The Billioniare's Bought Bride (Contemporary Romance)

by Michele Dunaway

  Chemistry. Dylan could turn it on and off like a Bunsen burner. He’d kissed her senseless and left her quaking. She’d been willing putty in his expert hands.

  Shameful. All he had to do was touch her.

  She went inside and stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling front windows. Paint peeled on the window ledge, and outside dead blooms from seasons ago decayed in rotting window boxes. The bow and stern lights of Dylan’s motorboat became visible, and she tracked the craft all the way to North Star Island where, inside the cottage, lights soon flickered.

  Maddy turned from the window. He’d once been her hero. He’d been her fantasy. All they had now was chemistry.

  How far she’d fallen.

  Chapter Five

  “You do know you’re the luckiest woman in the world.”

  Maddy gazed at herself in the tri-fold mirror. She stood on a box, and the twenty-year old seamstress’s assistant pinning the hem for her wedding gown. She didn’t feel very lucky. In five days, she’d be Mrs. Dylan Blackwater.

  Not that the gown wasn’t beautiful. While Dylan had told her she could have any designer creation she wanted, Cindy, Aunt Gail’s housekeeper, had recommended a personal friend’s store, and the resulting strapless gown was stunning. Maddy had opted for simplicity, and the silky fabric hugged her figure. The dress V’d at her breasts, and a one-inch strip of tiny beads was the only adornment. No bustle. No crinoline. “You’ll be beautiful,” the girl said. She rose. “Let me get Renee.”

  Maddy turned slowly, admiring the view. Then melancholy fell. She’d said yes to Dylan on July 14. Bastille Day. Only the twenty-eighth, she’d be married.

  Two weeks.

  Not that anyone else seemed to mind. They’d become social darlings. The Smiths had even thrown them an impromptu engagement party last night. Dylan had spent most of it huddled with Forrest, discussing business.

  She sighed. She’d hardly seen Dylan alone since the night she’d said yes. She shouldn’t mind. She should be ecstatic that he was constantly gone, often off North Star Island before she even woke up.

  They’d marry, and then on the Monday, the thirtieth, she’d deliver the check to the county. Although repairs had begun on Summerhaven, the taxes remained unpaid until she said, “I do.”

  “Ah, that looks perfect,” Renee said entering. “You’ll be a perfect bride.”

  Maddy smiled, her Johansson upbringing giving her much needed poise. “Thank you.”

  “Anytime. You’re going to have the best life. I just know it.”

  Somehow Maddy managed to not say another word.

  Five days later, despite being hot, the weather was sunny and cloud-free. The wedding coordinator made certain everything was perfect, and all sixteen rows of wooden pews in the one-room church were full. Sunlight streamed through stained glass windows almost a century old.

  No one appeared to mind that the air conditioning and ceiling fans did little to cool the room. All were focused on what they believed was a fairy-tale ceremony unfolding in the front.

  “Ready?” The coordinator asked.

  “As I’ll ever be,” Maddy replied. That morning a stylist had swept her blond hair onto the top of her head, letting ringlets curl in front of her ears. Instead of the traditional veil, small white flowers were woven into her coiffure. She’d also been buffed, polished, and made over by a professional make up artist.

  “You look pale. Are you okay?” the wedding coordinator asked.

  Maddy stood in the narthex. She could hear the organ playing, and as soon as the doors opened, she’d walk down the aisle. She pressed the bridal bouquet to her stomach. “Last minute nerves. I’m fine.”

  The woman looked relieved. “Good. Because he’s waiting and if I do say so myself, he’s handsome.” She reached and opened the doors.

  Her foot wobbled on the inch heel, and then Maddy found her footing. She stepped onto the white runner unaccompanied and unattended, for there wasn’t anyone. When Maddy had called Ted to tell him about her marriage, he’d uttered some cruel things about Dylan and flat out refused to attend. Her best friend had a new baby and lived in Seattle. This was her fairytale wedding, and it was all a farce. No need to drag anyone else into it. It was bad enough Aunt Gail believed.

