The Playboy’s Unexpected Bride

by Sandra Marton

“You made my father a promise, Senhor Aldridge. I do not think he will be pleased when he hears that you intend to renege on it.”

  The baby let out a cry. Linc let out a groan. And assumed, as any intelligent man would, that he had somehow fallen through a wormhole in space and emerged in a nightmare.

  CHAPTER THREE

  AS A boy, Lincoln had taught himself Tai Chi.

  Well, maybe not Tai Chi, precisely. The classes had been held after school; they’d cost money and no way would his mother have been able to afford them. Hell, there was no way she’d have paid for something he’d wanted even if she’d been able to afford it.

  But he’d spied on the class by cracking open the locker-room door, and he’d learned. Not the finer points, perhaps, but enough to find Tai Chi useful.

  The ancient Chinese martial art was as much about self-control as it was about physical strength.

  Eventually, he’d figured out that was something you could apply to life in general. He’d used that realization over the years and he thought of it now as he fought the growing tension inside him.

  Too bad you didn’t think about Tai Chi when you first met this babe, a smug voice inside him said.

  Linc ignored it. He’d made a fool of himself with her once. It wouldn’t happen again. Besides, Ana Maria Marques looked as furious as he felt.

  She also looked spectacular, every man’s dream of a dressed-for-success female, the black suit elegant and proper, yet somehow hinting at the rounded contours of her body, the black pumps discreet until you took a look at the height of those heels and what they did for her long, lean legs.

  His PA had stepped back into the room, the baby pressed to her shoulder, a bewildered look on her face.

  “Sir? My apologies. I don’t know why Reception let this woman—”

  “It’s all right, Sarah.”

  “If the lady has an appointment, I don’t have anything in my calendar about it.”

  “If you think you are going to throw me out because I don’t have an appointment,” Ana said hotly, “I assure you, Senhor Aldridge, you are not!”

  A muscle flexed in Linc’s jaw but his tone was calm.

  “Thank you, Sarah. Shut the door, please. I’ll ring if I need you.”

  The door swung shut. Ana didn’t blink. She simply glared at him.

  Linc folded his arms. “Explain yourself.”

  “You have it wrong, senhor.You are the one who must do the explaining. To me. Or, if you prefer, to my father.”

  What in hell was she talking about? Better still, what was she doing here? The last he’d seen, she’d been pretending to be a dutiful daughter while her old man worked up the courage to offer her as a bride. In fact, Marques had been so caught up in the offer that he’d gone on talking even as Linc ran out the door that night.

  His gut knotted. Had he missed something? Agreed to something? Was that night about to bite him in the tail?

  “Because if you think I will not tell him how you have treated me—”

  “Sit down, Miss Marques.”

  He spoke sharply, his words slicing across hers. It worked. Not that she sat down. He hadn’t really expected that. But at least she shut up.

  Linc took the chair behind his desk, folded his hands on its glass surface and looked at her. How many Ana Marias were there? Three, so far. The sexy night-stalker. The demure innocent.And now this gorgeous sophisticate.

  Which was the real woman?

  “When you’re done mentally undressing me,” she said coldly, “perhaps we can get down to business.”

  Linc raised one dark eyebrow.

  “Trust me, Miss Marques. If I wanted to undress you, I wouldn’t be satisfied with doing it mentally.” He paused. “And neither would you.”

  A flush rose in her cheeks. “Would you force yourself on me again, senhor? As you did the night we met?”

  “Is that why you returned my kiss? Because I ‘forced’ myself on you?”

  “I did not return it. And I am not about to be drawn away from the topic at hand.”

  “What were you doing in that garden?”

  “I just said—”

  “Among other things, you blew past my best security system.”

  She smiled the way a cat might when confronted with a delectable mouse. “Indeed, I did.”

  Time to change direction. “Do you make it a habit to sneak around at night?”

  “Do you make it a habit to force yourself on women?”

