Contract To Marry

From city girl—to corporate wife!

Working side by side, nine to five and beyond…. No matter how hard these couples try to keep their relationships strictly professional, romance is definitely on the agenda!

But will a date in the office diary lead to an appointment at the altar?

Find out in this exciting miniseries from Harlequin Romance^®.

“I wondered if you did this all the time—for fun,” Darcy said.

Fleur smiled. “I’ve been here a few times.”

“So what do you do, apart from that?” he asked, pointing toward the dance floor packed with writhing bodies, and grimacing.

“Have you ever tried that?” she asked provocatively.

He took the bait. “No, but how hard can it be? Let’s go.” He grabbed her hand and dragged her toward the dance floor.

“Now, this is fun,” he said as he gyrated in time with the music, his body pressed against hers, making her wish the barrier of their clothing would suddenly disappear, leaving them in an intimate embrace of skin on skin.

She pulled away. “End of lesson number one,” she yelled above the music.

“What does lesson two entail?” he asked.

“Maybe it’s best if we save the next lesson till tomorrow?”

“Don’t be boring,” he whispered wickedly, a split second before he slanted his lips across hers.

Contract to Marry
Nicola Marsh

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Nicola Marsh says, “As a girl, I dreamed of being a journalist and traveling the world in search of the next big story. Luckily, I have had the opportunity to travel the world, but my dream to write has never been far from my mind. When I met my own tall, dark and handsome hero, and learned that romance is everything it’s cracked up to be, I finally took the plunge and put pen to paper. I live in the southeastern suburbs of Melbourne with my husband and baby son. When I’m not writing I work as a physiotherapist for a vocational rehabilitation company, helping people with disabilities return to the workforce. I also love sharing fine food and wine with friends and family, going to the movies and—my favorite—curling up in front of the fire with a good book.”

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

EPILOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

FLEUR ADAMS rushed into the café, trying to juggle a portfolio, laptop, umbrella and handbag while shaking raindrops from her curly hair and cursing the fickle Melbourne weather, a lousy public-transport system and men, in that order.

‘Hey, pretty lady. The usual?’ Billy winked at her from behind the counter and gave her an appreciative once-over, typical of his meet-and-greet routine with the female customers.

She smiled in gratitude as the aroma of steaming coffee and freshly baked muffins infused her senses. ‘You’re a lifesaver. Oh, and make mine a double today. I need it.’

‘Too much caffeine will get you all hyped up. So if you need to burn off any extra energy…’

‘I’ll join a gym!’

Billy’s innuendoes had initially rankled when she’d first found the coffee shop though she’d soon realised he was harmless. Besides, he made the best lattes and choc-chip muffins in Melbourne, two major reasons to tolerate his light-hearted flirtation.

‘Oh, well, can’t blame a guy for trying.’ He shrugged and turned to the espresso machine. ‘By the way, Liv’s arrived.’

‘Thanks.’ She scanned the growing lunch crowd and spotted her friend at a corner table, nose buried in the latest romance novel as usual.

Taking care not to decapitate anyone on the way to their table, Fleur slid into a vacant seat and stacked her load against a nearby wall. ‘Let me guess. The tall, dark and handsome hero is about to rip off the heroine’s bodice and thrust his—’

‘No! Romance novels aren’t bodice-rippers. They’re contemporary fiction. How many times have I told you that?’ Liv stared at Fleur over her rimless spectacles, a faint blush staining her cheeks.

Fleur grinned. ‘All those books seem the same to me. Lots of hot action, with the main protagonist being men with broad, naked chests and big—’

‘OK, you’ve made your point.’ Liv snapped the book shut and held up her hand to silence her. ‘Enough of your literary critiquing. How did the presentation go?’

Fleur’s grin faded as the memory of yet another failure flooded back. ‘Don’t ask,’ she muttered, as a waitress placed a giant glass and a muffin in front of her.

‘That good, huh?’

‘Worse.’ Fleur sipped at the latte and savoured the caffeine rush, wishing she’d never quit her reliable, reasonably paid job to chase a dream. A dream that would shortly turn into a nightmare if she didn’t acquire some new business—and soon.

