Tangled Vows
Yvonne Lindsay
Can two business rivals find their happy-ever-after?An arranged marriage is the only way Yasmin Carter can save her family’s company. But the handsome man waiting at the altar is Ilya Horvath, her bitter business rival! Ilya plans to win over his reluctant bride with all the passion at his command…
The matchmaker’s instructions:
“Just show up for the wedding. I’ll supply the groom.”
An unorthodox arranged marriage is the only way Yasmin Carter can save her family’s struggling company. But the handsome man waiting at the altar is no stranger. He’s Ilya Horvath, her bitter business rival! The charismatic CEO plans to win over his reluctant bride with all the passion at his command…until a shocking web of secrets threatens to tear them apart.
A typical Piscean, USA TODAY bestselling author YVONNE LINDSAY has always preferred her imagination to the real world. Married to her blind-date hero and with two adult children, she spends her days crafting the stories of her heart, and in her spare time she can be found with her nose in a book reliving the power of love, or knitting socks and daydreaming. Contact her via her website, www.yvonnelindsay.com (http://www.yvonnelindsay.com).
Also by Yvonne Lindsay (#u2ffcc786-1dea-53eb-9ca2-469ba06d0dd6)
Honor-Bound Groom
Stand-In Bride’s Seduction
For the Sake of the Secret Child
Arranged Marriage, Bedroom Secrets
Contract Wedding, Expectant Bride
Tangled Vows
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Tangled Vows
Yvonne Lindsay
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-07653-1
TANGLED VOWS
© 2018 Dolce Vita Trust
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To the awesome team at Harlequin who shine my ideas and my words to a high polish and who dream up titles when I cannot and who create amazing covers for my readers to love and who take care of all the behind-the-scenes stuff I don’t even know about—thank you.
I wouldn’t be where I am without you all.
Contents
Cover (#u81b7edc8-b95a-5f38-b6a5-442399e4c595)
Back Cover Text (#u97408b55-c674-582e-a8c1-424d41f13f84)
About the Author (#u5c8f84a6-a632-5ca7-82f7-2cd530fab96b)
Booklist (#u1560f357-1431-5e84-9cf4-346c5f8bf5b8)
Title Page (#ud800ab61-883e-5ef4-97e7-b064b31ca0d5)
Copyright (#u5df6b61d-73f4-5237-a656-d98a2df17b67)
Dedication (#u97d52682-bcb1-5c97-859d-553190008039)
One (#u2e41c725-dc79-5011-9941-68080b5b6fe5)
Two (#ub2eff3b9-7a1a-545f-b124-a000792f57a6)
Three (#ud5133e22-0f66-5a1e-b584-da5786154e53)
Four (#u271e99d1-5913-526c-bcfa-e80f23842b5c)
Five (#u1da718dd-6d95-50b5-90b7-4e250bc753c2)
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Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
One (#u2ffcc786-1dea-53eb-9ca2-469ba06d0dd6)
“There’s been a terrible mistake.”
Yasmin Carter froze—poised in her wedding finery at the end of the royal blue carpet leading to the altar. She stared at the man who had just turned to face her. Ilya Horvath, heir apparent to the Horvath empire, CEO of her biggest business rival.
Her groom. The one she was meeting for the first time today.
Her eyes skimmed the small gathering of guests flanking the aisle. Their expressions registered varying degrees of dismay and shock at her words. She forced her gaze back toward Ilya. He did not look surprised...or amused. In fact, he looked annoyed.
Well, that was fine with her. She was pretty annoyed, too, right now, and she’d tell the Match Made in Marriage people at the first opportunity. When her office manager, Riya, had brought the matchmaking business to her attention, it had appeared to be a solution to her current business woes. Cost aside, she had stood to gain more if she went through the type of arranged marriage at first sight offered by Match Made in Marriage than if she remained single. She’d endured the psychometric testing and the interviews with the end goal in mind—securing an exclusive deal to handle Hardacre Incorporated’s corporate and family travel for the next five years. The company was a well-known motivational and business coaching enterprise that worked all over the country. That agreement was the golden treasure that would pull her small charter airline out of the red and back into the black—so she’d signed the detailed contract that stipulated she must stay married to her stranger-husband for at least three months without a second thought. But contract or no contract, this wedding simply could not happen.
She should never have entered into this ridiculous scheme to save her business, but her inside source had warned her that the owner’s wife would never allow her husband to do business on a regular basis with a beautiful, young, unmarried woman. Wallace Hardacre had a wandering eye but was known to leave married women alone.
It had seemed so simple. To seal the deal, she needed to be married. She knew she had everyone else’s quotes beaten on price. And it wasn’t as if she didn’t want to marry Mr. Right someday. She absolutely did. It was just that with running the company and all the hours that took, she didn’t have time to form quality relationships with men.
Her gaze caught and meshed with Ilya’s for just a moment and a shiver ran through her. Not of apprehension, exactly—something more primitive than that. But it was enough for her to be certain that this whole thing had been a mistake from the start.
Ilya Horvath might look as though he’d stepped from the pages of GQ but there was no way she could consider marrying him.
Physically, of course, he was perfect. Tall, with broad shoulders filling out his suit to perfection and a light beard wreathing his jaw, he was—in a word—gorgeous. Attraction rippled through Yasmin’s body, making the corset beneath her strapless bodice suddenly feel a hundred times tighter than when Riya had hooked her into it this morning. Yasmin clamped down on the sensation and forced herself to take a breath, reminding herself that mentally, emotionally, socially and fiscally he was all wrong for her. No, she couldn’t do this to her late granddad’s memory—not to the man who’d taken her in and raised her when her parents had dumped her on him so they could continue to pursue their adventures rather than face up to adulthood and responsibility. She couldn’t marry the man whose own grandfather, her granddad’s best friend, had stolen and married the woman her grandfather loved. Attraction was all very well and good, but not when two families had been feuding for as long as theirs had.
“There’s definitely been a mistake,” she repeated, more firmly this time.
She bent and gathered the fullness of her layered organza gown, completed a swift one-eighty and exited the ballroom as fast as her feet, clad in intricately beaded slippers, would carry her. There was total silence for a few seconds, then the room broke out in a clatter of noise that followed her down the wide corridor.
Yasmin didn’t know which way to go as she headed into the resort’s foyer. To the elevators and back to the luxurious honeymoon suite where she’d gotten ready this morning or straight out the front door and hope there was a cab waiting there? It was a long way from here in Port Ludlow, Washington, to her home in California. The fare would be—
“Yasmin!” a woman called from behind her. “Please, wait. We need to talk.”
Yasmin turned to face the petite, elegant older woman now approaching her. Alice Horvath—the woman responsible for the bitter rivalry between the Carters and the Horvaths these past sixty-plus years.
“There’s nothing you can say that will make me change my mind,” Yasmin said firmly.
“Just give me a moment of your time.” Alice put a gentle hand on Yasmin’s arm. “Please? It’s important.”
“Look, I—”
“Perhaps up in your suite would be best, more private.” Alice began to steer Yasmin toward the elevators.
The adrenaline that had surged through Yasmin’s body at the sight of her intended groom began to abate, leaving a dragging lethargy in its wake.
“Fine, but you, of all people, should know you’re wasting your time if you’re going to try and persuade me to marry your grandson.”
The older woman gave her a sweet smile in response but said nothing as they rode the elevator up to the honeymoon suite. Yasmin was surprised when Alice produced a key card that opened the door.
“Forgive me the intrusion,” Alice said, closing the door behind them. “I was merely holding the key for Ilya until after the ceremony.”
