Free Marriage in Name Only? by Anne Oliver Page A

play thepart. ‘I’m not a fashionista—I’m more of a jeans and T-shirt kind of girl. What am I expected to wear?’
    ‘We’ll have a day to shop when we get there.’ He rose, pulling a bunch of keys from his trouser pocket and drawing her attention to where it shouldn’t be drawn. ‘I’ll call you in the morning.’
    She followed his broad shape down the hall, trying not to admire the back of his tanned neck below the neat trim of dark hair. That earlier anticipation was sparking again, like two live wires touching.
    Was he going to try to kiss her good night?
    Was she going to let him?
    But he opened the door then leaned close, kissed her chastely on the cheek. ‘‘Night, Blondie.’ He stepped out into the evening.
    ‘‘Night …’ She felt like a teenager, giddy with first-date fever, hanging on to the doorframe and wishing he’d come back and kiss her again, properly this time. ‘And thanks for the wonderful dinner.’
    His playful gaze didn’t waver but a hint of something more intimate infused the cerulean with shades of midnight, making her heart leap beneath her breastbone.
    ‘The first of many wonderful things,’ he said, jingling his keys in his hand. ‘Now get some sleep.’
    She intended to. She had a feeling she was going to need it.
The first of many wonderful things
. His words—a promise?—danced in her head like sugar plum fairies. It was going to be next to impossible to keep her mind focused where it needed to be.
    It was going to be next to impossible to keep his mind focused where it needed to be. Jordan lowered his window and let the winter’s damp chill wrap around his neck as he droveback to his apartment. Perhaps it would help cool his blood and redirect it to his brain instead of his groin.
    For God’s sake.
    He barely noticed that the view of Melbourne’s CBD through his windscreen was blurred with rain—he was too preoccupied with thinking about the way Chloe’s hair had felt against his fingers. Its cool, delicate fragrance and how it would feel brushing low over his belly as she—
    Damn
. He blew out a disgusted breath, shifting in his seat and tightening his grip on the wheel. He’d never had trouble focusing and he wasn’t starting now. Chloe Montgomery might be his current red-hot fantasy but she was a means to an end and he was forgetting what was important here. She was being paid to play a role, and with her help he was finally going to settle an old debt.
    But he recalled her stunned surprise when he’d planted that first proper kiss on her soft lips and couldn’t help the smile that touched his mouth. The delightful way she’d tried to push away only to change her mind. The feel of her firm breasts against his chest. Her taste—sweet and spice and everything nice.
    He turned into his apartment complex’s underground parking. The security door rose with a hum. Not the only thing humming, he thought, still smiling, as he drove through then manoeuvred into his parking spot. He couldn’t wait for tomorrow evening. To see her again. To be on his way. To move forward with the next stage of his life.
    Yeah, everything about this trip was going to be sweet.
    Dawn was grey with a dusky pink glow, the city’s twinkling blanket of lights spread out below when Jordan embarked on a rigorous morning workout a few sleepless hours later.
    In the interim, he’d spoken at length with Qasim and everything was arranged with their meeting in two days’ time.He’d confirmed the accommodation, the best that money could buy, and organised a driver to be on call while they were there.
    He was cycling hard and going nowhere to the beat of his favourite rock band when a lemon sun, partially obscured by high-rises, lifted into the sky at seven-thirty. Through his gym’s floor-to-ceiling glass, Jordan watched the caterpillars of traffic below crawl along and figured Chloe should be up by now.
    Still pedalling, he disconnected his music, scrolled to her number and turned his