  Maddy walked forward, the steps to her fate passing quickly. Dylan waited on the right side of the altar, and a lump formed in her throat. The tux fit him perfectly. But none of this was real. Not even his smile, which didn’t reach his eyes as she came to stand in front of him. Maddy faced the preacher, who began, “Dearly beloved….”

  The rest of the ceremony, until the words “I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride,” were a blur. She’d performed by rote, the Johansson upbringing teaching her to survive anything.

  “You may kiss the bride,” the preacher repeated, and Maddy made the requisite turn to face the man who was now, officially in the eyes of the law and the world, her husband.

  Maddy braved a smile and braced herself. The kiss the night of their engagement had been earth shattering, a drugging moment when time had stood still and worries forgotten.

  But today, Dylan’s lips pressed against hers for a mere millisecond, and then his feather-light kiss ended. The fire, lit inside Maddy even at that brief touch, flickered out and died quickly, remind her that, like her marriage, even chemistry they shared might only be a farce.

  The wedding guests clapped their approval as the preacher introduced them as Mr. and Mrs. Dylan Blackwater. Dylan linked his arm through hers and they stepped into the aisle. In the front row, Aunt Gail wiped a tear from her eye and rose to her feet as Maddy and Dylan approached.

  “I’m so glad you did this quickly,” Aunt Gail wiped away another tear. “It was beautiful. Absolutely lovely, and I wouldn’t have wanted to miss it. Dylan, you’ve met Jonathan, haven’t you? He’s come to take me back to St. Louis for the winter, you know.”

  Dylan shook hands with Aunt Gail’s son. “It’s unfortunate you can’t stay through Labor Day this year,” Dylan told Aunt Gail. “It’s unusual for you to leave this early, isn’t it?”

  Aunt Gail patted Dylan’s hand. “Oh no, I’ve left in August before. This is the first time I’ve left in July, but it works out best for everyone. Besides, you two should have space to yourselves. It’s a shame Ted couldn’t come. I would have liked to have seen my nephew.”

  “Yes, it’s a shame Ted couldn’t make it,” Maddy managed with a straight face as Aunt Gail exited the pew. “But Dylan’s parents were also unable to attend. They’re on a cruise out of the country.”

  “They’ve probably just landed in New York,” he said.

  It still bothered her that he hadn’t wanted to wait, but he’d wanted them married before paying the taxes. Maddy wondered also if he didn’t want them to witness the charade.

  “We’re having a small reception at Summerhaven,” Dylan announced to the waiting guests. “Please join us for cake and champagne.”

  Madison followed her husband to an awaiting limousine. As she entered the cool interior, she felt lightheaded. The ten-degree difference of the limo had her shivering.

  “Are you all right?” Dylan asked. The seat gave under his weight.

  “I’m fine. The church was a little overheated.”

  It was draining, marrying without love. As the limo began to make the five-mile journey up highway 84 to Summerhaven, Maddy leaned back against the black leather and closed her eyes, deliberately shutting out the stranger who sat beside her.

  “If it helps, think about taking the check in on Monday. You’ll wipe the smirk completely off the woman’s face.”

  “That is one benefit,” she murmured. The limo crunched over gravel, indicating they’d reached Summerhaven, and Madison opened her eyes. A team of contractors had worked nonstop for two weeks, twenty-four hours a day. They’d accomplished miracles.

  “Like it?” His voice cut through the stillness that had settled between them.

  “It’s wonderf
ul,” she replied, for it was. She’d been on site everyday and Summerhaven had never looked better. Well-maintained and manicured lawns and gardens circled the lodge. Everything was again the way her grandfather had always insisted, right down to the red impatiens blooming in the refurbished window boxes.

  Dylan helped her out of the limo as the parade of cars came to a halt behind them. Magic had occurred inside as well. Wood floors gleamed from being sanded and stained. Furniture and paneling had been refinished or repainted, and thermal replacement windows provided a crystal clear view of the lake. New ceiling fans circled overhead, creating a steady breeze that kept the cavernous space extremely comfortable.

  No detail had been missed, and the floor-to-ceiling pinkish fireplace stones sported fresh grout. All around guests oohed and ahhed over the changes and complimented Maddy on how wonderful everything was.