Yasmin didn’t know what to say or where to look, so she opted to plunk herself down on one of the sofas in the sitting room. Alice gracefully seated herself opposite.
“You have a right to know what’s going on.”
Damn right she did. Yasmin tightly squeezed the bound stems of her bouquet of pale pink roses and gypsophila to stop the trembling that had begun in her fingers and now threatened to travel up her arms and take over her entire body.
“Let me be frank with you, my dear. When you applied to Match Made in Marriage I immediately knew you and my grandson were compatible. I didn’t need the specialist tests to assure me that you and Ilya would very much be a perfect match.”
“I beg your pardon? You work with Match Made in Marriage? Are you telling me that you make the matches?” Yasmin replied in stunned surprise.
“It’s not widely known, of course, and we do take the tests and interviews into consideration, but more as a confirmation that I’m on the right track with my couples. Trust me when I say I’ve always had a knack for these things. Once I retired from the family firm it was purely common sense to turn my little talent into a business. When my grandson told me he was ready to marry and settle down, it was only natural he would turn to me, but I didn’t expect to find the perfect match for him so promptly. I have to say, getting your application was quite the surprise.”
* * *
Alice Horvath looked at the beautiful but clearly confused and angry young woman sitting opposite her and wished things could have been different between their families. That the painful rift between best friends hadn’t formed when Jim Carter and Eduard Horvath both fell in love with her and, eventually, fallen out forever when she chose Eduard for her husband. But this was her chance to make things right—to heal the wounds of so long ago and to put this stupid feud to bed once and for all.
If only she could persuade Yasmin to go ahead with the wedding.
She drew in a breath and chose her words carefully. If there was anything this young woman seemed to have a grasp of, it was business. Oh, yes, Alice knew that Carter Air was struggling. She also knew that Yasmin, despite having come up with the hefty commitment fee, could not afford to break the terms of the marriage contract she’d signed or attempt to sue Match Made in Marriage to get out of it.
Alice sighed softly and composed herself.
“I repeat, matching you and Ilya is no mistake. The two of you are perfectly suited to each other and are fully compatible when it comes to your values and your hopes and dreams for the future. I have every faith that you belong together and that you could make a long and very satisfying marriage.”
“But—”
Alice raised a hand. “Please, allow me to finish. There comes a time when the past has to be put behind us so we can look to the future. This is your time. I know that there’s been a great deal of bitterness between our families, that your grandfather and my Eduard ceased to have a civil word to say to each other after...” Alice blinked away the emotion, the weakness she couldn’t afford to show. “Suffice it to say that bitterness has tainted too many lives for far too long.”
“It’s not just a family feud, Mrs. Horvath—”
“Please, call me Alice,” she interrupted. “And, yes, I know it goes deeper than that. But I urge you to reconsider and to return to the ceremony. Everyone is waiting.”
“I can’t do it. I can’t go against everything I’ve ever been raised to believe. I can’t marry the man whose business is trying to put me out of business. I owe it to my staff and to my grandfather’s memory to walk away from this. I want to invoke the exit clause in my contract early. Ilya and I are incompatible on far too many levels.”
Yasmin’s gray eyes flashed with emotion, reminding Alice so much of Yasmin’s grandfather.
“Ah, my dear. So often pride comes before a fall. Your beloved grandfather aside, you owe it to your staff to go through with this. Let’s be honest. You’re not in the best position financially, are you?” Alice paused to let her words sink in. To ensure that Yasmin was aware that she knew exactly what the younger woman’s situation was right now. “The figures you provided as proof of your monetary position were inflated, to put it kindly, and before you ask, yes, we checked.”
Yasmin began to protest but Alice cut her off.
“You gave us every right to examine your financial situation when you signed the contract. Let’s be quite honest with each other. We both know you can most certainly do without the negative public fallout of walking away from your contractual obligations, not to mention the financial fallout from attempting to break your contract with Match Made in Marriage. I know you took out a loan to fund your application. A loan secured by the assets of Carter Air, I believe?”
She watched Yasmin grow pale as her words sank in.
“You’re threatening me with ruin? Really? All to make me marry your grandson?”
“Sometimes, my girl, the ends justify the means. Don’t you think your future happiness is worth it?”
“So you want me, specifically, to marry Ilya. Why?”
Alice studied Yasmin, her ashen face, her clear gray eyes, the set of her pretty mouth and the proud posture as she fought a battle she couldn’t win. She recognized the girl’s spirit; after all, hadn’t she been just such a young woman once? And Alice was no different now. She still fought hard for what was best for everyone she loved. This was important and she was convinced, beyond a doubt, that Ilya and Yasmin belonged together. She wouldn’t have made this match if she hadn’t known, deep in her bones, that they were right for each other. That “knack” she’d mentioned earlier—it had manifested early in her life. A knowing that some might call mumbo jumbo and others prescience. Whatever it was, it was her gift and she only used her gift for good.
Alice loved her eldest grandson, the son of her first-born son, more fiercely than she’d ever believed possible. This woman was the key to his long-term happiness—she knew it as surely as she knew she’d made the right decision when she’d chosen Eduard Horvath for her husband. As surely as she’d known every one of the matches she’d engineered was right. She only hoped Yasmin would come to see that, too.
“I love my grandson dearly, but he works too hard and, deep down, I don’t believe he’s happy. You, whether you realize it or not, hold the key to his future happiness. I wish nothing more than to see him and his bride happy together. It’s as simple—and as complicated—as that.” Alice flicked an invisible speck of dust off the sleeve of her impeccably tailored jacket. “Now, shall we return? We both know you can’t afford not to let this wedding go ahead.”
“But what about the clear conflict of interest? Ilya is my business rival. How are we to manage that?”
“That is something you will need to work out together.”
“No, that’s not enough for me. I need to know that the Horvaths will not interfere with Carter Air. Ilya’s company has either bought or driven out of business every other small charter company at the airfield. I will not let that happen to Carter Air. I made a promise to my grandfather that I would keep his legacy safe.”
Alice nodded and gave Yasmin a small smile of compassion. “Dear girl, I know you loved your grandfather dearly. For all his bluster and noise, he was a man who cared deeply. But sometimes promises made in the heat of the moment should be broken. Is Carter Air truly your passion, or are you merely holding onto an old man’s dream...and his bitterness?”
“How dare you say such a thing? His bitterness? You dumped him! In fact, you didn’t even have the decency to tell him yourself at the time. He had to read your engagement notice in the local paper.”
Alice felt a pang in her chest. “It was for the best.”
“You’ll have to forgive me if I disagree.” Yasmin got up from the sofa and began to pace the floor, the layers of her gown swirling around her like a cloud.
“Fine, I know I can’t afford to break the contract. I’ll go ahead with the wedding, but on one condition.”
“And that is?”
“That our companies remain as two separate entities and Ilya and I never discuss business.”
Alice rose and went to stand in front of Yasmin. “Your businesses are a big part of both your lives. Not being able to share and discuss your day’s work, your challenges and successes, means you’ll only be sharing half a life together. Are you sure this is a wise decision?”
Yasmin’s eyes darkened and her mouth firmed into a straight line before she spoke.
“It’s the only way. If he won’t agree to it then the wedding is off and you will release me from my contract with no penalty because while it would definitely harm my business if it was to be widely known I broke my contract with you, wouldn’t the same be true for Match Made in Marriage? After all, Ilya is your grandson. In itself that would raise eyebrows if your involvement in this was made public, wouldn’t it?”
