The Tycoon's Forced Bride

There really must be something wrong with her, Ava thought, looking longingly towards the hall and the front door, when all she wanted to do was run away rather than give herself over to a proper massage. “This isn’t necessary. I’m really not used to much fuss.”

“Exactly. Which is why Mr. McKenzie wants you to be fussed over. He insists you be pampered and spoiled and treated like royalty, and that is just what I intend to do.”

“I’ve got scars.”

“My early training was at a rehabilitation hospital in Zurich. Many of those I worked with were paralyzed. I have seen it all, trust me.”

Ava wasn’t very good at trusting anyone anymore, but once on the massage table Ava had to admit that Genevieve was very good at what she did. Ava had forgotten the bliss of a good massage. There was power in touch, power in being treated gently, kindly, and Ava’s tension and anxiety melted as Genevieve kneaded, massaged, and applied fragrant oils, followed by cool soothing towels and lotions.

Several hours later, still bundled in the plush robe but with her skin glowing, hair shampooed and blow-dried, and nails freshly polished, Ava faced a huge walk-in closet filled with clothes she’d never seen before.

“Mr. McKenzie had them made for you,” Genevieve explained, flicking on the closet light. “They’re all top designers, and rather fun clothes, don’t you think?”

Fun? How about impractical? Silk pants, skimpy beaded tops, short skirts, long slim skirts, sheer chiffon blouses that showed far too much of everything.

“I think they’re a bit short on fabric,” Ava said, holding up a rich amethyst silk camisole that was also nearly backless and a narrow long skirt with a thigh-high slit.

“You’ve an amazing figure. Might as well show it off. Besides, there’s no one here to see but Mr. McKenzie.”

Ava’s stomach did a wild dive. Precisely her worry. She wasn’t the same woman she’d been before the accident. She didn’t have her old grace, lacked the fluid gestures and easy elegance that had come from years of dance training in Buenos Aires. She might not need the walker or cane, but she was far from sexy.

Ava returned the purple silk outfit to the hanger. “I think something more conservative. Black. High neck.”

Genevieve shook her head. “You won’t find anything like that here. Mr. McKenzie made sure of that. But this shade of purple will look fantastic on you. Let’s get you dressed.”

It was almost dusk when Genevieve led Ava back down the long, garden path, from one flagstone path to another. The garden was lit with dozens of colorful, Chinese lanterns, making the garden look like a little jewel box.

They reached a stone patio and in the center was a dark red gondola. Another member of Malcolm’s staff stood at attention. “Your carriage,” Geneieve said with a smile. “Mr. McKenzie is waiting for you down below.”

*

The gondola ride took several minutes. It was definitely not a fast trip down the hillside, but with the sun beginning to set, it was beautiful. As they neared the beach, she spotted a white cabana and dozens of candles and tiki torches providing flickering light.

Colm was indeed waiting for her at the bottom. She could see him as the gondola approached, his shadow stretching long on the sand, silhouetted by the setting of the red-gold sun.

Her stomach did a wild somersault and she pressed a hand to her belly, her nerves getting the better of her.

He opened the door to the gondola when it came to a stop and then lifted her onto the still warm sand. “You look amazing,” he said, leaving his hands on her waist.

She could feel the heat of his skin against hers through her thin, silk camisole. It was exciting and yet overwhelming. Being with Colm was overwhelming. Everything here in St. Barts was so new, and there were so many experiences and she couldn’t catalogue them and remember the details and she knew she wouldn’t remember everything tomorrow.

She’d remember Colm, of course. But she might not remember this…the gondola ride, the sunset, the seductive warmth of his hands against her waist.

“Don’t worry so much,” he said, kissing her forehead.

“I’m scared.”

“Why?”

“This is all so magical and you’ve gone to so much work to make it special but I might not remember any of it tomorrow. I won’t remember how hard you’ve worked to make me comfortable, to help me relax.”

“You don’t have to remember that.”

“But I do.”

“No. You don’t. You just have to enjoy yourself tonight. Live now. Be happy now. We’ll worry about tomorrow, tomorrow.”

Tears started to Ava’s eyes. She felt so much just then, so many intense emotions. She desperately wanted to be the woman Colm deserved. He was a good man, and so very good to her. Loyal, passionate, fiercely protective. “I just want to remember the happy things…the good things. You know how my memory is…you know how fleeting the present is.”

“Then we will become clever at capturing the good things. We will find ways to help you remember your life and all that which is hopeful and happy.”

“How?”

“We will look for sunsets every night. We will celebrate life and our blessings. We will take photos and write down the funny things and the happy moments and we will make sure to live, really live. We can do that.”

“The camera is probably a good idea. But I’m sorry you have to work so hard for me. I hate that you have to be clever just to help me remember. So much effort…so much trouble.”

“It’s not trouble. I’ve been looking forward to this all afternoon and the wait was worth it. You look amazing.” And then he smiled, a very slow, sexy smile that made her knees knock and belly flip and for a split-second she felt absolutely gorgeous. “How do you feel? Good?”

“Very good. Genevieve was pretty sensational. I don’t think I’ve ever had a better massage.”

“I could give you a better one—”

“No. You’d get distracted by the girl bits and end up massaging the wrong parts.”

He laughed. “You would have enjoyed it, though.”

“Yes, but I don’t know how relaxing it would have been.”

“Well, you have would been relaxed after.”

“Hmm.” But she was smiling as she blushed. “We seem to discuss sex a lot.”

“That’s because we enjoyed sex a lot.” He shot her a swift glance as he took her arm to lead her across the sand to the cabana. “Or do you not remember?”

“No, I do remember that. Maybe that’s what makes me nervous. It seems as if we were just interested in the physical aspect of a relationship.” She was grateful for his arm as the thick, soft sand gave way beneath each foot, making it difficult to keep her balance. “Am I wrong?”

“Not wrong.” He walked her to a low couch, and made sure she was sitting comfortably before turning to open the champagne chilling on ice. “Does that bother you? That we were so physical?”

Ava blushed, her skin growing hot all over. She shifted one of the soft silk pillows, giving herself more room. “I just worry that it might not be enough. Or that it isn’t enough…and I don’t remember.”

He didn’t immediately reply, focusing instead on easing the cork from the green bottle. The cork popped and he filled one flute, and then the other.

“We were good together,” he said simply, handing her a flute. “We enjoyed each other. I’m not sure either of us analyzed it.” He faced her, big, imposing. So very self-assured.