The Doctor's Billion-Dollar Bride, page 12
But did he know how close to tears she was? Why on earth? What was she doing, wanting to cry?
It was the day, she told herself frantically. The emotion. The build-up and the tension.
The fear.
What did she have to be afraid of? she asked herself with something akin to desperation. This was a contract only. It meant nothing. How could it mean anything?
He let his fingers drop but he didn’t move back. ‘You’re safe, Jodie,’ he said softly. ‘I swear.’
And, as if on cue, something brushed her leg.
What was it? Seaweed? No, something solid. Moving!
To say she levitated would not be an understatement. Somehow, some way, she was in the air—and when she descended, she was in Seb’s arms. And he had her and he was lifting her away, striding back out of the waves into the shallows.
Chuckling?
Chuckling!
‘What...? What...?’ The shock of something brushing her leg wasn’t as great as being in this man’s arms.
‘It looked like a groper,’ he told her. ‘A big ’un. I saw its shadow in the moonlight. It bumped right into you. I’ve never seen a woman levitate before.’
‘A groper...’ She caught her breath. Of course. She’d seen one here before, a big, beautiful creature that moseyed around in the shallows.
Gropers were a lot more wary of humans than humans were of them, and given noise and splashing, they’d flee. It had probably been hiding under the rock ledge, and then, when the splashing got too close, decided the safest course was to get out and bolt.
They were harmless. There’d been no reason at all for her to end up in this guy’s arms, and for him to be carrying her out of the water.
‘I... Put me down,’ she said shakily.
‘When I reach the sand,’ he promised. ‘Chivalry demands no less.’
‘Seb...’
‘You can’t expect to do the fairy princess bit and not have a gallant knight do his thing in return,’ he said severely. ‘Where’s my sword when I need it? Or my pet dragon?’
And then, to her own astonishment, she heard herself giggle. Giggle! She was being carried, whether she liked it or not. She was in this guy’s arms and...
And why not enjoy it?
She was being carried by her husband. The thought should have been overwhelming, it should have been enough for her to fight to be put down, to retreat to the place where she always retreated, her own head, her only place of refuge.
But oh, the way she was starting to feel. This was crazy, but somehow a tiny betraying sliver of her brain was saying, You’ve dated before. You’ve had fun before. Why is this any different? You can surely enjoy this man, enjoy his body, take pleasure and walk away, as you’ve walked away in the past?
The logical part of her brain was trying to yell a response—No! You can’t walk away. You’ll be living with this guy for two years, like it or not. Don’t be so stupid. What you need are barriers, so put them up now!
But that betraying sliver was growing louder. You’ve walked away before, no problems. You can do it again. Just for tonight... Just for now...
He’d reached the shore but, instead of putting her down, he carried her further up the beach, to where they’d dumped their towels.
‘There’ll be crabs,’ he told her before she’d even protested. ‘I’ve already saved you from a groper, and I’m on a roll. A knight in shining armour. If I’ve saved you this far, I’m not about to let you get nibbled by sand crabs.’
And astonishingly she heard herself giggle again, and that betraying voice turned into a betraying clamour that was almost enveloping her whole brain. A knight in shining armour... How crazy was that, but this night...this man...this moment...
What was happening? She had no idea. All she knew was that something weird was taking over. This whole fantasy, this night, the moonlight on the water, this man’s arms...
And when finally he reached the pile of towels and set her back on her feet, the fantasy held. She found she’d lost all capacity to step back, to move away.
And he didn’t move back either. His hands were still resting lightly on her waist. He was smiling down at her, his gaze gentle and a little quizzical.
‘Safe, Jodie love?’ he said softly.
‘I... Yes. Thank you for saving me from...a groper.’
‘It’s my very great pleasure,’ he told her, and she looked up at him and saw his smile—and something inside her simply melted.
This wasn’t what was supposed to happen. She wasn’t allowed to feel like this. No!
But why not? What was she scared of?
Was she scared?
Somewhere, under the woman fighting an inner battle right now, was the Jodie who lived life on her terms. Who’d made decisions years back to call the shots. Who’d had the stuffing kicked out of her at fifteen—or even earlier, if she was honest—who’d had to live with the anger and emptiness caused by the decisions of others and had resolved never again to do...what was expected. What was demanded.
What was demanded, right now, was that she keep her distance.
The sensible voice in her head—the one she’d trained for years—was shouting, Stay away from this guy, don’t let him near, keep your distance. But this night, this fantasy, this man, they were all conspiring to allow another voice to build. The voice that said, You know you want to. Who’s to say you can’t?
No one.
Be sensible, the first voice whispered, but it was struggling to be heard. The second was drowning it out. Because of this night? Because of this man? Because of the way he’d carried her out of the surf, because of the way he was looking at her, smiling at her...respecting her wishes?
So many sensations had been building over these past weeks. The images of him in Al Delebe, doing such good. Seb, a man of such power, looking at her shabby little cottage and not raising any doubts. Yes, he’d live here, yes, he’d do what he could, but she knew it wasn’t just for him. There was so much at stake, so much he could do for so many.
