Marriage in Name Only

Chapter ELEVEN


IT WAS A while before he could clear the haze from his mind and find his way back to something approaching rational. Somehow he’d managed to manoeuvre them both near enough to the edge of the pool to stretch out on the sand without drowning, and they lay wet and entwined like a couple of pieces of ragged river weed.

‘We’re going to burn,’ she said lazily. ‘All over. It won’t be pretty. And it’s guaranteed to be painful.’

He turned to look at her. Her arms were crossed over her eyes and her skin glistened with water but a satisfied smile curved her lips. In fact, she looked like the kitty cat who’d happily wallowed in a pond of cream.

His own smile was quick to follow. He rubbed the flat of his palm over the nearest breast and felt the hard little bead beneath. ‘You’d be pretty whatever colour your skin was.’

She swiped at his arm. ‘Charmer,’ she said, not looking at him. ‘Everyone knows lobster’s so last century.’ Shading her eyes, she sat up. ‘I seem to have lost a swimsuit.’

‘You don’t need one. Skinny dipping’s much more fun.’ He caught the glint of his ring on her finger and something strange stole through him. Something almost possessive. He firmed his jaw. Whatever it was, it was dangerous. ‘Time to move, then, if you don’t want to burn.’

He gripped her wrists and pulled her up. Their naked bodies bumped, those deep amber eyes met his. And again he was flooded with a wave of unfamiliar emotion.

They’d had sex, that was all, he told himself. Good, fast, honest, mind-blowing, mutually satisfying, all-the-way-to-heaven-and-back sex. So what was this tender afterglow of feelings? Why did he feel this … deep rush? Did she feel it too? He remained still, cuffing her wrists, and staring into her eyes searching for an answer. ‘You okay?’

A fleeting shadow crossed her gaze but maybe he’d misread it because it vanished with her smile. ‘Besides needing a shower and missing out on my spa session?’ She planted a kiss beneath his jaw. ‘But I’m feeling entirely too ravished to be annoyed. You?’

‘We both know there was never a spa session and my back will need some TLC later.’

‘Ah … sorry about that … I’ll make it up to you.’

She watched her finger tracing his left bicep and the inferno he’d thought they’d doused for now sparked anew with a speed and brightness that shocked him. More shocking; it wasn’t just spark that he wanted—he wanted Chloe’s spark. ‘I intend making sure you do. Chloe …’

‘Yes?’ Her finger remained where it was but her eyes flicked to his again, alive and alluring.

I want that feeling with you again. I want it so badly it scares the hell out of me. Her hand shifted slightly and the ring drew his attention for a second time. Frowning, he stepped back and brushed sand off his shoulders rather than haul her closer and test how soon and how bright that spark could catch again. ‘Why don’t you go have the first shower?’

‘What, no showering with a friend?’ Her voice was light and teasing. ‘This is the desert—we should all do our bit for the planet.’

He walked to the table, picked up the bottles of cola now wet with condensation and held one out to her. ‘If we get into that shower together, we’re going to end up using a hell of a lot more water than our quota.’

She blushed, which was odd, he thought, considering she was unashamedly stark naked, and after what they’d just done to each other in broad daylight. She took the bottle from his fingers. ‘Thanks.’

‘I’ll check out what’s on the menu for dinner,’ he said, deliberately turning away first.

Mindful of water conservation, Chloe showered fast with the fragrant gel provided. Her whole body sang—everywhere she touched she remembered how it had felt when Jordan had touched her. His magic fingers had wrought the most exquisite responses from her. No man had ever made her feel so alive. So feminine and desired.

She spent a longer time choosing from the scented massage creams on display and decided on a blend of frankincense, sandalwood, neroli and ylang ylang. The jar promised ‘To instil peacefulness’. She figured she needed it. Because eventually somehow she’d have to pay the price for what she’d done.

She’d succumbed and made love with her business partner. Jordan Blackstone, millionaire bachelor and playboy. And she wasn’t even sorry.

Yet.

She pushed negative thoughts away. Her reflection smiled back at her as she ran her fingers through her damp hair. Her shimmery off-one-shoulder kaftan with swirling colours of raspberry and tangerine highlighted the honey-blonde streaks. Her eyes looked bigger, brighter. I’ve-got-a-new-lover eyes. And with that warm glow to her skin, she actually looked pretty for once in her life.

