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Two Weeks in the Magnate's Bed
Nicola Marsh
He’ll tempt her… Shipping tycoon Zac McCoy can sense there is a passionate woman behind Lana Walker’s shy exterior. Whilst aboard his luxury yacht, he’ll tempt her out to play! He’ll tease her… Lana always looks before she leaps. But the captivating Captain has her throwing caution to the wind. The gloves come off, the silk dresses slip on – and the real Lana begins to emerge.He’ll take her! He’ll have her as his two-week mistress. But as land approaches, a fortnight may not be enough…
‘Do I make you hot?’
Zac slid his hands up and down her upper arms, the rhythmic contact depriving her of all rational thought and possible responses as he gazed at her with hunger and greed and passion
‘I don’t know what to say—’
‘You have no idea what you do to me when you look at me like that.’
He tugged her close a second before crushing her lips beneath his. The scorching kiss, a sensual assault, left her reeling.
As she tilted along with the deck beneath her shaky feet, she realised she’d never been kissed like this—ever.
She clung to him as his lips teased her to match him. She moaned, a guttural sound deep in her throat, and the noise inflamed him as he leaned into her, pressing her back against the rail and setting her wildest desires alight.
She should stop this madness, re-erect the barriers that had come crashing down the first instant his lips had touched hers.
But it felt so good to be desired, so good to have the attention of a man, so good to obliterate any lingering memories of what had happened on this night over three years ago…
Praise for
Nicola Marsh:
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
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 whose content could be an epic in itself! These days, when she’s not enjoying life with her husband and son 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.
Recent titles by the same author:
HOT NIGHTS WITH A PLAYBOY
THE BOSS’S BEDROOM AGENDA
PURCHASED FOR PLEASURE
With thanks to fellow M&B Romance authorClaire Baxter, for helping me brainstorm Zacin all his dynamic, enigmatic glory!
Dear Reader
There’s something about cruising… the choice to do everything or nothing, the delicious food, the excitement of sailing the seven seas (maybe indulging the odd pirate fantasy or two?), the brilliant eye candy factor with all those guys in uniform… Ahem, where was I?
Can you blame a girl for having her head turned by a strong, sexy sailor? The type of guy to sweep you off your feet, to romance you in the style you deserve?
Lana Walker doesn’t know what has hit her when suave shipping magnate Zac McCoy does exactly that—turning on the charm till the shy curator doesn’t know whether to succumb or jump ship and swim for shore.
What would you do? Give in to a spellbinding romance, no matter how brief, or settle for the safe option? I’ve been in this position and, believe me, taking the romance was worth every magical second!
I hope you get swept away by Lana and Zac’s enchanting romance too.
Happy reading
Nicola
www.nicolamarsh.com
TWO WEEKS IN THE MANGNATE'S BED
By
Nicola Marsh
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
CHAPTER ONE
AS THE taxi screeched to a halt, Lana Walker flung open the door and scrambled for her bags.
‘Hey, slow down. You haven’t missed the boat.’
The deep groove in the driver’s caterpillar mono-brow had been honed with years of practice if his glare was any indication.
The way she saw it, she might have arrived on time to board the Ocean Queen, but she’d missed the boat metaphorically in every other way that counted—which was exactly why she was taking this trip.
She rummaged for the fare and darted a curious glance at the ship, spotting several officers in white uniforms on deck.
Very impressive—and the ship wasn’t half bad either.
A shadow loomed over the open passenger door as the driver held out his hand. ‘Some people have all the luck. How about my fare, lady?’
Grouch. She resisted the urge to poke out her tongue as she handed him the money, picked up her luggage and headed for the escalators.
What would he know about luck? She’d worked hard for what she had—damn hard: five years as curator at Melbourne Museum, and three years as head curator at Sydney Museum had been amazing, stimulating and stressful.
Sure, she had a stellar reputation in the industry, and a gorgeous apartment in the beachside suburb of Coogee, but that was about it.
She didn’t have a life.
No time out, no socialising, no fun.
Over the next two weeks she planned to change all that.
Though luck had played a part in this trip; if she hadn’t won the cruise she wouldn’t have taken a holiday, sad workaholic that she was.
As thoughts of work crowded her head, namely how she’d recently missed out on the opportunity of a lifetime courtesy of her crippling shyness, she stumbled at the top of the escalator and pitched forward, silently cursing the three-inch heels her shoe-crazy cousin Beth had loaned her for the trip.
So much for the hope that the illusion of height would give her extra poise. It would be difficult to feign elegance when she landed on her butt.
Grabbing wildly at anything more stable than air, she exhaled on a relieved sigh as a strong pair of arms shot out, holding her in a vice-like grip.
‘Whoa. These things are lethal if you don’t concentrate. Too busy daydreaming about the Love Boat, huh?’ The smooth voice, with more than a hint of amusement in its husky depths, sent an unexpected shiver down her spine as she looked up into her rescuer’s face.
Wow.
Seeing good-looking guys on a daily basis was a perk of her job. The museum was a haven for sexily scruffy archaeological students, attractive teachers, even the odd university professor with a distinguished Sean Connery thing going on.
