The Billioniare's Bought Bride (Contemporary Romance) by Michele Dunaway

constructed Woodland Point’s clubhouse out of multi-colored stones quarried locally, the same stones were found in the huge fireplaces of both the Summerhaven and Pershall estates. The interior of the country club had exposed wood timbers and the décor was old world, yet stylish.
    The hostess seated them at a table for four overlooking the second green, and Madison smiled politely as Dylan pushed in her chair before seating himself to her left. Like this morning, his thigh touched hers beneath the table, creating a palatable heat through the dark blue dress pants he wore.
    Being summer, the eight-foot wide stone fireplace held only glowing candles, and subdued lighting hung from the exposed brown rafters. Despite moneyed subtlety, the atmosphere zinged. Every touch Dylan made, from his fingertips on her elbow, to his hand on hers when helping out of the car, had created longing. Chemistry was a dangerous thing.
    “I’ve always wondered why they didn’t mount dead animals on the walls,” Madison said as she sought something, anything, to break the increasing tension fraying her nerves. “I guess that wouldn’t appeal to vegetarians.”
    Dylan swiveled to better face her. “Probably not very appetizing,” he said, breaking the silence that had begun on the ten-minute drive around the lake. He closed his menu and set it aside.
    Edginess made Maddy uncharacteristically chatty. “This room was designed to have the aura of a Scottish men’s club, not that I’ve ever seen one of those. Surely you have? I heard you were well traveled.”
    “I wouldn’t know. I have seen the world, but most of it from a hotel room window during business trips. I haven’t done the touristy things since I was eighteen. I managed to get out of the rest of my parents’ trips after I left home. They still travel constantly. They’re currently on an around-the-world cruise.”
    He twisted his Rolex and settled back against his chair. Like most men in the room, he again wore the short-sleeve polo shirt synonymous with the Knollwood Lake lifestyle. The club, never one to require a coat and tie, catered to the whims of its wealthy and eccentric summer patrons, many of whom walked straight off the links to indulge in drinks and four delicious gastric courses. 
    All around restaurant-goers laughed and chatted, oblivious to anything but their own immediate worlds. Madison lifted her water goblet to her lips.               She drank, but the ice- cold water sliding down her parched throat did little to soothe.
    “Maddy? Would you like something besides water? Perhaps a cocktail? Champagne?”
    Madison blinked, focusing on Dylan and the hovering waiter who were both waiting for her answer. “You choose.”
    “I’d be happy to.” Dylan quickly dispatched the waiter before giving her his full attention. “So how was the rest of your day?”
    “Tiring.” Although the adrenaline humming through her now had her wide awake.
    “I’ll give you a massage later if that’ll help.”
    He reached out and covered her hand with his. The movement made her toes curl, a direct contrast to her stomach, which was churning as if trying to make butter. Half of her desired him while the other part screamed, “Run!”
    How did one submit to a loveless marriage where sex was expected? She’d never been a woman who simply could separate herself into two parts. She might have to marry him, but she couldn’t lose herself in the process.
    The waiter returned, and Maddy freed her hand by reaching for her water. She sipped the cold liquid while listening half-heartedly to the waiter as he outlined the evening’s specials.
    She twisted the linen napkin in her lap. She could do this. She could say the words, the words that would secure the future of the land she loved.
    She took a deep breath, steadying her composure. Her grandparents would roll over in their graves at her decision, so the least she could do was act like a Johansson in public.