You ‘d be pretty whatever colour your skin was.

Warmth closed around her heart like a gentle hand. Of course it was a line, and he’d been fondling her breast at the time, but it had made Chloe feel special. Sexy. Sensuous. Desired. And his eyes … she sighed … she was almost tempted to believe it hadn’t been just about sex because for an instant she’d seen something deeper before he’d blinked it away. He’d asked her if she was okay then gallantly insisted she take her shower while he organised dinner.

He wasn’t going to hang around when they got back to Australia—she wasn’t his tall, glamorous brunette type with PhD and whatever else tacked on the end of her name. Their lives were worlds apart. But she’d discovered Jordan wasn’t the shallow man she’d first thought. He was involved in charity work and genuinely cared about his staff and friends unlike so many men she’d met over the last few years. During this trip he’d been protective, considerate and generous.

She trusted him in a way she’d never trusted a man before. And against all the defences she’d put up, she was falling for him in a big way. It was so much more than just the business aspect of their relationship. He’d made her feel as if some dreams could come true. If nothing else, she was learning he was someone she could count on no matter what. He made her feel special.

She had a horrible fear there’d be tears when they parted. But hurts and disappointments and moving on were her life. She wouldn’t change anything just because she was falling for a guy who wouldn’t be there in the long term. She’d do what she always did—live for today and think about the future when it arrived.

While Chloe spent the next hour reading and relaxing in their luxury accommodation, Jordan showered then went over his plans for his meeting with the sheikh. She couldn’t resist looking up every now and again to ensure it wasn’t a dream. That the bare-chested man in the loose khaki shorts who’d done the wild thing with her was still there, and still as gorgeous and sexy as ever.

As the golden afternoon sky turned to crimson and purple and the air lost its sting, the Jeep arrived. The pair greeted their hosts and waited while Kadar and his wife unloaded fresh scented towels and trays of aromatic food.

Kadar raised flaps at intervals around the tent to let in the cooling breeze and bring the desert atmosphere inside while his wife spread the feast on a low table and lit fragrant sandalwood and beeswax candles inside the Moroccan lamps. The flickering light cast an intimate glow. They wished them a pleasant evening, then left discreetly.

‘Hungry yet?’ Jordan set his paperwork aside.

‘Famished.’ Chloe stretched luxuriously, then strolled to the table where Jordan was sitting and massaged his shoulders a moment. She loved that her new status as his lover gave her permission to touch him whenever she pleased. ‘How about you?’

He grasped her hands over his shoulders, pulling her close and catching her ear between his teeth. ‘So ravenous I could start on that delectable bare shoulder.’

‘Later,’ she promised. ‘What have you ordered?’

‘Come and find out.’ He stood, and, fingers still linked, they walked to where the food was set.

He poured the chilled wine into what were probably genuine gold goblets, handed her one. ‘To success.’

‘To success.’ Setting her goblet down, Chloe stabbed at a falafel with her fork, lifted it to her mouth and chewed. ‘These are yummy.’ She reached for another.

‘Slowly. You’ll give yourself indigestion.’ He chuckled at her fast-food habit. ‘This isn’t Burger Supreme Central. Food is meant to be savoured and enjoyed. Try this.’ He ladled something from a bowl, held the spoon out to her. ‘Close your eyes and tell me what you can taste.’

‘Turmeric, coriander, ginger and chilli. What is it?’

‘Goat curry. One of my favourite dishes.’

The faint trickle of water and rustlings of tiny desert creatures beyond the tent could be heard between conversation that concentrated mainly on Jordan tutoring Chloe in the arts of leisurely fine wining and dining.

Eventually, Chloe excused herself to go to the bathroom. She almost laughed as she swished her hands beneath the tepid water. She’d served at fine dining functions rather than dined. But unlike Stewart, Jordan didn’t seem to care about class distinctions; he treated people as equals.

She was drying her hands when she saw Jordan’s wedding ring beside his toiletry bag and picked it up. Heavy. Must be worth a fortune. Why would he want to spend so much on a wedding ring for a fake marriage? As she held it in her palm she caught sight of some text inscribed inside. Jordan and Lynette forever. It was dated six years ago.

