Marriage in Name Only

Chapter SIX


‘HOW NEWLYWED ARE we talking?’ Chloe asked when they got down to business ten minutes later. She’d unearthed a notepad from the kitchen and was committing their ideas to paper for future reference. She’d drawn up two columns: one for plans—flights, accommodation, sightseeing she intended to get in while she was there; the other for ‘getting acquainted’. Such as background and personal details, real and invented. It kept her hands busy, her eyes down and also helped her to keep everything on a professional level.

‘We’re combining business with our honeymoon.’

A small smile hooked the corner of her mouth. ‘That doesn’t make you a very good husband.’

‘But you’re a very supportive wife and you understand my commitment to business. Besides, once you’d manipulated me into popping the question, you didn’t want to wait another day.’

Manipulated? She did look up at him then and noticed a tightening around his mouth, which transformed into a lopsided grin when he caught her staring at him.

‘But I’m happy you did, Blondie,’ he assured her quickly.

‘Yeah? For how long?’ She couldn’t imagine anyone manipulating Jordan but the stormy depths of his gaze told her someone had tried.

‘Eternity. Right?’

She narrowed her eyes. ‘Have you been married before?’

‘No.’

Do I look stupid? She received his message loud and clear. His blatant cynicism annoyed her. ‘You’d better change that attitude before we get there or it’ll be game over before we start,’ she said, frowning back at her notes. ‘Seriously.’

‘I am serious. How can you doubt it after the time and effort and expense I’m putting in to make it happen?’

‘Right.’ She wrote COMMITMENT PHOBIC in her ‘getting acquainted’ column. She believed in marriage when two people loved and trusted each other and were committed to making it work. But after Stewart, she didn’t believe that she personally could do the trust or even the long-term bit. Or maybe she was afraid to believe.

Did that make her as commitment phobic as him? she wondered momentarily. Not at all, she told herself. She wasn’t phobic, just … careful. Right?

‘I’m also serious about sharing a little pleasure around the business aspect,’ he said.

‘Well, maybe I’m not.’ She added APPROACH AT OWN PERIL to the list and slapped her notepad shut.

‘You were enjoying it fine a few moments ago.’ His eyes dared her to take issue with the inconvenient truth.

‘You didn’t give me time to … to change my mind,’ she said, dismissing their kiss. ‘I wasn’t ready.’

‘You’ve been ready since the last time we bumped lips.’ Bracing his forearms on his knees, he gave her that sexy grin that made her want to throw herself onto the couch next to him and beg him to do it again.

‘No.’

‘Come on, you were curious. And it was good, right?’

She exhaled through her nostrils. ‘Okay. Fine. It was good.’

‘As good as you expected?’

He just had to keep pushing, didn’t he? ‘It was right up there with white-water rafting, New Year’s Eve sky shows and soft-centre chocolates. Satisfied?’

‘Not nearly.’

‘But it’s not going to happen again,’ she went on, tapping her notebook with her pen. ‘It muddies our business relationship.’

His grin widened. ‘I disagree. Our business relationship is about making our “recent marriage” look legitimate to our target audience.’

‘We can still do that. I can still do that. It’s what you’re paying me for.’ Which reminded her—the purpose of tonight’s meeting. ‘Think of me as a conservative, no-nonsense, PA …’

‘Hard to imagine when none of those labels suit you.’

‘Then don’t think or imagine, just listen and discuss.’ Flipping open her notepad again, she clicked her pen. ‘Accommodation—’

‘Already taken care of.’ He grinned, the lines around his eyes crinkling. He shrugged when she glared. ‘Can’t help it—I do like an enthusiastic partner.’

An image played behind her eyes. A very active, very inappropriate image. He means business partner, Chloe. Didn’t he? ‘I … You’re making this difficult.’

‘Tell you what, we can go over this tomorrow evening at the airport or onboard our flight,’ he said, setting his mug on the coffee table in front of him. ‘It’s late. We’ll call it a night.’

She let out a sigh. ‘You don’t know how relieved I am to hear that. I have so much to organise. To pack.’

But her entire wardrobe fitted into one large suitcase and her relief was short-lived. The Jordan Blackstone she’d seen online dated stunning, statuesque women who knew how to dress to impress. He’d have been better off choosing someone with a sense of fashion who already knew the role to play the part. ‘I’m not a fashionista—I’m more of a jeans and T-shirt kind of girl. What am I expected to wear?’

