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  Just a little longer. Soon it will be over.

  And then she stopped in front of him. Could he hear the pounding of her heart?

  “Join hands,” the minister said.

  Before she could utter a word, Franco took her hands in his own. It was only once his steady grip held her fingers that she noticed the slight tremor in her hands. Okay, so she was a little more nervous than she’d been willing to admit.

  And then the minister started a traditional service. There was way too much reference to love going on—way too much. She felt like a total fraud. She needed to do something—say something. If the minister kept talking about how their lives would forever be intertwined, she was never going to make it through the wedding.

  Before she could utter a word, Franco leaned over and whispered to the minister, “Could we just skip to the important part?”

  The minister sent him a knowing smile, as though this wasn’t the first time a couple had been anxious to rush to vows. Only Carla was certain the other couples’ haste hadn’t been because the mention of love and forever while marrying someone they weren’t romantically linked with made them uncomfortable.

  “Do you, Franco Giuseppe Marchello, take Carla Elana Falco to be your wife?”

  There was a pause. Carla’s gaze rose to meet his. She immediately saw his indecision. No. No. We’ve come too far for you to back out now.

  “Franco,” prompted the minister.

  Her gaze flickered to the minister, whose attention was fully focused on her intended. She turned back to Franco. His gaze was downcast. What was he doing? Wasn’t it too late to reconsider this marriage?

  She squeezed his hand, hoping to jar him back to reality. His head immediately lifted. When his gaze met hers, she looked at him expectedly.

  “I do.” His response was faint.

  The minister smiled and nodded. He turned to her. In a calm, steady voice, the minister said, “Do you, Carla Elana Falco, take Franco Giuseppe Marchello to be your husband?”

  Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. This was it. This was the final part. All she had to do was utter two little words. It’d seemed so simple when Franco had to do it. But now that it was her turn and all eyes were on her, she suddenly realized the enormity of saying I do and how it would have an enormous impact on her life—every single aspect of her life was about to change.

  Franco squeezed her hand just as she had done for him. Her eyes rose to meet his. And in his intent gaze was the expectation that she would follow his lead and seal the deal. After all, this had been her idea in the first place.

  She swallowed hard and couldn’t help but wonder if this was going to be the biggest mistake of her life. And then she uttered in a strangled voice, “I do.”

  Relief reflected in Franco’s dark eyes. Apparently he didn’t want to be left standing at the altar. They turned to the minister, who said a few words and then declared them husband and wife.

  “You may kiss the bride.” The minister beamed at them.

  Oh no! How could she have forgotten about this part? Because there was no way that they were going to seal this business deal with a kiss. That was simply above and beyond their agreement. Surely Franco would agree. After all, it wasn’t like he was into her.

  She turned to Franco to tell him that they could skip this part. Her gaze flickered to his. She could read the look in his eyes. It was one of desire. He was going to kiss her. Her pulse raced with anticipation. This shouldn’t happen, but there was a part of her that had always wondered what it’d be like to be kissed by him.

  His hands spanned her waist. As he drew her nearer, it was only natural for her to reach out to him, placing her hands on his broad shoulders to maintain her balance. Because there was no way she would voluntarily reach out to him—wanting to feel his powerful muscles beneath her fingertips.

  And then, as though there was a magnetic force drawing them together, she felt her body lean toward his. She felt helpless to resist the attraction. Her heart pitter-pattered faster, harder. It echoed in her ears.

  As though time were suspended, everything moved in slow motion. Her husband was about to kiss her. She was married. Married. The word echoed in her mind.

  In the next millisecond, she pressed against his hard, muscular chest. Oh my! The air stilled in her lungs. The initial protest evaporated.

  The touch of his lips to hers settled her frantic thoughts, allowing her to focus on him and her—on this dizzying, delicious kiss. His touch was warm and firm. His lips moved slowly over hers. A moan swelled in her throat. No first kiss was supposed to be this good—this addictive.

  She gave herself up to the moment. She leaned fully into his embrace, giving herself to him. Her lips began to move beneath his. Because she wasn’t going to turn away from this most amazing experience. She never wanted this wondrous sensation to end—

  Someone cleared their throat.

  Carla was immediately jerked out of the trancelike state she’d been in. Her feet came crashing back down to earth. She jumped back. Heat rushed up her neck and set her cheeks aflame. Well, if she’d wanted to convince her father that this marriage was real, that should have done it.

  She didn’t dare look at her new husband. She didn’t want him to see how his kiss had warmed her cheeks and shaken her to the core. Because none of this was real. The marriage wasn’t real. This wedding wasn’t real. And that kiss hadn’t been real.

  Sure, it had all happened, but it was all a show. She just couldn’t get caught up in their playacting. And it was all her father’s fault. If he wasn’t such a stubborn man. If he wasn’t willing to risk his life to keep working—keep making sure their company was ever expanding at an alarming pace—she wouldn’t officially be Mrs. Franco Marchello. That acknowledgment made her heart leap into her throat.

  Mrs. Franco Marchello. Oh my!

