The Bridal Chase
Darcy Maguire

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Darcy Maguire spends her days as a matchmaker, torturing tall, handsome men, seducing them into believing in love and romancing their socks off! And when she’s not working on her novels, she enjoys gardening, reading and going to the movies. She loves to hear from readers. Visit her at www.darcymaguire.com.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER ONE

ROXANNE GRAY glanced up at the ceiling dragging in a ragged breath. The bar was crass, loud and a cliché, but it had to be at his local.

She figured she had to seem available and willing to roll between the covers with him with only the smallest effort on his part.

Oh, gawd. What had she got herself into?

It had taken her for ever to work out that she couldn’t just go anywhere to pick him up. It couldn’t be at a library or he’d think she was too smart to fall straight into bed with him. And it couldn’t be at a shopping mall because, goodness, although she’d be awfully comfortable and at home, she couldn’t wait that long until he went into one.

Roxanne toyed with the stem of her glass to still her shaking hands. It couldn’t be on public transport because he probably didn’t take it—he was the sort of guy who would have a really nice car parked somewhere…and if by chance he did take the bus or train, what was the likelihood he’d consider a woman who made eye contact? Even if it was just for sex?

She glanced around the room, taking a deep breath to calm herself, pushing the thought far from her mind. Just meeting him was all she had to worry about, for now.

His workplace had seemed a nice safe environment for her to engineer a meeting with him, but there were just too many rules for office decorum and propriety to wade through before she’d have been able to get what she needed.

She glanced towards the door, the thought of escape on her mind. She didn’t have to step this far out of her comfort zone to prove anything…or did she?

Roxanne shook herself. This had to be done. She needed a quick, efficient approach and this was it. The only logical option left to her was a club like this.

She had to smile at the cliché she made, sitting at a bar in a short black dress with a plunging neckline. She clutched her strawberry daiquiri as if it was a lifeline to sanity.

She couldn’t believe she was doing this…

Roxanne stroked the book beside her, struggling with her rising panic. It had given her a few ideas on how to do this. She’d picked it up from a little bookshop down the street. It dedicated an entire chapter to the arts of picking up a woman…she couldn’t find one on how to pick up a guy. Either it wasn’t that hard or women didn’t usually do it. Either way, she figured the book had at least given her a few hints.

She took another gulp of her daiquiri, savouring the fruity sweetness, praying the double jigger of rum she’d asked for had given her the courage to go through with this.

Gawd, she hoped he liked her and fell into her trap—hook, line and sinker.

Roxanne tried to smile at the barman, but failed. The mass of pick-up lines swirled in her head, the litany of conversation starters, and the burden of the result she was looking for was all she could cope with.

She swung around on her stool, trying to ignore the cold knot forming in her belly. The bar was filling fast with suits from all quarters of the city sector stopping in for a quick drink before the long haul homeward, most probably to partners and kids. Some just meeting up with others to take the trip with, or to join friends to go out somewhere else.

The bar was a trendy place deep in Sydney’s business sector, with just the right balance of class and approachability. The artworks on the walls were modern, the solid colours lit by bright lights shining only on them, the rest of the room bathed in the shadows and the reflected light, giving a mood of intimacy and privacy despite the lack of space.

The black faux-marble bar stretched almost across the room, with matching tables with their own chrome bar stools perched beside them, placed to maximize the capacity rather than for comfort zones. And Roxanne was as far from her comfort zone as she could get.

She didn’t want to be here, or meet him.

Cade Taylor Watson…what a name. She glanced at the photo of him that she was using as a bookmark. His large square jaw, his strong brow, his chiselled features giving his image a strength and a presence that she could feel right down to her toes.

Her hand still shook as she lifted her glass again. This wasn’t going to be easy.

She took a big gulp of her drink, scanning the room again, half-afraid she’d missed him, yet more terrified that she hadn’t.

He stood by the door.

Her heart slammed into her chest.

He was easy to spot. He stood a good six inches taller than the suits around him. His finely tailored suit was deep blue. His hair was cut short at the sides, the longer top slightly spiked, the colour an almost rusty-blond that seemed to match his eyes—a golden hazel, and his gaze careered around the room.

His attention rested on her only a moment and kept moving, obviously looking for someone…else.

She let out the breath she was holding, the pressure in her chest easing. O-kay. So he hadn’t been magnetically drawn to her the way she’d sort of hoped he would. She would have preferred it if he’d locked eyes with hers, his feet moving him closer, and she would have dazzled him with her pick-up lines and conversation starters.

Dammit. Now she had to go and break the ice herself.

She gulped some more of the Dutch courage in her glass. Could she just sit on this stool and hope she radiated enough charm and allure that he’d buy her a drink? Could she afford to wait, to rely on her looks and short black dress to get her the result she needed?

No.

She jerked to her feet, slowly smoothed down the fabric of her dress on the off chance he was watching, picked up her handbag and sauntered over to the guy.

Her blood rushed hot and fiery to her cheeks.

She walked slowly, conscious of the thrust of her breasts, of the sway of her hips, of the distance that was vanishing between her and where he sat on his stool at a small table near the window.

This was it. She could do this. She was a professional…or temping as one, and that was as good as being one, wasn’t it?

He was hunched over the small table, a pen in his hand, scribbling on a napkin. His shopping list? His workload? A dear Jane letter?

She tapped him on his large square shoulder, acutely aware of the warmth under her fingertip, of the man beneath the suit and just how long it had been since she’d been this close to one, let alone touched one.

