The Marriage Bargain by Sandra Edwards Page A

cocktail glass and slurped the bottom of the empty frozen treat.
    The waiter brought them an appetizer plate of pan-fried prawns and cannelloni. He glanced at Julian, who motioned to Camille’s glass and then nodded him away post-haste.
    “How many points do I need to get something good?” Julian asked Camille, and then drained his champagne glass.
    “Just two more.” She giggled. The liquor kept her from blushing. “So pay attention.”
    She laughed and reached for a prawn. Not only did it taste divine, but she needed to put something on her stomach since she wasn’t a big drinker.
    “Speaking of debts.” He let the words linger on his tongue.
    Camille got the feeling this wasn’t going to be good. Was he going to claim his prize for their bet over Pacifique de Lumière?
    “Okay. Okay.” She laughed it off. “I was suitably impressed. You win.” She forced her gaze up to meet his. “So, what’s your reward?”
    “Nothing more than the pleasure of your company, Chéri,” he said with a smile that could melt Antarctica.
    Damn. This guy was good. If he made a pass, Camille doubted she’d be able to resist.
    A smorgasbord of food arrived just in time to keep her from throwing herself at him, and filled all the vacant space on the table.
    Julian was invitingly attentive, filling her plate with samples from all the dishes, a variety of lobster, escargot, lamb, duck and filet mignon.
    She nibbled on lobster dipped in butter, savoring the sweet, creamy flavors. “So, when exactly are we getting married here?”
    “I think the sooner the better,” he said between bites of lamb and steak. “I’d like to send my brother for your friend in a day or two, and then we can have the ceremony at the end of the week.” His sea-green eyes studied her face. “How does that sound?”
    She propped her elbow on the table and rested her chin in her hand. Excuses danced across her mind, none of them viable enough to stick. “Sounds fine.” Not interested in finding a reason to say ‘no’, she turned her focus to the delectable fares. “What’s this?” she asked, pointing to a bowl of small shells in butter sauce. She had ideas about the dish’s identity but refrained from passing judgment.
    “Escargot,” he said as if it was no big deal, but there wasn’t any on his plate.
    She swallowed hard and tried to push the confirmation out of her head. “I’m not really in to snails.” She took quick short breaths, nausea setting in. “In fact, they’re kind of gross.”
    Julian laughed. “My sentiments exactly, Chéri. You’re probably the first person I’ve met who doesn’t enjoy the delicacy.”
    Camille giggled. “Care to make a wager on how many people eat these things and actually like them?” She tossed her hair back over her shoulder. “I know a lot of people who wouldn’t touch that stuff with a ten foot pole.” She scooped the shell up between two fingers and inspected it. Ugh ! Distaste rattled her shoulders.
    Julian laughed again, picked up the plate of Escargot and passed it to the attendant waiting near the door. “Please, take this to the kitchen,” he said, with an impersonal nod.
    It bothered Camille, the way he talked to the restaurant’s staff. How long before he’d start talking to her that way? She too, after all, was hired help.
    C amille had grown quiet all of a sudden. It bothered Julian when she did that. He didn’t like wondering if he’d done or said something wrong. Her disappointed looks showered him with feelings of inadequacy.
    Even so, her hearty appetite was refreshing. Dining with a girl who wasn’t afraid to eat was pleasing. Julian was going to enjoy the next six months.
    An attendant cleared away the last of their nearly empty plates.
    Julian wondered what else he could do to charm Camille. Of course, she had asked to go for a walk along the beach, but what else would make the occasion special?
    The waiter approached the table. “Would the lady care for some