Untamed Billionaires: Marriage: For Business or Pleasure? / Getting Red-Hot with the Rogue / One Night with the Rebel Billionaire. Элли Блейк

matter, it did.

      But he wouldn’t dwell on that. The old Britt was still there, under the fancy business suit and blonde-streaked hair; she’d just shown him with that magnificent temper bursting like a tropical thunderstorm.

      The old Britt wouldn’t agree to his proposal, while the career-focused woman in sky-high stilettos and a designer suit would if he presented it the right way.

      ‘Consider this a business transaction, a win-win situation for us both. Nothing more, nothing less.’

      He saw a flicker of interest flash across her face at his mention of business before her temper flared again.

      ‘You’re crazy! Stark raving mad!’

      She raked her hands through her immaculately blow-dried hair, sending it into the frizz he remembered. ‘What’s that expression Papa used to say? Sei pazzo, you’re crazy, that’s what you are.’

      His heart griped as it always did at the mention of his father.

      ‘You remember that?’

      All the fight drained out of her and she slumped back into the chair, deliciously defeated, and he yearned to sweep her into his arms and show her this deal was the perfect solution for them both.

      Raising wide blue eyes to stare at him in capitulation, she nodded.

      ‘I remember a lot of things.’

      He waited, captured by the deepening blue, by the emotions shifting like jacaranda blossoms floating on a spring breeze.

      He didn’t want to feel, certainly didn’t want to feel like this, damn it, but when she looked at him with remembrance clouding her eyes and a softening around her lush mouth all he could think about was how incredible she used to feel in his arms.

      He didn’t want to rehash the past, to taint this deal with emotion, but he couldn’t resist asking, ‘What do you remember?’

      Her tongue darted out to moisten her bottom lip, a simple, unaffected gesture that shot straight to his groin, nothing unaffected about his visceral reaction.

      ‘Like how we used to lie under that jacaranda tree down by the creek and stare up at the clouds and see who could make the craziest shape.’

      Her mouth softened some more and he stiffened, shocked by how much he wanted to ravage those lips.

      ‘Like the times you took me into Noosa on the back of your Harley and how we’d choose to picnic down in Noosaville rather than mix with the hobknobs on Hasting Street.’

      She gave up moistening her bottom lip in favour of worrying it and he clamped down on a groan.

      ‘Like how you’d look at me with stars in your eyes, as if I was the only woman for you.’

      She didn’t glance away as he expected her to, didn’t push him away when he swept her into his arms and crushed his mouth on hers.

      She tasted of lime and sugar, tart and sweet, and he knew she’d been guzzling sugar-cane juice as she used to. She’d been addicted to the stuff back then, just as he’d been addicted to her.

      He could never get enough of her and it looked as if nothing had changed as his tongue swept into her mouth, taunting, challenging, savouring her passionate response as she clung to him, her fingers tangling in his buttons as he pulled her flush against him.

      This deal was supposed to be purely business but as their kiss deepened to the point of no return he knew he was kidding himself.

      What he felt around Britt, how his blood fired when she was in his arms, had nothing to do with business and everything to do with earth-shattering pleasure.

      The moment Nick eased off the pressure to kiss his way across her cheek, Brittany froze.

      This was where taking a trip down memory lane got her: in the arms of the devil himself.

      He’d proposed the most ludicrous deal she’d ever heard in her life and what had she done?

      Let him kiss her. Again.

      Had responded to him. Again.

      She didn’t get this, any of it. Business was business but what he’d proposed was…was…well, it was just plain nuts.

      Marriage to Nick Mancini in exchange for her dream?

      She couldn’t entertain the thought for a second, let alone acknowledge the tiny voice that reminded her she’d do anything to achieve her goal.

      Well, marriage to Nick didn’t fall into the category of anything. It fell into the category of certifiable lunacy.

      He set her away from him, his glib smile at odds with the surprising tenderness in his eyes.

      ‘Well, I guess that proves being my wife wouldn’t be all bad.’

      She summoned her temper, needing it to anchor her threadbare control, that wavered the moment he mentioned the physical benefits to a possible marriage.

      ‘If you think I’d ever agree to your proposal, you’re mad.’

      He shrugged, stepped away.

      ‘Hey, I’m not the one who wants a promotion. Ball’s in your court, Red.’

      She hated hearing the nickname only he had ever called her trip from his tongue with familiarity. She hated the blunt truth of his casual statement even more.

      She did need this promotion. It was the only way to get closure on a past she’d rather forget.

      Studying him through narrowed eyes, she said, ‘Not that I’d contemplate your crazy scheme for one second, but if I did, what’s in it for you?’

      Something furtive, mysterious, shifted behind his steady stare before he blinked, eradicating the enigmatic emotion in an instant.

      ‘It’s time I married.’

      ‘Why?’

      Why now? Why me? was what she really wanted to ask, but she clamped down on the urge to blurt her questions.

      Why he was doing this? Why would he suggest something so outlandish when they shared nothing these days but a residual attraction based on old times’ sake?

      He shrugged and she hated his nonchalance in the face of something so important. She would’ve given everything she owned to be married to him once and now he’d reduced it to a cold, calculating business proposition that hurt way more than it should.

      ‘I’m expanding the business, building more hotels in key cities around the world, but overseas investors won’t take me seriously because of my age. They see a young, wealthy single guy and immediately think I’m a playboy dabbling in business for fun.’

      He rolled his shoulders, tilted his head from side to side to stretch his neck and she stifled the urge to massage it as she used to. He’d always had tense muscles after a hard day’s farm work, had relaxed under her soothing hands.

      Her palms tingled with the urge to reach out, stroke his tension away. So she balled her hands into fists and swallowed the unexpected lump in her throat. Damn memories.

      He rubbed the back of his neck absent-mindedly, oblivious to her irrational craving to do the same. ‘Marriage will give me respectability in their eyes, solidify my entry into wider business circles and open up a whole new investment pool.’

      She stared at him, so cool, so confident, admiring the powerful businessman he’d become, lamenting the loss of the bad boy who hadn’t given a toss what people thought of him.

      ‘That’s it?’

      He nodded, showed her his hands palm up as if he wasn’t hiding anything.

      ‘That’s it.’

      ‘Why me?’

      It had been bugging her since he’d first laid out his outlandish