‘If we’re going to do this thing we really ought to know each other’s names.’ Stepping forward, she put out a hand. ‘Hi, I’m Emily Applegate.’

He took her hand, enveloping it in his own work-roughened one, and squeezed hard, coating her hand with grease so their fingers slipped against each other.

‘Theo Berkeley.’

‘Okay, Theo, if you promise to pull out all the stops and let Lula hold her wedding here—including the use of your family chapel to hold the ceremony in if she wants to—we’ve got a deal.’

He gave her a discerning look. ‘I’d have to square that with the vicar.’

‘Then square it.’

He snorted in incredulity. ‘She must be a very good friend.’

‘She is.’

She’d swear that she glimpsed the glimmer of a smile in his eyes. So there was some life in there. He might come across as cold, and as hazardous as liquid nitrogen, but she could sense there was a lot going on under that tough surface. She’d bet her life on it.

The idea of breaking through the frigidity to uncover it made her whole body tingle with excitement.

‘Okay, Theo, let’s do it. Let’s get romantic.’

Dear Reader

This is the second part of the first duet I’ve ever written—and I had so much fun with it! After she made a rather striking appearance in FIRED BY HER FLING, as Lula’s best friend, I was desperate to give Emily her own happy-ever-after, and in BRIDESMAID WITH ATTITUDE I got my chance.

Emily is the epitome of an anti-heroine: she’s bolshie, a little on the self-centred side, and very determined to get what she wants—no matter what it takes to get it. And I love her. She’s had a very tough upbringing, but she hasn’t let it beat her down, and even though it’s made it hard for her to let people get emotionally close she lives her life to the max.

In order to force her out of her self-protective bubble she needs a hero with a determination to equal her own—and in Theo she finally meets her match.

These two challenge each other in ways they’ve never experienced before, and through dogged persistence—and some truly testing events—together they finally manage to overcome their worst fears and emerge on the other side as stronger, more confident and much happier people.

I hope you enjoy their journey as much as I did.

With best wishes

Christy x

BK (Before Kids), CHRISTY MCKELLEN worked as a video and radio producer in London and Nottingham. After a decade of dealing with nappies, tantrums and endless questions from toddlers, she’s come out the other side and moved into the wonderful world of literature. She now spends her time writing flirty, sexy romance with a kick (her dream job!).

Christy loves to hear from readers. You can contact her at christy@christymckellen.com, through her website, www.christymckellen.com, via Facebook, www.facebook.com/christymckellenauthor, or on Twitter, www.twitter.com/christymckellen

Bridesmaid with Attitude
Christy McKellen

www.millsandboon.co.uk

This one is for my fabulous courtesy cousins, Vanessa and Fiona, two of the strongest, smartest and kindest women I’ve ever had the pleasure to know.

Table of Contents

Cover

Excerpt

Dear Reader

About the Author

Title Page

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

EPILOGUE

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

EMILY APPLEGATE SWUNG her motorbike in through the open gates of the grand Buckinghamshire estate and screeched to a halt in the car park allocated to visitors, snatching the keys out of the ignition and dismounting in one smooth, practised movement.

Leaving her crash helmet swinging from the handlebars, she marched up the sweeping driveway towards the imposing Elizabethan mansion that sprawled like a hubristic monarch before her.

The heels of her biker boots dug into the golden gravel with a satisfying crunch as she made a beeline for the front entrance.

She was going to have someone’s head—namely the stuck-up Lord of the Manor who’d had the gall to cancel her best friend’s booking to use this grand house for her wedding reception only one month before the wedding.

Ignoring the glares of the two imperious-looking stone lions that guarded the door, she raised the heavy brass knocker and hammered it down hard three times, the tension in her fists matching the determined clench of her jaw.

You did not do that to a bride-to-be. Especially not someone as sweet-natured as her best friend Lula. The poor woman didn’t need complications like this right before the most hotly anticipated event of her life.

She knew from numerous tipsy conversations with Lula over the years that her friend had been dreaming about her wedding day for ever. In fact the fantasy of happy-ever-after had been the thing that had helped keep her friend positive through an emotionally isolated youth with parents who didn’t give two hoots about her.

Their miserable childhoods had actually been the common denominator they’d bonded over after meeting at university, and the fact that they understood and identified with each other’s pain had kept them bound together ever since.

It was funny how they’d reacted to their loveless childhoods in totally different ways: Lula had been determined to marry well, and was convinced her life would be complete once she did, whereas she was determined never to rely on a man to make her happy.

The men she’d had relationships with over the years had only ever been interested in her as a good-time girl anyway; but that suited her fine. All she wanted were good times. There had already been enough bad to last her a lifetime.

And, anyway, she dealt with enough stress fighting to maintain her public profile as host of the popular TV show Treasure Trail. She certainly didn’t need the added hassle of worrying about whether or not a guy was going to call her on top of that.

Not that she believed every man in the world was more trouble than he was worth. To give him his due, Emily knew that Lula’s husband-to-be, Tristan, would have been here to sort this mess out himself if he hadn’t been away in China on business. He was a good guy. One of the very few she’d met. She was glad to have the opportunity to step in on his behalf to help her friend with this crisis today. Lula wasn’t exactly a big fan of confrontation—in fact, she knew the thought of coming here herself would have made her friend feel physically sick.

She missed their closeness now that Lu had Tristan to confide in. Lula was the only person in the world who really knew her—who really loved her for who she was—and she wanted her friend to know just how much that meant to her.

How much she meant to her.

She waited for a few more tense seconds before hammering on the door again, the noise making a dull reverberating echo somewhere deep in the heart of the building.

It sounded very empty in there.

A bit like its owner’s head.

After another minute of frustrated knocking she became aware of a low rumbling noise coming from somewhere behind her. Turning to locate its source, she noticed an open door in one of the mews buildings that must have once been the stables for the estate.

Perhaps there was a groundskeeper in there who could point her in the direction of the troublesome toff of an owner, so she could let His Lordship know exactly what she thought of him for so casually ruining her friend’s wedding plans.

As she approached the open doorway she could make out the figure of a man bent over some kind of industrial-looking machine as he worked with a large piece of sheet metal. She couldn’t see his face clearly, because he was wearing Perspex goggles to protect his eyes and his jaw was covered in what must have been a week’s worth of stubble, so her gaze roamed instead over the oil-stained white cotton T-shirt that stretched across his broad shoulders, then moved back up to his head of sandy brown hair that fell across his forehead in artful clumps, as if he’d deliberately styled it that way—although, based on the rest of his dishevelled appearance, she very much doubted that he had.

She watched with interest as he took a step to the left and seamlessly switched tools, the hand-held machine sending out a shower of sparks that filled the air with silvery-blue shooting stars.

