Two Italian billionaires in one volume—for the first time!—by USA TODAY bestselling author Maisey Yates.

His Virgin Acquisition

When Elaine Chapman gives her presentation to Marco De Luca she thinks she can be cool and collected. She’s wrong! The fierce tycoon can see straight through her shapeless suit and get right under her skin. Suddenly she’s not so confident in her proposal of marriage as the perfect business arrangement. Especially when Marco makes it clear he wants a wife by his side day…and night!

Her Little White Lie

Paige Harper and her boss, Dante Romani, lead completely separate lives. So when she tells the adoption agency a lie about her relationship to him, she never imagines he’ll find out. But with the headlines announcing their engagement, Dante demands they turn fiction into fact…including where they spend their nights!

THE BILLIONAIRES COLLECTION

High-powered negotiations, exotic locales and lavish parties…marriages of convenience, surprise pregnancies and undeniable passions. This 2-in-1 collection will take you into the luxurious world of the rich and powerful, where all that you could ever desire is at your fingertips.…

But for these irresistible tycoons, the thing they want the most is the thing they’ll have to work the hardest to attain.… Because the stakes are never higher for these passionate, jet-setting men than when they’re fighting for the affection of the women they love.

The Italian Proposal

His Virgin Acquisition

Her Little White Lie

Maisey Yates

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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CONTENTS

HIS VIRGIN ACQUISITION

HER LITTLE WHITE LIE

His Virgin Acquisition

Maisey Yates

To the MH mavens, my dear sisters.

Thanks for your insight, your support, and most of all your friendship.

And to my husband, Haven.

Without you I wouldn’t know what romance is.

CONTENTS

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

CHAPTER ONE

“I THINK THE NUMBERS speak for themselves. Marriage is definitely the most profitable course of action.”

It seemed Elaine Chapman had finally come to the end of her lengthy presentation.

Marco De Luca scanned the expanse of his office, looking for hidden cameras or some other sign that she was here on assignment from a reality show. There was no way she could be serious.

He didn’t spot a blinking camera light anywhere, nor did he detect an ounce of insincerity in her tone. He stopped his search and locked his eyes onto her determined face. She was serious. Although why that should come as a shock he wasn’t sure. Ms. Chapman was known for using whatever means necessary to get ahead. Including her body.

Marco’s gaze swept her up and down. “Marriage? To you?”

Elaine’s face heated at the incredulous note in his voice. She knew she wasn’t exactly Miss New York. Clearly Marco did too, as she seemed to recall reading somewhere that he’d once dated Miss New York, but she wasn’t that bad.

“Of what benefit could that possibly be to me?”

He leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head, delineating muscles that weren’t at all concealed by his tame button-up dress shirt. She forced her eyes back to his face. Who cared about his muscles? So he had them? Men did, after all. She did not need this distraction right now, or ever.

“Didn’t you pay attention to the chart?” She held up the colored graph for his further inspection.

“I heard what you said. But none of it was worth hearing. I’ve allowed you to waste twenty minutes of my valuable time, time that you couldn’t begin to afford to reimburse me for, and the business proposal you were supposed to come here and offer me turns out to be a marriage proposal? You’re lucky I haven’t called Security.”

He studied the tired, bleak-looking woman standing in front of him. He had only seen her on a few occasions, and even then it had been from a distance, but every time, even at formal charity balls, she had been in some variation of a black or navy blue pantsuit, her blond hair scraped back into a tight, unforgiving bun.

She was one of those women. The kind who seemed to think that they had to look like a man in order to compete in the business world. The sort of woman who took great care to disguise every trace of femininity she possessed. And this one did a particularly excellent job. He also knew that if she could use her femininity to her advantage she would do so without shame or scruples. Though he hadn’t experienced that personally.

“I’ve already explained how it benefits you.” She straightened her shapeless suit jacket and continued. “You’re a smart man, Mr. De Luca. You want the bottom line, so here it is: married men make more money than single men. That’s a fact. And you can’t pretend the statistic doesn’t interest you. Your reputation for expanding your company at almost any cost is legendary. A marriage between the two of us is a business strategy. A valid one.”

James Preston. The name swam through his mind. James was holding out on a multi-million-dollar deal because he couldn’t imagine handing over his beloved resort to a man who had no concept of the joys of a loving family. So instead he was out to find some family man to take it over. A family man who would have neither the time nor the drive that Marco had to offer the resort. Marco wanted the deal, no denying that, and as it stood he wasn’t going to get it. It had been gnawing at him for weeks. He didn’t do failure. Not anymore. He’d had enough of it.

But marriage seemed like an extreme solution; he’d spent thirty-three years avoiding the institution, and he had no desire to enter into it now.

“And you honestly think I’m going to stoop to marrying you to increase my profit margins?”

She pursed her lips, clearly unhappy with his choice of words. “Yes. I do. You’re a legend in the industry. Not just for all that you’ve achieved, although that’s impressive enough, but also for your ruthlessness, and that is something we share. Although my aim is considerably lower.”

“And how does this benefit you, Ms. Chapman?” He stood up from his position behind the desk and walked around to the other side of it, so he was standing directly in front of her, his arms crossed. “Because, businesswoman that you are, there has to be an angle.”

Elaine took a deep breath to steady herself. She had answers to all of his objections carefully prepared, but being on the receiving end of his intense dark gaze caused her well-rehearsed argument to get jumbled in her head.

She had never seen a man as gorgeous as he was on this side of the silver screen. He was the epitome of tall, dark and handsome, and he made her want to ditch her normally feminist persona in favor of that of a swooning Southern belle.

Swooning? Where had that come from? She’d never swooned in her life! She wasn’t even sure what swooning was.

She tried to collect her thoughts and continue on as rehearsed, but it was hard to concentrate when he was standing so close being all tall and handsome and intimidating and handsome. His masculinity was so potent it nearly reached out and grabbed her, or made her want to reach out and grab him. She had never had a fantasy before that she could recall, and here she was in the middle of a business presentation, entertaining predatory thoughts about the man to whom she was making her pitch. He was throwing her completely off balance.

She was starting to think she’d made a serious miscalculation. A very serious, very tall, very sexy miscalculation.

Taking a deep breath to banish her rogue thoughts, she pressed on, “My father, like most men his age, thinks a woman’s place is in the kitchen. And while I have no problem with a woman being in the kitchen, if that’s what she wants, it’s not what I want. I want the company, and he doesn’t seem to think I’m capable of running it.”

“Are you capable of running a company?” He leaned back against the desk and her eyes were drawn to his big hands, which were clutching the edge of the desk, supporting his weight. They were nice hands, masculine and callused. She hated smooth hands on a man. Well, theoretically she hated smooth hands on a man. Actually, she hadn’t given it much thought before.

She was letting herself get distracted again. This was not the time for latent hormones to be popping up and making themselves known. She wanted this. She needed this. Attractive or not, she was not letting this man stand in her way.

She drew up to her full height, which in her chunky heels put her at the bottom of his chin. “I am more than capable, and more than qualified. I have a business degree, I interned at a Fortune 500 company, and I’m currently working as the head accountant for a small marketing firm. You can rest assured that, with or without those qualifications, if I were my father’s son he would hand over the reins of the company to me with pride.”

“If you’re so incredibly competent why haven’t you simply branched out on your own?”

Her lips, lush when they weren’t pinned together in an uncompromising line, tightened, and she narrowed her eyes. “I would have. But my father had me sign a non-compete clause when I worked for him back when I was in college. I’m banned from starting a new business that might compete in any way with Chapman Electronics.”

“And you were foolish enough to sign it?”

He enjoyed watching the pink flush creep into her ivory cheeks. It made him wonder if she flushed the same color when she was aroused, which made him wonder just what it would take to arouse passion in a woman like Elaine. Spreadsheets, most likely.

“At the time I assumed the business would pass to me when he retired, so it seemed like a non-issue,” she said curtly.

“And you think that a marriage of convenience is going to help you out of this little situation you’ve landed yourself in?”

“I told you, I’ve done my research.” She took a step closer to him and put her hands on her hips, pulling that awful jacket tight, revealing a small waist and the gentle rounding of her breasts. “You’re set to acquire my father’s company upon his retirement.”

“And how exactly does marriage work to your advantage?”

“The contracts have already been signed, haven’t they?” He nodded in confirmation. “So he can’t back out now.”

“Well, he could try, but it would be unpleasant for him.” His voice held a hard edge that left her in little doubt that he was telling the truth. He seemed completely ruthless. She liked that.

“So I marry you, and as your wife I’ll own half of your assets, which makes me half-owner of my father’s business. I would have come to simply negotiate a sale, but there’s a clause in your contract that says if you sell to me you’ll forfeit the company.”

“Yes, I am aware of the clause you’re talking about. I got a little bit of a chuckle out of it, actually. But I had to wonder if it was added because of your gender or your competence.” His deep, mildly accented voice held a hint of mockery that made her bristle.

“My father is the consummate male chauvinist. Ideally I’d send him to a therapist to explore his issues, and maybe we could reach some sort of agreement that way,” she said dryly. “But that isn’t likely. So here I am. My father’s a good businessman, a worthy adversary. But I’m better. I found a loophole, a rather gaping one. The contract says I can’t buy the business, however, there isn’t anything in there about me inheriting the company—say, through a divorce.” She couldn’t disguise the self-satisfied note that had crept into her voice.

She studied his face, searching for a hint as to what he might be thinking, but there was nothing. The man was solid granite.

Marco laconically flipped through her stack of data. “It seems to me, Ms. Chapman, that you’ve presented a one-sided deal. You get your family company and I get what? An increase in profits based on hypothetical statistics? I don’t think so. That’s not how business is done.”

He took great satisfaction in seeing her unflappable cool slip for a moment. “I know how business is done,” she snapped. “I’m fully qualified. I went to Harvard.”

“Time in a classroom does not teach you the reality of the business world. You know numbers. You know textbook scenarios. You don’t know how things really work. As proved by your willingness to sign whatever piece of paper your father put in front of you.”

She thrust her chin up in a gesture of defiance. “I know how things work. Money makes the world turn. And this will mean money for you. You’ll make more in gross profit from this than you ever could have made with my father’s small potatoes business. Chapman Electronics barely makes fifteen percent of what one of the De Luca Corporation’s subsidiaries pulls in annually. Marrying me has the potential to boost profits by ten percent in each of the companies owned and operated by the De Luca empire.”

The tip of her tongue darted out and slicked over her bottom lip. Her lips were actually very full and tempting when they weren’t pinched together. He could easily imagine them parting beneath his own as she granted him entry into her mouth. Imagine her shedding some of her hardened shell and melting beneath him.

She did a wonderful job of downplaying her natural femininity. Such a good job that most people would miss it entirely. But natural beauty like hers was impossible to bury completely. She had large, generously lashed china-blue eyes, finely arched eyebrows, and clear pale skin. She wasn’t made-up and finished to a highly glossed sheen like the women he typically went out with, but there was a freshness to her look that intrigued him.

It had been a long time since a woman had intrigued him at all. In his experience women were all very much the same in the presence of a rich man. Flirtatious, transparent and, once the sparkle wore off, boring.

“And how long do you see such a marriage lasting?” It was the sheer mercenary quality of the proposition that had him asking questions. It was interesting to meet someone as committed, as driven as he was, to the pursuit of success.

“Certainly not ‘till death do us part’. I figure twelve months should be enough to make it look as though we gave it a legitimate try. Sadly…” she gave a little shrug of one of her padded shoulders “…as happens with more than fifty percent of marriages, ours just didn’t stand the test of time.”

This was where the real bottom line was revealed. He still didn’t believe she would want only Chapman Electronics. She was right in her assessment of it as small potatoes. And a woman who was willing to sell her body for a contract would not be interested in small potatoes.

“And after that twelve months is when you think you’ll get your hefty settlement? Are you going to cry abuse? Say that I was unfaithful?”

“Hardly! I told you I want the company. Nothing more or less than that.”

“But what will become of my newly increased profits when we divorce?”

“That’s the beauty of it,” she said, her smile had become a smirk. “When your wife leaves you and breaks your poor heart, your profits will increase even more. I’ve done my research.”

“So you’ve said.”

She gave him a pained look and continued. “Empathy is a very powerful emotion. Most of the men you’ll be doing business with have been divorced, generally because commitment to their business outweighed commitment to their wife. When your wife leaves you, you’ll have the whole lot of them standing around ready to dole out cigars and sympathy.”

Everything in him was on high alert. His blood was pumping faster, just as it did when he knew he was on to a profitable deal. He lived for this. Lived for the challenge—the danger, even. And it wasn’t in him to shy away from either.

He didn’t need more money. No question. But he wanted it. The boy who had slept in grimy alleyways and crowded homeless shelters craved the security. Needed to push farther and farther away from those low points, keep pushing past all that he had been. Needed constant success, where before there had only been failure and struggle.

“There would have to be a prenup. And don’t think for one moment I’ll be content to let you or your lawyer draw it up and start making demands. The way I see it, I could send you out the door and I will have lost nothing. You, on the other hand, will have lost everything. Where I only stand to gain, you could lose.”

She was slightly shocked that he seemed to be on the verge of accepting her offer. Obviously she had hoped that he would, but a very large part of her hadn’t believed she had a prayer. “I have no issue with you having a prenup drafted. I don’t want anything from you but what’s rightfully mine.”

