Australian Bachelors: Masterful Magnates: Purchased: His Perfect Wife

Credentials were offered, introductions completed. The answering of a few pertinent questions and an examination resulted in the assurance her larynx wasn’t damaged, the bruising would duly emerge and subside, and her voice should return to normal by morning.

He handed over a sample pack of painkillers and a sedative, accepted his fee and left.

Lara unpacked a few essentials and headed into the en suite. A shower helped ease some of the tension, and she enjoyed the luxury of a seemingly endless supply of hot water … so different from the boarding house, where an inadequate hot-water system meant lukewarm ablutions.

Dry, she pulled on a large cotton tee-shirt, added briefs, caught her hair together in a single plait, completed her nightly routine, then emerged to find Wolfe waiting for her, pills and a glass of water in hand.

‘Take these, then go to bed. You’re beat.’

Oh great. As if she needed to be reminded of her mirrored image, the dark, dilated eyes in a waxen, pale face.

Without a word she took the pills and swallowed each one cautiously with water, then she slid beneath the covers on the bed closest to the external glass-wall.

‘Thanks.’ A huskily voiced word meant to encompass much.

Wolfe inclined his head as he switched off the lights with the exception of a lamp on the desk, then he opened his laptop and soon became engrossed with data on-screen.

Lara closed her eyes and willed the medication to take effect as she relived walking into the house, making the phone call in the hallway … her assailant appearing out of nowhere and the resultant fracas.

It was all too easy to feel a hand gripping the top of her throat, the resultant pain and pressure as he lifted and slammed her hard against the wall … and the fear.

A shiver shook her slim frame, and she unconsciously curled her body into a protective ball.

She was here with Wolfe, and safe.

But for how long?

Soon she’d become his wife, and face another hurdle … that of sharing his life without allowing herself the benefit of emotional attachment.

Difficult, when she had vivid recall of the frankly sensual touch of his mouth on her own, and the electrifying passion he’d effortlessly aroused. It had blown her away, and had become an unconscious benchmark which sadly no other man had matched.

So where did that leave her?

It suddenly became too difficult to think, and her breathing slowed as she was claimed by sedative-induced sleep … unaware of the man who worked a little longer, showered, then slid in between the covers of the other bed.

CHAPTER FOUR

LARA became aware of light, when her subconscious expected darkness, and there was the tantalizing drift of fresh coffee teasing the air as she shifted in bed and slowly opened her eyes.

The hotel suite, Wolfe … Each descended in a heartbeat.

The small banker’s-lamp glowed on the desk where 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.’