Книга - Taken Over by the Billionaire

Taken Over by the Billionaire
Miranda Lee


Driven to distraction…Hotshot entrepreneur Benjamin Da Silva is used to being in the driving seat, but when he finds himself in need of a chauffeur, beautiful, straight-talking Jess Murphy proves that sometimes taking his foot off the pedal can be equally pleasurable!Jess isn’t impressed by his wealth but each glimpse in the rear-view mirror has her aching to climb into the backseat and submit to Benjamin’s every command. His recent takeover cost her her job and she knows she should steer clear – so why can’t she get off the collision course leading right towards Benjamin?Taken Over by The Billionaire -4 * RT Book ReviewLee’s kismet-with-kink tale is both riotous and heartfelt, set in the verdant beauty of Australia. Her co-stars range from quirky to conventional, and while her outspoken heroine and stubborn mogul hero seem ill fated, they mesh perfectly.Miranda Lee is a much loved, Mills & Boon author who excels at scandalous, dark and dangerous, brooding billionaires who are used to keeping women for as many nights as they want, and then discarding them! But when they meet someone who throws their best-laid plans off track, will these imposing, irrepressible men be brought to their knees by love?Praise for Miranda LeeA Man Without Mercy - 4 * RT Book ReviewWith tons of personality of its own, Lee’s quirky mansion is the ideal setting for this lively Down Under romance. Her stars are the perfect match for each other, and their passion sizzles.Master of Her Virtue - 4 * RT Book ReviewLee’s couple fits together well despite their differences, and her love scenes are both playful and seriously hot in this romance that shows how adoration can grow from the physical as well as the emotional.Add a wonderful Miranda Lee title to your collection!







It was a force of nature, Jess’s smile. Ben felt it down deep in his gut. His flesh leapt.

This is not what I need right now.

But then he thought … why not? He’d finished with his latest in a long string of socialites. What was to stop him from exploring this attraction further?

Ben almost laughed. Because this wasn’t just attraction he was suddenly feeling. This was lust—an emotion he was not unfamiliar with. But this time it felt stronger. Much stronger.

Impossible to ignore.

Impossible not to pursue.

He could hardly contain the burst of triumph he experienced when she noticed him assessing her, and he heard her sharply indrawn breath, watched her reef her eyes back to the road as if the hounds of hell were after her.

And perhaps they were, he thought darkly. Be damned with his conscience! Be damned with common sense! He had to have her. And soon.


MIRANDA LEE is Australian, and lives near Sydney. Born and raised in the bush, she was boarding-school-educated, and briefly pursued a career in classical music before moving to Sydney and embracing the world of computers. Happily married, with three daughters, she began writing when family commitments kept her at home. She likes to create stories that are believable, modern, fast-paced and sexy. Her interests include meaty sagas, doing word puzzles, gambling and going to the movies.


Taken Over by the Billionaire

Miranda Lee






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Contents

Cover (#u84a2bb5c-3f3e-533f-a5c4-e630f384ab67)

Introduction (#u5ca5e9d5-2dca-5ac5-9bc1-88625b1eee8e)

About the Author (#u492e94af-632f-5d18-9357-4617c3cc1182)

Title Page (#u25624cea-d4d7-5b05-968f-f3284676ad89)

CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_1366b9d3-7ec7-56de-9911-70b36d3d1dbe)

CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_e53bdf65-4ea0-5e0f-94db-5bc842feaa33)

CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_9965a52b-8851-5a2f-9773-bde30063c7ab)

CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_9ae3bfab-9e08-5d64-9691-564743e4073e)

CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_9bd8f2a4-ef64-537b-be8a-2d86fe8326ec)

CHAPTER SIX (#ulink_18efacf7-6769-500b-89c3-0b2aed3ee06e)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#ulink_6f578a5b-cc0a-5c27-91f6-35eee78a0026)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)

EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_d6534982-5166-5d97-a7c6-9f9105df3faf)

MURPHY’S LAW STATED that if anything could possibly go wrong, then eventually it would.

Jess did not subscribe to this theory, despite the fact that her surname was Murphy. But her father was a firm believer. Whenever anything annoying or frustrating happened, such as a flat tyre when he was driving a bride to her wedding—Joe owned a hire-car business—then he blamed it on Murphy’s Law: bad weather at the weekends; down-turns in the stock market. Recently, he’d even blamed the defeat of his favourite football team in the grand final on Murphy’s Law.

Admittedly, her dad was somewhat superstitious by nature.

Unlike her father, Jess’s view of unfortunate events was way more rational. Things happened, not because a perverse twist of fate was just waiting to spoil things for you without rhyme or reason, but because of something someone had done or not done. Flat tyres and stock-market crashes didn’t just happen. There was always a logical reason.

Jess didn’t blame Murphy’s Law for her boyfriend suddenly having decided last month that he no longer wanted to drive around Australia with her, having opted instead to go backpacking around the whole, stupid world for the next year! With a mate of his, would you believe? Never mind that she’d just gone into hock to buy a brand-new four-wheel drive for their romantic road trip together. Or that she’d started thinking he might be Mr Right. The truth, once she’d calmed down long enough to face it, was that Colin had caught the travel bug and obviously wasn’t ready to settle down just yet. He still loved her—he claimed—and had asked her to wait for him.

Naturally, she’d told him what he could do with that idea!

Neither had Jess blamed Murphy’s Law for recently having lost her much-loved part-time job at a local fashion boutique. She knew exactly why she’d been let go. Some cash-rich American company had bought up the Fab Fashions chain for a bargain price—Fab Fashions was in financial difficulties—and had then sent over some bigwig who had threatened the managers of all the stores that, if they didn’t show a profit by the end of the year, all the retail outlets would be closed down in favour of online shopping. Hence the trimming of staff.

Actually, Helen hadn’t wanted to let her go. Jess was an excellent salesgirl. But it was either her or Lily, who was a single mother who really needed her job, whereas Jess didn’t. Jess had a full-time job during the week working at Murphy’s Hire Car. She’d only taken the weekend job at Fab Fashions because she was mad about fashion and wanted to learn as much as she could about the industry, with a plan one day to open her own boutique or online store. So of course, under the circumstances, she couldn’t let Helen fire poor Lily.

But she’d seethed for days over the greed of this American company. Not to mention the stupidity. Why hadn’t this idiot they’d sent over found out why Fab Fashions wasn’t making a profit? She could have told him. But, no, that would have taken some intelligence. And time!

Before she’d been let go last weekend, she’d asked Helen if she knew the name of this idiot, and she’d been told he was a Mr De Silva. Mr Benjamin De Silva. Some searching on the Internet just this morning had revealed a news item outlining the takeover of several Australian companies—including Fab Fashions—by De Silva & Associates, a private equity firm based in New York. When she looked up De Silva & Associates, Jess discovered that the major partner and CEO was Morgan De Silva, who was sixty-five years old and had been on the Forbes rich list for yonks. Which meant he was a billionaire. He was divorced—surprise, surprise!—with one son, Benjamin De Silva: the idiot they’d sent out. A clear case of nepotism at work, given his lack of intelligence and lateral thinking.

The office phone rang and Jess snatched it up.

‘Murphy’s Hire Car,’ she said, trying not to let her irritation show through in her voice.

‘Hi, there. I have a problem which I sure hope you can help me with.’

The voice was male, with an American accent.

Jess did her best to put aside any bias she was currently feeling towards American males.

‘I’ll do my best, sir,’ she said as politely as she could manage.

‘I need to hire a car and driver for three full days, starting first thing tomorrow morning.’

Jess’s eyebrows lifted. They didn’t often have people wanting to hire one of their cars and drivers for that length of time. Mostly, Murphy’s Hire Car did special events which began and ended on the one day: weddings; graduations; anniversary dates; trips to Sydney airport; that sort of thing. Based on the central coast a couple of hours north of Sydney, they weren’t an overly large concern. They only had seven hire cars which included three white limousines for weddings and other flash events, two white Mercedes sedans for less flash events and one black limousine with tinted windows for people with plenty of money who wanted privacy.