Roxanne swallowed hard. ‘Excuse me,’ she said softly. Darn it, a woman on the prowl didn’t have confidence issues. She should be strong, independent and daring.

He turned towards her, the pen in his hand. ‘Yes?’

His deep rich voice washed over her, seeping into her skin and making every nerve stand on alert.

She opened her mouth but the words wouldn’t come—Cade Taylor Watson…was a hunk!

His warm gaze met hers and careered over her in quick assessment, taking in her attire, and hopefully the shape of her body that she’d slithered into the dress.

Was he thinking how nicely they’d fit together? How her hands would feel running over that incredibly fine body of his, of her lips tracing the muscles on his wide chest, of her curling her fingers in his light hair, or of them fusing together?

Roxanne opened her mouth, and closed it. So, he was more handsome than she could have imagined…there was an energy about him that wasn’t captured in the photo, that one could only feel in the flesh, first hand. And dammit she was feeling it.

‘Can I help you?’ he offered, his golden-flecked eyes warm and inviting.

She licked her lips, the welcoming flicker she saw boosting her will. ‘I—’ Oh, help. Weather? Politics?

A straight-out invitation to get down and dirty with her?

He raised an eyebrow, rotating the pen in his right hand like a mini baton.

‘I…’ She pulled her attention from the sexy shape of his lips to meet his eyes. She could do this. She’d researched, practised and was primed. She clenched her hands by her sides. ‘Are your legs tired?’ She tried to smile like the book said. ‘Because you’ve been running through my dreams.’

‘Wow,’ he murmured, a smile fighting his sensuous mouth. ‘I don’t think I’ve heard that one before.’

‘Ever used it?’ she said in a rush.

‘No, but I have used a few others in my time.’

She couldn’t help but smile. This wasn’t so bad. He wasn’t going to jump on her or anything…pity. It would have made this so much easier. ‘I probably should have gone with something about the weather…’ she offered tentatively.

He rubbed his jaw as though trying to smother his smile. ‘Wouldn’t have been as memorable or as cute.’

She clasped her hands gently in front of her, holding them tightly, a bubble of excitement rising up inside. They were talking, clicking. This was going to be no problem at all. ‘Thanks, you wouldn’t believe how hard this is.’

Cade nodded, raising an eyebrow, putting the pen in his shirt pocket along with the napkin. ‘I know. I’ve done it enough times myself but I have to say it’s not often I get the opportunity of being on the receiving end.’

‘Really? I would think that women everywhere would take a punt and chat you up.’ Was she smiling too much? She could feel her cheeks aching…she was. She tried to sober under his warm gaze.

‘You’re the first.’

‘So—’ She glanced wildly around the room. This was it. Phase two. She’d got his attention, now all she had to do was get a sign he wanted to do more than chat to her. ‘Can I—’

Someone tapped her on the shoulder. She turned, pulling her gaze away from Cade’s, forcing herself to focus on the interruption rather than the gorgeous challenge at hand.

‘You left your book, Miss,’ the barman said, thrusting something towards her. ‘On the bar.’

Oh, no. She yanked the book out of the guy’s hands where he was brandishing it around for everyone to see, including Cade. How to be a Stud was not going to help her cause at all.

She stuffed the book into her handbag, fighting with the corners to get the zip up, the seconds melting into a minute that felt too long.

Roxanne swung around to face her mark, forcing a smile on her face.

His seat was empty.

A sense of loss filled her. She tried to laugh at her defeat, but couldn’t. What had happened?

Had he gone to get her a drink, gone to the bathroom, or to talk to a friend? Roxanne scanned the room but there weren’t any tall rusty-blond hunks to be seen.

She’d lost him.

What was her sister going to say when she heard about this? She was meant to be helping her, not making a mess of things.

A glimpse of a blue suit caught her eye through the sign on the front window. Cade Taylor Watson was on the footpath outside, his arm around a woman.

She moved closer to the window.

Roxanne recognised her instantly, the sight a steel weight in the pit of her belly, reminding her of her decision to do this, of her sister and of her miserable failure.

She sagged against the windowsill. She’d mucked it up. Her first attempt at being a private investigator-cum-seductress and she’d failed, miserably, but then she hadn’t had long.

He’d been late.

She was early.

And she was left with nothing.

CHAPTER TWO

CADE glanced back towards the bar, a dull ache sliding into his chest.

Given different circumstances, like a few months earlier, and it would have taken a hurricane to tear him away from a unique and tantalising woman like her. Now all it took was Heather.

He’d had no other choice. Heather had arrived right on time. He’d wanted to say goodbye to the tall, curvaceous beauty with the pick-up line and amazing smile, but it was wise not to have. Heather would not have understood.

Heather may be beautiful, successful and classy, but tolerant she was not. Meeting her at a gallery opening just after deciding it was time to settle down and get married had seemed like fate. She’d seemed perfect.

He steered Heather towards the car park, focusing on the footpath and his fiancée beside him and not the woman he’d just left.

He should have said something to her. It didn’t have to be a lot. Just to let her know that he appreciated her wit, her attention and her smile. The thought of putting her off being so confident and charming…

The guilt sat heavy in his gut.

He swung to Heather. ‘So how was your day?’ he blurted, opening the door on his black Lexus.

‘Oh, just the usual, honey. What about yours?’ she lilted, shooting him one of her dazzling smiles.

‘Fine.’

She swung and faced him, stabbing him with a piercing gaze, her eyes glittering dangerously. ‘Did I see you talking to a pretty woman back there?’