He looked her up and down in a way that made her feel as if she was on the auction block.

“Would we be consummating this marriage?” It seemed important to know. Surprisingly, he found his body responding to the idea. The faint hint of a figure he’d caught lurking under her masculine attire was more than a little enticing. And there was something about her high-necked don’t-touch-me blouse that just begged to have the buttons released one by one…

He was amused when a tide of color crept up her neck and rushed into her cheeks. He hadn’t seen a woman blush since… Well, maybe never. The women he associated with were not the blushing kind. They were like him—jaded when it came to life and relationships. He liked a woman who knew how to please a man. A woman who understood that sex was not love. A woman who knew the score.

Normally he didn’t go for the whole bashful innocent façade, and he knew it was a façade, but somehow she was even more beautiful when she blushed. The layers of composed, hard-edged businesswoman seemed to fall away and reveal a woman who was capable of being soft and sexy.

“No!” She hadn’t meant to sound so flustered by his question, but she wasn’t a good enough actress to pretend she was unaffected by his blatant mention of sex. The topic wasn’t exactly something she was used to discussing in the broad light of day with a man. Or with anyone, at any time. “I mean you’re free to do whatever you want, with whoever you want. With discretion, of course. I sincerely doubt that any of those conservative old businessmen would have any sympathy for you if they knew you had been running around…philandering behind your wife’s back!”

He let his eyes wander over her body, and he suddenly saw the appeal of women concealing more than they revealed. It was making him unbearably curious.

He wondered what it would take to get her to loosen up a little, to get her to let her hair down. He could picture her with her blond hair loose around her face; her cheeks flushed pink with passion, her gorgeous mouth swollen from kisses. His kisses. She would be an aggressive lover, he decided. A woman so bound and determined to give as good as she got in the boardroom would very likely behave the same in the bedroom.

He felt himself getting hard thinking about it. He let his eyes wander over her figure, catching hints of the lushness that lay beneath her loose cut clothing. Oh, yes, beneath that armor she was all woman. Slender, yet soft and curvy.

“Whoever I want?” He lowered his voice and brushed his knuckles gently across her cheek.

Elaine had never had a man look at her like this. As if he was seeing straight through her, with all of his desire reflected in his eyes. Desire for her. She was momentarily immobilized by the flash of attraction that raced through her. She’d never felt anything like the fluttering, twisting sensation that was curling low in her belly.

“What if I told you that I wanted you?”

She realized that she was starting to lean towards him, her lips parting slightly, as if in invitation, her eyes drifting closed…

She backed away from his touch as if she’d been burned, mortified heat flooding her face again.

“No! No. No. I mean, this is a business deal, and I’ve no desire to…muddy the waters by introducing anything physical, and anyway it’s…it would be inappropriate.” Her face was burning, and she knew she was glowing like a beacon. She was starting to wish she hadn’t come. She was totally and completely out of her depth with him.

He laughed. She was absolutely priceless, clinging to her prim and proper persona. “Point taken.”

It would be better that way. Much better to keep business and pleasure firmly separated. Especially when there was a marriage license involved. He didn’t want to be tied to one woman for a year, and he had a feeling that if he did sleep with her, the “anyone at any time” offer would be revoked.

And anyway, if he changed his mind he could have her if he wanted her. He had seen it in her eyes, in the rapid beat of her pulse at the base of her elegant neck. She wasn’t immune to him. But in his experience very few women were. They loved his status, his wealth, and his skill in the bedroom. Sometimes they even loved him. But he didn’t love them. Ever.

“You would have to move into my penthouse,” he said.

“Absolutely not!” And there it was again, that flustered look that made her seem soft, maybe even feminine. That made her seem so desirable.

He took a step toward her. “I can’t exactly have my new wife living across town. I do have a reputation, after all. Any woman of mine is always kept as close as possible.”

The low, seductive timbre of his voice caused a shiver to race up her spine. When she’d imagined this little arrangement she hadn’t pictured them living together, somehow. The thought of being in such close quarters with a man as…disturbing as Marco made her feel…hot.

But she could do it. To get the business she would do anything. She wasn’t about to let her life’s ambition go. She would find the whole thing much more tenable if she brought him to her turf. Really, she’d find the whole thing much more tenable if he was living on another continent, but as that wasn’t an option… “If we have to live together, you can move in with me.”

“No,” he countered, “you will move in with me.” Poor Elaine. She really was so painfully naive. The first rule in a business dealing was to know your adversary. And she clearly didn’t know him. Marco De Luca did not negotiate. “And you’ll take my name.”

“What?” Her face was red again, but this time he was fairly certain it wasn’t from embarrassment. “I wouldn’t do that if I was entering into a real marriage with you! It’s anti-feminist! Making a woman lose her identity just because she’s getting married! It’s an archaic form of control!”

He shrugged. “So call me a caveman, then. I’m not exactly a modern, sensitive male. And the closest I get to ‘enlightened’ is ordering a latte. When it comes to relationships, just like in business, I’m in charge. No one would believe it if I moved in with you and you kept your maiden name. My distinguished conservative clients would lose a lot of respect for me if I let my little wife run rough-shod over me in her ugly clogs.”

She curled her toes inside her sensible footwear, hating him for making her feel self-conscious about her appearance. She had made the decision a long time ago, and with good reason, not to put emphasis on her looks—in fact, she did the opposite. And she refused to be made to feel silly for wanting to be taken seriously based on her qualifications instead of how sexy her legs looked in heels and a mini-skirt!

“Fine,” she said through clenched teeth.

“And—” his lip curled into sneer “—I expect you to understand that as my wife my satisfaction is your priority. I am expecting to take full advantage of all of the perks this arrangement can afford me.”

Her mouth dropped open. “I told you I’m not sleeping with you. Don’t you dare make me sound like a…a…prostitute!” She clamped her mouth shut again, her pulse pounding in her ears. The absolute rank arrogance of the man!

He barked out a laugh. “That isn’t what I said. I won’t have any trouble finding a woman to share my bed. What I need is a woman to hold on to my arm and gaze at me adoringly during business functions. When I have an engagement that requires your presence, it takes priority. Not your work. Not your social life.”

He could see the internal argument she was having with herself play out in her blue eyes. “Fine. I agree to your terms.”

He gave her a hard look. “There is no chance that I might be tempted to make this arrangement permanent. That isn’t how I operate. Even if you do wind up in my bed, it will only be until I’m finished with you. Don’t fall in love with me, because I certainly won’t be falling in love with you.” It was a slightly more blunt version of the standard disclaimer he presented at the beginning of every relationship. If there was one thing he hated it was a woman getting over-emotional and acting shocked when it was obviously time to end the relationship. And relationships always had to end.

“I’ll try,” Elaine said dryly. She was grateful for that little slap back to reality. He was a domineering womanizer, the sort of man she despised. And she’d do well to remember that.

Don’t fall in love with him? She nearly laughed out loud. She wasn’t even sure she liked him. And anyway, how could you fall in love if you’d written off the entire emotion?

“Plenty of women before you have fallen for me. Or my wallet, whichever the case may be.”

“Trust me when I tell you I’m not interested in your heart or your wallet. I’m fully capable of supporting myself financially, and as for my taste in men…well, it doesn’t run toward relics from bygone eras.”

A slow smile spread across his face. “We have a deal,” he said.

She stuck out her hand and he shook it in mild amusement. The woman was all business. Except when she blushed.

“Well, Mr. De Luca, it will be a pleasure working with you.” The professional smile she had entered with was pasted firmly back into place. “I’ll have my lawyer contact yours, and they can begin drafting the prenuptial agreement. Send me a copy of your calendar so that we can make a decision on the wedding date.”

“Of course,” he said. She turned to go, her pants tightening against her pert, rounded backside as she strode to the door. “Ms. Chapman?” She stopped and turned to face him again. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at eight. We’re going to go shopping for an engagement ring in the morning.”

She looked as if she wanted to say something. Her lips quivered, then hardened, but she remained silent.

“Oh, and be sure to wear something…feminine.”

CHAPTER TWO

ELAINE GLARED AT her bedside clock as the shrill alarm reminded her that it was time to get out of bed. She hadn’t slept at all. She’d just twisted around in a tangle of sheets, second-guessing everything that had taken place the previous day.

She was no romantic—far from it. She was a pragmatist right down to her ugly shoes. Marriage, at its heart, was only a business arrangement anyway. The signing of a contract to legally bind two people together, with certain penalties applying should the agreement be broken.

But suddenly it seemed so much bigger than just signing a contract. She was actually marrying the man.

She swung her legs over the side of her bed and padded over to her closet. Wear something feminine, he’d said. If only she didn’t need his help so badly she would have told him exactly where he could stick his opinions on her style of dress. But she wasn’t about to blow this deal by being stubborn over every small demand. She would save up for the big things. This, although a blow to her pride, she could do.

She rifled through the tightly packed closet. Nothing but severe-looking suits in dark colors. Practical, but not exactly pretty. Certainly not feminine.

Although his idea of feminine was probably a corset and fishnet stockings!

There was a pale yellow dress wadded up into a ball and stuffed in the far reaches of the closet. She picked it up and shook out the wrinkles. It had flowers. And it was a dress. That, she supposed, would qualify it as feminine.

She took a quick shower and shaved her legs hurriedly. She got out and propped her leg up on the vanity, dabbed at the razor cut on her knee, then made the fatal error of looking in the mirror. She grimaced at the face staring back at her. There were deep purple shadows under her eyes from lack of sleep. She looked like a raccoon.

It had been a long time since she’d tried to play up her looks. These days she took care to tone down her beauty by wearing suits that camouflaged her hourglass figure and by pulling her long golden hair into the tightest bun she could manage. She didn’t like the way she looked, but at least it had made the guys at work stop patting her on the behind and sending her off to make coffee.

She looked at her make-up bag, shoved against the back of the vanity. It was actually dusty. She did a mental calculation on when she’d gone to her last charity ball. Six months ago. That was how long it had been since she’d touched make-up. But it was desperately needed now.

Even without the raccoon eyes she would feel inadequate enough on the arm of a man who looked like Marco De Luca.

He was the perfect example of how it was different for men and women in the workplace. Where his looks were an asset to him, hers made men treat her like their own personal Barbie doll and made women treat her as if she was the enemy.

In the beginning she hadn’t disguised her body. She hadn’t felt she was at a disadvantage being female. But she had learned very quickly. It had only taken one incident to have her blacklisted from every decent real estate firm in the city; one tiny rumor that everyone had believed without so much as a photo to confirm it.

Even the man involved in the incident had denied it, but that hadn’t made a difference to any of the city’s gossipmongers. In the end the man had been allowed to keep his job, and at the age of twenty she had learned exactly where she stood in the male-dominated corporate world.

She applied the bare minimum of make-up needed to cover up the dark circles, and put on a little blush, mascara and lipgloss to play up her features as subtly as possible. She was reasonably satisfied with the results. She wouldn’t be winning any beauty pageants, but the make-up highlighted her features nicely, made them look softer.

She checked her bedside clock. She had five minutes. She raced to her dresser and sifted through her massive collection of underwear, pulling out a pale yellow lace bra and thong. Her affinity for girlie bras and panties was her one concession to femininity. And it was safe, because no one knew about it.

The doorbell rang, and the sound put an uncomfortable jittery sensation low in her belly. She clamped a hand to her stomach in an attempt the squelch the feeling. The last thing she needed was to start acting like a silly teenage girl with a crush. She hadn’t acted like a silly teenage girl when she’d been a teenager. No reason to start now that she was nearly at the halfway mark of her twenties.

“Coming!” she shouted, still trying to clasp her bra.

She gave herself one last glance as she raced by the bedroom mirror, and grimaced. Her hair was starting to curl, and in no time it would turn into frizz. Normally she didn’t dare let her hair dry naturally, but at the moment she didn’t have time to worry about it.

She slipped the dress over her head as she hurried out of her bedroom. It was shorter than she remembered, ending above her knees, and the scoop neck showed a lot more cleavage than she remembered too. The last time she’d worn it had probably been her sophomore year of high school. But it was too late to change now.

She swung open the door and her heart slammed against her ribcage. If he’d been handsome yesterday in his suit, he was devastating today in dark blue jeans and white button-up shirt. The color of the shirt enhanced his golden-brown skin, and he had the sleeves scrunched up to his elbows revealing his muscled forearms.

That tightening sensation was back, winding through her midsection and sending electric pulses through her bloodstream. Muscled forearms were something else she liked, apparently.

She was staring. Oh, no. She was staring and she couldn’t stop. Thankfully, he didn’t notice. Or maybe he pretended not to. Or he was just so used to women gawping at him that he took it as his due.

“You’re ready,” he said, in a tone she wasn’t certain was complimentary. He assessed her slowly, his brown eyes taking a leisurely tour of her body. She had to fight the urge to try and cover up. “Typical female behavior demands that you keep me waiting for at least half an hour.”

“I haven’t picked up my copy of The Rules lately, so I must be out of the loop,” she said waspishly.

He chose to ignore her biting retort and let his eyes roam over her body again. “Don’t you think it’s a little chilly out for a dress that skimpy?” The dress ended well above her knees, showing off killer legs she’d done a great job of camouflaging with her baggy pants.