‘We’ll have a day to shop when we get there.’ He rose, pulling a bunch of keys from his trouser pocket and drawing her attention to where it shouldn’t be drawn. ‘I’ll call you in the morning.’

She followed his broad shape down the hall, trying not to admire the back of his tanned neck below the neat trim of dark hair. That earlier anticipation was sparking again, like two live wires touching.

Was he going to try to kiss her good night?

Was she going to let him?

But he opened the door then leaned close, kissed her chastely on the cheek. ‘‘Night, Blondie.’ He stepped out into the evening.

‘‘Night …’ She felt like a teenager, giddy with first-date fever, hanging on to the doorframe and wishing he’d come back and kiss her again, properly this time. ‘And thanks for the wonderful dinner.’

His playful gaze didn’t waver but a hint of something more intimate infused the cerulean with shades of midnight, making her heart leap beneath her breastbone.

‘The first of many wonderful things,’ he said, jingling his keys in his hand. ‘Now get some sleep.’

She intended to. She had a feeling she was going to need it. The first of many wonderful things. His words—a promise?—danced in her head like sugar plum fairies. It was going to be next to impossible to keep her mind focused where it needed to be.

It was going to be next to impossible to keep his mind focused where it needed to be. Jordan lowered his window and let the winter’s damp chill wrap around his neck as he drove back to his apartment. Perhaps it would help cool his blood and redirect it to his brain instead of his groin.

For God’s sake.

He barely noticed that the view of Melbourne’s CBD through his windscreen was blurred with rain—he was too preoccupied with thinking about the way Chloe’s hair had felt against his fingers. Its cool, delicate fragrance and how it would feel brushing low over his belly as she—

Damn. He blew out a disgusted breath, shifting in his seat and tightening his grip on the wheel. He’d never had trouble focusing and he wasn’t starting now. Chloe Montgomery might be his current red-hot fantasy but she was a means to an end and he was forgetting what was important here. She was being paid to play a role, and with her help he was finally going to settle an old debt.

But he recalled her stunned surprise when he’d planted that first proper kiss on her soft lips and couldn’t help the smile that touched his mouth. The delightful way she’d tried to push away only to change her mind. The feel of her firm breasts against his chest. Her taste—sweet and spice and everything nice.

He turned into his apartment complex’s underground parking. The security door rose with a hum. Not the only thing humming, he thought, still smiling, as he drove through then manoeuvred into his parking spot. He couldn’t wait for tomorrow evening. To see her again. To be on his way. To move forward with the next stage of his life.

Yeah, everything about this trip was going to be sweet.

Dawn was grey with a dusky pink glow, the city’s twinkling blanket of lights spread out below when Jordan embarked on a rigorous morning workout a few sleepless hours later.

In the interim, he’d spoken at length with Qasim and everything was arranged with their meeting in two days’ time. He’d confirmed the accommodation, the best that money could buy, and organised a driver to be on call while they were there.

He was cycling hard and going nowhere to the beat of his favourite rock band when a lemon sun, partially obscured by high-rises, lifted into the sky at seven-thirty. Through his gym’s floor-to-ceiling glass, Jordan watched the caterpillars of traffic below crawl along and figured Chloe should be up by now.

Still pedalling, he disconnected his music, scrolled to her number and turned his phone on loudspeaker.

She answered on the second ring—’’Lo’—filling the room with her husky, sleepy, too-close-for-comfort murmur.

‘You’re not still in bed, are you?’

A pause, followed by a shushing, shifting, tantalisingly erotic sound that seemed to reach through the speaker to stroke his crotch. ‘Why?’

Why? Because he didn’t want her to be still in bed because he didn’t want to imagine her still warm and soft with sleep, firm flat tummy exposed beneath rumpled flannelette pyjamas. He stepped up his pace on the bike and said, ‘I took you for an early riser.’

‘Did you? Why?’

Hell if he knew. ‘So you’re not?’

‘Not what?’ Breathless pause. ‘In bed?’

‘No—an early riser.’ He blew out a harried breath. ‘Are you still in bed or not?’

‘No. Actually I’ve just stepped out of the shower.’

Naked. Worse, much worse. She was naked, and the shifting sound was more like a rubbing sound now that he knew it had to be a towel. Against heat-pinkened flesh. He let out a long, low groan.

‘Are you okay?’ she said sharply. ‘What are you doing?’