The question was loaded, like a double-barrelled shotgun aimed at his chest. He knew she’d already come to her own conclusion, her tone said it all.

He shrugged as innocently as he could manage.

Damage control was all he could offer. ‘The one that wanted to know the time?’ he offered diplomatically, striding around the car.

The woman had wanted to pick him up but Heather didn’t have to know that. It would just upset her, and there was no way in the world he wanted to do that.

Besides, nothing had happened.

‘So where are we going tonight?’ she said more cheerily as though she’d already dropped the matter.

He was thankful. He didn’t want to go there… He wasn’t sure he should be feeling like this, about anyone except Heather.

He just didn’t seem as close to his fiancée as he first had been. There was no doubt that she had heaps to do, what with her busy career, her obligations to family and friends and planning their wedding.

The wedding seemed to take all the spare time she had, despite having a wedding planner and both his and her mothers’ help. But then the wedding was only two weeks away now.

He took a deep breath. It would all be fine after the wedding. Like it used to be. Besides, everyone loved her. He loved her. There wasn’t anything more to it.

Cade just wished their approaching nuptials didn’t occupy all her time. He’d wanted to spend a lot of time with her, get to know her even more.

He sighed. He guessed they had the rest of their lives for that.

‘Does dinner at The Palace sound okay to you?’ he asked, slipping behind the wheel.

Heather liked to be wined and dined at the finest of places and surprised with treats and gifts, and he loved seeing her happy. Which reminded him. He reached into the back seat and pulled out a small wrapped package. ‘For you.’

‘Oh, thank you,’ she lilted, fluttering her eyelashes at him as he started the car. ‘You know I love surprises, darling.’

He nodded, starting the car, quelling the image of being with that tall, mysterious beauty. He had everything and there was no way he’d risk that for anything.

He glanced at the woman who would soon be his wife, the tension easing from his shoulders. She was impeccably dressed, as she always was. Groomed and preened to perfection; even after a day’s work at the fashion house that she managed she looked like a million dollars. Not the same sort of perfection as the stranger in the bar…hers was more a natural beauty, something she had without effort.

He could almost smell the stranger’s sweet vanilla scent on the edge of his memory.

He caught himself. It didn’t matter. Heather loved her top-shelf perfume, her designer wardrobe, his family and him…that was all that mattered.

They were going to have the perfect life together. She was everything he’d always wanted.

Roxanne dropped her head on to the desk, lifting and dropping it again for good measure. Why?

What was wrong with her?

Why had she even tried to pick the guy up with only minutes before his fiancée turned up? As if he was going to do anything then anyway…he wouldn’t have even been considering her. There would be no way even the most daring man would risk it.

She couldn’t stop thinking about it.

She rubbed the sore spot on her forehead. Maybe his impending date wouldn’t have mattered to him if her dress had been shorter, sexier, red?

She sighed, dropping her head again on to the desk and staying there, covering her face. She was hopeless.

What sort of professional was she? She hadn’t even looked at her watch to check out how much time she had…hadn’t even thought about it after he had walked in that door, towering above the mortals, looking like a god in that tailored suit.

She would have thought it would have been easier, especially after all those detective novels she’d read and the shows she’d watched on TV.

She stared around the small office in the two-storey walk-up that her sister, Nadine, had found to run her business. It wasn’t exactly typical of an investigator’s office.

It was small, the size of a small apartment, with enough room for two desks, a couple of wastepaper baskets and three walls of filing cabinets that Nadine’s daughter, Rory, had decorated with crayon.

A small pile of toys sat in the corner on a miniature desk where Rory came to help out when pre-school was out and the holidays were on.

One window looked out on the neighbouring office block’s western wall and had floral curtains and the other faced the street with pink blinds that wouldn’t go down.

The outer office was painted a soft peach with the paint that her sister had left over from painting her daughter’s bedroom, with a sofa that had seen better days and a pile of magazines from the Dark Ages.

Despite appearances, Nadine said the business was going quite well…if you didn’t count today’s disaster or the fact that Roxanne had been left to hold the fort—and she had no experience in this type of fort at all.

What she was going to do now with the Cade case she had no idea. Half of her wanted to shove the thing into the filing cabinet and forget about it, the other half hankered to go and see the guy again, to try again.

Could she?

No. It would be too obvious and far too awkward for her, and the fact that her track record with men was a disaster had to be taken into account.

The door burst open.

Nadine rushed into the room, carrying an armload of files. ‘What are you still doing here?’ She glanced at her watch. ‘It’s late.’

Roxanne looked at the clock on the wall. ‘Yes.’ But she hadn’t wanted to go home and face her sister until she’d worked out what to do.

‘Don’t think you can weasel overtime out of me.’ Her sister shot her a smile that looked a lot like her own, like her hair and her eyes—if there hadn’t been three years between them they could have been twins.

Nadine flicked back the wisps of her auburn-tinted brown hair. ‘How’s it going anyway? Are you finding everything okay? Taking notes for every call? Being polite?’ She dumped the files on to the desk. ‘Can you file these while you’re hanging round?’

Roxanne rubbed her forehead to ease the pain and sat up straighter. ‘Sure, but shouldn’t you be at home with Rory? I’ve got this all covered.’

Her sister scooped up the papers from a tray on her desk. ‘I’ve got a sitter with her for an hour so I haven’t got much time…I just wanted to catch up on paperwork… Are you sure you’re all right with this? I know I sort of dropped this on you, but you were jobless…’

Roxanne stood up. ‘I’m fine. Everything’s fine. I’m handling everything. I’ve had plenty of experience in office management.’