Alice had to admire the girl’s mettle. She inclined her head slightly. “And you’ll accept my grandson’s word that he will honor your request? I’m sure you’ve heard that his word is his bond.”
Yasmin nodded.
“Fine. I will discuss it with my grandson.”
* * *
“I have to say I’m surprised at how well you’re coping,” Valentin Horvath leaned over and whispered in Ilya’s ear. “After all, it’s not every day a man is rejected by his bride on first sight. Maybe I’m biased, being family and all, but I didn’t think you were that ugly.”
Ilya clenched his jaw and deliberately counted to ten before answering his cousin, who also happened to be one of his closest friends. Valentin headed up Horvath Pharmaceuticals in New York and was generally more serious in nature than his younger, more carefree brother, Galen.
“It’s only to be expected that she would be nervous.”
“And if she doesn’t return?” asked Galen.
“She’ll return.”
“With Nagymama frog-marching her from behind, no doubt,” Valentin said, using the family’s Hungarian nickname for their grandmother.
Galen stifled a laugh. “Can’t say I’ve seen Nagy move quite so quickly in the past few years.”
“Protecting her investment, perhaps,” his brother replied archly. “You know how personally she takes her matches.”
Ilya rolled his eyes. Family ribbing was all very well and good—to be expected under the circumstances—but he was getting impatient. Where the hell was his bride?
He’d recognized Yasmin Carter the moment he’d turned around. So many thoughts had crossed his mind, the first being how stunningly beautiful she was in her wedding gown. Who knew that beneath the flight suits or jeans and a T-shirt he’d seen her wearing at the airfield, she could be so incredibly feminine, or so vulnerably fragile. That first glimpse of her today had appealed to an instinct his family constantly teased him about—his need to protect and provide for those he cared for. He hadn’t expected to feel that for his bride immediately, but he had—deeply and viscerally. His response had made him want to follow her when she’d turned and left after her awkward pronouncement. It was only his grandmother’s hurried whisper that she would deal with it that had prevented him from chasing Yasmin as she’d bolted from the room, even though every cell in his body had called on him to do so.
He looked at his watch again and fought not to start tapping his foot in impatience. The women had been gone twenty minutes now.
“The natives are getting restless,” Valentin observed as he cast his eyes over the assembled family and friends who’d been able to make it on short notice. “It’s a good thing you have the champagne flowing, Galen.”
Galen was the head of Horvath’s hotel and resort chain. He’d automatically switched into damage control mode the moment the wedding had gone off the rails. Ilya refused the offer of a waiter passing by with a tray of beverages. He needed a clear head today.
A movement in the doorway attracted his attention and he started toward his grandmother before anyone else noticed her.
“Is Yasmin all right?” he asked as his grandmother tugged him into the hallway.
“You recognized her?”
“Of course I did. While I’m left wondering what madness possessed you to match her to me, I’ve learned to trust you. But does she? She’s more skittish than I would have thought.”
“And so you ought to trust your grandmother. I only ever have your best interests at heart,” Alice said, patting him fondly on the cheek. “We have a small problem.”
A small problem? He would have thought his bride running away from the ceremony was a bit more than that.
“She has a stipulation if the wedding is to proceed,” his grandmother continued.
“And that is?”
“She’s very protective of Carter Air. She will go ahead with this, provided that you two never discuss business together and that your companies remain two separate entities. Therefore, no mergers, no buyouts, no sharing of information.”
“And that’s it?”
In the grand scheme of things, it was nothing. Of course she’d want to protect her company. And though their families had bad blood between them, he wasn’t interested in Carter Air as a takeover target and didn’t wish Yasmin ill beyond the usual competition in the industry. It wasn’t his style. He’d never understood why the cold war that had raged between his grandfather and Jim Carter, Yasmin’s grandfather, had been carried on for generations. Ilya didn’t believe in holding grudges. But even so he did wonder if his grandmother had some other ideas cooking beneath her halo of perfectly coifed silver hair.
“You agree, then?”
“Of course I agree, Nagy. Show me where to sign and I’ll sign.”
He saw relief in his grandmother’s blue eyes. “Thank you, my boy. I think it’s best if we keep this a verbal agreement for now, don’t you? We don’t want anything to muddy the waters should circumstances change, and thanks to your exemplary reputation, Yasmin is prepared to accept your word. Now, go back inside and wait.”
“We’re going ahead?”
“We most certainly are.”
Two (#u2ffcc786-1dea-53eb-9ca2-469ba06d0dd6)
Yasmin fought the overwhelming sense of déjà vu that assailed her as she approached the double doors to the ballroom. This was it, her wedding day. She was actually going through with it. And now, hopefully, her problems would begin to fade away. Her business problems, at least. As for her personal ones, well, that was another story.
She hovered at the end of the carpet, sensed a movement at her side. Ilya.
“Yasmin Carter, will you marry me?” he asked, offering her his arm so he could accompany her down the aisle.
She looked up into his denim-blue eyes and saw only reassurance there. Strange that in business they were such fierce rivals, yet here he was offering her comfort, companionship. Marriage. It shouldn’t have made sense—she barely knew the man—but in this moment he was the key that would hopefully unlock the door to her future.
“Yasmin?”
“Yes, I will marry you,” she said in a voice she’d hoped would be firm and decisive, but that came out husky and with a faint tremor.
“Shall we?” He nodded toward the aisle.
She tucked her arm in his and together they walked slowly down the aisle toward the celebrant.
The ceremony itself passed in a blur. She supposed she said the right things at the right time, because before she knew it, Ilya was putting a blindingly brilliant wedding band on her finger and the celebrant was pronouncing them husband and wife.
Ilya leaned toward her. Oh my, he’s going to kiss me! she thought, her heart kicking up to double speed in her chest. Unsure of what to do, she stood there, watching him come toward her with a twinkle in those intriguing eyes and an expression of humor mixed with determination on his face.
As he drew closer Yasmin felt his warmth and took in the scent of his cologne, the tang of pine with an underlying hint of sandalwood. And then his lips touched hers. Sensation rippled through her whole body and her breath caught in her throat. Time stopped. All that existed was the sensation of his kiss. And then, just like that, it was over. Too soon and yet not soon enough.
As he pulled away, there was a polite smattering of applause together with whoops and hollers from Ilya’s groomsmen. He might not be touching her right now, but every nerve in her body continued to party as if he still kissed her. It was madness and it was wonderful all at the same time. A roaring sound filled Yasmin’s ears.
Her new husband leaned forward and whispered, “Breathe, Yasmin.”
She took in one shuddering breath and then another before turning to accept congratulations from the few members of her staff—pretty much her only friends these days—who’d made it to the wedding. All the while she tried to come to terms with the avalanche of emotion that swept her along on its tumbling course. She was married. To Ilya Horvath. And the man was dangerous.
One kiss had scrambled her synapses. One. That’s all it had taken. Was she so weak? So starved for male attention? Yasmin looked across at Ilya, her husband, and the tingle of desire he’d ignited in her dialed up a few notches. She felt a flush warm her cheeks as he turned from the person congratulating him and his gaze met hers. Yasmin swiftly averted her eyes.
Alice Horvath stood before her. Were those tears in the older woman’s eyes? Surely not. Before Yasmin could say anything, Alice stepped closer.
“Congratulations, my dear, and welcome to the family. You’re one of us now.”
Alice pulled Yasmin into a firm hug, holding her close for several seconds before letting her go. Her words, however, settled into Yasmin’s mind like a rock sinking in quicksand. Before she could reply, Ilya was back at her side.
“The photographer would like us to himself for a while. Nagy, will you excuse us?”