‘You shouldn’t ask a man that question first thing in the morning when you’re naked and rubbing yourself with a towel.’

He heard a slight catch of breath then, ‘Oh … Oh.’

‘I’m riding a bike, Chloe.’ And damn uncomfortable it was, too.

‘Where?’

‘Home gym. I’d invite you over for breakfast,’ he said, dismounting and heading to his en-suite, ‘but the traffic’s chaos.’

‘I’ve eaten already.’

So she was a step ahead of him. ‘Flannelette pyjamas,’ he murmured, toeing off his trainers along the way.

‘What?’

‘Never mind.’ He turned his attention to more immediate matters as he stripped down and flung his jocks in the laundry basket. ‘We need to shop this morning. I’ll drop by around twelve. Be packed, we won’t be going home after.’

‘I thought we were going shopping in Dubai?’

‘There’s something we need to get before we leave.’

‘Twelve’s okay … but—’

‘I’ll see you then,’ he told her before she could quiz him further, and disconnected.

He padded back to his bedroom for a change of clothes. He had two more calls to make. ‘Hey,’ he replied when Sadiq answered. ‘Hope I’m not catching you at an inconvenient time?’

‘On my way out but I was going to call you later this morning anyway since I hadn’t heard from you. What’s happening with Dubai?’

‘Yeah. I’ve talked with Qasim again. The meeting’s all set and I’ll be flying out later this evening.’

‘Sounds promising.’

Jordan pulled a caramel toffee-coloured jumper from a drawer. ‘I’m taking Chloe with me.’

‘Chloe.’ Jordan could almost hear Sadiq’s ears prick up.

‘I took your advice.’

‘So you’re stealing her away from Dana?’ Sadiq chuckled. ‘Dana won’t be pleased—Chloe’s her new favourite worker.’

‘I’ll write dear Dana a cheque to cover a fill-in temp’s wages for a couple of weeks—she’ll be pleased enough.’

‘How did you manage it?’ Sadiq queried. ‘Chloe didn’t look too happy to see you at Sunday brunch. Did you work the Blackstone charm again?’

Jordan rifled through his sock drawer for his favourites, tossing a couple of orphans on the floor in the process. ‘I simply made her an offer she couldn’t refuse.’

‘And …’

‘Let’s just say we have an arrangement.’

‘Sounds … cosy.’

‘A business arrangement. And not for public knowledge.’ Not even Sadiq need know the details, except Jordan had the feeling the man had it figured out already. ‘Not a word to anyone, my trusted friend,’ he cautioned as he headed for the shower. ‘I want the press kept well out of it.’ He paused. ‘And if Qasim and you talk at any stage and I happen to come up in conversation … just play along with whatever he says, okay?’

‘Aah.’

Perceptive man, Sadiq. ‘Thanks. Gotta go.’

‘Good luck.’

Chloe was out on the veranda with her travel-battered bag by eleven forty-five. She’d left a note for her absent housemates on the kitchen table along with the next rent payment in cash. With her new-look bank balance that she was still getting used to, it had been easy peasy.

She’d also deposited a five-figure amount in her parents’ account and it had only made a small dent in the overall balance. The knowledge blew her away. And there was still the other half of the payment expected at the end.

An icy wind snuck in under the roof and around the veranda posts, chilling her face, but she rubbed sweaty palms down her jeans. This trip was a whole new experience, like a scary fun park ride in a new dimension.

Dana had rung a couple of hours ago to wish her a successful trip. Chloe had detected a knowing smile in her boss’s voice when she’d told her to ‘take care and enjoy yourself’.

What had Jordan said to the woman? Or had Dana just assumed Chloe would be bowled over by his charm and ready to run off with him at the drop of a hat? She told herself as long as her job was still available when she came back, she didn’t care what Dana assumed.

She was checking her watch for the zillionth time when a luxury car pulled up. Jordan unfolded his long body from the front passenger seat and stepped out to open the rear door. Dark glasses shielded his eyes. His caramel V-neck jumper over an open brown shirt and well-worn jeans that clung to his butt like a denim glove elicited a soft sigh of feminine appreciation from Chloe as she walked down the short path to the gate.

‘Morning.’ He smiled—a tempting smile that reminded her all over again of last night’s kiss—and raised a hand in greeting. The wind tossed his hair so that it stood up in short tufts on top of his head.

‘Morning.’ She’d not seen him in casual clothes before. He almost looked like a different man—more accessible, more fun perhaps, than the corporate suited guy she was still getting acquainted with—but no less impressive. Or gorgeous, or sexy. Or beddable.

