The Fiancee Charade. Darcy Maguire

to run my office and organise my life for me.’

      Jess darted a second look to the woman, then to Calahan. He sounded…as if he cared…as though he were nice.

      Calahan flung open the double doors.

      An office of conference room proportions lay before them. The impossibly large mahogany desk stood close to floor-to-ceiling windows that framed a magnificent vista of the city. A deep brown leather lounge sat to one side of Jess, pot plants, artworks and a bar to the other.

      He strode into the room and swung around to face her, the smile on his face like a schoolboy’s. ‘You like?’

      She bit her bottom lip, jerking her attention away from his too blue eyes, walking slowly into the room.

      Only in her wildest dreams could she imagine working in an office this amazing—with glorious views, lavish furniture, and so much space.

      She turned back to Calahan slowly, quelling the excitement rising in her belly, counting the stunts he had to have pulled, the clients he had to have stolen, the lives he’d wrecked to get this.

      ‘Over-compensating, are we?’ she blurted.

      He blinked, touching his jaw as though she’d slapped him.

      The doors closed behind her. Mrs Samuels?

      ‘Come on,’ she goaded, moving across to the windows, clamping down the response rising in her throat at the incredible view. ‘What are you saying with this? That you’ve got no talent, no personality, nothing to offer except a load of money?’

      Calahan crossed his arms over his formidable chest. ‘I know you’re here to be honest, but—’

      She lifted her chin, a bubble of excitement rising up in her chest because she’d hit home. ‘Are you feeling threatened?’ she lilted, narrowing her gaze.

      He shook his head. ‘No, not at all,’ he said easily, spreading his arms wide. ‘This is for the clients—to show them how successful this company is and highlighting all the talent I employ. I personally wouldn’t mind working in a six-foot-square cubicle.’

      Jess pursed her mouth tight. Sure. She was really meant to believe that? She stared out at Sydney, his formidable presence behind her giving her the impression she was hunting a tiger in his own jungle.

      She shouldn’t be here.

      She dragged in a deep breath and swung around. ‘So, how about we get started? Are you going to a meeting? Touring your workplace? What? I think it best if I just observe you.’

      ‘I thought we’d start right here.’ Calahan reduced the distance between them. ‘I figure I’ll run past you my modus operandi for getting the ladies, and you can tell me if I’m mucking it up.’

      Jess took a step backwards, pressing her back against the cool glass, her heart leaping into her throat. ‘What?’

      ‘I figure my whole approach might be wrong for attracting a serious relationship.’ He shrugged, as though he didn’t quite believe it could be. ‘But let’s run through it, and you can tell me if there’s anything not quite right, okay?’

      She opened her mouth, but the protests wouldn’t come. His stormy blue eyes were far too bright, his sexy kiss-me lips curving softly, his bearing far too confident. And he was getting far too close.

      ‘You have the most beautiful eyes,’ he murmured with all sincerity, and he moved even closer to her.

      She watched the space between them disappear, her pulse skittering. Role-playing? She was meant to endure his pick-up lines and charm? First-hand?

      Oh, gawd.

      ‘They called to me from across the room,’ he murmured softly, leaning down towards her.

      She could smell the softly spiced scent of his cologne, could feel the heat of his body emanating from him, could feel his words brush her neck, making spirals of sensation sizzle down her spine. ‘I—’

      He put an arm on the window above her and leant closer, staring into her eyes as though he wanted to drown in them, as though he could stay right where he was for ever.

      Her breath snagged in her throat, her heart thundering in her chest. What in heaven’s name was he doing to her?

      She hated men. Womanisers. Him.

      His gaze drifted down to her lips. ‘Say the words I want to hear,’ he murmured, his breath against her ear.

      Jess dragged in a breath, opening her mouth, willing her brain to work over the rush of heat through her veins. This guy was dangerous to every woman on the planet.

      His gaze drifted again to her lips, something glittering deep in his eyes, dark and dangerous.

      She moistened her lips instinctively, with only one thought spiralling through her mind.

      CHAPTER FOUR

      ALEX breathed in her sweet perfume, the scent of vanilla and cinnamon invading his senses like the allure of her lips.

      It would be just so easy to lean closer, to claim those full red lips that were just begging to be taken. He could feel it, just as he could feel her heart pounding in her chest, her short, shallow breaths, the fire in her eyes.

      Was it so easy to awaken a Women Against Womanisers’ heart to a man again…? Could she want him?

      The thought excited him, filled him, swept through him with a surety that he knew he could rely on. Maybe she hadn’t been romanced, appreciated and seduced by an expert…Maybe he personified everything she wanted in a man and she just hadn’t realised until now.

      ‘Say it,’ he whispered, almost touching the creamy smooth skin of her cheek with his lips.

      She dragged in a deep and shaky breath.

      He couldn’t help but smile. Did he really need to know anything other than this? It could be just a matter of fate or luck when it came to love…but this he had down to an art form.

      She raised her eyes to meet his, flickering with a hot intensity, and she placed her hands against his shirt, branding him.

      ‘I’ll tell you what you want to hear,’ she whispered, her breath on his neck. ‘Get your self-centred, self-important sloppy routine away from me.’

      She shoved him backward.

      He stood back. ‘What?’

      The cool air of his office licked around him like a rude awakening. He’d been so sure he had her. The signals had all been there—or was he just deluding himself because he’d wanted them to be?

      She wasn’t going to be easy. The thought rushed through him like liquid fire.

      He leant back against his desk, crossing his arms, kicking himself—because he was doing something wrong, something that chafed against her like rubbing fur the wrong way.

      ‘What was wrong with that?’ he asked, pushing down the stir in his loins. She was a consultant, not one of his women. All that mattered was what he could learn from her.

      ‘What was right?’ She straightened her clothes, staring at his plush carpet. ‘You came on all sex, as though you were God’s gift to the bedroom.’

      He crossed his arms over his chest. ‘And?’ He already knew that—couldn’t stop thinking about it, having her there, with him…

      ‘If you want sex—fine. If you want a woman to think of you as anything more than a hot tumble between the sheets then you have to get real.’

      He watched her hands smoothing down the fabric of her trousers, tracing the curve of her hips with a dubious fascination. ‘You think I’d be a hot tumble?’

      She shot him a cool look of disapproval. ‘I think you’re all sex and no substance.’