Hiring Cupid (3 page)

"I need someone to accompany me to an island. Four days. That's all. I'll pay you of course. You don't have to do anything, just be there."

"You want a gigolo?"

"I do not!"

"Then, what for may I ask?"

She wished he hadn't. “You have a right to know,” she admitted grudgingly, knowing how embarrassing the whole scenario sounded, even before she uttered a word.

He nodded, but remained silent, eyes narrowed, assessing. His forthright appraisal sent a shiver of alarm chasing up and down her spine.

Steel yourself, Carly.

She sat back and picked up her coffee as a spasm of disquiet interrupted her confidence. Maybe this was a mistake. Finally, she spoke. “My friends are expecting me."

"To this island?"

Inwardly, she groaned. This was like pulling teeth, without pain killers. “Yes."

"Go on,” he nodded.

But Carly didn't want to go on; she wanted to disappear, to run away and forget the whole, completely absurd idea. Talk about wishful thinking. Suddenly the idea was just too way out there to be good.

Was she nuts?

Two days in a row she'd been thinking weird thoughts, acting totally out of character and all because of this man.

You're desperate
.

How true. She was. So gathering her courage she carried on. “My friends and I were to take a holiday with our boyfriends, but ah ... um,” she halted and her gaze lowered.

"You don't have one,” he filled in for her.

Oh how pathetic did that sound. But she wouldn't go down without a fight. “No. I don't. It started out as a joke. My friends have partners. I don't, but I sort of made one up."

Oh, dear heaven. And Marco's understanding only made her more embarrassed. Resolutely she stared at the sugar bowl, the scattered granules drawing her attention with something akin to fascination. Far better than the reality of staring at a stranger, who had beautiful, soul searching eyes. Bedroom eyes.

"Sort of?” he queried softly.

"Mm.” She gave him a fleeting grimace. “The usual kind, tall, dark, and handsome. Unfortunately, it got out of hand. Now they're expecting me to present my mystery man. We're to spend four days on a private island. There are cabins. Everything is provided. You won't need a thing. I'd pay you of course.” Carly snapped her mouth closed. Darn it. She was babbling.

"Clothes are required I presume."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You said I wouldn't need a thing. I presume this isn't a nudist colony and I'll need clothes."

"You're teasing me, right?"

"Of course,” he assented, allowing her to see that way too sexy grin once more. “That way I get to see the pretty pink blush on your cheeks."

"Oh...” Carly's jaw dropped and she did exactly what he wanted and felt a warmth creep up her neck, pervading her cheeks. “You're toying with me."

"
Si
.” He shrugged. “And it's working."

Her lips pursed. Damn it. She
was
falling for his smooth lines. She wasn't experienced with men—except in business. Business she could handle, but this...? Smooth, sexy, and with eyes that made her want to shout
yes
and jump onto his lap. That was way off the scale as far as she was concerned.

Carly stiffened. Blast the man. This wasn't what she wanted. She needed to be in control here and not let this man have power over her. She leveled her gaze with his once more.

"You want me to be your paramour for four days, be attentive?” he queried.

Even to her ears the idea sounded perverse and she wished for the umpteenth time she hadn't let it get so out of hand. She nodded.

"Not a problem."

"It's not?"

"
Si
. It's perfect. What would be more so? Days spent isolated with a beautiful woman."

Oh heavens. With the velvety rich resonance of his accent sending goose bumps down her spine, he made it sound so decadent. She struggled to restrain her wanton thoughts and keep her tone business-like. It was the hardest thing she'd ever done. She had to get away from him, from temptation, get back to reality, and control. Quickly she told him the details, offered him a set sum that he agreed to, and they arranged to meet at the heliport on Thursday, ten a.m. sharp.

"I have an appointment. I must go. See you Thursday.” Flustered, knowing his narrowed gaze was on her, Carly hurriedly stood up, but just as she was about to leave a worrying thought caught her off-guard and she stalled. “This island, there are cabins, but to put your mind at ease, there are two bedrooms in each. You'll have your own room."