‘No takers for an accountant-cum-life coach destined to revamp businesses and take them into the twenty-first century, huh?’

Fleur shook her head. ‘Not one. Seems like the terms “emotional intelligence” and “compliant oriented teaming” are just too modern for the average CEO. Though one of the senior execs I met this morning did give me a card and encouraged me to call, though I doubt he was interested in anything to do with emotions or intelligence, the way he kept looking at my legs.’

‘Yeuk! Sexist pig.’

‘He wasn’t all that awful, actually…’

Liv’s eyes widened. ‘Now I know you’re in a bad way, letting a lech like that get away with it.’

Fleur sighed. ‘I’m just tired of doing the promotional bit and having nothing to show for it.’ She bit into her muffin, wondering if she’d literally bitten off more than she could chew with her latest proposal.

She’d approached countless companies, many through contacts she’d gained as an accountant, to pitch her idea to them. After completing a part-time degree in psychology, which she’d initially undertaken to break out of the conservative-accountant-stereotype mould, she’d come up with the brilliant concept to change the outlook of most companies, with the hope that improved job satisfaction would lead to increased profit margins. Some of her initial contacts had received the idea warmly; that was, until they actually had to commit money to the project and hire her.

Liv leaned forward. ‘Show me the promotional material you’ve been using. Maybe I can help.’

‘The way things are running at the moment, I need all the help I can get.’ Fleur unzipped her portfolio and grabbed a wad of paperwork. However, as she straightened, her head bumped an elbow and the person it belonged to stumbled against her, sending papers flying in all directions.

‘Dammit!’ a deep voice muttered somewhere in the vicinity of her ear as she bent to pick up the scattered material. ‘Here, let me do that.’

Fleur rubbed her head and straightened up, wishing the stranger had bumped her harder. That way, she could have lost consciousness and woken up hours later, when this all-round dreadful day would be over.

‘Leave it!’ she snapped, looking up at the clumsy oaf who had managed to worsen her mood, if that was possible.

‘Mmm…interesting.’ Surprisingly, the oaf wasn’t staring at her as she’d half expected. After all, she knew that many men found her attractive, though for the life of her she still hadn’t figured out why. Shoulder-length brown curly hair, brown eyes, passable figure, average height—all in all, it didn’t seem like much of a package to her but she worked it to her advantage most of the time.

Instead he stared at her brochures, flicking through each and every one with barely concealed amusement on his face.

‘If you’ve finished?’ She held out her hand, knowing she sounded petulant but not particularly caring. That was all she needed, some guy to patronise her about an idea that meant everything to her.

He looked up suddenly and fixed her with a probing stare. ‘Are you the Fleur Adams mentioned in these brochures?’

And suddenly, just like that, Fleur experienced that strange, fluttery feeling that Liv’s romance novels raved about, that once-in-a-lifetime gut-churning, toe-curling reaction that signalled the one. She gazed at the stranger, wondering at her bizarre reaction, for she wouldn’t call him drop-dead gorgeous or anything remotely as flattering. He had dark hair, blue eyes and a strong, clean-shaven jaw, with lips that were compressed in a thin, seemingly impatient line.

As she’d originally thought, nothing out of the ordinary, except for a strange aura that spelled ‘power’ and captured her attention in a way no man had in a long, long time.

‘Well?’ He quirked an eyebrow as if challenging an imbecile to answer.

Resisting the urge to shake her head and dispel the fog that seemed to have penetrated her brain, she nodded. ‘I’m Fleur Adams. And you are?’

‘Someone who is interested in what you have to offer.’

His glance flicked to the brochures briefly before returning to study her face. ‘Are you sure you’re experienced enough to be offering this kind of service?’

Oh, when it comes to you, handsome, I’ve got plenty to offer.

For a horrifying moment, Fleur thought she’d spoken aloud as his blue eyes blazed with something more than a passing interest in her business. However, it flickered and died before she could analyse it further and she quickly refocused her concentration before she blew this chance encounter completely.