Nadine nodded, heading for the door. ‘Not this kind of office, I’ll bet.’

Roxanne’s mind shot to the scene earlier in the bar. That was for sure.

‘And I forgot to tell you, if there’s anyone who can’t wait until next week just pass them on to the private investigators that I wrote there in the appointment book.’

Roxanne’s gaze wandered over to the number scrawled on the top of the book. Just great. She could have told her that earlier.

The elegant woman had come in first thing this morning, insisting on getting the job done at the soonest possible time, threatening to take her business elsewhere if Roxanne couldn’t guarantee an immediate start.

‘And ring me if there’s a problem at all; I can track down a sitter for Rory for an hour or so while she’s sleeping. I can be a mother and troubleshoot messes at the same time.’

Roxanne froze. Her messes. She could hear Nadine’s accusation as clearly in her tone as every other time that her sister had come and saved the day for her, whether she wanted saving or not.

Since their mother had passed away Nadine had taken over the role with a vengeance. Well, she wasn’t a teenager any more and Nadine didn’t need to know she’d gone and tried to do a job herself and made a mess of it.

So, she had messed up the first time. She wasn’t going to run to Nadine at the first sign of trouble, she wasn’t going to pass the buck and she certainly wasn’t going to show that she wasn’t prepared to go out there in the real world again and put herself on the market.

She could face Cade Taylor Watson again.

Roxanne was up to the task, just not today, not without some more preparation and planning. She’d blundered in earlier, but not again.

She straightened the papers on the desk with quick, jerky movements, avoiding her sister’s gaze. Saying no to that client wouldn’t have been good for Nadine’s business anyway and the business was all her sister had after her jerk of a husband ran off with his secretary.

Nadine had taken up where her ex’s investigating business had left off. She didn’t just do the general private investigating work that her husband had done with a few marital jobs thrown in. Marital was her speciality.

Roxanne was behind the idea of testing a man’s fidelity one hundred and fifty per cent. She wished she’d known about it years ago—her life would have been so different if she had.

Nadine yanked open the door. ‘So, call me if you have any problems. In the meantime, just make appointments and take messages.’

Roxanne nodded, clamping down on the urge to confess her foray earlier. ‘I’m here to help,’ she blurted, plastering a smile on her face.

She would have come to help her sister earlier, but she had been committed elsewhere, in another state, with her own life, job, apartment and lover…

Now, she wasn’t.

She should have come as soon as she heard Nadine was starting up her own business and saved herself a lot of distress instead of staying in Melbourne.

‘How’s Rory?’ Roxanne blurted. If her daughter hadn’t been sick Nadine would have been here when the client had come in. She would have known exactly what to do and how to pull it off without a hitch, first time round. ‘Better?’

‘Not really.’ Her sister glanced behind her, frowning. ‘I’ve got to get back just in case she wakes up and needs me.’

Roxanne nodded.

‘And don’t hide here all night. You have to have a life too. You’ve got to put your chin up and get on with it, you know.’

She held her tongue as her sister swept out, closing the door firmly behind her. There was nothing wrong with staying late at work. It didn’t mean anything. She was so over Aaron.

Her belly twisted at the thought of him, of what he could be doing—whether he thought of her at all, or not.

She lifted her chin. She had a problem to solve and she had a duty to not distract Nadine from her daughter. They needed time together and her niece needed her mother more than her mother needed to worry about work.

That was her job, for now, and she was going to manage the office and keep the place ticking over until Nadine got back, and she was going to do it no matter what it took, even baiting handsome men.

If, in the process, she managed to prove to her sister that she wasn’t the total cock-up that she thought she was, it would be a bonus. Sure, she was useless in keeping a relationship with a guy, keeping a house tidy and keeping a fridge sanitary, but she could do this.

If someone wanted to prove that Cade Taylor Watson was a womaniser, a man likely to roam, a man who was going to betray his girlfriend, then she was the woman for the job.

She wasn’t a quitter.

She was going to nail the guy.

She couldn’t help but smile, the vision of Cade Taylor Watson’s handsome face coming to mind.

Her body warmed. Who could call it work?

All she had to do was get him to show his true colours… How hard could it be? He was a man.

The job was as good as done.

CHAPTER THREE

THE restaurant was perfect. The lighting soft, the twinkling candles on the tables, the gentle strains of the lone lute player filling the room, curling around her.

The mood was gentle, romantic, inviting love, inviting intimacy…cripes, inviting sex. She couldn’t have done it better.

Roxanne swivelled on the barstool, surveying the patrons leaning in to each other in whispered closeness.

She had plenty of time. If he got here at a reasonable hour…and the word was that a call was going to come in with the message that suggested his fiancée couldn’t make it. He’d think there’d be plenty of time to explore his options with her, and for her to prove his infidelity.

The guy didn’t stand a chance.

She smoothed down her indecently tight red gown. She had considered a short one that showed a lot of leg but she decided classy elegance would be better in this case, knowing Cade a little better.

Roxanne caught herself. Not that she knew him. Goodness, a couple of seconds and a smile didn’t mean a thing.

Sure, she’d pored over the information that she had been given on him. The fact that he had two parents who were still in love after thirty-five years, that he had a younger sister in the art business, that he had an apartment on the north side with views of the bay and was a top architect and partner in a prominent firm in Sydney. They were just facts. So, the guy liked to go camping, fishing and to all sorts of theatre. It wasn’t like knowing this information meant anything, least of all that she was interested.