  Back to the beginning. Linc sighed. “Let’s move on, Miss Marques. What are you doing here?”

  “I am here because of the promise you made my father Have you conveniently forgotten? Or did you hope I would not wish to follow through on it? Is that the game?”

  Calmer now, Linc decided this couldn’t concern a marriage proposal. Her father would be with her if it were. Still, he had no idea what she was talking about but only a fool would have admitted it. Instead, he sat back and flashed a cool smile.

  “Why don’t you tell me, Miss Marques? You seem to have all the answers.”

  He was afraid it sounded like a desperate ploy but it worked. A moment’s hesitation and then she marched to one of the chairs in front of his desk, sat down, crossed her legs and propped the attaché case in her lap. The pencil-slim skirt of her black suit rode up her golden thighs.

  “My father asked a favor of you.”

  Linc dragged his gaze to her face.

  “Funny. I don’t remember him asking anything—but then,” he said, his tone hardening, “you seem to have forgotten that I left your home in a rush that night.”

  Another splash of color swept across her high cheek-bones. “About that.” She cleared her throat. “I should have offered you my sympathy on the loss of your sister.”

  “Thank you.”

  Ana narrowed her eyes. The words were polite but she knew what this arrogant bastardo really meant was, Go away. Anyone viewing the scene would have thought she’d materialized out of the air instead of taking the elevator from Human Resources, two floors below.

  Was he playing dumb? Could he really not know why she was so angry? He knew. He had to. He also knew damned well that he’d lied. That he’d said yes to her father only to placate him and had never, not in a million years, expected her to show up in New York.

  If only Papa had never asked him.

  She’d considered telling him not to, once she’d realized the man who’d forced his kisses on her that night was the man he was going to entrust her to, but how could she?

  She’d worked a minor miracle, convinced Papa to let her take a stab at a career in New York, the city where all things were possible. She could have gone off without his approval, yes, but she knew her desire for independence pained him. She wanted to do it without hurting him, and she had.

  After months of talk, Papa had finally agreed to let her go, but only if he hand-picked her employer.

  “A good man,” he had said. “An honorable one with a successful business.”

  Papa knew lots of good, honorable men who were successful. They were also middle-aged, overweight and balding. That was the kind of man she’d expected.

  Instead, Papa’s selection had turned out to be Lincoln Aldridge. Tall. Dark. Not middle-aged, not overweight, not balding.

  Lincoln Aldridge was a magnificent male specimen.

  He was also a sexist pig who’d overpowered her, forced her into his arms, forced his kisses on her, forced her to melt against him and yearn, plead, burn for him to do more, more, more…

  Nonsense.

  It hadn’t been like that. She had been offended by his behavior and she would have told Papa the ugly truth about the good, honorable Senhor Aldridge, but Aldridge had gotten that terrible phone call about his sister.

  After that, Ana had assumed Papa’s plan was done with. Then, last week, he’d showed her the letter he’d written and Aldridge’s response…

  “Miss Marques?”

  He was watching her through amazingly g
reen eyes, looking at her as if she were little more than an annoyance. The hell with that, she thought coldly, and lifted her chin.

  “Yes, senhor.”

  “I am a busy man, Miss Marques. I don’t have time for nonsense.”

  “A promise is not nonsense.”

  “I promised your father nothing,” he said briskly.

  “Not then, no. But he sent you a letter.”

  A scowl crossed Aldridge’s too-handsome-for-his-own-good face.

  “A letter?”

  “A proposal, to which you replied.”

  He turned pale. Proof, as if she’d needed any, that he had been lying.

  “Your father made no proposal,” he said. “And if he had, I surely would not have said—”

  “You said yes.”

  “Impossible.”

  “You said that you would give me a try.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “You said you could promise nothing but that if I showed any talent, you would personally help cultivate it.”

  He turned even paler. Good. This was what happened when you trapped a liar with his own lies.

