by Joanne Rock
“That will ruin any hope of resurrecting my matchmaking career. Aside from the personal loss, I would be saddened by the missed opportunity for the world of good it’s doing for so many people,” she reminded him, unable to enjoy the fresh fruit on her plate when her nerves were wound tight. She didn’t want to lose her ability to give back to Moms’ Connection and the women who’d helped her through the darkest time of her life.
He shrugged with a pragmatic air. “Sometimes we make sacrifices for the things that are most important to us.”
How could he be so cavalier about love? “And you don’t care if I look at marriage to you as sacrificing myself?” Maybe she’d hoped some small part of him still cared about what they had meant to each other once.
“We are both offering something to get what we want.” He tapped the table as if jabbing home his point. “I prefer to focus on the positives.”
“Like you getting around your grandfather’s terms for the will?”
“Precisely.” He reached to take her fork from her plate and spear a grape. He then lifted it, offering it to her. “And you avoid a civil suit while growing your business.” He paused, fork hovering in midair. “Among other benefits.”
That damnable heat returned to her skin. How could she have forgotten how easily he tampered with her ability to think clearly?
“So you mentioned. But I’m not going to suddenly take up where we left off just because we sign on for a year together.” She withdrew the fork from his fingers and set it down again, unwilling to play romantic games with him. “Not that I’m seriously considering this idea at all, Ian. If anything, I’m still trying to figure out how to get out of my contract with Singer Associates so I can leave South Beach and the Foxfire project altogether.”
“I would never expect you to pick up where we left off a year ago.” His gaze was steady and direct. He appeared sincere. “I know the heat is still there, but it would be up to you if we did anything about it—plain and simple.”
Her heart beat faster just talking about it. How would she ever find enough strength to resist the man day in and day out for a whole year if she were to actually consider going through with this?
She really didn’t want to lose her matchmaking business because the proceeds did so much good for the charity she cared about. Confused and flustered, she stood abruptly.
“I can’t do this again.” She shook her head, wishing she could shake off the old feelings crowding out reasonable thought. “The first time hurt too much.”
Retrieving her towel, she wanted to retreat before she did something foolish. Like throw her arms around his neck and press herself against him, or drag him deeper into the cabana and peel off his clothes.
“Please.” Ian stood with her, a hand darting out to capture hers, linking their fingers with an ease from their past relationship. “My grandfather had a heart attack last winter after the debacle of Cameron proposing to Sofia.”
Ian’s touch curved around her elbow, gentle but firm.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“It happened while he traveled abroad. In China, in fact. That helped us to keep it quiet.”
She softened a little, knowing how much Malcolm McNeill meant to all of his grandsons. She recalled how Ian had told her about his fond memories of the older man throughout his childhood.
With the sun just above the horizon now, pink and orange light spilled over them, a spotlight just for them. Ian’s fingers caressed the back of her arm lightly and she could feel her resistance ebbing away with the tide.
“Will he be okay?” She read between the lines. If something happened to Malcolm McNeill and Ian had not fulfilled the terms of the trust, the family would lose control of McNeill Resorts.
“We hope so. He had a pacemaker put in and his doctors say he’s doing well. But Gramps wouldn’t let us take him to see his physician in the States yet until he’s certain he can control any rumors spreading about his health.”
They stood just inside the cabana’s shelter, her bare toes curling in the sand as Ian’s fingers stroked lightly over the back of her arm. She wasn’t even sure he was aware that he was doing it. His gaze turned sober, his shoulders tense with concern.
“He wants to protect the integrity of the business.” She understood the older man’s reasons. Even the strongest companies could experience a downturn over rumors about a change in leadership.
“Yes.” Ian’s touch stilled as he met her gaze. “Even at the expense of his health. But you see why I am all the more concerned about protecting his legacy? Not for me, but for him?”
She understood about wanting approval. She’d craved it her whole life from her father and then, after his death, from her half siblings and the family she’d never gotten to know. But that had eluded her. Ian didn’t have those kinds of concern, though. He knew his grandfather loved him.
“If keeping the company in the family was that important to him, don’t you think he would alter the terms of the will?” She tipped her face to the sea breeze off the water, feeling off-kilter over having an intimate conversation with Ian at such close range. “Maybe your grandfather is more concerned with your happiness. I can’t imagine he’d want you to marry someone just for the sake of keeping the business in the family.”
“Malcolm McNeill was raised in a different time. He doesn’t see the problem with choosing a bride for practical purposes.” Ian released her but didn’t move away, which in essence blocked her from leaving the cabana. “So I’m trying to see his reasoning in those terms. You and I make sense together, Lydia. We can help each other.”
This would be so much easier if she didn’t keep mixing up the past and the present, seeing her former lover in Ian instead of the hard, pragmatic man she knew him to be. Even last year, he’d put his grandfather’s wishes before hers, so why should it surprise her that he would marry for the sake of his family? Yet no matter how hard she tried, she saw the man who made love to her in a waterfall at dawn. A man who’d shown her a level of pleasure in bed she’d never imagined possible.