Yasmin wasn’t sure how Ilya managed it, but within moments they were in the beautiful gardens overlooking the marina. She’d been excited when she’d learned that due to California’s requirement that the couple apply for their license together, their wedding would instead take place in Washington State, where they could show up to apply separately, which satisfied the Match Made in Marriage condition of bride and groom first meeting at the altar. She’d always loved the area, with the trees, mountains and Puget Sound. The resort was as picturesque and breathtaking as she’d hoped, and the sounds of rigging clanking on the boats berthed in the marina peppered the sea-scented air.
“Are you okay?” Ilya asked. “You looked as if you could benefit from a breath of fresh air.”
“I’m fine, thank you, but you’re right. It’s good to be away from the circus. I didn’t know it would be so...”
“Overwhelming?” he said in a voice that sounded like he understood exactly how she was feeling.
She looked up at him. She was not a short woman, but in her flat-heeled slippers, he was a good head taller. “Yeah, overwhelming.”
And she didn’t just mean the ceremony. It was him—everything about him was more than she’d expected. Of course, she’d seen pictures of him. Even been in the same room with him a time or two when they’d attended aviation industry functions. But she’d never in a million years imagined being his wife. She dropped her gaze to his hands. He held a bottle of French champagne and a single glass. When had he grabbed those? she wondered as she noted his long fingers and how gracefully he poured the wine.
“Here,” he said, handing the flute to her. “This might help.”
Her skin was peppered with goosebumps—as if he’d touched her already, as if he’d traced those smooth fingertips across the swell of her breasts and lower, ever lower. Inside her corset she felt her nipples harden. A tiny gasp of surprise escaped her as a spear of longing arrowed straight to her core. Was this what Alice had meant when she said they belonged together? Did the woman have some kind of insight into the chemistry that attracted one person to another? The chemistry that made Yasmin feel as though she had about as much chance of avoiding her attraction to Ilya as an iron filing did a magnet?
She ripped her gaze from his hands and accepted the glass, lifting it straight to her lips and downing at least half the champagne in one gulp. The bubbles fizzed and danced along her tongue and down her throat, much as her blood danced more and more heatedly through her veins the longer she was around him.
This wasn’t what she’d expected. This instant, engulfing need for a man she barely even knew, yet was now wedded to.
“Thirsty?” Ilya asked, cocking one brow.
A flush of embarrassment stained her cheeks, making her feel even more flustered.
“Something like that,” she muttered and took another, more delicate, sip.
Before she could ask him why he didn’t have a glass himself, the photographer and his assistant joined them. Yasmin took in as deep a breath as her corset would allow, grateful for the distraction.
The next hour passed in a blur of directions, unnatural poses and equally unnatural smiles. By the time the photographer called for one last pose, she’d drank far more of the bottle of champagne than anyone who’d skipped both breakfast and lunch out of nerves had a right to.
“Okay, people. How about a bit of passion?”
“He does know we only just met today, doesn’t he?” Yasmin said to Ilya through gritted teeth. “We don’t even know each other.”
Ilya’s arm slipped around her waist and he stepped in closer. “I think we can produce a reasonable facsimile of the feeling, don’t you?”
He lowered his face to hers, his lips hovering a hairsbreadth away from her mouth. She could see the silver striations that radiated from his pupils and the rim of dark blue around his irises. He really had the most beautiful eyes she’d ever seen. His hand was strong against her back. Supporting. Warm. The warmth seeped slowly into her skin. A shiver ran up her back in total contrast. He might essentially be a stranger to her, but he affected her on a level that intrigued and frightened her at the same time.
His breath was a mere whisper against her lips, his gaze intense as he looked into her eyes. Involuntarily she raised her hand to cup his cheek, her palms tingling as she felt the bristles of his neatly trimmed beard against her fingertips. Her lips parted on a sigh and her senses primed themselves for that moment when their lips would touch.
“Perfect!” the photographer exclaimed joyfully, breaking the spell. “Now let’s go back inside for some group shots and the cutting of the cake.”
Yasmin blinked and let her hand drop to her side. Her other hand still clutched her bouquet in a death grip. What had nearly happened there? She wasn’t sure if she was grateful for the photographer’s interference or maddened by it. She shivered again. Even though it was early fall, and the day had dawned sunny and mild, clouds were gathering in the sky and the temperature had dropped markedly.
“Here, you’re cold. Let me put this on you.”
Before she could protest that they’d be inside soon, Ilya had stripped off his jacket and was draping it over her shoulders. The heat of his body transferred from the silk lining to her skin, leaving her feeling overly sensitive. A few drops of rain fell on his white shirt, rendering it transparent where they hit. She caught a glimpse of a dark nipple behind the fine cotton, felt a clench of need so intense it made her stumble as she started to move forward.
Ever the gentleman, Ilya steadied her. The photographer’s assistant rushed toward them with a massive white umbrella that Ilya accepted and held over them both. He guided her toward the doors leading to the main reception room. As soon as they were inside, she pulled off his jacket and thrust it toward him.
“Thank you. I don’t need this now.”
“It’s okay to accept a little help from time to time.”
“Said the man who has never had to ask for help from anyone, ever.”
She smiled to soften her words but her meaning hung in the air between them. He had been born into a life of privilege. Certainly the privilege had been created by the hard work of previous generations and, she knew well, of the current generation, too. But had he ever truly wanted for anything?
“Besides,” she continued, “you’ll need to look your formal best for the reception.”
He said nothing but shrugged the jacket back on. The resort’s wedding planner hovered at the inner doors to the reception room.
“Are the two of you all ready?” she asked with an encouraging smile.
“As ready as we’ll ever be, right?” Ilya replied with a crooked smile in Yasmin’s direction.
She nodded, desperately trying to ignore the ridiculous sensations that poured through her. Anyone would think she was a sex-starved crazy woman if they knew how easily he sent her senses into overdrive. And aren’t you? a little voice teased from the back of her mind. Okay, sure, she hadn’t had a date in, what? Two years? And as for sex, well, it had been even longer. That didn’t mean she had to melt like an ice cube on hot tarmac in the middle of July with just one look from him. Besides, he didn’t appear to be similarly afflicted, she realized with a burst of chagrin. From now on she’d keep her ridiculous reactions very firmly under control. It couldn’t be that difficult, could it?
* * *
Ilya observed his new wife with amusement. She was working hard to hold herself completely aloof, and yet the endearingly pretty flush of pink on her cheeks and her chest suggested she was just as attracted to him as he was to her. It would prove to be an interesting marriage, he decided. But would it be one that endured? His grandmother seemed to think so. He had yet to hear her reasons as to why, but Ilya knew that he and Yasmin at least had flying in common. The fact that they flew in direct competition with each other was another matter entirely.
Her gray eyes darted from one group of people to the next as they circulated through the room after the announcement of their arrival. He’d felt her entire body go rigid as they’d been introduced as Mr. and Mrs. Horvath.
“I’m not taking your name,” she whispered fiercely as they finally settled at the head table.
“I didn’t expect you to,” he said to defuse her irritation. But mischief prompted him to add, “Would you prefer I took yours?”
Surprise chased the exasperation from her face. “Seriously? You’d do that?”
“If it was important to you,” he answered sincerely. “I want this marriage to work, Yasmin. I don’t yet know your reasons for entering into it, or why we’ve specifically been matched together, but I’d like to think the experts got it right and that we can make an honest go of this. I want a future that includes a family with the kind of companion I can’t wait to see, whether it’s when I wake or just before we fall asleep at night.”
