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The Billionaire Bridegroom Page 17
Author: Emma Darcy

Shock and relief triggered a sharp rush of words. ‘You gave me a fright, leaving the door open.’

He paused, threw his hands out in apologetic appeal. ‘Sorry. I’m just home from a business meeting and I knew you’d be here any minute.’

He looked incredibly handsome, dressed in classic grey trousers and a grey and white striped shirt. Serena’s heart pitter-pattered in helpless array. She’d geared herself up to ignore his beefcake attributes, and here she was, faced with an even more impressive side of him, the polished businessman.

He gestured to the kitchen. ‘I was making a pot of coffee. Do you have time to have a cup with me?’

Temptation roared through her. He was so terribly attractive and there was nothing threatening in his expression, nothing more than a friendly inquiry. ‘Yes,’ tripped straight off her tongue. ‘That would be nice, thank you.’

No harm in being a bit friendly, she swiftly argued, stepping into the foyer, but closing the door behind her did raise her sense of vulnerability and she wondered if she was being hopelessly foolish.

Cleo tugged at the leash, barking to be freed. She unclipped it and the little terrier raced off to Nic who crouched down, grinning as he ruffled the silky hair. ‘Want to be admired, do you? All prettied up with your pink bow?’ He raised an amused gaze to Serena. ‘Do the male dogs get a blue bow?’

She couldn’t help smiling. ‘Yes, they do. And they tug like mad to get it off.’

Nic laughed and straightened up, maintaining a relaxed air as he led into the kitchen and poured the freshly brewed coffee into mugs. ‘Milk, cream, sugar?’

‘No. Straight black.’

‘Easily pleased.’

‘More practical. I’ve had many friends who never have milk or sugar on hand.’

‘Always dieting?’

‘It’s the curse of modern society that skinny is more desirable than a Rubenesque shape.’

‘Not too skinny. Anorexic women are a tragedy,’ he commented soberly, picking up the mugs. ‘Let’s sit on the terrace.’

‘I can’t stay long.’

‘I won’t hold you up.’

This assurance made it easy to follow him and she was enjoying the casual banter between them. They settled at a table overlooking the spa and pool. A sea breeze wafted through the sails that shaded them. Very pleasant, Serena thought. And seductive, caution whispered.

‘Have you studied art?’

The question completely threw her, coming out of the blue. Was he digging into her background again? Playing some snob card?

It spurred Serena into full frontal attack mode, eyes flashing a direct challenge. ‘Why ask me that?’

He shrugged, denying the question any importance. ‘I was just struck by what you said earlier about a Rubenesque figure. Most people would have contrasted skinny with overweight. It showed you were familiar with the kind of women Rubens always painted.’

He was quick to pick up anything, Serena warned herself, but there was no harm in answering this. ‘I did take art at school. I guess some of what I learnt stuck.’

‘Do you ever go to exhibitions at the art gallery?’

A probe into her social activities? Where was this conversation leading? Although wary now, she decided there was no danger in this particular subject.

‘When there’s something special on,’ she replied offhandedly. ‘Like the Monet one recently.’

He had seen it, as well, and they chatted on about the artist’s work—a really convivial conversation which Serena was reluctant to end. However she had no excuse to stay once she had finished her coffee, and while she had actually relaxed in his company for a while, there was no guarantee that would last long. Besides which, Michelle would be expecting her back at the salon.

‘Thanks for the coffee,’ she said, rising to her feet. ‘I have to go now.’

He returned a rueful smile. ‘Needs must. I’ll see you out.’

He stood to accompany her and Serena was once more swamped by how big and tall he was. She was acutely conscious of him as he walked at her side through the house. He hadn’t touched her at all—didn’t now—yet the memory of everything she’d felt of him last Monday night was flooding through her, stirring her own sexuality into a treacherous yearning.

‘Do you happen to be free on Saturday?’

The casual question instantly set her nerve ends twitching. Was this some kind of a trap? Had she just been lulled into enjoying his company, a paving of the way for another pounce?

‘If you could join me here for lunch…’ he went on, rolling out temptation again, on a much bigger scale.

‘No, I can’t,’ Serena forced herself to say. ‘My niece is riding in a gymkhana on Saturday and I promised to go and watch her.’

‘Well, a promise is a promise,’ he accepted without any hint of acrimony. ‘Where is the gymkhana being held?’

‘At Matcham Pony Club.’ Lucky it was the truth so she had facts at her fingertips to back up her reply to him.

‘I might go and watch for a while myself. Take Cleo out for a run. Introduce her to the world of horses.’

Serena’s heart started galloping so hard, it felt as though a whole herd of horses were trapped in her chest. She barely found wits enough to effect a graceful departure at the front door. Her mind kept pounding with one highly sizzling fact.

Nic Moretti had decided to chase her.

Chase her, corner her, bed her.

That was how it would go.

Somehow she had to stop this.

But did she want to? Did she really want to?

CHAPTER EIGHT

CUTTING up onions was not Serena’s favourite job. Her eyes were watering non-stop by the time she’d finished. Despite washing her hands and eyes at the sink in the clubhouse, the pungent smell was still getting to her as she carried the platter out to the barbecue where Michelle’s friend, Gavin Emory, was in charge of the sausage sizzle.

Blurred vision was to blame for the lack of any warning. Serena didn’t even look at the customer waiting at the barbecue. What focus she had was trained on handing the platter of onions over to Gavin as fast as possible.

‘Here we are!’ Gavin said cheerfully, tipping the lot onto the hotplate. ‘Won’t take long to cook.’

‘No hurry,’ came the good-natured reply.

Serena’s head instantly jerked towards the customer. No mistaking the timbre of that voice. Hearing it so unexpectedly was almost enough to cause a heart seizure.

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Emma Darcy's Novels
» Ruthlessly Bedded By The Italian Billionaire
» The Billionaire Bridegroom
» The Billionaire's Captive Bride
» The Italian's Stolen Bride
» The Marriage Decider
» The Marriage Risk
» An Offer She Can't Refuse
» The Master Player
» The Billionaire's Housekeeper Mistress (At His Service #3)
» The Playboy Boss's Chosen Bride
» Bought for Revenge, Bedded for Pleasure
» The Ramirez Bride (The Ramirez Brides #1)
» Ruthless Billionaire, Forbidden Baby
» The Secret Baby Revenge
» The Wedding(Billionaire Romance)
» The Wrong Mirror
» Traded to the Sheikh
» Wife in Public