Recently her father had bought a vintage blue convertible Cadillac but it wouldn’t be ready for hiring till next week, having needed new leather seats. Jess knew without even looking up this weekend’s bookings on the computer that she wouldn’t be able to help the American. They had several weddings on. Not uncommon given that it was spring. ‘I’m sorry, sir, but we’re fully booked this weekend. You’ll have to try someone else.’

His weary sigh elicited some sympathy in Jess. ‘I’ve already tried every other hire car company on the Central Coast,’ he said. ‘Look, are you absolutely certain you can’t wangle something? I don’t need a limo or anything fancy. Any car and driver would do. I have to be in Mudgee for a wedding on Saturday, not to mention the stag party tomorrow night. The groom’s my best friend and I’m the best man. But a drunk driver ran into me last night, wrecked my rental and left me unable to drive myself. I’ve a bunged up right shoulder.’

‘That’s terrible.’ Jess hated drivers who drank. ‘I truly wish I could help you, sir.’ Which she genuinely did. It would be awful if he couldn’t make it to his best friend’s wedding.

‘I’m prepared to pay over and above your normal rates,’ he offered just as she was about to suggest he try one of the larger hire car firms in Sydney. They could surely send a car up to him lickety-split. He might even have success hiring an ordinary taxi.

‘How much over and above?’ she asked, thinking of the hefty repayments she had to make on her SUV.

‘If you get me a car and driver, you can name your own price.’

Wow, Jess thought. This American had to be loaded. He could probably afford to charter a helicopter—not that she was going to suggest such a thing. Jess wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

‘Okay, Mr…er…?’

‘De Silva,’ he said.

Jess’s mouth dropped open.

‘Benjamin De Silva,’ he elaborated.

Jess’s mouth remained agape as she took in this amazing coincidence. With his being American and having such a distinctive name, he had to be the same man!

‘Are you still there?’ he finally asked after twenty seconds of shocked silence.

‘Yes, yes, I’m still here. Sorry, I…er…was distracted for a moment. The cat just walked onto my keyboard and I lost a file.’ In actual fact, the family moggie was sound asleep on a sun-drenched window sill, a good ten metres away from Jess’s desk.

‘You have a cat in your office?’

He actually sounded appalled. No doubt there were no cats allowed in the pompous Mr De Silva’s office.

‘This a home-run business, Mr De Silva,’ she said somewhat stiffly.

‘I see,’ he said. ‘Sorry. No offence intended. So, can you help me or not?’

Well, of course she could help him. And it was no longer just a question of money. For how could she possibly give up the opportunity to tell the high and mighty Mr Benjamin De Silva what was wrong with Fab Fashions?

Surely there would be plenty of opportunities somehow to bring up her lost job during the course of their very long drive together. Mudgee was a long way away. She’d never actually been there but she’d seen it on the map when she and Colin had been planning their trip. It was a large country town in the central west of New South Wales, a good five-or six-hour drive from here, maybe longer, depending on the state of the roads and the number of times her passenger wanted to stop.

‘I can take you myself, if you like,’ she offered. ‘I am well over twenty-one, a qualified mechanic and an advanced driving instructor.’ She only helped out in the office on Mondays and Thursdays. ‘I also own a brand-new four-wheel drive which won’t have any trouble negotiating the roads out Mudgee way.’

‘I’m impressed. And extremely grateful.’

And so you should be, she thought a little tartly.

‘So where exactly are you now, Mr De Silva? I’m presuming you’re on the Central Coast somewhere.’

‘I’m staying in an apartment at Blue Bay.’ He gave her the address.

Jess frowned as she tapped it into the computer, wondering why a businessman like him would be staying up here instead of in Sydney. It seemed odd. Maybe he was just doing the tourist thing whilst he was in the country. Combining business with pleasure, as well as going to his best friend’s wedding.

‘And the address in Mudgee where I’ll be taking you?’ she asked.

‘It’s not actually in Mudgee,’ he replied. ‘It’s a property called Valleyview Winery, not far from Mudgee. It’s not difficult to find. It’s on a main road which connects the highway to Mudgee. After you drop me off, you could stay at a motel in Mudgee till I need you to drive me back here again on the Sunday. At my expense, of course.’

‘So you won’t actually need me to drive you anywhere on the Saturday?’

‘No, but I’ll pay you for the day just the same.’

‘This is going to be ridiculously expensive, Mr De Silva.’

‘I’m not worried about that. Name your price and I’ll pay it.’

Jess pulled a face. It must be nice never having to worry about money. She was tempted to say some exorbitant amount but of course she didn’t. Her father would be appalled at her if she did such a thing. Joe Murphy was as honest as the day was long.

‘How about a thousand dollars a day, plus expenses?’ Mr De Silva suggested before she could calculate a reasonable fee.

‘That’s too much,’ she protested before she could think better of it.

‘I don’t agree. It’s fair, under the circumstances.’

‘Fine,’ she said briskly. Who was she to argue with Mr Moneybags? ‘Now, I will need some other details.’

‘Like what?’ he demanded in a rather irritated tone.

‘Your mobile phone number,’ she said. ‘And your passport number.’

‘Okay. I’ll have to go get my passport. I won’t be long.’

Jess smiled whilst he gathered the information he wanted. Three thousand dollars was a very nice sum.

‘Here we are,’ he said on returning, and read out the number.

‘We also need a contact name and number,’ she said as she typed in the details. ‘In case of an emergency.’

‘Good grief. Is all this strictly necessary?’

‘Yes, sir,’ she said, wanting to make sure he was the right man. ‘Company rules.’

‘Fine. My father will have to do. Mum’s on a cruise. But Dad does live in New York.’

‘I did assume he’d be American, Mr De Silva. You have an American accent. His name and number, please?’

‘Morgan De Silva,’ he said and Jess smiled. She’d known it had to be him!

He rattled off a phone number which she quickly typed in.

‘Do you want to pay for this via your credit card or cash?’ she asked crisply.

‘Which would you prefer?’

‘Credit card,’ she said.

‘Fine,’ he said, a decided edge creeping into his voice. ‘I have it here.’

He read out the number. American Express, of course.

‘Okay. That’s all done. We’ll deduct one thousand dollars in advance and the rest on completion.’

‘Fine,’ he bit out.

‘What time would you like me to pick you up tomorrow morning, Mr De Silva?’

‘What time do you suggest? I’d like to be out there by mid-afternoon. But first, could we dispense with the “Mr De Silva” bit? Call me Benjamin. Or Ben, if you’d prefer.’

‘If you like,’ she said, slightly taken aback by this offer. Australians were quick to be on a first-name basis but she’d found people from other countries weren’t quite so easy going. Especially those who were wealthy. Maybe Mr De Silva wasn’t as pompous as she’d originally thought.

‘As to time,’ she went on with a little less starch in her own voice, ‘I would suggest that I pick you up at seven-fifteen. That way we’ll avoid the worst of the traffic. Any earlier and we’ll run into the tradies plus Sydney commuters. Any later and it’ll be the people going to work at Westfield’s, not to mention the mothers taking their kids to school.’ Lord, but she was babbling on a bit. She could almost hear him sighing down the line.

‘Seven-fifteen it is, then,’ he said abruptly as soon as she gave him the opportunity to speak. ‘I’ll be waiting outside so we don’t waste time.’

Jess’s eyebrows lifted. She’d picked up a few well-heeled tourists in her time and they rarely did things like that. They always made her knock, were often late and never helped her with their luggage—if it was a trip to the airport, that was, and not just a day out somewhere.

‘Excellent,’ she said. ‘I won’t be late.’

‘Perhaps you should give me your mobile phone number, just in case you don’t show up for reasons outside your control.’