He hesitated. Was that too much, too soon? Judging by the startled expression on her face, perhaps it was. He’d surprised himself with that declaration, too. Still, he was the kind of guy who said what he wanted. He didn’t hold with beating around the bush, and it was true. He wanted a family of his own. A wife who would be his partner in all things.
The reception continued with speeches interspersed between courses of the meal. He noticed she barely touched her food. And only one person stood up to speak for Yasmin. A woman Ilya recognized from the airfield—Yasmin’s office manager, he recalled—who sat in her colorful sari at a table with a handful of others from Carter Air. His wife had no family here, he realized in surprise. He knew the grandfather who’d raised her had died a few years ago, but why hadn’t her parents come today? Was their absence a sign of something deeper missing in her life? Did her reason for marrying stem from a need to create a family of her own?
He knew part of his reason in approaching his grandmother for a bride came from his wish to continue the family tradition of handing control of the corporation over to an heir or heirs. But finding the right woman had eluded him. He’d been engaged once, in college, but that had ended disastrously.
Ever since his father’s death when he was sixteen, and his mother’s subsequent withdrawal from parental duties as she went on a new quest to find love, he’d missed that feeling of being a piece of a small, tight-knit family unit. Yes, he’d had his grandmother, his aunts and uncles and cousins, but it wasn’t the same as what he’d lost and what he craved to be a part of again.
He looked at Yasmin and felt a pull of sympathy. Her family life hadn’t been much better. Ilya had met her irascible grandfather once and was surprised that Jim Carter and Eduard Horvath had been such great friends many years ago. They couldn’t have been more different, from what Ilya could tell. His late grandfather had been a charismatic and driven man who always had an eye to the future and to expansion. He had lived, laughed and loved hard. On the flip side, Jim Carter had been quieter, withdrawn even, and his reluctance to embrace change had set Carter Air back in many ways. While his work ethic had never been in question, he’d lacked the vision and the willingness to expand and adapt to new horizons the way Eduard had. Their very differences had been what had made them such a great team until they’d fallen out over his grandmother and become enemies.
Yasmin, it seemed, had her own way of doing things with a liberal dose of her late grandfather’s caution sprinkled in. Ilya knew one thing for certain—she was a damn fine pilot. He’d seen her in her vintage Ryan PT-22 Recruit at airshows and she’d taken his breath away. The Ryan had a reputation as an unforgiving aircraft but she handled hers as if it was a simply an extension of herself. Which made her an intriguing package, indeed, and begged the question: How many more layers would he uncover as he got to know his unconventional bride?
Three (#u2ffcc786-1dea-53eb-9ca2-469ba06d0dd6)
Ilya leaned over and murmured in Yasmin’s ear, “Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves.”
Yasmin nodded, trying to ignore the frisson of awareness that tracked down the side of her neck as he spoke.
“Everyone except you,” he added dryly.
“I’m fine,” Yasmin insisted even as she clenched a fist in her lap.
She might be fine, but she hated being the center of attention like this. As if she was on display for approval by every member of his family. His cousins seemed nice enough, but she sensed a lot of confusion and perhaps even some veiled hostility from some of their parents’ generation. And then there were the questions—like, where were her parents? Didn’t they approve of her marriage?
Truth be told, she hadn’t even been able to get hold of them to let them know about the wedding. They were somewhere in the wilds of South America the last she’d heard—chasing whatever dream they’d come up with this time. A traditional life filled with predictable choices was definitely not for them. Who knew? Maybe they would have approved of her adventurous approach to marriage, although she doubted it. Her father had tried to fit in to the mold her grandfather had cast for him but the two men had never been close, and in the end her father had left Carter Air, following his dreams with the woman he fell in love with and only returning long enough to leave his daughter in his father’s care so she’d have stability and regular schooling.
She was grateful to her parents that they’d done that for her, even if her granddad had not always been the easiest man to live with. The transient life was definitely not her thing. She was more like the old man than she liked to admit—needing order, consistency, control. All of which had made today very hard to handle.
Ilya interrupted her thoughts. “Let’s get out of here.”
She turned to face her husband. “Can we do that?”
“I don’t see why not. It’s our wedding day. We can do whatever the hell we want, can’t we?”
He held out a hand and she took it. His fingers closed around hers and he gently tugged her to her feet. Was this when their marriage would truly begin? In the honeymoon suite upstairs overlooking the marina and Puget Sound? Her stomach tightened into a knot of anxiety. As powerful as her attraction to him was, she knew she wasn’t ready for this. Wasn’t ready for him.
They managed to slip through one of the French doors to the patio outside. The earlier rain had passed, leaving the evening air damp and cold, heavy with the scent of woodsmoke. Ilya hastened to drape his jacket around Yasmin’s shoulders again. She was grateful for the warmth as she followed him across the patio to another door that led to the hotel’s main foyer.
“You know your way around,” she observed. “It was all I could do today to negotiate my way from my room to the wedding.”
He flashed her a smile. “You probably had other things on your mind.”
Yasmin tried to ignore the way his smile made the corners of his eyes crinkle. It made him look even more impossibly handsome and made her wonder anew just how they were going to approach this first night together. She doubted she would have been as nervous had her husband been anyone other than the man standing before her now.
She squared her shoulders and took a deep breath.
“Let’s go do this, then,” she said with all the enthusiasm of an unrestrained wing walker heading into a double barrel roll.
Ilya laughed. “You don’t need to sound quite so keen,” he commented, as they headed to the elevators.
“I’m sorry,” she said, blushing furiously. “I’ve never done this before. I’m not quite sure what the protocol is.”
“It’s okay,” he assured her, his voice deep and even. “It’s been a difficult day. Certainly not what I expected.”
“What did you expect?” she asked as they stepped into the elevator.
“Not you, that’s for sure. Not that I’m complaining,” he added hastily.
“Well, I wasn’t expecting you, either, if that’s any consolation.”
“Yeah, I think that was pretty obvious by your reaction,” he teased.
Yasmin felt her lips tweak into a smile. It was the first genuine moment of humor she’d appreciated all day.
“You have a beautiful smile,” Ilya commented as the doors swished open and they stepped out on her floor.
Their floor, she reminded herself. And just like that, the butterflies were back in her stomach and commencing an aerobatic maneuver. She suddenly wished there had been some kind of handbook issued explaining what happened next. Her smile died as the little voice in the back of her head told her she was an idiot. It was their wedding night. What did she think would happen next?
They reached the door to the honeymoon suite and Ilya produced a keycard from his pocket.
“My cases were brought up here during the reception,” he said as they walked inside the beautifully appointed room. “I told them not to unpack.”
“Not to unpack?” Yasmin repeated. “Aren’t we supposed to be honeymooning here?”
“Did you particularly want to? I’m happy to stay if that’s what you prefer but we have other options. We could disappear to Hawaii or even hide out at my home overlooking Ojai. The choice is yours.”
Yasmin considered his words carefully. As much as she loved Washington, she felt like a fish out of water here with Ilya. Perhaps if she was back in California, in more familiar surroundings, this unusual marriage of theirs might begin to feel more usual.
She looked around the sumptuous suite where she’d felt like an outsider from the moment she’d arrived. She wasn’t used to this world of wealth and glamour.
“No,” she answered simply. “I don’t want to stay here.”
“So which is it to be? Hawaii or back to my place?”
He made it sound so simple. But then again, in his world, maybe it was.
“Let me change and pack.”
“Do you need help?”
She was on the verge of refusing when she remembered the dress’s multitude of hooks and eyes that Riya had helped her with.
