Marriage in Name Only?

He damn well hoped so.

Because he hadn’t been able to rid himself of the feel of her compact body against his. Because she’d distracted him during an important conference call. Because she’d made him forget his coat, which was why he was back here at two o’clock in the morning.

And she was going to give him an exceedingly restless night.

Her scooter sputtered into life and took off down the street in a cloud of fumes. He gave her—and himself—a minute, then pulled away from the kerb and headed for home.

A short time later, he caught sight of her again when he drew up behind her at a red traffic light. The lights changed and she zoomed off ahead, her hair streaming behind her from beneath the helmet. Dammit—he wanted a chance to apologise, preferably while running his hands through that silky gold.

And that was the thing; he didn’t go for blondes—especially small mouthy blondes. He preferred his women tall and dark, poised and sophisticated. But he’d felt the tiny quivers running through her limbs, the surprising fit of her small body against his. The fury in her eyes, all the more eloquent for its silence.

An almost-grin tugged at his lips. Any other night he might have enjoyed the challenge—a night to slake his lust with a nameless woman. A woman who didn’t know him. A feisty woman who’d give as good as she got. He had a feeling the little surprise package riding ahead of him ticked all three boxes.

But his conference call to Dubai hadn’t gone as well as he’d hoped and his fist tightened on the steering wheel. Yes, he could have done with a bloody good distraction.

Suddenly, without warning, she veered to the side of the street. By the time Jordan had pulled over and climbed out with the honourable intention of asking if she was okay, she was standing on the footpath, helmet in hand, windswept hair tangled around her face, expression stony. Her free hand was curled into a fist and tapping against her thigh. Music floated from an all-night jazz bar nearby. A light rain misted the air.

‘So I can add stalker to my list.’ She shuffled her feet on the concrete, drawing his attention to clumpy knee-high boots.

He raised his hands to shoulder height. ‘I’m on my way home. Forgot my coat earlier.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘R-i-ght.’

‘Look, I—’

‘No, you look, whoev—’

‘Stop!’ He jabbed the air with a finger. ‘Give me a chance to open my mouth, will you?’

A beat of silence filled the air between them. ‘Fine.’ She huffed out a breath, her spine stiff, mouth tight. ‘Say what you have to say and leave.’

‘This is my usual route home. I am not following you. And I will not follow you.’ He paused, hopeful. ‘Unless you ask me to.’

She didn’t reply but he imagined he saw the tiniest glimmer of that earlier heat in her eyes, instantly doused.

‘Though I do have to ask,’ he continued carefully, ‘are you sure it’s safe for a woman to be riding that thing alone late at night?’

‘I don’t need a bodyguard.’ She glanced skywards. ‘And I’d like to make it home before I drown.’

‘Think that’s possible?’ He glanced at the scooter. ‘That’s not the most reliable-looking transport I ever saw.’

‘The Rolls is in for a service.’ She flicked at her dampening hair as the rain thickened but there was a touch of humour around her mouth and her voice had lost some of its sting.

‘My name’s Jordan. Jordan Blackstone.’

She studied his face a moment. ‘Should I have heard of you?’

‘Dana knows me,’ he said, then, ‘I’ve had one hell of a night, and I know you have.’ He gestured to the nearby bar. ‘I’ll buy you a nightcap. I think we could both use one.’

‘I don’t drink and drive on an empty stomach, ‘specially when I’m tired.’

‘Coffee, then.’

‘Thanks, but no, thanks.’ She turned towards her bike.

Something inside him snapped—he didn’t want to be alone tonight. He didn’t want to go home and think about his messy situation. And he wasn’t used to women turning him down cold.

‘Wait.’ He reached out, his hand encircling her wrist, keeping his touch light, giving her a choice. Her eyes widened at the contact but she didn’t pull away. The tip of her head barely reached his shoulders, arousing his protective instincts. ‘Is anyone expecting you?’

She hesitated. ‘No. But my housemates will know if I’m … late.’

‘What’s your name?’

‘Chloe.’

‘Chloe.’ He smoothed his thumb over the delicate skin at her wrist, felt her rapid pulse thrumming in time with his own. ‘I want a chance to explain about earlier.’

She shook her head but left her hand in his, confusing him further. ‘Why?’ Dark eyes skewered into his. ‘It wasn’t as if it was memorable or anything.’

That brought a smile to his lips. ‘You enjoyed it as much as I did.’ He couldn’t resist; he shifted closer, smelled leather and spice and warm woman.

She didn’t back away and he heard the tiny hitch in her breath, saw the flare of heat in her eyes even as she said, ‘You really are an arrogant piece of w—’

‘Ring Dana. If anything happens …’

‘Nothing’s going to happen.’ She withdrew her hand and pointed up the street. ‘See that neon sign? I’m going to sit down in there in the nice bright public light where there are people and eat a burger.’ Then she pulled on her helmet.

He watched her shapely black-clad legs, the curve of her backside as she climbed onto her scooter, and his groin hardened at the mental image of her astride him, thighs clenched around his hips, her head thrown back in passion as she tangled her fingers in her own hair and shouted his name. His blood simmered and smoked in his veins. I could give you the ride of your life.

She didn’t so much as glance his way before she zoomed off. Which was probably a good thing.

But it was a clear invitation and he jumped into his car and followed. The evening might not end so badly after all.

CHAPTER TWO

JORDAN GAVE HER a few moments to order and waited until she’d taken up residence at a table before following her inside. She was munching on a burger by the time he sat down opposite her with his own and a side order of fries.

He slid a foam cup in front of her. ‘I didn’t know what you like. Most people like cappuccino.’

‘Not at ridiculous o’clock in the morning if you want a decent night’s sleep,’ she said around a mouthful of bun. ‘But thank you.’

‘You’re welcome.’

‘So are you a movie star or something? On one of those Aussie soaps? I’ve been out of the country for eight years. I’m not up on the latest celebrities.’

Obviously fame didn’t impress her, which made for a refreshing change. ‘I’m in the mining industry.’

She studied him curiously. ‘Why did you think I’d know you, then?’