The Ceo's Contract Bride

“That’s far too long. Six, then.”

“Six months?” Declan considered it for a moment—that would work, just. He nodded sharply.

Gwen extended her hand to him and he took it, noting this was the first time she’d voluntarily reached out and touched him, tonight anyway. Laughter from inside penetrated the glass, reminding him they were in full view of the party going on inside. He turned her hand slightly, noting the tracery of blue veins beneath the silver-pale skin at her wrist. He bent forward and lifted her wrist to his lips, pressing them against satin skin where her pulse beat frantically, like a captured butterfly. She clearly wasn’t as unmoved as she tried to project.

“Just keeping up appearances,” he smiled grimly when she yanked her hand away as though his touch had burned her. “Oh, and Gwen?”

“What?”

“Thank you. You won’t regret it.”

“Regret it?” Gwen gave a sharp laugh as she turned to go inside. “I already do.”

Three

“Well, this certainly is an interesting turn of events.” Libby spoke from behind, her voice making Gwen jump. She needed to get a grip on these jitters. She was as skittish as a first time buyer at an auction.

“Don’t tease, Libby, it isn’t kind.”

“So, come on, how long has this been going on?” her friend drawled with a wink.

“Not long. It kind of took us both by surprise.” She clenched her hands at her sides, hoping Libby wouldn’t press her further. From the corner of her eye she saw Declan come back into the room—his presence effortlessly dominating the gathering.

Despite the way he’d treated her since Renata’s death, her gaze was continually drawn to him like metal filings to a magnet. The sensation of his lips still throbbed against her wrist. Unfortunately it was proving a great deal more difficult than she wanted to return her heartbeat to a regular rhythm. She couldn’t believe she’d agreed to go ahead with this. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out the whole situation wouldn’t work. There was still too much that lay between them. Forget the frying pan. She was jumping straight into the fire.

Libby pursed her lips and let out a low whistle, “He’s welcome to take me by surprise any day of the week. No objections here, chickie!”

Gwen forced a laugh through her lips, although her face felt as if it would crack if she tried any harder. All at once the tension of the day became unbearable and exhaustion struck her in waves.

“You know, I would never have picked you for his type,” Libby continued.

Gwen felt an unexpected pang. Didn’t her friend think she was up to the job? “Really?” Her voice was glacial.

Remorse chased across Libby’s face as she realised how her words had sounded. “Oh, heck, Gwen. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it the way that came out. But you know he certainly hasn’t been short of female company in the past few years.”

“It’s okay.”

But deep inside, Libby’s words struck home. Gwen had been the antithesis of Renata—cool and controlled when her friend had been full of fire and unpredictable. Since that dreadful night, after Renata’s funeral, he’d made it clear he wanted her the hell out of his life. As time had gone by Declan had been surrounded by female admirers of all ages and marital persuasions. So why ask her when he must have any number of eager candidates to help him access his trust fund? Unless it was because he knew he’d never make the mistake of falling in love with her. Somehow, the realization only made her feel worse.

“Are you okay, Gwen? You look all done in.”

“It’s been a heck of a day. I’ll be fine after a good night’s sleep.” Gwen crossed her fingers in the wild hope that it might be so simple. “I think I’d better head off, thanks for tonight.”

“I’ll see you home.” The two women wheeled at the sound of Declan’s voice. Before she could object, they’d said their goodnights and the warm, firm pressure of his hand at the small of her back was herding her out the door and down the carpeted corridor to the elevator bank.

As soon as the elevator arrived Gwen stepped in, distancing herself from the steady warmth emanating from Declan’s body. In the aftermath of tonight it would have been so easy to simply lean back against his strength, but Gwen had learned her lesson, and learned it the hard way. She couldn’t rely on any man, especially Declan Knight.

“I have my car here, you know,” she said as she moved away from the console of push buttons, leaving him to depress the ground floor button. “I can see myself home.”

“We’ll collect it tomorrow. Besides, you’re my fiancée. People would wonder why we didn’t go home together, especially tonight.” His tone was mildly teasing, but did nothing to relax her.

The ride to the ground floor was mercifully brief. Gwen stepped into the apartment building foyer anxious to clear her lungs of the subtle, yet enticing, fragrance he wore. A scent that made her want to bury her face at the base of his throat and inhale, deeply. To stroke the hollow at the base of his neck with the tip of her tongue and see if he tasted as good as he smelled—as good as she remembered. Hold it right there! she admonished swiftly. Don’t let him invade your mind like that.

