business partner,’ Shontelle revealed with an expressive shudder. ‘He of the Porsche and designer suits. Great credentials and recommendations. Very skilled at cooking the books.’
‘Don’t forget Gregory, who dined here every Wednesday night at eight without fail,’ Sally reminisced. ‘Reserved the same table, ordered precisely the same entrée and main every time, and requested a cappuccino specifically containing frothed milk with coffee on the side, sans chocolate. Then suddenly he was gone, and we never did discover a reason for his absence.’
Walking away at the end of the evening was difficult. The staff, each and every one of them, had remained loyal during the tough times, especially Sally and Shontelle, who’d been with Lara since Lara’s was a new untried venture.
A soft rain-shower sprinkled the windscreen as Wolfe covered the relatively short distance to their hotel, and Lara leant back against the head-rest and closed her eyes until the Lexus slid to a halt in the hotel forecourt.
‘Don’t ever do that again.’ The words spilled out the instant Wolfe closed the door of their suite.
‘What, specifically, are you referring to?’
‘Oh, please. Let’s not play verbal games.’
He dispensed with his wallet and keys, then he shrugged out of his jacket, toed off his Italian loafers and began loosening the buttons on his shirt.
Lara turned away when he undid his belt and reached for the zip fastening.
‘You want to vent, go ahead.’
She resolutely refused to offer a word, and she heard the faint rustle of clothing, followed seconds later by the soft click of the door leading into the en suite, only to hear it reopen minutes later.
Then he was there, and his hands closed over her shoulders as he turned her round to face him.
Dark sapphire-blue eyes glittered with banked-down anger as she met his steady gaze, and her lips parted as she prepared to rail against him.
Except he didn’t give her the chance, as he captured her head between his hands and closed his mouth over her own in an erotic, evocative kiss that took all of her fine anger and tamed it.
Tamed her, she admitted, and left her hovering on the brink of wanting more. So much more.
For a moment she almost succumbed as his lips trailed to the sensitive hollow at the base of her throat, lingered there as he teased the throbbing pulse.
A tortured whisper emerged as she sought a vestige of control, caught in a swirling vortex where emotion ruled.
Just as she thought she could stand no more, he lifted his head and gently eased her to arm’s length.
‘Go to bed.’ He trailed the pads of his fingers down her cheek and pressed a forefinger to her lips. ‘To sleep, hmm?’
She closed her eyes, then opened them again.
He could switch off so easily?
Oh, get real. The only emotion involved here was her own. She represented a convenience. Her circumstances merely a puzzle-piece that fitted life’s pattern. His, but also hers.
So accept it and move forward.
Without a word she stepped past him, collected the oversize tee-shirt she wore as a sleep-shirt, and made for the en suite.
When she emerged the lamp adjacent to her bed provided the room’s only illumination, and she switched it off as she slid beneath the covers to lie staring into the darkness.
Tomorrow … today, she corrected on the edge of sleep … was her wedding day.
CHAPTER SEVEN
MARRIAGE, whenever Lara had given thought to the possibility of her own, would have involved the usual lead up to the event itself, with the choosing of a gown, the inevitable hen party, and Suzanne sharing in the celebrations.
Tradition, however, played no part in this day.
There was no breakfast served in bed. A caring message from an anxious groom-to-be didn’t happen, nor the appearance of a bridesmaid or three, make-up artist and hairdresser.
Instead, Lara rose early, bade Wolfe a perfunctory ‘Good morning,’ as he pulled on sweats, and offered, ‘Coffee?’
She needed to do something, anything, to keep her mind occupied.
‘Half a cup, black, no sugar.’
A few days of occupying a hotel suite should have accustomed her to Wolfe’s presence. Instead, it merely accelerated her nervous tension, and she felt the familiar curling sensation in the pit of her stomach as he crossed to her side.
Would it be easier tomorrow, the day after, when she’d shared her body with his?
Sure, and piglets should sprout wings and fly!
A hollow laugh choked in her throat, and she swallowed compulsively.
He stood close … too close … and there was nothing she could do to prevent the fine body hairs rising up in sensual recognition.
Oh, for heaven’s sake … get a grip.
Wolfe drained his coffee and replaced the cup onto the servery. ‘I’ll head down to the gym.’
‘OK.’
Her eyes flew wide as he caught hold of her chin and tilted it so she had no option but to meet his gaze. ‘Don’t think of bailing out.’
His voice held a tinge of silk, and for a fleeting second he caught a glimpse of shock … and something else.
‘Why would I do that?’ she managed reasonably.
Why, indeed? Yet there was something evident beneath the surface he couldn’t quite tap into, he reflected thoughtfully as he rode the lift down to the gym.
She kissed like an angel, and he’d be fooling himself if he said he didn’t want more. To taste and savour, gift her pleasure … and take his own.
During his absence Lara showered and washed her hair, shared a leisurely breakfast with Wolfe on his return, then she began preparing for the marriage ceremony.
Make-up was minimal, with a soft pink blush adding colour to her cheeks, gloss accenting her lips, and she highlighted her eyes with a light stroke of blue to match them.
Simplicity was her chosen style, and she swept the length of her hair into a smooth twist at her nape and fixed it with a pearl-studded hinged clip.
The ivory dress with its fitted lace overlay was perfect for the marriage ceremony. Scalloped lace edged the wide scooped-neckline, the short sleeves and hemline providing a delicate fragility to her slender, petite frame. Stilettos added height, and she fixed a slender gold chain at her neck, gifted to her by Suzanne.
The final
