rose in her throat.
‘Still, I suppose eighteen months of abstinence is preferable to a lifetime of regret.’
She lost the battle to allow his cynicism go unchallenged. ‘I suppose the trick is to find the right person.’
He gave an eloquent sneer of contempt. ‘The trick is to enjoy the party but be realistic.’
His attitude continued to get under Mari’s skin. ‘So if you don’t believe people fall in love forever, why were you getting married?’
A muscle throbbed in his lean cheek as he gave a strange twisted smile. ‘Did I say I didn’t think people fall in love forever? My parents’ passion for one another is as strong today, I would think, as the day they met.’ And just as blindly selfish.
The idea of following their example had been the perfect incentive when it came to keeping his own passions under control.
She was bewildered by the aura of anger he was projecting. It had an almost physical presence in the enclosed space.
‘Well, that’s marvellous.’ She looked at him, struggling to read his expression. ‘Isn’t it?’
‘My parents’ love has not stopped them having affairs, but they always come back to one another. However the divorces were never amicable and the marriages always headline-making lavish.’
Her eyes widened. ‘How many times?’
‘Married three times, divorced twice...so far.’
‘That must have been hard growing up.’
The tentative sympathy was met with a hard look. ‘Put your empathy away, Mari. I do not need it. My grandfather brought me over from the Argentine to England when I was eight, up from that point he raised me, and then when Fleur came along he adopted her.’
‘Do you spend much time in Argentina?’
He shook his head. ‘Not now. After the death of her husband my grandmother moved back to her homeland, Spain. I spend some time there.’ He handed her a card. ‘My private number—ring me if you have any questions. So where shall I take you?’
‘I came in my own car,’ she said faintly. ‘So what happens...now?’
‘We get married. It’s not complicated.’
Mari swallowed. ‘When?’
‘I’ll be in touch.’
CHAPTER SIX (#u44e78751-169f-5476-9236-732847501399)
MARI WAS PACKING her bag when her mobile rang. Finding it under a pile of underclothes, she saw the caller ID and picked it up. Chloe had been her classroom assistant for two years now. She was one of the people Mari would miss most, along with the children. She had always felt she was one of the lucky ones. She loved her job and never woke up not wanting to go into work—now all that was gone.
She pushed the thought away—no time to look back and have regrets. ‘Hi, Chloe!’
‘Is it true? Have they really sacked you?’ Without waiting for a reply the girl continued indignantly, ‘Is that even legal?’
‘I’m on a temporary contract. It runs out at the end of the term.’ Not long ago there had been some pretty broad hints dropped that she might be offered a permanent contract at that point, but that was not going to happen now. ‘They are giving me paid leave until then and a good reference.’
Would Sebastian give her a good reference when their contract was successfully completed? She swallowed a bubble of hysteria and heard the younger girl say, ‘Well, I think it’s terrible. We all do, Mari—you’re the best teacher in the place.’
Mari felt her eyes fill at the tribute.
‘So what are you going to do?’
‘I thought I might travel a bit, take a trip.’ She kept it vague, as she had done the previous day when she had visited Mark, though Chloe showed a lot more interest in her plans than her brother had.
Mark had barely listened when she’d said that she needed to take a trip. All he could talk about were the arrangements for his transfer—his mention of her part in the change in his fortune had been lightly touched on.
‘I knew if you could swallow your pride it would be all right. I’ve no idea what you said to him, sis, but it worked, Seb has done the right thing.’
‘I didn’t say anything. How do you know it was him?’
‘Who else would it be? And don’t look like that.’ He’d sighed. ‘You always managed to ruin things with that guilt thing of yours. It’s win-win—he can go around feeling good because he’s dug his hand in his pocket for the poor cripple and, let’s face it, it’s not as though he doesn’t owe me. He put me here after all.’
Did he...? Mari’s innate honesty could no longer support the deception. She felt guilty for not being more sympathetic to her brother, and when the opportunity arose she’d leaped at the chance to offload that guilt onto someone else.
‘I knew you’d come through for me, sis—you always do.’
When his eyes slid from hers she realised that he didn’t want to know how. Her twin always had a knack to ignore uncomfortable truths, the ones that made him uncomfortable anyway.
It was an ability Mari envied him.
* * *
She was expecting the knock on the door but she jumped anyway.
She’d been expecting a flunkey of some sort, so when she opened the door and found Seb himself standing there she was too shocked to disguise her reaction. Her jaw dropped and her blue eyes flew wide open. The raw masculinity he exuded hit her like a runaway train.
