Engaged at the Chatsfield (3 page)

CHAPTER FOUR

I
T
 
WAS
 
A
 
huge problem for Marcus. Right now he couldn’t think of a bigger one. He paced the floor like a lion confined in a cat carrier. He had to get through the weekend without compromising his pitch. He had worked so hard to even get shortlisted. Gene Chatsfield was a difficult client, and his brand-new CEO, Christos Giantrakos, even more so. Marcus would have to impress both of them to win the project; swanning around the hotel with the media on his tail was not going to help him. Christos was not the sort of man to tolerate a scandal. Marcus had heard via the grapevine that he was determined to wipe the floor with anyone—including any of the Chatsfield siblings—who dared to bring disrepute or shame on the hotel brand.

But that wasn’t the worst of it.

Sharing a room—
sharing a bed
—with Juliet Montague was something Marcus had been fantasizing about since Christmas.

But it was a fantasy, not reality.

She was off limits.

Ben would be furious to think he was having a fling with his baby sister. They had been best mates since they were at school together. Ben’s mum, Grace, was like a surrogate mother to him. The sort of solid and dependable nurturing maternal figure he had needed back in the days when his world had been blown apart by the debacle of his parents’ bitter divorce. Grace had provided a safe haven from all the craziness, had listened when he needed to talk, or talked when he needed to listen.

Ben and Juliet’s father, Graham Montague, had died of leukaemia when Juliet was a toddler. Like Grace, he studied English Literature at university and their mutual love of Shakespeare had brought them together, hence Juliet and Ben’s names. Grace had brought Ben and Juliet up alone since Graham’s death and had only recently begun seeing a retired professor of English History in Suffolk.

Ben and Juliet and Grace were Marcus’s family. He would do nothing to compromise or break the bond he had with them.

Marcus’s phone bleeped and he fished it out of his pocket to see Ben’s face come up on the screen. ‘Ben, I—’

‘Hey, man, I saw this weird tweet about you and Jules getting it on,’ Ben said. ‘She’s not answering her phone. What gives?’

‘It’s a misunderstanding. It’s got blown out of proportion.’

‘You’re not doing my kid sister, are you?’

Marcus thought of the silky feel of Juliet’s skin when he’d wrapped his fingers around her wrist. He thought of last Christmas when her fingers had brushed against his as he’d handed her that glass. He thought of all the nights in between when he had lain in bed wondering what it would be like to kiss that soft pink mouth and draw her curvy little body closer into his arms and—

‘Dude?’

Marcus snapped out of his reverie. ‘No, of course not. I told you, it’s a misunderstanding. Kendra Ashford’s having a hen’s party here with all her cronies and Juliet was feeling a little left out so she invented a fiancé.’

Ben chuckled. ‘And then you showed up. Freaky.’

‘I see your sick sense of humour hasn’t deserted you.’

‘Poor Jules. She must have been beside herself when you appeared like a genie out of a bottle. I hope you weren’t too hard on her.’

Remorse tasted sour in Marcus’s mouth. He had been brutal to her. Accusing her of setting him up when now, with a bit of reflection, he could see how Harriet would have made her feel pressured. Juliet was too soft when it came to her friends. She was too concerned about fitting in, about pleasing and accommodating everyone. She didn’t know how to stand up for herself. She was too trusting and kind and because she always believed the best of everyone; she didn’t realise until it was too late when she was being manipulated. ‘I’ll make it up to her.’

There was a brief silence.

‘You know it’s kind of cool you’re taking care of her for me,’ Ben said. ‘Mum and I have been worried all this celebrity stuff of mine would make it hard for her to sort out who’s genuine and who’s not. She’s pretty shy when it comes to guys. I don’t think she’s dated since that jerk did the dirty on her a few years back. Maybe you could show her a good time, help her get back her confidence.’

Marcus frowned. ‘You’re not telling me to sleep with your sister, are you?’

Ben gave another chuckle. ‘You want both your kneecaps, don’t you?’

* * *

‘So tell us how Marcus proposed?’ Kendra Ashford said holding out her champagne glass for another refill as the waiter came past.

Juliet was feeling a little jazzed from the two drinks she’d consumed—one and a half more than her usual. But the other girls were four or five ahead of her and it was starting to show. The conversation had become more and more risqué as the hen’s party accessories had come out. She had never seen drinking straws fashioned in the shape of men’s genitalia before. Where on earth did they find this stuff? ‘Erm...’

‘Was it super romantic?’ Harriet joined in the conversation.

‘Yes...very.’

‘What did he do?’ Kendra said. ‘Was it as good as Hugh’s or Tristan’s proposal?’

Juliet took another sip of her cocktail to give herself time to think of a proposal scene. Harriet’s and Kendra’s fiancés had gone to an enormous amount of effort and expense to propose. She didn’t want Marcus to look cheap or unromantic in comparison.

But how
would
he propose?

Not that he was ever going to... But hypothetically, if he ever did, how would he do it?

‘He called my mother and asked permission first,’ she said. ‘Then he took me for a candlelit dinner at an exclusive restaurant—’

‘Which one?’ Harriet asked.

