Australian Bachelors: Masterful Magnates: Purchased: His Perfect Wife

It was after nine when Wolfe eased the Lexus into a parking slot and entered Lara’s. Shontelle greeted him warmly and showed him to a table.

‘Wolfe just walked in.’

Lara cast Sally a harried glance, and immediately returned to the task at hand. ‘Fine.’ She glimpsed Sally’s faintly lifted eyebrow and tempered it with, ‘OK, thanks.’

It wasn’t a good evening. The first of the two prospective chefs on trial wasn’t working out too well. Twice the woman had stuffed up; although the errors were minor and could be attributed to nerves, it didn’t make for an auspicious beginning.

Lara had painstakingly built up a reputation, and she refused to see it diminished in any way. Her existing staff were good workers, quick and incredibly loyal. Any newcomer had to meet with their approval as well as her own.

At ten, Lara bade the woman goodnight and promised to relay her decision within a few days.

The last patron left at eleven, the kitchen was restored to neatness, the tables cleared, and Sally retrieved the vacuum cleaner while Lara began locking up.

Wolfe lent a hand stacking chairs and they emerged into the cool night air to a light shower of rain, bade goodnight to Sally, who’d gained a lift from a fellow worker, then Wolfe eased the Lexus towards the inner city.

The almost silent swish of car tyres against wet bitumen was vaguely soothing, and she resisted the temptation to sink back against the head-rest and close her eyes.

‘How did you rate tonight’s trial with the first of the two replacement chefs?’

‘It’s better you don’t ask.’

‘That bad?’

She wanted to be fair, in spite of her reservations. ‘I don’t think she’ll fit in with the team.’

Wolfe eased the Lexus into the hotel forecourt. ‘Based on valid reason, or gut instinct?’

‘Both.’

It was almost the witching hour when Wolfe inserted the keycard and unlocked their suite.

Lara toed off her trainers, gathered nightwear and moved into the en suite. A hot shower eased some of the evening’s tension and, towelled dry, she pulled on a nightshirt, caught her hair together and emerged into the room.

Wolfe was in bed, his lengthy frame stretched out beneath the covers with both hands folded beneath his head. Dimly lit bedside lamps lent an intimacy she endeavoured to ignore … and failed miserably.

Just knowing he was there. Aware, if she moved a few paces, she could reach out and touch him. The nerves in her stomach curled into a tight ball at the thought of his possible reaction.

Oh, give it up, she silently derided as she slid into bed. Tonight … Sunday … next week. What was the difference?

She must have fallen asleep, for she woke to the sound of her watch alarm and the insistent peal of the phone heralding a wake-up call.

It became a day like any other, and Lara relaxed somewhat as the male chef on trial proved himself to be deft and skilled as he handled lunch with dedicated ease. The evening went equally well, and the kitchen team’s approval cemented Lara’s decision to hire him.

Anton—otherwise known as Anthony ‘Tony’ Smith from a small town out west—had trained in Sydney and worked in Europe. What was more, due to his recent return from a sojourn in France, he was available for an immediate start.

Like … tomorrow?

His, ‘Why not? What time?’ was easy.

There was nothing like having him dive in at the deep end. ‘At the fish markets, before dawn.’

‘I’ll be there.’

He was, and together they bartered for the best supplies, secured and arranged for delivery, then settled on a time for him to report in to the restaurant.

‘Free up a few hours this afternoon.’ Wolfe inclined his head as they shared breakfast, and she spared him a wary look.

‘Why?’

‘Shopping.’ He refilled his cup with coffee and leant back in his chair.

‘I don’t need anything.’

‘Yes, you do,’ he refuted easily. ‘Unless you have a collection of clothes in storage?’

Her features paled beneath his steady gaze. ‘I sold every designer label I owned in a bid to improve my cash flow.’ Her chin lifted in silent defence. ‘Not to mention paring down my belongings to a bare minimum.’ She managed a cynical smile. ‘Boarding houses aren’t known for providing generous space for tenants’ belongings.’ Besides, given the long hours she worked, there was no time to socialize.

Pride, she possessed it in spades, together with a measure of integrity, he mused. ‘Double Bay is close. We’ll go there.’

