Free Daniel's Bride by Joanne Hill Page A

eyes that
stared back at her with shock. And desire?
    She went still. Had he felt the same emotions she’d felt
from this kiss?
    She blinked to clear her mind. It wasn’t possible.
    He took a step back and glanced at his watch. “We don’t have
much time.”
    Her breath was still labored, and her mind a blaze of
confusion. “Time to do what?”
    Any composure he had lost he appeared to have regained and
it was all business. If there’d been any desire, it had clearly been fleeting.
An aberration.
    He reached in his pocket for his phone, and began to punch
in a number. “To organize a wedding.”

CHAPTER FIVE
     
     
    It didn’t feel right, but then what had she expected?
    Mel put her hand to her chest, over the lump of sadness at
the fact that her mother, a born romantic, had no idea her only daughter was
getting married, that no one knew she was getting married except for a handful
of people she’d known barely a week. Thinking about it was enough to make her
question her sanity yet again.
    She’d only ever lied to her mother about one thing and it
had been a lie by omission, when she’d avoided telling her the full story
behind Max leaving. It would have sent Ellie into a plummeting depression and
if she knew the truth about this , the same thing would happen. Mel
glanced at her left hand, at the bare fingers and flexed them. What an irony
that for a woman who hated deception, who abhorred being lied to, she was about
to do the very thing to the person who mattered most to her.
    She glanced out the window at the perfect vineyard, from the
discretion-guaranteed private hotel in northern New South Wales. In a few hours
they would return to Sydney by jet. She would be Mrs Daniel Christie.
    It would be worth it, she told herself. Living this lie for
the next few months would be worth it.
    She turned away from the window and glanced at their two
“guests”; Hugh and his daughter, Claire. Claire seemed nonplussed by the whole
quick and dirty wedding business. Mel wondered if she had been made aware this
was not a real marriage at all.
    Next to her, Daniel said, “You look lovely.”
    In front of them was the marriage celebrant. He was a friend
of Hugh, and had flown up with them in the private jet in what Mel thought of
as the package deal.
    She focused back on Daniel. He gave the compliment in a
matter-of-fact manner, and he was probably being nice, but she’d thought she
looked pretty darn good.
    “Thank you.” She had purchased the dress, an Australian designer
label, off the rack at an upmarket store in Double Bay; a soft white dress that
fit her body closely yet even managed to knock a few pounds off her hips and
stomach. The hotel stylist had arranged her hair in a swathe of loose curls
swirling around her shoulders and she’d been presented with a bouquet of
perfect pink and white roses.
    She looked very bridal.
    And very virginal.
    Which, she thought on a sharp intake of breath, she would
stay, even though tonight was their wedding night. Even though kissing Daniel
Christie had told her there was no way on this earth she was immune to him.
    She glanced at her future husband as he stoically faced the
celebrant. In profile, Daniel was impossibly handsome. His jaw was lean,
tanned, chiselled to perfection. Her gaze slipped. His suit was black with a
pristine white shirt and black tie. His shoulders filled the jacket and his
dark hair touched the tip of his shirt collar. But possessing good looks when
you were uncompromisingly arrogant … she would have to grit her teeth and bear
the next few months. For you, Mum.
    The celebrant cleared his throat, Mel turned to him, and he
beamed a smile of welcome at them both. Alongside her, Claire whispered, “You
make a beautiful bride.”
    Butterflies played havoc in her stomach. What sort of
wedding was this? She whispered shakily, “Thank you.”
    Nerves rippled down her spine then back up again. She felt a
nudge at her side as Daniel looked down with a