Marriage: For Business or Pleasure?

by Nicola Marsh

  The old farmhouse should’ve repulsed him, should’ve been a constant reminder of what happened when he loved a woman too much.

  But he’d deliberately blocked out the few memories of his mum, had filled his head and his heart with new ones, mostly centred on a wizened Italian man with a penchant for ripe tomatoes, coarse wine and sugar in his veins.

  Papa had been more than a parent, he’d been his idol. The thought of bringing shame to the family name had stopped him from taking his rebel image too far, Papa’s steadfast support a constant reminder that he could be anybody he chose to be.

  But that was the problem.

  As long as he held onto the plantation, people would be reminded of his humble beginnings, would still harbour doubts about his ability to mix it with the big boys.

  It would kill him to sell, would tear him clean in two, but nothing could take away memories of a father who’d helped mould him into the man he was today.

  Papa would’ve understood, would’ve encouraged him to move forward, and that was exactly what he would do, despite the nagging gut feeling he was turning his back on family.

  ‘Well, if it isn’t the man of the moment. Glad you finally showed up at your own shindig, Mancini.’

  To his amazement, Bram Rutger stuck his hand out, something he’d never done despite the many times they’d crossed paths at similar functions in Sydney or Singapore the last few years.

  He shook it, vindicated his plan had worked yet despising himself for caring what this pompous old fool thought of him.

  ‘Business, you know how it is.’

  ‘That I do, my boy. Something we’ll discuss more of when you return my phone calls. I’m looking to expand my investment portfolio and I think we should talk.’

  Bram’s announcement reinforced he’d made a sound business decision in marrying Britt, but his satisfaction evaporated when the old fool slipped an arm around Britt’s waist.

  ‘And I hear congratulations are in order. You’ve picked a fine woman here.’

  Bram squeezed Britt’s waist as Nick’s hands squeezed into fists. ‘I’ve known young Brittany since she was in the cradle, so make sure you take good care of her, you hear?’

  Oh, he’d take good care of her, starting with punching the supercilious coot in the nose, but he forced a smile and nodded.

  ‘Shall do. Now, if you’ll excuse us?’

  He held out a hand, biting back a grin when Britt all but bolted out of Bram’s hold. ‘Nice seeing you again, Bram.’

  She wiggled her fingers in a teasing wave and Nick growled under his breath as they walked away.

  ‘You shouldn’t tease the old goat. Might give him a heart attack.’

  Her cheeky smile lit up her face. ‘Well, then, his kids will thank me. Apparently he’s worth billions these days.’

  ‘You’re incorrigible.’

  She quirked an eyebrow. ‘This, coming from the guy who used to do very poor impersonations of Bram and his cronies?’

  She shook her head. ‘You’ve changed. Become a snob like them.’

  ‘This, coming from the girl who wouldn’t sit down by Jacaranda River unless I’d spread out a blanket first? From the girl who wouldn’t hop on the back of my bike unless I made sure there wasn’t a dot of grease on the seat? From the girl who—’

  ‘Okay, okay, I get your point. Sheesh.’

  She reached out, smoothed a lapel, her innocuous touch enough to fire his blood and set his heart pounding.

  ‘Nice tux, by the way. Very debonair.’

  ‘Glad you noticed.’

  Their gazes locked again and this time he didn’t look away.

  He’d already got what he came for tonight: vindication he’d made it into the big league, recognition he was more than the blue-collar farm boy he’d once been.

  Time to get this party really started.

  ‘Come with me.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Does it matter?’

  She shook her head, the tendrils framing her face swaying gently and beckoning him to reach out and twist one around his finger, draw her close and hold her all night. But there was plenty of time for that. For now, he’d settle for getting her alone and kissing her senseless.

  ‘Come on.’

  He grabbed her hand and they fought their way through the crowd. He was surprised by the turnout, hundreds of well-dressed revellers who had descended on his property, bringing their own supplies, including tents for camping overnight.