"
Grazie
. I am relieved. Two bedrooms,
cara mia
, what else could a man want with a beautiful woman as his companion?” The corner of his mouth flickered, expansive and very kissable and once again Carly's control slipped more than a few notches.

She snatched up her bag, desperate to douse her raging nerves and ignore her niggling conscience. She'd never done something so off track, so spontaneous. Spontaneity wasn't on her to do list. Her world was order, systems, and goals. Finally she found her voice. “Right. I'll see you."

"Thirty-six hours and counting,
cara mia
."

Marco leveled his gaze on Carly Mason's long legs as she strode over the cobbled street, racing as if the devil was after her. He grinned. He may not be the devil, but he was after her—in a sense.

She was some woman. All woman, and unknowingly, the woman who had kept him awake all night, something that had never happened to him before. Marco smiled. Their chance meeting was a blessing from on high. Ordering another coffee, he eased his large frame back into the chair and let out a heavy sigh, frowning as he spied a wedding magazine in the free-to-read pile in the cafe. He dragged a hand through his tousled hair. Sleep deprivation was not good for his mood and meeting Carly had turned his emotions upside down. Hell, her proposal was incredulous, but that he'd accepted without a second thought socked him a punch he found inexplicable.

She had taken him by surprise, but one look at her long legs, spiky high heels, and a dress which clung to every delicious curve set his blood pumping and his nether regions reacting as if he was a schoolboy on fire. He found himself imagining what lay beneath that dress. Visions of frothy bits of lace and silk teased his senses, and despite the mid-day activity in the café, his eyes closed for a moment as his imagination ran wild.

It didn't last. A sharp cackle of laughter nearby dragged him back to reality and his eyes snapped open. What the hell was he doing, mentally undressing a woman he barely knew? But, he smiled, nevertheless. Four days on an island, albeit surrounded by her friends, would give him ample opportunity to get to know Carly Mason.

Oh, yeah.

It was a good opportunity and Marco always took opportunities. Opportunities had taken him to the top. But then, there was no need to tell Carly exactly who he was.

Nope, for now, he'd enjoy the freedom. That his public profile wasn't so widespread was more due to his diligence rather than the ineptitude of the paparazzi.

However, that sadly was about to change along with the status of his business with its global expansion. CV Hotels had taken up his every waking hour for months and as the project heated up, the noose tightened, choking him, dragging him through a mire of minutiae that needed sorting. This was his dream. Something he'd worked long and hard to achieve. Even so, he needed time out and four days with a long legged woman with hair the color of autumn was a plus.

Besides, there was another reason. Four days escape would provide respite from his mother's constant marriage prattle which had increased ten-fold in recent months. As much as he loved his mother, he was beginning to believe she was a serial bride, constantly on the look out for a husband. Such escapades while he was growing up had absolutely put Marco off marriage forever.

Nope. Playing lover, not husband, was the order of the day, and if Carly Mason wanted a gigolo to play Romeo to her Juliet, then she would get one, as long as he didn't have to die like the bard's hero.

"Where the heck is he?” Carly paced the heliport's forecourt and for the umpteenth time glanced at her watch.

He was late.

Okay, so it was only two minutes, but late was late. She scanned the distance. There was no motorbike in sight. Her lips pressed into a thin, disapproving line. If there was one thing she hated most in the world, it was tardiness. She liked order, control, and certainly for people to be on time.

"You waiting for me?"

Marco's thickly sensual drawl stung like a bee and she whipped round. “You're late,” she accused.

His dark brows arched. “Sorry, Miss. Did you think I wouldn't come?"

"Of course not."

"Liar."

Carly reddened. Okay so she had, but only a fleeting, teensy bit.

Marco folded strong arms across his chest and she couldn't help but admire his rippling muscles. The pulse in her throat throbbed, and suddenly there didn't seem to be enough oxygen. She struggled to find her voice, not something she normally had problems with.

"The pilot's ready to take off. Let's go."

"Yes ma'am.” And he saluted.

Carly halted. She took a deep, steadying breath. Several actually. One just wouldn't cut it. Not with Mr. Adonis’ teasing remarks. With slow deliberation she faced him, holding herself rigid. She looked him eye to eye.

Admit it, they are great eyes!

