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pressed his mouth to
hers. It was a sweet, gentle kiss, and never would Courtney have expected her
world to be so rocked by it. But jolted she was. As his lips held hers and the
heat of his breath seared her mouth, a current of sexual need warmed her
midsection, then arced treacherously lower. She gasped against his mouth, and
felt his strong arms move to envelop her. The protectiveness of his gesture
further melted her. For a preppie Brit, this man certainly knew how to kiss.
When his hot tongue just teased the contours of her lips, she went light-headed
and could feel her insides melting.
    “Well?” he asked a moment later.
    “I—I think we’ll be believable,”
she managed huskily.
    He nuzzled his mouth against her
flushed cheek. “Do you, love? I personally think we could use a bit more
practice.”
    “Sure,” Courtney replied
recklessly, shocking herself to the core. Then she stunned herself even more
when she kissed him this time.

Chapter Three
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    As Mark opened the hotel door for
her, Courtney flashed him a giddy little smile. Goodness, this man was some charmer.
Pretending to be attracted to him was no longer—well, a pretense .
    Once both were inside the glittery
lobby with its posh rugs and gleaming crystal chandeliers, he glanced about.
“Which way?”
    Courtney pointed ahead. “The
Pelican Ballroom.”
    Nodding, Mark took her arm and
ushered her onward. Courtney couldn’t believe her good fortune. Although Mark
had insisted on some kisses in the limo, he’d been clever and charming about
it, unlike the previous boors with their crude come-ons. By contrast, he seemed
a prince in every way. To be frank, she hadn’t minded that intimate interlude
at all. In fact, she’d enjoyed it tremendously, doubtless the reason she’d
rashly kissed him back, in defiance of her usual reserve.
    Inside the vast room with its
massive chandeliers and elegant murals depicting shorebirds, people milled
about in small clumps. Courtney scanned the room, relieved to spot neither
Gideon, Gilchrist, nor Getz present. Good—she was the first back with her
haul—and what a haul.
    Her eyes settled on the chairman,
who stood across the room chatting with two elderly male board members. She
tugged on Mark’s hand. “There he is.”
    Mark scowled at M. Billingham. “So
that’s the old tyrant.”
    “M. Billingham Bootle in the
flesh. Come along.”
    As they stepped up to the group,
M. Billingham turned to eye Mark and Courtney with amusement and interest.
“Well, what have we here, Courtney?”
    Proudly, she proclaimed, “What you
have here, sir, is the winner of your scavenger hunt—and the promotion. Mr. M.
Billingham Bootle, meet my—er, my fiancé, Mr. Mark Wiggleshaft.”
    Amid chuckles from the two board
members, M. Billingham raised an eyebrow in amazement, then offered Mark his
hand. “Mr.—er—Wiggleshaft. Such an interesting name.”
    Mark firmly shook the older man’s
hand. “Mr. Bootle. I must say I find yours equally quaint.”
    With a twinkle in his eyes, M.
Billingham murmured, “So, it appears you’ve swept fair Courtney off her feet,
young man.”
    “Hardly an easy task, but I
somehow managed,” Mark modestly replied, wrapping an arm around Courtney’s
waist. “Isn’t it true, darling?”
    “Of course,” Courtney gushed back.
She turned to M. Billingham. “Mark literally carried me away. Now all that
remains is for you to declare me the victor.”
    But a frown brought M.
Billingham’s bushy white brows rushing together. “Not so fast, my dear. You
were ordered to find an eligible bachelor. I surmise from his accent that this
young man is a Brit, which speaks well of him, of course. I’m always proud to
meet one of my countrymen.” With a bemused glance toward Mark, he finished,
“However, is he otherwise worthy of you?”
    “Oh, definitely,” Courtney spouted
back.
    “I do feel I’d past muster with
Dunn and Bradstreet,” Mark wryly remarked.
    “Furthermore,