Marrying for King's Millions / The Spanish Aristocrat's Woman: Marrying for King's Millions

“No, I’m not jealous,” she said. “That would be silly, wouldn’t it? It’s not like we’re actually—”

“Married?” His smile disappeared in a blink. “No, guess we’re not. Which is why we’re here. And on that subject, I’ll talk to my cousin Rico tomorrow. Get the bead on who we should go to about arranging this divorce.”

“Great.” She walked toward the iron railing and laid one hand on the cool surface. Taking another drink of the champagne, Julie was aware that the bubbles were going directly to her head, but maybe that was a good thing.

“You’re a good actress, I give you that,” Travis pointed out.

“Hmm?”

“The performance you put on for the clerk downstairs almost had me convinced you were a happy newlywed.”

“Yeah, well,” she said, wondering why her glass was empty just before Travis reached out and refilled it. “She ticked me off.”

“I guessed that much.”

“And you enjoyed it,” she said, taking another sip, allowing the bubbles to slide down her throat and buzz through her blood.

“I did,” he said, draining his own glass of champagne in one long swallow. He refilled his glass and took another sip before speaking again. “Had to wonder, though.”

“What?” God, it felt good to be out here, feeling the wind on her skin and the champagne in her blood. Looking at Travis, she felt a warmth, too. A sort of heat that was settling down low inside her. Danger, Julie. Oh, be quiet, she ordered that annoying internal voice.

“Well, that acting skill of yours,” he said, coming around the tiny table to stand beside her.

Julie drained her champagne and licked her lips as her body began to hum. She wasn’t drunk, but she was feeling pretty good. “What about it?”

“If you’re that good at acting, maybe you’ve been playing me all along.”

She blew out a breath in frustration. If he was going to continue to believe that she was in cahoots with Jean Claude then this year was going to be misery.

“I told you Travis, I wouldn’t do that.” She set her glass down onto the table.

“I’d like to believe you, Julie,” he was saying, reaching out with a finger to play with one of the straps of her dress. “But—”

“But?” How could he really believe that about her and still want her? More, how could she be burning up with lust for him, knowing that he thought her capable of blackmail?

Apparently, though, her mind and her body were riding two different tracks. Her skin felt as if it was on fire where he was touching her. Nerves rattled through Julie’s body and she knew she was in big trouble. But she didn’t care.

“I’m thinking I need some convincing,” he said, his dark eyes flashing with a need that her body was clamoring to answer.

“I don’t know what more I can say.”

“No more talking,” he said and set his glass down on the table beside hers.

“Then what…”

He slid one of her dress straps down her shoulder and smoothed his thumb over her skin. Her gaze locked with his, Julie’s breath caught and her blood began to pump thick and hot and urgent.

“I paid a hundred thousand dollars to marry you today,” Travis said, dipping his head to kiss her bare shoulder.

Julie sucked in a gulp of air.

“Now,” he said, straightening up as his finger slid along the line of her bodice, dipping down to caress the valley between her breasts. “How about you show me what I paid for?”

Five

Julie just stared at him for what felt like forever. Shock had her feeling a little stunned, but as she looked at him, she sensed that he was waiting for her response. To see if she’d take this or stand up and call him on it.

He didn’t have to wait long.

His gaze was dark and hot and spearing into hers, daring her to look away. She didn’t. Instead, she pulled in a deep breath, kept her gaze locked with his and said too sweetly, “Since you actually paid the hundred thousand dollars to Jean Claude…why don’t I call him for you and he can show you whatever you like?”

Amusement flickered in Travis’s eyes and one corner of his mouth lifted. “Good one. But I’m not interested in your Frenchman.”

Frustration bubbled up inside her, frothier than the champagne she’d just drunk way too much of. “For heaven’s sake, he’s not my French—” She stopped because the amusement in his eyes was even brighter now. Frustration gave way to confusion. “You’re laughing?”

“Not laughing, smiling.”

“About?”

“About how we ended up here together, despite your Frenchman—”

She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off quickly. “And how we’ve both had too much to drink,” he continued. “And how you smell so good it’s driving me nuts.”

Her nipples peaked.

For pity’s sake, he didn’t even have to try and her body jumped and cheered.

“Plus—” he added, dipping his index finger into the valley between her breasts again “—you look beautiful. This dress…is amazing. It tempts me to peel it off you and discover all your secrets.”

She trembled. He was too close. Too warm. His breath was too soft on her face and the fire in his eyes was like an incendiary, quickening a similar blaze inside her.

When he wasn’t trying to seduce her, he was nearly irresistible. When he was trying, he was downright illegal. His finger stroked the tops of her breasts and Julie’s already fuzzy brain started clouding up completely.

“Um, Travis?” Her mouth was dry and her breath was coming in tight, short gasps that were really contributing to the whole light-headed thing.

“Yeah?” He kissed her shoulder again.

Oh, he had a great mouth.

“Um…” She was really trying to think, but it was suddenly so hard. Her nerve endings were lit up like a marquee in Las Vegas and her core was damp and hot and oh, so achingly ready that her brain probably figured it wouldn’t be required anymore that night, so it had shut down.

Still, Julie tried to think. She couldn’t quite remember what it was that had seemed so important a moment ago. His lips and tongue moved on her bare shoulder, the edges of his teeth scraping against her skin, sending shockwaves pulsing throughout her system. Like the aftershocks of an earthquake, everything seemed just a little off-kilter.

But at last, a solitary wispy thought flashed across her mind and Julie grabbed for it. “Right. Right, Travis…”

“Mmm…” He kissed the side of her neck and Julie tipped her head to one side to make sure he covered every square inch of available skin.

“We, uh, we agreed,” she said, struggling for air while trying desperately to hold onto that one tiny thought. “Agreed to a no-sex policy for this marriage. Remember?”