“So, where are you parked?” Her voice echoed, a brittle sound in the empty lobby.

“In the basement.”

“Then why have we stopped at the ground floor?” Gwen went to get back in the lift.

Declan hooked one arm across her shoulders and steered her to the front door. “I thought we’d both benefit from a walk along the beach.”

“It’s late,” she protested.

“Yeah, I know. And you need your beauty sleep. But you need to unwind more. C’mon, this’ll only take a few minutes. Think of it as training for when we meet up with the rest of my family.”

Smarting slightly from the beauty sleep remark, Gwen let him guide her across the road and through the grassy reserve on the other side. Once they reached the sandy width of beach she bent to slip off her shoes and suddenly wished she hadn’t. Declan loomed over her, no mean feat when she topped five ten herself.

She felt small. Feminine. Vulnerable.

Despite the activity on the sidewalk, they were alone on the beach—entirely too intimate for comfort. Gwen jogged lightly to the water’s edge, letting the iridescent foam lick over her toes and wash up to her ankles, taking refuge in the sudden chill on her heated skin. The late summer night air was gentle, laden with the combination of scents from the ocean in front of her and the restaurants that lined the road parallel to the beach. A warm breeze caressed her hair and lifted the long strands to dance flirtatiously across her cheeks and against her lips.

“What makes you think we can make this work?” she asked, her voice carrying on the night breeze. She jumped as he replied from right behind her.

“We will. We have to.”

The grim determination in his voice was daunting. He was right. Somehow, despite the past, they had to make this work. But at what price? A small rogue wave threatened to soak them both. He effortlessly swung her away, out of its path. There was that feeling again. Feminine. Vulnerable.

The breath whooshed from her lungs in a soft ‘poof’ as her breasts pressed softly against his chest and, irrationally, she wished she could be closer. Her pulse jumped like water on a hot skillet as the flats of his palms stoked across and down her long spine and over her hips. Flames of heat licked about her body where he’d touched, defying every instinctive warning in her mind. Without realising it her body melted against the hardness of his, moulding to every plane as if it belonged there even though nothing could be further from the truth.

Declan’s hands whipped to her upper arms and he set her away from him, an indistinct oath barely emerging from his mouth.

“You okay?” His voice was a rumble from deep in his throat.

“I’m fine, thank you.” She was a little breathless and a warm tide of blood had rushed to her cheeks at the sensation of his unyielding body against her softer curves. Her body had moulded to his as if they’d never been apart, as if they’d never betrayed Renata’s memory—as if they, and not he and Renata, had belonged together. She turned away and walked carefully through the soft sand. Anything to create some distance from him and the decimating memories being with him evoked.

Declan slid out of his jacket, slung it over one shoulder and walked a few silent paces beside her. “We’re marrying for the right reasons.” His voice rumbled across the night air.

“Right reasons?” Gwen was startled. To her the right reasons were love, honour and respect. But then had she had all three in the forefront of her mind when she’d agreed to marry Steve? No. Safety, security and sameness. They’d been in the forefront of her mind, and look where that had got her. An ironic burst of laughter broke from her throat. “Care to name them?”

“Respect is one.”

Her eyebrows lifted as he verbalised the one word she felt sure could never describe their relationship. “Respect? After…? No, sorry, you’ll have to try harder than that. How can you say we have respect for one another?” The word couldn’t be further from the truth—loathing on his part maybe, but respect? No way.

“I respect your professional integrity. That’s what’s important here. As for the rest, we know exactly where we stand. Both of us know it isn’t a grand passion and we know it isn’t forever. No broken promises, no broken hearts.”

Gwen caught her lip between her teeth and stared out at the lights from the naval base blinking across the harbour. The burn of bitter rejection rose from her stomach. Could she do this? Oh, God, she hoped so. She couldn’t afford not to. A sudden sheen of frustrated tears filmed Gwen’s eyes. She blinked them away, furious at herself for almost exposing such weakness. She took a deep, steadying breath, then another. Finally satisfied she had her emotions under control she faced Declan. “Yes, of course. You’re right. I’d like to go home now.”

In silence they walked back across the road and to the ramp leading to the car park. As they approached the parking area Gwen halted in her steps.