Juliet took another big sip of her drink. This was the reason she never lied. One lie always turned into twenty. ‘Oh, we didn’t actually
eat
at the restaurant,’ she said. ‘Marcus ordered a prepacked picnic. We picked it up and then he took me to a private yacht moored on the river. It was one he’d designed for a client. There were candles in those little lantern things hanging from the mast and sails and fairy lights along the deck. There was a string quartet playing and white-suited wait staff and everything.’
OTT!
Stop!

The girls were all looking at her goggle-eyed.

‘Marcus did
all
that?’ Kendra said.

‘Gosh, and here I was thinking Tristan had topped everyone else by his sky writing proposal,’ Harriet said with a glum look as she reached for another cupcake.

‘Marcus is very romantic when you get to know him,’ Juliet said.

‘Show us the photos.’ Kendra leaned forward expectantly.

Juliet gulped. ‘Photos?’

‘Yeah, surely you took heaps,’ Harriet said, licking icing off one of her fingers. ‘I would’ve taken more of Tristan’s proposal if it hadn’t started to rain.’

‘I downloaded them off my phone,’ Juliet said. ‘Sorry.’

Kendra crossed her impossibly skinny legs and picked up her glass again. ‘Get Marcus to AirDrop some of his to your phone. He would’ve taken some surely?’

Juliet swallowed. ‘Right... Good idea... I’ll do that...’

CHAPTER FIVE

M
ARCUS
 
HAD
 
SHOWERED
 
and shaved and was sitting in front of his laptop when Juliet came back to the suite. She opened the door tentatively, her gaze averted as if she was worried he might be sitting there stark naked. Her cheeks were bright red and so was the tip of her nose. How many drinks had her friends plied her with? He didn’t trust Kendra or her sneaky little sidekick Harriet. He had a feeling they only included Juliet in their group because her more generous figure and understated beauty made them look all the more model-thin and stop-the-traffic gorgeous.

‘Sorry.’ She tiptoed into the room as if she were crossing a carpet of eggshells. ‘I hope I’m not disturbing you.’

Everything about her disturbed him. The way she had felt when he put his arm around her. The way she smelt so homey and yet exotic. The way her freckles made her look so young and innocent. The way her shiny brown hair had natural streaks of mahogany that showed up in the sunshine or under strong lighting. How her figure was not stick thin but curvy and womanly. Her breasts creamy and full, the cleavage deep and tantalising at the neck of her dress. His insides stretched and then coiled tight with lust. She was so sexy but totally unaware of it, which somehow made her even more attractive
.
‘How’d the tea party go?’

‘It was...fun...’

‘No male strippers?’

Her cheeks went a shade darker. ‘I think there might be one planned for tomorrow night.’

Marcus pushed back his chair and stood. ‘I had a call from Ben.’

She put her purse on the coffee table before tucking a strand of hair behind one of her ears. ‘I got a call from Mum when I came up in the lift just now.’

‘What did you tell her?’

Her gaze was still intent on avoiding his. ‘The truth.’

‘Always a good idea.’

Her eyes slowly crept up to his, luminous and toffee-brown and as big as Bambi’s. ‘Marcus?’

‘What?’

She rolled her lips together for a moment, her hands tying knots with each other in front of her stomach. ‘If you were going to propose to someone...how would you do it?’

Marcus gave an uncomfortable laugh. ‘What sort of question is that?’

‘It’s just—’ Her teeth sank into the pillow of her lip. ‘I kind of told the girls how you proposed and—’

‘
You told them
how I proposed?
’

She gave him an exasperated look. ‘I had to tell them something. I’m wearing your ring.’

He strode back to his desk and closed the lid of his laptop with a snap. ‘It’s not
my
ring. It’s not even a real diamond.’

‘You can
tell
that?’

He looked at her shocked expression. Her eyes were wide and her lush rosy red mouth open in an
O
. Did it really worry her
that
much? Was losing face in front of those vacuous girls
that
important to her? ‘I designed a yacht for a diamond dealer a couple of years ago,’ he said. ‘I can spot a fake a mile off.’

She looked down at her left hand, tilting it from side to side as if to see if it caught the light. ‘Do you think the girls will be able to tell? They didn’t say anything at tea....’

Marcus shrugged. ‘Who knows?’

Her forehead was pleated with worry. ‘I couldn’t afford to buy a real one. I had to do something quickly. I didn’t want them to think you were too tight with money to get me a ring.’

He frowned at her. ‘Why would you care what they think about me?’

Her eyes moved away from his. ‘I told them you proposed to me on a yacht you designed for a client. I told them it was really romantic with candles and fairy lights and a gourmet picnic and a string quartet playing on deck.’

He coughed out a snort of disdain. ‘For God’s sake, Juliet, I would
never
propose like that. You’re making me sound like a soppy fool.’

‘I had to make something up on the spot,’ she said. ‘If we’d talked about it first we could’ve got our story organised a bit better. Now they want to see the photos.’

‘Photos?’

She gave him another one of her wincing looks. ‘I don’t suppose you have any photos on your phone of one of your yachts?’

‘Plenty,’ Marcus said. ‘But sadly, not with fairy lights and candles and a string quartet.’

