Hiring Cupid (4 page)

Carly shifted uncomfortably in her seat and managed to pull her hand from his, wrapping her arms in a protective huddle across her chest. Battling down her nerves, she chewed on her bottom lip and twisted away from Marco so she faced the small window. She stared blankly out.

One minute she was like a scared rabbit, the next she wanted to wrap her arms around his neck and ... oh heavens, this was way off the scale of sensible.

"Am I doing my job right?” he whispered in her ear.

Carly bolted upright. She tried to smile—and failed. Beads of sweat dotted her forehead and the silk blouse she'd donned this morning stuck to her sweat-dampened skin like glue. “Yes, perfect, everything is fine,” she lied and looked down at the broad hand that spanned hers again.

As the helicopter passed over the expanse of the gulf, Carly drew in deep, slow breaths to fortify her raging nerves and control her silent hysterics. She could cope with temporary. Couldn't she?

"Okay people, we're about to land,” the pilot's voice interrupted.

Four days on paradise was about to begin.

Fifty metres ahead lay the island. Carly leaned forward and rested her forehead on the chilly glass panel taking in the beauty below. Luxurious verdant palms littered the foreshore and through the shift of swaying fronds she could see the outline of the four cabins.

"This is your paradise?” Marco questioned as he leaned close and stared down at the dot in the ocean.

Carly held her breath, letting it go in one long whoosh. She nervously licked her lips, then managed to find her voice. “The island is remote, accessible only by boat or helicopter. A generator will provide power and thankfully there's running water,” she said feeling more in control with every passing second.

Control? Who are you kidding, Carly Mason?

"You are a mine of information,
cara mia
."

She pulled back a bit, pushing herself into her seat to give herself some space from him. “You don't have to do the
cara mia
stuff,
yet
."

Marco shrugged. “Perhaps not, but it is the language of love."

"Love?” she croaked.

"
Si
. We should practice."

Oh, no. No. No. “Over my dead body."

"That's no fun, at all."

"This isn't about fun, Mr. Valente,” she countered.

"It's not?” He gave her a teasing frown. “And here I thought I would have four days of fun, sand, and..."

"You're playing a part, Marco Valente. Remember that. Acting. It's not real."

"Then, let us see how well we can act, hmm?"

Carly spun away, riveting her gaze back to the golden sands glittering under the full heat of a cloudless February sky. Oh, Lordy. This was going to be harder than she expected.

Remember it's a game.

Carly remembered. Now, all she had to do was play the part and keep her heart closed. She had no time for foolish love games. Love got you nowhere. Her family was a prime example of love's undoing.

Within minutes they had landed, exited, and the whirring beast turned to fly back to Auckland. Unsure what to do next, Carly hesitated.

"You are expecting your friends,
si
?"

"Of course. They're meant to be here already.” She looked towards the first cabin tucked behind a group of palms, and frowned.

"Where's the reception committee? There doesn't appear to be anyone.” Marco's cool voice dripped the obvious, making Carly grit her teeth.

"I can see that. Come on.” She walked ahead. “They must be up at the cabins.

But they weren't. The first cabin was empty. And the next one, and the next. They were all empty. With Marco watching her, assessing her reaction, it sent a prickle of tension fluttering down her spine. “Do you think they perhaps joke?"

"Don't be silly, of course they're here. Well, I mean, they will be."

"You sound so sure."

"I am,” she determined, though in truth, she had begun to harbor a nagging doubt. And it certainly wasn't a pleasant feeling. She cringed at the thought and childishly checked under the beds as if expecting them to jump out and shout ‘
surprise'
.

A few minutes later Marco walked toward her with long strides, his muscles rippling under the taut denim. Carly pulled her gaze away. No time for that. “I think you may need to read this."

He held out a piece of paper. She took it, mindful not to let her fingers touch his. Been there, done that and she didn't want to do it again, though the flicker of amusement that crossed his tanned face told her he could read her mind, knew exactly what she tried to avoid. She opened the note.

"
Carly, sorry can't make it. Time for you to have fun for once with the sexy hunk you've been telling us about
.” Her friends had signed it.

