The Temporary Mrs Marchetti

He opened the passenger door for her, jerking his head towards the vacant seat like a police officer taking in a suspect for interrogation. ‘Get in.’

Alice straightened her shoulders, throwing him a glare that could have stripped ten years of graffiti off a council estate wall. ‘Ask nicely.’

A muscle flicked in his jaw and his eyes smouldered like black coals. ‘You know what will happen if you push me too far.’ His tone was silk wrapped around a will of steel.

Alice did know and it was perverse of her to keep doing it. But she couldn’t seem to help herself. It was an urge she couldn’t control. She wanted to push him. She wanted to bait him. To break him. To reduce him to his most primal. A spurt of excitement lit like a wick inside her, sending a radiant heat coursing through her body. Her breasts tingled as if they were preparing themselves for the possessive cup of his hands. Her thighs trembled with the memory of his intimate invasion, her blood stirring into a frenzied whirlpool that made her aware of every feminine muscle contracting and releasing in her groin.

Oh, how she had missed this!

No one made her feel so...so energised. So vital. So...aroused.

She kept her gaze locked on his. The air was so charged with static she could hear it like a fizzing roar in her ears. ‘What are you going to do, Cristiano? Lug me over your shoulder and carry me off like the caveman you really are underneath that smart Armani suit?’

Another ripple of tension passed over his rigidly set mouth, his eyes blazing as they tussled with hers. His hand left the top of his car door and snared one of hers before she could do anything to counter it—if she had wanted to, that was—ruthlessly tugging her towards him so there was barely a breath of air between their bodies. Alice could feel the slight protrusion of his belt buckle digging her in the stomach, a shockingly erotic reminder of the latent male power stirring just below it.

‘Been a long time between drinks, has it, cara?’ he asked in that dangerously smooth tone.

Alice huffed out a laugh but it didn’t come out quite as convincing as she would have liked. It sounded breathless. Uncertain. Out of its depth. ‘You don’t get to hear about my love-life. It’s none of your business.’

His fingers subtly tightened around her wrist, his touch a band of fire that sent lightning-fast currents of hot electricity straight to her core. ‘It will become my business once we’re married next month.’

Next month? Eek!

Alice elevated her chin, sending him a look of undiluted disdain. ‘You seem to have a big problem understanding the concept of the word no. I’m. Not. Marrying. You.’

His top lip lifted in a sardonic curl. ‘You want me so bad I can smell it.’

Alice disguised a quick swallow. She could smell it too. The musk and salt of arousal coming off both of them like a black magic potion. A swirling wicked spell. Its dangerous tentacles were wrapping around her body, coiling like a serpent, strangling her resolve until it was gasping for air.

Only he could do this to her. Make her so wild with need she forgot everything but the greedy hunger in her body clamouring for satiation.

His thighs were flush against hers, the swell of his erection so powerfully male—so blatantly, unashamedly male—it made every feminine cell in her body roll over and beg. Somehow—miraculously—she managed to conjure up a mocking smile. ‘That ego of yours is so big it deserves its own postcode. Or its own government.’

A spark of amusement lit his gaze and his fingers around her wrist loosened slightly, his thumb stroking in a fainеant movement over the hummingbird leap of her pulse. ‘Did you miss what we had together?’

Alice schooled her features into a mask of cool indifference. ‘Not a bit.’

His probing gaze kept hers captive. ‘So why haven’t you had a serious relationship since?’

How on God’s sweet earth did he know that?

Alice arched a brow. ‘None that you know about. Unlike you, I don’t live my life followed by paparazzi documenting every time I sneeze.’

‘When was your last relationship?’

She flicked her eyelids upwards. ‘Oh, for God’s sake, what is this? Twenty questions?’

His gaze didn’t waver. ‘A long time, then.’

Alice pursed her lips and then released them with a rush of air. ‘Are we having dinner or are we going to stand here and swap dating histories? I can get you a list of name and numbers if you’d like? I could even do a printout of some of their messages and emails if that gives you a hard-on.’

Cristiano put his hand back on top of the rim of the car door. ‘That won’t be necessary.’

Alice brushed past him to get in the car, shooting him a glare through the windscreen when he strode in front of the car to take his place behind the wheel. He started the engine with a powerful roar and entered the traffic with a quick glance over his shoulder, the G-force sending her back against the butter-soft leather seat.

Why did his driving always remind her of sex?

The thunderous growl of his engine, the thrusting of the gears, the press on the brakes and the push down on the throttle made her think of all the times he had taken her to bed—or other places—and driven them both to paradise.

Alice’s gaze went to his hands holding the steering wheel with such indolent confidence, the long, tanned fingers with their dusting of dark hair doing all sorts of strange things to her insides. What was it about those hands that made her squirm with need? How was she to get through an evening with him? Sitting across the table with him at a restaurant, for God’s sake?

How the hell had he got her to agree to dinner?

That was one of the scariest things about Cristiano Marchetti. He had an unnerving ability to get her to do things she had no intention of doing.

But...

That tricky little ‘but’ kept gnawing at the wainscoting of her mind. But what if she did agree to it? Six months was nothing. It would flash past. And at the end of it she would be set up financially. For life. She could build her wedding spa with money to spare. She could buy the best equipment, lavishly decorate the place without the limitations of a budget. She could take a holiday—something she hadn’t done in years.

Alice chewed it over... He was expecting her to say no. But wait a minute... What if he didn’t want her to say yes? What if he was only making all this fuss to make her think he was keen to get that ring on her finger?

She smiled a secret smile. She would string him along for a while longer and then she would call his bluff and expose his true motivations.

Married for six months to her mortal enemy?

Game on.

CHAPTER THREE (#u86924764-7575-576f-a856-bf4c9216a9c9)

CRISTIANO OPENED AND closed the fingers of his right hand where they were gripping the steering wheel. He could still feel the hot tingle of Alice’s skin against his fingertips. His lust for her was pounding like a jungle drum deep in his body. He ached with it. Burned with it. Vibrated with it. No one but her could reduce him to this. To stir in him such primitive, out of control longings. Longings he had never felt for anyone else. Longings that made a mockery of the sex he’d had before her and since.

Not that he hadn’t had great sex over the years. He had. Many times. He’d made a point of it—using every sexual encounter to drive home the point to himself he could live without her.

It was just that in comparison to what he’d shared with Alice...well, it wasn’t in the same league. Her body, her touch, her wildcat-on-heat response to him triggered something in him. Something indefinable. Something that made his flesh shudder in reaction when she came near. Something that, even now, with her sitting less than a half a metre away, he could feel moving through his body like the aftershocks of an earthquake.

He had to get her out of his system.

He had to.

He could no longer tolerate the rush of adrenalin every time he saw a silver-blonde head in the crowd and the savage drop of his gut afterwards when he realised it wasn’t her. He had to prove to himself he was over her.

Was this why his nonna had set her will up this way? To help him move past the five-foot-six blonde roadblock in his life? To force him to confront the failure he would give anything to forget?

Cristiano had made a promise to himself not to sleep with Alice. Look, but don’t touch. But how long was that going to last? He was barely keeping his hands off her now. All he had to do was reach over and stroke his hand down the slim flank of her thigh peeping out from above the knee-high hem of her little black dress.

His fingers twitched against the steering wheel. His groin growled when she crossed one long leg over the other, her racehorse-slim ankle moving up and down as if she were feeling the same restless agitation he was feeling.

Of course she was.