There was no point in trying to grab his attention with all the pyrotechnics going on, so she settled in to ogle the rest of him instead, taking a moment to appreciate the strong contours of his frame: the dip of his waist leading to the lean line of his hips and the long, muscled legs encased in oil-stained, multi-pocketed combat shorts. She could see a spanner sticking out of one pocket, and what looked like a piece of torn sandpaper out of another.

Her gaze dropped further as she noticed a line of dripped grease on one of his robust-looking calves, and she fantasised for a second about what it might feel like to slide her fingertips over the oily toned muscles there.

She shivered in imagined anticipation.

There was something insanely hot about this man, looking all roughed up and dirty as he did, and a low, familiar throb began its beat between her legs.

Judging by her body’s fiery reaction to him, it had clearly been far too long since she’d last had sex. After spending the last couple of months working flat-out filming her show, not allowing any distractions to tempt her, this guy appeared to have rekindled her voracious sexual appetite, and it was now back with a vengeance.

The sparks and noise stopped abruptly and he turned away from the machine to lob a heavy-looking clamp onto a bench to the side of him, where it bounced and settled with a loud clunk-clank.

Something was clearly bugging him today too, if the tension in those work-honed shoulders was anything to go by.

The hairs on the back of her neck lifted as she became aware that he’d finally noticed her standing there and had shoved his goggles to the top of his head so he could give her an impatient glare, one eyebrow raised in apparent annoyance at her unexpected appearance.

Looking at his face, now it was revealed in all its glory, she noted that he wasn’t what she’d describe as classically handsome—he was a little too rugged, his features too irregular—but there was something darkly appealing about him. Something dangerous. Something devilish.

‘Can I help you?’

His voice was low and husky, but it had the clip of good breeding about it. Perhaps the owner only employed people from the upper classes here, to make him feel more cocooned in his embarrassment of riches.

‘I’m looking for the idiot who owns this place. Any idea where I can find him?’ she said, flashing the guy a winning smile and walking further into the room. Just because she was mad at his boss it didn’t mean she couldn’t be friendly with him.

He pulled a rag from his back pocket and wiped his hands on it while he seemed to consider her question. ‘What do you want with him?’ He looked back up to meet her eyes, his gaze shrewd, as if he knew exactly what she’d like to do with him.

His eyes were the colour of the lichen that had used to grow on her family’s Cornish beach house—a dense kind of greeny-grey with a hint of gold.

‘From the tone of your voice, I’m guessing it’s nothing good,’ he added, shoving the rag back into his pocket, making the lean muscles in his arm twist and flex in the most appealing manner.

Shaking her head, she attempted to break the core-tightening hold he had over her and casually leant one hip against the workbench to steady herself. ‘I’d rather save my wrath for the man in question. He has some serious grovelling to do.’

He raised one eyebrow. ‘Intriguing. I’m sure he’ll be delighted to facilitate your every whim.’ The sarcasm in his voice was so heavy it could have sunk ships.

A loyal employee, then.

She shrugged, giving him a playful grin. ‘He’ll be fine as long as he gives me what I want. Otherwise I’m gonna have to tear him a new one.’

He raised both eyebrows this time. ‘Sounds like I could be done for aiding and abetting a crime if I tell you what you want to know.’

‘Don’t worry—I won’t implicate you.’ She dipped her chin and gave him a wink. ‘It’ll be our secret.’

‘How very generous of you,’ he drawled, still not breaking a smile.

Man, this guy was seriously tough. And hot. And distracting her from her reason for being here.

‘So where is His Lordship?’

Pulling the goggles from the top of his head, he tossed them onto the workbench next to her, not breaking eye contact for a second, his expression remaining impassive. ‘Actually, you’re supposed to address me for the first time as Lord Berkeley, and then as My Lord after that.’

She felt as though her legs had been taken out from under her. ‘You? As in, you’re the Earl of Berkeley?’

What were the odds of Lord Snooty being so gorgeous?

He held out both hands in ironic surprise. ‘What’s the matter? Don’t I look the part?’

She snorted. ‘Not even close. Where’s your paunch? Where’s your receding hairline? You don’t even have a ruddy nose or an inappropriate leer.’

‘I’m sorry to disappoint you.’

‘I never said anything about being disappointed.’

His brow pinched into a scowl and it suddenly occurred to her that she was flirting with the scoundrel who was messing with Lula’s happiness when she should have been ripping him limb from limb.

‘Although I am mad at you for ruining my best friend’s wedding,’ she added, perhaps a little too late to make much of an impact.

Advancing on him now, she raised an accusing finger and pointed it at the centre of his broad chest.

‘What the hell do you think you’re doing, cancelling her booking a month before the wedding? Do you have any idea how happy she was to secure this place for her reception, especially after all the hoops you made her jump through?’

He opened his mouth to speak, but she wasn’t finished with him yet.

‘Is this about money?’ She ran her gaze over his dishevelled appearance. ‘Has someone offered you more for that date? Because if that’s the case you should be ashamed of yourself. You can’t play with a woman’s hopes and dreams like that; it’s sheer cruelty!’

He sighed and leant back against the workbench, crossing his arms and making his muscles bulge under his tight-fitting T-shirt. ‘She hasn’t been gazumped.’

‘Then why? Why would you do that to her?’

‘Unforeseen circumstances.’

‘What circumstances could be serious enough to ruin someone’s wedding day over? She chose this place in good faith. You signed a contract.’

‘Which gives me the option to cancel a month before the event. She’ll get her money back.’

She took another step forward, going for coolly menacing, but he didn’t move a millimetre. There wasn’t even a flicker of a reaction on his face.

Her heart-rate picked up, chasing adrenaline though her body. This close to him she could make out the scent of grease and hard work that radiated from him, and it was doing something crazy to her libido.

What was it about this mixture of good breeding and rough façade that sent her into such a spiral of lust? Perhaps, having lived and mostly worked in London for so many years, she was too used to being surrounded by metrosexual men—men who would be horrified by the thought of being caught looking so unkempt. There was something oddly refreshing about this guy not appearing to give a fig about his appearance. He’d made no move to tidy himself up at all. He didn’t care what she thought.

She kind of liked that.

Focus, Emily.

‘All right, Lord Berkeley, it’s not as simple as getting her money back and you know it. She’s already sent out the invitations. People are coming from as far away as Australia. They’ve booked very expensive flights. And she’s already confirmed food with the caterers, booked the cushion-fluffers and the petal-tweakers—the whole crazy shebang. She’s been planning this day for a whole year. You’re going to ruin the best day of her life.’

‘She’ll find somewhere else.’

Something flickered in his eyes and he looked almost regretful for a second, until he drew the angry shutters back down on his expression again.

Emily huffed out a disbelieving laugh. ‘She can’t arrange another reception venue now; there’s nowhere decent left to host that many people at such short notice.’

‘That’s not my problem.’

She clenched her fists in frustration, feeling her nails dig into her palms. Clearly he was going to be a tough nut to crack.

Okay, time to change tack and crank up the charisma she was so famous for.