  Wedding guests rushed forward to congratulate them, but she couldn’t focus on anything but this insurmountable mistake she’d made. She went through the motions as her mind struggled with the reality of what they’d just done.

  The one thing she knew was that there would be no more kissing Franco. No way. Because it was dangerous. She couldn’t think straight when he was so close to her. And when his lips were touching hers, all she could think was how much she wanted more of him—so much more.

  * * *

  That had gone totally wrong.

  He’d only meant to give her a brief, passive kiss.

  Franco inwardly groaned as he realized the kiss had been anything but brief or passive. There had been sparks that he hadn’t seen coming. Those sparks had ignited a flame. And now he couldn’t get Carla out of his system.

  And that shouldn’t have happened. It was a total miscalculation on his part. Because Carla was the last person on the planet he should be kissing. It wasn’t that he didn’t find her attractive. He thought Carla was the most beautiful woman he’d ever known. Any man with an active pulse couldn’t deny her beauty.

  The problem was the fact that she was Carlo Falco’s daughter. And he had been duly warned by his grandfather not to trust a Falco. That’s why Franco had had his team of attorneys go over the marriage contract twice. It was ironclad. This knowledge still didn’t help him breathe easier.

  “You really outdid yourself.” Carla smiled at him, as they stood off to the side of the party. She lowered her voice so as not to be overheard. “I thought it would just be a small, forgettable exchange of vows, but you made this whole experience a lot more enjoyable and less businesslike. Not that I’ve forgotten this is all business, but still it was nice. Thank you.”

  Her words shocked him—in a good way. He swallowed hard. “You’re welcome. I’m glad you liked it.”

  “I did.” And then she leaned in close. “I almost believed it was real.”

  “But it was real. And now we have a show to put on fo
r our guests.” As the music played in the background, he held his hand out to her. “Shall we, Mrs. Marchello?”

  She placed her hand in his and they started toward the dance floor—

  “Not so fast.” Carlo Falco stepped in front of them. His face was full of color as his brows were drawn together in a formidable line. “We need to talk.”

  Franco gave Carla’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “Let’s step over there.”

  “Not you.” Her father’s deep voice rumbled with barely restrained anger.

  Franco wasn’t going to let Carla take the brunt of her father’s anger alone. They’d agreed to this plan together, and they’d see it through together. “We’re married now. If you have something to say about that, you can say it to both of us.”

  Carlo’s gaze moved to his daughter. “Is that how it’s going to be from now on? A Marchello is going to do all the talking for you?”

  “Papa, calm down. There’s no need to get so worked up.”

  Her father’s gaze narrowed. “So does he speak for you?”

  “No. I can speak for myself. But in this case, I agree with my husband—”

  “Husband, ha! This sham of a marriage is never going to last. You only agreed to marry him to spite me. When you’re ready to admit this was a mistake, you know where to find me.”

  “But Papa, wait—”

  Carlo stormed off. His pace didn’t so much as slow down as she continued to call out to him. Nor did he give her a backward glance. Franco supposed that was something else Carlo had in common with his grandfather—a short temper and the feeling that they knew what was best for those around them. It was a quite an assumption on their parts. Franco’s muscles tensed with anger. Carla wiggled her fingers, letting him know he was squeezing her hand too tightly.

  When he glanced at her, he noticed how her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “It’ll be okay.” He wasn’t certain of it, but those were the first comforting words that came to mind. “He just needs a little time to get used to the idea.”

  “I knew he’d be upset—” her voice wavered with emotion “—but I’ve never seen him that upset.”

  “You can’t do anything about it now. Let it go for the moment. You being miserable all evening won’t change anything.”

  “But I should go talk to him.”

  “And tell him what? That you’re going to cave in and dissolve our marriage? Remember why you did this.”

  She drew in an unsteady breath. “You’re right. He needs to cool off. I’ll reason with him tomorrow.”

  “It sounds like a plan.” He sent her an encouraging smile. “Now, would you like to dance?”

  It was then that she glanced around at all the people trying not to stare at them and failing miserably.

  “I suppose we’d better.” She didn’t waste any time as she led him to the dance floor.

  Once on the dance floor, she placed her hand in his. He pulled her close. As they moved around the temporary dance floor, his heart pounded. He told himself it was from the physical activity, but secretly he knew it was from holding his beautiful bride so close—so temptingly close.

  Carla laid her head on his shoulder as the photographer took their photo. It was then that Franco smelled the peachy-floral scent of her hair. He inhaled deeper. Maybe this marriage thing wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

  Just then Carla’s heel came down on his foot. He bit back a yelp of pain. He was suddenly jarred from his fantasy. He couldn’t help but wonder if her misstep had been accidental or intentional. Because her movements had been smooth and graceful up until that point. Was it possible she’d read the direction of his thoughts?

  With that in mind, he loosened his hold on her waist, allowing some more space between them. Maybe then he would cool down and his imagination wouldn’t keep tiptoeing into forbidden territory.

  CHAPTER SIX

  FOR THE MOST PART, it had been an amazing evening.

