Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-Two

I f Nick was a bad boy, Brittany was a bad girl.

A very bad girl.

When she'd woken in Nick's arms the first morning after their wedding, she'd felt him pulling away, trying to disengage. And while winding up with her head resting on his chest and the rest of her draped over him hadn't been planned, she'd taken full advantage of the situation.

Maybe not full advantage, as that would've entailed doing a lot more than cuddling, but she'd pretended to sleep while savouring the hard chest cushioning her cheek, the warm, toned body beneath her hands, and his intensely male scent that set off her pheromones in a big way and always had.

She could've stopped there but, no, she'd been a really, really bad girl.

And proceeded to do the same every morning.

For the last two weeks.

The tension was killing her. If only it were doing the same to her husband.

'How's business coming along?'

Her head snapped up from where she'd been resting her chin in her hands, staring out the window and daydreaming of exactly how bad she'd like to be, to find the object of her wicked fantasies staring at her with cool detachment.

It had to be a ruse. After all, wasn't Nick the one who'd been hot to trot on their wedding night? Surely he couldn't have turned off?

By his compressed lips and grim expression, apparently so.

She waved her hand at the stack of paperwork on the table in front of her. 'The photographer's been out to the plantation every day this week and taken loads of shots. The cameraman's due out there tomorrow, and I'm collating some of the historical info I got from your grandfather's ledgers. So everything's coming along nicely.'

He crossed the room to perch on the edge of the table, meaning her eyes were now level with his crotch, and she quickly stood, not needing to look there considering her thoughts a few moments ago.

'You've been busy.'

‘Yeah, because I've got loads to do.' She flung her arms a metre apart. ‘I've got a task list a mile long today, including heading out to the plantation to scout more locations, checking the ones I've already chosen, making sure they match the information I'm in the process of adding to the pitch—'

'Hold on.' His hand shot out, gripping hers, and preventing her from putting some much-needed distance between them.

Trying not to show how much his simple touch affected her, she raised an eyebrow. 'What's up?'

Shaking his head, he squeezed her hand before releasing it. 'I'm no good at this.'

'At what?'

'This whole fake marriage thing.'

Maybe the tension was getting to him after all.

'Not used to sharing a suite, huh?'

He must've heard her teasing tone but rather than smile, he fixed her with a piercing stare. 'Not used to sharing a suite with you.'

Right then she knew, no matter how cool Nick had been acting, he was just as rattled by their underlying attraction as she was.

'Oh? I thought it'd be a breeze.'

She waltzed around the room, picking up random items of clothing for the photo shoots: floral skirts, summer dresses, and the odd piece of lingerie or two.

She wasn't playing fair with the lingerie but hey, she wanted to get a reaction out of him, and if the tortured look that flickered across his face as she twirled an ebony satin bra on the end of her finger before tossing it onto a pile was any indication, her plan was working.

'A breeze? More like a damn tropical cyclone,' he muttered, shoving off the table and heading for the wide window affording a glorious view of Noosa beach.

'I'm getting to you, aren't I?' She snuck up behind him, stopping short of sliding her arms around his waist and laying her head against his back.

He didn't turn, keeping his gaze fixed on the stunning view. 'I guess this business arrangement of ours isn't quite what I expected.'

'That's because we share a past, you doofus.'

Oops. Had she really said that out loud? By the speed at which he turned to face her, she had.

An endearing smile curled his lips. 'Doofus?'

'I've called you worse.'

His eyes darkened, as if he could recall everything she'd ever called him and more. 'Yeah, I remember.'

She'd come this far, might as well go for broke. 'What else do you remember?'

Silence stretched between them, surprising her. Nick might be many things, but chicken wasn't one of them. She'd called his bluff, expecting some kind of answer even if it was a dismissive smartass remark.

Just when she'd given up, he finally reached out and twirled a strand of her hair around his finger.

'I remember you wore your hair long, to your waist. I remember how you used to squeal on the back of my motorbike as I rounded the bends.' He tugged on her hair, bringing her closer…and closer until there was a whisper between them. 'But most of all, I remember how you made me feel back then.'

Unexpected emotion clogged her throat, effectively clouding her sweep-me-into-your-arms fantasy. She'd wanted to prove the sizzle existed between them, wanted to tease him, wanted to get a reaction out of him.

The last thing she'd expected was a serious trip down memory lane from a guy who acted as if they didn't have a past most of the time.

'How did I make you feel?'

Close, his breath feathered her lips, sending a ripple of longing so intense through her it took her breath away.

'Like I could make all our dreams come true.'

She sighed, wishing he hadn't pushed her away, wishing he'd said yes when she'd asked him to move away with her all those years ago, wishing he had made her dreams come true.

He was all she'd ever wanted, until her freedom became all important. She'd thought she had it all, convinced he'd move to London and they'd have the life they wanted. Until he'd withdrawn from her, shutting her out emotionally and physically, citing work and study and family as a means not to see her.

She'd persisted, sure they were meant to be together, captivated by the occasional glimpse of the guy she'd fallen in love with, wary of who he'd become the harder she pushed for them to leave town.

Her dreams had been big; big enough for both of them. But Nick wasn't the dream-maker she'd once been foolish to believe.

Acknowledging their attraction was one thing, opening her heart another, and while she wanted him now more than ever she knew nothing had changed.

He still wouldn't follow her to London even if she were stupid enough to ask.

'Nick, I don't think—'

'Then don't. Think, that is,' he murmured, a second before his lips locked on hers in the softest heartbreaking kiss that reached all the way down to her soul.

It lasted less than a few seconds, a fleeting glimpse of tenderness rarely seen from this passionate man, and when he raised his head, brushed her bottom lip with a fingertip and walked away, he left her reeling.

Reeling with the knowledge she still believed in dreams.

And his ability to make hers come true.