Reaching out, she laid a palm against the rock-hard wall of his chest, right over where his heart would have been located if he’d had one, and brought out the big guns, giving him her most coquettish look. ‘Is there some other way I can persuade you to change your mind? It would mean the world to her—and me—if you could find a way to let her have her reception here.’

She watched in surprise as he put his hand over hers, curled his fingers tightly around it and pulled it away from his chest, dropping it the second it was clear of his body. There was no gentle regret in the move; it was a pure and resolute rebuffal.

The rejection rankled. Men never normally turned her down when she was in full flirt mode. She understood the power she wielded with her face and her body and had utilised it well over the years.

Narrowing her eyes, she pulled back her shoulders and squared up to him. ‘I don’t get it—what’s really going on here?’

He frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

‘There’s more to this than sheer bloody-mindedness. It smells all wrong.’

His expression flashed with contempt. ‘Because I won’t submit to your womanly wiles?’

Hot indignation bubbled in her stomach, chased by a sting of mortification at being outed so bluntly. ‘Because no one could be so evil as to mess with someone’s wedding day without a really good reason.’

He snorted and pushed off from the bench, brushing past her to walk over to the other side of the room.

The brief contact made something pulse and tighten deep in her pelvis.

‘It’s out of my hands,’ he said, his back to her, his upper torso tensing as he braced both arms against the window ledge and stared out through the glass. ‘This house belongs to my mother, although she lives in Spain at the moment and is “allowing” me to live here until I inherit.’

His shoulders seemed to tense even more.

‘She came over to England a few days ago, stuck her nose in here while I was away and discovered that I’ve been hiring out the place for wedding receptions without her consent.’ He turned back to face her and she saw a flicker of embarrassment in his expression. ‘She harangued my events manager until she gave up the details, then phoned around and cancelled all future engagements. I lost my phone in a cab while I was away, so I only found out about it when I got back last night.’

Emily stared at him in disbelief. ‘Why would she do that?’

He sighed and rubbed a hand over his forehead, leaving streaks of grease over the ridges of his frown. ‘She’s punishing me for not bending to her will. She thinks I should be married by now and providing her with a clutch of adoring grandchildren.’ His voice dripped with scorn. ‘She’s worried she’s falling out of social step with the cronies she spends all her time lunching with.’

‘And you’re going to let her get away with it?’

His gaze snapped to hers and the indignation in his glare made a shiver run down her spine. ‘You think I have any choice in the matter?’

If he thought he was going to get her to back down by being hostile he could think again. ‘Why didn’t you tell her about holding the wedding receptions here?’ she asked, keeping her voice firm.

He sighed and swiped a hand through the air in irritation. ‘Because I knew she’d put the kibosh on it. She considers the idea of making money out of the estate crass, and the notion of her son actually working for a living and “associating with riff-raff”—her words—horrifies her. I should be acting all lordly and extending the family line.’

‘Didn’t you see this coming, though? Surely you planned for something like this happening if you were keeping secrets from her? In my experience, secrets never stay buried for long.’

Although she’d somehow managed to keep her biggest secret buried all these years. She knew it was only a matter of time before it reared its troublesome head, though, and then she’d have some explaining to do.

Not that she should be worrying about herself right now. This was about Lula and what needed fixing.

He plucked the spanner out of the pocket of his combats and tossed it into the air, catching it, then tossing it again end to end as he spoke. ‘She’s been threatening to sell this place from under me for years if I don’t fall into line, and I’m guessing it’s all come to a head now because she’s recently split up with her second husband. She’s clearly bored with not having anyone to order around any more, so she’s decided to spend her time making my life hell instead.’

Emily almost felt sorry for him as she noted the tension in his face. He looked tired—as if he hadn’t slept well.

‘Can’t you reason with her?’ she asked, more gently this time. ‘Ask her at least to wait until after Lula’s wedding?’

‘I tried. No dice.’

‘Is there anything I can do to persuade your mother to let Lula have her wedding here? If you think there is, just name it. I’ll do anything.’ She knew she was beginning to sound desperate, but there was no way she was just going to give in and walk away—not when she’d promised Lula she’d fix this. There was always a solution; sometimes you just had to think outside the box to find it.

He stopped tossing the spanner and fixed her with a seriously unnerving expression. ‘Anything?’ he asked, raising both eyebrows.

She took a breath, wondering what she was about to get herself into. ‘Yes.’

‘Then you’re going to have to fall in love with me.’

Theo Berkeley watched in amusement as a range of expressions ran across the woman’s face—from surprise, to disbelief, to confusion and back again.

She was quite something to look at: tall, with a curvy but well-toned body, and a head of long, blonde-tipped chocolate-brown curls. She also had the most striking eyes he’d ever seen. They looked golden in the meagre light trickling in through the workshop windows, and they glowed with the fiery determination that she’d repeatedly exhibited since walking in here.

She was for real—he could tell.

He’d met women like her before—one woman in particular from his past he’d rather not be reminded of had been very much like her—and it made him wary. So much so that when she’d made that move to touch him he’d instinctively snatched her hand away from his chest, as though it might burn him with the fever he felt flickering away at the edges of his memory.

This woman was dangerous, pure and simple, but he had an idea that he could use that to his advantage if he was careful. He needed someone like her—someone who wouldn’t be afraid to stand up to his mother. Unlike the women he’d most recently dated. If he was going to make the crazy plan he’d been toying with for the last few minutes work, she needed to have the gumption and the initiative to be able to win over his fastidious mother.

Judging by the way she’d stood up to him this woman clearly had those qualities in abundance, and it seemed like a gift from the gods that she’d landed here in his workshop right when he needed her. It was fate.

Either that or he was being seriously punished for something.

She finally seemed to pull herself together and put out a hand to lean back on the workbench behind her, dipping her head and giving him an amused look. ‘You’re kidding, right?’

‘Not kidding.’

‘Why would you need me to fall in love with you?’

‘I don’t, really, but in order to get my mother off my back and be allowed to run this estate as I see fit I need to be able to produce a girlfriend whom she believes is a viable option for future nuptials and the furthering of the family line.’

She gave an exaggerated shudder at his crass analysis. ‘Why do you need a fake girlfriend? Haven’t you got the pick of a harem of women you can call on for just this purpose, My Lord?’

He raised a laconic eyebrow. ‘Earls don’t tend to have harems—you’re confusing us with sheikhs.’

‘And you don’t have a real girlfriend to dangle under her nose?’ she asked.

She was not rising to his sarcasm; which impressed him. Normally women would blush and stutter when he was in an irascible mood.

He gave a terse shake of his head. ‘My life’s complicated right now. I’m trying to build up this business and pay my overheads here. I don’t need the added stress of a relationship.’

She narrowed her eyes, clearly seeing where this was going. ‘But if you did have a girlfriend your mother would leave you alone and perhaps turn a blind eye to you holding wedding receptions here?’