Jess rolled her eyes. It sounded like he was another subscriber to Murphy’s Law. But what the heck? She was used to it.

‘Very well.’ And she rattled off her number.

‘And what should I call you, Miss…er…?’

‘Murphy. Jessica Murphy.’ She was about to say he could call her Jess—everyone else did—but simply couldn’t bring herself to be that friendly to him. He was still the enemy, after all.

So she said a businesslike goodbye instead and hung up.


CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_48c9432e-1611-5d44-963a-ecdf5299430f)

BEN SIGHED AS he flipped his phone shut and slipped it into his jeans pocket. The last thing he wanted to do was be driven all the way to Mudgee tomorrow by Miss Jessica Murphy, qualified mechanic and advanced driving instructor, he thought grumpily as he headed for the drinks cabinet. She’d declared herself well over twenty-one. More likely well over forty. And plain as a pikestaff to boot!

Still, what choice did he have after that doctor at Gosford hospital had declared him unfit to drive for at least a week? Not because of the excuse he’d given over the phone just now. His right shoulder was stiff and bruised but quite usable. It was the concussion he’d suffered which was the problem, the doctor having explained that no insurance company would cover him till he had a signed medical clearance.

Stupid, really. He felt fine. A little tired and frustrated, maybe, but basically fine.

Ben scowled as he sloshed a good two inches of his mother’s best bourbon into one of her crystal glasses. He supposed he should be feeling grateful he’d found a hire car at all, not irritated. But Miss Jessica Murphy had got right up his nose. There was a fine line between efficient and officious and she’d certainly been straddling it. He half-regretted making the offer for her to call him Ben, but he’d had to do something to warm the old tartar up, otherwise the drive tomorrow would be worse than tedious.

If only his mother had been here, Ben thought as he headed for the kitchen in search of ice. She could have driven him. But she wasn’t. She was off on a South Pacific cruise with her latest lover.

Admittedly, this one was older than her usual. In his mid-fifties, Lionel was only a few years Ava’s junior. And he was currently employed—something in movie production—so he was a big improvement on the other fortune-hunting toy-boys who’d graced her bed over the years since his parents’ divorce.

Not that his mother’s affairs bothered him much these days. Ben had finally grown up enough to know his mother’s personal life was none of his business. A pity she didn’t return the favour, he thought as he scooped a few cubes of ice from the fridge’s automatic ice-dispenser and dropped them in his glass. She was always asking him when he was going to get married and give her grandchildren.

So maybe it was better she wasn’t here right now. The last thing he wanted was outside pressure about his relationship with Amber. He was having enough trouble as it was, deciding whether he should give up the romantic notion of marrying for love and settle for what Amber was offering. At least if he married Amber he wouldn’t have to worry about her being a fortune hunter, which was always a problem when a man was heir to billions. Amber was the only daughter of a very wealthy property developer, so she didn’t need a meal ticket in a husband.

In all honesty, Ben hadn’t been under the impression that Amber wanted a husband at all yet. She was only twenty-four and was clearly enjoying her life as a single girl with a glamorous though empty job at an art gallery, a full social calendar and a boyfriend who kept her sexually satisfied. But, just before his trip down under, Amber had suddenly asked Ben if he was ever going to propose. She said she loved him, but she didn’t want to waste any more time on him if he didn’t love her back and didn’t want marriage and children.

Of course he hadn’t been able to tell her that he loved her back, because he didn’t. He’d said that he liked her a lot but did not love her. Ben had been somewhat surprised when she’d replied that she would be happy enough with his liking her a lot. He’d assumed—wrongly, it seemed—that a woman genuinely in love would be more heartbroken by his own lack of love. Apparently not! She’d given him till Christmas to make up his mind. After that, she would be looking elsewhere for a husband.

Ben lifted the bourbon to his lips as he wandered back into the living room and over to the glass wall which overlooked the beach. But he wasn’t really looking at the ocean view. He was recalling how he’d told Amber that he would think about her offer whilst he was in Australia and give her an answer on his return.

And he had been thinking. A lot. He did want marriage and children. One day. But, hell, he was only thirty-one. On top of that, he wanted to feel more for his future wife than he currently felt for Amber. He wanted to fall deeply in love, and vice versa, the kind of love you had no doubts over. The kind which would last. Divorce was not on his agenda. Ben knew first-hand how damaging divorce was to children, even when the parents were civilised about it, as his own parents had been. His workaholic father had sensibly and generously given Ben’s mother full custody of Ben, allowing her to bring him back to Australia, with the proviso that Ben spent some of his school holidays with him in America.

Ben had still been devastated to find out that his parents no longer loved each other. He’d only been eleven at the time, and totally ignorant of the circumstances which had led to the divorce. It was testament to his parents’ mutual love of their son that they’d never criticised each other in front of him, never blamed each other for the break-up of the marriage. They’d both just said that sometimes people fell out of love and it was better that they live apart.

Ben had hated coming to Australia at first, but he eventually grew to love this wonderful laid-back country and his life out here. He’d loved the school he’d been sent to and the many friends he’d made here. He’d especially loved his years at Sydney University, studying law and flat-sharing with Andy, his very best friend. It wasn’t till he’d graduated that his father had finally told him the ugly truth: that his mother had trapped him into marriage by getting pregnant. She’d never loved him. She’d just wanted a wealthy husband. Yes, he’d also admitted to having been unfaithful to her, but only after she’d confessed the truth to him one night.

His father had claimed he hated hurting Ben with these revelations but believed it was in his best interests.

‘You are going to inherit great wealth, son,’ Morgan De Silva had said at the time. ‘You need to understand the corrupting power of money. You must always keep your wits about you, especially when it comes to women.’

When a distressed Ben had confronted his mother, she’d been furious with his father, but hadn’t denied she’d married the billionaire for his money, though she’d done her best to explain why. Born dirt-poor but beautiful, she’d had a tough childhood but had finally made it as a model in Australia and then overseas, having been taken on by a prestigious New York agency. For several years she’d made very good money but just before she’d turned thirty she’d discovered that her manager hadn’t invested her money wisely, as she’d believed, instead having wasted it all on gambling.

Suddenly, she’d been close to broke again and, whilst she’d still been very beautiful, her career hadn’t been what it once was. So, when the super-wealthy Morgan De Silva had come on the scene, obviously infatuated with the lovely Australian blonde, she’d allowed herself to be seduced in more ways than one. She’d been attracted to him, she’d insisted, but had admitted to Ben that she didn’t love his father, saying she doubted he’d loved her either. It had just been a case of lust.

‘The only thing your father loves,’ she’d told Ben with some bitterness, ‘is money.’

Ben had argued back that this wasn’t true. His father loved him. Which belief had prompted his move to America shortly after his graduation from university.

Not that he’d cut his mother out of his life altogether. She’d been a wonderful mother to him and he still loved her, despite her faults and flaws. They talked every week or so on the phone, but he didn’t visit all that often, mostly because he rarely had the time.

Life since going to the States had been full-on. An economics post-graduate degree at Harvard had been followed by an intense apprenticeship in the investment business. There’d been a few snide remarks when he’d made his way quickly up the ladder at De Silva & Associates, but Ben believed he’d earned his promotion to an executive position in his father’s company, along with the seven-figure salary, the sizeable bonuses, the flash car and the equally flash New York apartment. Along the way, he’d also earned the reputation for being a bit of a playboy, perhaps because his girlfriends didn’t last all that long. Invariably, after a few weeks he would grow bored with them and move on. Never once had he fallen in love, making him wonder if he ever would.

It was a surprise to Ben that his relationship with Amber had lasted as long as it had—eight months—possibly because he didn’t see all that much of her. He was working very long hours. He’d never thought himself in love with her. She was, however, attractive, amusing and very easy to be with, never fussing when he was late for a date or when he had to opt out at the last minute. Never acting in that clinging, possessive way which he hated.