“Thank you,” she answered, turning her back to him. “Perhaps if you could undo the hooks for me?”
She heard his indrawn breath before he answered. “Sure. They look tricky. Let’s see what I can do.”
Yasmin braced herself for his touch. And there it was. He tucked his fingers into the top of her bodice and deftly worked the hooks and eyes apart. His hands were warm—didn’t the man ever feel cold? She held the front of her dress against her.
“You’re wearing a corset,” he said as the back of her dress parted to reveal her undergarments. “Can you manage that on your own?”
Yasmin closed her eyes a moment. Having him undress her was proving to be sheer torture. “Perhaps if you can just undo the first few inches? I can manage the rest.”
Ilya didn’t answer. Instead, she felt his hands at her back again as he slowly worked his way through the fastenings. Yasmin dragged in a deep breath as the corset loosened and took a step forward.
“Thank you. I’ll take it from here.”
There was a tightness to her voice she couldn’t hide and her heart hammered in her chest like a trapped bird. Curiosity pricked at the back of her mind; she wondered what it would be like if she turned around to face him. If she let her hands drop from where they held her bodice and just waited to see what would happen next. Fire raced along her veins again, licking tiny flames of need into aching life.
“Take your time,” Ilya said. “I’ll be waiting for you right here.”
She felt him step away from her, heard the sound of leather creaking as he settled into one of the easy chairs. Yasmin forced herself to walk steadily to the bedroom. Once inside she closed the door behind her and released the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. She shook with reaction, fine tremors rippling through her body. If he hadn’t withdrawn from her, she would have done it—she would have turned around.
She’d never been that kind of girl. Never one who followed her impulses. All her life she’d been focused and hardworking. She knew the consequences of not completing things to her best ability—knew, also, the rewards that came with achievement. So what had come over her that she was prepared to put all that aside and virtually throw herself at the stranger who waited on the other side of the door? The stranger who was her husband, she reminded herself. Did that make it right? She doubted it.
Yasmin let the gown fall to the carpet in a whoosh of expensive fabric, the hand-sewn crystals on her bodice winking at her reproachfully as she stepped out of the gown and toward the bed. Her hands worked feverishly on the final hooks securing her corset as she kicked off her slippers. When she was finally free of the garment, she let it drop to the floor, too. She rushed into the bathroom and turned on the shower, then shimmied out of her stockings and lace underpants.
Warm water coursed over her, flattening her short-cropped hair to her skull and washing her body free of the tension that gripped her. She wasn’t that blushing bride who’d so intently embarked on this morning’s adventure. That person had been a dreamer, not the doer Yasmin had always prided herself on being. And the man waiting for her outside the bedroom? He was beautiful and appealing and all of the things that made her body react with unseemly eagerness. But he was also the enemy, and she’d do well to remember that.
* * *
Ilya began the final approach, relieved to see the helipad next to his house in the hills overlooking the Ojai Valley coming up ahead in the darkness. Yasmin sat next to him in the cockpit—silent, watching, stifling a yawn every now and then. He knew how she felt. The day had been exhausting, but they were nearly home.
They’d barely spoken since leaving the hotel. She’d taken longer than he expected to pack, and the woman who’d eventually emerged from the bedroom, dressed in long, dark pants, a cream linen blouse and battered leather flying jacket and wearing no makeup, had been a far cry from the bride he’d begun to undress.
His hand clenched on the controls, his fingers tingling as he remembered what it had felt like to undress her—how soft her skin was, how enticing her scent as they’d stood so close. It had taken every ounce of his considerable control not to lower his mouth to the curve of her neck where it flared into the feminine line of her shoulder. But he hadn’t wanted to frighten her. If this marriage of theirs was going to work, he’d take it as slowly as she needed. He had a feeling it would be more than worth it.
He wondered what had brought her to Match Made in Marriage and made a mental note to check with his grandmother. Or maybe he should ask his wife. From now on, in all things she should be his first port of call, shouldn’t she? In all things but their businesses.
Following the directions of the staff member marshalling him from the ground, he landed the chopper on the helipad.
“Welcome home, Mr. and Mrs. Horvath,” Pete Wood, head of his air crew, said as he came forward to open the chopper door on Yasmin’s side. “Watch your head, Mrs. Horvath.”
“Call me Yasmin, please,” Ilya heard his wife say tightly as she unlatched her harness, took off her headset and stepped down from the chopper.
He fought back a small smile. It gave him a surprising sense of pride to hear her called Mrs. Horvath. His wife. It sent a pulse of something powerful through him. As though he was a part of something new and exciting and uncharted. And in many ways, he was. He’d never been married before—hadn’t even lived with a woman—which made the rest of his life with Yasmin pan out ahead of him as very much the great unknown.
How hard could it be? he reassured himself as he completed his shutdown procedures and then removed their suitcases from the rear of the chopper.
“Thanks for coming to marshal us in, Pete.”
“No problem, sir. Congratulations on your marriage, both of you,” Pete said with a beaming smile in Yasmin’s direction.
She ducked her head shyly and a slight smile curved her lips. Ilya had noted that reticence around his family, too, and wondered if it had been just them. It looked as though she was like that with everyone—everyone connected with him, at least.
“Can I take your bags for you, Mr. Horvath?”
“No, it’s okay, Pete. You head on home now.”
Pete tipped his cap to Ilya. “Call me if you need me.”
Ilya gave him a smile. “I’m officially on honeymoon. Hopefully I won’t need to call you again until I’m back at work in two weeks’ time.”
“Sure thing, boss. Happy honeymooning.”
Ilya walked over to Yasmin, who stood on the outer perimeter of the helipad. Behind him he heard Pete start the helicopter back up.
“If you don’t want to be blown about, we’d better start walking toward the house. We’ll take that path there,” he suggested, nodding toward a path off to one side lined with garden lights.
“Are we stranded here?” Yasmin said, her eyes not straying from the helicopter.
“Does that bother you?”
“Should it?”
Ilya laughed. “No, it shouldn’t, and no, we’re not stranded.” He gestured to the multicar garage off to the side of the house they were now approaching through the garden. “You can take your pick of vehicles in there should you feel the need to flee.”
“Flee?” She arched a finely shaped brow as she looked at him. “What makes you think I’d want to?”
“Oh, perhaps the way you’re twisting the strap of your bag.”
She looked down at her hands. “I’m just nervous. Like I said before, I’ve never done this.”
“Nor have I,” Ilya assured her swiftly. “So let’s agree to remain open with each other about how we’re feeling, okay? Let me know, so I can relieve your nerves. Well, here we are.”
Ilya approached the portico of his home. He’d fallen in love with the Mediterranean-style property nestled on forty acres of land the moment he’d seen it. It was a half-hour drive from the airport and Horvath Aviation—less time, of course, if he took a chopper—and now he’d get to share it with Yasmin. He set the suitcases down and pressed a finger on the reader at the front door before pushing the double doors open to reveal the entrance.
“Welcome to our home, Yasmin.”
She started to move forward but he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. “Allow me,” he said and stepped closer to swing her up into his arms.
She stifled a squeak of surprise and hooked her arms around his neck as he crossed the threshold. She felt ridiculously light in his arms, but the press of her body against his had all the impact of a jumbo jet blast when it came to his senses. One hand curved around her ribcage, just beneath her breasts. Oh, yes, for all her slenderness she had curves, all right. What would she do if he followed tradition even further and kissed her again?
