Will blackmail keep them together or separate them forever?
Wife wanted - no sex necessary is the perfect job for Tara Palmer. For commitment-phobe Cole Charteris, the word marriage isn't in his vocabulary until he meets Tara, the woman who answers an advertisement to pose as his fiancée. But playing a loving couple when there's no love, only blackmail doesn't make for love everlasting.
She sensed him at first. Bold and assessing. A lion on the prowl.
Swiveling in her chair, Tara searched the vast marble lobby of Charteris Developments for the man responsible for the unrestrained panic channeling through every fiber of her being.
Dark chocolate eyes, deep and mysterious stared blatantly back, the stranger's interest apparent. One ebony brow arched and the corners of his full mouth curved upwards slightly. It sent a prickling awareness creeping up her spine, when she should be thinking of something else—and definitely not lust! The hunt for the dreaded dollar should be foremost in her mind right now, not eye candy.
The air around her thickened with a scandalous lustful heat. Palpable. So real, she believed she could almost reach out and touch it.
The man picked up his briefcase and her gut clenched into a rigid knot. She swallowed hard. Surely he wasn't coming her way. Sparks of heat cascaded through her veins and the hairs on the back of her neck tingled. Flustered, she quickly turned away and yanked her jacket across her chest as if to protect herself.
From what...or should that be whom?
The answer was easy. From herself.
She waited. Nothing happened.
Tara should have known better, but heck, what's a girl to do when she sees the hunk from heaven. She couldn't help herself. With utmost care, and not wanting to arouse his attention, she glanced over her shoulder, seeking him out, again.
Big mistake. Huge!
He was still there. Still staring. Still smiling.
Stupid. Don't draw attention. Don't look.
She dropped her gaze and self-consciously fiddled with her purse. She had to get away. Lurching from the low-slung leather chair she fled, locking eyes on the lift, willing it to stay open. Heat burned in her chest and her heart raced. She knew without turning his gaze hadn't shifted. It bored into her back even as she sped away, teasing, and absolutely tempting her to stop, turn round and look back.
Desperate to put space between her and the dark eyed stranger, afraid of the intense sexual tension his direct gaze created, Tara kept going.
She didn't want to feel it. How could a stranger create such an impact? It scared her.
Then it happened.
Two feet from the lift doors—thankfully still open—she tumbled to the ground in a heap.
"Do you need some help?"