‘She could probably be persuaded to let a good friend of my girlfriend hold her reception here. That she could just about deal with, I’m sure. In fact she’d probably jump at the idea. It would give her a sense of power and control over you, which she could utilise in the future. You’d be indebted to her. She could use that to her advantage.’

She shook her head, her expression radiating disgust. ‘How is she able to have so much power over you?’

‘Because I’ve been disinherited and, according to my late father’s will she legally owns this place and can sell it from under me at any time if the whim takes her. It’s been her bargaining chip since my father died a few years ago. If I don’t fall in line with her grand plans she’ll take away my inheritance. I love this place. It’s been my home since the day I was born and I’m not giving it up that easily. I want to grow my business from here and also raise the funds to be able to renovate the house sympathetically.’

‘Seriously? That all sounds like something from the Dark Ages.’

He shrugged. ‘She’s been trying to manipulate me my whole life.’

‘And you’re not the type of guy to give in to manipulation,’ she stated, giving him a wry smile.

He crossed his arms. ‘I actively rebel against it.’

Her expression became serious. ‘So, let me get this straight. You need to convince your mother that you’re not the closed-off loner she thinks you are so she’ll get off your back and let you live your life of happily single earldom in your mansion with only your tools for company?’

He fought hard against the smile that played at the corners of his mouth. ‘Interesting choice of words, but in essence you’re right on the money. So I need a girlfriend who will satisfy my mother but who won’t expect anything to come from this. We’ll pretend to be madly in love with each other while she’s here visiting—which I’m hoping will only be for the next week or two—then, when she’s safely under the illusion that I’m well on the way to marital bliss and has agreed to give me full control over how the place is run, we’ll be able to call it quits. It’ll be a purely business relationship.’

She widened her eyes. ‘Wow. Cold. I’m guessing lines like that haven’t had the desired effect on the women you’ve dated in the past?’

‘Not exactly, no. For some reason the women I’ve been involved with recently seem to want hearts and flowers from me, and as I’m sure you’ve probably guessed by now, I’m not that kind of guy.’

She smiled. ‘I have. Because I’m not that kind of guy either.’

He snorted. ‘Sounds like we’re meant for each other.’

She looked away from him, crossing her arms and frowning as if she was thinking things over.

‘Surely this plan’s only going to work in the short term? Won’t she quickly move on to nagging you to set a wedding date?’ she asked, fixing him with her mesmerising golden gaze again.

‘Hopefully she’ll be so busy trying to bag husband number three by then she’ll leave me alone a while longer. The rest I’ll have to play by ear in the future. I just need enough time right now to get my business off the ground and start making money. Then I’ll be in a stronger negotiating position.’

The look she gave him was one of respectful awe. ‘Okay, look, give me a few minutes to think over your madcap plan and I’ll get right back to you.’

He raised an eyebrow. The mere fact that she hadn’t already stormed away in disgust was encouraging. ‘Sure. Take your time.’

‘I’ll be back.’

‘I don’t doubt it,’ he said to her retreating figure.

Sighing, he rubbed his hand over his forehead, trying to relieve the achy tension there. The whole ‘madcap plan’, as she’d called it, was a long shot, but anything was worth a punt at this point.

After giving up a well-paid but mercenary job working for a blue-chip engineering firm in London, he needed to be left to his own devices here in order to build up his own fledgling business until it began to turn a decent profit.

The weddings had been a great source of revenue, but he wouldn’t be able to go back to doing them until his mother was satisfied he was on his way to settling down.

What he’d neglected to mention was that the real reason his mother was keeping such a tight grip on his inheritance was because she was afraid he was going to slip back into the dark underbelly of the life he’d wallowed in a few years ago and fritter it all away on drink and fast women. He’d been a major source of embarrassment to her during those years, and she was determined not to allow him to put her through that again. Not that he intended to. Those crazy, hedonistic, sex-and-drugs-filled days were well and truly behind him now.

Turning back to the bandsaw, he ran another sheet of metal through it, finding a calming solace in the screech of the hard materials as they tore against each other.

Most unnervingly, the woman he’d just propositioned reminded him a little too keenly of the women he’d used to play with during that dark time, and he was aware he’d need to keep a firm grip on his impulses if he was going to stay on the straight and narrow with her around.

She had something about her that intrigued him. An iron will not dissimilar to his own.

Flicking off the machine, he put the two pieces of metal onto the workbench and started marking out where he needed to drill holes into them.

If she came back and said no, the only other option was actually to get married, so his mother would reinstate his inheritance—both money and estate—but he didn’t want to do that for a number of reasons, the biggest of which was the fact that he’d never met anyone he thought he’d be capable of putting up with on a day-to-day basis. He liked his space, and he had a horrible feeling a wife would want to mess with his carefully constructed life plans.

It would be a cold day in hell, the day he bent to someone else’s will again.

Emily paced around the well-manicured grounds of the manor house, her brain ticking over like a revved-up engine.

His idea wasn’t totally insane. In fact she was quite excited by the thought of it—and not just because it meant spending more time with this inscrutable, scorching-hot man.

It wouldn’t do her career any harm, being seen to be involved with an earl. Recently it seemed as though the press were growing bored with reporting on her whirlwind affairs with playboys and party animals—the type of men she associated with because they were easy company and didn’t make any emotional demands on her—and she knew in her line of work it was imperative to keep her profile up in the press.

Recently the producers of her show had started to make worrying noises about her no longer fitting the tone of the show, and she’d heard through the production grapevine that they were considering offering her role to Daisy Dunlop—a recently retired athletics runner with a steady home life—once the show moved to the mainstream channel it was touted to be promoted to soon.

There was no way she was letting someone else get their hands on her baby. She’d worked long and hard to get where she was. The show was her and she was the show, and she could fit any box they needed her to in order to keep on hosting it.

It was just a case of proving to the producers that that was the case.

So she needed to clean up her act.

Perhaps serendipitously, Theo could be the answer to her problems. The press would jump on a story about her getting romantically involved with someone with his appeal and social standing, which could be the profile-boosting stunt she desperately needed if she was going to keep her career on the up-and-up.

Logistically it would work fine too. She had a few weeks off while they took a break in filming the show, so she had the time to hang out here with Theo. Despite his grumpy demeanour, she liked him—probably because he wasn’t a push-over—and it wouldn’t exactly be a hardship to hang out at his estate for a week, even if it was under the watchful gaze of his odious-sounding mother.

But most of all if faking her feelings for the Earl meant that Lu could have her dream wedding here then it would all be worth it.

Besides, it could be fun—and she was a big fan of fun.

Striding back into the workshop, she watched Theo for a moment or two, enjoying the spectacle of his lithe to-ing and fro-ing.

She cleared her throat to get his attention and he turned round to face her with a questioning expression.

‘If we’re going to do this thing we really ought to know each other’s names.’ Stepping forward, she put out a hand. ‘Hi, I’m Emily Applegate.’

