âNow you need someone to satisfyyour needs.â
Emily turned her head and opened her eyes. His head was close, resting on the cushion right by hers. âWhat makes you think I havenât got someone already?â
âIf you did, you wouldnât be looking at me with those hungry eyes.â
She lifted her head, a little on her dignity. âYou donât need to lay it on with a trowel, Luca. Iâm not completely inexperienced.â
âOnly relativelyâsi?â He laughed. âWhat was he? Some young fool who wouldnât know how to give pleasure to a woman even if she gave him step-by-step instructions and a map showing the way?â
She felt the blush covering her cheeks and neck, and she shut her eyes again to pretend it wasnât happening. Heâd been exactly like that.
âEmily. I can offer you nothing but a memory.â His voice was a little strained. âBut I think it would be some memory.â
Praise for Natalie Anderson:
âNatalie Anderson is one of the most exciting voices in steamy romantic fiction writing today. Sassy, witty and emotional, her Modern Heats are in a class of their ownâ¦â
âCataromance
BOUGHT: ONE NIGHT, ONE MARRIAGE
âNatalie Andersonâs latest romance manages to be sexy and sassy, but also deeply emotional and highly poignant. BOUGHT: ONE NIGHT, ONE MARRIAGE is a wonderfully romantic story of unexpected romance thatâs bursting with freshness and exuberance, but it will tug at your heartstrings and have you reaching for the tissues as well. Moving, well-written and utterly compelling, in BOUGHT: ONE NIGHT, ONE MARRIAGE, Natalie Anderson has outdone herself once again!â
âCataromance
Possibly the only librarian who got told off herself for talking too much, Natalie Anderson decided writing books might be more fun than shelving themâand, boy, is it that! Especially writing romanceâ itâs the realisation of a lifetime dream, kick-started by many an afternoon spent devouring Grandmaâs Mills & Boons>®⦠She lives in New Zealand, with her husband and four gorgeous-but-exhausting children. Swing by her website any timeâsheâd love to hear from you: www. natalie-anderson.com
Recent titles by the same author:
PLEASURED IN THE PLAYBOYâS PENTHOUSE
BOUGHT: ONE NIGHT, ONE MARRIAGE
PLEASURED BY THE SECRET MILLIONAIRE
For Rosie and Simon.
You two have the most incredible generosity, kindness and sheer zest for life. Our holiday in London at Casa King-Currie was amazingâevery moment fun and relaxing and memorable. Luca and Emilyâs story would never have come out into the light if it hadnât been for the break you enabled us to have, and for that I really, really thank you.
CHAPTER ONE
ARROGANCE personified. Emily stared at him, her temper going from sizzling to spitting hot. He stood right in front of her, with the height of a basketball star, and shoulders the breadth of a rugby prop. A man mountain, a mighty example of the male in physical prime. Totally obscuring her view. Totally commanding attention.
Typical.
Worse than that, he had one of those fancy phone gadgets that did everythingânot merely phone calls, but music, web connection, cameraâthe works. And every time he pushed the buttons they beeped. Loudly. The overture was about to begin, Emily found the rapid succession of beeps incredibly annoying.
Pointedly, she cleared her throat.
She had not spent the last year working crazy hours, scrimping and saving every last cent to get her sister and herself all the way to Italy and to this fabulous opera only for the moment to be ruined by some selfish jerk who thought his social life was more important than the live performance about to unfold. More important than showing some respect to the other people there who wanted to appreciate the evening.
She cleared her throat again.
Fractionally he turned, threw a quick glance her way, but the beeping didnât stop. Rather it was the cacophony of trills and fragments of well-known phrases that ceased as under the direction of the lead violinist the orchestra stilled. Then came the lone note from the oboe to which the other instruments would tune. But did that stop him? No. The purity of the sound was shattered by the relentless beeping.
Any minute now the conductor would walk out and applause would greet him. Beeps didnât constitute applause. Beeps were annoying. And she couldnât see through him.
She glared at his back now as well as clearing her throat once more. A tailored jacket hung from those doorframe-wide shoulders, one hand on his hip pulling the jacket back, emphasising the narrowing of his torso to a slim waist and hips. She knew there were serious muscles under the white shirt and dark trousers. Sheâd watched as heâd walked up from the super-expensive seats. He was hard not to notice, taller than almost all the people there. From the front sheâd seen the way his shirt neatly tucked into his trousers with not an ounce of anything unnecessaryâlike fatârippling the smooth, straight stretch of white cotton. Well dressed, good-looking, so sophisticated and cool in this hot and crowded space. She figured heâd come up so as not to disturb those in his own elite strataâno, heâd conduct his business and bother the plebs up in the cheap seats.