Книга - At the Billionaire’s Beck and Call? / High-Society Secret Baby: At the Billionaire’s Beck and Call? / High-Society Secret Baby

At the Billionaire's Beck and Call? / High-Society Secret Baby: At the Billionaire's Beck and Call? / High-Society Secret Baby
Rachel Bailey

Maxine Sullivan


At the Billionaire’s Beck and Call?Tycoon Ryder Bramson sought Macy Ashley’s hand in marriage. But his true goal was to buy her father’s company. To ensnare Macy, Ryder first offered the beautiful businesswoman a job. Yet slipping the ring on her finger proved difficult. Being a brash billionaire’s pawn wasn’t independent-minded Macy’s style. On the other hand, being the focus of this irresistible man’s passion just might win her over…High-Society Secret Baby He’d done his late brother the ultimate favour and now tycoon Dominic Roth could not declare Cassandra Roth’s child his own. So when the opportunity arose for Dominic to lay claim to both mother and child, he grasped it. Yet even as Dominic finally had Cassandra, he knew he could not reveal the truth. For the billionaire daddy dared not risk destroying his tenuous hold on happiness.










AT THE



BILLIONAIRE’S



BECK AND CALL?

RACHEL BAILEY

HIGH-SOCIETY



SECRET BABY

MAXINE SULLIVAN












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


AT THE



BILLIONAIRE’S



BECK AND CALL?

RACHEL BAILEY


“Invite me up,” Ryder said.

Macy arched one eyebrow, as if in control. “Why would I do that?”

His voice, when he found it, was rough. “There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

“I don’t think talking’s what you have in mind.”

“Sure, just because I want to talk doesn’t mean I’m not aching to touch you.” To kiss you. To taste you.

Macy’s pupils dilated as Ryder leaned over and brushed his lips across hers.

Her mouth yielded, opened to him. Drunk on her exotic scent, he lifted his hands to cup her face, finding her cheeks were like silk under his palms. He felt her hands on his shoulders, lightly, then more assured as they travelled an exquisite path to his neck before her fingers tangled in his hair. He was lost—

A flash went off, lighting up the lobby, and Ryder pulled back, blinking.

The paparazzi had found him.




ABOUT THE AUTHOR


RACHEL BAILEY developed a serious book addiction at a young age (via Peter Rabbit and Jemima Puddleduck) and has never recovered. Just how she likes it. She went on to gain degrees in psychology and social work, but is now living her dream—writing romance for a living.

She lives on a piece of paradise on Australia’s Sunshine Coast with her hero and four dogs, and loves to sit with a dog or two, overlooking the trees and reading books from her ever-growing to-be-read pile.

Rachel would love to hear from you and can be contacted through her website, www.rachelbailey.com.


This book is dedicated to Emily May, who flew in like an angel when we were in such need of her. And to Sandii, Barb, Alison L, Alison A, Annie and Mum, who all provided practical help as well as their support. And the staff of the Royal Brisbane and Women’s Hospital’s Cancer Care Services. And to everyone who sent us thoughts, cards, hugs, prayers and wishes. You all helped immeasurably.

Huge thanks to Charles Griemsman for your insight and skill. You’re a pleasure to work with and your chocolate appreciation says much about your character.

And, as always, thank you to the fabulous Jenn Schober.


Dear Reader,

Chocolate is one of my very favourite things (some might even say I have a little addiction). And I’m a firm believer in its romantic properties, be it dark or milk chocolate; crisp from the fridge or melting on the tongue; plain or enrobing butterscotch pieces.

So, as you can imagine, the idea of combining chocolate with a passionate romance was irresistible.

All I needed was the perfect hero for my chocolate story. Enter Ryder Bramson. He quickly became one of my favourite heroes with his quiet intensity, the strength of his integrity, and his utter respect for Macy. I developed quite the crush on Ryder, but unfortunately, he only had eyes for his heroine.

I hope you enjoy Ryder and Macy’s story. I recommend you read it with chocolate close to hand!

Rachel




One


He was staring at her again.

Her boss, Ryder Bramson.

Macy broke away from his unsettling gaze and refocused on the meeting at hand. And yet her eyes drifted back to the Armani-clad man with the deep frown-line between his eyebrows. She knew Ryder Bramson by name—who didn’t?—but she’d seen him in the flesh for the first time today when he and his team had arrived in Melbourne from the States to check on the progress of this special project.

At six foot three, with closely cropped brown hair and rugged features, she had a feeling he’d stand out wherever he was, yet that hardly explained the unexpected thrum of desire that had resonated through her bloodstream at her first glimpse of the man she’d been working under for the past two weeks. Or the way her breath caught slightly every time his coffee-brown eyes flicked to hers during the introductions.

Sitting tall and broad in his chair, he watched her now, his head turned at an arrogant forty-five-degree angle to the left as if no one was worthy of him looking them squarely in the face. Unbelievably disconcerting.

It wasn’t as if she’d never been stared at before—it’d been one of the few constants in her life. Before she’d escaped to Australia at eighteen, she’d lived in a golden cage of wealth, luxury and limelight. The eldest of two children of a corporate giant and a Hollywood actress, she’d always drawn more than her fair share of unwelcome interest.

But this man’s stare was different. More intense. More focused. As if he could see through every defensive layer of protection she’d ever constructed.

Macy shivered and looked back at the statistics in front of her.

Her accountant finished his address and, despite her straying thoughts, Macy smoothly took her cue. “You’ll see the figures we’ve collected on each of Chocolate Diva’s potential competitors in this report.”

She passed a pile of bound documents to her personal assistant, who stood and distributed them to the people at the table.

Ryder accepted his and, without a glance, passed it directly to his secretary. “Tell me in your own words,” he said, his voice deep and authoritative.

Not missing a beat, Macy explained her findings so far. “If we’re to expand into the Australian marketplace we’ll need to find a niche in the already well-supplied market of chocolate products. Taking our research and forecasts into consideration, we will likely recommend beginning with three of our current products, some adapted for the Australian consumer, inserted into current retail outlets. Also two brand-name shops, one each in the Sydney and Melbourne city centers.”

She’d spent two weeks living and breathing this project before today’s meeting with Ryder Bramson and his entourage. She knew the figures by heart. She and her small staff of two had put in ridiculously long days, cramming more into two weeks than even she had thought possible.

Yet, Ryder didn’t seem impressed. His strongly featured face remained impassive, unmoved … except for every so often when he pierced her with that penetrating stare.

Like now.

Her skin tightened across her entire body and her pulse kicked up a notch. But she schooled her expression to be as unresponsive as his, and continued with her explanations of the projected profit and loss analysis. She’d bet good money that stare was one of the reasons for his phenomenal success with his family’s food empire—adversaries would always be off balance and employees desperate to perform their best for him.

She, however, would conceal how his calculating appraisal affected her. She’d grown up surrounded by powerful, emotionally remote men, starting with her father. The man who’d distanced himself from her when she was only thirteen and her mother had just died. Her understanding that in his grief-stricken state he couldn’t cope with her resemblance to her mother hadn’t lessened the pain. Especially when he’d been kinder to her sister, whose looks and personality didn’t remind him so much of his dead wife.

Macy squared her shoulders. That experience had changed her, made her what she was. A strong, independent woman.

She could handle Mr. Bramson and his stare.

Glancing down at her laptop, she clicked a button and brought up a graph to show her point more clearly. It appeared on the LCD screens built into the conference table in front of the seven other people at the meeting. Six of them lowered their gazes to read.

The seventh kept his focus squarely on her, his head turned to the side at that almost insolent angle.

Macy felt a flush of nerves creep through her system—something she rarely felt in a business meeting, a place where she prided herself on being prepared and in control. Yet at this meeting, her boss barely seemed interested in the results he’d hired her to find. And when he looked at her like that, she found herself thinking more like a flesh and blood woman than a businesswoman. Her skin heated, her breathing became shallow.

No. She would not be sidetracked by biological responses to a man. Especially not now. There was no way she’d miss the chance to be Chocolate Diva’s first Australian CEO.

She met his gaze. “Is there a problem with your screen, Mr. Bramson?”

He lifted his right eyebrow—the first reaction he’d revealed since arriving in the building thirty-five minutes earlier. “I haven’t crossed the Pacific to look at graphs and reports that I could have studied from the comfort of my own office, Ms. Ashley.”

Macy nodded, ignoring the unease in her stomach. Of course he hadn’t. She flicked a switch and the screens went blank. Time for a change of direction—she was nothing if not flexible. Adaptable. Promotable.

When he’d headhunted her from her previous position—working for the corporate raider Damon Blakely, overseeing acquisitions of small companies—Ryder had made her a promise. During their phone interview, he’d said if this two-month project went well, she’d be in the running for the top job at Chocolate Diva—the high-end chocolate and candy brand—as it opened its doors in Australia. A job she wanted badly. The sort of job she’d been working toward since she graduated top of her class in her business degree. A major step toward her career goal of running a company at least the size of her father’s.

So if the boss didn’t want to be bothered reading reports, she was more than fine with that option. “We’ve prepared some samples of possible product variations for your team to try.”

He’d been examining the other staff members at the table, and now turned his head in a slow, deliberate move to look at her again, his intense physical presence seeming to reach out and touch her from across the table.

She held his gaze, unwilling to blink or show the smallest sign of intimidation. “Perhaps you and your staff would like to take the afternoon to recover from jetlag, and we’ll resume first thing in the morning with the product tastings.”

His right brow again arched, as if Ryder Bramson never needed time to recover from any experience. He probably didn’t.