  “Fantastic,” Forrest Smith said as he approached them. “Dylan, you are a man of action. I do think I’d like to take a look at that proposal. Have your people send it over next week. I’ll call and let Clayton know it’s coming.”

  “I’ll do that,” Dylan said.

  “Proposal?” Maddy asked after Forrest and his wife moved off.

  “He’s interested in bank rolling a project I’ve got going,” Dylan replied. “I believe it’s time we should cut the cake.”

  He cupped her elbow gently, guiding her to the table. The tiered white wedding cake was topped with fresh flowers and white cream frosting. Expectant faces watched as Maddy reached for the silver knife. A camera flash blinded and Maddy was struck with the surreal feel of it all—such a waste for something that was simply a business deal.

  “Okay, put your hand on hers and smile for a photograph.”

  Dutifully she followed the photographer’s orders. Her finger still wasn’t accustomed to the solitaire Dylan had given her at the country club, much less the massive diamond-studded ring guard serving as a very expensive wedding band. As she held the knife, Dylan’s warm palm covered hers, sending an infusion of heat coursing through her skin. Desire flared through her, and she jerked her hand forward, slashing the knife through the cake at an odd angle. “Oops.” She forced a laugh.

  “I guess I’ll have to keep better control,” Dylan said, his voice husky. Maddy paused. Had he been as affected as she?

  “Smash it,” someone jokingly called out after she’d finished cutting, but instead Maddy scooped the required piece into her fingers and placed the cake gently into Dylan’s open mouth.

  His gaze locked onto hers, and suddenly his lips closed to caress her withdrawing fingers, suckling her skin. Maddy’s eyelids fluttered down and she struggled to contain her body’s reaction. Lord help her, but he could turn his sexuality on and off like a switch. Guests clapped and Madison pulled her hand away. But the moment wasn’t finished.

  Her turn.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  At that moment Maddy knew she’d never be ready for Dylan Blackwater. He was worldly; she was naïve. He was a man who not only could defeat her grandfather, but he could also dominate her with one smoldering look.

  She had to be transparent. Every conflicting emotion had to be written on her face.

  “Open wide, darling,” he teased, and mutely she obeyed, conscious of the crowd. As he placed a small piece of cake in her mouth, Maddy’s emotions ran rampant. Dylan rubbed his forefinger over her quivering lip before drawing away without any further innuendo. She swallowed the now dry bite of cake and washed the remnants down with champagne. Thankfully a wedding guest claimed his immediate attention.

  “I just love what you’ve done to the lodge,” someone told her seconds later, and Madison nodded, grateful for the diversion. The woman patted her on the arm. “You’re a lucky woman, Maddy.”

  She smiled through the irony.

  About an hour later after cake, guests began to leave. Dylan’s arm snaked around Maddy’s waist and together they bid the last of their guests farewell. Needing to finish packing, Aunt Gail and her son had already walked home.

  “I thought all our guest would never leave,” Dylan whispered huskily as the last car pulled away. The large room seemed to shrink to a fraction of its massive size.

  “Me either,” she admitted, detaching herself from Dylan and moving to the leather sofa. He could not decide to turn on the magnetism now. Sitting down, she removed the white two-inch designer heels from her aching feet. “It’s been a long day.”

  While she didn’t hear him approach, strong fingers began to knead her tense shoulder muscles. Pent-up stress faded under his addicting administrations, and unwanted desire took its place.

  “Really, you don’t need to…”

  “I like your hair like this.” Dylan interrupted, ignoring her protest. He expertly massaged a tight spot on her neck. “You look especially beautiful. Like some form of a woodland nymph. Or a princess.”

  “I’m neither.” Maddy discounted that latter term, which Dylan had referenced because of their past. She tried to lift her head, but he deepened his touch, tempting her with the mastery of his fingers. Tension ebbed away and Madison bent her chin to her chest as Dylan’s fingers continued their magic. She closed her eyes, letting the false security of the blackness come. Night wouldn’t be for a few more hours, although the sun dipped toward the western horizon.

  “I had the caterer leave an evening meal for us,” he said, his voice sounding distant. “It’s designed to be served cold so we can eat whenever.”