‘The hell we will.’

‘Consider it an advance.’

‘No,’ Lara reiterated, hating the invidious position she was in.

‘You dislike shopping?’

‘I hate the thought of sinking even further into your debt.’ ‘Should I state the obvious?’

She tilted her head to one side. ‘Where you relay the “most women” thing?’ Her eyes sparked blue fire as she lifted a hand and began ticking off each finger. ‘For the record, I’m not most women.’ She took time to sweep his powerful frame from head to toe, and back again. ‘Endorse your wealth? For your information, I don’t give a fig.’ Her expression tightened and a soft bloom of colour stained each cheekbone. ‘Remind me I’ll repay you with sex?’

One look into those dark eyes was enough to raise the hairs on the back of her neck, and she stood quickly to her feet … only to see him copy her action.

Oh, what was she doing?

Just as the thought ‘play with fire and you get burnt’ occurred, he reached for her and locked her body against his hard, muscular contours, making her startlingly aware of the strength and size of his arousal.

A startled gasp escaped from her lips as he held fast her head, then his mouth captured hers in a plundering possession that took hold of her emotions and shattered them.

A despairing groan rose and died in her throat as she curled her hand into a fist and aimed it for his shoulder.

Except his strength far outmatched her own, and he held her captive, gentling his invasion to something incredibly sensual, awakening her senses until he gained her unbidden response.

She lost all thought as he led her to a place where nothing else mattered … except the man, and his witching power to render her boneless.

For a wild moment she wanted more, so much more, and her hands unclenched as she linked them together at his nape, holding his head fast as she gave herself up to the magic of his touch.

Then it was he who began to withdraw, softening the contact as he nibbled her lower lip, savouring its faintly swollen contours, and lightly brushing her mouth with his own before gently breaking contact.

For a few timeless seconds she felt strangely adrift, then realization dawned and her eyes widened with stunned disbelief as she began fighting frantically to be free of him.

Except one powerful arm held her immobile while he took hold of her chin between finger and thumb, then he tipped it slightly so she had no recourse but to look at him … or close her eyes. And she refused to allow him the slightest sign of her defeat.

‘In future you might care to consider my reaction before resorting to such a reckless turn of phrase,’ Wolfe warned with indolent ease as he released her. ‘Particularly if you want to enforce the “no sex before marriage” dictum.’

Not only his reaction but her own, Lara admitted wretchedly as she sought to put some distance between them.

Dear heaven … what had just happened here?

Déjà vu.

Except now it was worse, so much worse than she believed possible. She was older, wiser … and experienced. If you counted two brief liaisons and a vague disappointment in the sexual act, assigning the reason to her lack of emotional engagement for failing to achieve orgasm. Or had it been the result of selfish carelessness of the men in question?

Instinct warned it would be different when Wolfe took her to bed.

Just how different she’d discover within days … nights, she amended … aware there were only two remaining before she took his name and vowed to share his life.

Would he assume her compliance and seek to initiate sex tonight?

Even the thought that he might sent her into a wild emotional spin, and she barely controlled the myriad sensations sweeping through her body.

Right now she desperately needed to get away from him, and she took the few steps necessary to retrieve her shoulderbag.

‘I’ll take a cab.’

Wolfe merely ignored her and collected his keys as he followed her from the suite.

He waited until they were in the car and the Lexus purred almost silently through the morning traffic before querying, ‘Are you sufficiently confident in Tony’s ability?’

‘As much as I can be. Why?’

‘Enough for you to finish up tonight?’

‘Not possible. Saturday is our busiest day, not to mention the evening.’

‘Need I remind you we marry Sunday morning, and board a flight to New York mid-afternoon?’

As if she could forget. ‘Saturday stands.’

‘And if I insist?’

‘It won’t make any difference,’ Lara assured him, not willing to give so much as an inch.

The remaining short distance was achieved in silence, and Lara reached for the door-clasp the instant the car slid in against the kerb.

‘Be ready at two o’clock,’ Wolfe indicated in a voice as smooth as silk.

In your dreams, she managed silently. He could come drag her from the kitchen … if he dared.

In fact he did, if not quite literally, but with the enthused encouragement of Shontelle, Tony, and Sally … What choice did she have but to remove her apron and give in gracefully?