Squaring her shoulders, she looked him straight in the eye. ‘I’m fully qualified, as the information you’ve just perused suggests. If you’re interested, I’d be more than happy to present my ideas to you on a more formal basis, Mr…?’

‘Darcy Howard.’ He thrust out his hand. ‘Pleased to meet you.’

Fleur had perfected a handshake for doing business, though she still felt a tad awkward when most men seemed to want to squeeze every last drop of strength out of her in order to prove some antiquated point that males were the dominant sex, in and out of the boardroom.

However, the minute she placed her hand in Darcy’s, her nerve endings did some weird short-circuiting thing that sent electrical impulses shooting up her arm. And to make matters worse, he seemed to sense it too, by the slight widening of his baby-blues.

Resisting the urge to pull back as quickly as possible, she managed a shaky smile and slid her hand out of his grasp. ‘If you give me your contact details, Mr Howard, I’ll call you to arrange a mutually convenient time to discuss your company’s needs.’

‘Call me Darcy.’ He smiled and for one, insane moment Fleur felt like jumping into the air and doing a Charlie Chaplin-like sidekick.

‘Here. You can reach me on any of those numbers.’ He handed her a business card and she resisted her first impulse to scan it and memorise every single detail about the man.

Instead, she casually placed it into her handbag as if she had enough business lined up for months. ‘Thanks, I’ll be in touch.’

He nodded before heading towards the door, leaving her gaping after the tall figure clad in a black trench coat.

‘Way to go, girl.’ Liv’s applause penetrated Fleur’s brain and she quickly sat down, trying to act as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred, when, in fact, the encounter with Darcy Howard had shaken her more than she cared to admit.

‘About time I had a change in luck. Let’s hope he’s interested in what I have to offer.’

Liv picked up her novel and fanned her face. ‘Phew! Baby, is he interested!’

‘What are you talking about?’ Fleur feigned ignorance and hoped she didn’t blush.

‘In case you hadn’t noticed, that guy is gorgeous. And he seemed very interested in you.’

Fleur’s heart gave a little flip-flop of hope—maybe she hadn’t imagined the gleam in his eye? However, she inwardly groaned and resisted the urge to slap herself—what was she thinking? She should be concentrating on presenting a professional image to the man she’d just met, not entertaining ludicrous hopes about mixing business with pleasure.

She shrugged. ‘Gorgeous? You’ve been reading too many of those books again. He seemed ancient to me.’

Liv grinned, a self-satisfied smirk that told Fleur her friend knew exactly how she’d reacted to the man. ‘I thought you were into older men.’

Fleur took a long sip from her glass and tried to hide her answering smile. ‘Yeah, but I’m not into collecting antiques!’

‘Wow, he must’ve really grabbed your attention. So, when are you going to call him?’

Suddenly the implications of her predicament came flooding back and Fleur knew that, as much as her reaction to Darcy Howard disturbed her, she needed his business. Like yesterday.

‘I’ll do it first thing tomorrow.’

Liv nodded in approval. ‘Sounds like a plan. Though I wouldn’t leave it too long. Opportunities like Darcy Howard don’t come along too often.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Trust me, I should know.’

And just like that, an image of intense blue eyes boring into her flashed across Fleur’s mind, leaving her with a sudden hankering to grab hold of this opportunity and hang on for dear life.

Darcy stormed into the office and slammed the door shut behind him. Just his luck that the one day he’d managed to grab a bite to eat away from his desk in over a month, he returned to a mountain of problems.

So what’s new?

Since when had his life been anything but a never-ending list of problems—starting with his parents’ death when he’d been nineteen, assuming responsibility for raising his eleven-year-old brother, taking on a pile of debts run up by a father hell-bent on making his harebrained schemes work and, lately, trying to raise his floundering business out of a financial quagmire?

Just another day at the office, he thought, before sinking into his leather chair and scrutinising the latest batch of reports on his desk.

Despite the business acumen of his staff, the profit margins he’d predicted for the company had continued to fall at an alarming rate, leaving him in a quandary. He’d tried team-building exercises, personal pep talks and a bonus incentive scheme but nothing had worked and the strange lethargy that plagued most of his employees was starting to have disastrous consequences on the company’s bottom line.