“Skimpy?” She tugged at the hem, as if trying to add length to it. “It’s perfectly decent. Besides, it’s all I had that was appropriately feminine for you.” She said it sweetly, but he could feel her barely contained annoyance radiating off her in waves.

Fine. That made two of them. The last thing he wanted to do was take a woman shopping. Much less take a woman shopping for a ring. Commitment, and anything resembling it, had been something he’d always endeavored to avoid. He’d spent too much of his life looking out for the needs of others, being the stable influence. As soon as his younger brother had turned eighteen Marco had taken his life back, and he wasn’t about to forfeit it again by thrusting into the claws of some greedy female.

Usually if he was going to buy a woman jewelry, or some other gift, he had his PA sort it out. Anything else was much too personal and might convey intent that was most definitely not there.

But this was a necessary evil. It would call attention to them. Give the press a bone to gnaw on. Which was exactly what he wanted.

“It’s fine,” he said, trying not to give away just how fine he thought the dress was. “Just get a jacket.”

“Well, as long as it meets with your approval, Mr. De Luca.” She grabbed a light jacket and swept out the door.

Marco walked behind her, trying not to pay too close attention to the sway of her hips and the flare of that dangerously short dress. He felt his body tighten and he nearly groaned out loud. Who knew that Elaine Chapman had been hiding legs that could bring a man to his knees? And that image brought to mind a host of interesting possibilities.

He pulled his keys out of his pocket and pressed a remote unlock button, making the headlights of a low-slung black Ferrari flash.

“I expected it to be red,” she mused.

He chuckled. “I hate to be too obvious.”

She had to bite back a laugh. Marco was completely obvious in every way. His clothing screamed wealth, from his custom-made suit jackets to his handcrafted Italian leather shoes. And his body screamed sex, from his broad shoulders to his bold swagger.

He wore his confidence with the ease of a second skin, and it made her envious. She doubted he did anything based on the approval or disapproval of others. He simply succeeded. He lived to please himself. She wanted that.

He opened the passenger door and gestured for her to get in. She stopped in her tracks and gave him a look that could have melted ice.

He quirked a dark eyebrow at her. “You don’t allow men to open doors for you?”

“I can open my own doors.” She was being pigheaded, and she knew it. She let men open doors for her all the time if they offered.

She saw a glint of something dangerous in his eyes. Something exciting. “Yes, I’m sure that you can. But as of today you are my woman. And that means that I will treat you as I would treat a lover, bella mia.” He purred the endearment, and she felt it vibrate all the way down to her toes.

Her knees wobbled slightly and she gave in and sank into the car’s plush leather seats to avoid giving herself away.

An arrogant grin lit his handsome features. “Now, let’s go find you a ring. Something to show the world that you are mine.”

* * *

When they entered Tiffany & Co. a thousand childhood dreams that she’d never actually had converged on her, and a wave of emotion swamped her. The sophisticated surroundings and the man standing next to her made for an intoxicating romantic fantasy.

“We have an appointment,” he whispered, and placed his hand on the small of her back, guiding her past tall, elegant glass display cases filled with rows of sparkling, exquisitely designed jewels.

She could barely concentrate on the jewelry. All her concentration had gone to the spot where Marco’s hand rested, low on her back. Other than the handshake, and when he’d tortured her with that soft, sensual brush against her cheek, this was the first physical contact she’d had with him. Actually, other than handshakes and the hand on her cheek, this was the first physical contact she’d had in a long time. She hadn’t realized how starving she was for it.

A tall, spindly saleswoman moved from behind one of the counters and greeted Marco with a double kiss on the cheek. “Ah, Mr. De Luca. We have the private viewing room open for you. If there’s anything particular you have in mind, you need only to ask,” she said, in a French accent that Elaine assumed was fake.

Private room? “I don’t need anything extravagant,” Elaine protested.

“Nothing is too extravagant for you, cara mia.” Marco’s voice was so sticky sweet she was surprised it didn’t rot his teeth.

The woman reached out and lifted up Elaine’s hand. “Very nice fingers. Very slender,” she remarked. “She should fit the sample size perfectly.”

She was starting to feel as if both Marco and the twiggy saleslady saw her as nothing more than a living mannequin.

“This way.” The woman gestured to a curved flight of stairs and led them into a chic, simply adorned room with sleek, modern furniture and a rich color palette.

A platter with fresh fruit and champagne had been laid out for them, and soft, soothing music was being piped in. Life was certainly different when you had billions of dollars at your disposal.

The woman went over to the streamlined desk and unlocked a drawer. She pulled out a cream-colored velvet tray filled with sparkling gems. “These are from our Signature collection. For the woman who wants to stand out.”

The rings were all so large, so ornate. They were beautiful, but the idea of choosing one of these special rings for this…this fraud seemed wrong somehow.

“I don’t know…”

“This one.” Marco picked up an antique-style ring with a startlingly blue square-cut diamond in the center. “It would be perfect.”

She pasted a smile on her face. So the offer of carte blanche really meant she got whatever he wanted. A ring that size was the equivalent of an animal marking its territory. Really, he might as well just skip the ring and tattoo the word “mine” on her forehead.

“Yes, but you know me,” she said through gritted teeth. “I really do hate to be too obvious.” She repeated his earlier words back to him.

She scanned the tray, looking for something that wouldn’t make such a bold statement. Her breath literally caught when she saw the delicate emerald and platinum ring nestled in the bottom corner. Diamonds wove around the larger emeralds, giving it an old-fashioned, romantic feel.

The image that appeared in her mind of Marco slipping that ring onto her finger, his eyes full of some tender emotion she didn’t recognize, caught her completely off guard.

Of all the times to romanticize!

He moved closer to her—so close that she could feel the heat radiating off his body. “That’s the one you like?” His warm breath touched the back of her neck and made her stomach drop to her feet.

“I don’t know.” The thought of that perfect ring being a part of this sham almost made her feel sick.

“It seems very you. It’s unique,” he said, keeping his voice down to a husky whisper.

No wonder women fell at his feet. Everything about him was so dangerously seductive. She wanted so badly to buy into the fantasy. Just for a moment.

She closed her eyes. If she was honest with herself she knew she was never going to have a real wedding. Never going to experience this moment for real. Why not enjoy it?

“She would like this one, and a band to go with it,” he told the saleswoman, not waiting for Elaine’s response.

He was still standing too close, darn him! Her brain cells had gone on strike.

The woman went off to find a selection of wedding bands, leaving her alone with Marco. Her breath caught in her throat.

“Calm down,” he whispered in her ear. “You’re going to have to look like you enjoy my touch. Like it reminds you of pleasures we’ve recently shared.” He ran his hand up from her waist to the underside of her breast. A tremor shot through her body and it made her shiver. She hadn’t had this kind of contact ever.

He laughed low, his breath hot on her neck. “I don’t think you’ll have to pretend to like it.”

His arrogant statement was enough to pull her out of her sensual haze. She moved away from him, fighting hard to regain her sanity. She pretended to study one of the paintings on the wall, her body still tingling where his hand had made contact—and, more disturbingly, tingling in places he had not made contact.

The woman came back into the room with a simple platinum band, contoured to fit the asymmetrical design of the ring, in her hand. “This will be perfect.”

“We’ll have them wrapped, if you don’t mind,” Marco said, keeping his eyes trained on her. “I’m going to wait and present them to her later.” The smile he gave her was so warm and intimate. And so not meant for her. It was for show. She didn’t want to know what the cold, pressing sensation in her chest meant.

* * *

An hour later their purchases were wrapped up and they were back out in the morning sun, the warm rays banishing some of the chill that had been lingering in the air.

Marco’s cellphone rang. “De Luca.” He paused for a moment. “Yes. Go ahead and put me down for one hundred thousand.” He paused again, and Elaine could hear a man’s excited chatter on the other end. “Not at all. It’s a worthy cause. Thank you. You too.” He ended the call and put his phone back in his suit pocket.

“Was that for a charity?” she asked, feeling something soften inside her.

He nodded briskly. “A charity that provides financial support for the families of children with special needs. I make frequent donations to them.”

“That’s nice of you.”

He stopped walking. “I’m not a nice man, cara. The sooner you realize that, the easier your life will be for the next twelve months.”

“But you donated all that money…” She trailed off.

“And it benefits me. It will be a very high-profile donation. Philanthropy can be good for business.” He turned away from her and started walking again, his strides so long she had to take two to his every one.

All of the soft feelings vanished. She knew he was ruthless when it came to business. His reputation was legendary. The man who, ten years ago, had become the youngest billionaire in the world. The man who crushed competition without a hint of conscience. He was well known for destroying any obstacles in his way, regardless of the fallout to anyone else. The bottom line was king. Wasn’t the fact that he’d agreed to a marriage with her to boost his profits ample proof of that? Of course she supposed, as the marriage was her idea, she fell into the same category.

His reputation with the opposite sex was just as legendary as his business acumen. A couple of years ago he’d broken up with an Italian supermodel and she’d sold her story to one of the gossip rags. She’d spilled a lot of shocking details, and ever since then he’d become serious tabloid fodder. Elaine doubted that even half of what the woman said about him was true, but what she knew for sure was that he managed to be photographed with a different beautiful woman on his arm every weekend.

She had come in prepared for that. Prepared for the fact that he was sexy and that his charm was lethal enough to affect most any woman. But she had underestimated him. She had assumed that, with her practiced indifference to the masculine gender, she would be immune. The stark reality was that she was not.

It was the only downside to their little arrangement. She’d known he was handsome, she’d seen him at charity balls, around her father’s office and in grainy magazine pictures, but she hadn’t been prepared for how amazingly attractive he was up close. His face was square and undeniably masculine, yet his eyes, for lack of a better word, were beautiful. They were rich chocolate-brown with golden green flecks, framed by a fringe of long dark lashes. It was enough to make her mouth water. His body was another problem altogether.

She slowed her pace a little and allowed herself to take in the view. A frisson of something new and scary shivered through her. He had a broad, well-muscled chest that tapered down to a lean waist and narrow hips that led to—heaven help her, but she had noticed—the most heart-stoppingly sexy backside she’d ever seen. And she’d made those observations when he was fully dressed. If she lived with him, the odds of catching him without a shirt or—the image made her knees quake—in a towel were overwhelming.

He turned and quirked a black eyebrow at her, the glint in his eye letting her know that he was well aware that she’d been taking advantage of her position by checking out his assets.

She quickened her pace so that she was beside him again, the distracting view, as well as her erotic thoughts, placed out of sight. “Well, aren’t you the master of the public image? A fiancée and a large charitable donation all in one day!” she returned tartly, banishing the images that were parading through her mind’s eye.

“That’s half of doing business, Elaine. You should know all about that.”

Angry color rose in her cheeks. Leave it to this arrogant, infuriating man to remind her of her own personal black moment. “I do. I’m just not accustomed to seeing a public image that’s so well crafted and so far removed from the true individual.”

“Image is half, but business acumen and unflinching ruthlessness make up the rest.”

She felt as if his dark eyes were looking into her, as though he could see through her polished, smooth façade, to the insecure girl inside her. She didn’t like it.

“You have the ruthlessness, and a mercenary streak a mile wide. Selling yourself to me proves that.”

Heat spiked through her. “I did not sell myself to you. Don’t make me sound like a harem girl. I made a business deal with you. Yes, I used unconventional means, but there was no other way. Believe me, if there had been I would not be standing here with you.”

“You misunderstand, cara mia. I admire your ability to shut off all of your finer feminine emotions in favor of marrying for mutual gain.” He jerked open the passenger door of his car, which was parked closely to the curb. “So long as you remember that all you’ll be getting out of this is your father’s company.”

He dipped his head close to her, his dark eyes blazing. She smelled the clean, musky scent of his aftershave and it made her stomach feel as if it had inverted.

She swallowed. “As I’ve already assured you, I have no interest in a husband. Nor do I have any interest in your vast fortune. I want what belongs to me. As my father’s only child, I don’t think it’s outrageous for me to expect to inherit the company. I know I can do it, and if he would give me a chance he would know it too.”

“Is that what all this is about? Proving yourself to your father?”

She ground her teeth together. “No. I want to take control of my life and make something of myself. Surely you can understand that.”

She sank into the car and he slammed the door behind her. He got in and turned the key aggressively, the engine of the car purring like a big exotic cat. “I’m a self-made man. Whatever I have I’ve worked for.” He shifted into second gear as he eased into traffic and the engine growled as if emphasizing his point. “Including my reputation. A solid reputation is difficult to build, and one indiscretion can undo decades of work. That’s why image is so important. I’m sorry if you find it duplicitous.” His tone made it perfectly clear that he wasn’t sorry in the least.

“It’s why you need a wife,” she said, trying not to sound smug.

He laughed—a low, dark sound. “I don’t need you, cara, but I will certainly find use for you.” He flicked an unconcerned glance at his wristwatch—a watch that undoubtedly cost more than her annual salary. “I have an appointment this evening that I cannot break.” He turned to look at her, his dark eyes heating her, filling her with a longing that was nearly unbearable. “But you and I have a date tomorrow night.”

CHAPTER THREE

THE PHONE HAD BEEN ringing all day. How reporters had gotten hold of the extension to access his office line, he didn’t know. Once the phone stopped ringing he would have to interrogate his staff.

