As he removed his shirt, Ben paused for another gigantic yawn.

He seemed to be tanned all over, Megan thought, staring in fascination at his broad shoulders and chest. She moistened her lips with her tongue and almost went across to him. He even raised one eyebrow as if inviting her.

No. She took a step backwards. Not now. Not with the evening’s reception still to come. She didn’t want one hair out of place as she faced these strangers.

She went into the living area and curled up on a white leather sofa with one of the glossy magazines provided by the hotel open on her lap. But didn’t read a word or even notice the pictures. The scent of perfect pink roses filled her nostrils and her own reflection stared back at her from several gilt-framed mirrors.

Black lace negligée, red hair flaming above it, white sofa – and a terrified expression on her face.

You’re being utterly stupid today, she told that reflection. What’s got into you, Megan Ross? Snap out of it.

But she was not Megan Ross now. She was Megan Saunders. And somehow, she didn’t seem to know herself any more. It had all happened too fast.

It wasn’t that she was regretting the marriage, definitely not, but she felt as if she were being dragged along by runaway horses, galloping out of control, and who knew where she’d end up?

She took a deep breath. She’d end up happily married if it was up to her.

Only… that was up to Ben, too.

Chapter 7

Ben woke an hour and a half later as if he’d had an alarm clock next to the bed. He looked refreshed and suggested they get ready and go down early. ‘I want to drink your health before the guests arrive, Mrs Saunders. Here, let me do up that hook.’

His hands on the nape of her neck made her shiver in anticipation. ‘You make an excellent lady’s maid,’ she said, her voice coming out breathless.

‘I’m going to be even better at helping you out of those clothes later on,’ he murmured suggestively, his fingers toying with a lock of her hair.

‘I wish there were no reception,’ she admitted. ‘I’d prefer it to be just the two of us.’ And she would love him to help her out of her clothes – slowly.

He stepped away with obvious reluctance, offered her his arm and led her over to the mirror.

The immaculately dressed couple staring back at them both seemed like strangers to Megan. Was that really her? She had never looked so good, she knew. But it didn’t seem like her. Didn’t feel like her, either. ‘You look very handsome,’ she said quietly.