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Marriage: For Business or Pleasure?
Nicola Marsh
Wedlocked: Rogue Billionaire, Contract Wife Brittany Lloyd faces the deal of a lifetime…with the ex who broke her heart – Italian tycoon Nick Mancini. Little does she know that her rebellious bad boy is now a multimillionaire… Nick can’t believe his eyes! His red-haired wildcat is now a businesswoman, with designer suits to match.She needs his help…and he wants her. So he proposes a convenient marriage – strictly business, of course! But wickedly sexy Nick is planning a red-hot wedding night to remember: there’s nothing on his agenda but pure pleasure!
About Nicola’s Modern Heat™, TWO-WEEK MISTRESS:
‘Funny, witty and sensually enticing, TWO-WEEK MISTRESS by Nicola Marsh left me laughing at the antics of her characters while enjoying the sensuality of this novel.’
—www.cataromance.com
About BIG-SHOT BACHELOR, also from Modern Heat™:
‘Nicola Marsh writes a down-to-earth romance that will appeal to everyone…’
—www.cataromance.com
About INHERITED: BABY, from Mills & Boon® Romance:
‘Awe-inspiring characters combined with an incredible story, INHERITED: BABY by Nicola Marsh tells the story of a woman’s inspirational spirit to live her life her way, who is able to succeed in getting the man of her dreams…’
—www.cataromance.com
‘Nick, don’t.’
‘Don’t what? Don’t remember the past? Don’t admire the gorgeous woman you’ve become?’
The heat in his eyes scorched her, captivated her, held her spellbound.
‘Or don’t do something as crazy as this?’
Before she could blink, he hauled her into his arms and kissed her.
The kisses they’d shared as teenagers had been exploratory, tender and achingly poignant. Yet there was nothing remotely sweet or gentle about his mouth crushing hers now.
Their lips clashed in a frantic, hungry union, a fusion of tongues, a meshing of desire that left her reeling.
She should have been immune to him by now. She should have pushed him away and laughed it off as a quick reacquainting peck between friends for old times’ sake.
Should have, should have, should have…As she stood on tiptoes, leaned into him and wrapped her arms around his neck, her resolve to push him away meltedjust as it had ten years earlier, when she’d acted on all the bottled-up feelings she’d harboured for him for years.
Nicola Marsh has always had a passion for writing and reading. As a youngster, she devoured books when she should have been sleeping, and later kept a diary which could be an epic in itself! These days, when she’s not enjoying life with her husband and sons in her home city of Melbourne, she’s at her computer, creating the romances she loves, in her dream job. Visit Nicola’s website at www.nicolamarsh.com for the latest news of her books.
Nicola also writes for Mills & Boon
Romance.
Marriage:
For Business
Or Pleasure?
BY
Nicola Marsh
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk/)
With thanks to Laurie Schnebly, for being a great
teacher and for getting me to ask my characters why?
Chapter One
THE rented SUV swerved on the dusty, potholed driveway of the Mancini place and Brittany Lloyd bit back a curse.
Her average driving skills had little to do with the state of the road or the unwelcome memories assailing her and everything to do with the naked man bent over a thresher.
Semi-naked, technically, as her gaze riveted to the tantalising expanse of bronze, broad back glistening in the scorching Queensland sun.
The muscles shifted, bunched, slid, as he straightened and thrust hands into back pockets of ripped, faded denim, and as her greedy gaze strayed to his butt she suddenly wished she hadn’t stayed away so long.
Ten years in London had been a sane choice, a safe choice considering what she’d been running from, but seeing this hot guy on her first morning home reinforced no place on earth bred guys like Jacaranda.
She should know.
She’d fallen in love with one, had given him her heart, her virginity and her loyalty.
More fool her.
As she righted the car and approached, the guy half turned and this time the SUV sheered straight off the driveway and almost straight into a ditch.
The engine stalled, spluttered, died, as her white-knuckled hands gripped the steering wheel, shock and joy and mindnumbing lust slamming into her, leaving her powerless to do anything but watch him approach.
Not a flicker of emotion crossed Nick Mancini’s face as he reached the car, leaned tanned, toned forearms on the open window and gave her a casual nod.
‘Hey, Britt. Long time no see.’
A casual greeting, without rancour or bitterness; then again, she’d been the one left to pick up the pieces when he’d ended it.
The greeting and his lack of emotion didn’t do justice to what they’d shared, what they’d given up and she’d be damned if she showed him anything other than the same lackadaisical nonchalance despite her jack-hammering heart and clammy hands.
‘Ten years, give or take.’
She wanted him to acknowledge the time they’d spent apart, wanted him to ask how she’d been, wanted him to finally explain why he’d opted out.
