Bought: One Bride

“Not…not in here, either,” she said in a sudden panic.

“Absolutely not,” Richard returned, and indicated the security camera up in the corner.

She stared at him as he went about inserting his security key-card, her eyes widening when he pressed the penthouse floor.

“You live in the penthouse?”

“One of them. There are two in this building.”

My God. A penthouse. She would never have thought Richard a penthouse type of man. It seemed he’d been right when he’d said earlier tonight that she didn’t know him very well.

The lift started to rise so smoothly she was barely aware of movement. Holly hadn’t taken much notice of her surrounds on the short drive here. She’d been too worked up with a distracting mixture of nerves and excitement.

In truth, she hadn’t needed to see where they were going. She already knew Richard had recently bought an apartment on a point at East Balmain, not far from the Diamonds. He’d told her so.

He hadn’t told her it was a penthouse, however.

Would a man planning to remarry buy a penthouse to live in? A penthouse was more of a bachelor playground, a place for girlfriends and mistresses, not wives. Good Lord, maybe Richard was planning to set her up as his mistress! Maybe he already had some other woman lined up to be his wife.

The lift eased to a supersmooth halt before the door whooshed open and Holly gasped. For straight ahead, across an expanse of shiny marble floor, was a huge window that had the most spectacular night-time view, with the bridge on the right and the skyscrapers of North Sydney straight ahead. As she walked towards it the harbour below came more into view, the reflection of lights dancing in the darkened waters.

“In here, Holly.”

She whirled to find that Richard had opened a door she hadn’t noticed. She saw then that there was another door in the wall opposite, clearly the entry to the second penthouse.

Holly walked into Richard’s penthouse, expecting one thing but being confronted with something totally different.

“Oh!” she said with surprise as she glanced around.

“What were you expecting? Black leather and bear rugs?”

“Something like that.”

“Are you disappointed?”

“Heavens, no. It’s…fantastic. Nothing like a penthouse at all. More like a holiday house,” she said as she walked slowly around the open-plan living areas, admiring the easy living layout and the relaxed furniture.

“I’ll give you a grand tour in the morning,” Richard said, and started coming towards her across the blue-and-yellow rug she was standing on. “For now, the only room I want to show you is my bedroom.”

All the breath zoomed from Holly’s lungs as he pulled her into his arms.

“Can I kiss you now?” he asked, his voice soft but his eyes hard. So was his body.

Holly was seized by a mad, mischievous moment. “What if I said no?”

His eyes made her shiver.

“Don’t tease me, Holly. I’m not in the mood for games.”

His mouth closed off any further conversation. His arms encircled her back, his hands settling at opposite ends of her spine, his huge palms keeping her pressed against the full length of him.

She’d known he was a big man. A powerful man. Now she felt his power, and his passion, his kiss going on and on and on. His head didn’t lift till she was dizzy from lack of air.

His sweeping her up into his arms was a welcome move. It saved her from falling. As he carried her from the living room down a long hallway she buried her face into his chest, trying desperately not to think, or worry.

Strangely, this time, his kiss hadn’t totally addled her brains. Maybe because she knew the moment of truth was at hand. The mind was a terrible thing. Cruel and merciless. And sometimes perverse.

By the time Richard carried her through an open doorway into what was obviously the master bedroom, the butterflies in Holly’s stomach had reached epidemic proportions. Her head lifted from his chest and darted nervously to the bed, which was huge, with a white cane headboard and a shiny blue satin quilt.

Holly took some comfort from the fact that it was at least a new bed. No way did she want to share some bed with Richard that Joanna had slept in. Which was pretty silly, really. What did it matter? Alanna was right. Jealousy was a curse.

But she couldn’t seem to help it. She was jealous of Richard’s love for his beautiful wife. And fearful that she could never measure up, either in bed or out.

He lowered her down, down onto the satin quilt, pressing light kisses to her mouth all the while, nothing like the wildly hungry kiss he’d given her in the living room. It seemed that, now he had her in his bedroom, he didn’t want to hurry. He wanted to savour the moment. Savour her.