Bad thought, very bad thought. She mentally berated herself and whisked her trolley bag to the kerb. There was going to be none of that. She exchanged greetings with the uniformed driver as he loaded her bag into the boot.

‘Right on time.’ Jordan gestured her into the car.

‘You sound surprised,’ she said, climbing in.

‘More like pleased.’ He shut the door, rounded the boot, and climbed in beside her on the other side. Even though the car was more like a limo, his long legs took up most of the floor space, leaving her to cram up alongside. Or maybe he’d just engineered it that way.

‘You make it sound as if men are the only ones capable of time management.’

‘I’ve yet to meet a date who hasn’t kept me waiting.’

With the high-maintenance, salon-treatment-three-times-a-week siliconed and Botoxed beauties she’d seen hanging on his arm in the glossy magazines, she didn’t doubt it.

Or was she being unkind? Worse, jealous?

No, of course she wasn’t. And because she was a big believer in punctuality being all about respect, she couldn’t resist saying, ‘You’ve been dating the wrong women, then.’

He was checking inside the pocket of his jacket that lay on the seat between them but his gaze shifted and focused on her. Not smiling. Prickles of heat rose up her neck, into her cheeks. He seemed to take an eternity before he said slowly, ‘Maybe I have.’

Oh, no, she had sounded jealous. She wished she knew how he felt about that but she couldn’t read his eyes behind his dark glasses. And she so wished she’d never spoken those petty little words just because those glossy glams got to her. Who was Chloe to tell Jordan Blackstone, millionaire, what kind of woman he needed?

Rather than try to explain her way out, she crossed her arms over her chest and glared out of the window as they neared the city. A tram rattled past as they drove along Collins Street, congested with lunch-time office workers. ‘In case you’ve forgotten, this is not a date.’

‘I haven’t forgotten. It’s much more important than that. Chloe, look at me.’

She continued to stare at the street-scape but his powerful gaze on the back of her head drew her against her will—how did he continually manage that?

‘Are you still okay with everything?’ he asked. ‘Because being defensive and prickly around me isn’t going to help us.’

‘I’m not being prickly … am I?’ She deliberately breathed out, smoothed and relaxed taut muscles. ‘I don’t mean to be.’

‘Just be aware of it when we’re with other people,’ he said as the car pulled into the kerb in front of a shiny black granite office building. ‘Here we are.’

‘Where, exactly?’

‘We have an appointment.’ Jordan withdrew his wallet from his jacket, slipped it into the back pocket of his jeans. ‘You might want to put on your sunglasses,’ he said, opening his door. ‘I promised to protect you from the press but they’re always where you least expect.’

She fished around in her bag while he came around the car to her side, then slid them on her face.

He hustled her towards the revolving glass door. ‘What about our driver?’ she asked as they approached the bank of elevators. ‘I assume you know him?’

They stepped into an empty lift and he pressed the button for the tenth floor. ‘He’s a member of my staff here. I pay him to be discreet.’

She took off the glasses, put them in her bag. ‘What do you mean by “here”?’

‘Rivergold’s head office is in Perth. I divide my time between the two cities.’

The doors slid open and they stepped out into a foyer with deep violet walls and concealed lighting. The word Gilded hovered above the reception desk in flowing gold script.

Jewellery, Chloe realised. Expensive, exclusive jewellery. She discovered first up that Jordan and the receptionist—Trudi—were on a first-name basis.

Trudi was all smiles for Jordan—naturally—and led them down a wide corridor, keyed a code into a heavy door and showed them into a comfortable room overlooking the city. She offered them refreshments, Jordan ordered water for the both of them, then another staff member called Trudi away, which left the two of them alone.

Chloe had always insisted jewellery didn’t match her lifestyle. She’d choose an airline ticket to an exotic destination over pretty but essentially useless baubles any day. ‘I … urn. I’m not much of a jewellery person.’

He glanced at her hands. ‘I’ve noticed. But we need wedding rings.’

‘Wedding rings …’ she echoed. Of course, wedding rings.

‘You’re okay with that, I hope.’

‘I just hadn’t given it a thought. But this place is …’ ridiculously expensive and overpriced. She waved her hand to encompass the leather armchairs, the glass-topped table for private showings with its neatly rolled up little black velvet mat on one end. ‘We could’ve gone somewhere cheaper, is all I’m saying. After all, it’s not as if it’s for real.’