Yet this guy who now pinned her with arms displaying a great set of biceps was so much more than that. Striking was more appropriate. Even sex-on-legs, as brazen Beth would say.
Hypnotic eyes, a deep, cobalt blue, were fringed with long dark lashes any woman would have envied, and those baby blues were pinned on her, a teasing glint in their rich depths.
She inhaled sharply, unprepared for an intoxicating fresh citrus scent that left her head spinning—and not just from her near-fall.
As for his lips, curving with the hint of a smile, for the first time in her reclusive life she understood the label ‘kissable’.
All too aware she was staring—gawking, more like it—she dropped her gaze. Only to be confronted by an equally intriguing sight: a broad expanse of tanned chest where the two top buttons of his shirt were undone.
Hotter than Indiana Jones, leapt to mind.
She had a major thing for Indiana—always had—and, lucky her, Indiana’s double was holding on to her as if his life depended on it.
She’d wanted to gain confidence, step outside her comfort zone, experience new things on this cruise. To broaden her outlook to the extent she was never passed over for a work opportunity again. She had been thinking along the lines of dance lessons, lectures on exotic destinations, shore excursions, that sort of thing.
However, being held by this guy had her mind sailing down channels she’d never usually contemplate. Not a bad thing entirely, if taking this holiday had already affected her mindset. Maybe shy, geeky Lana—as she’d once overheard some colleagues call her—was already slipping into vacation mode.
Her heart thumping, whether in fear of her strangely errant thoughts or excitement at what they might urge her to do, she eased out of his grip.
He grinned and, typically, he had a sexy smile to match the rest of him. ‘So, do I pass inspection?’
Great. He knew she’d been checking him out. Her skill at covert observation was on a par with her wardrobe: shabby at best.
‘What makes you think I was inspecting anything? You were holding me so tight I had nowhere to move, let alone look.’
‘Feisty. I like that.’ His eyes gleamed, and the corners of his too-tempting-for-comfort mouth twitched in amusement.
Heat suffused her cheeks as she struggled to come up with a comeback. She hated how she always thought of a great retort ten minutes too late.
How was it she could answer any student’s query in a second, but right now her brain—a whiz at cataloguing priceless artefacts, leading tour groups and calculating storage data—was totally befuddled?
‘Thanks for breaking my fall.’
As replies went, it was pretty lame. Pathetic, in fact; it looked as if her comeback skills had sunk to the same level as her flirting expertise: below average bordering on non-existent.
More embarrassed than she cared to admit, she managed a tight smile, picked up her luggage and turned away, striding towards the ship though her knees wobbled like just-set jelly.
‘Watch your step!’ he called after her, his voice shaking with laughter.
She stiffened, but didn’t break stride, determined not to look back, refusing to give him the satisfaction. Besides, she could feel his stare boring holes into her back.
Her skin prickled at the recollection of those incredibly blue eyes twinkling at her, laughing at her, and she shook her head in disgust. She was such a novice at this.
‘Live a little, cuz. Let your hair down. Go crazy,’ Beth had encouraged her. ‘You’ve got two weeks to cut loose, to be someone you wouldn’t dream of being on land. Make the most of it.’
Great advice, and it had sounded easy coming from her bubbly, confident cousin, who bounced through life with a perpetual smile on her face. And Beth sure knew what she was talking about, considering her positive attitude had landed her Aidan Voss, the dreamiest husband on the planet.
As for Beth’s other advice—‘dust off the cobwebs, get laid’—Lana blushed just thinking about it.
It was precisely three years, two months and five days since she’d last had sex. Not that she was counting or anything. Besides, she’d have to date to have sex—would have to get emotionally involved with the guy to contemplate it—and she didn’t trust her emotions any more; not after what Jax the Jackass had done.
She tucked her old holdall under her arm tighter and headed for the gangway. Beth was right. While her professional life shone, her social life sucked. She had no confidence, no social skills, and no hope of being chosen for the museum’s next overseas jaunt unless she learned to be more assertive, more outgoing, more everything.
Maybe this cruise would be just what a conservative curator needed?
Zac watched the petite brunette cut a path through the crowd, confused and intrigued.
Most of the holidaymakers he met were dressed to kill, and wearing enough make-up to sink a ship—no pun intended—yet she wore a simple navy suit bordering on severe, and barely a slick of lipgloss. And yet she had managed to capture his attention anyway.
He’d reached out to her in an instinctive reaction, but once she was in his arms his synapses had short-circuited and he’d found himself wanting to hold on way longer than necessary.
What was with that?
He’d lost any tender regard towards the fairer sex around the time Magda had done her chameleon act, and he hadn’t let a woman get close enough to sink her talons in since.
Unwittingly, his gaze was drawn to the diminutive figure striding towards the ship, head up, shoulders squared, as if ready for battle. No simple walking for her. No, sirree. She had to sway her hips in a natural, tantalising rhythm in sync with her legs.
Running a hand across his eyes didn’t help his quest to wipe her imprint from his retinas. Her sexy gait was replaced by an instant image of feline hazel eyes and a full, pouting mouth. Lord, that mouth. He could fantasise about it for ever. As for that innocent schoolgirl-channelling-schoolmarm expression she had down pat—he’d never seen anything like it.