Macy waited. It was his move.

Finally Ryder dipped his chin in one slow, yet precise nod. “If the product samples are ready, I’ll try them now. The U.S. team can go back to the hotel and be back by 9:00 a.m. sharp.”

The men and women in suits began assembling their papers and lifting briefcases, but Ryder’s clear, deep voice carried across their noise. “Ms. Ashley, I have a phone call to make. I’ll meet you back in here in ten minutes.”

Macy nodded then resumed gathering the reports and folders off the table in front of her and stood.

Shaun, a lean, gray-haired American from Missouri, whispered on the way out the door, “Don’t let him put you off, it’s just his way. He’s a good boss, but at home, they call him The Machine.”

Macy nodded discreetly as Shaun peeled off in another direction. That was perfectly okay with her. She liked to focus on her work, do the best job she could. Faux friendships that often arose in workplaces were nothing more than a distraction, and she’d never been the gossip-at-the-water-cooler type.

In fact, it seemed Ryder Bramson might be the ideal boss … as long as she could contain her reactions to his gaze. Even now she could feel the pulse at her throat, the remnants of a warm shiver trailing down her spine.

Definitely a bad thing.

But she’d pandered to enough imaginings about her boss in the short time since they met. It was time to stop.

Ten minutes later, Macy looked around the meeting room, making sure everything was in place. She and her assistant, Tina, had collected ingredients yesterday to give Ryder’s team a general idea of how the products could be adapted.

Tina walked in with a bowl of fruit pieces and laid it on the table. “How do you want to run this?”

Macy had planned the exercise for a group but it shouldn’t be a problem to downscale. She moved a bowl of dried lychees an inch to the left to make everything line up more squarely. “While you make up the samples and hand them to Mr. Bramson, I’ll explain the choices.”

“Sounds good,” Tina said as she turned on the chocolate fountain they’d filled with their own brand’s imported rich, dark chocolate.

Movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention, and Macy turned. She took in Ryder Bramson filling the doorway—he’d removed both the charcoal business jacket and tie, and rolled up the sleeves of his teal-blue shirt. The dark hair on his strong forearms covered tanned skin, leading down to large, square hands with long fingers. Unbidden, the image of those hands roaming her skin filled her mind, those arms wrapped around her, pulling her close. Her gaze traveled up to his face, his full bottom lip, then to his eyes, which were regarding her with a lazy appraisal of their own.

Macy swallowed. Stepped back. Put a chair between them.

Tina looked up and smiled—the picture of a professional reaction. “Ah, Mr. Bramson, we’re ready for you.”

His eyes lingered on Macy for another long moment before they flicked to her assistant. “Tina, isn’t it? Looks like you’ve done a great job here, but I won’t keep you from your work. I’m sure Ms. Ashley will be able to help me.”

Macy’s heartbeat stuttered. She glanced at Tina and saw the question in her eyes. She knew Tina was rushing to get the information on potential retail sites together, and, as Ryder was the only person coming for the tasting now, it made sense for Macy to do this alone. But with the sexual charge in the room, with the way her insides melted every time her boss looked at her, she could well do with a chaperone—

Macy stopped herself mid-thought. What was she thinking? She’d never let herself be diverted from her goals before, and she wasn’t about to start now. She closed her eyes, took a breath, then opened them and smiled at Tina. “It’s okay, I’ll be fine here.”

Tina paused a moment as if to reassure herself she really could leave, then bustled from the room.

Ryder strolled over and surveyed the food on the table before again meeting her eyes. “Where do you want me?”

She stilled, but Ryder’s strong face remained impassive, dark eyes focused on her, no sign of teasing or flirting visible. Brilliant, now she was reading double entendres into his words.

She found a polite smile and pointed to the head of the table. “There will be fine.”

Ryder took his seat and she sat in the chair to his right, in easy reach of all the ingredients, then slipped into the speech she’d been preparing in her mind. “The Diva Truffle Bar has tested well and is unique. At this stage we believe it will be able to enter the Australian market in its current form.” The bar—crushed almond and honeycomb in a chocolate truffle, coated in their own brand chocolate—would be as much a hit here as overseas if her research was correct. “We’ve run some preliminary focus groups and the feedback from the tastings was overwhelmingly positive.”

Ryder steepled his fingers under his chin, elbows on the armrests of his chair. But said nothing.

The silence threatened to stretch and leave her in the unfamiliar position of being flustered, so she took a breath and forged on with her spiel.

“The second product we’re investigating as an option is Diva Drops.” The dried fruit pieces smothered in a thick layer of their dark chocolate was their second highest selling line in the U.S., after the Truffle Bar. “Given your preference for Australian production using Australian products where possible, we might need to adapt some varieties. The cherries, cranberries and blueberries are harder to source here so we’re looking into the viability of some locally grown fruit.”

Ryder tipped his chin to the bowls in front of them. “Such as mango.”

Macy nodded and picked up a piece of dried mango on a toothpick then held it beneath the stream of the chocolate fountain. “This is dried Bowen mango. It’s in plentiful supply in the north during the summer and we have some early feelers out now with growers.”

She waited till the chocolate solidified, then handed the toothpick to him, realizing too late that there was very little room on the end of the pick for both sets of fingers. His thumb and forefinger encircled hers, capturing her hand with a gentle clasp. Time seemed to still as her body reacted to the touch, from the heat in her hand right down to a tug of desire deep in the core of her being.

She’d been thinking of his hands only minutes before and his fingers were so firm, his palm radiating such warmth on the back of her hand that she was glad she was already sitting down.

Then he moved to grasp the toothpick at the very end and she let go. He lifted it slowly and as the chocolate and mango reached higher, his tongue appeared and took the food into the dark depths of his mouth before he slid the pick out through closed lips.

With a start, Macy realized she’d been staring, so she began stabbing toothpicks in other pieces of fruit, but this time, arranged them on a plate instead of handing them to him.

Keeping her eyes glued to her task, she asked, “What did you think?”

There was no response as she put several more pieces of dried mango through the chocolate fountain then onto his plate. Her eyes drifted back to him. He was watching her.

He cleared his throat. “Delicious.”

The sensuality in his voice was unmistakable but Macy had no choice but to ignore it, despite the protestations of her body. She couldn’t afford to ruin this opportunity. That Australian CEO position had her name on it, and if she got the job, hopefully Ryder Bramson would remain her boss for a long time. She needed to keep this professional relationship working optimally.

She pushed the plate in front of him. “Other fruits in plentiful supply are pineapple, lychees and strawberries. Additionally—” she picked up the silver sugar tongs and pulled another bowl over “—we’re considering adding mint leaves to the range.” She ran the fresh mint leaf under the stream of chocolate, but before she could place it on his plate, Ryder laid his palm out for the delicacy.

She looked up, sure her boss was the type who’d want to minimize mess, but he nodded so she laid the leaf into the palm of his hand. Making sure not to watch him consume this one—staying professional—she grabbed a couple of napkins and put them beside his plate.

He wiped the chocolate remnants from his hand, then sampled an assortment of the other morsels from his plate. She could feel him watching her as he tasted and chewed, but she found things for her hands to do. Her pulse fluttered but thankfully her hands were steady.

“Very good,” his deep voice rumbled. “You said you’d be recommending three lines. The Truffle Bar, these variations of the Drops and …?”

“And the basic sampler tray. The current five fillings in the sampler should be suitable, but we’ll run more focus groups before finalizing that recommendation.”

A knock sounded at the open door and Tina walked in. “How’s it going in here? Do you need me?”

Ryder leaned back in his chair, eminently comfortable in his new domain. “No, Ms. Ashley has taken good care of me.”

Her skin heated as if the timbre of his voice, the intensity of his gaze could reach across and touch her. Caress her. Stroke her. She suspected that if he beckoned her now with the crook of a finger, she’d go without a second thought.

Thank goodness they’d be working on opposite sides of the globe most of the time. He was unexpectedly dangerous to her composure.

She flicked her hair over her shoulder, glancing around the table, at the ingredients they’d been through. “Actually, unless you want to keep tasting, I’ve pretty much shown you everything.”

Ryder nodded once and stood. “These options are good. Tina, tomorrow you can run them past Shaun and the team.” He turned back to Macy. “Ms. Ashley, I’d like to see you for a moment alone. In my office, please.”

A shiver of excitement skittered along her spine despite knowing his request was professional—of course he’d want to talk to the team leader.

She stood taller and nodded. “Certainly.”

This was her opportunity to impress him—an opportunity she’d been looking forward to. But that was before she’d met him and felt how he could effortlessly bring her body zinging to life.

Would the effect be magnified once they were closeted in an office, alone?

Ryder stood behind the polished wooden desk in his temporary office and stared down at the cruising boats negotiating the ribbon of the Yarra River.

Macy was perfect. The woman he’d crossed the globe to meet had the face of an angel, the body of a Venus and a spine of steel. He’d have married her just to buy her father’s company, but all evidence now pointed to him enjoying this marriage.

Marriage.

Macy would be his wife.

Ryder sucked in a satisfied breath.

He knew he was cut from the same cloth as his own father—he’d lost count of the number of times people had told him that—knew he was incapable of love, especially the forever kind. So a practical marriage would suit him perfectly—he’d have companionship and raise a family, sidestepping the love issue.

He heard Macy’s voice, sweet as birdsong, coming down the corridor, talking rapidly to one of her staff, and he shook aside his wandering thoughts. One step at a time, no point getting ahead of himself.

