A Convenient Groom. Darcy Maguire

mouth as though the air would cool her mouth.

      How was she drinking the stuff straight? If she was out to get herself blind drunk she certainly was on the way.

      ‘And apparently he’s so rich…his family has social standing…somewhere…and he made it abundantly clear that I wasn’t…marriage material.’

      Jeez, the guy was a total jerk. Wasn’t it enough to break her heart? Did he have to drive what was left of her into the ground? ‘So…’ he offered cautiously.

      She lifted her chin, took another swig from the bottle and swayed. ‘So, I’m not his girlfriend any more.’

      He stiffened.

      She staggered forward, leaning against a chair. ‘I’m the only one now who’s a hopeless loser…I can’t find anyone who wants to marry me.’

      Joe ran a hand through his hair, his chest tight. This was the last place he’d expected to find he was needed. And she was the last person he expected to need him. ‘Riana—’

      She staggered across the room. ‘I thought I’d be fending off the proposals by now.’ She waved her arm around wildly. ‘But…apparently…I’m all right for a bit of fun but not—’

      Joe moved forward, his attention on all the cords, stands and equipment around the room. The last thing she needed was to be a damaged designer. ‘Hey, there’s nothing wrong with you.’

      She brandished the bottle, staring at him, her dark eyes blazing. ‘Yeah, right. Nothing. Then why am I alone again? Have you any idea how many boyfriends I’ve had?’

      He shook his head. He could imagine. She was beautiful. Not the cover model sort of beautiful, but the smooth-skinned, bright-eyed, sweet-faced sort of beautiful that made your loins ache and your blood heat.

      She stabbed the bottle of spirit towards him. ‘I don’t know either. I’ve lost count. It’s so depressing, isn’t it?’

      He shrugged casually, inching closer to her, around the spotlights. He needed to make her safe, before something else happened to her. ‘You weren’t dumped every time?’ he asked, more to make conversation than satisfy his curiosity. She couldn’t have been. Who in their right mind would want to dump her?

      ‘Course not,’ she slurred. ‘I dumped them before they could dump me.’ She glanced around her. ‘I can tell when they get that look in their eyes, when they’re lying to me,’ she whispered and lifted her chin defiantly. ‘And there’s no way I’d give them the satisfaction.’

      She took another swallow from the bottle and swayed dangerously close to one of the tripods he’d set up earlier for his cameras.

      Joe lunged forward and clasped her by the shoulders. She was softer than he’d imagined, her skin smooth and warm. Vulnerable.

      Something primitive lurched inside him.

      Joe shook off the sensation and propelled her over the cords to the carpeted steps of the platform, vividly aware of his hold on her.

      He clenched his jaw tight and guided her down to a safe landing, trying not to think about how sweet she smelled, of strawberries and vodka. Of how warm the bare skin of her shoulders was, under his hands that itched to explore her. Or how beautiful her dusky eyes were, staring up at him with an open expectation that made his chest tight. What could he say? ‘Steady on there.’

      He straightened her up on the step. Her clients would probably strut their outfits here for their family and friends. All happy and full of hope. Nothing like Riana was now.

      He sat down beside her as casually as he could manage. He had to get that bottle off her before she did something stupid. ‘I could do with a drink myself,’ he suggested lightly.

      ‘Here.’ She thrust the bottle at him and smiled. ‘I like to share, and I’d make a good wife…I’m pretty sure.’

      He took the bottle from her, ignoring the crazy lurch of excitement in the pit of his gut at her smile, at her warm body pressed beside his, of how close her full red lips were.

      Joe took a swig, breathed through the liquid fire sliding down his throat and tucked the bottle behind his leg, out of view. ‘Why marry me?’

      ‘Why not?’ She shrugged. ‘I figure, what the hell…If I can’t be anyone else’s wife, I’ll be yours.’

      Joe stared at her. Words escaped him. Not the sort of flattery he was after. ‘Right,’ he managed. ‘Okay.’

      She leant towards him. ‘You really want to know why?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Cause if you won’t have me,’ she whispered, staring up into his face, her eyes glistening. ‘No one will.’

      His chest tightened. Hell. Was he that bad? How could she have got an impression like that about him? He shifted on the step, looking towards the door.

      ‘Yep.’ She nodded. ‘You’re rude, obnoxious and awfully scruffy…’ She ran a hand down his coarse whiskers, shaking her head.

      His blood rushed hot through his body, her fingers leaving a trail of burning desire down his jaw. What was she doing to him?

      ‘I’m the bottom of the barrel?’ Joe asked slowly. Surely all those years in university and then working his way into a reasonable reputation for finely executed photographs had counted for something?

      She nodded earnestly. ‘Yep. Bottom-bottom.’

      Joe swallowed hard. ‘And why do you feel that you need a man in your life, a husband, to feel complete?’ he asked, cringing at his own idiocy. A bit of layman psychology wasn’t going to be enough for this situation, not in a long shot.

      She waved her hands in the air, tears brimming in her eyes. ‘Everyone knows that life isn’t the same if you don’t share it.’ She sagged against him as though the effort of talking had taken what was left of her energy, leaning her head on his shoulder. ‘Where’s the fun in doing stuff, movies, meals, places, if you don’t share it?’

      ‘True.’ He had to agree on that one. Sure, he wasn’t going looking for someone to marry but when you found the right person to fit comfortably into your life and share it with…

      Riana straightened. ‘So, will you share my life with me or will I have to go and find another bottle?’ She stared at her empty hands then looked around her. ‘Where’s my vodka?’

      ‘You don’t need more booze. It won’t solve anything.’

      ‘Huh. Says you.’ She dug around in the purse hanging off her shoulder as though she could find it in there.

      Joe’s gut tightened. ‘You know the stuff can kill you?’

      She shrugged, tipping her bag out, the contents spilling on to the floor. ‘What the hell, like it matters…’

      Joe stared at the scattered contents of her bag. She had enough make-up to start a small shop, plus a small can of hairspray, a couple of brushes, a mobile phone, loose change and receipts.

      His gaze stopped on her car keys, memories of his sister flooding his mind. A tough breakup, booze, tears and car keys…

      Raw grief sliced through him.

      Hell, there was no way he could sit by and let Riana do this to herself—he looked her in the eyes—not when he could do something about it.

      ‘Yes.’

      She swayed towards him, her finely arched eyebrows lifting. ‘What?’

      He sucked in a deep breath. ‘Yes.’

      Her brow creased. ‘Yes what?’

      Joe cupped her face with his hands and stared into her beautiful dark eyes, praying that this would make all the difference to her. ‘Yes, I will marry you.’

      She