Marriage by Deception by Sara Craven

dangerous question, but somehow she couldn’t resist it.
    ‘Perhaps—to discover everything there is to know.’ His voice was soft, almost reflective. ‘To explore you—heart, mind—and body.’
    A shiver went through her, trembling along her senses, as if they were already naked together. As if his hands—his mouth—were touching her—possessing her. His body moving over hers in total mastery.
    From somewhere she found the self-command to smile at him—a cool, even cynical curl of the mouth.
    ‘A little over-ambitious for me, I’m afraid.’
    ‘Fine.’ His own grin was wickedly appreciative. ‘Then I’ll settle for meeting for a drink tonight instead.’
    ‘Perhaps I already have a date this evening.’
    ‘Then we’ll fix it for some other time, when you’re free. I can wait.’
    ‘You don’t give up, do you?’
    ‘That,’ he said, ‘rather depends on my level of commitment.’
    ‘And if I say—no?’
    He shrugged. ‘Then I’ll just have to hang around here in the street, looking soulful and waiting for your heart to soften. The neighbours will love it,’ he added,glancing round. ‘We’re attracting a fair measure of attention already. Curtains are twitching.’
    She saw with annoyance that he was right. She said curtly, ‘I could always take action against you for harassment.’
    ‘But you were the one who contacted me in the first place,’ he reminded her. ‘And you came to meet me looking like a million dollars, as the head waiter at Marcellino’s will confirm.’
    ‘Which is more than can be said for you,’ she countered waspishly.
    But the jibe failed to needle him. Instead, he burst out laughing. ‘What can I say? Anyway, no one would blame me for being smitten and trying again. I really don’t think your harassment ploy would work—so why don’t you give in gracefully?’
    His voice deepened to a persuasive drawl. ‘Come out with me, Janie, and I’ll wear a wig—use contact lenses—start buying my clothes in Bond Street. See how desperate I am to reverse your bad impression of me?’
    To her intense irritation she found she wanted to laugh too, and bit down hard on her lip.
    She said, ‘Mr Alexander…’
    ‘Sam,’ he corrected, quite gently. ‘Say it for me—please?’
    ‘Sam.’ She heard the huskiness in her voice and took a deep, steadying breath. ‘If we have this one drink, will you guarantee then to leave me alone?’
    ‘No,’ he said. ‘But I promise I’ll leave the ultimate decision in the matter entirely to you. And that I’ll accept your ruling.’
    ‘Very well,’ she said. ‘There’s a wine bar a coupleof streets away called The Forlorn Hope. I’ll see you there at eight.’
    ‘Agreed.’ His mouth twisted slightly. ‘And I’ll try not to read too much into your choice of venue. Until eight, then.’
    ‘I’ll be counting the moments,’ she tossed after him acidly.
    Sam swung back. Across the expanse of pavement, their glances met—clashed with the speed of fencing foils.
    ‘No,’ he said, quite softly. ‘But one day—or night—very soon, you will. And there’s another promise.’
    She watched him go, aware that her breathing had quickened to danger level.
    She thought, I want—I need him out of my life. Permanently. And tonight I must make certain that he goes.

CHAPTER FOUR

I T WAS only when he became aware that people in the Kings Road were giving him curious looks that Sam realised he was walking along wearing a broad grin.
    ‘Get a grip,’ he muttered to himself, as he hurriedly rearranged his features, and hailed a cab. You may have got a result, he thought, but it was too close for comfort. Which doesn’t leave much to smile about.
    More than once he’d lost the prepared script completely. Found himself saying something totally unexpected again. And by doing so he’d pushed the whole situation to the edge.
    He’d need to tread more carefully that evening, he thought, removing the hated glasses and thrusting them into