  “Miss Marques. I could never have said any such thing about—about your talent. And I cannot imagine your father would have agreed to—to such an arrangement.”

  “He didn’t want to, but I explained that a—what do you call it?—a period of trial is not North American, it is universal. Should my performance not prove adequate—”

  “For God’s sake, Miss Marques—”

  “Should it not, I would not expect you to keep me on. But I can assure you, señhor, I am a quick student. I have a degree in business.”

  He was looking at her as if one of them had gone crazy. Ana frowned. Was it possible Lincoln Aldridge wasn’t lying? Could he really know nothing of the employment offer he’d made in response to Papa’s request?

  No. It was not possible. He had sent that letter. Of course. The letter! Ana opened her attaché case and plucked two sheets of paper from its depths.

  “What’s that?”

  “Something to refresh your memory.”

  She leaned forward and sent both pages sailing across the expanse of glass that separated them. He stopped their progress with his hand and stared at her for what seemed forever. She was almost out of patience when he finally began to read.

  And laugh.

  Laugh! This horrible man was laughing at her.

  Ana wanted to fling herself across the desk and claw at his eyes. She had come almost five thousand miles. Her plane had landed late so that she’d barely had time to drop her luggage at the hotel and change her clothes before coming here. She’d gone straight to Human Resources, pinned on her best smile, tried to ignore the way her knees kept threatening to knock together…

  And found nobody expecting her.

  Not the receptionist. Not the manager she’d demanded to see. Not anyone, including this—this oaf sitting across from her, laughing as if he were at the funniest show in the world.

  To hell with wanting to claw his eyes. Ana sprang to her feet with every intention of doing it.

  “You—you—”

  He looked up, not just laughing but guffawing.

  “Tu es um porco,” she snarled as she flew around the desk. He shot from his chair, caught her wrists as she went for him…

  His laughter died. What he wanted now burned flame-bright in his eyes.

  “No,” she said. “Damn you, no!”

  He pulled her hard against him and kissed her.

  The kiss scalded her; his heart thudded against hers. He swept his hand down her spine, cupped her bottom, brought her body tightly to his. His tongue penetrated her mouth.

  It was a macho display of power, of arrogance, of all the things Ana despised…and none of that mattered. She heard herself making little cries. Soft, desperate sounds of desire. Her arms wound around his neck; her hair tumbled free as he tore the pins from it.

  His hands molded her hips.

  He lifted her. Something crashed to the floor as he sat her on the edge of the desk. Her thighs parted in welcome as he stepped between them. She was hot. Burning hot. And she wanted—she wanted…

  “Mr. Aldridge?”

  He spun around, blocking her from view, but it was too late. His PA had already seen them.

  “Oh. Oh, good grief, Mr. Aldridge!”

  The PA’s shocked face vanished. The door closed. And Ana wanted to die.

  She slipped down from the desk, pushed her hair away from her face with trembling hands. Smoothed down her jacket. Her skirt. Somehow, she’d lost one shoe. Oh, God, she’d lost a shoe…

  “Here.”

  She looked up at the gruff sound of Aldridge’s voice. Her shoe was in his hand. She grabbed it, thrust it on her foot.

  She was a shaken mess. And he—he looked as if nothing had happened. Every strand of his dark, close-cropped hair was in place. His tie was neatly aligned. His suit jacket was uncreased. Only a glitter in his eyes suggested anything out of the ordinary had happened, though she doubted if this was out of the ordinary.

  Lincoln Aldridge was a man who surely had many women in his life and took pleasure when and where he pleased.

  She knew all about men like him. You couldn’t grow up in Brazil, no matter how sheltered your existence, and not know. It was a man’s world. Now she knew it was like that in the States, too.

  Just as well Aldridge had decided to pretend ignorance of why she was here. Even if he’d offered her a job, she wouldn’t take it.