"How could they?” She re-read it just in case. Nope. Every single word was the same. “Blast.” She screwed up the paper into a tight ball and let it drop to the floor. “This is a nightmare. They can't do this."

Her niggling doubt had become a reality.

"You're friends aren't coming."

"What do you think? Do you have to sound so happy about it?"

Marco's brows rose a fraction and he held up his hands in surrender.

"Sorry, it's not your fault,” she said with some contrition.

"I presume I'm meant to be the sexy hunk."

"Sex doesn't come into it. We've discussed that. This was a temporary assignment so to speak."

"And I was the man you hoped to put on show to your friends."

"You knew the deal,” she defended.

Her head dipped imperceptibly as a raging heat of embarrassment threaded its way up her neck and face. She wished the ground would open and swallow her.

"This is too much. This is way beyond the Richter scale of embarrassment.” She stomped across the sand, uncaring that her expensive shoes were filling with sand. “I'm thirty years of age and I had to hire a man as a companion. I've lied through my teeth, lied about having the most fabulous man on earth at my beck and call, a man who loved me to distraction. What a fool."

"Not a fool, perhaps misguided."

Marco stood behind her.

"Misguided nothing,” she said spinning round to face him. “Work is my life, Mr. Valente. I've no time for frivolity, and see, the moment I let my guard down, think maybe, just maybe I can join in with the gang, it turns into a disaster.” Carly turned sharply and gazed into the horizon, a hand guarding her eyes against the brilliant sunlight. “We'll have to call the helicopter back. Where's your phone?” She began to pace back and forth along the sand, muttering under her breath, annoyed she'd been stupid enough to leave hers behind. “This is ridiculous. I can't stay here. So much for enjoying the delights of a tropical island.” Right now, she wanted to be off this beach as fast as possible.

"Stop!” Marco's strident tone brought her to an abrupt halt. “I presume you don't want to stay?"

Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped as a bilious wave in the pit of her stomach threatened to embarrass her any second. “You do?"

"Why not?” he shrugged. “This island is paradise. Nobody around. Total silence. You look like you could do with a break.” His voice lowered and eyes narrowed so that she could no longer see their clear blue depths, no chance of reading his mind. He looked her over, head to foot in one long and very slow drift spiking her nausea to tsunami proportions.

"But we'd be alone,” she croaked.

"It's a problem?"

Carly swallowed. She knew her protests sounded like some school kid, scared of her own reflection and struggled to pull herself together. “I take it you haven't got a mobile?"

He shook his head. “Think of it as an adventure."

"Adventure I can do without."

"Suit yourself.” He turned to walk away.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting comfortable. We're here for four days. Might as well make ourselves at home.” He turned his back on her and walked into the closest cabin carrying their bags, stopping at the doorway. “I'm accepting fate."

"Fate. You say it like it's a challenge."

"Life's a series of challenges and obstacles,
cara mia
. Do you run from challenges?"

Panic welled in her gut. “Four days!"

"Four days, alone,” Marco corrected with a throaty chuckle.

Carly choked. Okay, so it was always going to be four days, but four days
alone
with a stranger. “I can't do this."

"You organized it,” Marco dismissed her argument.

"That's it.” Carly stormed into the cabin, hands on her hips. “You're getting on my nerves. You seem to have an answer for everything. Four days may be all right for you, a free holiday and getting paid for it, but that was when I thought there would be others around."

"Don't worry, I'm not an axe murder."

"I sure hope not,” she shot back turning away from his intense scrutiny. Damn the man. He made her more nervous by the minute. Heck, this whole situation was making her very aware of him, when she really didn't want to be.

Oh yeah, why not?

Not for the first time, did she wonder what on earth had she gotten herself into? Four days, alone, with a man who was as sexy as sin, and sinning, according to the deal she'd struck, wasn't on the agenda.

Was it fate?

Unpacking her few belongings took only minutes, but Carly delayed it as long as she could, hoping vainly something, or someone, would turn up, wave a magic wand, and she'd be back at work and all would be right with the world. “Where is a fairy godmother when you want one?” she moaned.

