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Hell. Just looking at her from a distance made him crazy. What hope did he have up close?
She looked like a supermodel tonight but he couldn't erase the image of her clad in those cotton pyjamas on their wedding night.
He'd lied about those PJs being contraception on legs. The minute he'd caught his first glimpse of her, framed in the bathroom doorway with vulnerability all over her face, he'd wanted to cross the room, haul her into his arms, and never let go.
That had been one hell of a night.
Not for the reason he might've anticipated, considering she fired his libido as no other woman ever had or probably ever would. He’d lain awake for hours, listening to her soft breathing, wishing things could've turned out differently between them, silently chastising himself for being a fool.
He'd thought by getting her to talk about the past she might relax and learn to trust him again. Instead, she'd fed him some lame excuse about why she'd run away and he'd been the stupid one to blurt out he still cared. Go figure?
Thankfully, the last two weeks had passed in a frenetic blur with finalising details for the new Caribbean hotel and, apart from that slight aberration yesterday when he'd almost made a pathetic declaration of how much he liked having her around, they'd managed to maintain a polite distance.
All business, and he assumed that’s why she'd agreed to accompany him to the Bachelor and Spinsters Ball tonight. A ball the FantaSea chain sponsored, a ball where every billionaire in Australasia would be in attendance, a ball where he'd learn how far his plan to marry Britt had got him.
Since he’d married, hotel occupancy had gone up fifty percent and phone calls from potential investors tripled. Maybe the old tycoons had finally recognised him as a successful, wealthy businessman with one thing on his mind: making his hotels the best in the world.
Tonight would prove how far he'd come. Reaching out by calling him for potential meetings was one thing, accepting him as one of their own in public another.
Britt glanced up at that moment and their gazes locked, hot and intense, and he strode across the harvesting shed that had been transformed into a cross between a country-and-western saloon and a high-school disco.
It would be his sugar plantation's final hurrah. Once Britt completed her work here he'd sell the place, severing ties to his past once and for all.
He'd prevaricated long enough, plagued by guilt the last twelve months. This place had been Pa's pride and joy, built from the ground up with grit, sweat, and determination. It had been the only place Nick had ever called home but, more than that, it had been a refuge after his mum abandoned them.
The old farmhouse should've repulsed him, should've been a constant reminded of what happened when he loved a woman too much. But he'd deliberately blocked out the few memories of his mother, had filled his head and his heart with new ones, mostly centred on a wizened Italian man with a penchant for ripe tomatoes, coarse wine, and sugar in his veins.
Pa had been more than a parent, he'd been Nick’s idol. The thought of bringing shame to the family name had stopped Nick from taking his rebel image too far, Pa's steadfast support a constant reminder he could be anybody he chose to be.
But that was the problem. As long as he held onto the plantation, people would be reminded of his humble beginnings, would still harbour doubts about his ability to mix it with the big boys in the hotelier business.
It would kill him to sell, would tear him clean in two, but nothing could erase memories of a father who'd helped mould him into the man he was today.
Pa would understand, would've encouraged him to move forward, and that was exactly what Nick would do, despite the nagging in his gut that he was turning his back on family.
When he reached Britt, who happened to be standing next to Bram Rutger, the most influential businessman in the district, he clamped down on the urge to drag her close and whisper ‘let’s get out of here’ in her ear.
‘If it isn't the man of the moment. Glad you finally showed up at your own shindig, Mancini.'
To his amazement, Bram stuck his hand out, something he'd never done despite the many times they'd crossed paths at similar functions in Sydney or Singapore the last few years.
Nick shook it, vindicated his plan had worked yet despising himself for caring what this pompous old fool thought of him.
He forced a smile. ‘Busy with business, you know how it is.'
'That I do, my boy. Something we'll discuss more of when you return my phone calls.’ Bram’s bushy eyebrows wriggled like a caterpillar crawling across his forehead. ‘I’m looking to expand my investment portfolio and I think we should talk.'
Bram's announcement reinforced that Nick had made a sound business decision marrying Britt, but his satisfaction evaporated when the jackass slipped an arm around Britt's waist.
'And I hear congratulations are in order. You've picked a fine woman here.' Bram squeezed Britt's waist and Nick's hands curled into fists. 'I've known young Brittany since she was in the cradle, so make sure you take good care of her, you hear?'
Nick would take good care of her, starting with punching the supercilious coot on the nose, but he forced a smile and nodded.
'Shall do. Now, if you'll excuse us?' Nick held out a hand, biting back a grin when Britt all but bolted out of Bram's hold.
'Nice seeing you again, Bram.' She wiggled her fingers in a teasing wave and Nick growled under his breath as they walked away.
'You shouldn't tease the old goat. It might give him a heart attack.'
