Page 22 of Signed, Sealed, Married

‘We need to spend time together inpublic. The point is for people to see us together.’

‘Precisely.’ His voice was a low throb that sounded suspiciously like a purr of satisfaction. Instead of moving back he stepped in, his hand on her upper arm, turning her so they faced each other, side on to the shore. ‘That’s what we’re doing now.’

‘If you mean the crew, I don’t think—’

‘Not the crew. The photographer on the speedboat out to my right. Don’t look!’

His breath feathered her hair like a caress and though his hold on her arm was light, she felt its imprint through her jacket.

She didn’t look at the speedboat, because strange ripples coursed under her skin, radiating from where he touched her. Her heart did an unfamiliar tumble turn, knocking hard at her ribs.

How could she worry about a photographer when every instinct told her Adam Wilde was far more dangerous to her well-being?

Fear at her unheralded reactions made her voice harsh. ‘I’ve already seen the boat. How do you know there’s a photographer? No one knows we’re here. In Nice we mingled in the crowd. The chances of a photographer being here as we arrive are slim.’

‘It didn’t just happen.’ His mouth was flat. ‘You didn’t see the paparazzo at the marina? He was staking out the yacht and didn’t make much effort to hide the fact he was taking pictures of us.’

Gisèle opened her mouth to protest that he was paranoid, then stopped. She caught another glint of sunlight on glass. The speedboat had pulled up nearby, closer than seemed normal.

Adam Wilde was a phenomenally powerful businessman. His every move was fodder for the press, both in the business and the social pages. Naturally the media wanted to discover why he was in Europe.

Her heart sank. Had they argued on the marina? What had been their body language?

The last thing she needed was for Julien to see images of them arguing. It would make their supposed romance even harder to explain. Already she dreaded lying about it.

‘You didn’t think to warn me?’ She spoke through gritted teeth.

‘Would that have helped?’ The lift of one supercilious eyebrow was sheer provocation. ‘I can feel the tension in you now. The last thing I needed was for the photographer to pick up on that at close range.’

‘Hence this show of solicitude.’ She nodded towards his hand, still on her arm.

Nowshe remembered the conversation on the dock. She’d been surprised at how open he’d been about himself. His admission that he’d never been sailing until adulthood. The detail about growing up in a small town. And the revelation that he despised rich people who thought their money made them special. That had obviously been a hot button for him, which made her wonder more than ever about his reasons for pursuing this marriage.

Had he been pandering to her curiosity, hoping any photographs would show her absorbed in his words?

She felt used. He’d duped her. Then she recalled her reaction when he’d admitted to having had her investigated. If the paparazzo had been photographing them there, he couldn’t have missed her outrage.

She was torn. Pride made her long to make Adam’s takeover of her business and her life as difficult as possible. But love for her brother demanded she play a woman gullible enough to fall for this man, so Julien would believe in their sham marriage.

‘What’s the matter, Adam? Are you worried any photos taken in Nice might reveal things you’d rather the press didn’t see?’

His eyes glittered and his smile acquired a hungry edge that made Gisèle still.

It wasn’t the look of a businessman but a hunter, and it stirred something that might have been fear but equally could have been excitement.

‘No. As far as the press is concerned it’s early days in our relationship. We’re getting to know each other. But it would be helpful—to both of us—if they saw something that hinted at the direction our relationship is heading.’

‘What?’ She tilted her jaw, determined to show she wasn’t afraid, despite her dry throat and the fretful rhythm of her pulse. ‘Like me signing a fifty-page prenup? I’m sure they’d find that romantic.’

His laugh, a mellow, dark chocolate chuckle, surprised her. She stared at the strong column of his throat and the angle of his jaw as his head tilted back and his amusement spilled around her.

Why couldn’t he have a hyena’s laugh? Or an ugly honking guffaw?

Why did the sound fall gently around her, inviting her to join his amusement? For, she realised as their gazes locked, he wasn’t laughing at her but himself.

No, no, no!A single positive characteristic didn’t outweigh all the negative. Just because he had a sense of humour...

‘I like you, Gisèle. You’ve got gumption.’

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