He took her hand, enveloping it in his own work-roughened one, and squeezed hard, coating her hand with grease so their fingers slipped against each other.

‘Theo Berkeley.’

‘Okay, Theo, if you promise to pull out all the stops and let Lula hold her wedding here—including the use of your family chapel for the ceremony if she wants it—we’ve got a deal.’

He gave her a discerning look. ‘I’d have to square that with the vicar.’

‘Then square it.’

He snorted in incredulity. ‘She must be a very good friend.’

‘She is.’

She’d swear that she’d glimpsed the glimmer of a smile in his eyes. So there was some life in there. He might come across as cold and as hazardous as liquid nitrogen, but she could sense there was a lot going on under that tough surface. She’d bet her life on it.

The idea of breaking through the frigidity to uncover it made her whole body tingle with excitement.

‘Okay, Theo, let’s do it. Let’s get romantic.’

CHAPTER TWO

THEO FELT THE tension he’d been holding on to begin to dissolve as she said the words he’d been hoping to hear.

Still, there was one thing that needed to be established before they embarked on this little adventure together.

‘Before we begin I want to make sure we’ve got this clear, Emily—I help you and you help me, then when it’s over we walk away.’

‘That works for me.’

‘Are you sure? Because I’m not looking for a relationship right now.’

She let out a long breath through her nose, an expression of irritation taking over her face. ‘Neither am I. Like I said, I don’t do hearts and flowers either. It’s not my style.’

The veracity of her statement came through loud and clear in the tone of her voice.

He nodded, feeling reassured that she meant what she said.

‘Just out of interest, why is it up to you to sort out your friend’s wedding venue? Shouldn’t it be her husband-to-be turning up here, bargaining with me?’

She leant one hip against the wall and gave him a look from under her lashes. ‘We thought you’d be more likely to want to sleep with me.’

He rolled his eyes at the trite joke.

‘Seriously, though,’ she said, grinning at his reaction, ‘Tristan’s away at the moment, and Lula has enough on her plate, so as chief bridesmaid I offered to come instead. Because she’s the person I love most in the world. She’s been my rock, and I want to do this for her because I know how devastated she’d be if her wedding plans went awry. She’s had a pretty tough life and she deserves to be happy.’

The determination in Emily’s face clinched it for him and the last bit of tension drained away.

‘Okay, then we’d better get on with it,’ he said, laying down the hacksaw he’d been clutching in his hand. ‘We only have a short time to get to know a bit about each other. My mother’s visiting friends today, but she’ll be staying here later and it’s probably better not to catch her on the hop. She doesn’t like to be put on the back foot. I’ll tell her about you first, and wait for her to insist on meeting you, then I’ll suggest I invite you over tomorrow for Sunday lunch. We’ll start small.’

‘So we’re not going to pretend I live with you here?’

‘No. That would seem suspicious. She’d expect to have heard about you already if you’d moved in with me.’

‘Still, you’d better show me around in case I need the loo or something when she’s here and have no idea where to find it. That might look a little suspicious too.’

‘Good idea.’

Walking over to a small sink in the corner of the workshop, he washed the grease off his hands before turning back and gesturing for her to step through the door. ‘After you.’

They strolled side by side from the workshop to the front entrance of the house, with Emily craning her neck to look up at the impressive E-shaped building, with its gold-coloured stone, mullion windows and carved geometric frontage.

She let out a low, complimentary whistle. ‘It’s quite a pad you’ve got here, Theo.’

He experienced a surge of pride as he took the opportunity to experience the place through her eyes. After living here for the last couple of years, ever since his mother had moved out to go and live in Spain with her new husband, it was easy to look past the magnificence of the place, but he knew how special it was. He felt a deep and meaningful connection to the place, right down to his bones.

While he rummaged in his pockets for the keys she bent down and pretended to pet the stone lions that guarded the door. ‘Hello again, my fine feline friends. Don’t worry—I come here with the full benediction of your owner this time,’ she purred at them.

He had a disquieting moment when he wondered whether he was crazy to put his faith in such an unknown quantity, and had to remind himself that he didn’t exactly have a better option.

Opening the door, he ushered her inside and introduced her to the grand hallway, with its stone-flagged floor, dark wood panelling and arched stone doorways leading off to the downstairs rooms.

‘This is where the tour begins.’

‘Should I take my shoes off?’ she asked, he suspected only half jokingly.

‘No need. Let me show you the rooms down here first.’

He led her through to the drawing-room, then the morning room, pointing out the odd period feature, then the library—his favourite place after the workshop, which smelled like history—then finally the comfortable converted kitchen-diner.

‘Very nice, Theo. I can see why Lula’s so keen to have her reception here. All this dastardly scheming is definitely going to be worth it,’ Emily said as she gazed around at the oak cupboards and bifolding doors leading out to a large tiled terrace which looked over the extensive gardens.

‘Speaking of which—we ought to get on with it,’ he said, aware that they had a lot to cover in a short amount of time.

She nodded. ‘Yeah, if we’re going to make this work we need to keep our stories simple.’

‘Agreed.’

He gestured for her to follow him back out into the hallway.

‘How about we met in London?’ she said, walking to the bottom of the staircase and propping her elbow on the highly polished oak banister. ‘Through a friend from university, perhaps?’

‘That would work. I used to have a job in the City, so she’d buy that.’

‘And we’ve been seeing each other on and off for a year?’

‘Yes. The on and off thing is good. It adds credence to me not mentioning you already. We could have been “off” when I’ve seen or spoken to her in the past.’

‘Okay. Good.’

He nodded towards the sweeping staircase. ‘Come on upstairs with me while I change, and then I’ll show you the bedrooms and bathrooms up there.’

‘Lead on,’ she said, and he felt her following close behind him as he mounted the stairs.

He stopped at the first door off the landing. ‘This is me. I’ll only be a minute.’

‘Okay,’ she said, surprising him by following him inside.

He turned and gave her a questioning frown.

‘I should probably know what your room looks like,’ she said with a pseudo-innocent smile. ‘Just in case.’

He raised his eyebrows but decided not to kick her out.

She had a point.

Emily stopped in the middle of the enormous woodpanelled bedroom and watched Theo disappear through a door on the far side, which she guessed must lead to his en-suite bathroom and dressing room.

‘Take a look around if you want. I removed all the dead bodies yesterday, so I don’t have anything to hide.’

His voice sounded muffled, as if he had his head in a wardrobe. Then she heard the sound of the shower being turned on.

She smiled and did as he suggested, walking around the room and peeking into a couple of his drawers, finding only some paperbacks and a handful of pens in them.

His bed was enormous and comfortable-looking, and made up with what looked like Egyptian cotton sheets and a large duck down duvet. She walked over and picked up one of his pillows, holding it to her nose and breathing in the manly scent of him. It had some kind of exotic undertone, like lemongrass or lime—something fresh and clean like that.

Something delicious.

Her whole body flooded with hot longing as she thought about getting close enough to him to smell it on his body.