This was not a dating service—it was a fidelity-testing one to see whether the guy was marriage material for Miss Heather Moreton or not, to give a guarantee that most wanted when committing to a guy, but rarely got.

This was an amazing service that her sister offered her clients so they didn’t have to go through all that pain later. And it would come.

Men couldn’t be trusted. Not an inch, no matter how nice and kind and handsome they appeared to be. Men were all the same. Liars, who’d betray to serve their own interests when you least expected it.

She couldn’t help but think of her mother, her sister and a myriad of friends…

Roxanne gripped the bar stool.

Cade Taylor Watson strode through the door, his black suit hugging his generous frame, his white shirt throwing the deep purple tie he wore in stark contrast, and his presence striking her immediately.

Hell.

He could have been wearing a tuxedo for the cut of the suit, the commanding aura he exuded as he strode towards her…the bar.

She swung back around, staring at her tropical daiquiri, her mind blank.

What was her line for meeting him again? Fate? It seemed so stupid now…maybe he wouldn’t even recognise her from last time. He probably hadn’t given her a second thought over the weekend…

What she’d said to him had haunted her, as did her foolish move to rush in without looking at her watch, thinking of nothing but talking to the guy, touching base, making a connection and hoping and praying that he was interested in her and she wasn’t making the biggest fool of herself for talking to him.

The only difference in doing this job opposed to real dating was that she was getting paid…or at least Nadine was.

He took a stool one space away. ‘Scotch, neat,’ he directed the barman, plucking his pen from his shirt pocket.

She focused all her attention on her glass. Did he want her number? Already?

The umbrella in her drink was pink, sticking out at a wild angle, the straws standing tall and straight, the multitude of fruit stuck to the side of the glass testament to her avoidance of any alcohol this time, not until it was over. She couldn’t afford to take any risks.

It was her last chance. There was no way even the stupidest guy could imagine a chance meeting happening three times.

She adjusted the purse balancing on her lap, pushing down the button on the tape recorder. It probably would have been better to have hidden a camera somewhere but she had no idea how to use the one from the office, and from what Nadine said it had cost a fortune.

Roxanne straightened the umbrella and plucked a strawberry off the side of her glass, biting down on the soft flesh of the fruit, trying to think above the roaring blood in her head.

Wasn’t he going to say anything?

Did he remember her?

The silence between them stretched.

She felt a twinge of disappointment. Why couldn’t it have been easy?

She moved her glass, knocking her napkin off the bar. ‘Oh,’ she breathed, turning slightly and watching it flutter to the floor.

Cade looked up from the napkin he was doodling on, cast a look down at hers and bent down, snatching it with his long fingers. He lifted it and his gaze to her. ‘You dropped this—’

She met his golden eyes, a smile creeping unbidden to her lips at the surprise in them.

Point one for his act of surprise.

He handed her the napkin, his gaze skittering over her. ‘Aren’t you the woman with the cute pick-up line last Friday night at Harry’s?’

She nodded.

‘What did you say?’ he said, narrowing his eyes and pointing his pen at her.

She lifted a hand. ‘Oh, no. Don’t—’ The last thing she wanted was to revisit that embarrassment.

‘That I’d been in your dreams?’ he offered warmly, his gaze fixed on her face.

She shook her head, trying to laugh. ‘Okay, now it sounds ten times more corny than it did then.’

He laid the napkin on the bar, swinging his stool to face hers. ‘Fancy meeting you here.’

‘Yes.’ What else could she say? Certainly not the corny line she’d rehearsed about fate.

Cade rubbed his jaw, as though warring with himself. ‘Look, I’m sorry about leaving so abruptly.’

She waved her hands to stop him. There was no need to get down on tape that particular disaster. ‘What are you drinking? Can I buy you a drink?’

The barman delivered his Scotch. ‘Mr Taylor Watson?’

Cade glanced at the guy. ‘Yes.’

‘Message for you,’ the barman said, handing him a piece of paper.

Cade scanned the paper.

This was it. The message regarding his fiancée, saying she’d had to cancel on him, leaving him free to explore her…

She crossed her fingers on her lap, sending a prayer upward. This had to work. ‘Can I buy you that drink?’

Cade brandished his glass. ‘Thanks, but look, I’m sort of attached…’

Roxanne’s chest tightened. What now? Did that win him the grand prize of Heather Moreton?

She wasn’t used to this. This wasn’t her. She’d never initiated a date or anything with a guy. She’d taken the easy route, waiting until they showed interest in her and she was in the position of saying yes or no to them, not this way round.

She wasn’t good with rejection.

‘I hear the restaurant is good here,’ she offered, swinging back to her drink and taking a gulp. Better that she look uncommitted to the outcome…and better make sure that she appeared to have the message loud and clear, on tape.

Solid proof for the client.

‘Yes, it’s one of the best,’ he said easily. ‘The spinach and feta cannelloni is extremely nice…it’s my favourite.’

She turned to him, daring to look at the guy again. What the heck. If she wasn’t going to go all out tonight and test the man, she never would. ‘I love Italian.’

‘Me too.’

A silence descended between them. He seemed happy to sit quietly with his drink while she tortured herself over what in heaven she’d say next to get the job done right.

‘Nice weather we’re having,’ she offered, her cheeks heating annoyingly, lifting her gaze to meet his as the book said to do.

‘Yes.’ He smiled. ‘If we’re lucky it’ll rain all week while we work and be sunny for the weekend.’