She’d also never once said she loved him in all those months, so her recent declaration had come out of the blue.

Ben had been startled at first, then flattered, then tempted by her proposal, possibly because of his father’s mantras, on marriage.

‘Rich men should always marry rich girls,’ he’d said more than once, along with, ‘Rich men must marry with their heads. Never their hearts.’

Sensible advice. But it was no use. Ben knew, deep down in his heart, that marriage to a girl he didn’t love would be settling for less than he’d always wanted. A lot less.

So his answer had to be no.

Ben considered ringing Amber and telling her so immediately, but there was something cowardly about breaking up over the phone or, God forbid, by text message. She’d already asked him not to call or text her whilst he was away, perhaps hoping that he would miss her more that way.

Frankly, just the opposite had happened. Without phone calls and text messages, the connection between them had been broken. Now that he’d made his final decision, Ben felt not one ounce of regret. Just relief.

When his phone suddenly vibrated in his pocket, Ben hoped like hell it wasn’t Amber. But it wasn’t her, the caller ID revealing it was his father. Ben frowned as he lifted the phone to his ear. It wasn’t like his father to call him unless there was a business problem. Morgan De Silva wasn’t into social chit-chat.

‘Hi, Dad,’ Ben said. ‘What’s up?’

‘Sorry to bother you, son, but I was thinking about you tonight and decided to give you a call.’

Ben could not have been more taken aback.

‘That’s great, Dad, but shouldn’t you be asleep? It must be the middle of the night over there.’

‘It’s not that late. Besides, you know I never sleep much. What time is it where you are?’

‘Mid-afternoon.’

‘What day?’

‘Thursday.’

‘Ah. Right. So you’ll be off to Andy’s wedding in a couple of days.’

‘I’m actually driving up to his place tomorrow.’ For a split second Ben contemplated telling his father about the accident and his fiasco about finding a hire car, but decided not to. Why worry him unnecessarily?

‘Nice boy, Andy.’

His father had met Andy when Ben had brought him to America for a holiday. They’d gone skiing with Morgan and had a great time.

‘So, when do you think you’ll be back in New York?’ his father asked.

‘Probably not till the end of next week. Mum’s away on a cruise and doesn’t get back till next Monday. I’d like to spend a day or two with her before I fly home.’

‘Of course. Why don’t you stay a little longer? Have a decent holiday? You deserve it. You’ve been working way too hard.’

Ben stared out at the beach and the ocean beyond. In truth, it had been a couple of years since he’d had more than a long weekend off, his mother recently having accused him of becoming a workaholic, just like his father.

‘I might do that,’ he said. ‘Thanks, Dad.’

‘My pleasure. You’re a good boy. Give my regards to your mother,’ his father said abruptly, then hung up.

Ben stared down at his phone, wondering what in the hell that had been all about.


CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_59efed06-1603-5eb7-a75a-8454e0465228)

JESS WAS GLAD to get out of the house the following morning before her parents were up and about. Her mother had started going on and on the night before about her taking a risk, driving some stranger all the way out to Mudgee and back.

‘He might be a serial killer for all you know,’ she’d said at one stage.

She hadn’t stopped with the doomsday scenarios till Jess had told her everything she knew about Mr Benjamin De Silva, including his being the son of a super-rich American businessman whose company had taken over several Australian firms, including Fab Fashions.

‘He’s not a serial killer, Mum,’ she’d informed her mother firmly. ‘Just a man with more money than sense.’

To Jess’s surprise, her sometimes pessimistic father had taken her side in the argument.

‘Jess knows how to look after herself, Ruth,’ he’d said. ‘She’ll be fine. Just give us a call when you get there, love, and put your mother’s mind at rest. Okay?’

She’d happily agreed to do so, but hadn’t trusted her mum not to start up again this morning, so she’d packed an overnight bag the night before, then risen early, giving her time to take some extra care getting ready. Under the circumstances, she didn’t want to look like a dag. Or a chauffeur, for that matter—so she’d already dismissed the idea of wearing her usual driving uniform of black trousers with a white shirt which had Murphy’s Hire Car emblazoned on the breast pocket.

She did wear black trousers. Rather swish, stretchy ones which tapered in at the ankles and made the most of her long legs, combining them with a V-necked white T-shirt topped with a floral jacket which she’d made herself. Jess was an excellent dressmaker, having been taught how to sew by her gran. She dithered a bit over how much make-up to wear, opting in the end to play it conservative, using just a bit of lip gloss and a light brushing of mascara. Her clear olive skin did not really need foundation, anyway. She then scooped her thick, black hair back up into a ponytail, wrapping a red scrunchie around it which matched the red flowers in the jacket. Finally, she pulled on a pair of very comfy black pumps before bolting out of the house by six-thirty, a good twenty minutes before she needed to leave.

The drive from Glenning Valley to Blue Bay would take fifteen minutes at most. Probably less at this time of day. She filled in some time having breakfast at a local burger bar, after which she drove leisurely towards the address she’d been given. Jess knew the area well. Whilst there were still lots of very ordinary weekenders around, any property on the beach front was worth heaps. Most of the older buildings which had once graced the shoreline had been torn down, replaced by million-dollar units and multi-million-dollar homes. Over the last decade, Blue Bay had become one of the places to live on the coast.

It wasn’t till she turned off the Entrance Road into the long street which led down to Blue Bay that Jess felt the first inkling of nerves. Though normally a confident and rather outspoken girl, she suddenly realised it wasn’t going to be easy bringing up the subject of Fab Fashions with the man responsible for taking over the company. If truth be told, he would probably tell her to mind her own business. He also wouldn’t be pleased with the fact that she’d looked him up on the Internet.

Maybe she should forget about the probably futile idea of trying to save Fab Fashions and just do what Mr De Silva had hired her to do—drive him out to Mudgee and back. Alternatively, maybe she would wait and see what kind of man he was; if he was the kind to listen or not. He hadn’t sounded too bad over the phone. Maybe a little frustrated, which was understandable, considering he’d just had a car accident and all his plans had gone awry. And he had asked her to call him Ben, which was rather nice of him. She almost felt guilty now that she hadn’t asked him to call her Jess in return.

Jess wondered how old he was. Probably about forty, she guessed. If he looked anything like his father—there’d been a photo of Morgan De Silva on the Net—then he’d be short, with a receding hairline and a flabby body from a sedentary lifestyle and too many long business lunches.

‘Oh, dear,’ she sighed.

Jess was no longer looking forward to today in any way, shape or form.

After letting out the breath she’d been unconsciously holding, she started scanning the numbers on the post boxes, soon realising that the number she was looking for would be on the left and right down the end of the street. Truly, what else had she expected? The son of a billionaire wouldn’t be staying anywhere but the best.

The sun was just rising as she approached a block of apartments which carried the right number and which, yes, of course, overlooked the beach. A man was already standing on the pavement outside the building. Beside him sat a black travel case on wheels, across which was draped a plastic zip-up suit bag.

Jess tried not to stare as she pulled into the kerb beside him. But it was difficult not to.

He wasn’t short with a receding hairline and flabby body. Hell, no. He was anything but. He was very tall and slim, with broad shoulders and the kind of well-chiselled face you saw on male models in magazines advertising aftershave or expensive watches. High cheekbones, a strong, straight nose and a square jawline. His hair was a light sandy colour, cut short at the sides and slightly longer on top, brushed straight back from that oh, so handsome face. His skin was lightly tanned, his eyes blue and beautiful. His clothes were more what she’d been expecting. Sort of. Dark-grey trousers and a long-sleeved blue business shirt which was open at the neck and which had a pair of sunglasses tucked into the breast pocket.

Jess dragged her eyes away from him, switched off the engine, then climbed out of the car, her thoughts somewhat scattered. Who would have imagined he would be so good-looking? Or so young? He couldn’t be more than early thirties. Maybe even younger.

