Wolfe was seated, keying data into his laptop.
What was the time? Her watch … where was it?
She checked the bedside pedestal, saw the offending timepiece and snatched it up.
Six.
The markets. She was in danger of missing the early-morning fish market.
In one swift movement she threw back the bedcovers and rose to her feet, then she quickly pulled on jeans and dragged on a sweatshirt.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’
Wolfe’s silky drawl drew a fraught glance in his direction as she slid her feet into trainers.
‘Going to the fish market,’ she said without thought to her voice, or its return. ‘I should have been there an hour ago.’
The sedative she’d taken had to have been responsible for her sleeping through the alarm. Or, she reflected hurriedly, given the night’s events, had she even remembered to activate it?
Whatever; it hardly mattered. Her main priority was to reach the markets before the fishermen loaded up their catch and began their deliveries.
‘Call in an order.’
‘That’s not how I choose my supplies.’
Deft fingers smoothed her hair into a ponytail, then she reached for her jacket, collected her shoulderbag and crossed the room. Only to find Wolfe blocking her way.
Clad in jeans and a cotton tee-shirt, he exuded a raw masculinity … heightened by the fact he had yet to shave, and the dark stubble added a primitive air she endeavoured to ignore.
‘Enlighten me.’
‘Personal selection ensures good quality,’ she elaborated. ‘And I prefer wholesale to retail prices.’
He let his gaze travel over her features. ‘You’ve had less than five hours’ sleep.’
‘So what else is new?’ She wanted to hit him, and for a brief second she considered it. Except there was a warning stillness that boded ill for any retaliatory action.
‘Can we have this argument later, rather than now?’
Without a further word he shrugged into a jacket, collected keys, wallet, and the room keycard. ‘Let’s go.’
She opened her mouth to protest, then closed it again and followed him out to the bank of lifts.
Lara was aware of the concierge calling up Wolfe’s car, whereupon she gave Wolfe directions as they traversed slick wet streets, and a short while later they caught sight of fishmongers loading what was left of the catch.
Without a word she slid from the car and hailed two men by name as she raced towards them.
Wolfe cut the engine and emerged into the cool morning air, to lean lazily against the Lexus as Lara went into action, watching as she offered apologies and issued a plea to view and select her restaurant’s daily order of fresh fish, lobster, local crustaceans and prawns.
Wolfe witnessed the men’s expressions change from irritation to philosophical acceptance, and glimpsed Lara’s answering smile as they conceded her choices.
A short while later Lara returned to the car, and he straightened to his full height.
‘I gather you saved the day.’
She had, at wholesale prices. The alternative, if she’d been any later, would have meant buying at inflated retail cost. ‘Thanks.’
‘That’s it?’
‘For now.’
‘Why do I get the feeling there’s more?’
She crossed round to the passenger side, and relayed the day’s schedule as she opened the door. ‘I get to have an hour’s sleep, grab breakfast and hit the restaurant around nine.’
He leaned an arm against the roof and regarded her carefully. ‘Not today.’
‘Today.’ She slid into the seat, aware he copied her actions.
He fired the engine, and cast her a piercing look. ‘It’s not negotiable.’
‘The hell it isn’t.’ Her eyes sparked blue fire as anger rose to the surface. ‘Our deal, for want of a better word, begins when we sign the marriage certificate.’ Which, God willing, wouldn’t happen for another week or more at least.
She needed time to adjust to the idea of sleeping with him. Oh, get it right … intimacy. Even the mere thought elevated her pulse-rate and did strange things to her equilibrium.
If only she could indulge in the physical, and hold her emotions in check. Engage the body, but close out the mind.
Fat chance. He’d engaged her emotionally from the moment she’d first met him … something which hadn’t changed in a decade.
And now she would soon take his name, share her body with his, and attempt to pretend it was OK.
The early-morning rain shower had ceased, and the grey dawn subsided as the sun began colouring the landscape.
Light traffic traversed the streets, and within minutes they reached the hotel.
‘I’ll go work out in the gym,’ Wolfe indicated as he unlocked the suite.
Lara inclined her head as she toed off her trainers and shed her jacket, then she set her watch alarm and backed it up by requesting a wake-up call.
While she did that, he exchanged his jeans for sweats, caught up a towel and slung it over one shoulder, then he exited the suite as she crawled beneath the bedcovers.
A short morning nap was so much a part of her daily routine she was asleep within minutes.
The next thing she knew was the sound of the alarm buzzing in tandem with the insistent peal of the phone relaying her wake-up call, and she reached for the handset, closed the alarm, swung her legs out from the bed … and saw Wolfe unloading their breakfast tray onto the table.
‘Hi.’
‘You had no trouble sleeping?’
He’d showered, shaved and exchanged sweats for tailored trousers and a business shirt left unbuttoned at the neck.
‘The habit of years,’ Lara managed evenly.
He examined her features and the tumbled ash-blonde hair drifting onto each cheek. There was evidence of faint bruising beginning to emerge on the underside of her jawline, and he masked a momentary surge of anger.
With her, for neglecting to fill him in with the finer details of precisely who she’d owed money to and when it had been due for payment.
Wolfe pointed at the table. ‘Come and eat while the food is hot.’
Lara
