The Playboy’s Unexpected Bride

“When you’re done mentally undressing me,” she said coldly, “perhaps we can get down to business.”

Linc raised one dark eyebrow.

“Trust me, Miss Marques. If I wanted to undress you, I wouldn’t be satisfied with doing it mentally.” He paused. “And neither would you.”

A flush rose in her cheeks. “Would you force yourself on me again, senhor? As you did the night we met?”

“Is that why you returned my kiss? Because I ‘forced’ myself on you?”

“I did not return it. And I am not about to be drawn away from the topic at hand.”

“What were you doing in that garden?”

“I just said—”

“Among other things, you blew past my best security system.”

She smiled the way a cat might when confronted with a delectable mouse. “Indeed, I did.”

Time to change direction. “Do you make it a habit to sneak around at night?”

“Do you make it a habit to force yourself on women?”

Back to the beginning. Linc sighed. “Let’s move on, Miss Marques. What are you doing here?”

“I am here because of the promise you made my father Have you conveniently forgotten? Or did you hope I would not wish to follow through on it? Is that the game?”

Calmer now, Linc decided this couldn’t concern a marriage proposal. Her father would be with her if it were. Still, he had no idea what she was talking about but only a fool would have admitted it. Instead, he sat back and flashed a cool smile.

“Why don’t you tell me, Miss Marques? You seem to have all the answers.”

He was afraid it sounded like a desperate ploy but it worked. A moment’s hesitation and then she marched to one of the chairs in front of his desk, sat down, crossed her legs and propped the attaché case in her lap. The pencil-slim skirt of her black suit rode up her golden thighs.

“My father asked a favor of you.”

Linc dragged his gaze to her face.

“Funny. I don’t remember him asking anything—but then,” he said, his tone hardening, “you seem to have forgotten that I left your home in a rush that night.”

Another splash of color swept across her high cheek-bones. “About that.” She cleared her throat. “I should have offered you my sympathy on the loss of your sister.”

“Thank you.”

Ana narrowed her eyes. The words were polite but she knew what this arrogant bastardo really meant was, Go away. Anyone viewing the scene would have thought she’d materialized out of the air instead of taking the elevator from Human Resources, two floors below.

Was he playing dumb? Could he really not know why she was so angry? He knew. He had to. He also knew damned well that he’d lied. That he’d said yes to her father only to placate him and had never, not in a million years, expected her to show up in New York.

If only Papa had never asked him.

She’d considered telling him not to, once she’d realized the man who’d forced his kisses on her that night was the man he was going to entrust her to, but how could she?

She’d worked a minor miracle, convinced Papa to let her take a stab at a career in New York, the city where all things were possible. She could have gone off without his approval, yes, but she knew her desire for independence pained him. She wanted to do it without hurting him, and she had.

After months of talk, Papa had finally agreed to let her go, but only if he hand-picked her employer.

“A good man,” he had said. “An honorable one with a successful business.”

Papa knew lots of good, honorable men who were successful. They were also middle-aged, overweight and balding. That was the kind of man she’d expected.

Instead, Papa’s selection had turned out to be Lincoln Aldridge. Tall. Dark. Not middle-aged, not overweight, not balding.

Lincoln Aldridge was a magnificent male specimen.

He was also a sexist pig who’d overpowered her, forced her into his arms, forced his kisses on her, forced her to melt against him and yearn, plead, burn for him to do more, more, more…

Nonsense.

It hadn’t been like that. She had been offended by his behavior and she would have told Papa the ugly truth about the good, honorable Senhor Aldridge, but Aldridge had gotten that terrible phone call about his sister.

After that, Ana had assumed Papa’s plan was done with. Then, last week, he’d showed her the letter he’d written and Aldridge’s response…

“Miss Marques?”