The heat finally drew her back outside. Grateful for the soft wash of the onshore breeze, Carly tried to focus on how she was going to get through this catastrophe.

For the first time in many years she felt out of her depth. She had no control of the situation and she didn't like it. Work was what she knew. Work she could control and thankfully she'd brought her laptop at the last minute.

"Work.” That was the answer. She'd bury herself in work and ignore him, then hey presto, she'd be back to reality and could tell her friends she and the mystery man broke up. She had no idea where Marco was and told herself she didn't care

Coming to a rocky outcrop she plopped down and dangled her feet in the crystal clear water, refreshing in the summer heat. It was a shame about the holiday. This place was the perfect place for lovers.

"Huh!” Carly snorted. Lovers maybe, but not her. She didn't have time for love. Her ego had gotten her into this pickle. Next time...

Carly brought herself up sharply. What was she thinking? There wouldn't be a next time.

Not wanting to interrupt her, Marco stood back as he watched the play of dejection on Carly's face. She looked so alone and it made him wonder why such a woman as articulate, entertaining, and successful as Carly Mason needed to go to such lengths for a companion? And, did he mention stunningly beautiful. It made no sense, but he couldn't deny it—she intrigued him. Just then, she turned to him and shot him a tentative smile, barely holding back tears, showing a vulnerability he'd not seen before. It cut deeply into him, urging him to take her in his arms, to protect and soothe. But something held him back. If he touched her, she would probably jump up and try and swim back to the mainland right now.

"You don't seem happy,” he said as he sat down beside her.

"Would you be? It seems my friends have played a joke on me."

"You mean leaving you here with your mystery man?"

Carly choked back a strangulated laugh and a single tear trailed down her cheek.

Marco swallowed hard and folded his arms behind him, biting back the compulsion to hold her, to wipe away her tears. “They didn't know you invented a boyfriend. From what that note says they thought you needed to ease off work and beef up the play time."

"What do they know?"

"They know you."

"Yeah, I suppose so,” Carly grudgingly admitted. “I work long hours. I wasn't born with a silver spoon, and besides, I have a family to support. Sisters who would rather phone me for a loan than go out and get a job."

"So you work your butt off for everyone else?"

"That's about it."

"And in the meantime, you get no time to play?"

Good grief, what was she doing, spilling her life story to a stranger? Carly looked at the man at her side, but saw no humor, or accusing glint in his eyes. Instead, there was sympathy. She gritted her teeth. “Don't you dare offer me sympathy, Marco Valente. I don't need anybody, or owe anyone anything."

"Okay, okay. I get the picture,” he surrendered.

Carly stared out at the ocean, watching the sway as the water lapped at the foreshore with constant regularity. Then she spoke quietly, more to herself than Marco. “See the tide. Coming in. Going out. It's consistent. That's how I like my life. Constant and regular. No upsets."

"And you have such control?"

Carly nodded.

"Since you're here, why don't you enjoy yourself?” he suggested.

"Enjoy?"

Marco laughed. “You make it sound like it's an anathema."

"You could say that. I haven't had much time to play. Besides most men tend to want me to be the play thing,” she admitted ruefully, unable to stem the heat flooding her cheeks.

"You're a beautiful woman."

"Thank you."

"You don't believe me?"

She shook her head.

Marco groaned audibly. “
Cara mia
, you are a temptation I'm unable to resist. Or want to,” he uttered. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her to him.

Carly tensed as his body quivered, and felt the thrust of his rapid heartbeat pulsing against hers. She smiled. Marco Valente wasn't as cool, calm, or collected as he appeared to be and it was rather satisfying to know it. He didn't demand anything else of her and she found herself relaxing into his embrace, resting her head on his chest.

"You smell of lavender,” he said. He brushed her hair back just as his mouth grazed the oh-so-very sensitive skin behind her ear and Carly's heart skipped a beat.

"Intoxicating, just like the scent of the Tuscan hills. Fragrant and enticing and so very desirable."