The Wedding Contract by Nicola Marsh

Author:Nicola Marsh
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2013-09-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVEN

AMBER closed her eyes and leaned back as the plane taxied down the runway and took off. ‘Drained’ would only begin to describe how she felt after afternoon tea with Georgia Rockwell; try pummelled, browbeaten, interrogated and thoroughly chewed up and spat out.

Yeah, that was more like it. From the first minute the designer-clad woman had laid eyes on her she’d turned up her pert nose and kept it there, treating her new daughter-in-law like an unwanted disease.

Sure, she’d appeared polished and refined, from the top of her French chignon to the soles of her imported stilettos, but her calculated barbs had struck home on several occasions, leaving Amber feeling like a voodoo doll stabbed by a million pins. If she’d thought Steve had some hang-ups, she’d done him a disservice. She should give him a medal for turning out as well as he had, considering his mother.

‘Do you want something to eat?’ Steve’s solicitous tone only served to rile her further. She wanted to rant and rave against the injustice of having had to face that woman; it was all his fault.

Her eyes flew open and she fixed him with a glare, blaming her rolling stomach on unresolved tension rather than lack of food. ‘I’m not hungry.’

‘How about a drink, then? Looks like you need one.’

If he smiled, she would hit him. ‘No thanks to you.’

‘Hey. What did I do?’ He tried to look innocent and failed miserably. Besides, with that striking face, and eyes that could pierce her to her soul, she seriously doubted Steve Rockwell had ever looked innocent in his entire life.

‘You could have warned me.’ A little voice inside her head reminded her he had—but nothing could have prepared her for the harridan that passed as Steve’s mother.

The smile that had been threatening to drive her over the edge suddenly broke through. ‘I did. You just didn’t listen.’

Despite her anger, her pulse responded in typical staccato fashion. ‘She almost ate me alive!’

Amber squirmed at the recollection of her mother-in-law’s disgusted look when she’d spied her toe-ring and said, ‘What is that thing?’ Her subconscious, like a devil prodding her with his pitchfork, had tempted her to lift her top and show off her navel-ring too, but she’d succumbed to decorum and ignored it.

‘Don’t worry about her. I don’t.’ He accepted two glasses of wine from a stewardess and handed her one. ‘Here. This should hit the spot.’

Amber took a sip, enjoying the refreshing crispness of the Barossa grapes she’d quickly grown accustomed to. The wine was just one of the perks of being a Rockwell; she’d rarely flown before, but travelling first class was something she could definitely get used to. Steve had opened her eyes to a world of luxury she’d never dreamed of, let alone thought she could have one day. A pity she couldn’t have the one thing she now wanted—his heart.

‘We don’t really know much about each other, do we?’ She noted the sudden tensing of his shoulders, the downward turn of his lips, and for the hundredth time wondered why she couldn’t hold her tongue.

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