The Bride Fonseca Needs

Max sat back, looking dangerous and sexy, jaw dark with stubble. ‘What happened, Darcy?’

Darcy shot a look at the partition and back again, her cheeks growing hot. ‘You know very well what happened. We crossed the line.’

‘We almost made love on my desk.’

Darcy felt hotter. ‘But we didn’t.’ Thank God. ‘We came to our senses.’ She waved a hand. ‘What I’m trying to say is that even now we are embarking on this ridiculous charade—’

‘That I’ll be paying you handsomely for...’ Max pointed out, immediately making Darcy’s irritation levels rise.

‘And for which you’ll be earning your place among the financial giants of the world,’ she lashed back.

Max’s jaw clenched. ‘Touché.’

Darcy had leaned forward in her agitation but she pulled back now, forcing herself to stay calm. ‘What I’m saying is that this marriage is going to be fake in every sense of the word. If you want anything physical then I’m sure you can get it from the legion of women in your little black book.’

Max folded his arms and regarded her. ‘There’s something incredibly ironic about the fact that I always swore I’d never enter into the state of matrimony and yet now I find myself on the brink of such a situation—’

‘Caused by you,’ Darcy flung at him.

That made him dip his head in acknowledgement before he continued, ‘I find myself with a wife who won’t sleep with me. I would never have anticipated that as a problem to be surmounted.’

‘No,?

? Darcy said waspishly. ‘I don’t imagine you would have. Like I said—call someone else to provide you with any extra-curricular services you might require. I’m sure you can be discreet.’ She looked at him, wondering just why this conversation was making her so angry. ‘I would just avoid a three-in-a-bed romp—that won’t endear you to Montgomery if it gets out like the last one did.’

Max made an irritated sound. ‘For what it’s worth that was a PR stunt for charity that ended up being leaked before we could explain it, so it never got used. You can’t seriously think I’d be so crass?’

Darcy looked at him and cursed him. He looked positively angelic. Wrapped up in a demon. And of course he wouldn’t be so crass. Max oozed sophistication. She should have known better. And now she’d revealed that she’d been keeping an eye on his exploits. Damn him.

She looked away. ‘Whatever, Max—just don’t make me look like a fool.’

‘The same goes for you, you know,’ came the softly delivered response.

Darcy looked at him and for a moment all she could see was the way Max had looked at her the other night, when she’d pulled back from his embrace, cheeks flushed, eyes glittering dangerously. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said, as frigidly as she could, ‘I won’t have a problem curbing my urges.’

Max had muttered something she couldn’t catch—something like We’ll see about that—just as the car had pulled up outside the small plane.

Darcy’s attention came back to the plane. Max was staring out of his window. Not goading her or looking at her with those mesmerising eyes. She remembered what he’d told her last night and how she’d wanted to leave his apartment—get away before he might see something on her face or in her expression. Empathy. A treacherous desire to help him achieve what he wanted.

‘I didn’t know your brother was a twin.’

Max turned his head slowly and looked at her. ‘It’s not really common knowledge.’

‘I saw pictures of him...the wedding. You’re not identical?’

Max shook his head and smiled, but it was hard. ‘I’m prettier than my brother.’ His self-mocking expression was anything but pretty. It was utterly masculine, making a mockery of ‘pretty’. Especially with that scar running from his temple to his jaw.

Darcy felt breathless. ‘You said you’re closer now?’

Max raised a brow. ‘Did I?’

‘Last night...you said you were working with him.’

Max’s mouth tightened. ‘For a cause—not because we sit up at night drinking cocoa and reminiscing about our childhood experiences.’

Darcy rolled her eyes at his sarcastic response just as the plane banked. She took the opportunity to escape Max’s gaze and looked out to see Paris laid out in all its glory, the distinctive Eiffel Tower glinting in the distance. Fine. Obviously Max wasn’t about to launch into any more confessionals. He’d probably already told her far more than he wanted to.

And she wasn’t curious. Not at all.