Granted, he wanted press. That was the point of the arrangement. But he certainly didn’t want the paps to have personal access to him. It was his PA’s job to field phone calls, and he paid her handsomely for it.

The trip to Tiffany’s had done its job, just as he’d planned. The picture of Elaine and himself entering Tiffany’s together, and exiting holding the telltale robin’s-egg-blue bags, had spawned a host of articles in every news source from the New York Times to TMZ—the latter speculating that it was a Mafia arrangement. His Italian heritage was all he could credit for the creation of that rumor. But then, when did a tabloid need anything silly like facts to come up with a story?

That, combined with strategically leaked information about his reservations at La Paz, a trendy restaurant in Manhattan, had the press engaged in a feeding frenzy to extract more information about Marco De Luca and his mystery woman.

He answered the phone midway through the first ring. “I’ll tell you the same thing I’ve told everyone else. Ms. Chapman and I will comment when there is something to comment about.” Denial, in his experience, was the best way to fuel a rumor. The more he downplayed it, the more interest would be piqued.

“That’s a shame. I thought you’d be a little more straightforward with your own brother.”

“Rafael.” He was pleasantly surprised to hear his younger brother’s voice. Despite living less than half an hour from each other, with Marco being a workaholic and Rafael being a family man, it was hard for their schedules to coincide. “I take it you picked up the paper this morning?”

“Actually, Sarah showed me. She loves all forms of gossip media. Though I doubt you’re getting married to this woman to save her father from a mob hit.”

Marco laughed. “Not even close. The Mafia has recently quit asking my opinion on whose knees they should break.”

“Why are you getting married, then?”

Marco picked up a pen and started doodling on his day planner. “Oh, the usual reasons.”

“Love?” Rafael asked, in what Marco thought was a hopeful tone. His brother had drunk the love Kool-aid a couple of years ago, and seemed to think that he should want to do the same.

“No. Financial gain.” He explained how the arrangement had come about.

“Well, that sounds typically you,” Rafael grumbled.

“That’s because it is typically me, little brother. We can’t all be happy running a dinky little real estate office. Some of us have ambition.”

“My ‘dinky little office’ is a multi-million-dollar operation. And anyway, I have a wife I like to go home to every night.”

Marco cut him off. “Well, that’s fine for you. But I’ve raised one kid already, and I’m not planning on willingly doing anything like it again. Commitment of any kind is not on the agenda. This is for business.”

Rafael cleared his throat. “I know that taking care of me wasn’t easy. But I’m grateful for it.”

“I don’t need your gratitude, Rafael. You’re my brother and I did it gladly. But this marriage, if you want to call it that, is strictly a business arrangement. The length of the marriage isn’t indefinite. The longest it will last is a year. If neither of us has achieved our goal by then, we’ll go our separate ways—no harm, no foul.”

“And the woman? She knows that you’re not madly in love with her?”

Marco huffed out a laugh. “I’m a ruthless bastard, Rafael, but not even I’m that bad.”

Rafael sighed. “You’re going to go ahead with this no matter what I say, aren’t you?”

“Always. But you will agree to be my best man? It’s the only chance you’ll have.”

“Of course I will. No one else would do it.”

Marco barked out a laugh. “That’s probably true. Now, let me get back to work, little brother. Some of us work for a living.”

Marco turned back to his computer and tried to get on with his work day. The phone rang again.

* * *

The phone in Elaine’s workspace rang for what seemed like the twentieth time since she’d come back from lunch.

She looked at it dubiously. It was either a reporter or, worse, her father again. He’d called her at work early this morning, beside himself with glee that Elaine had managed to snare herself such a rich husband, and even happier that Elaine was finally settling down. Probably because her marriage, especially such a suitable one, would go a long way in blotting out that “unfortunate incident” from a few years back.

Thankfully he didn’t seem suspicious about her marrying the man who’d just bought his company. He was too busy congratulating himself for raising a daughter who had finally wised up to the fact that a woman’s place was in the home, not behind an executive’s desk. And probably too confident in his skills as a businessman to even begin to think that his daughter could have seen a loophole that he hadn’t.

She had ended the conversation with her father feeling renewed determination. That was exactly the reminder she’d needed for why this was necessary.

She picked up the phone. “Hello?” she said curtly.

It was another reporter, rattling off questions at lightning speed that were both personal and degrading. She hung up on the man mid-sentence, and rested her forehead on the cool veneer surface of her desk.

Her head popped up when she heard a knock on her office door—or, to be more accurate, her cubicle wall.

Marco’s handsome face appeared around the corner, followed by the rest of him. Her mouth went dry at the sight of him. Her memories of how gorgeous he was didn’t do him justice. And it had barely been twenty-four hours since she’d last seen him.

“Have the press been hounding you?”

She blew out a breath. “Yes. My phone has been ringing all day.”

“The cost of doing business.”

“So it seems.” She sighed. “You know, I’m not putting myself through this just because I feel some sort of sense of entitlement—like I deserve it because I’m my father’s daughter.” It seemed important somehow that she tell him the details to make sure he understood what she’d accomplished and why she felt the way she did. She shouldn’t care what he thought, but even as she reminded herself of that, she did care. “Four years ago Chapman’s nearly declared bankruptcy. I identified a flaw in the system and helped my father rework the way products were shipped. It shaved four points off the cost and brought the company back into the black. I proved myself. I saved the company. My family’s company. And still he’d rather let your corporation absorb what he built up from nothing than give it to me. All because I’m a woman. Do you see why I feel the way I do?”

“If everything goes according to plan, you should be getting exactly what you’re entitled to.” Truth be told, Marco wasn’t the most modern guy. He was of the opinion that in general women should stay home and take care of their kids. But he could understand why she wanted to claim what was rightfully hers. It was a feeling he understood very well.

“Well, Miss Chapman.” He took her hand and pulled her from her sitting position. “I believe you and I have a date.”

* * *

“I’ll just pop in and change. You can wait in the living room.” Almost as soon as Elaine closed the front door to her apartment someone knocked on it. She opened it to a woman with spiky pink hair and a man whose eyebrows were more immaculately groomed than her own. “Can I help you?”

“I’m not sure how to say this tactfully, so I won’t bother. You need some help if you’re going to look believable as my fiancée,” Marco said from behind her.

Elaine stared blankly at him, the realization of what his statement meant slowly dawning. “You’re giving me a makeover?”

“I’m not; they are.” He gestured to the two people still standing at the threshold.

Her ears were burning. A makeover! “I’m not your dress-up doll, De Luca. You can’t just mandate things like this!”

He sighed in exasperation. Why was he exasperated? She was pretty sure she ought to have the market on exasperation cornered at that moment.

“Why bother to fight me on this? You need it—trust me—and I’m going to get my way, so you might as well sit your cute little butt down.”

She gave an indignant squeak and stood facing him with her mouth open.

“What? No snappy comeback?” he mocked. “I think I should notify the press.”

She could not remember ever being so angry before. He was taking control from her bit by bit, and there was nothing that threw her off more than losing control.

She gave him a look that would have cowed most men. Leave it to her to get engaged to the one man who didn’t seem to find her the least bit intimidating. “The measure of a woman is not her looks.”

“Very nice sentiment. It’s also patently untrue.”

“It is not!” Great. Now he had reduced her to petty playground tactics.

“It most certainly is. And the same is true for a man. If you dress the part you’ll be more likely to get the part. If I showed up at a board meeting in swimming trunks I wouldn’t be taken seriously, and your feeble, stereotyped sense of style is hardly going to earn you any respect.”

Neither had dressing feminine, but she certainly wasn’t going to get into that with him. “Be that as it may,” she said crisply, “I’m not here to play trophy wife.”

He continued to smile for the benefit of the stylists, who were busy pretending to ignore the fight. She wasn’t fooled by the grin frozen on his face. It had hardened, and his jaw shifted, the muscles in his shoulders bunched tight. “You’re here to be whatever I ask you to be. And if I ask you to be my trophy then that’s what you’ll be. We do both want this marriage, don’t we…cara mia?” The threat was implicit.

Icy fingers wrapped around her heart. She couldn’t lose this deal. She had worked too hard. And she certainly wasn’t going to lose it over something as trivial as a hair-trim and a little lipgloss.

She sat in the chair that was moved for her, keeping her face carefully neutral.

The petite hairdresser talked animatedly while she worked, waving her scissors every now and then to emphasize her point. She put a row of foils on the top of Elaine’s hair, turning it a lighter, less brassy shade, and cut six inches off the length, bringing it up so that it just skimmed her collarbone, and added long layers to give it body and movement.

The man, Giorgio, was there for make-up and, Elaine wasn’t terribly surprised to hear, eyebrow waxing. Her face was scrubbed and peeled and waxed and finally painted.

Giorgio stepped back and examined her like an artist looking at his masterpiece.

“I’m brilliant,” he said as he handed her a mirror.

She barely recognized the woman looking back at her. She had fun, modern hair that looked full and healthy. Her face glowed, probably from the gold powder that Giorgio had brushed all over it, and her eyes looked larger and brighter with the expertly applied eyeshadow and her newly shaped brows. She hated so much to admit that it was an improvement. But it was.

Marco took her by the hand and pulled her up out of the chair, and dropped a light kiss on the tips of her fingers. Her legs wobbled.

“You look beautiful.”

A new knock on her door broke the moment, and Elaine wrenched her hand from his. “I assume you know who that is too?”

He nodded, and walked to the door and opened it, taking a garment bag and tipping whoever it was that had made the delivery. “Your dress for dinner.”

He placed the hanger in her hand, and she stared at it. He was changing everything about her, from her hair to her wardrobe, in order to make her look like his type. Either that or he was just trying to drive her insane.

She opened her mouth to offer up a sour comment, but the frosty look in his deep chocolate eyes stopped her cold. This was her end of the bargain—the part she had to keep in order to get what she wanted. She swallowed the comeback and went to her room, making her footsteps heavier than necessary, and unzipped the garment bag, revealing a filmy golden-brown dress with beaded spaghetti straps.

It fit her perfectly. Too perfectly. The gown clung to her curves like a second skin, showcasing her small waist and full bust, and revealing a little too much cleavage for her comfort.

Marco hadn’t even asked her size. He’d guessed. If there was a more potent reminder of just how much of a womanizer he was, she couldn’t think of it. And what was even worse was that she had a sneaking suspicion that the boiling feeling she got in her tummy when she thought about him with other women just might be jealousy. Which was a completely futile road to walk down. Men like Marco De Luca could have, and did have, any woman they wanted. And women like her were not exactly the women that men like him wanted.

She exited her bedroom, fighting the desperate urge to cover up her exposed figure. There had been a time when she might have liked the dress, might have felt beautiful. Not anymore. Now she just felt exposed. And the heated look Marco was giving her did not help. He evaluated her slowly, his chocolate eyes slowly caressing her curves. Heat flared in the depths of his eyes and it made her insides tighten. It felt as though someone had reached inside her and stolen the air from her lungs.

“Almost perfect,” he said, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a slender velvet case. “I went back to Tiffany’s today.” He opened the case and revealed the most beautiful necklace she’d ever seen.

The chain was made up of gossamer strands of white gold gathered together by delicate round-cut diamonds. The center pendant was a showcase of delicate craftsmanship, with intricate winding vines of platinum, and a large, perfectly cut emerald at the center.

He moved behind her and swept her hair to the side, his warm fingertips brushing her nape, sending a shimmer of sparks through her. “You’re a beautiful woman, Elaine. Truly beautiful.” She sucked in a breath when the cold jewelry touched her skin, the pendant settling between her breasts. “Your power is in your beauty. You should use it. Not hide it.”

Heat curled through her. Pleasure, she realized. She liked having him say she was beautiful. She liked feeling beautiful. And she wasn’t sure how she felt about discovering that weakness.

He put his hands on her bare shoulders and turned her to face him. “Now you look like my fiancée.”

* * *

It was one of Manhattan’s trendiest nightspots. A Latin-fusion restaurant decorated with old-world South American art, mingled with the clean, sleek lines of modern design. The hostess led them to his personal table, which was situated by the wall of slanted windows, overlooking the brightly lit city streets. But tonight he didn’t fully appreciate his surroundings.

His thoughts were completely occupied with the woman walking next to him. He had thought the makeover would be helpful, but he’d had no idea that she would be transformed into a supermodel. No, not a supermodel. There was nothing angular or androgynous about her. She was all soft, curvy woman. Her looks weren’t cookie cutter, or trendy. She was classic. Her perfect bone structure gave her the kind of beauty that not even age would diminish.

He’d thought she had a beautiful face when it wasn’t enhanced with make-up, but with the subtle colors playing up her eyes and making them sparkle, making her lips look fuller and more inviting, she was stunning. One of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen.

Her hair, which he’d only ever seen in that schoolmarm bun or hanging wet down her back, was styled into soft blond waves that fell down past her shoulders and ended right above the swell of her lush breasts. And that necklace fitted right in the dip of her cleavage, touching her where he wanted to touch her.

This was the woman he had heard about. The one who could drive a man to do something stupid and reckless and condemn the consequences to hell.

And she didn’t want to consummate their marriage.

He ran his hand down the length of her arm and moved it to the small of her back; he saw her pulse jump at the base of her neck. He fought the smug smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. So she wasn’t as unaffected by him as she wanted him to believe.