‘Mr De Silva, I presume?’ she asked as she stepped up onto the pavement less than a metre from him. Up close, he was even more attractive, if that were possible.

‘You can’t possibly be Miss Murphy,’ he returned, the hint of a wry smile teasing one corner of his nicely shaped mouth.

She bristled at his comment. ‘I don’t see why not.’

He shook his head as he looked her up and down. ‘You’re not what I was expecting.’

‘Oh?’ she returned stiffly. ‘And what were you expecting?’

‘Someone a little older and a little less…er…attractive.’

Jess thanked the Lord she wasn’t a blusher. For if she had been she might have gone bright red under the openly admiring gaze of those beautiful blue eyes.

‘That’s nice of you to say so, Mr De Silva. I think,’ she added, wondering if she’d sounded old and ugly on the phone.

‘I told you to call me Ben,’ he said, and smiled at her, a full hundred-watt smile which showed perfect American teeth and a charm which was just as dazzling.

Oh my, Jess thought, trying not to be too dazzled.

Not without much success, given she just stood there staring at him whilst her heartbeat did the tango and she forgot all about Fab Fashions.

‘Perhaps we should get going,’ he said at last.

Jess gave herself a mental shake. It wasn’t like her to go ga-ga over a man, even one as impressive as this.

‘Yes. Yes, of course,’ she said, still far too breathlessly for her liking. ‘Do you need help with your bags?’ she added, recalling what he’d said about having a banged-up right shoulder.

‘I can manage,’ he returned. ‘Just open up the back for me.’

He managed very well. Managed the passenger door without any help either.

By the time she climbed into the driving seat and belted up, Jess had taken control of her wildly dancing heartbeat, having told herself firmly to get a grip and stop acting like some awestruck schoolgirl. She was twenty-five years old, for pity’s sake!

Taking a deep breath, she reached for her sunglasses and put them on.

‘Would you mind if I called you Jessica instead of Miss Murphy?’ he said before she could even start the engine.

Jess winced. She hated being called Jessica. ‘I’d rather you call me Jess,’ she replied, and found herself throwing a small smile his way.

‘Only if you promise to call me Ben,’ he insisted as he snapped his seat belt into place.

Jess suspected that women—no, people in general—rarely said no to Ben De Silva. His combination of looks and charm were both seductive and quite corrupting. Already she wanted to please him. Yet she wasn’t, by nature, a people pleaser. Jess had always had a mind of her own and a mouth to match. Suddenly, however, all she wanted to do was smile, nod and agree with everything Ben said. Already he was Ben in her head.

‘Okay. Ready, Ben?’ she said as she reached for the ignition and glanced over at him again.

Dear heaven but he was gorgeous! He smelt gorgeous too. She did like men who wore nice aftershave.

‘As soon as I put these on,’ he replied, pulling his own sunglasses out of his pocket.

They were very expensive looking. God, now he looked like a movie star, a very sexy movie star, the kind a girl fantasised over in the privacy of her bedroom.

Jess’s susceptibility to this man was beginning to annoy her. Next thing she’d know, she’d start flirting with him. Which wasn’t like her at all! Gritting her teeth, she checked her rear and side mirrors, executed a perfect three-point turn, then accelerated up the street. Neither of them said anything for a full minute or two, Ben being the first to speak.

‘I must thank you again, Jess, for doing this for me.’

‘You don’t have to thank me. You’re paying for the privilege.’

‘Still, I can see you probably had to put yourself out to do this. I would imagine a girl as attractive as yourself would have better things to do over the weekend than work.’

‘No, not really.’

‘You didn’t have to break any dates?’

‘Not this weekend.’

‘That surprises me. I would have thought you’d have a boyfriend.’

‘I did,’ she bit out. ‘Till recently.’

‘What happened?’

She shrugged. ‘We were going to go on a road trip together around Australia. That’s why I bought this four-wheel drive. Anyway, at the last moment he decided he didn’t want to do that. Instead, he took off backpacking around the world with a mate.’

Jess felt, rather than saw, Ben’s startled look. When driving a client, she rarely took her eyes off the road.

‘He didn’t ask you to go with him?’ he quizzed, his shocked tone soothing Jess’s still lingering hurt over Colin’s defection.

‘No. He did ask me to wait for him, though.’

‘I hope you said no.’

She laughed as she recalled her quite volatile reaction. ‘I said a little more than just no.’

‘Good for you.’

‘Perhaps. Colin said I have a sharp tongue.’

‘Really? I find that hard to believe.’

Was he mocking her?

A quick glance showed a perfectly straight face. A perfectly straight, very handsome face. Jess decided he was just making conversation, which was better than sitting there saying nothing all the way to Mudgee.

‘He also said I was bossy and controlling.’

‘No!’

He was mocking her. But not unkindly.

She sighed. ‘I suppose I am a bit controlling. But I just like things to be organised. And to be done properly.’

‘I’m somewhat of a perfectionist myself,’ Ben said. ‘Ah, there’s Westfield’s. Not far to the motorway now.’

Jess frowned. ‘How come you know Westfield’s? I thought this was your first visit to Australia.’

‘Not at all,’ he said. ‘I’ve spent a lot of time here. Well, in New South Wales, at least. My parents are divorced, you see. You already know my father’s American, but my mother’s Australian. She owns the apartment in Blue Bay. I actually went to boarding school in Sydney. That’s where I met Andy—he’s the one who’s getting married.’

‘Goodness!’ she exclaimed. ‘I had no idea.’

‘Well, why would you?’ he said, sounding puzzled.

Jess suppressed a groan. As the saying went, oh, what a tangled web we weave when first we practise to deceive.

It actually went against Jess’s grain to be less than honest with people. But her intentions had been good. Hopefully, Ben wouldn’t be too annoyed with her if she told him the truth. She really didn’t want to drive all the way to Mudgee watching what she said and didn’t say. And, yes, she supposed she did still hope to discuss the future of Fab Fashions with him. He seemed very approachable and a lot smarter than she’d given him credit for. But that didn’t make the act of confessing any easier.

‘Oh gosh, this is just so awkward. I suppose I simply have to tell you now. I…I just hope you won’t be too annoyed.’


CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_4d75f777-0475-593f-ad4c-6c5b98ff347d)

BEN HAD NO IDEA what she was talking about. ‘Tell me what?’ he asked.

‘The thing is, Ben…’ she started, obviously with great reluctance.

‘Yes?’ he prompted when she didn’t go on.

She pulled a face. ‘I just hope you understand.’

‘Understand what?’ he demanded to know.

‘Just wait, will you, till we’re safely on the motorway?’

Jess turned right onto the ramp which took them down to the highway, heading north.

‘I have a confession to make,’ she said at last, then hesitated again.

‘Go on,’ Ben said with more patience than he was feeling.

‘The thing is… I knew who you were yesterday on the phone once you said you were Benjamin De Silva.’

Ben tried to assimilate what Jess was actually saying, but failed.

‘What exactly do you mean by who I was?’

‘I mean, I knew you worked for De Silva & Associates and that you were Morgan De Silva’s son.’

Ben could not have been more taken aback.

‘And how come you knew that?’ he said, sounding more confused than angry. ‘I wouldn’t have thought my father was all that well known in Australia. He keeps a low public profile. Same with myself.’

Her sigh was heavy. ‘You might understand better if I tell you I used to have a part-time job at a Fab Fashions boutique in Westfield’s till last weekend, when the manager had to let me go.’

‘Ah,’ Ben said, light dawning. Though what she was doing working part-time in a fashion boutique at all was a mystery. She’d said she was a mechanic, hadn’t she? And an advanced driving instructor.