That lighter-than-air, on-top-of-the-world feeling deflated under the weight of doubts and questions.

Okay. Calm down, she told herself, her fingers curling around the ring. He wasn’t married now.

Or was he?

Spots danced before her eyes. Had he been lying to her all along? Making a cheap and sordid mockery of what they’d done this afternoon?

No! She refused to believe it, but nevertheless a band clamped around her stomach, so tight she thought she might throw up.

Some things were none of her business but he hadn’t simply left this information out of their conversation; he’d specifically told her he’d never been married.

By the time she went back inside, she had her nerves under control and joined him on the sofa where he’d poured Turkish coffee for both of them.

She took her cup and sipped. ‘You’re not wearing your ring.’

He glanced down at his bare finger. ‘Noticed like a true wife.’

She fixed him with a stare. ‘And you’d know this how? The wife bit,’ she clarified, when his brows drew down in confusion. Or was it guilt?

‘The suncream got under it when I rubbed you down. I took if off when I had a shower and forgot about it. It’s in the bathroom …’ His hesitation and his eyes told her what she wanted to know. ‘You found it,’ he said unnecessarily. Along with the information he’d neglected to mention.

‘I did.’ She held it up between finger and thumb, looked at the inscription again. ‘Want to explain?’

‘Not particularly.’

She wished her own expression were as skilled in keeping secrets as his was. ‘I imagined you’d say that.’ She set the ring on the table in front of him with a clink of metal on wood. ‘Jordan and Lynette forever, huh?’

He tensed and a muscle in his jaw tightened. ‘I’m not married, Chloe.’ When she didn’t answer—which in itself was her answer—he said, ‘Don’t you think the media would have had a field day with that information by now if Lynette and I had been married?’

She hadn’t thought that far. ‘You owe me some explanation at least.’

He raised his brows as if to say he owed her nothing of the kind. ‘Do business partners need to know the intimate details of each other’s love lives?’

He was coolly twisting this around to suit the circumstances. To suit himself. She reined in her resentment and the hurt. ‘We went way past business partners this afternoon and you’ve made me feel like an idiot. You know about my family and why I agreed to this arrangement with you. I told you about Markos and how he made a fool of me.

‘But you?’ She pointed an accusing finger at his chest. ‘You’ve kept yourself to yourself. And no one makes a fool of Jordan Blackstone, right? Because unlike some, you can afford to cover up a scandal.’

In the flickering light his expression changed, changed again. Acceptance to defensiveness to … understanding? ‘Chloe. No scandal, I promise. And I’m sorry you feel that way. It wasn’t my intention.’

‘Not your intention to make a fool of me or not your intention to tell me about Lynette?’

Jordan saw a suspicious chin wobble and despised himself. His pride and his need for control—his evasiveness—had hurt the one person he least wanted to hurt. He reached out and cupped her jaw between his hands and looked into her eyes. ‘Listen to me. You are not a fool, Chloe Montgomery. You’re clever and honest and witty. You’re generous and compassionate. And one of a kind.’

‘High praise coming from my employer.’ Her smile was tinged with sadness—as if those qualities he valued in her didn’t count in her mind. As if she wanted more.

‘Partner.’ He hesitated. ‘Friend.’

‘Does the term lover scare you, Jordan?’ She pushed his hands away from her face. ‘But you’re changing the subject. Again. If you don’t want to talk about Lynette, that’s fine.’ She shrugged. ‘It’s not as if we’re going to see each other after this week anyway.’

The words were unexpected and something flashed through his system and was gone, like lightning, leaving a strange burnt-out, hollow sensation. ‘There’s nothing in our agreement that says we can’t continue to see each other if we want.’

Doubt and something like resignation clouded her eyes. ‘If we’re in the same city. Or even in the same country.’

‘Come here, Blondie.’ He pulled her to him, tucked her against his side and kissed her sweet-smelling hair. Their relationship might be temporary but it wasn’t over yet and he wanted to give her at least something of what she wanted to hear. ‘Lynette was someone I met at uni.’

