A Contract for His Runaway Bride

‘Sit.’ His one-word command was as sharp and implacable as the steely don’t-mess-with-me glint in his eyes.

Elodie raised her chin, a frisson skittering over her flesh at the combative energy firing between them like high-voltage electricity. Fighting with Lincoln had formed a large part of their previous relationship. Their strong wills had often clashed and their passionate fights had nearly always been resolved in bed. The thought of this fight ending that way made her heart race and her pulse skyrocket.

‘Just try and make me.’

She injected her tone with ice-cold disdain to counter the fiery heat pooling between her legs. Only Lincoln Lancaster could have this effect on her, and it made her furious to think he still had the power to make her feel things she didn’t want to feel. Dangerous feelings. Overwhelming feelings. Feelings she couldn’t control.

One side of his mouth came up in a half-smile, and the slow burn of his gaze sent tingles cascading down the length of her spine to pool in a ball of molten heat in her core.

‘Tempting as that is, right now, I want to discuss a proposal with you.’

‘A proposal?’ She unclenched her fists and gave a bark of scathing laughter. ‘There’s nothing you could ever propose to me that I would find irresistible.’

There was a long beat of silence. A silence so weighted, so intense, it sent goosebumps popping up along the skin of her arms.

His unreadable eyes held hers in a lock that made her blood tick with excitement. It was an excitement she wished she could quell, but it seemed her body had a mind of its own when it came to Lincoln.

And somehow, she suspected he knew it.

Lincoln came around to perch on the corner of his desk, close enough to her for her to catch a tantalising whiff of his aftershave. The citrus notes were fresh and clean, the base notes a little more complex, reminding her of the rich, earthy scent of a densely wooded forest after rain. His eyes were an unusual mix of green and blue—a bottomless ocean with flashes of kelp and green sea glass swirling in their unreachable depths. She couldn’t drag her eyes away from the dark shadow of regrowth peppering his jaw. How many times had she run her fingers over that prickly stubble? How many times had she felt its sexy rasp on the sensitive skin of her inner thighs?

Her gaze drifted to his mouth and her stomach bottomed out. Suddenly she found it hard to breathe. Those sensually curved lips had explored every inch of her body, stirred her into cataclysmic pleasure time and time again. She had never had a more exciting lover than Lincoln Lancaster. His touch had set fire to her body, making it erupt into roaring flames of need only he could assuage. Every lover since—not that there had been many—had been a bitter disappointment. It was as if Lincoln had ruined her for anyone else. No one could ignite her flesh like he had. No one could make her feel the things he made her feel. It seemed her body was programmed to respond to him and him alone.

‘How about we start again?’ His voice had a disarmingly gentle note, but his gaze was still unwavering on hers. ‘You’re looking good, Elodie.’

The pitch of his voice went down half a semitone to a deep burr that put her resolve to resist him in Critical Care. He was impossible to resist when he laid on the charm.

Elodie swallowed the choking lump of her pride, intrigued by his change of tactic. Intrigued by why he had set up this meeting under a false name and in a high-rise office tower that was on the other side of town from his London base. Intrigued to find out exactly what he was proposing. Office renovations aside, surely he could have contacted her without the need for pretence?

‘Thank you.’ She glanced behind her to locate the chair and sat—not because she wanted to do as he had commanded earlier, but because right then her legs were feeling decidedly unsteady. She positioned her leather purse on her lap, her fingers absently fidgeting with the silver clasp. ‘You said you had something to discuss with me? A proposal?’

Lincoln rose from his perch on the edge of the desk and went back to sit in his office chair. He rolled the chair forward and then rested one of his forearms on the desk. His other hand reached for a sheaf of papers.

‘A business proposal.’ His gleaming eyes met hers and he added, ‘You weren’t expecting any other type of proposal, were you?’

Elodie schooled her features into cool impassivity. ‘I can’t imagine you’d be interested in repeating past mistakes.’

An inscrutable smile tilted one side of his mouth. ‘I hear you’re interested in some financial backing for your own evening wear label.’ He drummed his fingers on the paperwork beneath his hand. ‘Are you interested in hearing my terms?’

Elodie ran the tip of her tongue over her lips, aware of another moth-like flicker of excitement in her blood. Could this be her chance to fulfil her dream at last? She had never aspired to be a lingerie model, but she had played the role with aplomb. Smart, successful, sassy, sophisticated and sexy were the five words to describe her brand. A brand she had never intended adopting in the first place but had somehow drifted into. Lincoln was offering her an escape route—but he’d mentioned terms. What would they be? Dared she even ask? He was one of the most successful self-made businessmen in the country. He turned around ailing businesses within a year or two for a sizeable profit. Did he see her venture as a sure bet?

‘You want to finance me? But...but why?’

He shrugged one broad shoulder, his expression as unreadable as a mask. ‘I never allow emotions to get in the way of a good business deal.’

Did that mean he was confident she could succeed? How strange that he of all people believed in her potential. ‘You think I can be successful?’

His gaze was suddenly laser-pointer-direct. ‘Do you?’

‘I...’ Elodie chewed at the inside of her mouth and lowered her gaze from the penetrating heat of his. ‘I think so.’

‘Not good enough. You have to believe in yourself or no one else will.’

The chiding edge to his tone made her straighten her back in her chair. She brought her gaze back to his. ‘I do believe in myself. I’ve wanted to get out of modelling for a while now. I want to prove I have more to offer the world than my looks.’

‘A wishbone and a backbone are two different things. How much do you want it?’

She disguised a tiny swallow. ‘More than anything.’

One dark eyebrow lifted over his mercurial gaze. ‘Are you sure about that?’

Elodie lifted her chin, locking her gaze on his. ‘Positive.’

Lincoln pushed the paperwork across the desk to her. ‘Good. Because in here are my terms. You can read them at your leisure, but I can summarise them for you here and now if you like.’

Elodie laid her purse on the floor and took the sheaf of documents, but she knew it would take her ages to read through it carefully due to her dyslexia. And so did he. Not that he had ever made an issue of her learning problems in the past—if anything he had been surprisingly accommodating and understanding. It was another way he had charmed her into thinking he cared about her for more than her looks—more fool her.

‘Please do.’

He leaned back in his chair, one forearm still resting on his desk. His posture was casual—almost too casual, given the searing intensity of his gaze. ‘I’ll put forward the necessary finance for you to launch your label.’

He named a sum that made her perfectly groomed eyebrows almost fly off her face. She knew he was wealthy, but surely that was a ridiculous amount of money to be offering her—especially given the way their relationship had ended.

Elodie rapid-blinked, her heart thumping like a hard fist against her ribcage. Ba-boom. Ba-boom. Ba-boom. ‘But why would you want to do that?’

He held up a hand like a stop sign, his expression difficult to read. ‘Allow me to state my terms without interruption.’ He lowered his hand to the desk and continued. ‘The money is yours if you’ll agree to be my wife for six months.’

Elodie stared at him with her mind reeling, her pulse racing, her stomach freefalling. His wife? Was he joking? Was this some sort of candid camera prank? And why only six months? Wasn’t a marriage meant to be for ever?

The money was more than enough to launch her label. Along with her own savings, the money would mean she would be able employ the necessary staff to help her achieve her dream. But to become his wife? To live with him, sleep with him, spend every day with him...? Risk the chance of falling in love with him?