There was no doubt that Jess was a surprising girl in more ways than one. You could have knocked him over with a feather when she’d turned up, looking nothing like the middle-aged battle-axe he’d been envisaging. Not only was she young—surely no more than mid-to late-twenties—she was also hot looking. Normally he went for blondes, not brunettes. But he found Jess quite delicious with her full lips, flashing dark eyes and seriously great legs. She also had an engaging and rather amusing personality. That boyfriend had been a fool, letting her go.

‘Yes, ah…’ Jess said somewhat sheepishly. ‘I asked Helen…she’s the manager…what the problem was and she told me about this American company taking over Fab Fashions and threatening them with closure if they didn’t make a profit before the end of the year. I was so mad I found out what your name was and looked you up on the Internet. Not that I found out much about you,’ she added hastily. ‘Mostly it was about your father and the company he founded. Anyway, when an American chap rang yesterday and told me his name was Benjamin De Silva, I nearly fell off my chair.’

Ben didn’t doubt it.

‘So why on earth did you agree to drive me anywhere?’ he asked her. ‘I would have thought you would have told me to drop dead.’

‘Good heavens, no. What would have been the point of that? Look, the truth is that I had this crazy idea that during our long drive out to Mudgee I could somehow bring Fab Fashions into the conversation. I imagined you’d be surprised at the coincidence that I’d once worked for them but that you wouldn’t be suspicious. I’d then tell you what I thought could be done to make Fab Fashions more profitable. I know that sounds terribly arrogant of me but I do know fashion. It’s a lifelong passion with me. My grandmother was a professional seamstress and she taught me everything she knew. I’ve also done a design course online and I make a lot of my own clothes.’

‘I see,’ Ben said slowly. She was serious, he realised, but truly there was probably no saving Fab Fashions. Retail was in a terrible shape worldwide. He’d only given them till the end of the year because he hadn’t wanted to play Scrooge. His father had wanted him to shut them down straight away, having bought them only because it came as a package deal along with other companies which had much better prospects and assets.

But Ben wasn’t about to tell Jess that. Not yet, anyway.

‘So why did you look so surprised when we first met today?’ he asked, trying to get the full picture.

Jess frowned.

‘You did stare at me, Jess,’ he went on when she didn’t say anything.

‘Yes… Yes, I did, didn’t I?’ she said, seeming a little flustered. ‘The thing is…there was a photo of your father on the Internet and…well…you don’t look much like him, do you?’

Ben had to smile. She really didn’t have a tactful bone in her body. Or maybe he meant artful. Yes, that was it. Jess was not, by nature, a deceiver. She was open and honest. He suddenly wished that something could be done with Fab Fashions, just to please her.

‘No,’ he agreed. ‘I take after my mother.’

‘She must be very beautiful.’

Ben suppressed another smile with difficulty. Lord, but she was quite enchanting. And totally ingenuous in her honesty. She wasn’t trying to flatter him, or flirt with him. Which was a change. It was years since Ben had encountered a girl who did neither in his company.

‘Mum was very beautiful when my father married her,’ he said. ‘She still is, despite being over sixty. She was quite a famous model in her time. But that came to an end when she married Dad. After their divorce, she came back to Sydney and started up a modelling agency. Did very well too. Sold it for heaps a couple of years back. But perhaps you already knew all that, did you? From the Internet?’

‘Heavens, no. The only personal information was that your father was divorced with one son, Benjamin. The article was all about business. It didn’t say a word about your mother.’

Ben imagined that was his father’s doing. He was a powerful man and still very bitter about the divorce. He rarely spoke of his ex-wife, which made his parting words on the phone last night extremely surprising.

Give my regards to your mother…

Odd, that.

‘Ben, I’m really very sorry for prying into your life like that,’ Jess suddenly blurted out, perhaps interpreting his thoughtful silence for annoyance. ‘I realised as soon as I met you that I shouldn’t have done it. But I didn’t mean any harm. Truly.’

‘It’s all right, Jess,’ he said reassuringly. ‘I haven’t taken offence. I was just thinking about Fab Fashions,’ he invented. ‘And wondering what we could do about it. Together.’

‘Oh,’ she said, and fairly beamed over at him, her smile lighting up her face in a way which went beyond beauty.

It was a force of nature, that smile. He felt it deep down in his gut. Very deep down.

His flesh leapt and he thought, Uh-oh. This is not what I need right now.

And then he thought…why not? He’d finished with Amber. What was to stop him from exploring this attraction further?

Ben almost laughed. Because this wasn’t just attraction he was suddenly feeling down south of the border. This was lust, an emotion he was not unfamiliar with. But this time it felt stronger. Much stronger.

Impossible to ignore.

Impossible not to pursue.

Though not too seriously. He’d be going back to America soon. All he could fit in was a short fling.

His conscience pricked him. Jess didn’t come across as the kind of girl who indulged in short flings. Though, maybe he was wrong. Maybe she’d be only too willing to go along with whatever he wanted. After all, he was the son of a billionaire, wasn’t he? That made him super-attractive to women. On top of that, she already thought him very beautiful.

‘You’d honestly listen to what I have to say about Fab Fashions?’ she asked him eagerly.

‘I’d be mad not to,’ he replied, since this would give him a viable excuse to spend more time with her whilst he was in Australia. ‘You’re obviously a clever girl, Jess, with lots of smarts.’

‘I’m not all that smart,’ she said with delightful self-deprecation.

‘I don’t believe that.’

‘Look, there’s smart and there’s smart. School smart, I wasn’t. But I’ve always been good with my hands.’

Ben wished she hadn’t said that, his eyes drifting over to where her hands were wrapped around the steering wheel. Hell, but he wanted those hands wrapped around him. Caressing him, stroking him, teasing him, whilst she did delicious things with her mouth. Such thoughts sent hot blood roaring through his veins, giving him an instant and quite painful erection.

Ben gritted his teeth as he tried to will his aroused body back into line. He was not a man who liked tipping out of control, even sexually. Especially sexually. Ben liked to be the boss in the bedroom, or wherever it was he chose to have sex. He enjoyed having total control of the action, along with his partner, which meant he had to have total control over himself, something which he’d practised and perfected over the years.

‘Is that why you became a mechanic?’ he asked, pleased with how normal he sounded despite his wayward flesh continuing to defy him.

Her shrug showed surprising indifference to her choice of career. ‘Before Dad started up his hire car business, he owned a garage. Not up here. Down in Sydney. Anyway, all my brothers became mechanics and I just followed suit.’

‘So when did you move up to the Central Coast?’

‘A good few years back now,’ she replied. ‘I’d just finished my apprenticeship. I know I had my twenty-first birthday party up here so I must have been nineteen or twenty. I’m not sure of the exact year. Why?’

‘Just making conversation, Jess,’ he said, searching his mind for more safe topics. He could not believe that he still had an erection. ‘You’re not using your GPS, I see. So I guess you know the way to Mudgee.’

‘It’s pretty straightforward. We stay on the motorway till we reach the New England Highway, heading for Brisbane. But we turn off onto the Golden Highway just before Singleton. Then we don’t get off that road till the turn-off to Mudgee. Easy peasy.’

‘You sound like you’ve been this way a dozen times before.’

‘I’ve driven to Brisbane via the New England Highway once or twice but I’ve never been along the Golden Highway before. Or to Mudgee, for that matter. I checked it up last night on the Internet.’

‘I’ve never been this way before either,’ he admitted.

Her glance carried curiosity. ‘You’ve never been to your best friend’s place before?’

‘Yes, of course I have. Several times. But you take a different route when you’re driving from Sydney.’

‘Oh yes, of course. I didn’t think of that. You said you went to boarding school in Sydney, is that right?’

‘Yes. Kings College. It’s near Parramatta. Do you know it?’


CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_90888d28-f808-516a-a58c-c27cd931b6e5)

A MOMENTARY FLASH of pique had Jess’s hands tightening around the steering wheel. Just because she’d said she wasn’t school smart didn’t mean she was ignorant. Of course she knew of Kings College. It was one of the best private schools in Sydney. Despite it being located in the western suburbs, it was a far cry from the humble high school she’d gone to only a few miles away.

