A Contract for His Runaway Bride

A wounded look came into her blue eyes. He held her gaze for a pulsing moment. ‘Trust has to be earned once it’s been broken.’

‘I was never unfaithful to you. And I did bring back your damn engagement ring.’

She got into the passenger seat and swished the skirt of her dress out of the way, her expression stormy.

Lincoln closed the door of the car and walked around to the driver’s side. He slipped in beside her and pulled down his seatbelt, clipped it into place. He turned to look at her, but she had turned her head to look the other way.

‘Elodie, look at me.’

‘No.’

He reached out his hand and captured her small, neat chin, gently turned her to face him. He frowned at the shimmer of tears in her eyes. He blotted an escaping one with the pad of his thumb.

‘Tears?’

He couldn’t keep the surprise out of his voice. He had never seen her cry—not even when they’d had furious arguments with each other in the past. She’d always given as good as she got and never resorted to floods of tears.

Elodie batted his hand away, her expression churlish. ‘I’m not crying. It’s just a reaction to my new eyeshadow. I—I think I must be allergic to it or something.’

Lincoln brushed his bent knuckles across the creamy curve of her cheek. He couldn’t stop his gaze from drifting to the plump contours of her mouth.

‘Hey...’

His voice came out low and deep and husky, and her shimmering eyes crept up to meet his. Something in his chest came loose, like a tight knot unravelling. He brushed the pad of his thumb over the cushion of her lower lip, back and forth, watching as her pupils dilated and her lips softly parted. He leaned closer and lowered his mouth to hers in a feather-light kiss. It was a mere brush of his lips across her soft ones, but it sent a shockwave of ferocious lust through his body.

He eased back to gaze into her eyes before he was tempted to take the kiss deeper. ‘Let’s see if we can get through the rest of today without fighting, hmm?’

She brushed at her eyes with an impatient flick of her hand. ‘Good luck with that.’

***

Their meeting with his lawyer was held in a smart office a few blocks from where they were to be married. There were documents to read and papers to sign, but Elodie found it almost impossible to concentrate. Her lips were still tingling from Lincoln’s brief kiss in the car, and her emotions were see-sawing.

She couldn’t remember the last time she had shed tears. She didn’t do emotional displays—she had taught herself not to—but for some reason Lincoln’s lack of trust in her had stung far more bitterly than it should. So what if he didn’t believe her about the stupid engagement ring? She knew the truth, even if he didn’t believe it.

How could two people be so unsuited to marry? They were enemies, not lovers. There was so much residual angst between them and yet they were about to become man and wife. Lincoln had called a truce, but how long would that last?

A short time later they arrived at the register office. Lincoln had organised two employees from his office to act as witnesses.

The ceremony was conducted with brisk efficiency and zero sentimentality. Had that been Lincoln’s plan? To make this ceremony as different as it could possibly be from their wedding day seven years ago? There were no flowers, no angelic-sounding choir, no bridesmaids, no flower girl and impish little ring bearer. Just two people she had never met before, witnessing what was supposed to be the happiest day of one’s life.

‘You may now kiss the bride.’

Elodie was jolted out of her reverie when Lincoln drew her closer. His hands framed her face and his mouth came down to hers in a kiss that totally ambushed her senses.

His kiss was gentle, and yet passionate, tender and yet determined, and she was swept away on a rushing tide of longing. She forgot where they were...was not conscious of anything but the exquisite sensation of his lips moving sensually on hers. Her lips remembered every contour of his mouth, every movement of his lips as they stirred her senses into rapture.

She opened her mouth under the delicious pressure of his, and while he didn’t deepen the kiss, it was no less thrilling. In fact, it intensified the experience, heightening all her senses to every subtle movement and sensation. The soft press of his lips on hers, the intake of his breath, the audible gasp of hers, the tilt of his head as he changed position, the slight rasp of his masculine skin against her soft feminine skin, the splay of his fingers as he cradled her face in his hands.

It was a kiss that stirred sleeping feelings into wakefulness—feelings Elodie had thought would never come back to life. Feelings she didn’t want to come back to life because they threatened to take over her life and her dreams and aspirations.

That could not happen.

It would not happen.

She would not let it happen.

The repeated clicking of a camera shutter was the cue Elodie needed to pull away. She kept her features in a mask of pretend happiness for the photographer, knowing that every photo would be crucially important to achieving her goal.

Lincoln put his arm around her waist and led her outside, where some paparazzi were waiting. ‘This shouldn’t take too long,’ he said in an undertone. ‘Leave the talking to me.’

Elodie glanced up at him with a frown. ‘Why? I can speak for myself. I handle the media all the time. Besides, I want to make the most of the attention on us. It will put a spotlight on my new label like nothing else could.’

His lips tightened momentarily, as if he was going to argue the point with her, but then he gave a sigh. ‘Fine, but don’t overplay it.’

One of the journalists pressed forward with a recording device. ‘Congratulations to you both. Can you tell us how you got back together?’

Elodie beamed at the journalist and leaned her head lovingly on Lincoln’s broad shoulder. ‘We realised we’d never fallen out of love and decided to get married as soon as we could.’

‘We’re happy to be together again,’ Lincoln said, his arm around her waist tightening. He led her down a series of steps to the footpath, with the group of journalists moving backwards in order to keep snapping pictures.

‘Lincoln, congratulations on winning back your runaway bride. Does this mean we’ll be hearing the patter of tiny feet any time soon?’

‘We haven’t made any plans in that regard,’ Lincoln said with a cool smile. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse us, we’re looking forward to some time alone to celebrate our marriage.’