Accidentally Married to the Billionaire 1(31)

Brandon had ordered her an evening dress. When the shopper had asked what he wanted, he specified something fearless, for a woman with a great body. The store had sent two possibilities, and he had rejected the bright pink bandage dress as too tacky. Marj was stunning and sexy, not tawdry looking. The one he’d chosen was no full skirted Cinderella-style ball gown, but a body con mini dress, black with sheer gold panels slashing down the sides and across the shoulders to hug her form and give the shadowy peek of her flesh. He waited for her reaction.

There was no yelp of surprise, no delighted squeal, no aggravated slam of the box against the wall. Only a worrying silence. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and waited, debating the wisdom of going in to check on her. He checked the time, then checked it again because he hadn’t paid attention to the numbers the first time. When he looked up, there she stood.

His bride, breathtaking in the body hugging black and gold dress, her auburn hair tumbling loose in curls down her back. His eyes swept her from head to toe and back again. A sly smile played at her rosy lips, and she did a slow turn like a model on a runway and his mouth went dry. He must be thirsty, he thought reasonably. Dry mouth had nothing to do with one hell of a body barely contained by that tantalizing dress. She looked provocative. He had to rein in this rather inconvenient enthusiasm for how delectable she looked.

“I thought I’d show you the roof terrace, since we have penthouse,” he said, offering his arm.

To her credit, Marj took his arm as if it were something she did every day which he doubted. There wasn’t enough formal arm holding, in his opinion, especially when it involved Marj close by his side, her red manicure bright against his black sleeve as she squeezed his bicep appreciatively.

He brought her to the spiral iron staircase leading up to the rooftop and followed her up, admiring the curve of her backside in the clingy dress, the strong, lean thighs that were revealed every time the hem hitched up for her to climb a stair. He wanted to loosen his tie from the heat. She’d said Las Vegas was about two hundred degrees outside. Perhaps outdoors wasn’t the best locale for a romantic meal, he thought now, hoping that there would be a cool breeze on the roof. He knew there was ice water. Maybe he’d just casually dump the entire contents of the champagne bucket over his head to cool down from the heady combination of her long legs and the memory of those legs wrapped around him.

The rooftop was set up as breathtakingly as he’d ordered. A ring of votives flickered their patterns of light on the white tablecloth, a small crystal vase of lush white peonies in the center of the circle of candles. Two chairs tucked in at the intimate table bedecked with white and platinum china. The silver champagne bucket stood alongside the table. Brandon pulled out her chair and pressed the remote by his plate. A uniformed waiter appeared with glasses of cabernet for them. She sipped with a smile and replaced her glass.

“Will you be having the seared sea bass or the roasted vegetable napoleon?” the waiter inquired.

“Sea bass, please,” she replied with a smile.

Brandon made a mental note that she liked having a choice. He was glad he hadn’t just ordered for both of them.

“What’s the occasion?” she asked after the waiter withdrew.

“We need to have a conversation, and we need to have a wedding dinner. I saw no reason not to combine the two,” he said gallantly, “is the dress to your taste? I’m afraid I erred on the side of selecting something I’d like to see you in myself,” Brandon continued.

“It’s gorgeous. It’s shorter than what I would choose for myself, but I still like it,” she said quickly.

“The shop also sent over some sort of pink bandage dress. It was very pink,” he grimaced.

“Hey, I like pink,” she laughed.

“Then perhaps I should not have sent it away. It was offensively bright,” he said.

“You’re such a grouch. You probably think I’m offensively bright, too,” she said cheekily.

“Not at all. I find you uncommonly lovely, in fact. Lovelier than I’d like to admit,” he said, taking her hand.

“Why is that?” she asked.

“Because I need a wife to secure my inheritance and a business arrangement would have been preferable. I made a mistake...” he began.

“We both made a mistake. I take equal blame for this,” she interrupted.

“No, I don’t think you understand, Marjorie. Please let me finish. I made a rather serious error in that I married a stranger and as luck would have it, that stranger is someone I can feel myself falling for. I don’t want complications like this. I wanted a nice cut and dry arrangement so I could get what I deserve. I didn’t want you to be charming and funny and gorgeous. Pleasant and calm would have been better, someone who didn’t interest me much at all. What I’m saying is I think I got myself in too deep when I married you. I don’t think there’s much chance of my getting out of this unscathed. I meant to put a few million on the line, but never my heart.”