The shower was turned off.

Tossing the pillow back onto the bed, she crept over to the door of the en-suite bathroom to see whether she could catch an illicit peek at him as he dried and changed, her nerves humming with anticipation.

‘Find anything of interest?’ he asked loudly, and she took a couple of quick steps away in case he came out and caught her spying on him.

‘Not a thing—you’ve been very thorough,’ she called from the safety of the middle of the room.

There was a pause, then a bang like a door closing, and then he spoke again. ‘You know, I think our biggest obstacle in making this thing work is that my mother’s a snob, and that means any girlfriend I have needs to come from a family good enough to meet with her approval.’

His voice was clearer now, as if he was standing right on the other side of the door.

She’d just opened her mouth to reply when he strode back in, wearing a pair of antique wash jeans and a slim-fitting black shirt, left open at the neck, exposing the deep hollow of his throat.

‘Er … we … er … don’t need to lie about that,’ she managed to utter through a mouth that appeared to have stopped working properly.

He’d been gorgeous in his work clothes but he was absolutely glorious in urban chic, with his damp hair all mussed and falling into his eyes.

He raised a questioning eyebrow and she realised she was staring at him with her mouth hanging open.

‘I mean, I actually do come from a good family and I was sent to all the “right” schools.’ She made the quotes sign in the air with her fingers. ‘Plus, my father’s the CEO of a very well respected accounting firm in the City.’

He nodded. ‘Good, that will make a difference.’

She looked down and kicked at a bit of fluff on the carpet with her toe. ‘Of course I haven’t spoken to him in ages—or my brother, for that matter. He’s been living in Australia for the last six years, so we’re not exactly on great terms. And I guess I need to tell you that my mother’s dead.’

She no longer felt the throb of brutal torment whenever she said those words. They just rolled off her tongue, unencumbered.

It worried her some days how numbed she felt to it now.

‘I’m sorry.’

She looked back up to meet his concerned gaze and gave a twitch of her nose and a shrug of her shoulder to intimate that she was unbothered by it. ‘Don’t be. I’m not some delicate little flower that needs protecting. I can look after myself. Been doing it for years.’

He held her gaze, his brow furrowed as if he was trying to work her out. She stared back at him, determined not to be the one to look away first.

Finally he gave her a sharp nod. ‘Do you want a drink?’ he asked abruptly.

Clearly she’d passed some kind of test. Either that or she’d freaked him out by getting a little too personal and he was backing the hell off. ‘I could murder a vodka and tonic,’ she joked, flashing him a cheeky grin.

He raised an eyebrow. ‘I was thinking coffee. Very strong coffee.’

‘Very strong coffee would work too,’ she said, giving another indifferent shrug.

He snorted gently. ‘Okay, I’ll show you the rest of upstairs, then we’ll go back to the kitchen.’ He walked out of the room, leaving her to follow behind.

She caught him up as he went into the next door along the corridor. ‘Guest room,’ he said, waving a hand around the room.

‘Nice,’ she said, nodding sagely. She wasn’t joking either—the whole place was beautifully done out.

‘So, what’s your big secret, then, Theo? Hmm …? Everyone has one? Let me guess.’ She folded her arms, tipped her head to one side and gave him a contemplative stare. ‘A brood of illegitimate children just poised to crawl out of the woodwork? Or perhaps a mad wife stashed away in the attic?’

‘Unlikely to the first guess and not yet to the second, but I’m sure it’s only a matter of time.’

‘Because you’re bound to drive any woman you get involved with round the bend?’

‘Something like that.’

His gaze raked her face for a moment before the corner of his mouth twitched upwards. It was the closest thing she’d seen to a smile since they’d met and a sense of satisfaction warmed her blood.

He must have been uncomfortable with the change in atmosphere, though, because he brought down the frown again, then abruptly turned and walked out of the room, leaving her to hurry after him.

Back out on the landing, he gestured down the corridor, pointing out the other guest bedrooms and bathrooms, then strode off back down the stairs—presumably to make the promised coffee.

She caught up with him as he reached the bottom step and followed him into the kitchen, where he proceeded to set up the coffee-maker.

Turning to look at her once it was gurgling away, he narrowed his eyes, as if deciding how to put his next statement. ‘Not meaning to be insensitive, but we’d better not go into detail about your lack of family harmony in case my mother thinks you’re after me for my money,’ he said finally.

She snorted and crossed her arms. ‘I don’t need your money. Not with the job I have.’

‘What job is that?’ he asked, leaning back against the counter.

‘You really don’t recognise me? Emily Applegate from Treasure Trail? It’s one of the most popular shows on TV at the minute.’

At least it was on the second-rate channel it ran on—but, to be fair, it was soon to be promoted to the big league. There was no need to mention the small hiccup of the threat of being dropped from the show to him, though. It would only complicate matters, and they’d agreed to keep their stories simple.

He scowled. ‘Never heard of it. I don’t watch television.’

‘You don’t watch television?’ She took an exaggerated step back and threw out her hands in mock shock.

He grunted in response and turned away to pour them both a mug of coffee. ‘I have better things to do with my time,’ he said over his shoulder.

‘Like tinkering with your tools?’

He turned back and handed her a mug, which she took gratefully, inhaling the wonderful aroma deep into her lungs.

‘Like making equipment for people with mobility issues to help give them some freedom,’ he said.

That brought her up short. ‘Impressive.’

He shrugged the compliment off as if it meant nothing and gestured for them both to sit down at the large oak table in the middle of the room.

‘So what led you to the business of making mobility aids?’ she asked, once they were settled.

‘I had an older brother who had severe mobility issues. I used to invent things to help him get around and carry out what we think of as easy day-to-day tasks so he didn’t feel so trapped and frustrated. I found I was good at it, and I enjoyed it, so I went on to study engineering at university.’

‘And your mother was okay with that?’ she asked, blowing across the top of her drink to cool it down before taking a sip.

‘Not really. She wanted me to go into politics. But I studied at Cambridge, and appeared to be rubbing shoulders with the right people, so she let it slide.’

‘Where’s your brother now?’

‘He died when I was twenty. He had a lot of health issues so it was always on the cards.’

‘Sorry to hear that.’

He shrugged and looked down at his coffee. ‘Life can be cruel.’

‘But you’re actively doing something to make a difference to people who’ve caught a bad break—that’s admirable.’

He took a long sip of his drink, his brow furrowed as if he was thinking about what she’d said. ‘I’d like to do more but it’s a long game, building up a business in this tough financial environment. I do a lot of work pro bono, because the people who need help the most are usually the ones that can’t afford it. They often need things custom-made to suit the ergonomics of their house. Everyone’s needs are different. Occupational therapists do a wonderful job, but there’s only so much they can achieve with their limited funding.’

‘Is that why you’ve been hiring this place out for weddings?’