Then she stood in the doorway, looking impossibly beautiful, awaiting his instruction. Her mysterious hazel eyes assessed him and her curtain of dark brown hair draped her shoulders like satin. Long, toned legs showed below the skirt of her suit, but he tried not to look.

He indicated with a hand that she could enter and she moved to stand in front of him, seemingly so delicate. For one crazy moment, he lost himself in the desire to explore her delicateness more intimately. To step forward—

“You wanted to see me, Mr. Bramson?”

Her words brought his attention back to the meeting … and his eyes back from her legs. He swallowed hard. “Call me Ryder.”

Her only reaction was to flick her hair behind a shoulder encased in a pearl-gray business jacket. “Ryder.”

“You’ve done well with this project. I don’t have to tell you that the expansion of this arm of our company into Australia depends on your conclusions, but I see it’s in good hands from the work you’ve completed.”

“Thank you.” She didn’t look pleased by the praise, though she didn’t look displeased, either. Her expression was too aloof for either, almost feline in the way her nose tipped up, the way her eyes blinked slowly. He liked it.

He sank his hands deep into his trouser pockets. “Have you had any problems?”

She raised a slim shoulder dismissively. “Nothing I couldn’t deal with.”

Ryder allowed a ghost of a smile. Perfect answer. He had to admit, he already liked her more than any woman he’d dated. Since he’d decided to marry her three weeks ago—immediately after the reading of his father’s will—he’d done a thorough background check and found that she seemed a good match for him. They both had high-profile, complicated families, and they both steered away from those families and the publicity surrounding them as much as possible.

But the bottom line was, this marriage needed to go ahead so he could buy her father’s company, including its stock in his own family’s company. If they had a connection, a spark, that was icing. Since—as he’d discovered at the recent reading of his father’s will—his father had split his majority share of stock in Bramson Holdings between his legitimate and illegitimate families, the stakes were high. His father had begun in food, then diversified into hotels when he’d realized he would need unrelated career paths for his sons. Ryder had always expected that his half brothers would inherit Bramson Hotels, and he would inherit Bramson Food Holdings, which he’s spent his entire working life strengthening.

Or that, as the legitimate son, he would get it all.

But what had happened after his father’s unexpected death was a mess. Neither he nor his half brothers owned enough stock in the parent company to hold outright control by themselves, turning the boardroom into a battle ground. Damn shortsighted of his father, but the upshot was, Ryder needed to fix this, fast.

His mother had stoically suffered the scandals and his father’s emotional neglect through her marriage and in return she’d been publicly humiliated after her husband’s death. One thing Ryder could guarantee—he would acquire enough stock to claim a majority in his own right and gain control of the board. Set everything to right again.

Macy’s father’s company was a key in that plan. Ian Ashley’s company owned a chunk of stock in Bramson Holdings. A chunk that Ryder himself would own, as soon as he could buy Ashley International. And then he’d be within sight of that clear majority of stock.

Time to place his proposition on the table. And to do that, he needed to see her one-on-one.

He knew her father hadn’t told her about the secret condition of sale, that he wanted the new owner to marry one of his daughters. Seemed he was an old-school businessman and wanted to pass the company to a male heir. Since he only had daughters, he wanted to sell to a son-in-law who would, in turn, produce a grandson to inherit. Initially Ryder had resisted the marriage demand that accompanied the contract of sale on principle, but his father’s will had changed everything. Now owning the stock that Ashley International held was nonnegotiable.

So, given that Macy was in the dark about her father’s plans, Ryder had decided it’d be best to ease into things—to ensure his offer didn’t come completely out of the blue. Of course it would still seem sudden to her—he couldn’t help that. But if he was right about her, she was practical enough to appreciate the offer on its merits—he’d be a faithful husband, he was financially stable even without the inheritance, and he’d be a good father. And, to ensure her assent, he was prepared to offer her whatever she wanted, be that a house on the French Riviera, a company of her own, or whatever else she desired.

He strode across the office to shut the door, then returned to the desk, leaning a hip on the edge. Macy didn’t bat an eyelash at the closed door, showing again that she was perfect for his lifestyle—unflappable.

“Macy, I’d like to see you somewhere away from the office.” She opened her mouth, but he spoke first. “Have a drink with me tonight.”

The pulse at the base of her throat fluttered and she didn’t quite meet his eyes. “I’m not sure tonight is good.”

Undeterred, he inclined his head toward the window’s city view. “Where’s the best place to have a drink in this city?”

She blinked. “Probably The Jazz Room. But I have no interest in mixing business with my personal life, Mr. Bramson.”

“Ryder.”

She drew herself up even straighter. “Ryder. If you’d like to discuss work matters, I’d be happy to—”

“I don’t want to discuss work matters,” he interrupted. “I’m asking you out on a date.”

Her lips compressed into a flat line. “I’d prefer you didn’t do that.”

He’d expected resistance, and it didn’t worry him. In fact, he’d rather confront any issues between them early.

He angled his head to the reports stacked on his desk. “Because I’m your boss?”

She held his gaze, unflinching. “Among other reasons.”

“Well, let’s deal with that one first. I’m not asking you out as your boss. I’m asking as a man who’s seen a beautiful woman and wants to have a drink with her, even though it’s slightly inappropriate.” Make that incredibly inappropriate in the modern workplace for him to ask out an employee. But this was hardly an everyday situation. “I want you to know I’ve never done this before, but I’m compelled to make an exception here.”

Her hazel eyes focused on his mouth for a fleeting moment, and every nerve ending in his lips leaped to life.

“It’s impossible for me to forget you’re my boss. You’re holding a potential promotion in your hands and I’d rather not complicate that issue.”

He smiled. Integrity. Such an attractive quality. “What if I gave you that promotion now? If I said you’ll definitely be the CEO of Chocolate Diva’s Australian operation?”

Her eyes flared and her lips parted before she brought herself back under control. “Then I’d say we’ve already complicated things. I want that promotion but I don’t want a single question in anyone’s mind about how I got it.”

He pushed off the desk, bringing him to stand in front of her … within touching distance. “We don’t have to tell anyone.”

She flicked her long hair over her shoulder. “That’s hardly the point. I’ll know.”

He hadn’t expected she’d accept the unearned promotion—if she’d wanted the easy route she’d still be at home with daddy’s money like her sister. But he was still relieved she’d turned him down. He’d prefer his wife to have principles, even if it did make this stage of the negotiations more challenging.

He reached for her hand and held it lightly between his. No pressure, just holding. And yet her skin touching his set off a sizzling heat that traveled through his veins all the way to his toes. For one extraordinary moment, he forgot the pressure to marry, forgot the company buyout, forgot the inheritance, and just wanted.

Wanted her.

As he watched, a blush stole up her décolletage, along her throat and bloomed on her cheeks.She felt it, too. The pull to kiss her delectable lips, to taste her, was almost overwhelming. His skin tightened and his lungs labored, but he couldn’t get carried away. Couldn’t count his chickens before they hatched.

He needed to marry her, not entice her into his bed.

Hauling himself back, he cleared his throat. “What if I promise our date won’t affect your promotion, that no one else will know, and that it will just be one drink?”

Her skin was so soft he couldn’t help but run a thumb across the back of the hand he still held, then over her palm. He watched as her pupils dilated. She was wavering.

“One drink, Macy. No torture involved.” He gave her a half smile. Damn, she was beautiful.

Then she withdrew her hand and nodded, back to being cool and businesslike. “I’ll meet you at the bar. Seven o’clock.”

“Looking forward to it,” he said before she turned and strode from his office. “More than you know,” he murmured to the empty room.

He tapped a thumb to his bottom lip, still prickling with awareness of her. If he could get her to agree to his plan, if he could convince her, then it’d be full steam ahead.

And he had a gut feeling that it would be. That he’d just made a date with his future wife.




Two


At seven o’clock, Macy stood outside The Jazz Room, taking in the scene—an upmarket cocktail bar with live jazz, and a deep room full of beautiful people in their glamorous best. Muted red walls surrounded the almost-capacity crowd who sat on tall stools at the gleaming bar or at polished silver tables.

She spotted Ryder sitting at the bar, and was uncharacteristically nervous for the second time in one day. She was on a date with Ryder Bramson. She’d always been so careful about keeping her work and private life separate, yet she’d agreed to meet her boss socially.

It wasn’t the first time she’d been hit on by a colleague or employer, but it never got any easier to rebuff. Ryder had quickly moved past her first line of defense—her aloof exterior—and now she had to play very carefully.

Rejecting the boss was just as bad a career move as sleeping with him.

In effect, she was cornered.

Ryder saw her and unfurled his long frame from the stool and strode toward her, purposeful intent oozing from his whole body. Her knees felt weak and she locked them to keep from swaying.

He stopped near enough for her to smell his clean woodsy scent, to feel the heat from his body, to see the shiny-smooth skin of his jaw where he’d recently shaved.

Ryder bent to kiss her cheek and she was surprised he’d do something so familiar. Surprised at the tingling on the side of her face where his lips had touched.

“You look beautiful,” he murmured.

His voice was a note deeper than it’d been in his office, and she felt it reverberate through her body. And there was something reassuring about his American accent. She was used to being the only American in the room, surrounded by Australian accents. Her eyes were drawn to his mouth, wanting him to say something else just to hear him speak again.

Oh, who was she kidding? This was nothing like when she’d been hit on before. Which only meant she had to tread with even more caution—the danger of forgetting her self-imposed boundaries was greater.