He pulled her chair out for her, and for once she simply accepted his offer.

She sat ramrod-straight, a strained look written across her delicate features. He reached across the table and took her hand, rubbing his thumb across the pulse of her wrist. “Do you ever relax?”

“No. Do you?” Her heart fluttered rapidly in her chest and a knot of excitement coiled in her stomach.

He leaned his head in so that his nose was nearly touching hers, and her fluttering heart stopped for a moment. “Only when I’m with a beautiful woman.”

The intimacy of the moment was shattered by a flashbulb that momentarily blinded her. She looked and saw a photographer sitting at the bar, trying to look nonchalant as he sat and drank his beer. “Is it always like this for you?”

He gave the photographer a sideways glance. “Not always, but being spotted together two days in a row is bound to have the paparazzi descending in droves. The prospect of me settling down has them chomping at the bit to get the scoop.”

“I guess it’s a good thing.” Another flashbulb went off. Elaine’s head whipped in the direction of the light. “We do want the word to get out.”

She tried to feign indifference at the constant flashes punctuating their conversation, but it was almost impossible when she felt as if she was an actor in a play. Being on show was getting tedious, and it had only just begun.

By the time dessert arrived they had engaged only in small talk, and made no mention at all about the impending nuptials. It was starting to make her nervous. She knew he hadn’t brought her here to discuss how well the Knicks were playing this season. Marco De Luca didn’t do anything without a purpose. She didn’t like feeling like this: unprepared, out of the loop. She had intended on retaining control of the deal, but he was wresting it away from her inch by inch.

Before she could take a bite of her tamarind white chocolate mousse, Marco stood and grasped her hand, then pulled her up so she was standing beside him. She had been afraid he was going to do something like this.

“Can I have everyone’s attention?”

Elaine’s heart rate kicked into overdrive. Oh, he was not doing what she thought he was doing.

“I have something I would like to ask this beautiful lady.”

Yes, he was.

The press started snapping pictures like mad. It was the reminder she needed to try and look happy. She didn’t need to try and look surprised.

“Elaine Chapman.” He turned and looked her in the eyes, covering both of her hands with his. “Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

He pulled out a small velvet box, and even though she knew exactly what was in it everything in her tightened up. She couldn’t breathe properly. He opened the box and held the ring out to her. She stood frozen, unable to get a word out around the lump of emotion that was blocking her throat. She could only nod. He gave her a smile that stopped her heart; he looked like a man who had just proposed to the love of his life.

He slipped the brilliant ring onto her finger, and in that moment she could almost believe that he wanted her—almost believe that all of this was real. She felt tears sting the backs of her eyes, because she knew this moment would never be real. Not for her.

The people in the restaurant started to clap. Her knees started to buckle. Marco put his arms around her and pulled her up against him, bringing her flush against his hard body, and then he lowered his head and covered her mouth with his.

She stood completely still for a moment, so shocked she couldn’t respond. Then he changed the angle of his head and teased her lips open with his tongue. She whimpered and wrapped her arms around his neck. His lips were soft and firm and she didn’t care that the moment was being caught on film by a hundred cameras. She didn’t care that they were in the middle of the restaurant. The only thing that mattered was this.

It had been so long since she’d been kissed. Years. But she couldn’t think clearly enough to figure out how many. And she’d never been kissed like this.

He ran his fingertips down the length of her spine and she tangled her fingers in his thick black hair. She felt as if she was going to melt into a puddle at his feet. His tongue swept across her bottom lip and she abandoned all her reason to revel in the moment.

She thrust her tongue into his mouth and felt his body jolt. He anchored his hands on her hips. Her breasts felt heavy and an unfamiliar ache started to throb between her thighs.

Then he released her, and she wanted to grab his head and pull him back to her regardless of the fact that they had an audience.

He smiled at her and leaned in to whisper in her ear, “I think that looked pretty convincing, don’t you?”

The high she’d felt when his lips had touched hers crashed. It was all for show.

And as the flashes continued to go off, and people continued to clap, she stood with a smile fixed on her face and all she wanted to do was go home, crawl into her bed, and cry.

CHAPTER FOUR

“I CAME OVER so we could discuss the terms and conditions.” Marco swept past Elaine and entered her tiny apartment without waiting for an invite.

“I told you I would have my lawyer contact you.” She didn’t want Marco and his disturbing presence in her apartment. It was her sanctuary, her refuge from the frenetic pace of her life. Bringing him into it seemed wrong somehow. She hadn’t seen him since their faux engagement had gone into effect. Hadn’t seen him since that kiss.

“I assume you’ve had contracts drawn up?” he asked.

She glanced at her briefcase. “Yes.” She’d had them drafted as soon as she’d found the loophole in her father’s contracts.

He smiled sardonically. “It’s necessary that we discuss precisely what each of us expects from this union before anyone signs anything.”

“All right,” she said slowly. She studied the layout of her shoebox apartment. Papers covered most surfaces. It was a very orderly mess; everything was stacked neatly and organized. The kitchen and living area served as her office, and since visitors were rare she usually left everything out rather than sticking it back into neat little folders. “We can work at the coffee table.” She gestured to the low table in the middle of the living room.

She bent and picked up a stack of documents and moved them to the large metal filing cabinet in the corner. When she turned, Marco was leafing through one of the binders she’d left on the table.

He looked up at her, his dark eyes keen. “Your business plan?” She nodded and watched, feeling tense for some reason, as he skimmed the pages. “You have some very good ideas,” he said finally, setting the black book back in its spot.

A flush of pleasure crept through her traitorous body. “Yes. I think I can double the profits inside of two years just by implementing basic technologies. There haven’t been a lot of advances at Chapman’s in the past few years. My father isn’t the most modern of men.”

Marco gave her a wry smile. “So I gathered.”

She rushed on as if he hadn’t said anything, the fire and excitement burning in her now. “I want to set up a website with online ordering. I also think the way the warehouses and call centers are run could be streamlined for greater efficiency and lower operating costs.”

Her heart was beating a little faster, as it always did when she talked about the company. The man sitting on her couch had nothing to do with it.

“Very good.” To his credit he didn’t sound surprised, but still it made her feel defensive.

“Thank you. I’m actually pretty smart, you know.” She couldn’t resist adding, “I graduated from high school two years early, and I was at the top of my class at Harvard.”

“And look at all you have to show for it.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Is that an insult?”

“Only if you’re unhappy with what you have to show for it.” And, judging by his critical expression, he thought she should be.

“Hey! He tells jokes,” she said balefully.

“I’d do a song and dance but…I know where my talents are best served.”

“And, as you know, sticking to what you’re good at is the key to success.”

He nodded, his hard features serious. “That and perseverance.”

She would be shocked if Marco De Luca had ever had to practice much perseverance. He seemed like the kind of man who’d had everything handed to him in life—mostly because she couldn’t imagine that very many people were brave enough to deny him anything. And even if they were brave enough, he was a very charismatic man. He drew people to him. She was sure he was very good at getting what he wanted, using honey or vinegar.

“So, what is it that you hope to get from our arrangement?” Marco asked.

“I want exactly what I said upfront. I want my father’s company. Nothing more or less.”

“You’re an ambitious woman, Elaine. I find it hard to believe that you would be content with just your father’s company when you could try and obtain so much more.”

“Why? You think because I’m a woman that my highest end goal is to just marry some rich guy and spend my days lunching and shopping? I respect myself far too much to have my happiness be determined by a husband or anyone else.”

Her own mother had been pathetic that way. Chasing after men in an attempt to gain the attention of an indifferent husband, searching for some sort of acceptance and validation at the hands of others. Elaine was making her own way, her own success. She certainly wasn’t going to become the kind of simpering female her mother had been.

She’d worked so hard to distance herself from that sort of behavior. Ironic that one small rumor about her and her direct supervisor at Stanley Winthrop had undone every ounce of her work. Marco had been right about reputations: they were difficult to build up but so very easy to tear down.

A snide comment made from a co-worker she’d dated briefly, who’d taken offense at the fact that she hadn’t jumped at the chance to sleep with him, had spread amongst other jealous interns until it had somehow blossomed into its own entity. She’d been sick when it had finally reached her. The story was that she’d been having illicit sex with her very nice, very married boss. And the man who had relayed it to her had gleefully given her all the graphic details that he’d heard.

It had been indescribably painful, knowing that someone she’d cared about, someone she’d kissed, had said such awful things about her, had set out to ruin her because she wouldn’t hop into bed with him. She’d avoided men since then. No dates. And she honestly hadn’t had many before that. Which was why, at the ripe old age of twenty-four, she was still a virgin. Which was fine with her. Hormonal awakenings had kind of passed her over. Until recently.

Marco settled on the couch, his dark eyes trained on her. “Just as well that you feel that way, as I have no intention of being tied down by a wife. Not permanently, at least.”

“At least we agree on that point.” She had a feeling it might be their last agreement of the evening.

“And we need to agree on another one. You cannot get pregnant. If you do, you forfeit the company, and you can forget any sort of financial allowance from me. I don’t want a wife, and I definitely don’t want diaper duty.”

She blinked, shocked by the words that had just come out of his mouth. “I thought we’d already established that I wasn’t going anywhere near your bedroom during the course of this…this marriage. And, seeing as you and I both know it isn’t the stork that brings babies, I think fatherhood is the last thing you have to worry about.” She wrinkled her nose. “Well, the last thing you have to worry about with me. I can’t comment on behalf of your other lady-friends.”

“I always practice safe sex.”

It was the absolute truth. Marco had no intention of becoming some woman’s meal ticket for eighteen years, and he was totally scrupulous in his sexual practices for both the sake of his health and his checkbook. But that didn’t mean that some of his mistresses hadn’t tried to find a way around the precautions. He’d caught one woman with an open box of condoms and a needle, and he’d watched as she’d put a tiny puncture in each plastic packet before putting them neatly back into the box.

Then there had been the woman who’d tried to pass another man’s baby off as his. Never mind that she’d been eight weeks along and he’d only known her for two.

He was well familiar with the female mind and how it worked. Financial security and wealth was the highest goal for the vast majority of the fairer sex. His own mother had prized it above everything, even her two children.

“Well, you won’t be practicing any sort of sex with me,” she said, twin spots of color high on her cheekbones.

Her prim exterior amused him—especially knowing what he did about her. She made for a very intriguing challenge.

“What exactly are your other terms and conditions?” she said tartly, as if reading the tenor of his thoughts.

“Simple. I’m only agreeing to this for the benefit of my company. I need to be sure that I’ll be gaining much more than I would lose by forfeiting Chapman Electronics. That means I need you on call twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.”

Elaine didn’t like the sound of that, although the odd fluttering in her stomach seemed to indicate otherwise. “What am I on call for?”

“Business functions, personal dinners. Whatever I might need my wife for.”

“What about my job…my life?”

“I thought the company was the most important thing in your life.”

Desire burned in her chest. Desire to prove herself to her father, to everyone. “It is.”

“Then that means for the next twelve months I’m your number one priority. I’m in negotiations right now with James Preston. He’s selling one of his resort properties in Hawaii, but he doesn’t want to turn it over to someone who might turn his nice family vacation spot into some debauched spring break hangout.”

“Which is why you need a wife,” she said, feeling triumphant.

The corners of his sexy mouth twitched with humor. “It’s why a wife will be useful to me, yes.”

“So I’m supposed to be evidence of your transformation from playboy to doting husband?”

“Something like that.”

Oddly, she felt a little indignant for Marco. His personal life had nothing to do with what a good businessman he was. Apparently not even men were exempt from the archaic viewpoints of others. Not that she condoned the way Marco treated women, but it was still separate from how he ran his business.

“So it seems like we need each other,” she said.

“It isn’t a necessity for me. I want the resort just as I want to experience a profit increase, but you’re the only one who really needs this arrangement. Don’t forget that.”

“You mean I should remember that when you pull me out of work in the middle of the day and drag me off to some art gala at which you expect me to play trophy wife?”

A slow grin spread across his face. Her heart beat a little bit faster. “Something like that.”

* * *

“What is this?” Elaine slapped the thick stack of documents onto Marco’s pristine walnut desk.

He didn’t look up from his computer screen. “The prenuptial agreement that my lawyer drafted. Or was that not made clear by the heading?”

“Oh, that was made perfectly clear. It’s this.” She picked the papers back up and rifled through them before setting them down again. “This is what I’m talking about!”

He flicked the offending lines a glance. “The infidelity clause?”

“Is that its official title?” She’d never been so angry in her entire life—and that included the day she’d confronted Daniel the Rat about the salacious rumors he’d spread about her. “If I have an affair I lose the company, yet there are absolutely no limitations imposed on you! It’s a blatant, unrepentant double standard!”

His dark eyes collided with hers; the heat of his gaze warmed her whole body. Rage was coursing through her veins, nearly blinding her with a red mist, and still he was making her body tingle with anticipation for something she didn’t even have a name for.

“If that’s how you see it.” He shrugged in a classically Latin manner. “I see it as protecting my…” he looked her over her in a way that made her squirm “…assets.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, trying to disguise her stinging nipples. “I’m not your asset! We are supposed to be a team!”