Instead, he shrugged, her gaze drifting to those bunching muscles of their own volition, all too aware of how he’d filled out in the last ten years.
He’d been lean rather than muscular back then and now…She wrenched her gaze away from his impressive pecs and focused on his face.
Nick the teenager had been good-looking, cocky and a rebel.
Nick the man was drop-dead gorgeous in a rough-around-the-edges way, still cocky and, if she read him right, still out to prove to the world he didn’t give a damn.
By the smug grin lifting the corners of an all too kissable mouth, she’d read him just right.
‘What brings you by?’
‘Business.’
Something solid, tangible and guaranteed to keep errant emotions at bay no matter how much she wanted to ask him ‘what the hell happened to us?’
She’d hoped to avoid him, had hoped to do business with his father but she’d been a fool. This place was in Nick’s veins, of course he’d be here doing a hard day’s work, working longer and tougher and harder than all his employees.
‘Business, huh?’
His caramelised-toffee eyes narrowed and she wished he’d stop staring at her as if she had a dirt smudge on her nose. He’d always had the ability to see into her soul and right now that was the last thing she needed.
She needed to stay focused. Her promotion depended on it.
‘I’ve got a proposition for you.’
He straightened, all six feet two of lean, hard muscle, and smiled that bad-boy smile she remembered so well, the smile that had haunted her for months when she’d first arrived in London, pining away for her first lovethe same love who had turned down her offer to come with her, to build a life together.
‘I just bet you have, Red.’
He opened the car door and she stepped out, wishing she could hide her blush, knowing it would do nothing for her freckles and hating herself for caring so damn much.
‘No one’s called me that in years,’ she muttered, thankful her hair bore more coppery-blonde streaks these days than the fire-engine red she’d grown up with.
‘That’s a shame.’
He reached out, twisted a stray strand around his finger.
‘They obviously don’t know you as well as I do.’
She pulled away quickly before she did something stupid, such as stand there and let him twist her around his finger and not just by the hair. ‘You don’t know me at all.’
Ignoring the glint in his eyes, which seemed a richer, deeper toffee than she remembered, she glanced at her watch, hoping he’d get the hint.
‘Is your father here? I need to discuss this with him.’
His eyes clouded, darkened, as pain twisted his mouth. ‘Papa died. Guess the news didn’t make it all the way to London.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, suddenly ashamed she hadn’t kept in touch with news from home.
Not that the thought hadn’t crossed her mind on occasion but then, he hadn’t been the reason she’d fled Jacaranda.
‘Are you really?’
She noticed the angry lines fanning from the corner of his mouth, the indentation between his brows, aging him beyond his twenty-eight years.
He’d never looked at her like this back then. Uh-uh. He might have been a rebel but he’d never been brooding or angry, far from it.
A decade earlier he’d only ever looked at her with adoration and desire, and for a brief moment she wished she could turn back time.
‘Of course I’m sorry. Everyone around here loved Papa.’
‘You’re right.’
Swiping a hand across his face, he erased the tenseness. ‘Though I’m surprised your old man didn’t say something. You can’t ride a Harley in this town without people lining the roads for a parade.’
His gaze flicked over her and she clenched her hands to stop from smoothing her Dolce and Gabbana suit. His eyes glowed with appreciation but she didn’t miss the slight compression of his lips, as if her favourite designer suit didn’t impress him one bit.
‘Despite your fancy new clothes, surely you remember how it is around here?’
He was trying to bait her, just as he always did and, damn him, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing exactly how much she remembered, most of her memories centred on him.
‘I’ve been busy the last ten years so forgive me if taking a stroll down memory lane hasn’t been high on my list of priorities.’
‘Busy, huh?’
She expected him to ask about her career, wanted to show him how far she’d come, how far they could’ve made it as a couple if he’d accompanied her.
Instead, he stood there, a semi-naked god totally at ease with his surroundings, the sheen of sweat and dust adding to his rugged appeal rather than diminishing it.
Clamping down on the mental image to run her hands over that glorious bare chest, she cleared her throat.
‘I work twenty-four-seven. Being a senior exec at London’s top advertising company takes up most of my time.’
‘What, no time for play?’
His teasing smile slammed into her, the familiarity of it making her gasp.
She didn’t play, not any more. Her play days had stopped when she’d hightailed it out of this town and never looked back.
Work helped her forget…everything.
Work proved how far she’d come.
Work gave her the hard-fought independence she’d clawed her way to the top for, an independence that guaranteed she’d never have to look back.
Biting back a pithy retort, she ducked into the car and grabbed the Manila folder from the passenger seat.
‘What I do in my spare time isn’t your concern. I’m here on business.’
‘Whatever this business proposition of yours is about, you’ll be dealing with me.’
He fixed her with a probing stare, a potent stare that sent a ripple of unease through her.