  She could have danced all night long.

  With Franco’s attentive assistance, Carla was finally able to shove the scene with her father to the back of her mind. She found herself smiling. Why not? The worst was over. They were married now. There was nothing to contemplate. The deed had been done.

  Still, it was hard not to be utterly and totally distracted by her dashing husband. Husband. That was going to take some getting used to.

  She had to admit that Franco and his assistant had planned a pretty awesome party. And she noticed him smiling throughout the evening filled with delicious food and endless dancing. Though he entertained the guests, he was still an attentive husband. What happened after this evening, well, she wasn’t going to let her mind go there. At least not yet.

  Franco stepped up to her. He held out a flute of champagne. It wasn’t her first or second glass that evening. At first, she’d been hesitant to drink any, but as the festive mood of the evening swept over her, she found herself letting her guard down and enjoying the evening. After all, she couldn’t spend the next six months at odds with her husband.

  But the evening was winding down, and guests were departing. And secretly she didn’t want to see it end. She wasn’t ready to go back to reality with its endless meetings and arduous negotiations.

  “Did you enjoy yourself?” Franco asked.

  “I had a delightful time.” She sipped the sweet, bubbly champagne.

  He arched a brow. “Truthfully?”

  She took her finger and made an X over her chest. “Cross my heart.”

  Gianna approached them. She leaned forward and gave Carla a hug. “I’m so happy for you. And best of all, we’re sisters-in-law. Isn’t that awesome?”

  Carla hadn’t thought of that before. “Yes, it is.”

  She glanced over as the two brothers shook hands and then clapped each other on the back. Franco looked more relaxed now than she’d ever seen him. Maybe it was just the relief of this day being over. If so, she had to agree with him. It had been surprisingly fun, but now she was exhausted.

  After a glowing Gianna and her clearly besotted husband left, Carla turned and was surprised to find some people still on the dance floor.

  Franco held his hand out to her. “May I have this dance?”

  “Haven’t you had enough dancing?”

  He smiled. “Not with my beautiful bride.”

  Heat rushed to her cheeks. Even though she knew he was still playing a part, she couldn’t help getting caught up in the moment. And it was impossible for her to deny the way his words made her heart pitter-patter, even if she only admitted it to herself.

  What would it hurt to let the charade continue just a little longer? After all, it was too late now to visit her father. And it was too late to do any business. So for the moment, she was all Franco’s—so to speak.

  Carla finished her glass of sparkling blue champagne. Her favorite. Then she placed her hand in his and they made their way to the dance floor. A slow ballad started to play as Franco pulled her into his arms. She didn’t hesitate as he drew her in close. She told herself it was the effect of the bubbly that had her giving up on keeping a modest distance between them.

  The softness of her curves pressed up against the hard planes of his muscled chest. The breath caught in her lungs as every nerve ending in her body tingled with desire. She closed her eyes and rested her head against his shoulder. After all, he was now legally her husband—why not enjoy the advantages of the situation?

  They danced one slow song after the next. With her head turned in toward his neck, she inhaled the scent of soap combined with a spiciness. It was utterly addictive and totally intoxicating. She was even tempted to press her lips to his neck. She wondered how he’d react. She should do it. She’d thrown all other caution to the wind today.

  At the last moment, she restrained her impish impulses. That would be taking their charade too far, right?
She couldn’t possibly have Franco brush off her advances. If so, how would she ever live with him for the next six months? Therefore, she had to tamp down these unexpected and unwanted desires. But that was easier said than done, because her body refused to abide. Instead of stepping back and allowing space between them, she stayed right there pressed up against him.

  All the while their bodies brushed together and an undeniable flame of desire was building into a massive inferno that threatened to consume her. What was Franco thinking? Did he desire her as much as she wanted him?

  She thought of lifting her head to look into his eyes and ask him, but she didn’t have the nerve to do it. Because while she was looking for signs of desire in his eyes, he’d be able to see her own growing desire for him. It was best to stay where she was. Because when he held her so close, there was no way he could read anything in her expression. As for body language, well, that was a totally different subject.

  Franco stopped moving. Disappointment swelled up within her. With great regret, she lifted her head. “You don’t want to dance any longer?”

  He smiled at her. “The music has stopped, amore.”

  She tried to listen over the pounding of her heart. It was then that she realized the music had indeed stopped. And when she glanced around, she found they were alone on the dance floor.

  “Where did everyone go?”

  “Home, I imagine.”

  The only others were the band and some servers who were clearing the last of the glasses. A sense of disappointment came over her when she realized the celebration was over. She understood the absurdity of such a thought, because in the beginning she’d been the one dreading this wedding. And yet Franco had gone out of his way to make it a very enjoyable evening.

  As a cool breeze off the lake brushed over her bare skin, she found herself rubbing her arms. With autumn not far off, the evenings were growing much cooler. Funny that she hadn’t noticed the dip in the temperature at all when she’d been wrapped in Franco’s arms.

  “Shall we go inside?” Franco asked.

  “We’re staying here tonight?”