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Chapter Twenty-Two
If Nick was a bad boy, Brittany was a bad girl.
A very bad girl.
When she'd woken in Nick's arms the first morning after their wedding, she'd felt him pulling away, trying to disengage. And while winding up with her head resting on his chest and the rest of her draped over him hadn't been planned, she'd taken full advantage of the situation.
Maybe not full advantage, as that would've entailed doing a lot more than cuddling, but she'd pretended to sleep while savouring the hard chest cushioning her cheek, the warm, toned body beneath her hands, and his intensely male scent that set off her pheromones in a big way and always had.
She could've stopped there but, no, she'd been a really, really bad girl.
And proceeded to do the same every morning.
For the last two weeks.
The tension was killing her. If only it were doing the same to her husband.
'How's business coming along?'
Her head snapped up from where she'd been resting her chin in her hands, staring out the window and daydreaming of exactly how bad she'd like to be, to find the object of her wicked fantasies staring at her with cool detachment.
It had to be a ruse. After all, wasn't Nick the one who'd been hot to trot on their wedding night? Surely he couldn't have turned off?
By his compressed lips and grim expression, apparently so.
She waved her hand at the stack of paperwork on the table in front of her. 'The photographer's been out to the plantation every day this week and taken loads of shots. The cameraman's due out there tomorrow, and I'm collating some of the historical info I got from your grandfather's ledgers. So everything's coming along nicely.'
He crossed the room to perch on the edge of the table, meaning her eyes were now level with his crotch, and she quickly stood, not needing to look there considering her thoughts a few moments ago.
'You've been busy.'
‘Yeah, because I’ve got loads to do.’ She flung her arms a metre apart. ‘I’ve got a task list a mile long today, including heading out to the plantation to scout more locations, checking the ones I've already chosen, making sure they match the information I'm in the process of adding to the pitch—'
'Hold on.' His hand shot out, gripping hers, and preventing her from putting some much-needed distance between them.
Trying not to show how much his simple touch affected her, she raised an eyebrow. 'What's up?'
Shaking his head, he squeezed her hand before releasing it. 'I'm no good at this.'
'At what?'
'This whole fake marriage thing.'
Maybe the tension was getting to him after all.
'Not used to sharing a suite, huh?'
He must've heard her teasing tone but rather than smile, he fixed her with a piercing stare. 'Not used to sharing a suite with you.'
Right then she knew, no matter how cool Nick had been acting, he was just as rattled by their underlying attraction as she was.
'Oh? I thought it'd be a breeze.'
She waltzed around the room, picking up random items of clothing for the photo shoots: floral skirts, summer dresses, and the odd piece of lingerie or two.
She wasn't playing fair with the lingerie but hey, she wanted to get a reaction out of him, and if the tortured look that flickered across his face as she twirled an ebony satin bra on the end of her finger before tossing it onto a pile was any indication, her plan was working.
'A breeze? More like a damn tropical cyclone,' he muttered, shoving off the table and heading for the wide window affording a glorious view of Noosa beach.