The brief peck on her lips after their ceremony had been both a tease and a torment for him. The second he’d felt her lips beneath his he knew he wanted to explore her further, but with a room full of family and friends looking on, he’d been forced to acknowledge there was a limit to what was acceptable in public. Even now that they were alone, her obvious apprehension about the day meant he would have to take things slowly, he reminded himself, as he set her back down on her feet again.
But then she shifted and leaned closer to him. His arms closed around her, pulling her against him, and he lowered his mouth to hers.
He felt a shock ricochet through him as her lips parted beneath his. She might be slight, but oh boy, did she pack a punch when it came to kissing. For a moment all Ilya could think of was the sweet taste of her, the softness of her lips, the texture of her tongue as it swept against his. He deepened the kiss, taking his time to relish the moment, to relish her. If this was a sign of things to come, they had a great deal to look forward to. She made his head swim with need, or maybe it was the blood heading to other parts of his body that made him so lightheaded.
He drew her lower lip between his teeth, sucking on it gently before tracing its fullness with his tongue. He wanted to do that all over her body. From her gorgeous, beautiful mouth to her breasts and lower. Just thinking about following his instincts left him aching with need—to pick her up again, take her upstairs to his bedroom and show her exactly how good their marriage could be.
But he felt her hesitation, that infinitesimal withdrawal. With the greatest reluctance he pressed one final kiss against her lips then let her go, steadying her on her feet as he did so. Yasmin’s eyes were bright and her cheeks flushed.
Ilya walked to the entrance and picked up their suitcases, bringing them inside and closing the large wooden front doors behind him.
“Do you want the full tour now?” he asked. “Or would you rather wait until the morning?”
He watched her as she looked around the entrance and past it to the formal dining area and living room before turning back to face him again.
“I didn’t expect your place to be so big,” she said. “All this for just one person?”
“Well, when I bought it a couple of years ago I kind of had a vision of filling it with a family.” He still had that vision and it grew sharper and clearer with every moment he spent in her company, even if it might be too soon to be thinking along those lines just yet. “How about you? Have you always wanted kids?”
“Yes,” she answered emphatically. “Like you, I grew up an only child, but I didn’t have cousins to fulfill a pseudo-sibling role as I understand yours did. I always swore that if I ever had children I would have more than one. I guess that’s one of the reasons we were paired.”
He breathed an inward sigh of relief. Some of his relationships had failed in the past because the women weren’t at all interested in starting a family. It was vitally important to him that Yasmin be on the same page.
“So, the house—do you want to see more now? Maybe pick out a nursery?” he teased.
“It’s probably a little too early for that,” Yasmin answered with a chuckle. She stifled another yawn. “I’m sorry. Perhaps we can wait on the tour until morning.”
“Sounds good. I’ll show you your room. Follow me.”
He led her up the stairs and a short way along a landing. He stopped outside the door to a guest bedroom and opened it. He gestured for her to precede him in and set her suitcase down on the blanket box at the foot of the large sleigh bed.
“You should be comfortable here. There’s an en suite bathroom and my housekeeper will have stocked everything you need in terms of toiletries.”
“We’re...um...we’re not sharing a room?”
“Not yet. Unless you’d like to?”
“I...” Yasmin’s voice trailed off again.
“It’s okay. I think you’d probably prefer that we get to know each other a little better before we take that step.”
The words tripped glibly off his tongue, but inside his body protested strongly. He’d like nothing better than to whisk her down the hall to the master suite, lay her gently on his massive bed and show her exactly how well he wanted to get to know her. But the relief that spread across her face was about as effective as a cold shower.
“Thank you, I appreciate it.”
“That doesn’t mean I can’t wish you a good-night, though. Sweet dreams.”
Before she could say another word, he bent to kiss her gently, sweetly on her lips. He felt her lean toward him, but this time, rather than lose himself in the caress, he forced himself to keep it brief—to pull away and to leave them both wanting more. If he had to go to bed in a state of torment, then so could she. It was only fair.
He hesitated in her doorway on his way out. “My room is just down the hall if you change your mind.”
And with that parting comment he left her alone.
Four (#u2ffcc786-1dea-53eb-9ca2-469ba06d0dd6)
It took Yasmin longer to get to sleep than she’d expected, considering how exhausted she’d been when Ilya had left her. But weariness aside, his kisses had fired up her imagination and as she lay between the cool crisp sheets of her lonely bed she couldn’t help wondering what her wedding night could have been like if she’d just been brave enough to reach for him after that sweet goodnight and beg him to show her more.
She had no doubt he would be a consummate lover. From what she could tell, the man was incredibly accomplished in all that he did. And now she was married to him. She had the rest of her life to discover just how skilled he was. If they went the distance.
The next morning she rose and went downstairs, following the sound of a blender to a large kitchen. Ilya stood at the granite kitchen counter, oblivious to her entry. She took a moment to watch him—to appreciate the way his Henley hugged the muscles of his shoulders and skimmed his pecs. A decrepit pair of jeans hugged his hips and she felt that all too familiar tingle through her body as she noticed how the denim had faded in certain areas. The blender stopped and Ilya looked up, a smile creasing his face as he saw her hovering in the doorway.
“Good morning,” he said. “I hope you slept well.”
“Thank you. I did, eventually.”
Yasmin perched on one of the bar stools that lined the counter and watched as he poured two smoothies into tall glasses. Ilya pushed one toward her.
“I figured if we were so perfectly matched, you’d probably like one of these for breakfast,” he said with a crooked grin. “But if you’d prefer bacon and eggs, I can do that, too.”
“No, this is fine. I don’t usually have breakfast anyway.”
“Well, you’ll need the energy for what I’ve got planned this morning.”
“Oh?” She looked up at him, raising one brow.
“I love the way you do that,” he said, reaching out and stroking her brow with a fingertip.
The sensation of his skin against hers made her hand tremble and she set her glass down on the counter with a sharp click. Ilya laughed and turned his attention to his smoothie, downing most of it in one gulp.
“And what is it you have planned for the morning?” Yasmin asked, picking up her glass again and taking a sip. “Oh, that’s good,” she exclaimed in surprise. “What did you put in it?”
“First question first. We’re going for a hike. Have you got hiking boots or something suitable in your suitcase? If not, we can do something else. As to the smoothie, that’s a closely guarded secret,” he said with a sly wink. “One day I might let you in on it.”
She chuckled. “Well, in the meantime I shall just appreciate your culinary expertise. And, as to shoes, I have something suitable for a hike. What time do you want to head out?”
“Probably in half an hour or so. Think you can be ready by then?”
“I was born ready,” she answered, finishing off her smoothie and hopping down from her seat.
“Good to know,” Ilya responded.
His voice was deep and reverberated through her in a way that sent her senses scrambling. She had the distinct feeling they were speaking along completely different lines. Yasmin took her glass over to the sink and rinsed it out. It was easier to fake being busy with something than it was to acknowledge exactly what kind of an effect her new husband had on her.
“This is a nice kitchen,” she said, striving for more neutral conversational territory. “Did you have it installed or did it come like this when you bought the house?”
“I bought the house pretty much as you see it,” he said. “With the exception of the furnishings and art. Why don’t I show you the rest before we head out?”
She nodded and followed him as he led the way out of the kitchen and through to a casual sitting area. A massive television dominated most of one wall.
“Wow,” she exclaimed. “All you need is a cooler in the side of your chair and you’ll be living every man’s dream, won’t you?”
“Hey, when I watch the air races I want to feel like I’m in them, not just a spectator.”
“I understand. Although nothing quite beats the real thing.”
“Speaking of which, are you going to take me up in your Ryan anytime soon?”
