Modern Romance May 2015 Books 1-8. Кейт Хьюит

sound left her lips. ‘Marriage. You’re actually talking about marriage—it’s not a sick joke?’ She scanned his face. ‘What planet do you live on?’

      ‘In private you can carry on hating me and to a large extent living your own life. Eighteen months, we decided, would suffice before we make our irreconcilable differences public—’

      ‘We...?’ Listening now simply because she couldn’t believe what he was saying, not because she was for one second buying into his crazy suggestion, she pulled the door she had opened closed with a loud, angry bang that shook the car. ‘What is this—proposal by committee?’

      Every little girl’s dream, Mari thought, repressing a sudden strong impulse to laugh, or was that cry?

      ‘I’ve had my legal people draw up a contract. It’s ready for your lawyer to look at.’

      He spoke as if everyone had a legal team waiting at the end of the phone. ‘I don’t have a lawyer. You’d be surprised by how many people in the real world don’t.’

      He ignored her sarcasm. ‘I suggest you get one before you sign up for this.’

      Mari took a deep breath. She had humoured him too long. ‘I’m not going to sign up for this—you’re mad,’ she said with total conviction. ‘Why the hell would you want to get married? Assuming that you haven’t decided I’m your soulmate.’

      ‘This is about damage limitation, not soulmates,’ he cut back, ignoring her sarcasm. ‘I have spent the weekend trying to repair the damage your stunt inflicted on a crucial business deal.’

      His comment stirred a memory. ‘The royal thing?’

      He tipped his head in acknowledgement. ‘Good, you know about it, so I don’t have to explain that the royal family are very nervous about scandal, especially the sexual kind that involves men getting women pregnant and deserting them.’

      ‘So you told them you didn’t know me.’

      An expression she could not quite read flickered across his face as he looked at her. ‘Strangely, you know, I feel I do, but no, the truth would not have worked. You were way too convincing, angel. I almost believed you myself except I think I might have remembered sleeping with you. No, this was a situation that required some creativity.’

      ‘Lies, you mean. Like the one when you said there were no strings to you paying for Mark’s treatment!’

      ‘No, I meant that if you refuse my proposal your brother’s treatment will still be funded. The two are not co-dependent.’

      ‘So why would I say yes without blackmail?’

      ‘Because you don’t want to be in my debt...’ His narrow-eyed scrutiny moved across her face. ‘The idea of that kills you, doesn’t it?’ This thing hung on her stiff-necked pride and his ability to keep his lust in check. This needed to stay business and he needed to retain control.

      ‘Yes!’ she flung back, hating him so much she could taste it.

      ‘Excellent... In that case you should probably know about us.’

       ‘About...?’

      ‘I gave us a history. We had a short passionate relationship, but there was a lovers’ falling-out—we can’t even remember what the fight was about now. We met up again not long ago by accident, we shared a night of passion, but we were both with other people by then and we went our separate ways. I had no idea you were pregnant until you appeared. Seeing you again has made me realise that you are the love of my life.’

      It was all delivered in the sort of deadpan tone that made a computerised voice sound animated. Mari looked at him, fascinated. ‘And they swallowed that?’

      ‘I lack your dramatic talent,’ he admitted drily. ‘There was no soul baring involved. The reality is they have as much time and money invested in this deal as I do and they are less concerned about me doing the right thing than me being seen to do the right thing.’

      ‘They sound as shallow as you.’

      ‘It’s called realism. You ought to try it some time.’

      ‘I can see a massive flaw in your plan—the baby—so do you expect me to walk around with a pillow shoved down my jumper, too?’

      ‘That won’t be necessary. We will be away on an extended honeymoon when you tragically lose the baby. It’s not something we want to talk about and people will respect that.’

      ‘You’ve thought of everything.’

      ‘If not, I’m pretty good at thinking on my feet.’

      ‘And modest with it,’ she snapped back waspishly.

      ‘So what do you say, Mari Jones? Eighteen months of your life, then afterwards slate clean and a financial settlement to ease your way back into your life? It’s negotiable but the figure I suggest is—’

      ‘No!’

      He watched as she chewed her plump lip, an abstracted expression on her face, before she settled back in her seat with a little sigh followed by a decisive nod as she looked at him.

      ‘Make it exactly what Mark’s treatment costs and you have a deal.’ She gave him a hard look.

      ‘That would amount to you throwing away several million pounds.’

      ‘I don’t care about the money.’

      ‘I assumed you would go away and think about it.’

      She gave a slightly wild-sounding laugh. ‘Thinking is the last thing I want to do! The only thing is...when you said this was business you wouldn’t expect me to—’

      ‘I have never had to pay for sex.’

      His eyes trained on the outline of her breasts where the nipples left an erotic imprint against the wet fabric of her shirt. Unable to fight the impulse, he reached across and pushed aside a strand of rain-darkened hair that clung to her cheek.

      The touch of his fingers on her skin made Mari tense; slowly she turned her head to look at him. The light contact felt like a brand at every point of contact and her skin tingled and burned.

      ‘Right, I’ll marry you but I won’t sleep with you.’

      A slow smile of satisfaction spread across his hawkish features. ‘In my experience it’s always a good idea to keep business and pleasure separate, but let’s not include it in the vows.’

      Mari flinched. Hearing him say vows made it seem more real. She felt as if she were living a recurrent childish nightmare of hers—she had stepped on a carousel that wouldn’t stop and let her off, it just carried on going round and round while she started screaming.

      His smile died as he said softly, ‘The next time maybe...?’

      She gave a bemused frown and shook her head, parroting in a flat voice, ‘Next time?’

      ‘Don’t all girls dream of the wedding dress?’

      ‘Not the groom?’

      ‘Let’s hope you find a man who hasn’t been put off the white-wedding thing by having been previously publicly humiliated by a wedding crasher. Oh, and while we are on the subject it’s not the best idea to start looking for Mr. Right or even a little light entertainment until after we have split up.’

      Struggling to hide her embarrassment behind an air of amused indifference, she shrugged and asked, ‘Is that in the small print?’

      He did not smile back, and there was a definite warning in his voice as he told her, ‘No, that part is in the big print. If it’s any comfort, you won’t be the only one condemned to eighteen months of celibacy.’

      What was eighteen months when you’d already done twenty-four years? she thought,