She even waited until they were safely in the car and out of earshot before railing at him for his high-handedness.

‘Has no one accused you of being an arrogant, overbearing control-freak?’

‘Aside from you? No.’

Her eyes darkened at the sound of amusement in his voice, and she pursed her lips in an effort to control the flood of words she felt compelled to throw at him.

Instead she concentrated on the scene beyond the windscreen, taking no pleasure in the sunshine, the almost cloudless blue skies, or the soft, budding flora unfolding with spring.

It didn’t take long to reach the exclusive boutiques in Double Bay, or for Wolfe to ease the Lexus into a convenient parking space.

‘Let’s go.’

Public mutiny wasn’t part of her scene, and she slid from the car in silence then walked the pavement at his side.

The selection of wedding rings came first, and Lara tamped down a shocked gasp as he slid a wide multi-faceted diamond band onto her finger, then chose a gold band for himself.

The rings purchased and carefully boxed and bagged, Wolfe led her from one boutique to another until he approved a suitable dress in ivory with a delicate lace overlay … which happened to be her size. Matching stilettos were added at outrageous cost.

Not to be daunted, he included a set of ivory briefs and bra, showing no embarrassment whatsoever in choosing a preferred style.

‘Have you no shame?’ Lara demanded as they emerged onto the pavement. She barely refrained from stamping a foot in sheer frustration. ‘Enough already. I don’t need anything else!’

‘You do.’ His lazy drawl curled round her nerve-ends and did strange things to her equilibrium. ‘But it can wait.’

She should thank him, and she did, with such utmost graciousness it brought an amused smile in response.

‘My pleasure.’

There was doubt what form such pleasure would take, and she fought against the quickening pulse beating at the base of her throat.

‘Are we done?’ She needed to immerse herself in the familiar and lose herself in work.

‘Soon you won’t be able to escape me so easily.’ Like she didn’t know this?

‘So I’ll walk a little on the wild side,’ Lara offered with deliberate facetiousness.

‘You sound almost afraid.’

They reached the Lexus, and she sent him a sweet smile over the roof of the car. ‘Shaking. Can’t you tell?’

His husky chuckle sent the blood fizzing through her veins, and she deliberately ignored the exigent sexual energy as Wolfe delivered her to the restaurant.

‘I’ll take a cab to the hotel when I’m done,’ Lara relayed as she released her safety-belt. ‘With Tony on board, I may finish up earlier than usual.’ She slid quickly from the car and walked towards the restaurant without a backwards glance.

CHAPTER SIX

TONY worked with skill, co-ordinating with everyone so well there was barely a hitch as the evening progressed. Lara felt some of the tension ease in the knowledge the restaurant would continue to operate quite well without her … although the thought of walking away from what represented years of hard work to reach eventual ownership would be a terrible wrench.

Lara’s was her pride and joy, especially so in recent months, when she’d been forced to struggle against crippling odds to hold on to it, and then only by the skin of her teeth.

‘Hey, get with the real world.’

Sally’s light teasing broke the reflection, and Lara offered a self-deprecating smile.

‘Wolfe’s a gorgeous hunk any woman would kill to share body fluids with,’ Sally declared with a mock-salacious grin. ‘But right now I need a chocolate mousse, a bombe alaska, and a crème brûlée.’

A sudden flame flared deep inside at the image Sally’s words evoked, and she resolutely dampened it down. ‘Coming right up.’

‘Why don’t you call it a night?’ Tony suggested a short while later. ‘Sally and I’ll close and lock up.’

An automatic refusal hovered on her lips, only to have him remind her, ‘As from tomorrow, it’ll be my responsibility.’

As difficult as it was to let go, she recognized it as something she had to do. ‘You’re sure?’

‘Go. I’ll take care of your baby as if it’s my own.’ He crossed his heart in a humorous gesture and offered a smile in reassurance. ‘Promise.’ A faintly wicked gleam lit his eyes. ‘Take a rain check and sleep in. If you front up here tomorrow before late afternoon, you’ll be in serious trouble.’

‘My sentiments exactly.’

The drawl was familiar—too familiar—and Lara turned to see Shontelle had ushered Wolfe into the kitchen.

