Wedding Date with Mr Wrong. Nicola Marsh

didn’t answer my question.’ His finger trailed along her hairline, skirting her temple, around her ear, lingering on the soft skin beneath it and she held her breath.

      He’d kissed her there many times, until she’d been mindless with wanting him.

      ‘That kiss you sprung on me in the car? Out of line. Business as usual this week. That’s it.’

      ‘Protesting much?’

      ‘Archer, don’t—’

      ‘Go on, admit it. We still share a spark.’

      His mouth eased into a wicked grin and she held up a hand to ward him off. ‘Doesn’t mean we’ll be doing anything about it.’

      She expected him to ask why. She expected him to undermine her rationale with charm. Instead he stopped touching her, a shadow skating across his eyes before he nodded.

      ‘You’re right; we’ve got a ton of work to do. Best we don’t get distracted.’

      ‘Sounds like a plan,’ she said, struggling to keep the disappointment out of her voice.

      But something must have alerted him to the raging indecisive battle she waged inside—flee or fling—because he added, ‘But once work is out of the way who knows what we’ll get up to?’

      She rolled her eyes, not dignifying him with a response, and his chuckles taunted her as she headed for the sanctity of her room.

      She needed space. She needed time out. She needed to remember why getting involved with a nomad charmer again was a bad idea.

      Because right now she was in danger of forgetting.

      * * *

      After what he’d been through with his family, Archer hated dishonesty.

      Which made what he was doing with Callie highly unpalatable. He needed to tell her about being his date for the wedding pronto.

      They’d arrived at the house three hours ago, and she’d made herself scarce on the pretext of unpacking and doing some last-minute research.

      He knew better.

      That impulsive kiss in the car might have been to prove a point but somewhere along the way it had morphed into something bigger than both of them.

      He’d been so damn angry at her perpetual iciness he’d wanted to shock the truth out of her: the spark was still there.

      Oh, it was there all right, and interestingly his little experiment had gone awry. He’d been shocked too.

      He’d asked her to accompany him here for work—and the wedding. Nothing more, nothing less.

      That kiss? Major reality check.

      For there was something between them—something latent and simmering, just waiting to ignite.

      Hell.

      Way to go with complicating matters.

      Best to take a step back and simplify—starting with divulging his addendum to her week-long stay.

      He knocked twice at her bedroom door. ‘Lunch is ready.’

      The door creaked open and she stuck her head around it. What did she think? He’d catch sight of the bed and want to ravish her on the spot?

      Hmmm...good point.

      ‘Raincheck?’

      He exhaled in exasperation. ‘I need my marketing manager in peak form, which means no skipping meals—no matter how distasteful you find my company.’

      ‘It’s not that.’ She blushed. ‘I tend to grab snatched meals whenever I remember, so I don’t do a sit-down lunch very often.’

      ‘Lucky for you we’re not sitting down.’ He snagged her hand, meeting the expected resistance when she pulled back. He tugged harder. ‘It’s no big deal, Cal. Fish and chips on the beach. You can have your head buried behind your computer again in thirty minutes.’