“I heard you don’t like being a passenger—that you prefer to hold on to the controls yourself.”
She said the words lightly, but she understood them on her own level. She’d spent years side by side with her grandfather restoring the Ryan to flying condition and had worked really hard to earn her rating to fly it. No one took that plane up but her.
“Where did you hear that?” Ilya asked, his brows drawing into a straight line.
“Oh, it’s pretty common knowledge around the airport. You know how people talk.”
“What else do they say about me?” Ilya asked, moving closer to her.
She could feel the heat that emanated from his body. It was like a magnet, drawing her closer. She nearly always felt cold, but with him around, she doubted she’d ever need an extra layer again.
“Oh, that you’re a hard worker and a reasonable boss.”
“That’s it?”
“Hey, you wouldn’t tell me what was in the smoothie, so I’m not sharing all my secrets. A girl’s got to hold something back, right?”
He laughed again and Yasmin felt her lips kick up in an answering smile.
“So I’m an overbearing pilot, a hard worker and a reasonable boss.”
Her grin widened at the chagrin with which he said the word reasonable. “I never said overbearing. But if the shoe fits...?”
He reached out to catch her shoulders with his hands. Heat seared through her top and penetrated her skin. Her heart rate kicked up a notch. Was he going to kiss her again? Part of her hoped he would, while the other... The other part wasn’t ready to face the tumult of sensation he set off in her. It was a weakness she needed to learn to shore up, and swiftly, if they were to remain on an even playing field when it came to this marriage. She had too much to lose otherwise.
To a lot of people, marrying sight unseen just to save her business was an extreme measure. Heck, even to her it was extreme. But to win the Hardacre contract, she had to be married. It was as simple as that. It was frustrating that, in this day and age, her business was held hostage by Wallace Hardacre’s wandering eye and his wife’s jealousy. But if getting married meant she’d win the five-year exclusive contract ensuring her company had the income stream to not only keep it afloat but eventually allow it to expand and create more jobs, she was prepared to do it.
All she’d had to do then was find a husband. Fast. She’d just never expected that husband to be Ilya Horvath.
Ilya snapped his fingers, dragging her out of her reverie.
“Earth to Yasmin. I feel like I lost you there for a moment.”
She forced a smile. “Sorry, just thinking about my grandfather,” she fibbed.
“I never met him but I heard he was a wizard mechanic. Not an aircraft engine he couldn’t fix, right?”
She nodded. “Yeah. He was always better at mechanics than people.”
“Was it hard growing up with him?”
“Yes and no. Obviously I missed my mom and dad. They’d cruise by when they were in the area, still do occasionally. But Granddad gave me stability, which I didn’t have with them. And he taught me the value of silence.”
“Is that a hint?”
“Oh, heavens, no. Not at all. It’s just some people seem to need to fill a silence with noise, rather than simply letting the silence fill them for a change.”
Ilya nodded. “I think I know a few people like that. Come on, let me show you the rest of the place, then we can head out in the hills.”
* * *
She was fit and strong, Ilya thought appreciatively as they reached the crest of the hill that would afford them the best view across the valley. And she didn’t complain, either.
“That was quite a climb,” Yasmin said, as she stopped and put her hands on her hips.
Her breathing was only slightly labored and she’d barely broken a sweat even though the temperatures had begun to climb into the seventies very soon after they’d started hiking.
“It’s worth it for the view,” Ilya commented as he came to stand beside her.
And he wasn’t just talking about the stunning Ojai Valley vistas, either. The woman standing next to him was a picture of perfection. She glowed with natural good health and vitality, a far cry from the kinds of women who moved in his circles. At the back of his mind he couldn’t help but feel there was something familiar about her, too. But of course there had to be, he told himself as he turned his gaze from her to the valley that spread before them. They worked at the same airport. They’d both been fed stories of how their families had been friends then feuding rivals. They knew of each other, even if they didn’t actually know each other. Even so, the little niggle persisted that he knew her from somewhere else.
“You were so lucky last year’s fires missed your home,” Yasmin said, looking around at the flora fighting to regenerate on the hills around them.
“I was luckier than a lot of people.”
“Your property looks like an oasis from up here,” she commented.
“It certainly feels like it after a hard day in the office.”
He heard her breath hitch. “We agreed not to talk about work, remember?”
“Right. My mistake.”
He clenched his jaw. It had only felt natural to mention work. After all, it had taken up more than half of every day of his adult life. It was going to be harder than he thought to compartmentalize things, to exclude her from what was essentially the core of his world. But then again, he reminded himself, in time she would become the core of his world—wouldn’t she?
A tiny animal sound came from somewhere behind them.
“Did you hear that?” Yasmin asked, looking around.
“Yeah. There it is again.”
Ilya walked cautiously toward the source of the noise, wary in case the animal was unfriendly. Yasmin showed no such care. She pushed past him into the undergrowth.
“Oh look, it’s a puppy. The poor baby.”
She scooped the mess of dirt and multicolored fur up into her arms and cradled it to her. The puppy whimpered.
“Is he hurt?” Ilya asked, stepping forward.
It maddened him that people could be so cruel as to abandon their animals, and this one looked very definitely abandoned. The puppy bore a narrow blue collar, which hinted that at some stage it had had an owner who cared enough to buy it one. There was a road that passed not too far from this point. It had probably been dumped along there. Possibly even thrown from a passing car if the grazes on his paw pads were anything to go by.
“Not too badly, I think. But he’ll be thirsty, poor baby. I wonder how long he’s been up here.”
Ilya poured some of the water from his bottle into the palm of his hand and offered it to the puppy. The animal weakly lapped it up. The little guy was probably dehydrated. Ilya kept adding a little trickle of water until the puppy stopped drinking.
“What are we going to do with him?” Yasmin asked, stroking the puppy’s grubby head.
“I guess we’ll take him to the vet to be checked out and maybe see if he was stolen before he was dumped. There might be someone missing him. If he was stolen we’ll know more.”
“And if he wasn’t?”
She looked at him with such an expression of yearning in her eyes that it made him wish he could grant her every wish.
“Then we’ll keep him.”
“I’ve never had a dog,” she admitted, pressing a kiss to the top of the puppy’s head and earning a sloppy kiss in return. “But I’ve always wanted one.”
“First, let’s get him to the vet.”
Ilya put out his hands to take the puppy from her. The animal really was a sad little bag of bones and hair. Ilya only hoped that it didn’t have any underlying problems. He could see that Yasmin had already lost her heart to the little guy. He didn’t want to see it broken if the puppy had to be euthanized. It didn’t matter how much money it took, he decided. They’d be bringing this little one back home.
Five (#u2ffcc786-1dea-53eb-9ca2-469ba06d0dd6)
When Yasmin and Ilya returned from the vet, they were both covered in grime from the puppy. They’d left him for a thorough checkup and to be rehydrated. The animal wasn’t microchipped and didn’t appear on any lost pet registers so it didn’t look like he could be returned to his owners. Not that they deserved him if they had been the people who dumped him in the first place, Yasmin thought with a surge of anger.
She’d been pleasantly surprised by Ilya’s reaction, though. She’d seen a side of him she hadn’t known existed before today. Everything she’d ever heard about him in the past had pointed to his being an overentitled, calculating person. Not someone who could show so much compassion to an abandoned animal. And certainly not someone she would ever have seen herself married to, let alone potentially happily married to. She didn’t want to admit she could be wrong about him—after all, once she made up her mind, she didn’t usually waver. But she needed to form her own opinions of the man she’d married, and so far he was shaping up to be very interesting, indeed.
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