His Bride for the Taking Read Free Page B

right to even ask.
    He leaned closer still—another millimeter and his body would be pressed against hers. Those lush, cherry-colored lips were clamped together. He caught her scent, something with an underlying zing of fresh citrus, and he felt the heat of her body radiating from her. Pushing a lock of the ridiculous dark hair—nowhere near as attractive as her natural auburn—behind her delicate ear, he put his lips close. “We’ll talk in my car.”
    She tensed. “We don’t need to talk.”
    Another patron passed too close, knocking into Rafe, who knocked into Alexia. His grip tightened around her.
    Suddenly, flashes went off, blinding in their brightness. Rafe pulled Alexia hard against his chest, shielding her face and turning so his back was to the continuing pop of the flashes.
    Damn. The paparazzi were supposed to be banned from this place. Tony had assured him of the impenetrable security.
    He glanced back over his shoulder. There the leeches were, three guys with cameras pointing them in the direction of the blonde actress. Unfortunately, Alexia and he, although behind the actress, were in their line of sight.
    “Clearly, we do need to talk.”
    Only moments too late, the club’s bouncers strode through the crowd toward the cameramen. Barbie and her entourage were shrieking in outrage, but Rafe got the feeling the outrage was as much an act as her last Oscar-nominated role.
    Rafe looked down into wide green eyes belatedly filled with concern. He felt the press of breasts against his chest, felt Alexia’s slender fragility within the circle of his arms. She was smaller than he’d realized, and shorter, even with her death-defying heels. The top of her head was tucked neatly beneath his chin.
    He felt other things, things he shouldn’t feel for his brother’s proposed bride. The protectiveness was okay, it was the pleasure and possessiveness that botheredhim. He told himself that they were almost automatic responses when he held a woman in his arms. It didn’t mean anything except that he had to let her go. He loosed his hold on her, putting a safer distance between them.
    One of the actress’s party made a lunge for a photographer’s camera. A punch was thrown, then another.
    Rafe shepherded Alexia away from the tussle. Worry creased her forehead even as the bouncers quickly separated the opponents and dragged the guy who’d thrown the first punch away with the photographers.
    “Do you think we’re in the shots?” She bit her bottom lip.
    At least she realized how it would look if pictures of the two of them in a nightclub, standing close, got into the papers at home. Or if they were implicated in the brawl, which, given the way the press liked to play with the truth, wouldn’t surprise him in the least. The public of San Philippe would be curious. Adam would be furious. And if anything happened to jeopardize his father’s plans, Rafe would be in the firing line. He just needed to get this one simple job done. Get Alexia back to San Philippe—without a scandal—and wash his hands of her. How hard could it be?
    He shook his head. “I’m scarcely known here, and you, fortunately, hardly look like yourself. Even if we’re in the background, they weren’t after us. We’ll be cropped out.”
    “Fortunately?”
    “Don’t sound offended. You deliberately tried todisguise yourself. For good reason. So, yes, fortunately.” He didn’t add that in other respects it was most un fortunate. The figure-hugging dress, her long legs, the satiny skin of her arms, the curl of her lashes, her scent. All most unfortunate. Where was the boring—safe—Alexia? “How did you get here?” His question sounded harsher than he meant it to.
    “Motorbike,” she answered, with a glimmer of defiance.
    He hid his surprise. “You rode?” That had been her on the bike?
    Her chin lifted. “With Mario.”
    “In that dress?” He had a sudden vision of the dress riding high up a creamy expanse of thigh.
    “I