The Wedding Contract. Nicola Marsh

stride towards a low-slung convertible, admiring his long legs and tight butt.

      He held the passenger door open for her and she slid into the seat, wondering how many other women he’d tried to impress with his gallant behaviour. Somehow, the thought of him wining and dining countless other women didn’t improve her mood. Not that she should care. Tonight was business, and the sooner she believed it, the better.

      ‘Figures,’ she said, settling into the comfortable leather seat and watching his long legs fold underneath the steering wheel.

      ‘Pardon?’ He started the car and pulled away from the kerb, his attention focused on the road ahead.

      Thank goodness he’d stopped staring at her. She couldn’t stand the way he’d looked at her as she sat down, probably wondering where she’d picked up the ridiculously short dress and why she was wearing it to an important meeting.

      ‘The car. It fits.’

      ‘Are you judging me?’ His voice was low, a warning that she trod on uneven ground.

      ‘So what if I am?’ Where had that come from? She was here to save her dad’s business, not shoot it down in flames.

      ‘You’ve got a smart mouth for a woman in no position to bait me. I’m supposed to be the bad guy, remember?’

      She tossed back her hair, wishing she’d had the sense to wear it up. How would she look by the time they made it to the restaurant after riding in an open-top? So much for appearing professional.

      Rather than backing down, she had a strange urge to match wits with him. ‘I’ve never kowtowed to any guy and I’m not about to start now, regardless of who you are.’

      ‘Trying to pick a fight with me won’t work,’ he said, hitting a button on the CD-player.

      In doing so, his fingers grazed her bare leg and she flinched, unprepared for the swift rush of longing for his hand to do a lot more than just brush against her. What was going on? She’d never reacted to a guy like this, especially one whose head would barely pass through an average-sized doorway.

      Serene rainforest sounds filled the car, in stark contrast to her simmering mood, and she wondered why an uptight lawyer would listen to music like this. Why did he annoy her so much? All he had to do was open his mouth and she aimed for his throat, wishing she could tear it out with her bare hands.

      ‘That’s better,’ she murmured, appreciating the soothing music. She meditated daily to a similar track, and its familiarity evoked an instant sense of calm.

      ‘You like this stuff?’

      She glanced across at him, noting the incredulity on his face. ‘Of course. It keeps me centred.’

      ‘Whatever that means.’

      She chuckled. ‘Something you’ll never figure out. Though you’ve surprised me. I thought your musical tastes would run more towards Bach…Mozart…You know, boring classical stuff.’

      ‘Still judging me, huh?’ He sounded amused rather than annoyed. ‘The CD came with the car. Oh, and in case you’re interested, I happen to prefer pop to classical stuff.’

      Somehow, she couldn’t imagine him bopping along to the latest beat and the thought made her smile. ‘I’m not interested. I’m only here to have dinner with you in the hope we can save the carnival.’

      ‘Speaking of dinner, let me guess. You’re a vegetarian too?’

      ‘And what’s wrong with that?’ She folded her arms, enjoying their banter yet wishing he would stop pushing her buttons.

      ‘Nothing. I should’ve asked before booking the restaurant. Sorry.’ Rather than sounding apologetic, he spoke like a man used to having his own way and expecting everyone around him to fit in.

      Her theatrical gasp overrode the muted bird sounds filtering from the speakers. ‘Was that an apology? I must be hearing things.’

      ‘Ha ha. A regular comedienne. Is there any end to your many talents?’

      ‘You’ll just have to wait and see.’ She averted her gaze from his strong hands splayed across the steering wheel and glanced out of the window in time to see the giant conglomerate that was trying to ruin her father’s business. Though she’d loved water slides as a child, she hated the way Water World had ruined the environment with its plastic monstrosities, rather than blending the park into the bush surrounds. And now they wanted to expand, bulldozing another part of the bush and her father’s business in the process.

      She sneaked a peek at the man who had the power to make it all happen. Though it went against the grain, perhaps she should be nice to him rather than antagonise him further?

      ‘I’m not a vegetarian,’ she ventured, thinking the statement lacked something as a peace offering but not wanting to give in to him too easily. ‘So when do we start discussing the carnival?’

      ‘I don’t talk business on an empty stomach,’ he said as he drove into Surfers Paradise and handed over the car to be valet-parked. Amber didn’t reply, and as she climbed out of the car she hoped that he didn’t expect her to make polite conversation over dinner. All she wanted to do was get this business completed as quickly as possible without complicating matters.

      For that was exactly what would happen if she spent too long in this guy’s company. She’d never met a man like him and he intrigued her, the way he wouldn’t back down. Usually, her forthright manner scared men off, but not this one. He seemed to thrive on it, a fact she liked way too much to be comfortable.

      ‘Hope you like seafood,’ he said as he guided her into a prominent Gold Coast hotel.

      ‘I love it,’ she responded, trying not to gawk at the elaborate foyer, with its huge crystal chandelier casting a muted glow over the cream and gold furnishings. Well-dressed patrons strolled through the lobby, some heading to the restaurant.

      ‘Be careful. Sounds like you might actually enjoy this evening.’ His teasing words did little to reassure her as she compared the elegant styles of the other ladies with her own out-of-date dress. She didn’t belong here, and the sooner she escaped, the better.

      ‘What’s wrong?’ He laid a hand on her arm and she found his touch strangely comforting.

      She glanced down at her dress, feeling like Cinderella without the fairy godmother and twice as ugly as the stepsisters. ‘I don’t fit in.’

      He placed his thumb under her chin and tilted her head up. ‘You look beautiful.’ His eyes darkened to pewter and sent her pulse-rate accelerating at a frightening speed. Though she knew she didn’t look it at that moment, she felt like a princess.

      Desire skittered across her nerve-endings as his thumb wandered up to lightly brush her bottom lip.

      ‘In fact, you’re the most stunning woman in this room. Now let’s order.’

      They followed the maÎtre d’ to a cosy table for two, shaded from the other diners by strategically placed palms. It overlooked the ocean, and the twinkling lights of the Surfers Paradise strip created the illusion of being suspended in air.

      This, combined with his compliment, which had rendered her speechless, meant she could scarcely concentrate on the menu.

      ‘See anything you fancy?’

      She looked up, biting back her first response concerning the man sitting opposite. ‘I’ll have the king prawns, please.’

      ‘Excellent choice.’ He placed their order with the waiter and handed her one of the delicate flutes that had just been filled. ‘How about champagne to celebrate?’

      He must be buttering her up for something, but she couldn’t figure out what. ‘To celebrate?’

      He clinked glasses with hers. ‘To the start of a long and prosperous relationship.’

      ‘For who?’