Lulu Lachaille's secret agoraphobia won't stop her from attending her best friend's big day. She feels utterly out of her depth, but that isn't the reason her heart is pounding…
The cynical best man, Argentinian polo god Alejandro du Crozier, hates weddings… until he gets inconveniently stranded in the Scottish Highlands with the alluring maid of honour!
The temptation inexperienced Lulu presents is too much for Alejandro to refuse. But du Crozier is determined to keep Lulu under his command, so he whisks her away to Buenos Aires until he is sure that their recklessness hasn't left lasting consequences…
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'We appear to be lost,' she said unwillingly.
'You don't say.'
His voice was husky, but not with sleep. Lulu swallowed.
There was also something very intimate about their proximity, as if the darkness outside and the quiet within had made the space between them somehow more personal.
Lulu licked her lips. 'I don't know where we are.''Fortunate isn't it,' he said in that low, taunting voice, 'that I do?'
He undid his seatbelt and opened the car door.
'I'm driving,' he said unnecessarily.
Lulu released the breath she didn't know she was holding and rather than stepping outside, scrambled nimbly over the gearbox and tucked her skirts around her in the passenger seat.
Alejandro took the wheel and swung the car back out onto the road.
'How do you know?' she demanded.
'I saw the last sign, we're just outside Inverness.'
Relief swamped her. Then she frowned. 'But you were asleep.'
'Let's just say I'm not a heavy sleeper, querida,' he responded with a glint in his eyes.
She knew it! Impossible man. But her heart was pounding a little and she found herself watching him and waiting to see what he'd do next.
Alejandro had them on the highway within ten short minutes. Lulu discovered she was feeling a little out of sorts now her adventure was over.
She tried to envisage the weekend ahead on her own and it was so depressing she found herself shaping sentences in her head she didn't know if she had the guts to go through with, let alone ask.
I'm on my own this weekend… you're on your own, I'm maid-of-honour… you're best man. Doesn't it make sense if we pair up? Maybe you could kiss me again?
And that was when a huge gust of wind buffeted the car and all the available light left in the sky dwindled to nothing and the rain came down.
Alejandro slowed them to a crawl along with the two or three other vehicles on the road.
'Kilantree,' read a sign ahead under the spray of their headlights, 'one kilometer.'
'Is Kilantree near Dunlosie Castle?' she asked.
'Not near enough.' To her surprise Alejandro eased the car into the turn-off lane.
'What are you doing?'
'It's dark, it's raining, and I don't know these roads. We won't make Dunlosie tonight.'
'What does that mean?' Although all of a sudden she did know, and for the first time in years having her routine destroyed didn't bring on feelings of anxiety. Quite the contrary…
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