The Hot-Blooded Groom. Emma Darcy

      Great hair. Lush wide mouth. Big dreamy eyes. A strong impression of warmth, which stayed with him as he left the podium, niggling at the bitterness his lawyer had stirred with the call about yet another change Kristen was demanding in the prenuptial agreement. His fiancée was fast dissipating any warmth he’d felt for her.

      As he sat down at the official table with the conference organisers, he reflected on the black irony of having thought he’d picked the ideal wife. Kristen Parrish had enough beauty and brains to meet his father’s criteria, plus a very stylish career as an interior decorator, which meant she wouldn’t be hanging on having a husband dance attendance all the time. She had a business of her own to run. Which suited Bryce just fine.

      The problem was, her sharp brain was proving to be one hell of a calculating machine, and Bryce fiercely resented the way she was manipulating the situation. Just one mention that he wanted a child, preferably within the first year of marriage, and she’d started using it as a bargaining chip to ensure she would always have funds to raise their child should the marriage fail. She was literally bleeding him for all she could get, and if it wasn’t for his father, he’d tell her to get lost.

      Then she’d probably sue him for breach of promise.

      And would he find anyone better?

      His gaze flicked to the woman in yellow and caught her looking at him. Her head instantly jerked away, thick dark lashes swept down, and her cheeks bloomed with heat. Quite an amazing blush. She had to be in her late twenties or early thirties, and very committed to a career to be here at this conference. Hardly the shy type. She wouldn’t be wearing yellow if she was shy.

      Her cheeks were still burning, lending even more vivid colour and warmth to her face. It was a very appealing, feminine face, finely boned, though not quite perfect with the slightly tip-tilted nose. Her hair drew his attention again, copper and corn colours tangled through a tousled riot of waves and curls, the thick mass of it falling from a centre parting and tumbling down over her shoulders. It looked…very touchable, unlike Kristen’s ice-blond sculptured bob.

      He wondered what the woman in yellow would be like in bed, then put a firm clamp on those thoughts.

      He’d made his bed.

      Besides, would the woman in yellow prove any different to Kristen when it came to the money angle?

      With a cynical shake of his head, Bryce reached for a glass of iced water. No point in getting heated about anyone he didn’t know…or Kristen’s greed.

      His forthcoming marriage was a done deal. Almost a done deal. He didn’t have the time to settle with someone else. The doctors had told him it was a miracle his father was still alive and they were using experimental drugs to treat his condition. Such risky medication held out no guarantees, and Bryce didn’t want to delay giving what peace of mind this marriage might bring, at least in the short term.

      No point in brooding over the outcome for himself, either. He’d flown to Vegas to hand out awards and get a feel of how the rank and file were dealing with the company products. His mission this morning was to listen and observe. Which he proceeded to do.

      First up was a panel who role-played selling the concepts of particular products to customers who have no idea how they would work in business, or that they even existed to be used. Bryce was favourably impressed by their understanding and the concise way they focused on customer needs to adopt and apply more profitable business practices.

      Next came a sample presentation to a company board level, delivered by a Business Development Manager from Sydney, Australia. The program noted that Sunny York had the enviable record of always achieving her quota of sales. Her…a woman? His interest piqued, Bryce waited curiously to assess why she was so successful.

      The conference organiser finished his patter on her, raised his arm in a welcoming gesture, and in a typically hyped-up voice, announced, ‘Miss Sunny York.’

      Up stood the woman in yellow!

      She had a smile on her face that would captivate and dazzle even the hardest-headed financial directors. And she was tall—six feet tall, Bryce estimated—and more than half of that height was taken up by the longest legs he’d ever seen on a woman. He couldn’t help watching them as she stepped up to the podium. Her skirt ended above her knees but it wasn’t a mini. It simply looked like a mini on those legs, and she wasn’t even wearing high-heels, just comfortable court shoes with enough of a heel to look elegant.

      His gaze travelled slowly upwards from her feet…what would it be like to have those long, shapely legs wrapped around him…the curvy cradle of her hips underneath him…plenty of cushion in those nicely rounded breasts, too…that mouth, so full-lipped and wide, made for sensual pleasure…and her hair tumbling everywhere.

      ‘Hi!’ She spread her smile and twinkling eyes around the audience, drawing everyone to her with a flow of warmth that sparked responding smiles. ‘I’m here to help you make money…and save money.’

      She had them in her hand from that very first delivery and didn’t let them go for one second in the whole forty minutes of her presentation. It didn’t feel like a hard-sell. She came over as concerned to serve the customer’s very best interests, her voice carrying a very natural charm, allied to a mobility of expression which was almost mesmerising. The line of logic she injected into selling sounded so simple and convincing, she left no doubt this was a winning move, and her own positive energy literally generated positive energy through the whole auditorium.

      Bryce found himself totally entranced.

      Even her Australian accent was endearing.

      Sunny…

      He could certainly do with a bit of that sun in his life. A lot of it. All of it. His stomach clenched as his mind skidded to Kristen. He didn’t want a cool-headed calculator. Taking her as his wife went against every grain in his entire body…and that very same body was craving what Sunny York might give him.

      His eyes feasted on her as she stepped down from the podium. He’d invite her to join him for lunch…test possibilities. Seize the day. Seize the night. A night with Sunny York would at least satisfy the compelling fantasies she’d been stirring, and if she was all she promised to be…

      The flash of a diamond on her left hand pulled the hot run of thoughts up with a jolt. Bryce stared at the ring that declared Sunny York was engaged to be married, committed to another man, whom she probably loved. Her whole performance demonstrated she put her heart into everything she did. Heart and soul.

      Bryce wasn’t used to feeling like a loser. It hit him hard, the sick hollowness following on the wild surge of excitement she had evoked in him. He sat back in his chair and grimly reviewed his options.

      He might be able to seduce her away from her fiancé. Inducements marched through his mind…powerful attractions for most women. But if he did win her like that…would he still want her?

      Give it up, man, he told himself savagely.

      Kristen was ready and willing…so long as he paid the price she demanded. Which he could well afford.

      Settle with her and be done with it.

      CHAPTER THREE

      SUNNY headed for the ground-floor casino, determined on having a showdown with Derek. He hadn’t come to the lunch—not even waiting outside the conference room to give her a courtesy comment on her presentation before skipping off—and he hadn’t shown for the last session, regardless of the fact that Bryce Templar had been giving out awards. His respect for the big man obviously hadn’t extended that far.

      She didn’t like the casino floor. The assault on her ears from countless bell-ringing slot machines was horrific. It was bad enough walking through it. Actually spending hours here was beyond her understanding. Having finally located the roulette tables, she scanned them for Derek and was frustrated at not finding him. Could he have gone to bed—the need for sleep catching up with him?

      Frowning, Sunny