‘Yeah—in an attempt to keep up with the running costs of this place, and my living expenses, until the business starts making money. And also because I like to see the place full of life. It seems perverse for me to be rattling around in it on my own all the time.’

‘If you’re so worried about it being too big and expensive for you why don’t you move out to somewhere smaller?’ she asked, taking another gulp of coffee, enjoying the smoky taste of it on her tongue.

He looked at her as though she was mad. ‘Because this is my ancestral home. It’s been in the Berkeley family for four hundred years. My mother’s not interested in living here any more, and if I wasn’t here she’d probably sell it to the highest bidder. I’m not about to let some money-focused developer get their grubby hands on it and turn it into apartments or a golfing hotel.’ He pulled his face into a grimace.

‘Not a big fan of golfing?’

‘No.’

‘Balls too small?’ She couldn’t stop a wide grin from spreading across her face.

He gave her a warning frown. ‘You’re going to have to watch your mouth around my mother—she’s pretty uptight.’

‘Don’t sweat it. I will,’ she said, draining the last drop of her drink and managing to spill a bit on her top.

‘And you’re going to have to scrub up your appearance in order to impress her,’ he said, indicating her torn jeans, biker boots and the wide-necked T-shirt hanging off one shoulder, flashing her bra strap.

Emily waved a breezy hand in the air. ‘Not a problem. Don’t worry, I’ll have her wrapped around my little finger in half a day, max.’

‘You’re very sure of yourself.’

‘Why, yes I am.’

An expression of approval flashed across his face. ‘I like it.’

She leant forward, narrowing her eyes and forcing her lips into a soft pout. ‘I know you do.’

His approval was quickly replaced with a frown. ‘I’m not going to sleep with you, Emily.’

She let her mouth fall open in exaggerated shock, hoping like mad that he hadn’t caught on to the mortified disappointment that had flashed through her at his abrupt rejection.

‘Why ever not? Surely that’s one of the perks of our arrangement?’

He leant back in his chair and crossed his arms. ‘I don’t make it a habit to sleep with women I’ve just met.’

She gave him a scrutinising look, brazening it out despite the unfamiliar turmoil she was struggling to deal with. Surely she hadn’t lost her touch when it came to charming men? It had never deserted her before. Sex was the one area of her life where she felt she had absolute control, and she wasn’t about to let him chip into it.

‘You mean with women you don’t trust?’

His expression didn’t flicker, but she could tell he was holding something in. It was there in the rigidity of his jaw.

‘What happened to you?’ she asked.

‘Nothing I want to talk to you about.’ He got up and dumped his coffee mug in the sink.

She stood up too and followed him over to the sink, putting her mug next to his and standing a little closer than was absolutely necessary, just to see if she could get another rise out of him. She was having some trouble holding her nerve in the face of his steely resistance, but there was no way she was backing down from it.

Looking up into his face, she gave him a wry smile. ‘Women, huh? We’re nothing but a bunch of harpies and hangers-on.’

The corner of his mouth twitched—she was sure of it.

Score.

‘What are you afraid of?’ she asked, putting her hand on his arm and feeling his tricep tense.

‘I’m not afraid of anything. I just prefer to get to know someone before I have sex with them. It’s a matter of principle.’

She gave a mock teasing pout. ‘Damn your principles.’

He fixed her with a long, hard stare that made her quiver inside.

‘I’m sure you’ll be able to control yourself. And, while we’re discussing it, I want you to agree not to get involved with anyone else while we’re doing this thing.’

‘What?’

‘If you’re on TV there’s a chance the papers might report on any hook-ups you have. I don’t want my mother to hear about them. It would ruin what we’re trying to do here.’

‘So I have to promise to be celibate till this thing is over?’

‘Yes.’

‘And you seriously won’t help me out?’

The impulse to push him into submission was too strong to ignore. She needed to win this now, for the sake of her pride. She ran her fingers gently up and down his arm, feeling him tense even more under her touch.

‘You’re going to leave me in a state of sexual frustration? So cruel!’

He grabbed her arm, wrapping his fingers around her wrist and pushing it against her own body, imposing a barrier between them. ‘I’m sure you can find some other way to satisfy your carnal urges. There are tools for every job. Be creative.’

‘It’s not the same.’

‘You’ll survive.’

She huffed out a sigh, hoping he couldn’t feel the tremble in her hand. ‘Okay, but you have to promise to be celibate too … until this thing is over.’

‘That won’t be a problem.’

She shook her head in disbelief. ‘Are you made of stone or something?’

‘It has been suggested,’ he said, releasing her arm and walking back to the table to push the chairs back under it.

‘Look, if you’re worried this is actually some elaborate plot to trap you into marriage and steal all your money, then don’t be. I have plenty of my own money. I don’t need to steal someone else’s.’

‘It never crossed my mind,’ he said, his back to her.

She couldn’t tell if he was being serious. His tone was so dry it almost cracked the air.

He turned back, his expression closed. ‘We’ve probably got enough information to go on for now,’ he said, ‘and I have things I need to deal with before my mother comes back.’ He pointed a finger at her in a commanding manner, as if she was a naughty puppy. ‘Wait here.’

She watched him stride out of the room, wondering what he was going to fetch. A horse whip, perhaps? Or a pair of shackles? The mere thought of it only intensified the low hum of erotic tension that had plagued her all afternoon.

How could he be immune to the heat between them?

Perhaps she’d pushed him too hard, too fast? Normally it wouldn’t bother her if she made a man uncomfortable with her brazenness, but she didn’t want to jeopardise this thing with Theo.

Truth be told, she was flabbergasted by his assertion that he wouldn’t sleep with her. No one had ever turned her down before, and the challenge of getting him to change his mind had now embedded itself firmly in her mind.

She really wasn’t looking for anything serious, so why the heck shouldn’t they have some fun together? There was clearly a spark of attraction between them, even if he was refusing to acknowledge it.

It wasn’t as if she was under any illusions about where she fitted in the grand theatre of life. She saw herself as the ruthless ex-lover that sweet, wholesome women saved their damaged alpha conquests from. In fact it amused her to think of herself as the facilitator of other people’s Happy-Ever-Afters.

According to the gutter press she had loose morals, but she didn’t cheat or mess around with men already in relationships—that was where she drew the line. She didn’t need undying love from a man; she needed hot sex, excitement and new experiences. The men she dated usually served that requirement, but unfortunately they tended to be self-absorbed and rather vacuous.

Theo was a whole other proposition. Smart, philanthropic and attractive. It was a heady mixture. One she was keen to have a lick of.

He returned a moment later, pen and paper in hand.

‘Write your phone number down on here and I’ll call you later to confirm the details about tomorrow,’ he said, dropping them onto the table.

She dipped into a low curtsey. ‘Yes, M’Lord.’

He flashed her a disparaging look, clearly not in the mood for any more teasing. ‘Let yourself out.’

Swivelling on the spot, he marched away, his feet making a heavy slapping sound on the flagstone floor.