  Singles balls were all the rage these days and, while he liked seeing people having fun, a huge part of him was relieved he was no longer a bachelor.

  It wasn’t everything it was cracked up to be, especially now he had a fortune behind him, with the women who’d once shunned him for having grease on his hands and dust in his hair clambering for a date—or, worse, a relationship.

  Britt had never been like that; she’d liked him regardless and the thought sent a burst of warmth through him, urging him to pick up the pace.

  ‘Great turnout, huh?’

  With her blue eyes glittering with excitement, she looked like a society hostess basking in the success of an event. ‘And the film crew are getting loads of footage I can use in my pitch.’

  ‘That’s great, though personally I can’t believe there are so many desperadoes out there.’

  ‘Most people are here to party, not pick up.’

  They caught sight of a couple kissing in the back of a ute at the same time and Britt chuckled. ‘Well, most of them.’

  ‘Get a room,’ he muttered, suddenly annoyed by the sight of the amorous couple doing exactly what he’d like to be doing with the gorgeous woman by his side.

  ‘What for? If they’re anything like us, a room won’t sweeten the mood.’

  He risked a quick glance at her face, wondering if she were serious but, by the cheeky smile tugging at the corners of her glossed mouth, she wasn’t.

  ‘The room doesn’t matter to us because we have an arrangement. And we’re friends.’

  More the pity. Though he planned to change all that, starting tonight.

  ‘So are those two, by the look of it. Good friends.’ She chuckled and slipped her hand around his elbow, a casual gesture that shouldn’t have sent the blood rushing to his groin. But it did and he could barely focus on anything other than the way she smelt and how she felt tucked in to his side.

  Having her stand so close to him, her signature vanilla enveloping him in seductive sweetness, was hard enough to tolerate without her smoky midnight eyes sending him signals he knew were all in his own head.

  ‘So what did you want to show me?’

  ‘It’s in here.’

  He all but dragged her through the back door into the dimly lit kitchen, knowing this was crazy but unable to stop.

  Her soft laughter echoed in the empty room, his favourite in the house. He had a lifetime of family memories here: making ravioli from scratch while his dad pored over the Sunday newspapers, Britt poking her tongue out at him from across the table as she lobbed a bread roll and feigned innocence.

  Yeah, this room was a definite favourite and he was about to add another treasured memory.

  ‘Okay, apart from this place needing some light, what’s the prob—?’

  Nick covered her mouth with his, cutting off her words and sliding his arms around her waist, marvelling at how right this felt.

  Rather than protest and try to shove him off, she groaned and wrapped her arms around his neck, opening her lips beneath his, teasing him to pleasure her, to taste her and come back for more.

  He was more than willing to comply, deepening the kiss to the point where he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t feel anything beyond this incredible woman in this unforgettable moment.

  She hung on tight, her hands stroking his neck, tugging him closer until he could feel the heat of her skin through his dress shirt, the sizzling, wicked heat urging him to back her up against the table and do what he’d wanted to do f
or weeks now.

  Make sweet love to his beautiful bride.

  He must’ve moved a fraction for she groaned, brushing her breasts against his chest, and he slid his hands around her ribcage, filling them with her full breasts, caressing them, skimming the peaks with his palms until she murmured incoherently, almost making him explode on the spot.

  Alarm bells clamoured in his head—what happened to just business? What happened to getting her to make the first move this time? And he happily ignored them, allowing himself this one brief taste of pleasure before sanity returned and he’d be forced to apologise for making a complete jackass of himself.

  She sensed his hesitation, for she broke the kiss, only to snuggle into his neck and playfully nip the sensitive skin there.

  ‘I can see your problem.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  His hands glided over the slinky material of her dress to caress her butt, the heat of her scorching his palms through the thin silk of her dress.

  ‘You’ve got the hots for me.’

  She chuckled, the small sexy laugh of a confident woman who knew exactly what sort of a schmuck she was dealing with.

