Secrets of the Tycoon's Bride / The Executive's Surprise Baby: Secrets of the Tycoon's Bride

“My pleasure. So what do you think?”

His gaze devoured Lauryn from her satiny hair to her pink-painted toenails. He couldn’t begin to put his thoughts into words. How had he ever believed her plain? Had he been so self-absorbed he’d missed the prize right in front of his face?

Apparently so.

“This cottage is one of my favorites,” Cassie continued.

He jerked his attention back to his half sister. She meant the beach house? “It’s very nice. Comfortable. Private.”

“Excellent. I have to run. I have a hot date tonight with your best man. See you tomorrow.”

“Bye, Cassie, and thanks again,” Lauryn called out as Cassie climbed in her car.

“You’re welcome. I had fun.”

Adam watched the car pull away and then took another long look at Lauryn. He cursed the months of celibacy since his father’s death. Despite what the tabloids said, Adam hadn’t been in the mood to let anyone get close lately—not even physically. As peeved as he was with his father for refusing to acknowledge his accomplishments even after death, Adam still missed the old man.

Bags rattled as Lauryn shifted in her high-heeled sandals—sandals that made her legs look endless.

“Let me have those.” He relieved her of her load, carried the loot inside to the room he’d chosen for her and dumped the bags on her bed. There were fewer bags than he’d expected. He’d expected her to try to bankrupt him.

Lauryn entered behind him. She scanned the space and then crossed the tile floor to peek into the luxurious bathroom. Her heels added a hypnotizing sway to her hips that he hadn’t noticed before.

Her conservative clothing didn’t scream “do me” like so many of Estate’s patrons did. But there was a subtle sexiness in the way her new sundress skimmed her curves that yanked his awakened libido like an angler setting his hook.

Last night’s kiss at the restaurant had rocked him with a tsunami of unexpected hunger. The one at the airport this morning had rocked him, too. And that was before he’d seen his soon-to-be wife looking like this.

He wanted her. Need pulsed in his gut. But he’d promised to abide by her no-sex rule until she said otherwise.

And dammit, he prided himself on being a man of his word.

That didn’t mean he wouldn’t try to change her mind. But not until after the wedding. Judging by the wariness in her eyes if he tried to seduce her tonight he’d be missing a fiancée before the ceremony tomorrow.

“My bedroom’s across the den.” Desire roughened his voice.

“Okay.” She looked and sounded relieved.

If he wanted to sleep better tonight than he had last night he needed to get out of this room, out of this house before he started picturing Lauryn wearing nothing but sleek, wet skin and a dusting of bubbles in that whirlpool tub. With him beside or beneath her.

Too late. He stifled a groan.

“Where are your glasses?” he asked in an attempt to sideline his illicit thoughts.

White teeth pinched her bottom lip and she wrinkled her nose. She looked so damned adorably guilty he almost whimpered. “I…um, don’t really need them.”

“Why in the hell did you hide behind shapeless clothing and ugly glasses?” It made no sense. The women he knew flaunted their assets. Hell, they paid good money to have bigger, better assets implanted.

“I learned not to draw attention to my looks a long time ago. Men assume if you’re pretty, you’re stupid and available.”

“And you aren’t available?” He knew she wasn’t stupid.

“Not at the moment.”

Her flip response stirred something unfamiliar in him. Possessiveness? No. Determination to make sure this plan worked. He couldn’t afford slip-ups if he wanted the council and his brothers to believe he’d fallen for his straightlaced accountant and settled down. “And you won’t be until after we’re divorced.”

“That won’t be a problem.”

The certainty in her tone raised red flags. Holy hell, was she gay? Did that explain why no one had seen her on a date? South Beach had a large gay population. Was that the real reason she’d moved to Florida? Because her story about her father had seemed a lame reason to move three thousand miles.

No, Lauryn couldn’t be gay. He hadn’t imagined the attraction between them or the hunger in her eyes. He’d felt the softening of her lips beneath his when he’d kissed her, and he’d heard her breath catch each time he’d touched her.

He wanted to kiss her now. To prove his theory.

But he wouldn’t. Not yet.

Even though his neglected hormones had him in a tailspin.

Forget the candles, flowers and prepared meals he’d asked Cassie to arrange so he and Lauryn could play out the lovebirds-needing-privacy farce. He couldn’t handle a romantic dinner on the deck tonight. He needed crowds. Loud music. A noisy restaurant. Distractions. Anything but an intimate dinner for two.

“We’re eating out tonight. Be ready in ten.”

Lauryn’s brow creased. “Cassie said she’d filled the refrigerator with local dishes for us.”

Damn. He’d hoped his half sister had neglected to mention that detail. “She did.”

Lauryn swept back her champagne locks with a newly manicured hand tipped in pearl-pink polish. The muscles of Adam’s abdomen ripped as if she’d scraped those short nails across his flesh.

“Adam, I’d rather postpone the whole putting-on-a-show-for-the-locals thing, if you don’t mind. I know we have to eventually, but it’s our first night here and I’m kind of whipped. Cassie is a shopping machine. Surely if anyone is paying attention to our itinerary they’d expect us to want to be alone sometimes?”

Now that she mentioned it, he could see her fatigue in the faint shadows beneath her eyes and the slight downward turn of her mouth.

For sanity’s sake he should be a bastard and insist on going out, but instead he ground his teeth on a frustrated curse.

It was going to be a long night.

“Pick whatever you want to eat and shove it in the microwave. I’m going for a run. I’ll be back in an hour.”

And then Adam did something he’d never done before.

He ran from a woman.

Five

Thursday. Her wedding day.

Lauryn had never been claustrophobic before, but she was getting there fast. The walls of the spacious oceanfront bedroom seemed to close in around her as the clock inched toward the time set for the ceremony. Her pulse raced and her mouth felt as dry and gritty as the sand dunes outside the cottage.

The silk chiffon of her strapless ivory tea-length dress fluttered against her shins as she paced from the window to the door and back, again and again, and the lace bolero jacket abraded her neck and shoulders. Since the ceremony would take place on the beach she’d decided against wearing shoes, and the floor tiles further chilled her already cold bare feet.