Mr. Temptation

Instinctively, she reached up and adjusted the veil, her heart hammering both from the effects of her erotic memories and from having the source of them show up completely out of the blue.

The bastard.

r /> “Very much like your halo,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “Except that’s not skewed, it’s totally invisible. Covered by a chauffeur’s hat. Fallen on hard times, have you? The touch-shit-and-turn-it-to-gold Gabe Harrington forced into chauffeuring brides to church? I hope it pays well.”

The words projected like bullets across the space that divided them, propelled by each thunderous beat of her heart and the desperate need to lash out.

She couldn’t see his mouth in the mirror, but his eyes crinkled at the corners and did ridiculous things to her stomach.

“Except, as you’ve no doubt worked out, you’re not going to the church, are you?”

She tried to think, fought to remain calm as the car sped off when the light turned green.

“I don’t know what the hell you think you’re doing.”

“Saving you.”

She glared back at his reflection in the mirror. “Kidnapping me, more like. Is that how you get your kicks now? What? Did the property investment business lose its charm? Or did you just run out of people to swindle.”

He had the audacity to laugh. Full out. It cut through her ribs like the sharpest blade. How could he find humour in what he’d done to her father? To her?

“Let’s just say I consider it my public duty to save a woman from doing something that can’t possibly be in her best interests.”

Indignation rose thick and fast. She was so sick of people—men—telling her what was in her best interests. “Oh, I get it. One week spent fucking me and you think you’re an expert on what’s good for me, on what I want?”

“I know you don’t want a man old enough to be your frigging grandfather.”

Arrogant bastard. “So what’s this theatrical display really about? And don’t give me any bullshit about it being in my best interests. As I recall, you don’t do other people’s best interests.”

“Maybe things change.”

“But you don’t. You’re not the type. If you must know, you’re keeping me from marrying a man who has given me more respect and consideration than someone like you would ever be capable of doing.”

“I don’t remember you complaining.”

“There wasn’t much in the way of opportunity. Seeing as you had me on my back every damn minute you could.”

“And again. I didn’t hear any complaints.”

The bastard was right. She couldn’t deny it. No man had ever made her feel the way Gabe had. She suspected no man ever would.

“I suggest you save yourself the trouble of having to bail yourself out of jail and get me back where I belong.”

The corners of his eyes crinkled all out now. “Exactly the point of the exercise.”

Shivers ran down her spine, not just because they were passing through the airport’s gates, but she guessed he planned to take her back to Monaco.

She glanced at the dashboard clock. Far too late now to get to the church and slide Oscar’s ring on her finger. She didn’t want to think about the consequences of that, nor did she particularly want to focus on the overwhelming feeling of relief that rippled through her. Not that she would let Gabe know that.

“The minute you stop this car and let me out, I’m going to have you arrested.”

* * *

Gabe might have laughed at the futility behind Maddie’s threat, but he’d caught the worry in her tone. He remembered how her voice changed when she was upset, how she tried so hard to stop the tremor that snatched her breath away.

He hated the cloak-and-dagger approach, but it was the only way. She wouldn’t have listened to reason, would have charged in with guns blazing if it meant helping her father. He wasn’t in possession of all the facts, although he knew enough to put two and two together. Maddie wasn’t the type to get herself hitched to a man she didn’t love.

So, until he did know all the facts, he intended to keep her from making one hell of a mistake.