But for a brief heartbeat in time, she wondered how it would feel if it were and something inside her yearned before she shoved it away, deep in that place where she’d never find it again. Never wanted to find it again. Not with a man like Jordan—rich, powerful, gorgeous. Like Stewart.

A heartbreak waiting to happen.

She realised he was staring her down, his eyes a shade of cool logic. ‘I own a gold mine, we’re meeting a gold manufacturer in the hope that he and I will do business. With gold. What if he or his wife asks to look at your shiny new ring? And even if they don’t ask, do you think he’s not going to notice?’

‘Oh … of course.’ She closed her eyes briefly, embarrassed at her own stupidity. ‘I hadn’t thought about it.’ And she needed to start—thinking about it. All of it. Like how not in his class she was and how impossible anything long-term or meaningful between them could ever be.

A smartly dressed middle-aged man entered the room with half a dozen jewellery trays. ‘Jordan. So good to see you.’ He beamed as he set the trays on the glass table and shook hands with Jordan, then extended his hand to Chloe. ‘And Miss Montgomery, welcome.’

‘Chloe, this is Kieron,’ Jordan said as she shook the man’s hand.

‘Thank you, and call me Chloe.’

‘This must be an exciting time for you.’ He smiled, clearly expecting an answer.

‘Yeah … um …’ How much did he know? She glanced at Jordan for help but he was checking out the goodie trays. Damn him. ‘We’re … um … looking forward to it …’ Whatever it was.

‘What’s your colour preference in gold?’ Jordan asked without turning around.

She shifted, vaguely awkward in Kieron’s presence and cursing Jordan some more for not paying attention. ‘I’m not particular.’

‘In that case we’ll go with yellow,’ he said. ‘Sit down and let’s get started.’

Kieron spread out the mat and placed a tray on the table, exquisite rings, all embedded with diamonds and other precious stones and sparkling in the down lights.

Jordan selected a couple of highly visual and elaborate rings and set them on the mat. ‘Which do you prefer?’

‘Do you have a plain gold band?’ she almost pleaded with him. ‘Thin. Plain.’

Jordan met her eyes. ‘Kieron, can you give us a few moments, please?’

‘Of course. I’ll see what I can find in plain gold—’

‘No need,’ Jordan said, his gaze not leaving hers. ‘I’m sure we’ll find something here. I’ll give you a call when we’re done.’

‘What do you mean?’ she demanded in a tight, low voice almost before the man had closed the door behind him. ‘I don’t want—’

‘It’s not about what you want. You—rather, we—need something ostentatious.’

‘What about you? Your ring? Is this marriage going to be one based on inequality?’

He opened his palm, revealing a thick gold ring. ‘Men’s wedding band channel-set with black diamonds.’ He set it in front of her. ‘I can’t have mine outshining yours.’

‘Why can’t you choose something simpler?’

‘Because the ring has to make a statement. It has to shout, “We’re married and exclusive and we want the world to know”. It also says only Rivergold’s gold is good enough for the love of my life.’

‘So Gilded is your business?’

‘One of them. What about this?’ He picked up a smaller ring from the tray, a band of gold filigree, its dainty vine-leaf pattern studded with tiny diamonds. Kind of classic yet modern and delicate.

She told herself it wasn’t the most gorgeous ring she’d ever seen. It wouldn’t fit. It wasn’t practical. But this time perhaps she could have the exotic destination and the pretty bauble. And oh … She sighed at the misty-eyed romance of it.

And just for once, she wanted misty-eyed romantic and impractical. It wasn’t forever, she reassured herself. It didn’t mean she was going to fall into bed with him—or worse, into love. No way. No how. No—

‘I think it’ll suit you. Try it.’ Jordan reached across the table and took her hand.

As if from a distance, she watched him slide the ring onto her finger. The abrading sensation of his fingertips against hers, every nerve ending he touched tingling like tiny pinpricks of fire. Her hand looked so small in his. His fingers were long and tanned, his wrist thick and dusted with dark hair.

She couldn’t seem to move, couldn’t seem to drag her eyes away from their linked hands. It was like being in someone else’s dream—someone else’s because Chloe no longer allowed herself to dream such fantasies.

He eased the ring over her knuckle. Perfect fit. Perfect design. Perfect.

‘Chloe …’ he said, deep and dreamy and masculine. Will you be my wife?