He stood and rounded the desk, the sheer height and breadth of him as awe inspiring as it was intimidating. “No, Ms. Chapman, we are not a team. Do I need to remind you, yet again, that I’m the dominant party here? That means that you will do as I say.” He picked the prenuptial agreement up from his desk. “You will remain out of other men’s beds for the duration of our marriage. If you need sex, you get it from me. If there’s even a hint or rumor of impropriety on your part the company stays with the De Luca Corporation.”

She tried to fight the hot tide of embarrassment that washed through her. What was it about this man that rattled her so? “And what about you? You’re still free to do whatever you want?”

He nodded, his jaw fixed. “With whoever I want, as I recall.”

“That is the most disgusting double standard I have ever heard! You didn’t mention this a few days ago when we were discussing ‘terms and conditions’.”

“I’m simply covering every possible eventuality. I can’t afford to have my wife seen with other men. In a real marriage it would never happen. No woman runs around on me. And I don’t share.”

“Then neither do I. Enjoy the next twelve months of celibacy.”

“And you think you can resist me?”

She laughed. “No question.”

He hauled her to him, pressing her breasts against the muscled wall of his chest. “I don’t believe that.” His lips crashed down on hers, his tongue pushing past her lips and tangling with hers.

She couldn’t resist. She didn’t want to. She just wanted this moment, this heady, sensual moment, so far removed from her normal life.

He lowered his hands to her bottom and pulled her tightly against his body, pressing his erection against her belly. She gasped and moved against him, enjoying the electrifying sensations pulsing through her, exulting in the fact that he was as turned on as she was. That she had been the one to turn him on.

Her breasts ached for his touch, their shameless peaks announcing to him just how aroused she was. A pulse throbbed hard between her thighs. She wanted him. She wanted him to show her everything she’d never even cared to learn about. Everything she’d always steadfastly ignored about herself and about men.

She moved her hands over the muscles on his back, then around to his chest. He was so firm. So hot. So perfect. Just what a man should feel like. She wanted to feel his body without layers of clothing between them. She wanted… .

She pulled away from him and jumped back as if she’d been burned. “I’m sorry,” she said.

Her lips felt tight and swollen, her breathing was ragged, and she knew some of her hair had escaped the confines of her bun.

“There isn’t anything to be sorry about. We’re going to be married in two weeks’ time. We might as well sleep together. It would add to the convenience.”

It was the last part that kept her from saying yes. Without that scathing reminder that it would mean nothing to him she might have agreed. But there was no way she could view sex as casually as he did. She didn’t have the experience or the sophistication to treat it as a recreational activity. Combined with the fact that she simply didn’t have the time to devote to discovering her sexuality.

“I can’t do that. I don’t…I don’t see sex as a convenience.” She took a breath, trying to conjure up that steely businesswoman she knew lived inside her somewhere. “What I mean is, I don’t sleep around.”

Marco stared at her flushed face, her red lips, her eyes still dark from passion. She wanted him, even if she couldn’t admit it yet. Or perhaps she was holding out until she felt it was most advantageous for her to give in. “That’s fine. But the clause stays in. If you want sex, you get it from your husband.”

She swallowed hard, trying to keep her face neutral. “I don’t think I’ll be wanting any in the near future.”

He shrugged. “It’s up to you. I don’t have to coerce women into my bed.”

That was the absolute truth. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had turned him down—if there had ever been a time. He didn’t like it now. He liked it even less that his body seemed to have some sort of fixation on a woman who wasn’t fixated on him. It must be the novelty of it. It was unusual for him to have to pursue a woman. They came to him—frequently and easily. If he didn’t end up in bed with Elaine it would be easy enough to find someone else, seeing as there was nothing forbidding him from doing exactly that.

But the idea of Elaine being with another man while she was wearing his ring had made him see red. He had told the truth when he’d said he didn’t share. And in his mind marriage, even one of convenience, made her his. Old-fashioned and unenlightened, yes, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it.

“You have an appointment with a bridal gown designer tomorrow at nine.”

“I have work,” she said sharply.

“I don’t care. The wedding takes priority right now.”

She put her hands on her hips. “Is this how it’s going to be, then? For the next twelve months you’re going to treat me like your personal doll?”

Marco shrugged. He seemed entirely unaffected by the kiss, and with her heartbeat still going erratically it irritated her.

“If that’s the way you want to look at it. Or you could simply view this as your newest job opportunity.”

“You know, you have a real talent for making me sound like a call girl.”

“And you have a real talent for wasting my time. If you want to see me, next time make an appointment.”

She drew up to her full height, but was careful not to get too close to him again. Desire and anger were still struggling for pride of place inside her. “I am your fiancée.”

“No. This is a business deal, as you’re so fond of pointing out, which makes you one of my business partners. Which means you make an appointment like they all do.”

She leaned all her weight onto one leg, pushed out her hip and settled her hand on it, in her best indignant pose. “And do you kiss all of your business partners the same way you did me?”

“If any of them looked like you, I might. As it is, I’ve never been tempted to try.”

It was difficult to decide whether to embrace anger at his sheer male arrogance, or enjoy the sneaky glow of feminine pleasure she got from his underhanded compliment. In the end, it was the anger that won out. “I see. So you decided that because I’m a woman you can just kiss me whenever you like?”

He moved toward her, his dark eyes blazing with fury and something more compelling. “No. I kissed you because I wanted to. And you wanted me to.”

“Your ego is impressive.” She took a step back. “I didn’t want you to kiss me. As you mentioned, this is a business deal, and I never mix business with my personal life.” At least she was certain she wouldn’t if she had a personal life.

The mockery in his smile told her he didn’t believe her for a moment. “I know that this is all an affront to your feminist sensibilities, but for the purposes of this deal I’m your boss. You will do as I say. You will sign the prenup, and you will meet with the wedding coordinator tomorrow morning to choose your wedding dress.”

Everything in her raged out of control. Her hormones were still on red alert from the kiss, and her temper had just about reached its breaking point. She sucked in a calming breath. This was where years of training kicked in. Where she played the game. This was business. You fought the battles you could win, not the ones you were destined to lose.

“And will you be attending this bridal gown extravaganza?”

“Absolutely not. It’s bad luck for the groom to see the gown before the wedding.”

“I would imagine that it’s bad luck for the marriage to have a predetermined end date,” she returned crisply.

He acknowledged her comment with a slight smile, then turned, walked back to his desk and settled behind it. Apparently she was dismissed.

She turned to go.

“Elaine?”

She stopped at the sound of that sweet, honey-coated voice saying her name, sending waves of sensation through her body. Well, wasn’t she one to dramatize?

“I hope you don’t have plans tonight.”

She turned and arched her eyebrow. “Would it matter if I did?”

“Certainly. I would feel bad for asking you to break them.”

“You most certainly would not.”

The left corner of his mouth lifted into a half-smile. “You’re right. I wouldn’t at all. I have a dinner party that I’m expected to attend tonight and I need a date.”

“Did you misplace your little black book?”

He gave her a pained look. “I don’t have a black book.” He picked up his gleaming cellphone and waved it. “That would be old-fashioned.”

She felt her lips thinning into an unattractive line. “You’re straight out of the Dark Ages. A BlackBerry isn’t going to fix that.”

“Nice to know you hold me in such high regard, cara. Did you drive here?”

She eyed him warily. “No. I took a cab.”

“Perfect. You can ride with me.”

“And if I have plans?”

“Cancel them. As per our agreement,” he said.

“As per your demands.”

“If you like.” He seemed completely unconcerned by her anger, which only fanned the flame. “But I can hardly show up at this dinner without my new, highly publicized fiancée.”

“Just tell them your fiancée has a life, and doesn’t just hang on your arm professionally twenty-four hours a day.”

“Oh, they know you don’t do that. I’m sure they think you spend at least twelve hours wrapped around me in bed.”

She flushed, her vocal cords failing her. The images that were pinging through her brain were graphic, and much more intriguing than she’d like to admit.

She had done so well, burying any interest in the opposite sex beneath piles of ambition. Then she’d walked into Marco De Luca’s office and her long-ignored hormones had sprung to life and hadn’t left her alone since.

“In any case, I need you to play your part. This is business, remember?” He said the last part with a mocking edge to his voice.

“I won’t forget.”

* * *

The dinner party was hardly the intimate affair she’d imagined. There were at least two hundred of Manhattan’s most elite social movers in attendance, and it made it hard for her not to be grateful for the dress Marco’s efficient PA had provided for her at the last minute.

It was too short and too tight for her taste, but judging by the similarly bedecked Barbie dolls that were hanging on their date’s arms the look was par for the course.

Marco gave the stunning, reed-slim hostess a kiss on both cheeks before putting his hand on Elaine’s back and introducing her. “This is my fiancée, Elaine Chapman. Elaine, this is Caroline Vance. She’s the chairperson of the De Luca House charity.”

“Nice to meet you.” She shook the other woman’s perfectly manicured hand, and held back the questions that were forming in her mind. Marco had never mentioned that he had a charity, but his fiancée would certainly know all about it. Well, a real fiancée would at any rate. She was clueless.

“Nice to meet you too.” Caroline smiled warmly. “I didn’t think I’d live to see the day when Marco would settle down. He’s always preferred life in the fast lane.” She shot Marco a teasing look. “I guess you’re merging into the carpool lane, huh?”

The smile on Marco’s face looked forced to Elaine, but Caroline didn’t seem to notice. “Yes. It was time. When I met Elaine I knew I couldn’t let her get away.”

“Welcome to the club. You’ll enjoy it.” She gave Marco’s arm a squeeze.

Marco paused and pulled his checkbook from his pocket, and filled in an amount that made Elaine’s eyes widen.

Caroline took the check from Marco’s hand, a broad smile on her pretty face. “He’s generous to a fault,” she said, her comment directed at Elaine.

Elaine smiled back, hoping she didn’t look as confused as she felt. “Yes, he is.”

Marco chuckled darkly as Caroline fluttered off to greet the next couple that was entering the ballroom. He took her arm and led her to a cluster of tables that were designed with intimacy in mind. They were small—so small that when she took her seat and Marco took his their knees brushed beneath the table. Her heart sputtered.

“All of the food, and all the prep work that went into the food was donated,” he explained. “The guests paid two hundred dollars for each plate. All of the proceeds will go to the De Luca House.”

She smiled. “That’s great. What is the charity for?”

A shadow passed over his face for a brief moment. “Homeless children. It’s an issue that’s close to my heart.”

She realized at that moment just how little she knew about the man sitting across from her. His background wasn’t exactly a mystery, but there hadn’t been a lot of information on his childhood either. She’d found out through her careful research that his father had been a wealthy Sicilian businessman who had moved his family to New York when Marco had been a young teenager. But between that event and his meteoric rise to success in the real estate industry and beyond she hadn’t been able to find any details about his life. She’d just assumed he’d been growing up. Now she wondered. Marco claimed he was a self-made man, which meant that he’d built his empire up without the aid of his father’s riches.

She looked at him. He was engaged in a conversation with the couple next to them, his speech pattern eloquent, his manner perfect. His profile was aristocratic, and he wore tuxedos as though the whole concept of formalwear had been built around his physique. He didn’t look like a man who had ever struggled for anything.

At that moment, though, no amount of research into his background could have prepared her for the very disturbing effect Marco was having on her. She could hardly taste the gourmet dinner that had been prepared for the evening. Every few minutes her knees would brush Marco’s beneath the table, or someone would come to speak to Marco and congratulate them on their engagement, and Marco would take her hand and look lovingly into her eyes. Or, worse still, he would draw her hand to his lips and press a tender kiss to her knuckles and send the butterflies that had taken up residence in her stomach into tailspins.

When the plates were cleared, after-dinner drinks were served—which Elaine declined. Her defenses were weakened already. No sense at all throwing alcohol on the burning fire of her attraction to Marco. So instead she sat still in her chair, ramrod-straight, trying her best to smile at everyone who cast a glance in her direction, and trying not to jump a foot in the air every time Marco’s leg made contact with hers.

Tinkling crystal distracted her, and Elaine looked across the room at Caroline, who was standing on a riser at the far end of the room.

Caroline cleared her throat and the hum of conversation diminished. “I’d like to thank everyone for coming this evening. Your support means a tremendous amount. And I’d like to introduce the founder of De Luca House—Mr. Marco De Luca.”

Marco gave her a wry smile, stood from his seat and bent down to drop a lingering kiss on her cheek before he crossed the long expanse of the room. She couldn’t help but notice the sheer masculine grace his movements possessed. He stepped on the stage, his magnetic presence drawing the attention of everyone in the room and holding them, spellbound, in the palm of his hand. Her included.

“Thank you all for being here.” His rich velvet voice rolled over the room. Her stomach tightened. “In these economic times I know making large contributions might seem like a lot to ask. But I ask you to remember that these children have likely never had the most basic necessities, even in the best of times. They don’t have food, or clothing, or even shelter. They give no thought to four-star restaurants when they would give anything for a loaf of bread. What does fashion mean to them when they don’t have a coat to protect them from the elements?”

Elaine felt her throat constricting as she looked into his earnest dark eyes. Something near her heart shifted, and she wished more than anything that she could make it shift back. Because lust was bad enough, new enough, scary enough, without there being emotion involved.

Marco continued, his slight accent making his speech all the more compelling. “And how can we be concerned about keeping our summer homes when they do not even have the bare minimum of shelter?”