She’d been burned far too many times by people ready to sell her out, or walk away when times got tough, to trust again. Everyone had an angle, or they were only looking out for themselves. Even her own father, the person she should be able to depend on utterly, had distanced himself from her when she’d needed him the most—as a thirteen-year-old girl who’d just lost her mother.

So she’d accept Ryder’s compliment but not read anything much into it.

She ran her tongue over dry lips. “Thank you.”

She saw him watch the action, then move his gaze slowly up to her eyes. “Do you want to sit at the bar or take a table?”

Glad for a reason to break eye contact, she scanned the room. “The tables down the back are quieter.”

He put a hand on her waist and guided her toward the back of the room. As they wove their way through the tables, Johnny, a waiter who’d served her here before, was delivering drinks to a group of customers. He saw her and winked before continuing to place the brightly colored cocktails on the table.

As she spared him a brief smile, Macy thought she’d caught a faint scowl marring Ryder’s features but when she looked fully at him, there was no sign.

Ryder found a table in a corner that had a modicum of privacy. He pulled her chair out for her to sit, then turned to take his own seat, giving her a brief view of his back, so broad in the moss-green shirt, and exquisitely tapered down to his black trousers. For a man who had sat virtually motionless through the meeting today, he moved with masculine grace.

“You come here regularly?” Ryder’s voice held the first hint of curiosity she’d heard from him. Strange that he hadn’t seemed as curious about her reports—detailing launch expenses in the millions—as her social life.

Macy shrugged one shoulder as she scanned the drinks menu. “Occasionally.”

The live jazz was always exceptional, and sometimes when she’d finished a long day at work, after eating takeaway at her desk, all she wanted was to be lost in a dimly lit crowd for one drink. To unwind before going home.

Ryder didn’t respond for one minute, then two. But she wouldn’t look up from the list of drinks. She could feel him watching her—the air was charged with the tension of it—another tactic that probably worked well for him with employees. She continued to casually read the cocktail options.

Finally, he spoke. “Why do I get the feeling you don’t talk much about yourself?”

She smiled, closed the drinks list and laid it on the silver tabletop. “I’ll have a margarita.”

Without looking around, he held up a finger. Johnny appeared and Ryder ordered her margarita plus a martini, no olive.

Once Johnny left, Ryder cleared his throat. “What made you settle in Melbourne?” “

I like it here.”

“You obviously didn’t move for the weather. Hot as hell today, yet arctic winds on the way over here tonight.” He smiled ruefully.

She recrossed her legs under the table, irritated that he’d been here less than a day and was already finding fault with her adopted home. But annoyance was another reaction she couldn’t show her boss. “Actually, I like the weather. Makes me feel like I’m not stuck in one place all the time. The trick is to dress in layers.”

“Useful local information.”

Johnny returned back with their drinks, and she gave him a quick smile. Waiter and customer—a nice, uncomplicated relationship, just how she liked them.

Then she looked across at her date—a more complicated, tangled relationship she couldn’t imagine. But she smiled at him, too, and accepted her glass. “Thank you.”

“Believe me, it’s my pleasure.” He tasted his martini and winced. “Too dry.”

Macy slowly twirled her glass, looking for the perfect place on the salt-encrusted rim to sample her drink. A much better option than looking at the man across from her. If he’d been anyone other than her boss, this might have been playing out differently … but he was.

He swallowed a mouthful of his drink then sat back in his seat. “Tell me something about yourself.”

Macy sipped her margarita then licked the salt from her lips. This was the exact problem with being out socially with a colleague—the sharing of personal information. The press had shared her personal information with the world most of her life. It’d left a bitter taste in her mouth.

She tapped a fingertip on the stem of her glass. “Ryder, don’t pretend you don’t know who I am.”

Even if her face hardly ever ran in the media nowadays, her name wouldn’t slip past a man as savvy and intelligent as Ryder. Her father worked in a similar industry and her sister was in the glossy magazines most weeks. Her surname was hardly low profile.

His eyes held hers with intensity. “I know what family you come from. I know a little bit about your childhood, like most Americans. But you’re wrong. I don’t know who you are.” Ryder stretched his legs to the side of the table. “But I’d like to.”

Macy expelled a long breath. This farce had gone on long enough. She’d thought she could play this game—one date with the boss, but she’d been wrong. Every moment this went on, she was getting in deeper into her own personal catch-22: she couldn’t get involved with him and she couldn’t rebuff his efforts to get involved. Either way she’d possibly offend him and kiss her promotion goodbye. She had to say something now before she was completely out of her depth.

She flicked her hair over a shoulder and met his gaze. “Ryder, I know I said I’d meet you here tonight, but I have to tell you, I’m uncomfortable about this.”

He straightened in his chair, frowning. “Have I done something to make you uncomfortable?”

Her stomach dipped. Now she had offended him. The man who would decide her promotion.

She held a palm out. “No, that’s the thing—you don’t have to do anything. You’re my boss. You pay my wage and hold a potential promotion in your hands, so I can’t relax.”

Ryder leaned closer. “I understand your concern. I’ve never done this kind of thing before, either.” His voice dipped. “Here and now, I’m not your boss. I’m just a man.”

Macy hesitated. She needed no reminder he was a man. Every feminine instinct she had screamed the fact. But he was her employer, too. “That’s not possible. You’re my boss whether you want to think about it right now or not. It’s inescapable.”

He raised one brow. “What if we don’t try to escape it? What if we try to build on it?” His eyes darkened in a depth of emotion that took her breath away. It transformed his features from rugged to something beautiful. She wanted to reach out and touch his lips, run her hands along his strong jaw. She’d never reacted with this intensity to a man before.

Her body screamed yes, but she didn’t, couldn’t, say the word.

Instead she gave herself an internal shake. Maybe it was time to go home. “I don’t think this is working.”

Ryder inclined his head. “I agree. My understanding of a date includes some small talk about ourselves. If you don’t want to talk about yourself, how about I talk a bit about me?”

Macy hesitated on the edge of her seat, half wanting to leave, half wanting to hear what he’d say. Like her, he was famous for not giving media interviews, and from the comment that one of his staff had made today about him being The Machine, she suspected it wasn’t only the media he refused to be open with.

Apparently taking her silence as consent, Ryder took a sip of his martini, swallowed, then began. “I suspect you know I was born in Rhode Island and that I grew up there and in New York City.”

She nodded, settling back into her seat now he’d made the decision for her about staying. She’d also heard about the open secret of his half brothers—would he go as far as mentioning them? From what she knew of him, it wasn’t likely.

“Although my parents were married, my father was absent, so I was raised by my mother.” A flash of a frown creased his forehead—too quick for her to be completely sure she’d seen it. But something told her that there was carefully guarded pain inside that statement. And the girl inside her who’d lost her mother understood.

She relaxed her face and body into an empathetic smile. “Your mother did a good job.”

One corner of his mouth turned up in acknowledgment of the compliment before he took another mouthful of his drink. “My father had a second family—a mistress and two sons. I’d seen them around on occasion, but I met them for the first time at my father’s funeral and then again at the will reading.”

She paused, not quite believing what he’d just shared. “I saw something about that in the papers. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.” He met her gaze for a moment before finishing his drink and pushing the glass to the side of the table. “His death was unexpected but our relationship wasn’t particularly friendly.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s not a shock.” Her mind flew back to when she’d heard the worst news of her life and she felt the sting of emotion in her eyes that always accompanied the memory. She paused until she had it under control before continuing. “My mother died in a plane crash when I was thirteen.”

“I can’t imagine how you got through that,” he said, voice rough. “You must have been devastated.”

She’d wanted to curl up and die. Even now, just thinking about it, her insides were like a black hole that sucked in and destroyed any sign of joy.

She closed her eyes for a long moment, willing herself back from that place of despair before opening them again and nodding. “More than devastated. My father and sister turned to each other, and I—” learned to never rely on anyone “—learned to cope with life on my own.”

She shook her head, banishing the thoughts, and changed the subject. “Do you wish you’d had siblings to grow up with?”

He opened his mouth, about to reply, then frowned and shut it again. She had the feeling he’d been about to offer her a standard reply, but for some reason had changed his mind.

When he spoke, his voice was pitched even lower than usual. “I used to, when I was a boy. But I don’t think I would have made a good brother.”

Her heart softened, honored that she’d been given this gift of truth from a man seemingly unused to bestowing it. “I think anyone would be lucky to have you.”

Ryder’s dark eyes changed, sparked, and the awareness that had been simmering between them leaped to life.

Her insides melted.

She watched Ryder swallow then reach across the table and lay his hand on hers.

Her blood pounded through her veins and she felt the world slow to a stop. Noises retreated until the only sound she was aware of was her own breath. There was no one but the two of them, connected through their hands on a polished metal table.

Eyes locked on his, she turned her wrist so their hands lay palm to palm. The burning heat from his hand suffused hers and traveled throughout her body, bringing goose bumps across her skin and desire coiling low in her belly.

His chest rose and fell in the same erratic rhythm as hers. His lips were slightly parted, ready to speak … or kiss. And with startling clarity she realized she wanted his kiss more than she’d ever wanted anything. Wanted to hear him whisper sweet words in her ear, to lose herself in his embrace.

Then he whispered, “Macy,” and the world came crashing back with reality.

Spell broken, she lowered her eyes and extricated her hand from his gentle clasp, leaving it to lie in her lap. Ryder slid his hand across the table to grasp his empty glass.

“Another margarita?” His voice was like gravel. “You said one drink,” she said softly, still not meeting his eyes.

“I’d hoped you might want another.”