‘You have plans?’ she blurted. ‘For the weekend?’ She glanced back at her drink and started plucking the rest of the fruit off the rim. ‘Not that I’m thinking of going wherever you do to initiate another very embarrassing conversation with a total stranger…’

He laughed. ‘I can’t say I thought that for a moment. There’s an exhibition at the gallery in the city with photos of architectural periods in the twentieth century.’

Roxanne nodded, thankful for the rescue from a fit of babbling that she could have drowned herself in. ‘Sounds interesting. I like the baroque period myself, but I’m guessing it’s a bit old to make it in.’

He raised his brows, nodding. ‘There are some baroque-like influences in the twentieth century architecture. There’s that building in the city—’ He stopped short, jerking his attention to his glass, swirling the contents.

She leant towards him. ‘What?’

He looked up, meeting her gaze. ‘Sorry. I get carried away.’

The urge to touch his arm was incredible. She figured that Nadine would have without hesitating, to test the guy, but she was frozen in her seat. ‘I’m interested,’ she said quietly. ‘You’re into architecture?’

‘I’m an architect.’ He offered his hand to her. ‘Cade.’

‘Roxanne,’ she said, joining her hand with his large strong one, slipping her fingers around his palm, absorbing the warmth and the strange tingling sensation.

‘And what do you do?’ he asked, wrapping his fingers around hers and holding.

Roxanne moistened her lips, fighting to stay focused. ‘I’m an office manager. Usually I work for small companies like real estate agents but at the moment—’ She caught herself. Idiot. How could she forget why she was here?

She stared at where her hand was still encompassed by his, his warmth slowly working its way up her arm and spreading through her like sunshine on a winter’s day.

Even if he appeared nice and kind now, he was still a man, like every other man, and would disappoint Miss Moreton…

She met his golden gaze. ‘At the moment I’m fine-tuning my skills at creating embarrassing silences, dishing out corny pick-up moments and collecting incredibly sad and pathetic rejections from really nice guys…who are already attached.’

‘What can I say?’ he murmured softly, the deep rumble of his voice echoing through her as he deftly pulled his hand back. ‘I’m incredibly flattered by your corny pick-up line and the fact that you’d go out of your way to offer it to me. That takes a lot of courage, you know.’

She nodded and took a long drink from her glass, savouring the sweetness and the bite that would make her feel better. ‘I know.’

‘I haven’t noticed any embarrassing silences… The quiet moments in our conversation have been opportunities for me to contemplate how beautiful you are and how many men would fall over backwards to get the sort of attention you’ve shown me.’ He leaned forward a little. ‘Can I ask, why do you feel you need to make the first move? You can’t be short of offers.’

Roxanne stared at him, his words melting over her. He thought she was beautiful? And what was it with him being so nice? This was all wrong.

‘That’s sweet of you, and I’m not short of offers,’ she said smoothly, ignoring the chaos inside her. ‘Just short of the right guys offering.’ She closed her eyes on the vision of a plethora of men and their propositions flooding in on her and just how many had turned into disasters.

She opened her eyes, meeting Cade Taylor Watson’s fine golden eyes that were watching her with a tenderness that belied his words.

Would it be out of the question to keep him if Heather didn’t?

She blinked and took another large gulp of her drink. Where had that come from? ‘And are you committed to someone special,’ she blurted, trying one more time for the coup de grâce, ‘or are you just attached tonight and you’re mostly single, available and looking for a date for the photo exhibition?’

‘I have a date.’

‘But—’ She could feel the icy fingers of rejection sliding through her again, and she didn’t want it, not yet. She wasn’t ready to end this conversation with Cade and give in to the fact that he was actually nice and Miss Moreton could go ahead and marry him. ‘I like you,’ she blurted.

Cade glanced at his watch and stood up, looking down at her, his face sober. ‘I like you too.’

This was it. She mentally crossed her fingers and toes, willing the outcome she was paid to get.

‘You’re a lovely person and I could always do with another friend,’ he offered, his tone soft.

‘Story of my life,’ she murmured. He was the perfect gentleman. She closed her eyes, imagining how thrilled the client would be at the news, fighting the odd sensation trying to smother her.

She’d wanted him to choose her.

If Cade Taylor Watson had chosen her everything would have been okay. She could keep going in life knowing men couldn’t be trusted and make her decisions accordingly. Now she was confused about everything except the fact that Heather Moreton was one lucky woman.

Roxanne felt him stiffen beside her.

She looked up.

His fiancée stood in the doorway, the woman who had his loyalty and his heart.

‘Good luck,’ he said, offering her a small consolatory smile. ‘With everything.’

‘You too,’ she whispered. When was she going to find a man like that to love her with such loyalty and commitment?

Roxanne watched Cade Taylor Watson saunter over to the love of his life, who was watching her with narrowed eyes.

She took a deep, slow breath and nodded, shooting Heather a thumbs up. She was one lucky girl to be marrying a man like that.

Roxanne drank the rest of her cocktail and stood up. The job was over and done with and not a minute too soon. She was getting far too involved in the charade for her own good.

How Heather could even have doubted him was beyond her; Cade was one hell of a guy.

She looked up to the ceiling and put her order in, and the sooner the better. She needed some happiness in her life too.

She only hoped there was another man like him out there for her.

CHAPTER FOUR

ROXANNE sat behind the desk in Nadine’s office, back straight, chin up and eyes forward, counting down the minutes until the client arrived.