  ‘It’s your fault. You’re irresistible.’

  He kissed her again, softly, lingering, wondering how he’d ever had the will power to turn this amazing woman down all those years ago and wondering what the hell he was going to do when she walked out of his life this time around.

  She had his libido firing on all cylinders but it was more than that. They’d reconnected on so many levels, their special friendship a thing to be treasured.

  But what had changed?

  Career-driven Brittany Lloyd would hightail it out of Noosa without a backward glance, leaving him cursing the day he’d been foolish enough to let her back into his heart, a heart he’d deliberately closed off from ever loving any woman too much.

  He might’ve obliterated memories of his mum but he’d never forgotten the pain of abandonment, the intense loss that had clawed at his insides, the doubts that had plagued him for years that he wasn’t good enough to be loved for ever.

  ‘How irresistible?’

  Now wasn’t a time for doubts or deliberating or questioning as he kissed her again, deepened the kiss, craving intimacy as the parched outback craved water to sustain life. The thought of losing her did it, prompting him to do all manner of crazy things like back her up against the table, wishing he’d had the sense to lock the back door.

  Her hands dived into his hair, angling his head for better access to his mouth as she wrapped a leg around his waist, bringing him into delicious contact with her heat, and blind, raging need slammed through him to the point of no return.

  He was out of his mind with need for her but he’d be damned if he took her standing up against a kitchen wall after all this time.

  She deserved more.

  She deserved the universe and then some.

  Wrenching his mouth from hers with effort, he exhaled on a long, ragged breath as he broke the full-length body contact he’d been relishing so much.

  ‘Nick?’

  ‘Not now, not here, not like this,’ he said through gritted teeth, desperate to rein in his libido as he tried not to focus on her swollen mouth, on the lips he’d tasted, lips he’d savoured, lips he’d kiss all night long if he had his way.

  ‘Then when?’

  Confusion clouded her eyes as he balled his hands to stop from hauling her back into his arms, silently cursed making a hash of this.

  Desire pounded through his veins, untamed and undisciplined and uncontrollable, but he’d subdue his ferocious need for now, bide his time, for when they gave into this tempestuous passion he would stop at nothing less than making love to her all night long.

  With great restraint he settled for trailing a fingertip down her cheek, along her jaw, enjoying the instant flare of heat in her sparkling eyes, the soft little smile playing about her lips.

  He cupped her chin, his gaze not leaving hers. ‘Soon, Red. Very soon.’

  Something fierce, something wild and something altogether terrifying flashed across her face before she nodded, slowly.

  ‘Good,’ she breathed on a sigh, setting his heart pumping with wild anticipation as he grabbed her hand and almost dragged her out of the door before he changed his mind.

  Brittany hadn’t had this much fun in ages.

  Sure, she attended swank parties in London and rubbed shoulders with the rich and famous thanks to her brilliant job, but those events were filled with pretentious flakes who spoke to you depending on which designer dressed you or how many millions you made a year.

  She hated the way money talked, hated the way it divided people into classes and, while she understood Nick’s drive to gain acceptance into the privileged world she’d been born into for the sake of his business, she couldn’t help but wish he’d wanted to marry her for her all those years ago.

  They’d both changed so much, yet when he touched her, when he kissed her, the last decade vanished on a wistful sigh.

  They’d been too young back then; she could see it now. She’d romanticised what they had, had mistaken the throes of first love as being something to build a lifetime commitment on.

  But Nick hadn’t been ready and, while his deliberate sabotaging of their relationship at the end had hurt, she understood.

  His father had meant everything to him while she hadn’t been able to wait to escape hers. They’d had different dreams at the time, different goals.

  So where did that leave them now?

  Could two successful, career-driven people take a chance on love?

  She collapsed onto a portable chair in a corner of the harvesting shed, her gaze homing in on Nick surrounded by a bunch of investors while images of the scintillating kiss they’d shared in the kitchen a few hours earlier replayed over and over, making her shiver anew.