“No,” she said. “Thank you for the offer, but no. I have a lot of work to get through tomorrow.” Feeling like she needed to make the excuse stronger, she added, “Making last-minute arrangements for our trip to Sydney in a couple of weeks.” They would look at potential retail space for one of their first brand-name stores, a companion to the Melbourne shop.

“I’m looking forward to it.”

She stood, smoothing down her jacket with a trembling hand. “So, I’d better make it an early night.”

He moved to her side and settled his palm into the small of her back. “I’ll see you home.”

Macy bit down on her lip. She needed this date over before she did something truly stupid—like press herself against him and wind her arms around his neck. “That won’t be necessary.”

He guided her through the room. “It’ll be my pleasure. I’ve always seen my dates home.”

Once they stood on the pavement, she turned to face him in the dappled streetlight. “No, really, I’m fine.”

Ryder gave a half smile, as if he knew exactly what she was doing. “I won’t compromise on this.”

He picked up her hand and laid a soft kiss on her wrist that sent a slow burn through her bloodstream. She snatched her hand back—she couldn’t let herself be dazzled.

Ryder gave another half smile. Then he turned to hail a cab. A bright orange car pulled up on the street in front of them and she slid into the backseat, soon joined by Ryder. He was close, so close, and it was much more intimate sharing the backseat of a sedan than in a public bar.

“Where to, Macy?” Ryder asked.

She clipped her seat belt, determined to keep her distance at all costs—a promotion was worth more than a night in the boss’s bed.



Ryder listened to Macy give the driver her address and frowned. Having never been to Melbourne before, there were only a few streets that were familiar to his ears.

“You live next door to our office?”

She settled back into her seat. “Yes.”

Though it would have been covered in her resume, he remembered the location of both her previous workplace and home address from the dossier he’d had prepared on her once he’d decided they would marry. And her home those three weeks ago was not their current destination.

He cocked his head on the side. “Your last job was on the other side of Melbourne.”

“It was,” she conceded, glancing at the city streets and the evening traffic through her window, before returning her gaze to him. “I moved.”

Ryder adjusted his long legs to turn his frame more toward her. This little pearl of insight was too valuable to let pass. “You moved for a two-month project?”

She raised one shoulder and let it fall. “I like to be near my work.”

Very near. “Do you always move when you change jobs?”

Macy shifted in her seat, not quite squirming, but definitely not happy answering the question. Interesting.

Then she called up another polite smile. “Usually. It makes sense to be near where I spend the majority of my day. And it means I can be called in on short notice.”

He frowned, considering the pieces of the puzzle. There was more to it. “You live in temporary places.”

She nodded once. “They suit my purposes.”

They pulled up at the downtown high-rise apartment block and Ryder leaned forward to look at the building through the windscreen. “In what way?”

“They’re temporary.” Macy clasped the door handle. “Thanks for seeing me home.”

He swiveled back to her. She thought he’d leave her alone on a city street? Not likely. Besides, it was time he put his proposition on the table. They’d made a connection—now he had to hope it was enough to back up the logic of his offer.

Ryder thrust some Australian notes at the driver. “I’m seeing you to your door.”

Her lush lips compressed into a flat line. “There’s no need. Really.”

He took his change and thanked the driver. “Yes, there is.”

She inclined her head, accepting graciously, if a little reluctantly.

Feeling upbeat, he stepped out onto the road and circled around to meet Macy on the pavement. It was a good sign she didn’t have roots here. She wouldn’t have trouble moving back to the States with him.

He laid a hand on the small of her back as they walked into the foyer of her building. Besides the doorman who stood discreetly at the entrance, they were alone, and the sounds of their shoes on the marble floors echoed through the softly lit interior.

Their first date had gone well, all things considered. Now he just needed to garner an invitation to her apartment and outline his offer and its merits.

Three steps into the silent foyer, Macy turned on the marble floor and faced him. “I only have to go up that elevator. You’ve seen me home.” She moistened her lips and he couldn’t have dragged his gaze away with a gun to his head. Her scent, something exotic, surrounded him.

She was so damn beautiful he had to replay her words in his head to get her meaning. Was it a good thing or bad that the woman he wanted to marry made his body overheat and frazzled his brain?

“Invite me up,” he said.

She shivered almost imperceptibly, but then arched one eyebrow, as if in control. “Why would I do that?”

A slow smile spread across his face. Her veneer of control called to him, compelled him to move closer. He could see her writhing in his bed, in his arms, under him, all thoughts of control long gone.

His voice, when he found it, was rough. “There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

Macy glanced at his mouth then met his eyes. “I don’t think talking’s what you have in mind.”

He reached and found her fingers with his, holding them at his side in the lightest of clasps. “Sure, just because I want to talk doesn’t mean I’m not aching to touch you.” To kiss you. To taste you.

Her pupils dilated to almost cover her hazel irises but she didn’t move.

He leaned over and brushed his lips lightly across hers, meaning it to be no more than a peck, a brief demonstration of his words. He began to pull away but he couldn’t help gently touching her mouth again. Those lips had been on his mind for twelve hours straight. Just one more touch …

Her mouth yielded, opened to him, and he needed no second invitation for something he’d been wanting to do since she’d arrived at the bar. As he deepened the kiss, he moved forward, closing the distance but not pressing against her—not yet—the bulk of his coat ensuring a respectable distance. Her tongue lightly touched his, a caress sweeter than he’d even imagined.

Drunk on her exotic scent, he lifted his hands to cup her face, finding her cheeks were like silk under his palms. He felt her hands on his shoulders, lightly, then more assured as they traveled an exquisite path to his neck before her fingers tangled in his hair. He was lost. He moved—

A flash went off, lighting up the room, and Ryder pulled back, blinking, scanning the area. Through the front glass wall, a lone photographer stood with a long lens zoom, still clicking and flashing rapidly. The doorman was already in action, racing to the photographer, and Ryder shoved Macy into an alcove where she’d be more protected, then stormed to the door. By the time he reached the spot, the photographer was running down the street.

The paparazzi had found him.

Breathing choppy, he narrowed his eyes and watched the coward flee. He’d managed to avoid them since landing in Australia. They targeted him every so often, but they’d stepped up their assault since his father’s death—on him, and his half brothers Seth and Jesse. Most of the time he ignored them and didn’t let the media affect his life, but they’d just interrupted a very private moment. One he was enjoying immensely. He kicked at the concrete path, accepted the apologies of the doorman, then strode back inside to find Macy.

She stood in the alcove, her arms hugging her waist, her face a shade paler than before. Without thinking, he wrapped his arms around her, attempting to take away the aftertaste of the shock. She must be more used to being photographed than him, but since he hadn’t seen recent photos of her in the papers, it’d probably been a while for her. And they’d both been so carried away by that kiss, she was probably still reeling from its abrupt ending.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into her hair.

She stood motionless in his embrace, arms still around her own waist, a world away from him. “I think it was good timing,” she said unsteadily.

“What do you mean?” He held her a little tighter, suspecting where she was going.

Disengaging herself from his arms, she stepped back. Her shoulders were square, ready to face whatever came, but her eyes were haunted. Ryder clenched his fists to stop from reaching for her again.

She took a deep breath and let it out in measured evenness. “I won’t have an affair with my boss. I’ve spent too much time building my professional reputation to see it destroyed over a fling.”

“What makes you think I’m only interested in a fling?”

Her eyes held a world of pain and cynicism. “Experience.”

She’d been hurt. Thinking of her being hurt, betrayed, made him want to reach for her all the more, to offer words of comfort, but he knew she wouldn’t want sympathy so he bit them back and waited.

She glanced at the spot where the intruder had been, then back to him. “I’m sorry, I never should have agreed to this date.” She pulled herself up to her full height, spine stiff. “Thank you for the drink, but you have to realize we can’t repeat it.”

He frowned. This was clearly going to be a problem he’d need to overcome before he could convince her to marry him. Or, more pressingly, to kiss him again.

He needed to tread gently. Lifting her chin with a knuckle, he said, “Macy, don’t let a parasite of a photographer ruin our night. We were enjoying ourselves until that flash went off.”

Her eyes softened for a moment and he thought she was with him, but then her shutters came down.

“I—I have to go.” She whirled and walked a little too fast toward the elevator. Jaw clenched, he watched her leave, telling himself not to follow, not to come on too strong and ruin this. No matter how much he wanted to go after her, comfort her, his whole future depended on not scaring her away.

When the elevator pinged and she disappeared behind mirrored doors, he was left alone. The empty feeling that over took him was strangely hard to swallow for a man who prided himself on being a loner. He just didn’t want to leave this blasted foyer where they’d kissed only moments ago.

Don’t be sentimental and stupid. Ryder turned and strode outside to find another cab.

Their wedding couldn’t come soon enough.




Three


Macy stepped into the hall, letting the door to her serviced apartment click shut behind her. The night had been long and sleepless with images of Ryder replaying in her mind. His face so close as his mouth descended to hers … his short hair spiked between her fingers … his breath warming her cheeks …

Sensations from that kiss had tormented her body until the sheets had become a twisted mess and she’d had to trade any hopes of sleep for early morning coffee.

She pressed the elevator button and tapped the toe of her three-inch heels until the doors swished open. Facing him this morning would be difficult, knowing how she’d acted last night.

She’d kissed her boss.

Would he take her seriously in the office now?

Would he try to repeat the intimacy?

Would the other staff members be able to tell she’d been kissed by the CEO of the company, and if so, would they snigger behind their hands thinking she’d tried to sleep her way to a promotion?