She could hear the woman’s high heels on the stairs, could almost hear what she was thinking about the state of the place, the lighting and the lack of paint on the walls in the hall as she came in.

Roxanne flattened down her hair, straightened her shirt collar and placed her hands calmly on the desk. It was time to get this over with, and she wasn’t in any hurry to get into this situation again. Nadine may be suited to the task of testing men, but not her. She was happy to stay in the office where she was safe.

The door opened. Roxanne forced a gentle smile to her face. ‘Good morning, Miss Moreton.’

‘Save it. Just tell me…did you get the dirt on him?’ she barked.

Roxanne stared at Cade’s elegant fiancée. Her three-piece trouser suit was as light as her skin, as pressed and flawless as her hair and as expensive as the jewellery that glittered at her neck, ears and wrists, including an incredible diamond on her ring finger. Cade’s ring.

Roxanne crossed her arms over her chest. ‘Have you considered for a moment that he may be the kind, upstanding, loyal man he appears to be?’

‘I didn’t pay you to find that out.’ She stalked across the room, made a cursory appraisal of the velvet-padded chair and sat down gingerly on it. ‘I paid you to tempt him and I have to say that your red slinky dress was a nice touch. He didn’t stand a chance.’

‘Again, you assume that the man isn’t faithful to you.’ Roxanne rearranged the pens on the desk, annoyed at the woman’s attitude. It was almost as though she wanted him to have cheated on her. ‘I gave you the thumbs up signal,’ she suggested lightly. Had she assumed she’d meant the worst?

‘Yes, I saw…because you got the result.’

‘I got a result, yes.’ Roxanne shook her head. ‘I have to ask, are you just terribly insecure about your own worth…because I’m sure there are attributes that you have that Cade loves you for.’

Roxanne held her breath, watching the woman consider her question, her pinched mouth and drawn brow sending a sliver of concern sliding through her. Maybe she didn’t. Apart from being impeccably neat, with the style of a model and the looks of one…she probably didn’t think she had much else, but Cade obviously did.

Heather waved a hand impatiently. ‘I did not employ you to be a counsellor. I employed you to test my fiancé and find out if he deserves me.’

Roxanne chilled at the woman’s harsh tone and foregone conclusion. ‘You seem to have already made up your mind about him. Can I ask why? Do you have suspicions? A reason not to trust him?’

The woman lit up a cigarette. ‘He’s a man, isn’t he?’

‘Not all men are the same,’ Roxanne blurted, biting her tongue. Was that her talking? After Aaron and David and Steve…

The woman lifted a finely crafted eyebrow. ‘Look, if it’s a question of money I’m quite willing to pay more if you need more time to fashion yourself to be just the sort of woman he’d look sideways at. Or if you feel that the job you’ve already done—and which you’re dragging out—is worth more. Fine, I’ll pay it, just tell me he’s a lying cheat.’

Roxanne stared at the papers in front of her, shuffling them dutifully, knowing full well the only evidence she had was of the man being nice, caring and wonderful, if not a little too kind to strange women at bars.

Miss Moreton stood up, glaring down at her. ‘The wedding is in less than two weeks. Two weeks! Have you any idea how much organisation is in a wedding? How much it costs? How much pressure there is? You have to give me something…anything…’

‘If you’ve got cold feet, maybe you should discuss it with your fiancé,’ Roxanne suggested, tipping her head and trying to make the woman out. It seemed that she only wanted one outcome and that was all she would accept. ‘Rather than go this way.’

The woman stared icily at her. ‘Again, not your business, just tell me what I want to know.’

‘Okay.’ Roxanne lifted the file from beside her, the tape she’d made sitting under it. ‘As you know, I’ve had two encounters with your fiancé and I don’t feel anything more would be gained from another.’

She toyed with the tape. If only she hadn’t been paid to meet with him. ‘I have the conversation recorded for verification.’

Heather snatched the tape off her and stowed it in her bag. She paused, looked up and smiled. ‘I’m paying for it, aren’t I?’

Roxanne froze. The tape…the actual evidence of what didn’t go down. ‘The tape is quite general. He appears to be a complete gentleman in everything he says and does,’ she said carefully, wondering how to break the news that Cade appeared to be everything a woman could want in a man.

‘But—’ Miss Moreton leant her palms heavily on the desk, staring down at Roxanne with eyes blazing.

‘God help me. Tell me there’s a but. I’ve got thirteen days until the wedding. Give me a reason not to marry the man.’

She stared blankly at the woman. ‘Okay.’ Roxanne jerked to her feet, her blood heating at the ridiculousness of the situation. This woman had a really nice guy and she didn’t want him while there were a multitude of women out there struggling to find just that.

Darn it. The woman didn’t want the truth…she only wanted to hear that Cade was a cheat.

What did he see in her? Was this the real woman and he was some masochist or was she two-faced and had taken the poor guy for a ride?

She couldn’t imagine Cade with anyone who wasn’t nice…

Roxanne lifted her chin. Well, she would darned well give the woman what she wanted.

She thrust the file across the desk with an invoice for her time. ‘The man had bedroom eyes,’ Roxanne blurted, meeting the client’s cold hard gaze, knowing that the tape could in no way show it. ‘And the sexiest mouth that he used to his advantage—though not a crime…’

What was she doing?

Giving Heather Moreton what she wanted, what the client wanted, and what every single woman in Sydney would want her to do to free up another nice guy.

