Wedding Date with Mr Wrong. Nicola Marsh

      ‘Someone I know,’ he finished lamely, trying his signature charming grin for good measure.

      Her lips merely compressed further as she swivelled away and strode to her desk. Not so bad, considering he got the opportunity to watch expensive linen shift over that memorable butt.

      Damn, he loved her curves. He’d seen his fair share of bikini babes over the years—an occupational hazard and one he appreciated—but the way Callie had filled out a swimsuit?

      Unforgettable.

      She sat behind her desk, glaring at him as if she could read his mind. She waved at the chair opposite and he sat, thrown by her reaction. Acting professional was one thing. The ice princess act she had going on was losing appeal fast.

      ‘Our fling wasn’t relevant to our business dealings so I didn’t say anything—particularly after how things ended.’

      She eyeballed him, daring him to disagree. Wisely, he kept mute, interested to see where she was going with this.

      ‘I tendered for your account without knowing you were behind the company.’

      Her next sign of anything less than cool poise was when she absentmindedly tapped the space bar on her laptop with a thumb.

      ‘When we started corresponding and worked well together, I didn’t want to complicate matters.’

      ‘Complicate them how?’

      A faint pink stained her cheeks. Oh, yeah, this was starting to get real interesting.

      ‘What do you want me to say? Any shared past tends to complicate things.’

      ‘Only if you let it.’ He hooked his hands behind his head, enjoying the battle gleam in her eyes. At last the fiery woman he knew was coming out to fight. ‘Don’t know about you, but I don’t let anything interfere with my career.’

      ‘Like I didn’t know that,’ she muttered, and he had the grace to acknowledge a twinge of regret.

      He’d used his burgeoning surfing career to end it in Capri. It had seemed as good as excuse as any. He might as well live down to the reputation his family had tarred him with. Anything was better than telling her the truth.

      ‘Is this going to be a problem for you?’

      He threw it out there, half expecting her to say yes, hoping she’d say no.

      He wasn’t disappointed to see her—far from it. And the fact they’d have to spend time together in Torquay to get the marketing campaign for the surf school off the ground was a massive bonus.

      Torquay... Wedding...

      It was like a wave crashing over him. He floated the solution to another problem.

      They’d have to spend time in Torquay for business.

      He had to spend time with his overzealous family at Trav’s wedding.

      He had to find a date.

      A bona fide city girl who’d act as a buffer between him and his family.

      Lucky for him, he was looking straight at her.

      Not that he’d let her know yet. He needed her expertise for this account, and by her less than welcoming reaction he’d be hard-pressed getting her to Torquay in the first place without scaring her away completely.

      Yeah, he’d keep that little gem for later.

      Her brows furrowed. ‘What’s with the smug grin?’

      He leaned forward and nudged the laptop between them out of the way. ‘You want this latest account?’

      She nodded, a flicker of something bordering on fear in her eyes. It might make him callous, but he could work with fear. Fear meant she was probably scared of losing his lucrative business. Fear meant she might agree to accompany him to Torquay even if she had been giving him the ice treatment ever since she’d set foot in the office.

      ‘You know this campaign will mean spending loads of one-on-one time together on the school site down at Torquay?’

      Her clenched jaw made him want to laugh out loud. ‘Why? I’ve always worked solo before. and as you can attest the results have been great.’

      If she expected him to back down, she’d better think again. He’d get her to accompany him to Torquay by any means necessary—including using the campaign as blackmail.

      Feigning disappointment, he shook his head. ‘Sorry, a remote marketing manager won’t cut it this time. I’ll need you to shadow me to get a feel for the vibe I’m trying to capture with the school. The kids won’t go for it otherwise.’

      Her steely glare could have sliced him in two. ‘For how long?’

      ‘One week.’

      She sucked in a breath, her nose wrinkling in distaste, and he bit back a laugh.

      ‘From your previous work I’m sure you want to do this campaign justice and that’s what it’s going to take. You can be home in time to celebrate Christmas Day.’

      Appealing to her professional pride was a master touch. She couldn’t say no.

      ‘Fine. I’ll do it,’ she muttered, her teeth clenching so hard he was surprised he didn’t hear a crack.

      ‘There’s just one more thing.’ Unable to resist teasing her, he twisted a sleek strand of silky brown hair around his finger. ‘We’ll be cohabiting.’

      CHAPTER TWO

      CALLIE stared at Archer in disbelief.

      The cocky charmer was blackmailing her.

      As if she’d let him get away with that.

      She folded her arms, sat back, and pinned him with a disbelieving glare. ‘Never thought I’d see the day hotshot Archer Flett resorted to blackmail to get a woman to shack up with him.’

      His eyes sparked with admiration and she stiffened. She didn’t want to remember how he’d looked at her in a similar way during their week in Capri, his expression indulgent, bordering on doting.

      As if. He’d bolted all the same, admiration or not, and she’d do well to remember it.

      For, as much as she’d like to tell him where he could stick his business contract, she needed the money.

      ‘Blackmail sounds rather harsh.’ He braced his forearms on her desk and leaned forward, immediately shrinking the space between them and making her breath catch. ‘A bit of gentle persuasion sounds much more civilised.’

      That voice... It could coax Virgins Anonymous into revoking their membership. Deep, masculine, with a hint of gravel undertone—enough to give Sean Connery healthy competition.

      There was nothing gentle about Archer’s persuasion. If he decided to turn on the full arsenal of his charm she didn’t stand a chance, even after all this time.

      That irked the most. Eight long years during which she’d deliberately eradicated his memory, had moved on, had dealt with her feelings for him to the extent where she could handle his online marketing without flinching every time she saw his picture or received an e-mail.

      Gone in an instant—wiped just like that. Courtesy of his bedroom voice, his loaded stare and irresistible charm.

      ‘Besides, living together for the week is logical. My house has plenty of room and we’ll be working on the campaign 24/7. It’s sound business sense.’

      Damn him. He was right.

      She could achieve a lot more in seven days without factoring in travel time—especially when she had no clue where his house was or its vicinity to Torquay.

      However, acknowledging that his stipulation made sense and liking it were worlds apart.

      ‘You