A REASON FOR MARRIAGE

Now it was Sara’s turn to look wary as she heard the finality in his tone. A warning, perhaps, that Simon’s lazy good humor was merely a front, an illusion. As if she needed any warning!

“Why are you even continuing to bother pursuing me when there are dozens of women in New York who would be only too flattered to receive the attentions of Simon Hamilton?”

He smiled ruefully. “Because it doesn’t work that way.”

She frowned. “What doesn’t?”

He shrugged those broad shoulders. “I can’t speak for other men, of course, but as far as I’m concerned, desire is exclusive to one woman at a time.”

Sara moistened lips that had become suddenly dry. “That isn’t what I’ve heard…” she said, at least judging by what she’d read about him since they met.

Simon scowled. “Just who the hell have you been listening to, Sara?” he prompted impatiently.

Her gaze avoided meeting that piercing green one. “It’s public knowledge-”

“It’s malicious gossip-accompanied by unreliable articles and photographs in newspapers,” he corrected harshly. “None of which can or should be believed.”

That might be true, but Sara still had to be careful. No doubt Bruce’s version of the breakdown of their relationship would differ greatly from her own. There were always two sides to an unsuccessful relationship… No! Sara couldn’t afford to have any doubts about Simon Hamilton’s callous reputation with women. The physical desire she felt for him already made her feel more vulnerable than she was comfortable with. She had a plan for the rest of her life, and it was a sensible plan-one which did not include an affair for a few weeks with Simon Hamilton!

“Whatever,” she dismissed uninterestedly. “I really do have to leave now.”

“But you’ll come on Thursday at six o’clock?”

Sara sighed at his dogged persistence. “I said I would, yes.”

Simon nodded his satisfaction. Sara might not know it yet-might not want to know it-but that single kiss they had shared had told him that she wanted him too. And Simon had every intention of pursuing her until he had her exactly where he wanted her. In his bed.

—————–

“I totally agree.” Simon grimaced as he saw the look of horror on Sara’s face on Thursday evening as the two of them entered the sitting room of what was now his penthouse apartment on the top floor of Hamilton.

He had received a call from Security a few minutes ago, informing him of her arrival downstairs. Most if not all of the Hamilton employees had gone home now-including Simon’s secretary.

“I think bland must have been the middle name of the previous interior designer.”

“I was thinking it’s just plain ugly…”

Sara couldn’t think what on earth had possessed the previous designer to choose cream and beige as the color scheme in this beautifully appointed room. The furniture, though obviously expensive, was unattractively square and minimalist, and the only saving grace to this room was the impressive one hundred and eighty degree view of New York, visible from the huge picture windows that covered two of the walls.

Not only was the color scheme insipid in the extreme, it didn’t suit the man who now lived here. Simon’s swarthy complexion, dark hair and piercing green eyes required that he be surrounded by the warm colors of the Mediterranean: terracotta, with touches of green and blue, maybe the palest hint of yellow…

Sara brought her thoughts up short as she realized her interior designer instincts had taken over from her common sense. It was two days since she had last seen Simon-two days and two restless nights-during which time Sara had become even more determined that she did not want to spend any more time in this man’s company than she absolutely had to. To do so would be opening herself up to all sorts of disappointment. As such, knowing how this room should look was one thing. Being the one to effect those changes was something else entirely.

Of course it didn’t help Sara to remain detached and professional to see that Simon was dressed as casually as she was this evening. The darkness of his hair was still damp from the shower, and he had obviously changed out of the formal suit he had worn to work today. He was now wearing a black shirt, the collar unbuttoned at his throat and the sleeves turned back to just below his elbows, with a pair of faded blue denims clearly outlining the leanness of his waist and his perfectly taut bottom and long legs.

She straightened briskly. “Are the rest of the rooms as awful?”

“Worse.” He grimaced.

Sara found that hard to believe. “How many rooms are there?”Ccontent © exclusive by Nô/vel(D)ra/ma.Org.

“Four en-suite bedrooms, kitchen, breakfast room, formal dining room, a gym -”

“Okay-a lot.” She grimaced, rummaging through her capacious shoulder bag for her sketchbook and pencil as she continued to look about the room with narrowed, assessing eyes. “It looks more like an impersonal hotel suite than a private apartment.”

“That’s probably because that’s what it was designed to be.” Simon shrugged.

“Zach has his own place in Manhattan. This apartment was used only to entertain business associates in less formal surroundings than the offices downstairs.”

“Do I want to know in what way they were entertained…?” Sara eyed him derisively.

“Just drinks and the occasional dinner,” he assured her dryly.

“I’ll believe you-thousands wouldn’t!”

Simon eyed her ruefully. “I must say, your opinion of the Hamilton family isn’t very high, is it?”

Sara felt the warmth of color enter her cheeks. “I don’t know any of you well enough to make a sound judgment.”

“Yet.”

“Ever,” she stated with finality.

“I’ll go and make us some coffee while you look round,” Simon suggested lightly.

“Okay.” Sara was relieved to be able to turn her attention to her surroundings as she began to sketch in her pad.

Simon stood for several moments and admired the way Sara’s denims clung so lovingly to her curvaceous hips and thighs. The firm swell of her breasts was clearly visible beneath a fitted green blouse, her long dark hair brushed back and secured in a ponytail that made her look younger than her years. He smiled wryly as he realized she had become so absorbed in her work she seemed to have forgotten he was even there. “Cream and sugar?” he asked,