A man who’d held her heart in his strong palm.
“I can’t help you.” Her words were soft, fragile things, not nearly as fierce as she would have liked.
“What could I do to make you say yes?” He corralled a flyaway strand of hair and smoothed it behind her ear. “Just name it.”
He was offering her the chance to keep her matchmaking business and protect her identity from another scandal. He’d keep Vitaly Koslov at bay and give her a kind of respectability she’d never known as the daughter of a notorious tabloid diva. All of which would be very beneficial.
Now, he was even allowing her to dictate her terms.
She couldn’t deny she was tempted. Especially now that she knew his motive wasn’t payback for the matches she’d sent him last fall. She believed he was truly worried about his grandfather’s health and fulfilling one of the old man’s wishes.
“Separate rooms.” The words came tumbling from her mouth before she’d really thought through all the ways this could go wrong. “Help with my matchmaking business if I need it.” She remembered what Kinley had said about the McNeill family’s access to A-list events that would be difficult to get into otherwise.
“I don’t know a lot about matchmaking,” he admitted. “I would have thought you and I were going to be great together.”
Her heart squeezed tight, remembering that she’d thought the same thing until she’d discovered he was only using their relationship to fill the time until he found the right woman to marry. Now it seemed Ian didn’t mind compromising his standards for a wife when he was in a hurry.
“Not that kind of help. I mean it might aid my work if I could use the McNeill name to meet more potential clients.”
“Done.” Ian didn’t hesitate. “It’s a deal then?”
/> A deal? For real? She must have lost her mind for considering this. But it was only for twelve months, right?
“I would have one other condition.” She swallowed hard, needing to be forthright with him if she was going to go through with this.
He stayed silent, which somehow swayed her more than a million words.
She found herself speaking slowly, weighing each thought, almost like dipping her toe in to test the waters. “I would expect you to honor what you said earlier about not using seduction as a weapon.” Her voice did that high, breathy thing again, and she swallowed hard to make it go away. “While I acknowledge there is a pull between us, Ian, I need you to promise me you won’t take advantage of that.”
“On one condition.” His voice lowered. His forehead tipped closer to hers.
Her heart pounded like it wanted to leap free of her chest.
“What?” She should have spelled out that he couldn’t even get this close to her.
What had she been thinking?
“I get to kiss you on two occasions.”
Kisses. Just kisses. But when had they ever been able to stop at just kisses?
She should protest. End this now. Let Vitaly Koslov sue her into bankruptcy for embarrassing his ballerina daughter by sending her a marriage-minded suitor to propose to her in front of the press.
Instead, Lydia breathed in the feel of having Ian this close to her. So close she caught a hint of his sandalwood aftershave that had occasionally clung to her skin after a night in his bed.
“When would those kisses happen?” Her eyes tracked his. “On what occasions?”
“Once on our wedding day. And once to seal the deal.”
“As in...now?” She would not lick her lips even though her mouth went chalk-dry at the thought.
“Right now.” His hand found the center of her back, his palm an electric warmth through the mesh fabric of her cover-up. “Do we have a deal, Lydia? One year together and I’ll honor all of your terms.”
Bad idea, bad idea, her brain chanted, as if to urge the words out of her mouth. But she could not forsake the women—the mothers—who needed her help. And selfishly, she could not put herself through another scandal.
She nodded her assent.
A wicked, masculine smile curved his lips.
“I’m so glad to hear it.” His blue eyes glowed with a new heat in that moment of victory right before he lowered his mouth to hers.
* * *
If one kiss was all he got until their vows, Ian planned to make it count.
His hands cupped her waist just above the gentle curve of her hips. Her skin was warm through the thin mesh cover-up. She pressed closer, or maybe he did, the space between them shrinking until her breasts teased against his chest, the soft swell of sweet feminine flesh making him ache for a better feel of her.
Hunger for her roared down Ian’s spine the moment their lips touched. The electric connection they’d always had sparked to flame, singeing his insides with a need to have her. Here. Now. He could lower the curtains on the cabana for privacy and ease her beautiful body down to the table. With no effort at all he could sweep aside that scrap of fabric that counted as a swimsuit and be deep inside her. He knew her body so well. Felt the answering heat in the breathless way she kissed him back, her fingernails clutching lightly at his shirt to keep him close.
Even now, she fit her body to his, her hips arching into him. Or maybe her legs felt as weak beneath her as his did and she was simply melting against him.
Yes.
He reached behind her, just above her head, to release the tie holding back one side of the cabana’s front curtain. The fabric fell in a rush, cloaking them in shadows. Lydia levered back, blinking up at the change in the light. She focused on the fallen length of white fabric.
“What are you doing?” Her lips trembled. “Why?”
He couldn’t take his eyes off her mouth.