"Sh..."

"Pardon?"

She exhaled in a whoosh and her shoulders sagged. “This is a fiasco."

Yeah, and you're right in it.

"Look, I'm sorry, put it down to nerves,” she said.

"Are you afraid of me?"

Her lips twisted into a grimace. This man was very perspicacious. “Sort of. You've got to admit this is a weirdo situation."

"You asked me. Do you want to back out?"

"Too late,” she admitted ruefully. “They know we're coming.” Yeah, another dumb move. “I phoned my friends and told them we were coming.” And she had enthused about him. Talk about a web of deceit. Now she'd have to play schoolmarm too, ensuring he would remember everything she'd made up about him.

Dumb, Carly. Really, really dumb
.

For the next few minutes she proceeded to tell him just who exactly her Mr. Perfect was, every last gory detail.

"Do you think you can remember all that?"

"Not a problem. It is a fantasy, correct? Then we will fantasize.” Marco closed the space between them. “There's no need to be afraid of me,
cara mia.
"

Carly's head snapped up, her foolish musings disintegrating on the spot. She sucked a lung full of air and held her breath as the trace of his aftershave wound her senses up more than a few notches in the awareness stakes. She looked into his eyes. There was a softness, a twinkling in their azure depths.

He was only inches away from her when he lifted his hand and the pads of his fingers caressed her cheek. Carly swallowed. His almost sensual touch lit a fire in her belly, a desire, a...

Oh, heaven help me. Give me sanity. Where's my computer
?

"I'm not a villain, Carly Mason. I may not have a magic carpet, but since you've hired me for a few days, I can be your genie from the lamp."

"And I'm Aladdin?"

"
Si
. Your wish is my command. I will be the attentive boyfriend. Your friends will accept our love is true and passionate."

"They will?” she croaked.

"Sure. You and I will fool the world. Four days of sun, sand, and..."

"Then it's back to work,” she interrupted.

"Work? Is it so important?"

"It is to me,” Carly asserted, passing her bag to the pilot as she side-stepped Marco and seated herself in the helicopter. However, one thing troubled her. If he was the genie and she was Aladdin, she sure as heck wasn't about to ask which part she was to rub.

Within seconds the helicopter roared into life.

"Hold on, we're about to take off,” her partner in deceit said.

How could he look so calm? Wasn't he the least bit worried? She was terrified. What on earth had she done? He's a stranger. He's ... oh hell.

Carly knew her wayward reaction to Marco Valente was way off beam. She was out of her depth. Blinking back the urge to cry, she fought hard to rein in her out of control emotions.

Remember, the job is temporary.

The helicopter lifted off, darting away from the mainland and over the frothing green waters of Auckland's Hauraki Gulf. The city was noted for its many volcanoes, most of which thankfully were dormant, but then that was New Zealand. Volcanoes, mountain and rivers. A clean, green playground.

They were traveling at over one hundred and twenty kilometers an hour, though the perception seemed quite different—slower, as if gliding over the blue green waters below.

With Marco sitting beside her, Carly dissected her fanciful scheme. That he had agreed to it had taken her by surprise. But then, the last few days had been utter chaos and no one in their right mind would believe she would hire a cupid. She cast a quick glance in his direction. Marco Valente was far too good-looking and devilishly sexy.

Carly smiled.

He was exactly right for the job.

Dressed in a black T-shirt that stretched across his broad chest blatantly delineating a muscular torso and biceps, his long jean clad legs struggled to be contained in the small seating area. His slightly longer than fashionable hair with its smattering of gray tingeing his temples gave him a distinguished aura—though the unruly curl that constantly fell forward made Carly want to reach up and flick it—and of course let her fingers run through it at the same time.

Hold that thought.

And she did, and held his hand—as if her life depended on it. Well it did—sort of. At least it did if she wasn't to look a fool in front of her friends. She'd already resigned herself to going through with the charade. She would grit her teeth and smile sweetly if it meant once and for all she would get them off her back.

There was one unfortunate snag. Trying to ignore the electric tingle ricocheting up her arm and the scorching heat careering through her veins every time he touched her was quite a different thing.