Tony glanced in Wolfe’s direction. ‘Your timing is perfect. I’ve just given Lara the rest of the night off.’

Wolfe’s eyebrow slanted. ‘And she accepted?’

‘What is it with men, that they tend to stick together?’ Lara posed to no one in particular.

‘They need to, because women usually win,’ Sally declared with a cheeky grin as she set up two glass plungers with coffee.

‘Indeed?’

An icy chill slithered the length of Lara’s spine at the faint mockery evident. No one could best a man of Wolfe’s calibre … unless he chose to let them.

Controlled manipulation, honed by years of wheeling, dealing and building his own empire.

However, if he imagined he could employ similar tactics with her, he’d better forget it!

Almost as if he could discern her thoughts, he closed the distance between them and brushed his lips to her temple.

‘Are you done?’

She managed a singularly sweet smile that didn’t fool him in the slightest. ‘For the evening, yes.’ ‘Then say goodnight and we’ll leave.’

‘Be still, my beating heart,’ Sally offered with a grin, and Lara removed her apron, smoothed a hand over her hair, collected her shoulderbag, bade the staff goodnight and preceded Wolfe out onto the pavement.

‘You were to call me when you finished for the evening,’ Wolfe reminded her silkily as he put the Lexus in motion.

Lara spared him a careful look beneath the reflected street lighting. His broad-boned facial structure was arresting, and sculpted to chiselled perfection.

In such close proximity she couldn’t help but be aware of him … the faint tones of his exclusive cologne, the expensive leather jacket. Not to mention the powerful male body beneath the freshly laundered clothing.

‘Why, when I said I’d catch a cab?’ she queried reasonably, and stifled the faint chill feathering the surface of her skin at the threat he posed to her emotional heart.

Verbal retaliation seemed her only defence, and there was a part of her that recognized the danger of going too far.

Hadn’t he shown her the folly of doing so this morning?

The memory of how her mouth had felt following his invasion was too fresh for her to easily forget.

She owed him much. Too much.

Why rail against it … against him?

Yet she’d fought too hard for too long to slip into polite acquiescence.

Wolfe covered the distance between the Rocks and their hotel in silence, and as soon as they entered their suite Lara collected nightwear and headed for the shower.

When she emerged Wolfe had discarded his jacket and was seated at the small desk, intent on viewing data on his laptop.

Lara slid into bed … to sleep, hopefully within minutes, and not wake until morning.

She closed her eyes against the images swirling through her mind. For there had been so many changes in such a short time.

Too many, she reflected, aware of an aching sadness at the loss of her dearly loved mother, Suzanne, who’d been friend, confidante and there, kind and supportive as they’d shared the bad times. Never quite taking the good years for granted when Darius had taken them both beneath his wing.

Lara felt the faint burn of unshed tears in the knowledge Suzanne wouldn’t witness her only daughter’s wedding.

A painful lump rose in her throat and constricted there.

If Suzanne and Darius were alive, there wouldn’t be a wedding.

She must have slept, for she was caught up in a terrible dream where she was travelling through France in an unfamiliar car, talking and laughing with Suzanne as they admired the passing scenery, and contemplating where they’d stop for the night. Darius favoured a hotel, while Suzanne inclined towards a family-owned bed and breakfast. Out of the blue a car careened at speed towards them, and Darius swung the wheel … then Lara became a disembodied spectator as the crash occurred, followed by an explosion … and she screamed. Crying out against the inevitability that no one could possibly survive the fiercely burning wreck … and again, begging a miracle against the cruel hand of fate as she ran towards the fiasco, felt the heat sear her body, and pushed at the hands that sought to pull her away.

‘Lara.’

She barely registered someone calling her name, or the indistinct oath as she was hauled against a hard, warm body.

‘Let me go!’ She fought in earnest, desperate to be free.

The voice she dimly registered … it was familiar. And the hauntingly real scene gripping her mind began to fade, lingering on the fringes as it was superimposed by a lit room, recognition of the hotel suite, and the man who held her.

Wolfe.

His warm hard-muscled body … dear heaven, naked, she starkly registered as he trailed a soothing hand down her spine.