‘You’ve been a great audience,’ she called after him, making sure sarcasm dripped from every syllable.

When she got home to London, the first thing Emily did was call Lula to tell her that she’d ninety-nine per cent sorted out the wedding reception venue problem.

‘Just give me a couple more days and I’ll have it all wrapped up and reconfirmed. Don’t worry, it’ll happen—I’ll make sure of it.’

‘How the heck did you swing it, Em?’ Lula asked, her husky DJ’s voice light with relief.

‘I used my feminine wiles,’ she replied, experiencing a surge of relief to hear her friend sounding so happy again.

‘Please tell me you didn’t sleep with him.’ Lula’s tone was jokey, but there was just a hint of expectancy in it.

‘Of course not. I just made a very good case. He is rather gorgeous, though. In fact he’s asked me out on a date. I’m going over for Sunday lunch tomorrow.’

‘Jeeze, Em, you’re a fast worker.’

‘What can I say? Zee guys, zay luurve me!’

‘So they should. You are a total goddess.’

‘Why, thank you, my darling. Anyway, I’d better scoot—got to get my beauty sleep if I’m going to impress His Lordship tomorrow.’

‘Okay—night, babe.’

‘Nighty-night.’

Emily had just ended the call when another number flashed up on the screen.

‘Hello?’

‘Emily, it’s Theo.’

Her chest did a strange squeezy thing at the sound of his voice. ‘Hi. So we’re on?’

‘I told my mother about you. I said I’d been keeping you quiet because I wanted to be sure about committing to you before introducing you to her.’

‘And?’

‘As predicted, she wants to meet you. I think she’s a little suspicious about how I’ve suddenly produced you out of thin air and wants to make sure she’s not being taken for a ride.’

‘Smart woman.’

‘That she is.’

‘So should I come for lunch?’

‘Yes. Get here for midday tomorrow and be ready to turn on the charm.’

She pinched her nose to make her voice sound nasal. ‘Wilco, My Lord. Coming through, loud and clear.’

‘Emily?’

‘Yes, my darling?’

‘You’re starting to worry me.’

She laughed. ‘Chill out, Your Earlness, it’s going to be fine.’

CHAPTER THREE

THEO WAS FINISHING up a job in his workshop before lunch the following day when Emily strolled in, looking for all the world like a demure, rich debutante in a strait-laced knee-length skirt, smart high-heeled shoes and a soft pink blouse which was buttoned up nearly to her neck. She’d tamed her wild curls into a sleek-looking knot on top of her head and her make-up was subtle and sparing.

She’d tied her personality down tight.

He felt oddly disconcerted by it.

Frustratingly, he’d not stopped thinking about her since he’d left her in his kitchen the day before, forcing himself to walk away from the bone-rattling sexual tension between them before he did something stupid like acting on it.

‘You’re early,’ he said, glancing at his watch to confirm it was only eleven-thirty.

She shrugged. ‘I didn’t want to be late and get off on the wrong foot with your mother.’ She picked up a pair of his goggles from the workbench next to her. ‘I guessed you might be in here, playing with your tools,’ she said, holding the goggles up to her eyes and making a ridiculous-looking face at him.

He rolled his eyes and walked over to grab them from her, dumping them back onto the workbench.

He liked it that she was comfortable enough with her looks to know she could get away with making herself look stupid and not lose any of her appeal, but he didn’t want to encourage her in case she did it in front of his mother. She liked ladies to be just that—ladies—and she wouldn’t see the funny side of any larking about.

The goggles had left a smudge of dirt on Emily’s nose, where they’d pressed against her skin, and without thinking he swiped his thumb gently over it, wiping it away.

She stared up at him with those striking eyes of hers and for a second he couldn’t move. It was as if she’d caught him in a tractor beam.

‘Where’s your mother?’ she asked, her voice low and seductive.

They were standing so close he felt her breath on his skin.

A tug of longing pulled hard, deep inside him. ‘In the house.’

She smelt amazing—like a spring garden in full bloom.

‘We should probably get into character now, then, so we’re comfortable walking in there together,’ she said, and without warning she leaned up and forward on her toes, aiming her mouth to connect with his.

This time he reacted quickly, moving his head away from hers and putting a hand on her shoulder to keep her at a distance.

‘What are you doing, Emily?’

‘I’m greeting you in the manner of a devoted lover.’

‘I don’t kiss women I don’t care about.’ He refrained from adding any more.

Her brow pinched in jokey frustration. ‘You and your crazy rules.’

He couldn’t stop a snort of mirth from escaping. ‘You’re very forward.’

She gave a nonchalant shrug. ‘I like sex and I’m not afraid to ask for what I want.’

‘That much I already know.’

She let out a low sigh and took a step backwards, breaking the connection of his hand on her shoulder. ‘I don’t get it. I’m single, you’re single—what’s the problem?’

‘I told you: this is a business relationship. I’m not looking for it to develop into anything more.’

‘You know, usually the only time men act as if they don’t like me is when they want me but think they’re not allowed to have me.’

He folded his arms in front of his chest. ‘You really believe I think I’m not allowed to have you?’

‘Perhaps. There has to be some deep-seated angst simmering away under that tough outer shell of yours.’

‘Maybe I don’t find you attractive.’

She narrowed her eyes and gave him a discerning smile. ‘Maybe.’

‘Why do you want to sleep with me so badly?’

‘Because you won’t let me.’ Her grin was wide and authentic. ‘I’m just messing with you, Theo,’ she said, slapping him gently on the arm.

He huffed out a laugh and tried to ignore the way his body had hardened in response to her teasing. No way was he letting her get into his head, and he definitely wasn’t interested in allowing her to flatter her way into his bed. He’d been burned like that before.

‘Although I haven’t had sex for months,’ she continued, giving him that coy look she’d tried on him when they’d first met. ‘I’ve been too busy at work to have any kind of fun outside it.’

The heat in his body seemed to increase tenfold. He pushed away the feeling. ‘Speaking of life outside, I checked you out online. You have quite a presence in the gutter press.’

She shrugged and glanced away. ‘I used to. I haven’t done anything outrageous recently, so they’ve grown a little bored with me.’

‘Cleaning up your image?’

Her gaze met his again, square in the eyes. ‘I just haven’t found anyone interesting enough to play with.’

The underlying suggestion of until now hung heavily in the air between them.

He shrugged it off.

‘It might be a sticking point for my mother if she checks up on you and sees the sort of exposure you’ve had in the past.’

‘Surely the fact you’ve tamed the wild child in me will be a plus point? It’s one of those fantasies, isn’t it? A strong alpha male showing a fallen woman that she’s worth more than she thinks she is? Usually by being spectacular in bed,’ she said pointedly, waggling an eyebrow at him.

He snorted and shook his head. ‘What kind of books have you been reading?’

‘Actually, I don’t read as much as I used to. I never seem to have the time, what with my job being so all-consuming. But I have a vivid

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