Untamed Billionaires: Marriage: For Business or Pleasure? / Getting Red-Hot with the Rogue / One Night with the Rebel Billionaire

He shook his head, beyond impressed at her work ethic. He’d never seen her like this: focused, determined, driven, issuing orders and delegating to the team she’d assembled in record time.

Watching her in a power suit the colour of ripe plums, her hair twisted in a fancy topknot and her brow creased in concentration while she tapped on a keyboard with one hand and shuffled documents with the other, he understood why she’d said yes to his proposal.

Her job meant everything to her and, while he empathised with her ambition, he couldn’t help but wish some of her agreement stemmed from the sexual tension strumming between them.

A surge of heat at the memory of kissing her had him sliding a finger between his neck and suddenly too tight collar.

Their marriage might be motivated by business, but who said they couldn’t have a real honeymoon?

Her head snapped up and their gazes locked, as if he’d inadvertently telepathised his thoughts and he grinned, sent her a half-salute, not surprised when she frowned and gestured towards the stack of paperwork in front of her.

She didn’t want him here.

His cue to saunter across the room and drop into the vacant chair next to her.

‘How’s it going?’

Frowning, she barely glanced at him. ‘Busy.’

‘So I see.’

‘Don’t you have work of your own to do?’

Leaning back, he linked his fingers and stretched. ‘I’m taking a break.’

He smothered an outright laugh as she glared. ‘Anything I can do to help?’

‘No, all under control.’

Her laptop screen flickered and she swore, making a mockery of her previous statement.

‘I’ve got the latest technology in my office if you need it.’

‘I said I was fine,’ she snapped, rubbing the bridge of her nose before mustering an apologetic smile. ‘Sorry. I’m used to having my team around me in London. It’s harder trying to get a cohesive unit together so quickly here.’

‘Why the rush?’

He knew she’d see right through his innocuous question, knew she’d understand what he was really asking was ‘how long are you sticking around?’

With her gaze firmly fixed on her laptop screen, she said, ‘Deadlines. I’m sure you understand.’

Placing a hand on her arm, he leaned across to murmur in her ear. ‘How long, Red?’

She stared at his hand as if it were a tiger snake before finally raising her eyes to his.

‘I don’t know. This pitch is big. Huge. The MD didn’t set an exact timeline but he knows I’m a fast worker. As long as I deliver, it’s up to me.’

He wanted to push the issue, wanted to discuss how long they’d have to make this marriage as real as it could get, but now wasn’t the time or place.

Squeezing her arm, he released her and glanced at his watch. ‘I do have an appointment, but we should get together later to discuss our other business.’

Her eyes widened as the pen in her right hand started rapping a frenetic rhythm against the Manila folder in front of her.

Amazing how the mention of their pending marriage could change her from uber-cool career-woman to nervous Nelly.

‘I’m not sure how long I’ll be here. I have loads to do, then I need to head out to the farm—’

‘Perfect. We can discuss our plans over dinner.’

She opened her mouth to refuse and he raised an eyebrow, daring her to disagree.

‘Not having second thoughts, are you? Because if you are, I might have to expedite the sale of the farm and—’

‘Fine, I’ll see you there.’

The coolness in her tone belied the angry flush creeping up her neck as he marvelled again at how damn important this promotion must be for her to go through with this.

Marrying for convenience occurred a fair bit in the business world, but never in his wildest dreams had he thought he’d do it, let alone to the only woman he would’ve ever contemplated walking down the aisle with once upon a time.

‘Glad that’s settled.’

He stood, looked down at her elaborate hairdo, his fingers itching to tug the pins out and send the whole thing tumbling around her shoulders.

As if sensing his thoughts again, she tilted back on the chair, glared at him. ‘Was there anything else, because you’re hovering?’

With a smile designed to provoke a response, he ducked down to murmur in her ear. ‘I’ll cook, but I hope you remember how much I love dessert.’

As the pen picked up tempo again he chuckled, snatched a hairpin and laid it on the stack of paperwork in front of her, before heading for the door.

‘I brought dessert.’

Brittany held out the store-bought lemon meringue pie, wishing Nick would take the damn thing before it tumbled from her shaking hands.

This dinner was supposed to set her mind at rest, a pre-wedding get-together to discuss plans and take the edge off her nerves.

So far, it wasn’t working.

‘Thanks, looks delicious.’

His gaze flicked over her, appreciation lighting his eyes, and she had no doubt he wasn’t talking about the pie.

She’d spent an hour deciding what to wear, aiming for casual yet wanting to make him look twice. After five changes she’d finally decided on caramel suede trousers sitting low on her hips and a chocolate rib top that fitted like a second skin. The warm tones highlighted her hair and skin to perfection, or so some stylist had told her at Harrods.

In London, she’d taken her appearance for granted, spending a small fortune on clothes and accessories to fit the image of a top marketing consultant. She dressed to impress, was used to it. That was her excuse for wanting to look her best tonight. Yeah, right.

‘What’s for dinner?’

She headed for the stove in an attempt to escape Nick’s intense stare.