Tears welled up in her eyes and hovered there, threatening to spill, then they overflowed to run in a slow rivulet down each cheek.

A husky oath escaped from his lips, and he lifted a hand to her cheek, gently brushing a thumb pad over one cheek, then the other.

‘Easy, now.’ His voice was quiet, almost soothing as he regarded her carefully, and there was a degree of concern apparent.

His breath teased the hair at her temple, tendrils that had escaped in her fierce struggle to be free of her nightmare captor, and her eyes dilated as he feathered the stray hair behind her ear.

Lara didn’t think she was capable of uttering so much as a word.

The scene was surreal. Time stood still, encapsulated in a moment which seemed to stretch long as she processed the waiting, watchful quality apparent in his dark eyes.

A word, a slight indication on her part …

She had to move, put some distance between them, and the breath hitched in her throat as she pushed her hands against his chest, using leverage to widen the space.

Wolfe caught the indecision, the momentary fear … and something else. Innocent curiosity?

Curiosity, perhaps … but innocence?

He allowed her to shift to arm’s length, shaping her slender frame as he skimmed his hands to cup her shoulders, aware if he released her she’d scuttle beneath the bedcovers.

‘Do you want to talk about whatever pitched you into that particular hell?’

Heartfelt confidences in the depth of night, only to be regretted in the light of day?

‘No.’ Any rehashing would only keep the scene alive in her mind, and possibly plunge her back into it within minutes of Wolfe dousing the bedside lamp. ‘I’m fine.’

Sure, she was. But she desperately needed the solace of a darkened room, not to mention a physical distance between her and the dangerous man whose power to affect her was positively lethal.

For several long seconds his eyes seared hers, seconds when she felt the pulse thud at the base of her throat, and she unconsciously lifted her hand to hide it from view.

She felt raw, and incredibly vulnerable. Wanting, needing comfort, but hesitant to seek it in case the action might be misconstrued.

A faint smile curved his lips as he leant forward and brushed his mouth to her forehead. ‘Try to sleep, hmm?’ Without a further word he released her, then he stood to his feet and slid between the covers of his own bed. Seconds later the room plunged into darkness as he switched off the lamp.

Lara inched low, closed her eyes and endeavoured to covet sleep, forcing herself to lie still and regiment her breathing.

It didn’t work, nothing worked, and she felt inordinately restless, unable to settle in any one position.

She was unaware of exchanging the darkness of night for dark dreams that appeared in seamless, kaleidoscopic confusion … her father’s violent temper and Suzanne’s fear; vicious slaps from her father’s hand because she wasn’t quick enough to obey him; her childish sobbing as she huddled into a foetal ball in a darkened room behind a locked door.

Then strong arms cradled her close, and she instinctively clung to a warm body, holding on tight as a sense of peace seeped into her soul, providing a dreamless somnolence.

Next morning Lara woke to the muted sound of the shower in the en suite, and it was almost eight when she checked her watch.

That was when she noticed the bedcovers were turned back on the opposite side of her bed, the imprint of a head on the pillow beside her own.

Someone had occupied her bed.

Wolfe? Of course, Wolfe!

Had they …? No, of course not. She’d have remembered … and have known!

Which meant … Oh, dear heaven. Snatches of remembered dreams surfaced, and her features paled as she pinned being held through what remained of the night as reality, not part of a dream.

The sound of the en-suite door opening held her transfixed as Wolfe emerged into the room, a white towel hitched at his hips, his dark hair wet.

A curling sensation spiralled up inside as she took in his powerful shoulders, the broad muscular chest with its light sprinkling of dark hair arrowing down past his navel. The narrow waist, lean hips and the length of his legs.

His presence dominated the room, and she lifted her head a little and met his dark gaze.

‘Good morning.’ His drawled greeting curled round her nerve-ends and tugged a little.

Wolfe caught the soft tinge of pink colouring her cheeks, divined the cause, and watched the fleeting emotions chase across her expressive features.

‘You slept in my bed.’ A statement which verged close to an accusation, and she saw one eyebrow slant in silent query.

‘It bothered you?’

Her eyes darkened. ‘Yes, damn it.’

‘“Slept” being the operative word,’ he reminded her as he closed the distance between them.