Highly Unsuitable. Кейт Хьюит
Tom Cranshaw.’ Nicholas knew of her brother-in-law’s political aspirations. His bland comment was a statement of fact, nothing more. ‘What do they have to do with keeping things secret until our marriage?’
‘My sister is all I have in the way of family. I want to tell her about this face to face.’ I’ll never breathe a word of it to her at all, and I’m sorry for letting you believe otherwise, but I have no choice. ‘It would upset me if she read it in the newspapers, or heard it some other impersonal way.’
‘Why not simply phone her?’ His stark tone left no room for argument. ‘Give her the news, and we can get on with our plans without worrying about secrecy.’
‘Not good enough.’ She injected an equal measure of determination into her answer. ‘It has to be face to face. That’s it.’
After what seemed interminable minutes, but was probably only seconds, he spoke. ‘How long will she be gone?’
‘As of today?’ The section of Claire’s brain labelled Calendar materialised on the insides of her eyelids. ‘Three and a half months.’ Two weeks after the final blackmail payment had to be made. Given Claire’s predicament, the time-frame was convenient. ‘I want my sister at my wedding. I don’t want to marry until after she gets back, and I’m determined to tell her my news in person.’
‘All right. We keep things quiet. But the moment your sister returns to Australia you tell her, and we go ahead with our small, discreet wedding on the date we’ve agreed.’ He didn’t seem particularly pleased, but nor did he seem aggravated beyond measure. ‘In the end it makes little difference how we go about it, I suppose, as long as the marriage goes ahead.’
‘Good. Thank you.’ Claire let out a single, shuddering breath. She was a long way from being out of the woods, but she could handle this. Once her nerves stopped jumping and the panic subsided and she could use her lungs properly again….
It was doable. Wasn’t it?
‘We’ll sign the Notice of Intended Marriage and other necessary papers today.’ Nicholas gestured for Claire to return to the desk.
Maybe if she were seated again he would be able to ignore the way the navy skirt and soft cream blouse clung lovingly to every curve and indent of her shapely figure. Then again—his gaze skimmed over her once more—maybe not.
The sooner he had this matter signed and sealed, the better. He didn’t like loose ends, and wanting Claire Dalgliesh had definitely turned into a loose end since he had decided he would like her as his marriage partner. At times it was all he could do to banish thoughts of her from his mind.
‘You really were sure of me, weren’t you?’ Her husky voice slid through his senses, causing a tightening in his gut, a tautening of muscles as his body reacted to that unconscious sexiness.
From the top of her deep gold hair to the toes of her slender, tanned feet she exuded her own brand of sensual appeal—the more effective because it appeared to be completely unconscious. Her brown eyes held untapped secrets that called a challenge to him.
He wanted to see her in the heat of passion, to see what those rich orbs would reflect then. Desire? Lust? The thought of her nails raking his back, of her moaning his name slid through his mind, and he drew a sharp, controlling breath.
‘Sure of you?’ Maybe. ‘What I’m sure of, Claire, is that this is right.’
Something deep down told him that. He convinced himself it was the same instinct that had made him a success and kept him that way in business.
Claire slid into the seat across the desk from him, crossed her long legs, and reached for the documents. Her hands were shaking, he noted. ‘Don’t we need a marriage celebrant or a justice of the peace present for something like this?’
‘We do.’ He pressed a button on his phone system. ‘Would you send the Reverend up, please?’
‘You already had him here? How long…’ She cleared her throat as she flicked through the prepared sheets. ‘How long does it take to give notice that you plan to marry?’
‘A month and a day.’ He had investigated this marriage idea from all angles before he approached her. Could tell her anything she wanted to know about it. He couldn’t explain his sense of eager expectation, though, other than to put it down to the kind of feeling he got when he was approaching the closure of a particularly important deal. ‘If I had to I could get it back to a week, or even a day.’
Claire looked first shocked, then nervous. ‘Oh.’
Nicholas spotted movement beyond the door, and rose swiftly to usher the middle-aged cleric into the room. ‘Thank you for waiting, Reverend. We’re set to go ahead now.’
He introduced the man, then indicated the top form in front of Claire. ‘Can you type your details straight in, Claire? We’ll take care of the rest in a moment.’
‘Yes, of course.’
It was a short time only before she returned to them.
Once the details were covered, and a time agreed for the ceremony, the Reverend stood to take his leave. Nicholas wasn’t interested in bandying pleasantries now that their business was over, and the man seemed to sense that.
‘If you have any questions, or would like to discuss anything further,’ the Reverend said, ‘I’m more than willing to make myself available. Otherwise, please contact me when you’re ready to talk about the style of marriage service, and so on.’
After the Reverend had left, Claire turned to Nicholas. Her smile seemed forced. ‘What church is he from? I would have thought most places would be booked up at least a year in advance.’
He named the denomination, and shrugged. ‘I give financial support to the charitable arm of that particular organisation. I didn’t ask about their booking schedule, but obviously our request wasn’t a problem for him. I’ve booked the church, however, if you don’t want to marry there, we can move it to a court house.’
The thought of marrying her in that clinical environment bothered him. He shook the feeling off. Of course it made no difference.
‘Oh, no. The church is fine. I have…no objection to traditional weddings.’ She glanced at her desk. ‘Was there anything else before I get back to work?’
‘Lunch with the Forresters at one p.m. And buzz through to John Greaves and tell him I want his progress report on the Campbell job right away.’ A sense of relief crept through him. ‘Choose a nice place for lunch with the Forresters,’ he added. ‘Then phone the wife to line it up. They’ll be en route somewhere up the coast at this moment, in their yacht, but you have her cellphone number on file. If they’re running late, we’ll do dinner tonight instead.’
‘I’ll get right on it.’ She turned to leave, giving him a glorious view of the stretch of her skirt across the trim expanse of her buttocks as she moved.
‘Oh, and Claire?’
‘Yes?’
‘I’ll want you with me. So organise a temp from downstairs to cover in your absence, and to help with any catching up later.’
He smiled—pleased with her, pleased with his plans. Pleased that from now on Claire would be spending a great deal more of her time in his company. It would be…fun. He frowned a little, then gave himself a mental shake.
‘In fact, put someone on standby to help out whenever we want for the rest of the week. I may decide to take you out with me at other times as well.’
She inclined her head. ‘As you wish.’
He paced towards her. For a moment, awareness and anticipation were revealed clearly on her face. She expected him to kiss her, and her gaze softened, igniting a responding something in him.
Nicholas pushed the reaction down. Did she want him to seal their marriage agreement in the traditional way? In the way romantics