Rubbing his forehead, he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. The image of Fleur Adams popped into his head and he wondered if he was doing the right thing in considering hiring her to save his company. He’d been impressed—hell, he’d been downright flabbergasted—at the services she’d advertised in her brochures, as if she’d read his mind and known exactly what he needed to make this work.

OK, the brochures hadn’t been the only things that had impressed him. Once he’d taken the time to look at the woman whose head collided with his elbow, he’d been pleasantly surprised. A pair of worldly brown eyes had stared at him, almost startling in their clarity for one so young. He’d guessed her age to be early twenties, which was why he’d questioned her ability to deliver everything her brochures said. How could anyone so young be that experienced?

You were.

He grimaced, hoping that the lovely young woman he’d been lucky enough to bump into today hadn’t learned life’s lessons the hard way, as he had. His view of the world was far too jaded for a man of thirty-eight and there wasn’t one damn thing he could do about it. Growing up too quickly did that to a person.

Shaking his head, he resumed reading the reports on his desk and hoped that Fleur would call. If not, he’d have to come up with some other brilliant idea to make his company a viable proposition again. And hope to bump into another lady who piqued his interest as much as she had.

Fleur’s heels clicked against the polished parquetry floor as she strode towards the front desk of Innovative Imports, keeping pace with her pounding heart. She’d done at least thirty of these presentations by now and should be feeling more confident. However, she knew that her nervousness had more to do with whom she was pitching to today rather than her own material.

Strangely, the receptionist barely looked up as Fleur approached the desk. ‘Excuse me, I’m Fleur Adams and I’m here to see Darcy Howard.’

The girl glanced up, appearing harassed yet bored at the same time, if that was possible. ‘Take a seat and I’ll let him know you’ve arrived.’

Fleur smiled her thanks and received a polite nod in return before the receptionist turned away and punched numbers into a console. So much for first impressions. If this girl was any indication of the calibre of staff that the company employed, she’d have her work cut out for her. If Darcy Howard hired her, that was.

She’d barely sat down before the man in question opened a nearby door and beckoned to her. ‘Come in, Ms Adams. I’ve been expecting you.’

Fleur stood up, grabbed her portfolio and followed him into his office, feeling like a naughty schoolgirl being summoned to the principal’s office. If she thought Darcy Howard had looked intimidating the first time they’d met, it was nothing to the vibes he exuded now. Little wonder the receptionist didn’t have any spark in her; the poor thing was probably too scared to show any signs of life.

‘Please, have a seat.’ He waved towards an over-stuffed leather chair that didn’t look comfortable. ‘Can I get you anything? Tea? Coffee?’

‘No, thanks. And please, call me Fleur.’ She perched on the edge of the chair; as predicted, it threatened to eject a person from its shiny, over-filled surface rather than encourage sitting back and relaxing. Heck, she’d barely been here five minutes and already knew that this man needed her services to revamp every aspect of his business, from furniture to personnel.

He sat behind a monstrous mahogany desk and rested steepled fingers on his chest, reminding her once again of her old high-school principal. Next she’d be hearing, ‘Miss Adams, have you been smoking behind the shed?’ Or better still, ‘Miss Adams, your dress is far too short. Let that hem down at once!’

‘Is something funny?’

Trying to control the twitching of her lips, which threatened to break into a full-blown grin at any second, she schooled her face into a mask of professionalism. ‘Not at all. Now, where would you like me to start?’

He smiled, a small movement involving an upturning of his lips rather than a genuine happy gesture. ‘I’d like to hear what you can do for my company.’

‘That depends on you.’

‘Oh?’

How he managed to instil so much disapproval into one tiny syllable, she’d never know. However, far from being daunted, she launched into her spiel and hoped he’d buy it.

‘Mr Howard, I need to know your company’s strengths, weaknesses, opportunities and threats before I can give you an in-depth analysis of what I can offer you. Let’s begin with the stakeholders and key result areas—’

‘Let’s not,’ he interrupted, sitting forward and fixing her with a probing stare.

‘Pardon?’

