Marriage by Deception by Sara Craven Read Free Book Online

walk out. Well, tough.
    He shrugged. ‘I can see problems.’
    ‘There wouldn’t be a story without them.’ She leaned back in her chair, her gaze sweeping him. ‘Just be certain none of them are of your making. It goes without saying that all these meetings take place in public.’
    ‘Cilla,’ Sam drawled, ‘I wouldn’t have it any other way. When do I start?’
    He’d thought he was ahead on points—until he’d seen the clothes she’d chosen for him to wear—and the glasses—and also what the barber she’d summoned was doing to his hair.
    ‘Sam isn’t short for Samson, I hope,’ she’d said gloatingly, as he was sheared. ‘I wouldn’t want you tolose your strength, darling. All that wonderful male potency I’ve heard so much about.’
    He’d smiled at her in the mirror, his face aching with the effort. ‘Keep listening, Cilla. I’ll live to fight another day.’
    Now, halfway through the assignment, he wasn’t sure the battle was worth it. He was ashamed of what he was doing. He’d pick another civil war any day above those anxious, hopeful eyes looking at him across restaurant tables.
    Maybe he should have cut his losses and gone, he brooded. Especially as instinct told him that ‘Lonely in London’ might be a picnic compared with other things Cilla Godwin could be cooking up for him.
    He finished his coffee and asked for the bill. At least his expenses would give her a bad few minutes, but he needed to justify them by writing a really good piece on Janie Craig. And he wasn’t sure that he could.
    Back at his flat, he worked on his laptop for an hour, making notes about his meeting with her, but, as he’d feared, she remained totally elusive. He knew little more than she’d mentioned in her original letter—except that she blushed easily and wore a scent called Organza. And that her lips had trembled when he kissed them.
    Not details he would put in his report, he decided sardonically.
    Nor could he mention what had surprised him most about the evening—the moment when he’d asked her to stay—and found he meant it.
    Sam snorted in self-derision, and switched off the computer.
    The traumas of the past few weeks must have softened my brain, he thought, and went to bed.
     
    Gardening, Ros thought crossly as she attacked the roots of a particularly hostile dandelion, was not having its usual therapeutic effect.
    This should have been a really good day for her. After all, she would have the house to herself for the whole weekend, and the problem with Janie had been dealt with and could be put safely behind her.
    She wasn’t too optimistic about the future of this rushed engagement to Martin, but if it all ended in tears Molly and her father would be back by then, and could cope.
    All in all, she should have been as happy as a lark. Instead, she felt thoroughly on edge—as if a storm was brewing somewhere.
    The fact that she’d slept badly the previous night hadn’t helped, of course. She’d been assailed by vague, tormenting dreams, none of which she’d been able to remember when sleep had finally deserted her altogether just after dawn.
    Lying, staring into space held no appeal, so she’d done all the right, practical things. Made herself tea, showered and dressed in leggings and a big sweatshirt, eaten croissants with cherry jam, and started work.
    Vivien had been quite right, she’d realised unhappily, as she’d put down the script a couple of hours later. A lot of the book seemed to have been written on auto-pilot. Yet the basic idea of two strangers thrown together in marriage for dynastic reasons was a strong one.
    Normally she’d have revelled in every minute of it. Now she could see she’d just been going through the motions. The chemistry—the danger was lacking.
    It was more than a question of a few alterations.Her best bet would be to junk the whole thing and start again.
    And she’d made a new beginning. In fact she’d made several. But when the only words she’d