‘Yes. I know it,’ she said, thinking how way out of her league this man was. ‘It’s a very good school.’

‘That’s where I met Andy.’

‘Your best friend?’

‘Yes. We went on to study law together at Sydney Uni as well.’

Oh, Lord. Now he’d studied law at Sydney University, another prestigious establishment. Jess knew what it took to get into law. Which showed Ben was very school smart. But then, she’d guessed that already.

What next? she wondered. He probably wintered in the ski fields of Austria every year. And took his girlfriend to Paris for romantic weekends.

This last thought gave her a real jolt. Jess hadn’t thought of Ben as having a girlfriend, which was very stupid of her. Of course he must have, a man like him. Not a wife, though. When she’d asked him for a contact name and number yesterday he hadn’t mentioned a wife.

A fiancée was still on the cards, however.

‘And now your best friend is getting married,’ she said, trying to make her voice cool and conversational, not like she was dying of curiosity. ‘Are you married, Ben?’ she asked.

‘No,’ he said.

‘Engaged?’

‘No.’

She’d gone too far now to stop. ‘You must have a girlfriend back home.’

‘Not any more. I did have a girlfriend. But, like yours, that relationship has now gone by the board.’

‘She dumped you?’ Jess said with total disbelief in her voice.

‘Not exactly…’

‘Sorry. I’m prying again.’

‘I don’t mind,’ he said. ‘I enjoy talking to you. Actually, I’m the one who decided to call it quits. I just haven’t had the opportunity to tell Amber yet. I only decided last night.’

Amber, Jess thought with a curl of her top lip. A typical name for the type of girl he would date. She sounded beautiful. And rich. Jess hated her, till she remembered Ben was breaking up with her. Since that was the case, she could afford to be less bitchy. But she was still curious.

‘What went wrong?’

‘She wanted marriage and I didn’t.’

‘I see,’ she said. What was it with men these days that they shied away from commitment?

When Jess found herself surrendering to a sinking feeling, she decided a change of subject was called for. She thought of returning to the problems with Fab Fashions but for some strange reason her enthusiasm for that project had lost some of its appeal. It was probably a waste of time, anyway. So she turned to that old favourite to fill awkward moments in a conversation. The weather.

‘I’m so glad it’s a nice sunny day,’ she said with false brightness. ‘There’s nothing I hate more than driving in the rain. Though the recent rain was greatly appreciated. We had a terribly dry winter. Now everything’s lovely and green.’

Ben turned his head to gaze at the countryside. ‘It does look good. I can’t say the same for this road, though. It’s deplorable for a main highway. All cracked and patched up.’

‘That’s because it’s built over the top of coal mines,’ Jess explained. ‘It suffers from subsidence. Still, that’s Australia for you. We’re notorious for our dreadful roads.’

‘That’s because the country is too big for your population. Not enough taxes for proper infrastructure.’

‘Not enough taxes!’ Jess exclaimed, putting aside her uncharacteristic desire to please and giving vent to her usual outspokenness. ‘We’re one of the highest taxed countries in the world!’

‘Not quite. Australia’s only number ten. Most European countries pay higher taxes.’

‘Not America, though,’ Jess argued. ‘People can become rich in America. It’s hard to become rich in Australia unless you’re a crook or a drug dealer. Though, come to think of it, bankers are doing pretty well at the moment,’ she added a touch tartly. ‘My dad works his bum off and still only makes a living. Mum and Dad haven’t had a decent holiday in years.’ She didn’t call five days in Bali last year a decent holiday.

‘That’s a shame. Everyone must have holidays these days or stress will get you in the end.’

‘That’s what I keep telling them.’

‘How old are they?’

‘Dad’s sixty-three. Mum’s fifty-nine.’

‘Close to retirement age, then.’

‘Dad says he’d rather die than retire.’

‘My dad says the same thing,’ Ben said. ‘He loves working.’

Loves making money, you mean, Jess thought but didn’t say.

‘You mentioned brothers earlier,’ Ben said. ‘How many do you have?’

‘What? Oh…er…three.’

‘I always wanted a brother. So, Jess, tell me a bit about these brothers of yours.’

Jess shrugged. There seemed no point not telling him about her family. They had to talk about something, she supposed.

‘Connor’s the oldest,’ she said. ‘He’s thirty-six. Married with two boys. Then there’s Troy. He’s thirty-four and married too, with twin girls. They’re eight,’ she added, smiling as she thought of Amy and Emily, who were the sweetest girls. ‘Then there’s Peter, who’s closest to me at twenty-seven. He’s not long married and his wife is expecting a bub early next year.’

‘No sisters?’

‘No, no sisters.’

‘So you’re the baby of the family.’

‘Not a spoilt one, I can assure you,’ she said, though this was a lie. Her brothers had indulged her shamelessly. And had been very protective of her when the boys had started hanging around. They were the reason she hadn’t had a boyfriend till she’d left school. Because they kept frightening them off. Peter, especially. Jess had been a virgin till she was close to twenty.

‘I suppose you want kids as well. I saw you smiling when you talked about the twin girls.’

‘I’d love at least two children,’ Jess admitted. ‘But getting married and having children is not high on my list of wants right now. I’m only twenty-five. First, I’d like to travel all around Australia. That’s why I bought this little darling,’ she added, tapping the steering wheel. ‘Because it can cope with whatever terrible roads Australia can throw at me.

‘Oh look, there’s the turn-off to the Hunter Valley vineyards,’ she pointed out. ‘If you’re staying up on the Central Coast for a while after you get back from your friend’s wedding, then that’s one of the places you should visit. It’s lovely at this time of the year. Lots of great places to stay and terrific wine to taste. You can even go up in a balloon. Colin and I did that not long ago and it was fantastic.’

‘Had you been going out with this Colin fellow for long?’

‘Just over a year.’

‘And you were serious about him?’

‘Serious enough,’ she admitted. ‘To be honest, I thought I was in love with him. But I can see now that I wasn’t.’ How could she have been? Colin had been gone from her life less than a month and she already had the hots for another man.

‘For what it’s worth, Jess,’ that other man said, ‘I think this Colin was a total idiot, leaving a girl like you behind.’

Jess could not help glancing over at Ben. His head turned her way and their eyes would have met if they hadn’t both been wearing sunglasses. Even so, something zapped between them like a charge of electricity, taking Jess’s breath away. And suddenly she knew, as surely as she knew that she should get her eyes back on the road ahead quick smart, that Ben fancied her as much as she fancied him. And, whilst the realisation of his sexual interest was exciting and flattering, it also terrified the life out of her.


CHAPTER SIX (#ulink_bb271d09-df10-5326-8e09-8a3807c87832)

BEN COULD HARDLY CONTAIN the burst of triumph he experienced when he heard her sharply indrawn breath, then watched her reef her eyes back on the road like the hounds of hell were after her.

Perhaps they were, he thought darkly. Be damned with his conscience. Be damned with common sense! He had to have this girl. And soon.

* * *

Jess was annoyed with herself for feeling flattered by Ben’s interest. Why shouldn’t he fancy her? she reasoned with more of her usual self-confidence. She was an attractive girl, with a nice face and figure. And, yes, super legs. Okay, so she probably wasn’t a patch on this Amber female, but she was over in New York and Jess was right here. On top of that, he didn’t want Amber. No, no, be honest here, Jess, it wasn’t Amber he didn’t want, just marriage. No doubt he would have continued their sexual relationship if she hadn’t put the hard word on him. The truth was he was out here in Australia, probably feeling a bit lonely, and suddenly there she was, with no boyfriend and availability written all over her stupid face!