She’d worn pumps higher than the normal kitten heels she routinely wore to work to eliminate some of his height advantage, even though they’d still only bring her to his forehead or so. And she’d chosen a professional look—a duck-egg-blue silk blouse with a high collar and a fine wool skirt. She’d pulled her hair back tightly into a French twist to make sure she sent no sexual signals.

The kiss, bone-melting as it may have been, could not be repeated if she wanted to keep her reputation. Or her sanity.

As the elevator arrived at the ground floor, her phone rang. She flicked it open and thumbed the talk button.

Ryder’s deep voice came down the line. “I can explain.”

She smiled grimly. It was a little late, but at least it was a step in the right direction.

She waved to the doorman and stepped out onto the misty street. “I’d rather forget it. One kiss, it’s over, we’ll move on.”

There was a pause on the line. “Have you read the papers?”

She pulled her scarf a bit tighter against the early morning chill. And frowned. “No.”

“I’m on my way. I’ll be at work in ten minutes.”

The phone disconnected.

She threw it in her bag and walked just a little faster into the office building next door that housed the temporary Chocolate Diva suites.

He’d mentioned the papers. It could be something about the company’s tentative plans to move into the Australian market. Or … it could be about the photographer last night. He’d been at a distance and shooting through glass for the few seconds before Ryder had given chase. She’d hoped any shots he’d fired off would be unusable.

But either way—a company story or a paparazzi shot—why would Ryder need to explain?

Reaching her office door, she had to stop herself rushing as she booted up her computer and clicked on the link to the Melbourne papers.

And then her stomach dropped clear to her toes.

There on the front page was a shot of Ryder kissing her in the foyer of her apartment building. The photo was a little grainy but there was no doubt it was them. Her eyes flicked to the headline.

Bramson Buys Ashley Int. Heiress.

She read down, her breath coming a little faster with each line.

“… in a secret deal between Bramson and Ian Ashley …”

“… our source said off the record that Macy Ashley’s hand in marriage was the price …”

“… Bramson wanted to marry the younger, prettier Ashley heiress but was told the only option was Macy …”

“… Bramson is believed to have completed the deal with Ms. Ashley last night …”

Macy’s hand flew to her mouth as her body shook. Her brain screamed to turn off the screen but she couldn’t look away.

It could all be lies.

Could be.

She bit down on her lip. He’d said on the phone he could explain.

She heard the elevator sound a second before Ryder strode into the office looking more like a commander on a battlefield—leading legions of men, his orders obeyed without question—than a man who’d come to apologize.

He pulled up in front of her desk and slid his hands into his pockets, making his charcoal suit jacket bunch above his wrists. She couldn’t stand up—her knees may not have supported her weight—so she remained in her high-backed office chair.

Ryder looked down into her face, assessing. “You’ve read it.”

Those were his first words? Not, “It’s a pack of lies"? She leaned back into the executive chair, ready to be lied to. “Is it true?”

He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Some of it.”

She focused on his burnt orange shirt with its neatly knotted charcoal tie as she took calming breaths. It was easier than looking into the eyes of yet another betrayer. “When were you going to tell me? Ever?”

“I intended to tell you last night,” he said, his voice deep and rumbling.

She remembered him asking her to invite him up, that he had something important to say. She’d doubted him at the time, thinking he had something more physical on his mind. But it was possible he’d planned to explain this mess.

Slowly, she stood, stretching to her full height plus the three inches of her heels. “Which parts are true?”

He speared long fingers through his hair, held them there, then nodded before digging his hands into his pockets again. “I wanted to buy your father’s company. He said he’d only sell to a son-in-law. Said it’d been a family company for three generations, and he intended that to continue into the fourth and fifth generations.”

Bile rose in her throat. Yes, she could believe that of her father. It fitted his obsession with the future of his company, his total contempt for the idea that a daughter could be the one to hand it down to.

Her mouth twisted into a smile. “And apparently the deal on the table was only for me, much to your disappointment.”

He held up a hand. “That part of the report was wrong. Your father’s terms stipulated either daughter. I chose you.”

Macy coughed out a laugh. She didn’t believe that for a second. Kyla had always been the one the boys preferred—she was gorgeous, sexy and knew how to make a man come to her with her eyes. Of course Ryder would have chosen Kyla if he’d had the option.

Another thought struck. “Did you tell the media?”

“No.” His forehead creased into a frown. “And to be honest, I can’t think of how the media got hold of it. Surely your father wouldn’t want this type of publicity, either?”

She sighed. “Kyla.” It was her style.

“To jeopardize the sale?”

“To make me say no.” And then land the bachelor catch of the year herself.

Which brought her back to the facts: her father had tried to sell her. And Ryder had jumped at the offer.

She looked out the window, down to the buildings below, before finding his eyes again. “I can’t believe you even considered this, let alone agreed.” She’d thought her ability to judge people had improved, but this demonstrated otherwise.

The elevator doors whooshed open out in the hall and she heard Tina dropping her bag on her desk outside.

Ryder didn’t turn to the noise but he paused, waiting.

Tina poked her head around the door to give her usual morning greeting, but hesitated as she took in the scene. “Are you okay?”

Ryder didn’t take his eyes off Macy as he replied. “We’re fine. Shut the door on your way out.”

Macy nodded to her assistant to confirm she was okay and Tina discreetly backed out, closing the door behind her.

As if they hadn’t been interrupted, Ryder continued, his voice calm … persuasive. “We could have a good marriage. I’d be a faithful husband and an involved father with our children.”

He’d already factored children into the equation? Macy blinked rapidly, trying to recapture her inner balance. This conversation became more bizarre with every passing minute.

With three easy steps he was behind the desk with her. Not within touching distance, but strategically eliminating the desk as a barrier.

“And I’m prepared to give you whatever you want. A house in Tuscany. Your own company. Diamonds, rubies, sapphires. Name your terms.” He tilted his head to the side, the picture of reasonableness. “I think we’d get along well.”

Macy crossed her arms under her breasts, needing some sort of protection. Not from his words, but from his presence. She could smell his scent and it brought back memories she couldn’t afford to indulge right now.

She tilted her chin up. “I’m not sure where you got the idea that I’d be interested in your peculiar offer, but I will not now—nor will I ever—enter into a marriage of convenience. We don’t know each other well enough to even have this conversation.” She let her arms drop to her sides and let out a long breath. “What about love? Don’t you want to wait and find a woman you love?”

Ryder rolled back his broad shoulders. “I have to be honest. Love isn’t something I can offer.”

Macy sucked in a breath at his quick and effortless dismissal of being able to love her. But it wasn’t worth wasting energy over. She shook her head. “If you know anything about my family, you have to know the last man I’d ever marry is the one my father picked out for me.”

His eyelids lowered a fraction as his voice became seductive. “You liked me last night.”

Instinctively, she glanced at the screen on her desk, to the front page of the paper. To the image of Ryder kissing her. The shot had been taken as he cupped her cheeks with his hands, so they floated in the air, framing her face. Her throat went dry and she swallowed, remembering the crushing need she’d felt for him in that moment. Remembering the feel of him, the taste of him, the smell of him….

She ignored the ache that pressed in her chest, then, resolute, she looked up and met his eyes. “I won’t break my contract—I’m a professional. I’ll see out this project for the six weeks left. Then I’m gone. I don’t want your promotion. And in the meantime, no more games. You’ll keep your distance. There will be no meetings alone, or trips together like the one planned to Sydney in two weeks.”

His shoulders squared and his feet moved a little wider apart. “Not acceptable.”

She did a double take. “Pardon?”

“If you’re seeing out the contract, then you still work for me. You will be on that plane to Sydney. I’m not going on an important trip with an accountant or a personal assistant when the team leader is available.”

Macy took an unsteady step back, mind whirling. “You can’t possibly expect—”

“I do.” Any trace of the man who’d kissed her was gone from his expression as he cut her off. The Machine was back. “There are no lame ducks on my payroll. If you’re staying, you’ll carry out your duties properly.”

He turned and strode out the door, leaving her open-mouthed, watching him.

Had she felt cornered before? Seemed she’d just discovered a whole new level of entrapment.



One week later, Macy stood in the foyer of her apartment building watching for Ryder’s car. Right on the dot of 8:00 a.m. it arrived, yet she wasn’t surprised. The Machine probably ran his whole life like clockwork.

The silver luxury car pulled to the curb and the uniformed driver circled to open her door. Macy smiled in greeting to Bernice in the front passenger seat. She’d worked with Ryder’s personal assistant several times over the days the American team had been based in the Melbourne offices, and respected her.

“Thank you.” She slid into the backseat where Ryder’s solid length was settled.

“Good morning, Macy,” he said, voice deep and rough. Dressed in a dark suit with a sky-blue shirt and tie the same shade, he dominated the sedan. His clean, woodsy scent filled the air.

She gave him a polite smile, belying the way the sight of him still made her pulse spike. “Good morning.”

They’d kept the polite facade going since the morning the paparazzi photo had been in the paper. The way she wanted it.Needed it to keep her reaction to him under control.

As the driver climbed back behind the wheel and pulled away, Ryder’s voice rumbled again from beside her. “Bernice, did William send those updates?”

Pages rustled in the front and Ryder and his personal assistant were soon in deep conversation. With no desire to hear details of the U.S. operations of companies unrelated to her project, Macy blocked it out and thought about the delicate issue she needed to bring up with Ryder as soon as she got him alone.

From the day the paper ran the story about them, security guards had been stationed not only at the office, but also in front of her apartment building. When she left each night, the guards escorted her next door and shielded her from the small contingent of paparazzi that now staked out their street.