His speech went on, his words impassioned. He cited heart-wrenching statistics about how many of New York’s homeless were children who had fallen through the cracks in the system. The charity worked to provide those children with homes that would give them a sense of family, an education, and even occupational training. The vision was to provide them with a base they could always come back to, even after they reached legal age.

When Marco had finished, many of the guests were blinking back tears, and she had a feeling the emotions Marco had brought out in them would be reflected in their donations.

Marco made his way back to where she was standing, pausing at intervals to shake hands and direct people to the donation area.

When he came back to her side he wound his arm around her waist and her heart did a freefall into her stomach.

“That was…” she struggled to sound unaffected “…a very nice speech. I had no idea there was so much need.”

His dark eyes were clouded. “Many people assume that the government is taking care of all of the displaced children, but that is not the case.”

It hadn’t been the case for him. He and Rafael had been abandoned—first by their father, then by their mother. And no one had stepped in. No one had known about the two young teenagers who had been left to fend for themselves.

“Many people are unaware of what goes on in their own backyard. I consider it my duty to educate them and to do what I can.”

She chewed her lush bottom lip, and he had the strongest urge to use his tongue to soothe away the marks her teeth had left in the tender pink flesh. “So not all of the nice things you do are for public image?”

He chuckled darkly. “Not all. But most.”

A pianist began to play a slow, jazzy song, and couples started to migrate to the dance floor. Her body language was screaming that she didn’t want him to ask her to dance.

“Elaine, I think I should have this dance with my fiancée.”

He was amused when she pressed her lips into a thin line, her tension palpable. What would it take to kiss those lips into soft, willing supplication?

She was the epitome of hot, sexy woman in the skintight black dress that showcased curves so tempting they would make a priest sin, and still she maintained that untouchable aura of hers that she always threw up like a shield unless he kissed her.

She looked at the people around them, as if evaluating the situation to see if she could get away with a refusal. “All right.” She said it as though he’d offered her a jail sentence.

It was a source of fascination to him that this woman, who was so obviously attracted to him, so responsive to his touch, his kiss, acted as though physical contact between them was anathema to her.

Elaine tried to quiet the pounding of her pulse. She looked at the couples on the dance floor, their bodies entwined as they moved in a rhythm that seemed far too…sexual to simply call it dancing.

Marco trained his bright white smile on her, but this smile was different than any other he’d given her before. It was almost predatory. He extended his hand. “Dance with me.”

Not a question, a command. And for some reason a thrill ran through her rather than the anger that she’d expected, needed. Something about him was breaching her defenses, softening her. He was surprising her. He wasn’t just a shallow playboy, and she had been much more comfortable with him when she’d been able to just write him off as such.

She accepted his offered hand, hoping he didn’t notice that her own was damp with perspiration, and allowed him to lead her onto the dance floor. Not smart. Her practical inner voice was all but screaming at her.

Necessary, she countered, ignoring the churning pleasure in her stomach when he took her in his arms and brought her close to the heat of his body. Dancing with her fiancé was necessary. It wasn’t about anything but keeping her end of the bargain.

The music was sultry, captivating, and she found herself swaying in time to the rhythm. One of his hands held onto hers, the other was low on her back, holding her to him, bringing her breasts into contact with his hard muscled chest. Her nipples tightened, ached. It was so unfamiliar, unexpected, and no matter how much she wanted to she couldn’t hate it. She couldn’t even muster up a faint dislike for it.

Her heart was pounding and she was certain he must be able to feel it. Certain he would be able to see the fluttering pulse that she could feel moving at the base of her throat.

Marrying a stranger didn’t frighten her. Standing up in front of family and friends making vows she wasn’t going to keep didn’t bother her in the least. The thought of running a company wasn’t scary at all. Not next to this—this attraction that she didn’t want or understand. She always had control, and this sudden absence of it was terrifying. And oddly exhilarating.

She gripped his broad shoulders more fiercely in an instinctive effort to keep her knees from buckling beneath her. She regretted that instinct almost immediately.

He chuckled low, his hot breath fanning across her cheek, his grasp becoming stronger. Everything in her suddenly wanted to lean into him, kiss him again, to feel his mouth, hot, hard and insistent on hers.

She pulled away from him, her breathing labored, her body sluggish from unfamiliar desire. He looked amused. It was infuriating. Even worse that he knew exactly how he had affected her.

“Why do you pull away from it, Elaine?” he asked, his dark eyes compelling. Tempting.

“From what?” Playing ignorant was pointless, and she knew it, but pride and a desperate need to gain some sort of control pushed her to try anyway.

“From this.” He hooked his arm around her waist and drew her to him, tilting his hips so that she could feel the length of his hardened arousal.

She drew in a shaky breath. “Because I don’t feel the same way.”

He chuckled. “This isn’t about feelings. This is about lust. Want. Need. And you do feel it.” He stroked a thumb across her hot cheek. “It’s written all over your pretty face.”

And just like that he was back in the slot she’d placed him in at their first meeting. It was a relief. But it didn’t cause her own arousal to lessen. Her breasts felt heavy, sensitive, and she felt an embarrassing slickness well up between her thighs. She didn’t have to be an expert on sex to know that her body was getting ready to experience it.

Too bad.

“I’m not interested in getting played, Marco. When I proposed to you it was so I could have the company, not a fling.” It took every ounce of willpower she possessed to make her voice even and steady.

“Elaine Chapman?” Elaine turned to face the source of the voice, and her stomach sank to her toes when she recognized the man who had spoken her name.

“Yes?” She tried to appear poised, blank. She had perfected the act over the past few years. Better to be seen as an ice queen than to be seen as a slut.

A sick sensation weighted down her stomach. Daniel Parker. The man who had ruined her reputation because she hadn’t slept with him. She knew he wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to fling a few insults at her now.

She straightened her posture and mentally braced herself. It simply wasn’t in her to shy away from a challenge. She would not allow this man to intimidate and demean her. He’d gotten away with it once; she wasn’t letting it happen again.

Marco cupped her elbow and stuck his hand out toward the other man. “Marco De Luca. I’m Elaine’s fiancée.”

“Really?” Daniel drew the word out, extending it several syllables. He shifted his focus to Elaine. “Your taste in men hasn’t changed, then.”

She bit her tongue. She didn’t want to have this conversation, now or ever. Living through the humiliation and condemnation, and her subsequent barring from every decent firm in the city, had been bad enough. Rehashing it now just seemed stupid—especially when the man in front of her seemed to be out for blood. In a very sophisticated way, of course. There was no other way amongst the Manhattan elite.

To Marco’s credit, he didn’t comment. To Daniel’s discredit, he pressed. “You always did prefer a more powerful man.”

“I just prefer a man with as much ambition as I have,” she answered waspishly, tightening her hold on Marco’s arm. The fresh scent of his aftershave tickled her nose and, along with the surge of anger, quickened her pulse. “And they’re difficult to find.”

Daniel’s smile turned cruel. “I would have thought it would be difficult to climb the corporate ladder lying flat on your back.”

Her face heated unbearably, and she felt a surge of adrenaline infuse her veins with trembling energy. From the curious and condescending glares the other guests were giving her she knew no one in the immediate vicinity had missed Daniel’s sleazy allegations.

“At least I don’t feel as though I have to step on others on my way to the top,” she said coldly.

“Of course not, Elaine,” Daniel said, his eyes glinting. “You’ve just had to straddle others on your way to the top.”

Adrenaline surged through her, and she clenched her fists to try and still her shaking hands. Daniel didn’t wait for a response from her; he simply took the arm of his graceful, cold-looking date and walked away from them.

Marco put a hand on her elbow. “Do you want to leave?”

She looked around the room. People were still staring. She set her jaw. “No.”

He regarded her closely. “You look like you might break at any moment. I think for the sake of your pride it would be best if we left.”

She swallowed the lump that was rising in her throat and nodded her consent. She wasn’t going to cry, she wasn’t a crier by nature, but there was a very real danger that she might end up dumping a drink on Daniel’s head.

Marco thanked Caroline for hosting the event and slipped his arm around Elaine’s waist, leading her down to the limousine that was idling at the curb. He opened the door for her and she slid inside. He got in and sat beside her, sitting closer to her than was strictly necessary.

“Are you all right?” Marco asked, studying her drawn face. The encounter with that man had disturbed her. She had kept her wits in place, not letting him cow her, but it had affected her.

She angled her face away from him, keeping her eyes trained on the brightly lit streets. “Of course. People like that are a part of life, aren’t they? People who resent the success of others.”

“Perhaps just their methods,” he said coolly.

“Perhaps. But if I really was climbing the corporate ladder I doubt I would be stuck in a cubicle.”

“I doubt you would be stuck in a cubicle if you hadn’t been caught messing around with your married supervisor. Word spreads.”

Her head whipped around. “And sometimes word is wrong. I can’t beat the rumors, Marco. Believe me, I’ve tried. No one believes the truth, and the lie makes me a liability that nobody wants around the office. So I’ve found my way around it. Hard work isn’t going to be enough—not with all of that—” she gestured toward the direction of the hotel “—hanging over my head. But I’m not the woman Daniel says I am, and I refuse to be punished for sins I didn’t commit.”

Marco shrugged. “Frankly, I don’t care what happened. Whether or not you slept with your boss is wholly irrelevant to me. But I must warn you that while some men might be easily blinded by generous curves, I’m not. You can’t use your body to get to my heart or my bank account.”

She clenched her teeth. “My body isn’t on offer.”

“Really?”

She was angry, he could see that, and it was genuine. At being called out or at being falsely accused, he wasn’t certain. He knew she was calculating—he had known it before she’d walked into his office. But it was no matter to him. He was hardly going to become a victim of her machinations like her foolish supervisor had supposedly been. He wasn’t going to be swayed by her tempting mouth and her lush curves. He was far too jaded for that.

Of course she was welcome to try. It would make the next twelve months interesting.

“Really,” she stated emphatically. “For what it’s worth, I have too much pride to seduce my boss into promoting me.”

He studied the haughty tilt of her chin. It was very possible that she did have too much pride to do anything like that—now. She had been very young after all.

“It’s no matter to me one way or the other.”

She scoffed. “Not worried that I’ll take advantage of you?”

“Not in the least.” He had infinite experience with conniving women. “Although you’re welcome to try.”

Angry color suffused her milk-pale skin. “I don’t think that will happen. We have a deal. I already have what I want,” she said stiffly.

He moved his hand to her soft cheek, letting his finger drift along her silken skin. He felt a sharp tug in his midsection and his shaft hardened. What was it about this woman that made her such a temptation? “But what if you could get more? Doesn’t that appeal to you?”

She blew out a breath, its heat fanning across his hand. “No. I only want what I earn.”

A slow smile spread across his face. “That could be taken many different ways, cara mia.”

“You know what I mean,” she said tightly.

The limo pulled up at the curb in front of her small, shabby apartment building. Neither of them moved.

She parted her lips and slicked her tongue across their surface. She was pure temptation. And he wasn’t used to resisting.

He leaned in, half expecting her to draw back. But she met him in the middle, her soft lips clinging, her mouth molding to his, her tongue testing him almost shyly. He cupped the back of her head and crushed her to him, delving deep inside her mouth, tasting her.

She pulled back abruptly, shoving hard at his chest, her blue eyes rounded, her lips pinched. “That shouldn’t have happened.”

“It was only a kiss,” he growled, knowing he sounded as frustrated as he felt. But he had been ready to take her in the back seat of his car, with only the privacy shield and tinted glass between them and the world.

“And it shouldn’t have happened,” she insisted.

She ran her hands over her tightly knotted hair. Even after their passionate interlude there wasn’t a lock out of place, he noticed with wry humor.

She drew in a sharp breath and thrust her chin high, her prim façade firmly back in its place. “I would invite you in,” she said tartly, “but I don’t want to.”

“You want me to come in. You’re just afraid of what might happen if I do.”

She looked thoughtful. “You’re right. This might be the perfect opportunity to seduce you out of your millions. But, darn it all, I have a headache.”

He laughed. At least she was amusing. “I guess even temptresses need a night off now and then.”

She gave him a humorless smile and stepped out of the car.

“Elaine?”

She paused, her expression cautious.

“Next time I see you you’ll be wearing a white dress.”

CHAPTER FIVE

THE WEDDING HAD become sort of much-anticipated society event, despite how little time had passed between the announcement and the actual ceremony—or maybe because of that reason. Elaine couldn’t help but think that the haste of the marriage was part of what made it interesting.

She felt half the eyes in the historic church examining her flat stomach speculatively as she walked down the long aisle.

The air was heavy with the perfume of flowers, compliments of her overzealous wedding planner, and the late-afternoon sun streamed through a round stained glass window, throwing squares of blue light onto the stone floor. It was a beautiful wedding. But it was someone else’s wedding. None of it was to her taste except for her simple dress. But none of that mattered. All that mattered was what would happen twelve months from this moment. When the company she had worked so hard for would be hers.

She raised her eyes and looked at her groom, waiting for her at the head of the aisle. She had never seen him look so handsome. His tuxedo was black and well fitted, showing off broad shoulders and a tapered waist. He was in fantastic shape, but hours in the gym weren’t the biggest contributing factor to his immense appeal. He was handsome, criminally so, his chiseled features the perfect blend of masculinity and beauty. But it was his charisma, his raw confidence, his power that made people gravitate to him. He wasn’t like any man, any person, she’d ever met. And she was about to marry him.