  “I’m not really hungry,” she answered without opening her eyes. “I’m just planning on going to bed.”

  “That sounds like a wonderful idea.” His breath tickled the skin under her ear, and his lips feather-touched the skin of her neck in the softest of kisses. The seductive sensation ricocheted through Maddy, and she opened her eyes and jumped up, barely avoiding hitting the coffee table in her attempt to get away.

  Her movement threw off his equilibrium, and he caught the back of the sofa with his left hand in order to keep from toppling over. He straightened, regained his poise, and frowned.

  Her chest heaved as she struggled for control of raging emotions. She couldn’t do this. Could she be any more pathetic? She should be able to control herself. But her body wanted to make love. Her body cried out for Dylan’s masterful touch, for the quenching of the heated fire raging through her like a wanton inferno. She was married. Lovemaking was something married couples enjoyed.

  But she couldn’t turn her emotions or sexuality on and off the way he could. Making love signified commitment of the heart and soul. She was married, but because she’d sold herself to save Summerhaven. She could not bear to lose her heart.

  Dylan Blackwater had been her grandfather’s nemesis. Dylan had wanted Maddy, and he’d set out to get her. Despite Summerhaven ’s new glory and security, too many skeletons existed to forget the facts in a slaking of lust. While Dylan had upheld his end of their deal, she couldn’t perform hers, not without feeling extremely cheap and tawdry afterwards. No matter how good the chemistry.

  “I think I would like some real food to eat,” she said, her actions a deliberate time out. “Shall I go get it?”

  Dylan opened his mouth, and then snapped it closed. He’d shed the tuxedo jacket and bow tie. He shrugged, the unbuttoned white tuxedo shirt providing a glimpse of his smooth, rock hard chest. “I’ll do it.”

  “Thank you.” Her bare footsteps fell on the refinished hardwood as she moved to the front windows and placed her hands on the glass. Before tonight the view of the mirror-still lake had never failed to provide repose; it had always been the one thing she could count on to bring peace.

  She heard a slightest rustle as Dylan returned with two covered plates. They sat across from each other and Maddy lifted her fork and sampled the cold chicken salad. She had eaten very little for lunch or during the reception, and she was hungry. Buttering a roll, she glanced at Dylan. “Do we need to get our things from North Star?”

  “I had
all our stuff moved over here. It’s our wedding night, Maddy. This is our home now.”

  She dropped her roll, which hit the floor with a thump and left a yellow smear of butter before stopping by the table leg.

  Dylan arched an eyebrow. “What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Is there a problem with sharing a bed? We are married.” He wiped his lips with his napkin.

  With the excuse of reaching for the roll, she dipped under the table. She wiped the floor with her napkin and put both the roll and napkin on her plate and pushed dinner away. She’s lost her appetite and her nerves stretched taut.

  “This is terribly cold-blooded,” Maddy burst out. “I never imagined my wedding night to be so business-like. I’ve sold my soul.”

  “To me, the devil,” Dylan said softly, his voice containing a husky undercurrent. His laugh sounded hollow and he shoved his plate away. A lock of black hair dropped across his forehead.

  “Yes. All I know is that when you touch me…”

  “You want me to stop.”

  “Yes.” No. She wanted something primal. She wanted heat. Sex. Coupling. But she couldn’t tell him that.

  “You’re lying.”

  “I…”

  His gaze bore into hers. “You want me. I can feel it every time we kiss. You have a body built for pleasure, Maddy, and I’m the guy who’s going to make you come until you scream.”

  His words excited her. “I’ll be screaming in pain.”

  “Again you insult me. I would never hurt you.” He frowned and his gaze narrowed. “Stop lying to yourself and denying what you feel. You tremble at my mere touch. I could kiss you and you’d be begging me within minutes to take you, begging for the release only I can give.”

  He was right. He was the one who could switch gears without flinching. Maddy was a Mack truck—impossible to stop on short notice. But pride dictate she fight, and so she stood and shoved her chair in. “I wouldn’t bet on that if I were you.”

  “Oh, but I already have, Maddy. I already have.”