His world changed, right there.
It was as if some sort of short circuit had shut down his brain. Cool, calm Marcus Benson who did nothing without thinking it out, whose world was a series of well planned, carefully orchestrated moves, who never let himself be shifted outside his zone of complete control…
Suddenly he was no longer in control. No. He hadn’t been in control since he’d met her, he thought desperately, but he was much more out of control now. His lips met his bride’s, and the electricity surging between them felt as if it could slam him into the far wall.
But only if she came, too, he thought, stunned, because there was no way he was letting her go.
He’d put his hands on her waist to draw her close to him-just a little-not to pull him hard in against her. But the warmth of her body was suddenly a fierce, molten link. The fire that surged in that link between them was unbelievable. His hands felt as though they belonged exactly where they were. They were forged into position. As if they’d found their home.
And her mouth… His mouth…
She tasted…
She tasted of Peta, he thought, with the tiny part of his brain that was left available to do any analysis at all. She tasted of nothing he had ever experienced before. She was so soft and yielding, and yet there was such strength.
He could taste the woman of her. He could feel the part of her that yielded to him and yet did not. That found her home in him and yet… And yet… And yet stayed her own sweet self.
She was curving in to him and he knew she was as bewildered as he was at this feeling. This feeling he could hardly begin to analyse. He had nothing to compare it to.
Peta…
It was too much. He was past thinking. He was oblivious to the small group of onlookers-to Ruby and Darrell and the city official, all looking on with bemusement. All he knew was how her lips tasted. How his heart lurched.
How the barren wasteland of his heart suddenly seemed a far-off memory.
Peta…
‘I’m sure you’ll be very, very happy.’
The official’s words broke in to the moment. Somehow. The man was beaming and waiting to grip Marcus’s hand, to claim the privilege of kissing the bride, of moving on to the next ceremony…
He didn’t hurry them. But this kiss had lasted a long time.
Marcus moved back. A little. Not much. His hands remained on Peta’s waist. He stared at her, dazed. She gazed back and his confusion was mirrored in her eyes.
‘I didn’t…’
‘I’m sorry…’ They spoke over each other and the moment somehow broke.
‘There’s no need to apologise to each other.’ The official was still beaming, his hand out to take Marcus’s and there was nothing for it but to release Peta. To let the moment go. ‘A man need never apologise for kissing his wife, and vice versa, and you have a lifetime ahead to do just that.’ He gripped Marcus’s hand and shook while Marcus fought desperately for normality. For sanity. Then the official turned and kissed Peta, breaking the contact even more. Giving Marcus room.
Letting reality in.
Then, the formalities over, the official stepped back and smiled some more. ‘There. All done. I’m sorry for the interruption to the ceremony but it doesn’t seem to have spoiled the moment. Congratulations.’ He glanced at his watch-surreptitiously, but it was a message for all that. ‘There’s some papers for you both to sign in the outer office, but that’s it. Congratulations, Mr and Mrs Benson. Welcome to your new life.’
The world took over. Of course it did.
Over the next hour Marcus moved on automatic pilot. He signed the register. He accepted congratulations. He faced the press. He shielded his bride as best he could and he smiled. He ate a meal-heaven knew what it was-in the restaurant Ruby had booked to celebrate the occasion. He listened to Darrell’s shy speech and he smiled.
He smiled.
By his side, Peta smiled as well, and her smile seemed just as forced as his.
Finally the formalities were over. ‘Darrell and I will take a cab home,’ Ruby told her boss. She reached into her handbag and hauled out a pouch. ‘These are your air tickets, your passport and all the documentation you’ll need for the next few weeks. Your plane leaves tomorrow morning at nine a.m.’
‘Mine goes tomorrow night.’ Peta had chatted during the meal but she’d sounded strained and the strain was still evident in her voice.
‘We took the liberty of changing your flights,’ Ruby told her. ‘You had a small taste of publicity today. With the short notice, the press contingent was limited. But Marcus’s wedding is going to hit the headlines tomorrow morning, and you’ll hardly want to be around for the fuss. The society tabloids have been trying to matchmake for Marcus since he made his first million.’
‘And now he’s hooked.’ Darrell’s smile matched Ruby’s. ‘That’s great.’
But it wasn’t great. ‘I didn’t hook anyone.’ Peta glowered. ‘He climbed on the line all by himself.’
‘And he can climb off again in two weeks,’ Ruby told her. She gathered her handbag and looked to Darrell. ‘Shall we leave these two-fishermen?-together?’
‘Sounds good to me.’ Darrell grinned. He took Marcus’s hand and shook-hard-and then he grasped Peta’s hands and pulled her in for a kiss to both cheeks.
‘You keep wiggling that hook,’ he said gently. ‘Marcus is the best mate in the world and he needs you more than he knows. So wiggle until he’s firmly caught. All the love in the world to you both.’
Then they were alone. The restaurant had alcoves that were separate rooms, giving absolute privacy. Ruby and Darrell had disappeared and Marcus was left with his bride.
The sensation was…unbelievable.
If only she wasn’t so lovely, he thought, a little bit desperately. Or a lot desperately. If only she wasn’t so vulnerable. So helpless. So-
‘I need to get this gear off. I feel like something that’s climbed off the top of a cake.’
Maybe vulnerable wasn’t the right word. Maybe vulnerable was a facade that went with the dress.
And she was right. This was silly. They needed to get back to normal. Remove the traces of bridal. But Marcus was aware of a faint tinge of regret in her voice-maybe because it struck an exact chord with what he was feeling. They were moving back into the real world and it hurt.
Maybe he could delay things.
‘Even Cinderella had until midnight,’ he told her. ‘Would you like to extend the fairytale?’
She stilled. ‘To do what?’
‘You’re leaving New York tomorrow,’ he told her. ‘You haven’t ridden around Central Park. Would you like to?’
She stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. Then she grinned and gestured to her dress. ‘In this?’
‘The best fairytales end in full glamour,’ he said cautiously, still unsure of what he was doing. ‘Do you trust me?’
‘I don’t trust anyone offering fairytales,’ she told him but the smile that went with her words was suddenly almost cheeky. ‘Prince Charming always seemed a bit of a pansy to me.’
And suddenly he found he could smile, too. Properly. He could drop the mask of indifference. She was asking nothing of him in the long term. She wouldn’t cling. He could stay with her and then walk away, his good deed done for life.
‘If I promise not to be a pansy…’
‘I doubt if you could be a pansy if you tried.’
‘Gee, thanks.’
‘Don’t mention it.’
‘So what about it? Do you want to have fun?’
Fun. The word hung between them. He stared down at her and he knew instinctively that the word was as
