was beginning to sound much more favorable. “And we wouldn’t be sleeping together?”
The corner of his lips curved up, yet his eyes darkened. “This isn’t make-believe, Olivia. It would be a real marriage.”
Her stomach flipped at the thought of them in bed together.
Making love together.
Feeling flushed, she had to drag her eyes away from him…then back. “If the Cannington name is all you want, you could always marry my mother,” she joked, but instantly regretted it. Her mother was still a beautiful woman. And she’d been married three times already.
His gaze strayed over her. “No. You’re the one I want.”
His comment snatched her breath away. With a supreme effort, she mentally fought to put up a wall. “I’ve been married before, you know.”
His eyes narrowed. “I know.”
Panic rose in her throat. She couldn’t do it. No, not for the business. Not for her mother. Not even for a year. The heartache had been too much last time.
Somehow she managed to get a grip. “But I’m divorced. Doesn’t that make me less than perfect?” she said, giving him an out, putting a stop to all this craziness. She had to.
Someone had to.
A frown creased the skin between his brows. “No, it doesn’t.”
A warm feeling bounced inside her chest, but she tried to stay strong. “I swore I’d never marry again.”
His eyes took on a softer look. “This wouldn’t be for love, Olivia. You wouldn’t have to worry about me hurting you.”
She wasn’t so sure about that. Heartache and marriage usually went together. It had happened in her mother’s three marriages, and in her own one.
Alex placed his half-empty glass on the table. “I’ll give you twenty-four hours to think things over.”
“How generous,” she quipped. Somehow she didn’t think a lifetime was enough to think things over with this man.
“Be home tomorrow night. I’ll drop by your apartment.”
“Or you could just phone me,” she mocked, using the same comment he’d used when she’d first arrived.
“No chance. I’m not letting you escape.”
Her chin lifted. “You may not have a choice.”
“You may not either.”
Just then the waiter returned and she bit her lip to stop from making a remark. Fine. She’d allow him the last word.
This time.
Olivia spent a restless night thinking over Alex’s offer, trying to decide whether she needed to take the drastic action of marrying a man for money. One minute she convinced herself she could do it, then she couldn’t. She would, then she wouldn’t.
Heavens, if it’d just been for the business’s sake she’d dismiss it out of hand and take her chances with a bank. But the opportunity to earn some money without needing to pay it back, and without needing to explain why half of that money needed to go to her mother, was sobering.
Yet marriage?
She couldn’t.
And then she reminded herself how her mother had helped her through the divorce. Shattered by Eric’s betrayal, the last thing Olivia had expected was that her mother would bring her back home to Australia for a few months to recover. Olivia wouldn’t forget her mother being there for her.
But marriage to Alex? Dear Lord, she wasn’t sure she could ever learn to trust another man.
She froze. Or did she really need to worry about trust? Alex had said it wasn’t a love match, so at least he was being upfront about it.
The next evening she opened her apartment door to him with a noncommittal expression, but her pulse had quickened. There was no doubt he affected her. Everything about him suggested an intense and indelible masculinity that made her tingle.
This isn’t make-believe, Olivia. It would be a real marriage.
She swallowed hard and closed the door behind him. “Would you like a drink?”
He stood a few feet away in the open-plan living room. “What do you have?”
She pasted on a false smile. “Prune juice?”
He gave a husky chuckle. “Coffee if you have it.”
“I do.” She went to turn toward the kitchen.
“Remember those words.”
She stopped with a frown. “What do you—” She realized what he meant. “Oh.”
“They sound perfect for a wedding ceremony, don’t you think?” His eyes were watchful.
But she wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of telling him her decision yet. Let him wait. He had to learn he couldn’t always get his own way. Or control people. Not her anyway.
She turned and walked into the kitchen, then glanced up to see him following her. Ignoring him, she reached for the coffeepot but could feel his eyes looking around the apartment then on her, no doubt comparing her modest surroundings to a Hollywood lifestyle.
Only she couldn’t explain that she lived modestly for a reason. That she’d been paying her mother’s debts off these past few years. Anyway, this was no hardship. She’d been mostly raised by her grandmother here in Sydney in a comfortable suburban house, far from the excesses of LA.
“You enjoy being a fashion designer?”
She poured the coffee into two mugs. “Yes. I wouldn’t do it otherwise.”
“You never wanted to be a movie star like your mother?”
She passed him a mug. “I can’t act.”
He casually leaned against the door frame. “So it doesn’t run in the blood then?”
“I’m a simple girl at heart,” she half joked, then rested against the kitchen counter and looked at him over the top of her mug. “If you’re expecting more then you’re going to be disappointed.”
His gaze lingered on her. “No, I don’t think I will be,” he murmured, making the breath hitch in her throat.
“I—” She wasn’t even sure what she was going to say. Something…anything…to stop the overwhelming need to step into his arms. “This is crazy,” she said.
“No, it isn’t.”
Realizing she was giving away too much of what she was feeling, she swung around and placed her coffee mug in the sink. Taking a calming breath, she turned back to meet his