‘Just someone? You had a wedding ring. Presumably she had one too. Oh … Jordan.’ She turned her face up to his, a groove between her brows, her eyes worried. ‘Please, don’t tell me she …’

‘No. We were going to get married. It just didn’t happen.’

‘Why not?’

‘We wanted different things.’

‘But you kept the ring,’ she said softly. ‘You wanted a reminder.’

Hell, yes. ‘Not for any foolish sentimental reason. I keep it to remind me that I’m not, and never will be, a marrying man.’

Her eyes welled up with sympathy. ‘What did she do to destroy that for you?’

Frustrated that she’d assume a woman could wield that kind of power over him, he grabbed the damn thing, jammed it on his finger. ‘What makes you think it was her? What makes you so sure I didn’t break her heart?’

‘I’m not sure. Because you haven’t told me. But your words and actions since we agreed to this arrangement would indicate she’s the one who did a number on you and not the other way round.’

The woman’s insight and gentle compassion weren’t something Jordan knew how to deal with. She was scraping dangerously close to a raw spot he’d almost forgotten he had. ‘It’s in the past—leave it there.’

As a distraction, he touched her bare shoulder with a finger—smooth ivory—and felt a little shiver run through her. ‘We’re never going to have another night like this, Blondie. Let’s not waste it.’

Whisky eyes turned black in the amber candlelight and a slow smile drifted over her lips. ‘Let’s not.’ She rose and stood before him, gaze locked on his, confident in her femininity.

Sensing she wanted his attention for the moment but not his touch, he remained where he was. A messy flaxen halo around that elfin face with her too-big eyes that drew you in until you lost a part of yourself. Confident, yes, but also small and delicate and easily damaged. He wanted to tuck her inside the pocket of his jacket and keep her safe, next to his heart. Just keep her …

She pushed the garment off her shoulder and the silk slithered to the floor in a vibrant kaleidoscope of colour, leaving a vision of alabaster skin and lush curves and violet lace.

His heart pounded, his groin tightened and he curled his hands into fists on his thighs to stop himself reaching for her. Maybe it was the mystical romance of the silken tent or their exotic location or the drift of beeswax and sandalwood from the candles, but no woman had ever enchanted him so.

Was he ready for another woman in his life? he wondered. Then stopped wondering anything at all because all his blood drained from his brain as she unclasped her bra and dropped it at her feet. Her breasts were perfection, like succulent ripe fruit waiting to be relished.

She pushed the lace panties down over her hips and stepped out of them. A symphony of shadows and light played over her body. He might have groaned but he was no longer certain of his own responses, so absorbed was he with the vision in front of him.

Deep, intimate silence shimmered in the air between them, broken by the intermittent sputtering of a candle, a night creature fossicking in the palms outside, the sound of their own heightened breathing.

She held out her hands, candlelight gilding her eyes. ‘Take me to bed, Jordan.’

He needed no second bidding. Scooping up her slender form, he held her against his chest, and as he watched the emotion flicker over her face he lost himself for a moment in a fantasy.

She was as light as the desert breeze wafting through the hanging silks as he carried her to their bed. Because he just wanted to watch her a moment, he made a place for her amongst the mountain of pillows and laid her down. Stripping off his shorts, he climbed onto the bed, his thighs straddling hers.

To please himself, he fanned her hair out on either side of her head. To please her, he stroked her body from neck to thighs with feather-light touches that roused goose bumps along her flesh. To please them both, he lowered his mouth to one breast and closed his lips over the puckered tip while he brushed his fingers slowly over the curve of its twin.

They had all night so he lingered where he might have rushed. Took the time to enjoy the nuances of flavour and texture and fragrance—of her skin and hair, mouth and tongue. And she responded like a dream. Low intimate murmurs, the slow, sensuous glide of flesh on flesh, her hands and mouth unerringly seeking out places where he liked to be touched.

Rumpled silk sheets and air warm with the scent of passion. Candles sputtered and died. The velvet night seduced and soothed as the moon drifted across the sky, its cool light shafting through the tent’s open flaps, painting skin an ethereal silver.

And when at last he lost himself inside her and the sounds of shared passion filled the air, it wasn’t with a rush of speed, but with an abiding tenderness he’d never known he possessed.