“Let me get this straight. You need a wife and think I fit the bill?” Her laughter bordered on hysterical. “I can see why you might think that. After all, we’ve got so much in common.”
He ignored her sarcasm and moved in for the kill, hitting her where she was most vulnerable.
“What about our attraction?” His low, husky voice rekindled the memory of his kisses, his hands and the desire that flowed between them, simmering beneath the surface. “Why not settle for respect, friendship and a sizzling sex life?”
Nicola Marsh says: “As a girl, I dreamed of being a journalist and traveling the world in search of the next big story. Luckily, I have had the opportunity to travel the world but my dream to write has never been far from my mind. When I met my own tall, dark and handsome hero and learned that romance is everything it’s cracked up to be, I finally took the plunge and put pen to paper.
“I live in the south-eastern suburbs of Melbourne with my husband and baby. When I’m not writing, I work as a physiotherapist for a vocational rehabilitation company, helping people with disabilities return to the workforce. I also love sharing fine food and wine with friends and family, going to the movies and—my favourite—curling up in front of the fire with a good book.”
The Wedding Contract is linked to
The Tycoon’s Dating Deal (#3810)
which is available on www.eHarlequin.com
The Wedding Contract
Nicola Marsh
To Martin, for keeping the romance alive
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
STEVE ROCKWELL didn’t have time for fun. Not unless it suited his purpose and didn’t distract him from more important matters, like making money.
‘Can I help you?’ A hand touched his arm, halting him.
He frowned and stopped mid-stride. The sooner he completed today’s business at the dingy Gold Coast theme park and flew back to Sydney, the better.
‘No, I’m fine.’ His impatience faded as his gaze met an inquisitive pair of hazel eyes, the likes of which he’d never seen before. They weren’t green or brown but an incredible combination of the two, with gold flecks thrown in for good measure.
Not bad, if you liked that sort of thing. Personally, he had a penchant for blue where women were concerned.
He let his gaze slide down the rest of the woman, wondering if the loose, gypsy-like clothes hid any curves. Strange garb, but what did he expect at a carnival?
‘You seem to be lost.’ Her voice was soft, innocent and belied the age-old weariness he glimpsed in her peculiar eyes.
He stared at the hand resting on his sleeve, noting the short nails and callus on the third finger, the antithesis of the women who usually grabbed him with their perfectly manicured talons.
He stepped away, surprised to discover he missed her brief touch. The relentless Queensland heat, which he couldn’t stand, must have melted his brain.
‘I’m here to see Colin Lawrence. Isn’t that his office over there?’ He pointed to a small, ramshackle portable building on the outskirts of the grounds, past the whirling rides, the popcorn stand and the Ferris wheel.
She quirked an eyebrow at him. ‘He’s not in. Can I help instead?’
Despite her sass, he almost laughed aloud at the thought of doing business with this waif dressed in layers of flimsy, floating material.
‘Not unless I need my palm read.’ He noted the sudden defensive posture as she folded her arms. The action outlined her full breasts and he had a sudden desire to discover what other hidden delights lay beneath the layers.
Her eyes narrowed. ‘Oh, I’m sure I’d have no trouble in telling you your fortune.’
So the lady liked to spar? He would have little trouble in accommodating her—after all, it was what he did best. He wasn’t a partner in one of Sydney’s most prestigious law firms for nothing.
‘Go ahead, then, Madam Zelda. Give it your best shot.’ He thrust out his hand, keen to see her reaction.
She ignored his outstretched palm. ‘Not out here. Too public for what I have to say. Why don’t you come into my lair?’
Now, that was the best offer he’d had all day.
He followed her, admiring the gentle swishing of the long skirt around her ankles. She wore sandals, an anklet and a silver toe-ring, and he briefly wondered if they completed her outfit or she favoured that sort of thing all the time. He’d never been a fan of jewellery, especially the bizarre piercings that many women liked these days. In fact, he would hazard a guess that this lady sported a navel-ring to match the one wrapped around her second toe.
‘Do you intend to come in or are you going to stand out there all day, admiring my feet?’ She held open a purple drape and gestured him inside, a cheeky smile tugging at the corners of her lush mouth.
Lord, that mouth. Outlined in a sheer pink gloss, it sent his imagination into overdrive. The midday sun must have addled his brain more than he’d thought. Since when did he ever mix business with pleasure?
He
