strong and sure. A wry twist cracked his mouth. A toss of the dice was too risky…a fool’s folly. He needed a sure hit.
A rumble erupted from deep in his chest, and he dumped half the coffee down his throat. In the distance a foghorn sounded, signaling it was time to get his butt to the office and face his creditors…and his secretary. Still he hesitated. He could sell out and liquidate his assets or refinance and cash out. But with real estate shifting from a sellers’ to a buyers’ market, he’d still be short by three million.
How had his uncle known the exact amount?
“Oh darn.” The muffled exclamation and the scraping of a chair across the floor zoomed him back to the frontlines…and to her. Ms. McLowsky had already yanked out the mangled document from the printer, inserted new paper and resumed her stiff pose at the computer.
He skimmed her head, barely noticing the highlights glinting on her hair from the sunbeam filtering through the windowpane. His gaze bounced off the graceful line of her neck to her mouth, now pursed in concentration, her fingers tapping the keys. He had to buy himself some time, even if it meant being forced to the altar with her.
The growl in his throat sounded, and Nina snapped her head up, her huge eyes mirrored through the lenses.
A pinprick to his heart, but he set his jaw and steeled every muscle in his body.
Collateral damage.
He was engaging in a battle on the global economic field to recoup his losses—little Nina McLowsky was simply collateral damage. He grunted.
“Is that part of the memo, sir?”
Snooty Ms. McLowsky? Well, well… he curved his mouth in a bemused smile. Might turn out to be the best fun he’d had in a long time.
“Very funny, Ms. McLows…er…Nina.” Her name skimmed across his tongue like Southern Comfort, smooth, hot, sensuous. “Let’s dispense with formality, shall we?” He loosened his tie. “Since we’re about to tie the knot.” He clicked his tongue. “For better or worse.”
“Worse is what I’m thinking,” she mumbled beneath her breath.
“What was that, Ms.…er…Nina?”
******
Nina sat strapped in the seat of Century Corp’s private Lear plane beside her husband and stared out the window at rain battering the runway. The summer storm had turned the day dismal, reflecting her thoughts. She twisted the gold band around her finger. Three hours. She’d been married to Cade Sloan all of three hours, and she was now about to jet across the globe for their honeymoon. She curled her fingers so tightly, her pink tipped nails bit into her palm. Moisture beaded her upper lip.
She glanced at him, slouched in his seat and snoozing like he hadn’t a care in the world.
Her temples throbbed.
When the plane taxied down the runway of John F Kennedy International Airport, she clutched the seat arms and held her breath.
The aircraft picked up speed and then they were airborne.
A sigh of relief forced its way from her tight throat, and she unclenched her hands. She lifted a stray curl off her moist brow, patted the dampness with a tissue from her purse, and crumpled it between her fingers.
Her stomach rolled.
Gulping down nausea, she leaned her head to the side and shut her eyes, but that made it worse. She opened her eyes wide and collided with the intensity of his gaze. It socked her breast, shot into her heart and scrambled her vitals. She sucked in oxygen, desperately, and he bolted upright.
“You okay?”
She nodded, and then shook her head, her hand flying to her mouth.
“Here, lie back.” He reclined the chair, placed his hand on her shoulder and eased her down. When he stretched across to adjust the light blanket over her, he accidentally bumped her breasts, sending an electrical sizzle into her body.
She held her breath. He expelled his.
The subtle mint of his breath brushed her hot cheek, alerting her senses. He stayed near for another second. It seemed endless. Her pulse skyrocketed.
Thankfully, that took her mind off the tornado in her stomach.
Then he pulled away.
Pent up air in her lungs shot forth through her lips as she sighed in relief.
“Want something to eat?”
“Ummm,” she mouthed, glaring at him.
“Bad choice of words, huh?” He curved his mouth in a half grin, a gesture that had her breath looping around her ribs. “Some water?”
She rolled her eyes.
“Guess not.”
Heck, Cade didn’t know what to do with a tipsy woman in the confines of the aircraft cabin. He squinted at Nina, and her pallor had him wanting to gather her into his arms and stroke her, to smell her subtle scent that seemed to wrap around his heart and not let go. He chuckled at his foolish musing. Get a handle, Sloan.
She’d do for a bit of wedding night bliss to seal the deal with the backer…then he’d keep his distance, avoid complications until such time as he could reasonably unload her.
“Shouldn’t imbibe on booze on an empty stomach,” he bit out. She must have overdone it with the pre-flight cocktails while he dozed; something he rarely did, but on his own cruiser, he felt he could steal a few moments of shut-eye.
She opened her mouth to give him some sass but quickly shut it tight.
“You’ll feel better by the time we get to Larnaca.” He set his jaw, knowing full well he had to go through the farce and show up there with his bride before collecting the cash.
Someone had set him up to take the fall. The sharks that he put on the case had worked out that the tip-offs came from an undisclosed location in Europe. In the meantime, he had to stack his arsenal to ensure a victory.
Cade glanced her way, and then retreated.
It’d work for him…a combo deal; business and pleasure.
He’d make sure of it.
He tossed her another look, and got booted somewhere in the vicinity of his heart for his trouble. Odd. Definitely odd. He waggled his shoulders and dismissed the feeling.
The one night with her should zip by without a hitch, and then he’d be off with Century Corp intact, pockets full and little Nina would be history.
“So, lie back and enjoy the ride Mrs…uh…Sloan,” he muttered, doing just that.
******
Nina had endured the remainder of the flight, and had actually snoozed for a couple of hours while they flew over the Atlantic Ocean.
Then before she realized it, they were descending over the Mediterranean and toward the seaside Larnaca International Airport on the island of Cyprus. The jolt of the jet’s wheels on the landing strip jostled her awake, and by the time she reoriented herself, they were disembarking.
A blast of heat had smacked her face, and she stepped back, bumping into her husband’s iron-hard chest. He took her elbow to guide her down the stairs, and shivers shot up her arm. She faltered in her step, and the strap of her sandal snapped loose.
“Steady there.” He spanned her waist, his touch an electric charge to her nervous system, and lifted her over the last three steps of the aircraft’s ladder. Just before he set her on her feet, his temple brushed hers and she glanced up, so close, she could see the brown tint of his lashes, smell. He glanced down, and she tumbled into his golden-brown gaze.
She held her breath, her heart pounding.
He shuttered his eyes, and let her go. “Okay