She swallowed. Her throat felt like the inside of a pincushion.

This is nothing but a business deal. Nothing but another contract.

She shifted her bouquet and took her groom’s hand.

* * *

Elaine had no idea how she’d managed to make it through the ceremony, the receiving line, and four hours of the reception. Her feet hurt from wearing her extremely impractical shoes, and her face hurt from all the overly cheerful smiling. And dancing with Marco, clinging to his arm, trying to pretend that she wasn’t melting from the heat he was making her feel, had been as taxing as it had been torturous.

She sank into the limo with a sigh, and rested her head on the back of the seat. “That was exhausting.”

“New brides usually say that after the honeymoon.”

Heat flooded her face. Her treacherous mind was all too willing to offer up possible ways Marco could tire her out. She did not need this. Not now, and not with this relic from the Dark Ages.

The limo, which had been decorated with over-the-top script writing that said Mr. and Mrs. Marco De Luca, pulled up to the curb in front of Marco’s penthouse. She didn’t wait for him to open the door for her. She got out and waited for him by the entrance of the building.

He caught up to her and passed her by, his long legs taking strides much faster than her own legs could carry her. She’d changed after the reception into a white silk pencil skirt and a green sweater, but she was still wearing the ridiculous stilettos, which made walking fast a little tricky.

She trailed after him down the long marble corridor. This was the sort of love den she’d expected a man like him to own. His women probably fawned over it. Then over him.

Her stomach lurched at the thought of him bringing other women back here. How many had there been? More importantly, how many would she have to see during their marriage? Would she be able to hear them as she lay in her own bedroom trying to sleep?

“This is my elevator.”

“You have your own personal elevator?” All those little tarts he paraded though here probably loved that.

“Yes, it acts as the main door to my house. It would be a security risk if everyone could use it.” He spoke to her as if she might be a small child.

“Does everyone have their own elevator?”

“No, just me.” He offered a smug grin at that.

He entered a key code into the number pad that was on the lift and the doors opened. The ride up was a long one; he was on the top floor, naturally—what penthouse wasn’t? When the ping signaled that they had reached their destination, the doors opened and revealed a bright, airy living room. It didn’t match with the rest of the building at all. Nothing tacky or overdone about it. No gold filigree on the windows. No champagne glass hot tub dominating the room.

Far from any of the glittering garishness she’d imagined, it was a contemporary design with clean, sleek lines that didn’t suffer from the impersonal, cold feeling of some modern décor.

White walls and vaulted ceilings added to the feeling of openness, along with floor-to-ceiling windows that afforded a fantastic view of the sparkling Manhattan skyline.

The kitchen and living room flowed into one another seamlessly. The countertops in the kitchen were granite, and the appliances were top-of-the-line stainless steel. It was a modern luxury Mecca. The kind of home she’d always imagined setting up for herself. Of course her overcrowded one-bedroom apartment with its mismatched secondhand furniture could hardly compete with Marco’s spacious, state-of-the-art penthouse. She just didn’t have the cash to own such high-end things. Loath as she was to admit it, living here wasn’t going to be a trial.

“You like it?” Marco asked. His husky, sexy voice sent a tremor through her body, and she had to tamp down the wave of longing that threatened to rise up and swamp her. No, it was going to be a trial, all right. Just a luxurious one.

“I do. It’s very tastefully decorated, and the view is amazing. Although the windows don’t offer much privacy, do they?”

“Will we be needing privacy?” He raised his eyebrows, his expression one of keen interest.

Her face went hot. “No! I just meant…I mean because people could see in.”

“They can’t. It’s one way glass. But I’ll make a mental note that you intend to do things in my living room that require privacy.” He gave her a look that was so hot it nearly melted the soles of her ridiculous shoes. “I’ll make it a point to work from my home office more often.”

It was at times like this that she really wished she could come up with some witty, off-the-cuff remark, but his casual innuendos always left her a mess.

She cleared her throat and tried to salvage some dignity. “Where is my room?” Anything to escape.

“Down the hall, last door. You have your very own en suite bathroom, so you’ll have all the privacy you need. I’ll be in my office; I have some work to do.” She didn’t watch to see which direction he went—didn’t even try to. She just headed down the hall, the promise of a hot bath keeping her going.

Her bedroom was white, like the rest of the house, and she was pleased to see that she had a view of the city skyline out of her window as well. It certainly beat the view from her own apartment, which consisted of a brick wall and her neighbor’s bedroom window.

All of her worldly possessions, except for her furniture, had been brought over by movers earlier today, and most everything was still packed away in boxes and stacked neatly in the corner. She wrinkled her nose. She wasn’t going to be unpacking tonight. All she wanted tonight was her bath and then bed. An image of Marco, his chest bare, his skin tan against her white sheets, flashed in her mind.

Alone. She would be going to bed alone.

She padded into the bathroom and her heart nearly stopped. There was a separate shower and jet tub, all tiled with caramel-colored Italian marble. The tub was so deep it looked as if she could sink in up to her neck and lose herself completely.

She went back into her bedroom and rummaged around until she found her iPod, then gave a casual scan for the bag she’d packed her clothes in. She didn’t see it, and decided to forego searching for pajamas until after she’d had a chance to let the warm water work the knots out of her muscles.

It took a while to fill up the massive tub, but it was worth the wait. Elaine submerged herself in the warm water and felt the tension slowly recede from her tightened muscles. She laid her head back and closed her eyes, letting the events of the day slip from her cluttered mind.

Her quiet moment was shattered by a rush of cold air. She jerked her head up and scrambled to cover anything that might be showing when she saw Marco standing in the doorway.

“Good—glad to see you’re making yourself at home.”

“Get out!” She had never been naked in front of a man before. She very likely hadn’t been naked in front of anyone since she’d been in diapers. She was the type to avoid public locker rooms and showers.

“Spare me your maidenly modesty.”

He had no idea how apt a description that was.

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, and often.”

Her ears burned at his casual reference to his love-life.

“I had hoped that we could put this off for a day or two, but I’m needed in Hawaii to close a very important deal,” he went on.

“Can we have this conversation when I’m not naked and dripping wet, please?”

Marco clenched his teeth. The images that statement evoked were so erotic he nearly hauled her slippery body out of the tub so he could show her just what he could accomplish while she was naked and dripping wet.

He had thought that by walking in on her bath he could remove the mystery, and in so doing remove some of her allure. But far from it. The hints of peachy skin he could see beneath the water had him hard and wanting her with a ferocity that shocked him.

Her attempts to cover herself had pushed her cleavage higher above the surface of the water, and he was having trouble tearing his eyes away so that he could look at her face when she talked. He’d seen plenty of naked women—plenty of beautiful, naked women. Why should this one be special? She shouldn’t be. But she was.

“Fine, I’ll wait for you in the living room.”

As soon as he left the room, Elaine scrabbled out of the tub. She wrapped a towel around herself and cautiously peeked into her room. After she’d verified that a certain arrogant, pain-in-the-butt hunk wasn’t in there she set about looking for something more substantial than the towel that was currently the only thing separating her from total exposure.

Privacy? Ha! They were apparently using different dictionaries.

She opened the closet for the first time, and almost choked on her tongue. There wasn’t a black or navy blue suit in sight. The closet was filled with clothes that she was certain bore designer labels, and every last one of them was as far removed from her general uniform as possible. This whole arrangement just got better and better. He was still playing dress-up with her.

She rifled through the clothes. Cashmeres, silks and cottons. Reds, golds and blues. The small girlish part of her that generally lay dormant was delighted by the selection. It was like shopping in her own home.

It’s like being bought.

And she wasn’t going to accept that. But she wasn’t going out to talk to him in a towel either.

She heard Marco pacing the hardwood floor in the living room. She fingered a beautiful silk dress that hung on one of the hangers. It bothered her immensely that she was thinking about wearing it, thinking about what Marco’s reaction might be to it.

She shoved the dress and the clothes next to it aside fiercely, banishing the thought of Marco’s touch burning her through thin silk.

Everything in the closet was extremely feminine, and extremely flimsy. She selected a dress made of a stretch cotton, by far the sturdiest piece of clothing available, and folded it over her arm as she went to look in the dresser for underwear. It wasn’t a big surprise that the same man who’d most likely hidden her sensible wardrobe approved of her lingerie.

Her face heated at the thought of his hands on her lacy bras and panties. It seemed so intimate, so unbearably sensual. She picked a pair of red underwear and a matching lace bra. She let her fingers glide over the material. Had Marco touched them like this? Imagined her wearing them? She clenched her thighs together to try and quell the rapid pulse that was beating at their apex. Her nipples beaded shamelessly against the rough terrycloth of the towel that was still wrapped tightly around her.

Elaine put a fierce stop to her runaway imagination. She put the offending underwear on hurriedly, before slipping the wrap dress on and tying the sash around her waist as tightly as possible. The neckline dipped low, and she was tempted to look for a safety pin to bring the edges of the v-neck together.

“Elaine?” Marco’s rich voice floated down the hall and she hurriedly left the room. The prospect of him coming into her bedroom was a bit more than her abnormally alert hormones could bear.

Marco turned when he heard Elaine enter the room. He’d hoped that he would have managed to get his rampaging lust under control by the time his new wife had dressed and come out to meet him. And he might have, had she not appeared in the living room looking like every man’s fantasy.

The red wrap dress was held onto her luscious body with a bow, making her look like a present that had been wrapped up just for him. A present he wanted very much to unwrap.

His fingers itched to pull the end of the bow and reveal the pearly skin that lay beneath the dress. He ached to see each gorgeous inch of her delectable body laid bare before his eyes, to touch her silken skin, to taste the hollow beneath her throat.

The seam on his pants bit into his growing erection and he shifted, trying to disguise his reaction to her.

“So, now that I’m decent, you were saying…?” She sat on the couch. Her breasts moved with her, their gentle bounce drawing his attention. If she was wearing a bra it was a flimsy lingerie piece, meant to showcase a woman’s breasts rather than conceal anything. He could see the perky outline of her nipples through the thin cotton. Would they be pale and pink like the rest of her? He gritted his teeth. She had to be doing this on purpose. No one could look that provocative by accident.

She was even better than he’d given her credit for. The guise of straitlaced businesswoman had put him at ease, but she was slowly dropping the charade and showing glimpses of the real Elaine. She had acted embarrassed when he’d walked in on her during her bath, but he sincerely doubted that a woman so seductive would be put off by something like that.

She’d done a wonderful job concealing the provocative, sexual part of her nature. Despite her reputation she’d nearly managed to convince him that she was an uptight prude. He could see now what a good little actress she was.

The woman sitting in front of him was a woman who knew the effect she had on men. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were bright, giving her the look of a woman who had recently indulged in hedonistic passions. There was simply no way she could be unaware of the sheer sex appeal that she exuded.

It might be fun to play her game, to take what she was offering for a while, as long as they were both sharing the same home. It was definitely tempting. He knew she had an agenda, but it was of little concern to him. He would be more than able to enjoy her physically and not get snared in her trap.

Later, when the deal with James Preston was ironed out, he would consider taking her up on the offer to use her delectable body.

He cleared his throat and sat in the chair opposite her. He looked to Elaine as if he was readying for a board meeting. Still, looking as formidable as he did, he was the sexiest man she had ever seen.

“What did you do with my clothes?” she asked, one eyebrow quirked.

“They’re still in a box somewhere,” he said, waving his hand dismissively.

“You didn’t think you should consult me before giving my wardrobe a complete overhaul?”

“It needed one. You can trust me on that.”

“I don’t relish feeling like you’re buying me.”

He chuckled. “But that’s basically what I’ve done. I’m paying you with Chapman Electronics to be my wife. And if you’re going to be playing the part of Mrs. De Luca you need to look the part. Actors are provided with costumes. If it makes you feel better, then look at it that way.”

She opened her mouth as if she was going to offer up one of her tart one-liners, then closed it again as if she’d thought better of it.

“You already know that I’ve been eyeing one of James Preston’s resort properties in Hawaii, and that he’s reluctant to sell to me because of my reputation?”

“Yes, I remember. The Hanalei Bay Resort.”

James Preston was a legendary hotelier. His resort property on the island of Kauai was the “it” spot for corporate retreats, celebrity weddings, and romantic getaways for the über-wealthy.

He gave her a wry smile. “That’s the one.”

“Is he still unsure about you?”

“He’s getting there, but he wants to meet with me personally before he agrees to anything.”

“Naturally.”

He nodded. “And of course I’ll need to do a thorough sweep of the property before I make a final decision.”

“How long will you be gone?”

“We shouldn’t be gone for more than a couple weeks.”

“We?”

“Yes. We.”

“What about my job? You just expect me to pick up and go gallivanting off to paradise and leave them in the lurch?”

“Yes, Elaine, I do. Think of this as an extended job interview. If you do things to my satisfaction, in the end you’ll get the company. However, if my goals are compromised so are yours. Remember that.”

Marco could see the war that was being waged behind her eyes. The fierce light that had glinted in their blue depths when she’d thought about arguing, the anger when she’d realized she had no choice but to accompany him, to hold to her end of the contract. Then, finally, he’d seen acceptance.

“When do we leave?”

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