Marrying the Enemy by Nicola Marsh

a stranger; a stranger in competition with the family business. A stranger who’d had his sights set on acquiring that business.
    He inwardly cringed, hoping Ruby hadn’t divulged that gem. If she didn’t want to stress her sister, telling her his initial plan would’ve been the way to go.
    Pulling under a carport, he cut the engine. Ruby’s eyes instantly opened and she blinked before focusing on the house.
    Her delighted smile slugged him like a right hook. He’d wanted her to like it. He hadn’t wanted her to look at him as if he’d delivered the royal jewels on a platter.
    ‘How’d you find this place?’
    He pointed to his mobile. ‘Trusty Google.’
    ‘It’s gorgeous.’ Her hand snaked across the console and rested on his, making his heart squirm with unexpected pleasure. ‘Thanks.’
    ‘No worries.’
    He slid his hand out on the pretext of opening the door when in fact he needed to bolt. Feeling this unsettled didn’t sit well with him.
    And that was exactly what she did: unsettle him.
    He dated women. He didn’t feel anything for them.
    Heartless, maybe, but why get emotionally involved when he knew from the outset it wasn’t going anywhere?
    Exactly like his marriage, so why the constant edginess that had him wanting to cosset her and touch her and be with her?
    Man, he needed to get laid sooner rather than later.
    Getting their relationship back on a level he understood would eradicate his funk.
    That was the plan and he was sticking to it.
    He popped the boot, grabbed their bags and allowed her to precede him up the path to the glaringly blue front door.
    ‘Let me.’ She took the key from his hand and unlocked the door.
    When she didn’t move for a good ten seconds, he lowered the bags. ‘What are you waiting for?’
    She rolled her eyes. ‘For you to carry me over the threshold, dummy.’
    ‘You can’t be serious.’
    ‘Perfectly.’ She pointed inside. ‘I’m not setting foot in your little love nest ’til you carry me inside.’
    Love nest?
    The woman was incorrigible.
    How had she gone from silent to sassy? Probably covering for what had gone down with her sister but, boy, could she flick a switch quick.
    ‘What if I have a bad back?’
    Her eyes narrowed as he braced his hands in the small of his back. ‘Do you?’
    He couldn’t keep a straight face. ‘No, but I might after carrying you.’
    ‘That does it.’
    She placed both palms flat against his chest and shoved, hard enough to make him stumble.
    He captured her hands, using them as leverage to tug her flush against him. ‘I love it when you’re feisty.’
    ‘Don’t try to sweet-talk me, Back Boy.’
    He snorted. ‘Back Boy?’
    ‘If the brace fits.’
    He laughed, her quick wit turning him on as much as her wriggling to escape his grasp.
    ‘You should do that more often.’ She reached up and touched the corner of his smiling mouth with a fingertip. Her touch lingered, tempted. He wanted to turn his head a fraction and suck her finger into his mouth, a prelude to what he’d do to the rest of her body.
    ‘So who are you really, Jax Maroney?’ Her hand fell away and he irrationally missed her touch. ‘Because I’m guessing I’ll need to know more about the man behind the grumpy mask considering we’re married now.’
    She couldn’t have quelled his libido harder if she tried. He didn’t want to reveal anything to her. Not his innermost thoughts, fears or desires.
    The only desire he wanted to show her involved the two of them naked.
    ‘You talk too much.’ He stepped into her personal space, forcing her to back up.
    Excitement sparked in her eyes as her mouth curved into a wicked smile. ‘Healthier than keeping everything bottled in.’
    He took another step, she backed up again. ‘I don’t need you to psychoanalyse me.’
    ‘Then what do you need me for?’
    ‘This.’
    He crushed his mouth to hers, her squeal of surprise quickly giving way to a low moan of pleasure. It was exactly like the kiss at