“Giving us more privacy.” He kissed her again, feeding on the plump softness until her lips parted.
He turned them both, pinning her to him with one hand at the small of her back while he flicked free the other side of the cabana curtain, letting it tumble to the ground and shield them completely from view of anyone else on the beach.
“A kiss.” Her words whispered over his mouth in a soft sigh. “We said one kiss.”
“We did.” He bent to taste the skin just below her ear, feeling her pulse beat fast. “And see how well that turned out for both of us?”
“Ian.” She fisted her hands tighter in his shirt for a moment, then edged back from him.
Wide-eyed in the newly dim interior of the closed cabana, she gazed up at him while the white curtains shifted gently in the breeze off the water. He listened to the waves roll in to keep his focus off the way she looked with her cover-up sliding off one shoulder and her lips swollen from his kiss.
He needed to be patient. To not push for more. It would be better when she came to him because she was ready to pick up where they left off. But damn. Keeping his hands off her right now when the air between them pulsed with want and heat proved a staggering test of restraint.
“Yes?” He wanted to trace the fullness of her lower lip. Memorize the feel of her.
“How fast is this going to happen? A marriage, I mean?”
She was talking about marriage? A surge of triumph pumped through him. This deal was all but done.
He held back his victory shout and kept his voice level. “I hope you’re asking because you’re looking forward to that next kiss as much as I am.”
“I’m wondering how to handle us being on the same job in the same city. If we’re supposed to look like a couple, and if that’s okay while we’re working together.” She straightened her cover-up and took a step back from him.
He tugged the privacy curtain back into place on one side of the cabana, giving up on the idea of resurrecting their relationship with impromptu sex on the breakfast table.
Patience.
“I’ll find a justice of the peace and see how quickly we can put in the paperwork.” He would rest easier when he knew he was on track to meet the terms of his grandfather’s will. The sooner they got married, the sooner that would happen.
His brother Quinn and his ballerina fiancée were due to wed in two weeks. With any luck, Ian would already be wed to Lydia by then. Not that they needed to announce it until afterward.
“And you think we can stay on this job together as a couple, no emotions, no sex involved?” She seemed worried about that and he wondered why.
He’d never imagined her as overly concerned with finances. She was donating 100 percent of the money she made in her matchmaking business, after all. His friend Bentley’s report had confirmed as much.
But then again, if she was so financially stable, he had to wonder about her accommodations at the old, worn-down Calypso Hotel.
“I will honor your wishes every step of the way. But to be certain, I’ll speak to Jeremy today. And in the meantime, I have several vacant bedrooms at the suite at the Setai. I’ll ask the concierge service to move your things.” He sent out two text messages to arrange for her clothes to be delivered to the penthouse.
She’d said separate rooms. But she could hardly quibble when his suite was bigger than most private homes.
“There’s one other thing. About the terms I mentioned?” She followed him out of the cabana across the sand, back toward his car. “I’d like to use your name to get into a party later this week. I think I’ll get in more easily as your guest.”
“I’ll put you in touch with my assistant if we need an invitation. I’ll go with you and we can debut our romantic relationship publicly.” He withdrew his phone and sent a message to Mrs. Trager.
She paused near the Calypso.
“I’m parked this way.” He pointed toward his vehicle in a spot up the street.
“But I should at least go shower and change.”
“You can do both those things at my suite. For all we know we’ll be able to marry by this afternoon.” He took her hand and led her forward when she hesitated. “We might as well stick together.”
“I can’t believe we’re really going through with this.” She matched her steps to his, heading toward the BMW convertible. “Should we sign an agreement of some sort? I’d feel better if we had things in writing.”
“Of course.” He would ensure their terms were spelled out clearly. Put her at ease with the plan so she could relax and enjoy the benefits of marriage.
Because the next time they kissed, he planned to take his time reminding her how very rewarding the next twelve months together could be.
Six
Three whirlwind days later, shortly before noon, Lydia stood in front of a Dade County justice of the peace and signed the documents to become Ian’s wife.
Privately, they’d already signed the papers spelling out the terms for separation in one year. She’d had a trusted attorney look over it to be sure she understood all aspects of the document and agreed the settlement was fair. Ian had added numerous financial benefits that she’d had stricken from the agreement since she wasn’t marrying him for a cash prize, for crying out loud. They’d argued about it more than once, but in the end, he’d capitulated when she’d flat-out refused to sign under those terms.
Now, signing her name beside Ian’s in the public register, Lydia clutched her flowers tighter as the simple ceremony got underway. They hadn’t even forewarned their families. But though there was no fanfare, she wore an ivory silk cocktail dress that Ian had ordered for the occasion. He’d insisted it was his tailor’s idea since her dress matched the accessories on his charcoal silk suit. And she had to admit the lines of the sheath gown with its wide-set straps and square neck were pretty without shouting “bridal” when they’d walked into the courthouse.