He was so...so Seb? Her mind couldn’t find the right descriptors, but she must. She was fighting for logic but it was nowhere. After all the logic she’d used to agree to this arrangement, was her body suddenly deciding to capitulate?
Capitulate? It was no such thing, her inner voice was saying. She was taking power back, because right now she wanted him.
She’d had lovers before, of course she had—that disastrous adolescent fumble hadn’t put her off for ever. Boyfriends had been transient, no strings attached. She’d enjoyed them. Sometimes she’d even fancied she’d loved them, but she’d always moved on. So why not this man?
Why not take this night, this time, even these two years and milk it for all it was worth? Why not...?
He was looking down at her, still smiling, but the smile was gently questioning. Seb. This man.
And in the face of that smile, the inner voices faded to nothing. The arguments were a muddled mess, to be kicked aside in the face of something far, far more important.
Before she knew what her betraying self intended, she raised herself on her toes, she looped her hands around his neck—and she kissed him.
And as her mouth met his, as his arms strengthened their hold, as her tentative kiss was met with a desire that said he felt the same, the last of her qualms dissolved.
She was being held close, cradled, skin against skin, wet, warm, filled with adrenaline, high from the day...
Wanting.
The voices could go fight among themselves, she thought with the last sliver of consciousness available for such awareness. This man, this night, this moment—this was all that mattered.
The fear could take itself right out to sea and disappear for ever.
* * *
One moment he was swimming with a woman who seemed almost afraid to look at him. A woman—his wife—who’d seemed nothing but clinical and businesslike as she’d organised a wedding that was pure fantasy, and then who’d stepped out of her fantasy clothes and moved on. She was a bride under contract for two years, a paid arrangement, a million dollars for a make-believe bride.
And then there’d been one groper, brushing a leg, causing her to jump, causing him to catch her in his arms, causing him to feel the warmth, the strength of her body, causing...desire.
But maybe there’d always been desire. He had to admit it. The first time he’d seen her, working professionally, a competent, brisk doctor, tired and frustrated with both him and his arrogant great-uncle, there’d been a frisson of something he’d struggled to understand.
Or maybe he did understand it. Maybe it was a feeling as old as time itself.
This was a no-frills woman, normally in shorts and T-shirt, now in a sliver of a bikini, with nothing to hide her essential essence. A woman who said what she thought. A woman who...
Who...what? He didn’t know. He hardly knew her at all, he conceded, but he knew her enough to realise there were barriers that meant she kept herself to herself—that this wedding was purely business.
And this day, this wedding, had cemented that. Yes, they’d made vows, but he had enough intuition to sense that it wasn’t Jodie making the vows. It was a front, a carefully orchestrated defence, a way of keeping herself apart.
But now... One sea creature brushing her leg...
No. It was more than that, much more. The culmination of what?
The straw that broke the camel’s back? The analogy drifted across his thoughts. Was that what it was? A slow build of desire that culminated in this?
It was surely like that for him—only this was no straw. He too had built barriers—he’d had to. All his life, there’d been so much need. Even as a kid he’d had it instilled into him. You can do good, Seb. We can do good. But most of that good had been done by holding himself apart. Not needing his parents. Taking a back seat to their desire to do good.
He remembered getting appendicitis as a child, when his parents were about to leave on field work. He’d been handed over to another doctor on the team. ‘Aaden will look after you, mate. We’ll radio in tonight to see how you are, but you’ll be fine.’
There’d been weird Christmases, carefully orchestrated, always in Al Delebe, where he’d been showered with gifts from his parents, so many gifts. And then, after a morning playing feverishly because he knew what would happen, there’d always been a serious talk with his parents. They’d used his over-the-top Christmas as a teaching tool.
‘Seb, you have so much, and there are so many kids in the camp here, sitting with nothing while their parents wait for treatment. But it’s your decision...’
Was it really his decision? Maybe it had been, but in the process, he’d learned about things being taken away.
Even his parents. He remembered one of the doctors in Al Delebe talking to him after his parents’ death. ‘You must be proud, Seb. They gave their all.’
So he got it, Jodie’s barriers. They were rational, expected, to be encouraged. This fantasy wedding had been sensible. The plans for living with her, the organisation of his life, they too made sense.
This swim, though, had been a bad idea, fatigue, the emotions of the day leaving them open to...
Open to his bride being in his arms, him carrying her out of the water, feeling the warmth, the delicious curving of her body against his wet chest, the way she’d shuddered and then clung. The way he’d set her down and she’d looked up at him. The straw that broke the camel’s back? The chink in both of their armour.
But, armour or not, it no longer mattered—it could no longer matter. For now, their defences had dissolved. She’d looked at him for that long, considering moment—and then she’d smiled and raised herself to meet his kiss.
And then there was only this night. This moment. This woman.
The kiss... Its power...
He was lost.
Or maybe he wasn’t lost. Maybe this was where he was meant to be. This perfect place, this wonderful woman. His bride.