When she’d first quizzed her doorman about the guards at her apartment complex, he’d said the building’s owner had employed them. But last night the doorman had let slip another piece of information that had confirmed her suspicions.

Ryder was behind the new security staff.

Macy bit down on her lip. Despite his cool, professional interactions with her in the past week, he’d acted—and was still acting—to keep her safe.

She’d been shocked, but her heart had melted a little at the revelation. No one had tried to safeguard her since the day her mother died. No one else had cared enough … until Ryder.

She took a deep breath and steadied herself as she reinforced the walls around her heart. Just because it seemed he’d been protecting her, she couldn’t let herself be swayed into forgetting the deal he’d made with her father.

To buy her hand in marriage.

A secret transaction with her as the currency.

Suddenly there wasn’t enough air in the car as her lungs struggled to inhale. She clicked the window control and when the breeze pushed gently against her face, she sucked in a deep breath.

“Are you all right?” Ryder asked, the palpable concern in his voice reaching across to caress her skin.

Macy almost laughed. He was at it again—making sure she was okay, when he was the cause of her problem. Confusing her.

She spared him a quick glance, nodded once to avoid further questions, then turned back to the safety of the window. The hairs at the back of her neck still prickled, and she knew he watched her.

While she focused on the passing scenery, Bernice’s cheery voice caught her attention, asking questions about Melbourne.

Reluctantly, Macy closed the window and answered, keeping her eyes on the back of Bernice’s head, trying in vain to be more focused on Bernice than the man mere inches from her on the backseat.He’d betrayed her in a deal with her father. Yet, in this moment, sitting beside him in the backseat of a car, all she could think of was the cab ride home seven days ago which had led to the bone-melting kiss in the lobby. A mere touching of lips that still kept her awake every night, tossing and turning.

Realizing her breaths were coming quicker, she dug out a report on the outer-Melbourne chocolate factory they were about to inspect with the view to purchase, and passed it to Ryder.

But he didn’t raise a hand to take it. “I told you I’m not here to read reports. You can fill me in with a commentary during the tour.”

Macy took it in her stride, and filed the report back into her briefcase. “Of course.”

His BlackBerry beeped with a message, and as he thumbed the buttons, he asked, “How was the rest of your meeting with the ingredients supplier yesterday?”

She thought back to the afternoon meeting with a quick smile of satisfaction. “Very good. We nailed down the details on the points we’d discussed with you.”

Ryder had been taking meetings all week with Australian, New Zealand and Southeast Asian managers from subsidiary companies of Bramson Food Holdings. Management from his biscuit company, prepackaged food company and sauce company had all been through the office yesterday for their chance to report in to the CEO.

In between his scheduled appointments, Ryder had made a point of keeping up with what was going on in her Chocolate Diva project.

He paused in his rapid one-handed typing on his BlackBerry and looked up at her. “Do you want to discuss any of it?”

She shook her head. “Thanks, but I’m happy with the progress.”

When Ryder had started sitting in on her meetings, she’d been wary, feeling like Big Brother was watching over her shoulder. But as the days had passed, she’d found they worked well together as a team and had come to value his input.

He nodded approvingly and threw the BlackBerry on the seat beside him. “Good work.”

They traveled in silence, Bernice and the driver chatting in quiet voices, Macy mentally running through the day’s agenda and preparing the commentary she’d be giving Ryder at the factory.

And thinking about their upcoming conversation about her building’s security.

Every so often, she flicked a glance at her boss lounging back in his seat. He occasionally watched the cityscape, but more often, made or took calls. Had his sleep been disturbed, too, or had the kiss been a purely clinical exercise for him with an eye on her father’s company?

Even in the spacious luxury car, his legs lay spread to accommodate his considerable height, and one of his thighs rested within touching distance from hers. She could feel the body heat radiate across the distance, and she fought the urge to trail her fingers along the length to see if the muscles were as firm as they appeared through the taut fabric.

She turned to focus on the peak hour traffic on the motorway, unwilling to let herself indulge in fantasies of an incredibly inconvenient physical attraction. A man who treated her as a commodity to be bought and sold was not a man she could let herself lose control with again.

The problem was, she couldn’t put Ryder in a simple box. Instead, when she thought about him she almost became dizzy from the back and forth….

He’d worked beside her in harmony for a week.

He’d tried to buy her in a business deal.

He was secretly protecting her from the media.

He wanted them to have a loveless marriage.

He brought her body to life like no man before.

Macy closed her eyes to quiet the tumult of emotions churning in her belly. This project would be over in one month and one week, and then she’d be free. Would never have to see Ryder Bramson again. And in ten days, Ryder would have finished his appointments with his management teams in the Asia-Pacific area and would be on a plane home to America.

All she had to do was survive ten days. The rest, after he was gone, would be easy.

Ten days.

She could do that.

She began reciting projected growth figures in her head and came very close to forgetting about the masculine thigh that lay mere inches from hers.

Very close, but not quite.




Four


After two hours of walking through the chocolate factory with Macy and shaking hands with employees, Ryder had developed a monster of a headache.

It was probably sleep deprivation—he’d had major trouble getting a full forty winks since the moment he’d kissed Macy’s sweet lips. His body had been demanding a repeat performance, and more. Most nights he’d given up and worked until dawn … though he’d been tormented by visions of her mouth, the feel of her hands in his hair, the sensual sound she’d made in her throat when he’d claimed her lips.

As he strode down the corridor, he took a deep breath and brought his body back under control. He was dangerously close to showing everyone in the factory just how much he wanted her. Fatigue made restraint seem less appealing, despite knowing he had to take it slow with her.

He needed time to regroup. Mercifully, a twenty-minute break had been scheduled for him and Macy to discuss their thoughts so far.

The obsequious assistant manager who’d taken them on the morning’s tour showed them into a boardroom. “This is where we’ll be meeting with the factory’s owner, so I thought you’d be most comfortable here. You won’t have to move.”

Macy shook his hand. “Thank you, Peter. We appreciate it.”

Peter held her hand a moment too long and Ryder scowled. “I want a cup—no, make that a pot of coffee, a glass of water and a box of aspirin.”

Macy disentangled her hand. “And a cup of Earl Grey tea, if you have it.”

Peter hurried off to carry out his orders as Ryder stalked around the room, lowering the blinds to eliminate the curious stares from people walking past, then dimming the lights halfway for his headache’s sake.

He turned to Macy, surveying her. She’d worn her silken hair back in a damn knot again. It’d been pulled back every time he’d seen her except the first day they’d met. And the night they’d kissed. The night he’d felt the long strands of her hair slide through his fingers.

He wondered how she’d react if he asked her to wear it down. Not well, judging by the thin frown line marring her forehead. She had something on her mind. He was sure no one else would have noticed but he’d spent almost a week watching her. And today she was a little distracted and that frown line appeared whenever she looked at him. It wouldn’t be long before she told him what was bothering her.

He dug his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “You handled that group of protesting workers well.”

She lifted one shoulder and let it fall in an elegant shrug. “Their questions were reasonable.”

“And yet you refused to answer those questions.” Although the workers had barely realized that fact. She’d defused the tension effortlessly, leaving the workers feeling like they’d been heard as they returned to the production line.

Macy slid gracefully into a chair and laid her briefcase on the pale green table. “I’m in no position to promise them job security until we decide to buy the factory or not.”

“Which only made it harder for you to find a response to placate them. Yet you did.” He probably would have fobbed them off with a “no comment” so Macy’s smooth handling of the situation impressed him all the more.

As Macy pulled her laptop from her briefcase, Ryder rubbed the tense muscles at the back of his neck. She obviously intended to use this session for work. Not going to happen. Not now that he finally had her alone again. Besides, he wanted to see if she’d tell him what was on her mind.

He undid his jacket buttons. “We don’t need to go over those contracts, stats or whatever else you have in there. You’ve briefed me well enough during the tour and I’m confident in your knowledge if we move into other territory.”

Macy hesitated then replaced her briefcase on the floor. “Okay.” She turned alluring hazel eyes on him. “What do you want to do?”

He sank heavily into the chair at the head of the table just as a young woman entered with their drinks and a plate of sweets then discreetly slipped out again.

He popped two painkillers into his palm from the box on the tray. “We can sit in silence. Or we can talk. Your call.” He swallowed the tablets then chased them down with the glass of water.

Macy shifted in her seat. “There is something I’d like to talk about.”

He poured a black coffee and sat back, letting out a long breath. “Shoot.”

He could almost see her change gears as she lifted her mug of tea to her lips and sipped. “You hired extra security for the front of the office building.”

Ryder leaned his head against the padded headrest, warm mug nestled in his hands, and watched her. “I needed to. The paparazzi can’t be trusted to abide by the law.”

“And you instructed them to escort me home at night.” Her voice was soft, almost musical. It soothed his aching head.

“It’s only next door.” It was his fault the vultures were following her. This was the least he could do.

She reached for a shortbread and held it between two slender fingers. “And I suspect you’ve told them to create diversions when I’m ready to go home. There tend to be fewer photographers when I step out than when I check through my office window.”

“All part of the security firm’s service.” He lifted his legs onto the seat beside him and crossed them at the ankles.

In two delicate bites, she’d finished the sweet biscuit. Ryder swallowed hard. Oblivious to her effect on him—or was she?—Macy retrieved her tea. “Tell me another thing.”

Drawing his focus from her mouth back to her dark-fringed eyes, he nodded.