‘He sat so close to me his fresh soap and spicy cologne filled my senses—’ She paused and took a deep breath, closing her eyes. ‘And he was radiating pure hot male just waiting for the right woman to come and sate his lust.’

Miss Moreton straightened tall. ‘So he did proposition you?’ she said, her face softening.

Roxanne wet her dry lips, her mind filling with visions of what it would have been like with him if Heather hadn’t been his fiancée.

She glanced at the client who was nodding enthusiastically, her face all smiles at the supposed revelation. Would Miss Moreton hear the truth if she actually listened to the tape in her bag? Probably not with the prejudice she seemed to have.

‘He all but invited me to a gallery,’ she said, finding it easier to embellish the truth knowing it was what the client wanted.

Cripes, Heather almost looked ecstatic at the news. ‘He teased me with his schedule, probably in the hopes that I’d hook up with him later.’ She bit her lip, trying to stop herself.

‘What else?’ Heather barked.

She wanted more? ‘And he failed to mention his engagement to you,’ she said in a rush. ‘And I have to say that we really had a connection, and if you hadn’t come in when you did we probably would have…spent the night together.’

She looked away, embarrassed at the insinuation she’d given. Sure, they would have. He was easy to talk to and she was sure they could have talked all night, but Heather Moreton probably didn’t want to know that.

Miss Moreton nodded, a thin smile stretching across her face. ‘Good. Good.’ She gave the invoice a glance, bent over and wrote a cheque, her grin widening. ‘I should have known you were a professional. I was a bit worried last week but you came through.’

‘Here to help,’ Roxanne said tightly. This was absolutely crazy. The man was a saint and a wonderful guy…but if this woman didn’t see that, didn’t want to see that, then she didn’t deserve him.

Cade deserved true love and happiness, not to be married to a witch who didn’t even want him.

She leant back in her seat watching the woman, with her perfect head held high and her grin a mile wide, straighten up and saunter out of the office.

Roxanne then stared at the cheque on the desk, gnawing on her bottom lip. She had done the world a favour. She’d saved a really nice guy from a fate worse than death and liberated a bachelor for some grateful woman somewhere who’d treasure him.

She didn’t know what Heather Moreton’s problem was, but it was solved now. For better or for worse, Cade was free.

Cade leant against his car, waiting for Heather. It wasn’t typical for her to change their plans, let alone bring them forward. Backward, yes. She’d done that a fair bit over the past few weeks, but she’d never made it sooner.

He rubbed his jaw. She probably just wanted to talk about the wedding. The last-minute plans, including whether he’d done his bit in organising the honeymoon.

She needn’t have worried. He had it all covered.

Maybe she wanted to talk about Roxanne.

He’d felt all last night through the meal the weight of the unsaid between them. It didn’t feel right that she could ignore what had happened.

She’d had every opportunity to question his affection for her after seeing him with Roxanne at the bar, the same woman she’d seen him with the other day.

Did she trust him that much?

Did she love him that blindly? Hell, he was a fool. How could he doubt his own affection for his fiancée now…when she was obviously so in love with him, and just weeks before the wedding?

She loved him.

It was in everything she did. The time she spent with him and his friends. The time she took out of her busy schedule to visit his family. The time she was taking away from him to make their special day unforgettable.

How could he even spend a moment thinking about the woman in red at the bar?

He sighed. He couldn’t believe how the communication between him and Heather had gone awry that day. He was sure her message had been that she couldn’t make it. Then she’d turned up out of the blue.

She must love him so much to get out of some meeting to spend time with him. And he was making an idiot out of himself.

Maybe it was just cold feet. Nerves. The last fantasy of an engaged man…with under a fortnight to go until he walked down the aisle.

He sucked in a deep breath and pushed down his negative thoughts. He should concentrate on spending all the time he could with Heather, focusing on her needs, helping her with their wedding plans and being her rock.

She was doing so much for them both, and the time she spent away from him was probably as hard on her as it was for him…when they needed to spend time together and affirm their connection.

He crossed his arms and leant back, leaning on his car, surveying the basement garage of Heather’s apartment complex. She’d probably realised it herself and needed to see him tonight…for him to hold her and tell her how much he wanted to marry her, for her to tell him how much she loved him.

Cade sighed. No doubts and no distractions would be nice until the wedding, but he knew that life rarely worked like that.

It had been a funny thing to meet that stunning woman again. He’d thought meeting a woman like that last week had been special, fated, a sweet reminder of all the things he had to look forward to with Heather, once they were married.

He’d wondered about her all weekend, considering what the story might be behind her making the first move.

There was no reason why a woman that beautiful had to go putting herself on the line to find nice men.

Hell, were nice men blind?

To meet the mystery woman again had been surreal. She was so different. Intriguing. And damned hard to get out of his mind.

‘Cade,’ Heather barked, striding towards him, stunning in a white three-piece suit, her hair curled up and her lips pulled thin.

Cade frowned. He’d never heard that tone before—hard and icy—she must have had a rough day and needed him all the more.

‘Heather.’ He opened his arms for her warm embrace but she stopped two paces too short, her face sober, her eyes narrowed. ‘What’s wrong?’

She grasped the engagement ring he’d given her, yanked it off her finger and held it out to him, her palm flat. ‘I’m afraid the engagement is off.’

‘Off?’ he echoed, peeling himself off his car and standing tall, staring at the ring in her hand, his mind tumbling around for the significance in her words. Was she being serious?

‘Off,’ she snapped, shoving the ring into his jacket pocket and shrinking back as though she was loath to touch him. ‘I don’t want to marry you any more.’

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