  That had been some kiss. Passionate, mind-blowing and way too intense, the type of kiss to pin hopes on, the type of kiss to give a girl ideas of how he felt. And on the heels of his admission on their wedding night, when he’d said he cared about her, way too baffling.

  She’d been trying to tempt him, trying to seduce him, but he’d had nerves of steel.

  Until tonight.

  That kiss in the kitchen had changed everything.

  He wanted her as much as she wanted him, so why had he stopped? Pulled away?

  Damn, the man was infuriating and confusing the heck out of her.

  Every time he touched her, she lost it. But that didn’t mean she had to lose her head completely.

  Having fun and walking away was one thing.

  Having fun and falling for him another.

  No. This time, she’d be smarter than that. She’d come too far from the scared, confused teenager who’d bolted like a fugitive into the night to regress.

  She didn’t need anyone. She’d been doing fine on her own for the last ten years, thank you very much, and getting involved emotionally with Nick would only lead to heartache for them both.

  ‘Hey, what’s with the look?’ Frida Rutger, Bram’s much younger trophy wife, flopped into a chair next to her and fanned her face. ‘Is it hot in here or what?’

  ‘Sure is.’

  Brittany deliberately ignored Frida’s first question, glad for the interruption; anything to distract from her thoughts of Nick.

  However, she should’ve known the astute young woman who’d hosted parties for world dignitaries wouldn’t let her off that easily.

  ‘So, why the glum look? Has that dishy new husband of yours done something to upset you?’

  ‘No.’

  Unless she counted upsetting her equilibrium. ‘Just tired, I guess.’

  Frida’s gaze bordered on jealous as it zeroed in on Nick. ‘I’m not surprised, married to someone like that.’

  Uncomfortable with the woman’s frank admiration—and shocked by the urge to scratch her eyes out—Brittany aimed for distraction.

  ‘Your
dress is gorgeous. Local designer?’

  Thankfully, Frida’s greedy gaze abandoned Nick and focused on her stunning ochre and crimson layered chiffon dress, the bodice hugging her fake boobs until it reached her waist, where it cascaded in a fiery waterfall of riotous colour to her ankles.

  ‘I designed it myself.’

  The thought of the wife of Queensland’s richest man making her own dress almost shocked her as much as Nick’s unexpected kiss earlier.

  ‘Wow, you’re a talented designer.’

  To her horror, Frida’s bottom lip wobbled as she blinked frantically. ‘Pity Bram doesn’t think so.’ She sniffed, plucked at a chiffon layer in her lap. ‘He said it looked like a bottle of orange soda exploded all over me.’

  Brittany watched Bram, paunchy and balding and florid-faced, slap Nick on the back, while his beautiful wife fought tears.

  Searching for a diplomatic answer, she finally said, ‘Bram’s a great businessman, but maybe his fashion sense isn’t up to par?’

  Frida dashed her tears away with an angry swipe, a smile twitching at her mouth.

  ‘He also said I need liposuction and another facelift.’

  Outraged, she abandoned all sense of politeness. ‘Guys are jerks.’

  However, when her gaze returned to Nick, drawn by the magnetic power he exuded by just being in a room, she knew her statement wasn’t entirely true. Not all guys…

  ‘You can say that again.’

  ‘Guys are jerks.’

  Frida chuckled and she joined in, wondering how an attractive young woman could hook up with an overbearing ass like Bram.

  It all came down to money and, once again, she thanked her lucky stars she’d escaped that world and all it stood for.

  ‘Aren’t you the lucky one? Here comes your delicious husband.’ Frida jumped up and smoothed her dress, tears forgotten as she batted her eyelashes at Nick. ‘Nice to see you, Nick.’

  Nick nodded, his gaze fixed on Brittany rather than the eye-catching figure sashaying away in a fiery dress, earning him more Brownie points than she could count.