She tugged at her lower lip with her teeth again. ‘If you let me have a photo of your most luxurious one I can tell them you were so overwrought with nerves you forgot to take any after you’d decorated it with the lights and stuff. That could work.’

Marcus took out his phone, questioning his sanity as he selected a photo of a yacht he’d designed for a merchant banker last year. ‘Will this do?’ he asked.

She glanced at the photo, standing so close to him he could smell the flower-fresh scent of her hair. ‘That’s perfect!’ She glanced up at him animatedly. ‘It’s on the Thames, too.’

He messaged the photo to her before putting his phone back next to his wallet beside his laptop. ‘I hate those over-the-top proposals everyone’s doing these days,’ he said. ‘It’s such a waste of money. Not only that, it puts pressure on the woman to say yes. If half a million pounds has been spent on setting the scene, how could any woman say no?’

Her gaze was suddenly direct. Confident. Assured. Strident. ‘I would say no if I didn’t love him. It wouldn’t matter how much money he spent.’

‘You sure about that, sweet little Juliet?’

Her chin came up a fraction. ‘I wouldn’t promise to marry anyone I didn’t love.’

Marcus studied her expression for a long moment. She was so darned cute when she took a stand. But how would she recognise real love when she was so inexperienced? She was a babe in the woods compared to her snooty-nosed, street-smart friends. He knew she only stayed connected with them because she didn’t want to hurt their feelings. How would she protect herself from being exploited by some suave, smooth-talking guy who would sweep her off her feet with candles and fairy lights and string quartets?

She wouldn’t stand a chance.

‘Ben’s worried you’ll get taken in by some guy who only wants you for your connection with him.’

Her brown gaze narrowed and sharpened. ‘Oh, so I suppose you and he think I can’t attract a man in my own right?’

‘I didn’t say that.’

She stalked to the other side of the room, her arms going across her midsection. ‘Just because I’m not a size zero doesn’t mean I can’t find a man. If I wanted to I could go right out there now and hook up with someone.’

‘Not while you’re wearing my ring, you won’t.’

She swivelled back to look at him archly. ‘It’s not
your
ring, remember?’

Marcus scooped up his wallet and phone off the writing desk. ‘No, but it soon will be.’

* * *

Juliet looked at the tray of designer rings the jeweller set before her in a private consulting room a short time later. Glittering diamonds, huge solitaires or princess cut or mosaic settings, others set with blood-red rubies or midnight blue sapphires or creamy pearls. They were all laid out before her in glorious, decadent array. There were no price tags, which meant they were shockingly expensive.

‘I’ll leave you to discuss your choice in private,’ the jeweller said. ‘Just press that button there on the wall when you’ve made your decision.’

Juliet looked at Marcus once the jeweller had closed the door on his exit. ‘This is ridiculous. I can’t wear a ring that costs more than a house! What if I lose it?’

‘I’ll insure it.’

She looked at the beautiful mosaic-setting ring that was outshining all the others. It was the most gorgeous ring she had ever seen. From a distance it looked like any other good quality diamond but it was so complicated and intricate when you looked closer. ‘I suppose you can always give it back when we’ve finished using it...’

He picked up the ring she was eyeing and slid it on her finger. ‘Looks good. It suits your hand.’

Juliet met his inscrutable gaze. His hand was still holding hers, his fingers warm and strong and protective. Possessive. Something swooped and then dropped in her stomach as he slowly drew her to her feet until she was standing less than half a step from him. Her legs felt strangely unsteady, her breathing patchy, her heart skipping a beat as she felt the magnetic pull of his tall, strong presence drawing her inexorably closer.

She could smell the clean, cologne-fresh scent of him. She could see the pinpoints of his dark stubble even though he had recently shaved. She could feel the warmth of his body, the intimate closeness of him tempting her beyond her power to resist. His muscled thighs were a mere centimetre or two from hers. Her breasts were even closer to his chest, intensifying the erotic moment. If she leaned forward a few millimetres her nipples would brush against the finely woven cotton of his shirt.

Her awareness of him grew from deep inside her body, stirring all of her dormant senses into zinging wakefulness. Her inner core flickered with a pulse of sudden insistent need. It travelled through her, making her aware of every part of her body, all the sensitive spots and erogenous zones that secretly longed for his touches and caresses.

Did he know how much she wanted him? Could he read it in her face? In her eyes? In her body? Could he feel it in the electrically charged atmosphere?

His dark blue eyes were heavy lidded as they focussed on her mouth for an infinitesimal pause. She couldn’t look away if she tried. She was transfixed by the way he was poised there, as if drawing out the anticipation for as long as he could. She took another scatty little breath as his mouth came down ever so slowly towards hers....

Nerves suddenly got the better of her. She hadn’t brushed her teeth. What if she reeked of champagne and caramel-swirl cupcakes? She wanted their first kiss to be wonderful, truly memorable. She had dreamed of it since Christmas. How could it happen now when she wasn’t even prepared? ‘A-aren’t we supposed to press the button now?’ she said.

‘Later,’ he said, and sliding his hands up to cup both her cheeks, he covered her mouth with his.