  Ana stepped back. Carefully, she picked up her attaché case. The letters—one from her father, thanking Aldridge for his generosity in offering her a position with his firm, the other Aldridge’s response, requesting she show up for an interview today—were still on his desk.

  Let them stay there. She never wanted to see them again.

  She would give up the foolish idea of the career for which she had been trained, go home, let her father do what he’d wanted all along and find her a suitable husband—

  “Miss Marques.”

  The hell she would. Ana straightened her shoulders and strode to the door. She would not let this one man defeat her. She’d stay in New York, take any job she could get and prove, once and for all, that a woman could succeed without becoming a man’s property.

  “Miss Marques! Ana. Wait.”

  She had her hand on the knob but she paused. She would not let this—this idiot write her off as a coward. She would make her exit with dignity.

  His hand fell lightly on her shoulder.

  She jerked away and spun toward him. At least he had stopped laughing.

  “I am happy to have provided you with so much amusement.”

  Her English had lost the fluidity she’d worked so hard to achieve but so what? There was no reason to impress Lincoln Aldridge with anything except the fact that he could not rattle her.

  “Ana.”

  He ran a hand through his hair. He looked—what was the word? Contrite. She didn’t believe it, not for a moment.

  “Ana.” He drew a deep breath, slowly expelled it. “There’s been a mistake.”

  “There most certainly has.”

  Her voice could have turned water to ice. Linc couldn’t blame her. She’d been right about why she was here and he’d been wrong. As for the kiss…a moment of hubris, that was all. He’d never kissed a woman in anger before but there was a first time for everything. Anyway, the kiss didn’t require an explanation.

  The rest of it did.

  “That letter your father sent—” He paused. “I never saw it. It’s true,” he added quickly, when her eyes narrowed. “Because of what happened to my sister, I had to turn some things over to others the last couple of months. Somehow, that letter ended up on the wrong desk.”

  “You replied to it.”

  Linc shook his head. “One of my people did. Obviously he recognized your father’s name and assumed we’d grant his request as a courtesy.”

  “Wh
atever,” she said, as if it didn’t matter when it surely did. “My father should not have requested a favor from you. I do not need favors.”

  A lie, big-time. Linc knew it. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “Then why did you come here?”

  “I came for a job. I certainly did not come here to be laughed at.”

  “I wasn’t laughing at you, senhora. I was laughing because I misunderstood what your father…” No, Linc decided. Better not to go there. What he needed was a way out of this mess, one that wouldn’t insult her or her father. “You say you have a degree in business?”

  “That is correct.”

  “Can you, uh, can you type?”

  She drilled him with a look.

  “Okay. I know that sounds sexist but entry-level jobs…” He paused. “We don’t have anything here but let me call around. Maybe I can find something.”

  “I told you, I want no favors from you. I will find a position elsewhere.”

  “This is New York. Good jobs are tight. If I can come up with something—”

  “Goodbye, Senhor Aldridge.”

  Linc’s mouth thinned. Fine. Let the lady take her expensive outfit, her attaché case and her attitude and hit the streets with the thousands of other well-dressed, well-educated hopefuls dreaming of careers.

  With luck, she’d end up waiting on tables—which might do wonders for her overblown ego.

  He folded his arms as she yanked the door open… and raised his eyebrows as his PA almost fell through it, holding a squalling Jennifer in her arms.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” she said desperately, “but the baby—”

  She held the baby toward him. Linc looked around, as if he hoped Mary Poppins might suddenly materialize. Then he took the baby and held her as if she were an alien life form.

  The baby’s screams increased.

  “Did you phone the nanny agency?” he said, raising his voice over the din.

  “They said maybe tomorrow.”

  Shock sent his eyebrows climbing again. “Tomorrow?”

  “Or Monday. They weren’t hopeful. They said nobody ever seems to suit you and—”

  Ana Maria Marques clucked her tongue and held out her arms. “Give the poor bébe to me!”

  It was a command, not a request. Linc didn’t argue. He handed his niece over.