He stood up and started pacing the office, drawing her attention to the designer suit encasing his toned body. For a businessman, he obviously found time to work out. Pity he couldn’t improve his personality to go with the body.

‘I don’t need some generic spiel about what you can offer the company. I’ve already read all that in your brochure and it’s exactly what I’m after.’ He stopped for a moment and sat on the corner of the desk, looking down at her. ‘Tell me about you.’

Surprised at his change of subject, Fleur tried to focus her attention on giving him a brief yet professional outline of her qualifications. However, the harder she tried to focus, the more her attention shifted to the man sitting in front of her with his crotch at eye level.

Wrenching her gaze away, she looked up at him, only to find him looking at her with those all-seeing, all-knowing blue eyes. And if she didn’t know any better, she could’ve sworn she glimpsed amusement in their depths.

Clearing her throat, she gave him the abbreviated version of what she assumed he wanted to know. ‘I’m an accountant by profession but found the job too restrictive. I completed a degree in psychology for kicks, anything to break out of the staid accountancy mould. And here I am, trying to combine the two.’

He fixed her with yet another piercing stare. ‘So what was so restrictive?’

‘Everything,’ she answered too quickly, before composing herself. ‘I mean, some people just aren’t cut out for that type of work and I’m one of them.’

He quirked an eyebrow. ‘Why?’

‘I like to live outside the box. I’ll try anything once and being an accountant, surrounded by conservative types who try their utmost to stay inside that box, just didn’t do it for me.’ The interview had taken a decidedly personal turn and, rather than being insulted, Fleur was strangely flattered that he wanted to know what made her tick.

‘Anything, huh?’ He leaned towards her and for one, insane moment she thought he might kiss her.

She nodded, wondering if she’d lost her mind and mentally cursing Liv for filling her head with romantic notions from those damn novels she read.

He stood up and extended his hand. ‘Good. In that case, you’re hired.’

Fleur managed a smile as she placed her hand in his, more prepared this time for the little jolt of electricity that shot up her arm. ‘Thanks for the opportunity. I won’t let you down.’

She wasn’t sure if he held her hand a fraction too long before dropping it. ‘How soon can you start?’

‘Whenever you want me.’

‘Tonight?’ And just like that, the air around them seemed to crackle with some indefinable force, leaving Fleur with the distinct urge to test the boundaries with her new boss.

So what if he acted as if he’d just stepped off the ark? Maybe she could help him lighten up a little and have some fun in the process.

But he’s your boss.

The thought dampened her impish side in a second. What was she thinking? She’d just landed a prime job with a large company that could set her own business on its way and what was she planning? To seduce the boss! She needed to get a life. Fast.

‘Tonight is fine. What did you have in mind?’

He turned away from her and returned to the sanctuary of his desk. ‘Why don’t we have dinner and I can fill you in on the company?’ Several papers were picked up and reshuffled, as if he didn’t care about her answer.

Fleur’s heart lurched at the thought of spending an evening with this man, who had the power to unnerve her without trying. ‘Sure. Name the place and time.’

He looked up, an expression of relief softening his hard features. ‘The Potter Lounge. At eight?’

Fleur hoped the surprise didn’t show on her face. He’d just named one of Melbourne’s stuffiest, pretentious restaurants, usually reserved for regular guests or those hell-bent on making an impression.

‘Formal or cocktail wear?’

‘Whatever takes your fancy.’ His gaze wandered down the length of her body, leaving a trail of goose pimples in its wake. ‘Though I’m sure you’d look great in anything.’

Heat flooded her cheeks, though before she could come up with an appropriate retort he stalked across the room and held the door open for her in an obvious sign of dismissal. ‘See you tonight?’

Clutching her portfolio under one arm and swinging her handbag over the other, Fleur strode past him. ‘See you then. And thanks once again for the opportunity, Mr Howard.’

‘It’s Darcy, remember?’

She managed a polite smile and nod before he shut the door.

It’s Darcy, remember?

His deep voice echoed through her mind along with every word he’d uttered in her bizarre interview. After the impression he’d just made on her, how could she forget?