Jess was dragged out of her frustrating train of thought by the sudden end of the motorway. She hadn’t even seen the signs to slow down. Rolling her eyes at herself, she made a careful left at the roundabout onto the New England Highway and set sail for the Golden Highway. Thankfully, Ben had fallen silent. No doubt he was working out when to make a pass whilst she was working out how she was going to act when that happened.

As Jess drove on silently, she wondered why she couldn’t be like other girls—the ones who could sleep with guys on a first date, or even on meeting them for the first time at a pub, or club, or disco or whatever. She could never do that. She found the idea repulsive. And dangerous. She had to get to know the guy first. And like him. Had to see that he liked her too. Liked her enough to wait for her. Till she felt ready to go all the way.

She’d made Colin wait for weeks. Jess suspected Ben wouldn’t wait weeks for her.

Not that she wanted him to. Lord, what was happening to her here? This wasn’t like her at all! But Ben wasn’t like any man she’d ever met before. It wasn’t just a question of his movie-star looks, although they were hard to ignore. There was something else. A cloak of confidence which he wore without effort and which she found incredibly attractive. And very sexy. He would be a fantastic lover, she was sure. Very experienced. Very…knowledgeable. He would know exactly what to do and how to do it to make sure she always came.

A shiver rippled down her spine at this last thought. She didn’t always come during sex. But she would like to.

‘When are we going to make our first stop?’ Ben suddenly piped up. ‘I’ll need to have a coffee fairly soon.’

Jess suppressed a groan as she realised that she’d once again become distracted from her driving. It took an extreme effort of will to drag her overheated mind away from those corrupting thoughts and put it to the task of estimating exactly where they were, quickly realising that they couldn’t be far from the turn-off onto the Golden Highway.

‘Denman is about half an hour from here,’ she said, having studied the route and memorised all the towns and services on the way. ‘I checked it up on the Internet. It’s a small historic town down in a valley with a nice pub and a couple of cafés. If that’s too far off for you, we could drive into Singleton, but then we’d have to double back.’

‘No. No doubling back. Denman sounds fine. You wouldn’t happen to have any pain killers with you, would you? I should have taken a couple this morning but forgot.’

Jess only then remembered his bad shoulder. ‘There’s some in the glove box,’ she said. ‘And a bottle of water in your door, if you want to take the tablets straight away.’

‘Thanks.’

‘How bad is your shoulder?’ she asked, happy to have something safe to talk about.

‘It’s a bit stiff and sore this morning, but honestly it’s fine. I could have driven, but the doctor at the hospital said no. Not because of the shoulder—I had a mild concussion as well.’

‘Best you didn’t drive, then.’

‘I’m glad I couldn’t—I wouldn’t have met you.’

Jess could not stop her heart swelling with pleasure. Yet she knew what he was about. She’d seen how her brothers had acted with girls whose pants they wanted to get into. She’d watched them lay the compliments on thick and fast. And she’d watched those silly girls lap them up, then give her brothers what they wanted in no time at all.

Maybe that was why she’d acted differently with boys who came onto her. Or she had, till this handsome devil had come along.

He’d thrown a spanner in her works all right. Jess could not believe she was thinking of having a one-night stand with him. Or that just the thought of it made her heart race faster than a Formula One car on the starting blocks.


CHAPTER SEVEN (#ulink_a8784e2d-ab20-509c-ab03-0bee68ae37f5)

‘WHAT A LOVELY little town this is,’ Ben said.

They had stopped and were sitting at a table on the veranda of an old farmhouse which had been converted into a café, sipping their just-delivered coffee and looking out onto a quite lovely garden full of flowering shrubs. Ben knew nothing about gardening and plants but he knew what he liked. It was the same way with art. He never bought art on the so-called reputation of the artist. He only bought what he liked.

He glanced over the table at Jess and thought how much he liked her too. Maybe that was why his desire for her was so strong. During the last half-hour of the drive, he’d been thinking how he could be alone with her this weekend in a place suitable for seduction. And he’d finally come up with a plan which would work, provided she went along with the idea.

‘So, Jess,’ he said. ‘I think it’s about time you started telling me what’s wrong with Fab Fashions. I didn’t want to talk business during the drive; I just wanted to drink in the wonderful scenery. But now that we’ve stopped…’

She put down her cup, then looked up at him with those big brown eyes of hers, the kind of eyes a man could drown in. He almost wished she’d put her sunglasses back on. But she’d left them hooked over the sun visor in the four-wheel drive. Lord, but they were expressive eyes. He could only hope that his own didn’t give away his innermost thoughts, since he’d removed his sunglasses a couple of minutes earlier and popped them back into his shirt pocket.

‘You honestly want to hear my ideas?’ she said, sounding somewhat sceptical.

Not really, he conceded privately. They were a waste of time. But it was part of his plan.

‘But of course,’ he said.

Her face lit up and, yes, so did her eyes. Guilt threatened, but he pushed it firmly aside. Guilt, Ben conceded, was no match for lust.

‘Okay. Well, for starters there’s its name. “Fab Fashions” implies it caters for the young where in fact most of the stock in Fab Fashions is targeted towards the more mature woman. Either change the name or change the stock. I would suggest change the name; there are enough clothes around for teenagers.

‘Then you should change your buyers. Get people in who aren’t just buying to price. Someone who knows what’s in fashion and what is comfortable to wear. The more mature lady wants comfort as well as style. Also, it might be a good idea to stock more of the most common sizes instead of just buying across the board. Most women over forty are not size eight! And of course you should have an online store too. To fall behind the times is stupid.’

Ben was surprised and impressed. All her suggestions made sense. They might even work. ‘You really know your stuff, don’t you?’

‘I told you…fashion is a genuine passion with me. On top of that, I hate to think of all those people losing their jobs. If every owner shut their stores during a down-turn in the economy, the country would go to the wall. Surely it’s not always about profit, is it, Ben? I mean…everyone has to take the bad times with the good, especially big companies like yours.’

‘It’s not always quite as simple as that, Jess.’

She bristled. ‘I knew you’d say that.’

‘I didn’t say I wasn’t prepared to do what you suggested. What say we have a think over the weekend and see if we can find a fab new name which would lend itself to a successful marketing campaign?’

Jess’s frown was instant. ‘But we don’t have any spare time this weekend. You have to go to a stag party tonight and the wedding’s tomorrow. I suppose we could talk on the drive home.’

‘We could,’ he said. ‘But when I’m excited about something, I like to get straight to it,’ he added with considerable irony and another tweak to his conscience. ‘How about I give Andy a ring and organise for you to stay at the winery over the weekend instead of some motel in Mudgee? They have a small cottage on the property away from the main house which is very comfy. We could stay there together.’

‘Together!’

‘There’s two bedrooms, Jess. Of course, there won’t be much time for talking tonight, since I’ll be at Andy’s bachelor party. But the wedding’s not till four the next afternoon. That should give us plenty of time to talk. And, speaking of the wedding, I’m sure I could wangle you an invitation.’ If she didn’t have a suitable dress, he would take her into Mudgee and buy her one.

Wariness warred with temptation in her eyes. ‘Won’t Andy think it odd, you asking him to invite a virtual stranger to his wedding?’

‘But you’re not a stranger, Jess. I already know more about you than most of my past girlfriends. On top of that, we’re now business colleagues. I’ll tell Andy you’re a marketing consultant I’ve hired to help me with Fab Fashions and who kindly offered to drive me up here after I had that unfortunate car accident. There’s no need to mention anything about you working for a hire car company, is there?’

Jess shook her head. Did he honestly think she didn’t know what he was doing? She wasn’t a fool. But there was simply no saying no to him.

‘You do like to take over, Ben, don’t you?’

His smile was both charming and sexy at the same time. ‘What can I say? People tell me I’m bossy and controlling.’

Jess laughed. He was a clever devil. But totally irresistible.





Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Получить полную версию книги.


Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/miranda-lee/taken-over-by-the-billionaire/) на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.