Like someone coming out of a trance, she blinked and hoped her knees would support her. ‘What are you doing here?’ It came out a lot more accusingly than she had intended.
In response his dark brows lifted as without a word he stepped past her and into the living room. He subjected the long narrow space to the same sort of critical scrutiny that she’d endured, and from his expression she assumed it had been assessed as wanting, also.
Lucky she didn’t crave his approval. In fact she told herself if the day ever dawned that she got it, that was the time to worry.
‘I said one o’clock. It is one.’ His frown deepened. ‘Aren’t you ready?’
Trying not to react to his abrupt manner, she gave a curt nod, and, matching his noticeably cold attitude, indicated her bag propped up against the sofa, one of several pieces of furniture in the place she had reupholstered or revamped. She couldn’t sew a stitch, but she was a whiz with a staple gun and a paintbrush.
‘Of course I’m ready.’ Was this about the way she looked? ‘Should I go back and put on my tiara?’ She tried to hide a sudden flash of uncharacteristic insecurity under sarcasm.
He slung her an impatient look. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘I thought, you thought that I...maybe should, should I wear something a bit more...?’ She glanced down at her slim-fitting jeans and the cropped jacket left open to reveal the silky acid-yellow sleeveless top that showed a tiny sliver of flat midriff.
His eyes moved in an expressionless sweep from her toes to the top of her glossy head. ‘You look fine. It’s only a register office.’
Wow, he sure knows how to make a girl feel good, she thought, compressing her lips in silent resentment, furious with herself for virtually asking for his approval.
‘Actually I wasn’t expecting you. I assumed you’d send a driver or something.’
Her calm was only a single cell thick, but it was very important to Mari that he had no idea just how not calm she was. She was almost sick with apprehension, and under that there were layers of confusing, conflicting emotions that were just too complicated to acknowledge. On a more practical level she was worried she might actually throw up.
‘So how long will it take...?’
He dragged his gaze from that tiny sliver of flat, toned, creamy-skinned stomach and cleared his throat, reminding himself that this was business.
‘The flight or—?’
‘Both,’ she cut in quickly.
‘The company jet was available, so not long for the journey. The wedding I’ve arranged so that we can stop off on the way to the airport.’
‘That sounds ideal.’ Her voice was clear and cool but Seb could see her hands were shaking as her gaze flickered around the room; she was looking anywhere but at him. She reminded him of a trapped animal.
She accused him of pride, but Seb suspected that Mari’s stiff-necked version of that sin would make her walk over hot coals before she’d admit she was nervous. It was an exasperating characteristic, almost as much as her wildly misplaced loyalty to her brother and he was not above exploiting this misplaced loyalty.
Which makes you...?
She was a consenting adult; she knew what she was doing. Somehow this didn’t stop his pangs of conscience.
‘It’s all right to be nervous.’
‘I’m not nervous. I’ll just be glad when it’s over.’
‘Is this all you have?’ He nodded towards the moderate-size holdall that was propped against a sofa that had bespoke and expensive written all over it. The open-plan living area suggested that the owner had expensive taste.
‘I fit a lot in. I wasn’t sure what to bring.’ She hurried and clumsily snatched the bag up before him. ‘I can manage,’ she said with the attitude of someone expecting a fight.
No fight materialised; he simply straightened up and watched as she flung it purposefully over her shoulder, allowing himself a faint smile when the impetus as it hit her hip almost knocked her off balance.
‘Fine by me.’
‘That’s good, then,’ she said, knowing the response sounded lame.
Mari lived on the fourth floor in a small nondescript brick building that had no lift, and by the time they had reached the third floor she was regretting he hadn’t argued her out of her decision. Halfway down she swallowed her pride and paused to catch her breath.
He paused, too, not breathless obviously, just looking like a Hollywood film star who had drifted onto the wrong set. This peeling paint and worn carpet really wasn’t his natural setting.
He looked down at her through the mesh of his crazily long dark eyelashes and nodded to the bag. ‘Manage that, can you?’
She gritted her teeth, straightened up and produced a sunny smile. The weight had almost yanked her shoulder from its socket, but she’d die before she’d admit it or accept his help. ‘I’m fine, thank you.’
He stood aside as she exited the flat door sideways, not making allowances for the bulk of the bag as she eased past him carefully.
‘Sure you don’t need help?’