And for a moment he let himself think, he let himself believe...
Had he learned nothing? All those Christmases...
But they were in the past, gone. Here, there was only Jodie, the feel of her, the taste, the way she was moulding to his body, her breasts against his chest, her arms holding him, claiming...her man?
His bride.
This was no fantasy bride, he thought as he held her close, as he savoured the feel and taste of her, as the last of those damned defences crumbled to nothing. The glorious golden vision of a bride who’d made vows beside him this day had been unreal and of no account. This was the real Jodie in his arms right now.
This was...his true bride?
CHAPTER NINE
THEY WOKE SPOONED against each other in Jodie’s big bed. There’d been no choice between rooms. Seb had furnished his with a single bed so he could fit a desk and filing cabinets into the room, setting it up so he could continue life as he knew it.
Only somehow life had changed.
It had been a real wedding night. Somehow, they’d made it home, laughing, stumbling, holding each other, but each sure of what lay ahead.
‘Jodie, do you really...?’ he remembered asking. He’d had to ask, but as they’d reached the house she’d turned within his hold and kissed him again, long, languorous, the heat within building to unbearable limits.
‘I’m no virgin bride, Seb Cantrell,’ she’d breathed. ‘Rational or not, right now, I want you and I know what I’m doing. So...you?’
There’d been no need for him to answer, and now he lay with Jodie spooned against his chest, skin against skin. He could feel her heartbeat. He could almost taste the salt of her. Wisps of her hair were lying across his shoulders and he felt...
She stirred and suddenly he was remembering those Christmases. The memories were dumb, outdated, something to be forgotten, but instinctively his arm tightened around her.
To have and to hold... That had been in the wedding vows, surely. For two glorious years...to have and to hold.
Her eyes were open. She twisted within his hold and she was gazing at him with an expression he couldn’t hope to understand.
‘You look like the cat that got the cream,’ she whispered, and he smiled and she smiled back.
‘So do you,’ he told her. ‘Mutual bliss?’
‘Yep.’ She stirred and stretched, a movement so sensual that he had to fight to stop himself pulling her back in to him. There were things that needed to be said. Surely there were.
Oh, but he wanted her.
‘Jodie...’
‘Yeah, I know,’ she whispered. ‘Barriers. This wasn’t supposed to happen, but there’s no law against it, is there? To have fun?’
‘Every night for the next two years?’ he managed, and she raised herself on one elbow and gazed down at him.
‘One night at a time,’ she murmured and then seemed to force herself back to reality. He could see her face tighten.
‘Seb, it can’t be a real marriage.’
‘Yeah, we’re playing with fire,’ he managed. ‘An affair where we’re held together for two years... What about things like...well, snoring?’
‘Did I snore?’ She sat up promptly and gazed down at him in shock. ‘Did I?’
‘No, but you might have. And so might I. Or we might discover we have different toothpaste-squeezing techniques. I’ve heard that’s driven thousands of couples apart.’
‘Seb, we’re not a couple.’
‘No,’ he agreed cautiously. Where was this going? He had no idea. Married and yet not? Where was the rulebook? But then he said, almost before he could help himself, ‘Jodie, is there any reason we can’t be?’
‘No. No!’
‘Because?’
‘Because I don’t know you.’
‘Fair enough.’ He lifted his hand and traced her cheekbone with his finger—and saw her shudder. There was trouble in her eyes, but he also saw the flash of desire. All he wanted right now was to take her in his arms again, to sink back into the wonders of the night before, but there were boundaries that obviously needed to be adjusted.
‘I’m a loner,’ Jodie said, and he nodded.
‘I can see that. So am I. We have no need to share toothpaste. But can two loners manage to have fun as well as get on with their lone lives? Lone when we need to be, together when we don’t.’
‘How can that possibly work?’
‘I have no idea,’ he told her. ‘But maybe we could try. And if it did end up that we wanted...’
‘Seb, I won’t have kids.’
There was a bald statement, seemingly coming from nowhere, and it shocked them both. The silence stretched on. Jodie lay down again, but this time she wasn’t touching him. They lay looking upward, thinking...what?
‘Jodie, if we wanted to have kids, I’d need to ask you to marry me,’ he said at last.
‘You already have.’ It was a whisper and she sounded...scared.
‘No. My great-uncle did. He coerced both of us into this situation.’ He took a breath, trying to think it through. ‘He was trying to change both our lives, and maybe he’s done it. But it was coercion, blackmail if you like, and we don’t have to agree to blackmail.’
She hesitated and then said, almost reluctantly, ‘I guess it was blackmail.’
‘So we don’t need to play his game. Yes, we’ve married, sort of. Yes, we’ve ended up in bed, which is probably what he intended. But the rest...’
‘He wants us to have kids.’
‘Wanted. Past tense.’ Her body was still touching him, but only just. A sliver of skin against his hip. Warm to touch. Enough to make a man want...’
But he had to take this slowly. Last night had been a time out of frame—part of the fantasy. Right now, he was in bed with a woman he sensed wanted to run.
