Taken by the Millionaire: Hotly Bedded, Conveniently Wedded

‘So there’s no legal bar to us getting married. Good. So do you want a church wedding or a civil wedding?’

‘I’m divorced,’ she reminded him. ‘I can’t marry in church.’

‘You could still have a blessing, if you want one.’

‘Civil’s fine. And something quiet, Alex. Not a media circus.’

‘It won’t be a media circus,’ he promised. ‘So the mums and Saskia are coming to help you find a wedding dress, next weekend?’

‘Yes.’ She dragged in a breath. ‘But this is all happening so fast.’

‘Relax. We have three weeks. And whatever I say about loathing admin, I’m actually quite good at organising things. I’m not going to skimp any of the little details—or anything major, come to that.’ He gave her a sidelong look. ‘So I take it you’re not going for the meringue dress?’

‘Been there, done that.’

‘That’s a no, then.’ He paused. ‘Tell you what would look good. A little shift dress—you know, like the one Audrey Hepburn wears in Breakfast at Tiffany’s.’

‘A black wedding dress?’

‘No.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘I was talking shape, not colour. White would be good, because it would go with your flame-coloured veil.’

‘What flame-coloured …’ She groaned. ‘Oh, no. Saskia put the idea in your head. We’re not having a Roman wedding and I’m not wearing a flame-coloured veil.’

He pursed his lips. ‘It’d look stunning in the photographs.’

‘Alex!’

He laughed. ‘All right, all right. I’ll leave the dress up to you. But just remember the mums and my sister will all be sworn to absolute secrecy about the finer details, so when you go shopping there’s no point in even asking them what I’m planning.’

‘You’re impossible.’

‘If what I have in mind is doable, you’re going to enjoy it, I promise you that much.’

She was silent for a while, and he was aware of her fidgeting next to him.

‘All right. What now?’

‘Nothing.’

He sighed. ‘Bel, don’t pull that girly stuff on me. What’s the matter?’

‘Are you at least going to tell me where we’re going on holiday?’

He noted her choice of word: holiday, not honeymoon. Good. So she wasn’t about to go sentimental on him. ‘Nope.’

‘So how do I know what to pack? Or if I need any vaccinations?’

‘You don’t need any vaccinations—and we’re not going anywhere that involves mosquitoes or even the tiniest possibility of malaria. As for packing … wear what you want.’

She sighed. ‘Will you at least tell me if it’s going to be cold or hot?’

‘Better than that. I’ll pack for you.’

She growled in frustration. ‘I hate you.’

‘No, you don’t. Just humour me, Bel. I want to do something nice for you—and I like giving surprises.’

‘I don’t like receiving surprises.’

‘Because you’re a control freak,’ he teased.

‘I’m not. You’re a steamroller.’

‘Insulting me isn’t going to make any difference. I’m still not going to tell you anything.’ He chuckled. ‘Though you could try seducing it out of me.’

‘Maybe I’ll do a Lysistrata on you,’ she fenced.

He got the reference to the ancient Greek play immediately. ‘Go on a sex strike? You can try, honey.’ His luck was in, because there was a lay-by ahead. He signalled, parked the car, then removed his seat belt. ‘But that’s not going to work.’

‘Oh, really?’ She lifted her chin at the challenge.

‘Really. Let me show you why.’ He undid her seat belt, yanked her into his arms, and kissed her. Teasing, nibbling kisses along her lower lip until she gave in and opened her mouth, letting him deepen the kiss. He slid one hand underneath her top, stroking her skin in the way he knew she liked; she slid her arms round his neck and drew him closer.

He moved one hand up to cup her breast, rubbing the pad of his thumb against her hardening nipple through the lace of her bra, then broke the kiss.

‘That,’ he said softly, ‘is why a sex strike wouldn’t work. Because it’s good between us, and your body knows it. Right now, your nipples are hard, just as right now I’m hard for you and I really, really want to be inside you.’

Her cheeks flamed. ‘So you’re saying I’m easy?’

‘No. Just that it’s good between us.’ He stroked her face. ‘And if it makes you feel any better, I’m not going to be very comfortable while I’m driving us home. Right now, I can’t think of anything I’d like more than to carry you out of the car, lay you down on the nice soft grass and wrap your legs round my waist.’

She shivered, and he knew she wanted it, too.

‘But as having sex in public could get us arrested, I’ll go for option two.’

‘Which is?’

‘To drive home as fast as possible without getting a speeding fine. And then I’m going to take all your clothes off. And then …’ He gave her a wicked grin. ‘Then I’m going to make you beg.’

She scoffed. ‘In your dreams, big boy.’

He kissed her again. ‘No, honey. In ours.’

CHAPTER EIGHT (#ulink_7a482066-3d77-54d1-842b-c8f6a8a58546)

THE next week simply flew by. Isobel was really busy at work; so she had to admit that no way would she have had the time to organise the wedding herself, or even help Alex much.

But by Friday night she knew she had to talk to him. Before she went shopping for a wedding dress. Before things went too far. Because once he knew the truth, he might change his mind about getting married.