“Are they the same firm supplying security to my apartment building?”

Her tone was polite inquisitiveness, but he sighed. Knowing where this was going, he casually took a slug of coffee before replying. “Yes.”

“And you’re paying for that service, as well.” She cocked her head to the side and again he was reminded of her feline quality.

“Yes.” Of course he’d made sure she was safe. What sort of reprobate would he be if he hadn’t?

She picked up her mug again and held it in both hands as she sipped. “How did you convince the owner to let you do it? He apparently refused security once before because it would give the wrong image.”

Ryder held back a smile. She missed nothing. In fact, he had the strongest feeling she saw far too much—she’d always keep him on his toes once they were married.

“I bought the building.”

Macy’s lightly glossed lips parted, as if to speak, then she closed them again. What emotion was she hiding behind her long lashes? Was she pleased he’d done it? Indifferent?

She crossed her legs and the higher foot began tapping a beat in the air. “Even if you’d signed a contract of sale, you wouldn’t have ownership so soon.”

“I overpaid for it and used cash to ensure immediate transfer of the deed.” He’d paid through the nose, but it’d been worth it to have control over the building’s security. To be able to safeguard Macy.

Her eyes flashed fire. “Ryder, I’m not some damsel you have to save. I can look after myself. I don’t appreciate secret maneuverings in some misguided attempt to protect me.”

He shrugged and threw back the rest of his coffee before plonking the mug on the table. “It was no trouble.” In truth, he’d been pleased to be able to do something for her.

“No trouble? You bought my building!” Seeing her exquisite mouth move with such passion was a pleasure to behold. He could have spent all day just watching it, just talking to her while she was fired up. But to be fair, he’d put her mind at ease.

“Macy, you agree the paparazzi problem was of my creation?”

Her eyes narrowed marginally and her answer was perfectly clear even before she replied. “Completely.”

He arched a brow. “Then allow me to fix it.”

She sucked in a lungful of air and held it for several beats. “On one condition.”

“Name it.”

“No more secret moves. If you do something for me or that affects me, then you tell me.”

“Done.” He dropped his feet to the ground and leaned over to her, hand outstretched.

She hesitated then shook on the deal. Her smooth skin against his sent a warm current of electricity rolling through his system. He didn’t want to release her fingers, to lose the connection, and noticed she didn’t let go, either. Her pupils slowly dilated. His senses became hyper-alert and his heart raced double-time. Every instinct he had screamed to lean over, pull her to him.

Before he could act there was a light knock on the door, and Macy quickly withdrew her hand.

The management team filed into the room and took seats, their faces serious at the prospect of a potential sale. But Ryder smiled inside. He’d already made a decision that was more important than anything that could come from this meeting.

He’d been biding his time for seven days, as he would for any business deal where the other person was skittish.

But that time was almost over. Macy had just shown she’d soon be ready for him to move their relationship forward. He had expected her to walk if she ever found out he’d bought her apartment building. She’d left her family behind once, and she was walking away from a promotion after this project was over. But she’d conceded on the building issue—it seemed she didn’t mind his involvement in her life as much as she’d like him to think.

And her reaction to his touch spoke volumes…. He could still feel the effects sizzling through his bloodstream.

A little time to smooth things over after this and then he’d make a move.

Next step was to propose—properly this time. He’d do it in Sydney on their trip in one week.

He leaned back in his seat. Everything he wanted was nearly within his grasp.



Macy stood on the ground floor of their office building with a woman from another company, waiting for the lift, a small pile of folders in her arms. While the other woman chatted about the weather, Macy covertly scanned the buzz of people in the foyer for Ryder.

She’d successfully avoided being alone with him since the tour of the factory four days ago. Avoiding him was so much easier than saying no to him—something she knew she’d have to do soon though; Ryder Bramson wasn’t a man to give up easily. She just hoped she had enough strength to do it when the time came, and not give in to her body’s yearning.

When the lift arrived from the basement level, the doors slid open and she saw two of the American team. And Ryder. The man who still haunted her dreams and filled her unguarded thoughts. She took a deep breath and steadied herself against his magnetic pull.

Half a step behind the other woman, Macy entered and turned to face the doors, finding herself within touching distance beside her boss. Even without seeing him, she could feel his intoxicating presence, the primal masculinity that was barely hidden by the veneer of a businessman.

“Good morning, Macy.”

“Hello, Mr. Bramson,” she returned with as much formality and professionalism as she could muster.

From the corner of her eye, she saw him sink one hand into a trouser pocket. “Everything going well?”

She was uncomfortably aware of their audience—the others in the lift had no choice but to listen in. And since the morning of the photo in the paper, the staff had discreetly watched whenever she and Ryder crossed paths.

She wrapped her hands tightly around the folders in her hands and stood taller. “Everything is going very well, thank you.”

They stopped at the first floor and the other woman waved goodbye and left. Macy held back a grimace. One less person acting as a buffer. The journey in the lift had never taken so long.

“The security staff aren’t too intrusive?” Ryder asked casually. But she wasn’t fooled—he was asking where they stood with their agreement that she’d accept his intervention on the security issue. She’d decided the day they’d discussed it at the factory that it was, in fact, his responsibility and it hadn’t bothered her since.

“They’ve been very courteous and helpful.”

“Good to hear,” he said. “Tell me, how are things with my new acquisition?”

She felt the interest from their onlookers increase, felt their yearning to grasp the undercurrents of this conversation, their wondering if she was the acquisition. Ryder didn’t seem to be bothered, but she wanted the rest of the staff to be clear on this point at least. “Everything seems fine with the building.”

They finally reached their floor and the others filed away, but when she stepped out, Ryder placed a staying hand on her arm. He held her gaze for several seconds—though it seemed to be minutes—searching for something, asking a question. Then he drew in a long breath. “I’d like to see you in my office. How does twenty minutes from now suit?”

Her stomach fluttered and she wanted nothing more than to invent an excuse to avoid being alone with him. To avoid the conversation he planned on having—whatever it was, she was sure it wasn’t about her project. It was personal, she knew that with everything inside her.

But despite all that had passed between them, he was still her boss, and a direct request was hard to deny.

“I’ll be there.” Gripping the folders tightly, and with head held high, she strode back to her office.

For twenty minutes, she distracted herself with work and determinedly ignored the mix of nerves and excitement in her belly. Then when the clock on her computer screen turned over to the appointed time, she stood and smoothed down her knee-length mocha skirt. She could handle whatever he said. Handle him. She’d survived worse.

She walked resolutely through the corridors, aware her progress was being tracked by more than one person, and knocked on the closed door to Ryder’s office.

“Come in,” the gravelly voice beckoned from inside.

She opened the door and found him sitting at his desk, signing a pile of papers, each page in turn. He didn’t look up. “Close the door and take a seat.”

Visions of being alone with him suddenly filled her mind—in the cab on the night of their date; in the alcove of her apartment building where he’d kissed her—and her heart tripped over itself at the thought of being locked away with him again. But reason quickly took over. They were beyond that now. He’d laid his offer on the table and she’d refused. They were no more than employer and employee, and she’d ensure they stayed at that level.

She shut the door behind her.

Ryder still didn’t look up as she sat in a chair that placed her directly opposite him. She crossed her legs. He continued to sign papers and move them to another pile. “I’ll be with you in a moment. Bernice needs these for the courier who’ll be here soon.”

“That’s fine.” She watched him repeat the distinct signature over and over, noticing for the first time that he was writing with his left hand. She thought back and couldn’t remember seeing him write before, but he’d both held and typed into his BlackBerry with his left hand.

Writing was a different animal though. There was something almost sexual about the way his square palm and long fingers curved around on the page as he signed his name, almost as if it were shaping her breast. Her breaths began to come a little faster. She’d never thought of left-handedness as being particular sexy, but on Ryder, something deep inside her wanted to reach out and grab him, link her fingers through his, bring them to her skin …

He dropped his pen and grabbed the completed pages, striking their ends against the desk to align them. The sharp noise brought her attention back to the office. Had she just been thinking they were like a regular employer and employee? She smothered a self-deprecating laugh.

He hit the intercom button on his phone and told Bernice the forms were ready, and within seconds, Bernice bustled in and took them, giving Macy a friendly greeting on her way out.

Ryder leaned back in his high-back chair and stretched his arms, which only served to highlight the breadth and muscularity of his shoulders. She took a deep breath and held it. She had to stop letting her mind drift to sexual thoughts about her boss. He was attractive, sure. Exceedingly. And he could kiss like the devil himself. But he wasn’t like other men. He wanted her hand in marriage to buy a company. Things were far too complicated to let herself be sidetracked by attraction. The stakes were too high to let her guard down in case she found herself married to him before she realized it had happened. If anyone could do that to her, it would be this man.

He finished stretching and lifted his feet to rest his crossed ankles on the corner of his desk. “How are the plans for the trip to Sydney?”

“They’re on track. I’d write you a report, but …”

“I wouldn’t read it,” he finished for her and smiled. “Macy, I know you were reluctant to take this trip with me, but I assure you, I’ll be a perfect gentleman.”

“I know you will,” she admitted. She knew it was the truth—not that it would help with her own reactions.

“However,” he said with a gleam in his eye, “if you change your mind during the trip, I’ll be ready and waiting.”

She hesitated, not quite trusting that gleam. One thing wasn’t in doubt—he had a remarkable ability to surprise her and she was quickly learning not to take anything at face value where her boss was concerned.

She cocked her head to the side and met his gaze. “Change my mind about marrying you?”

He shrugged one of his well-muscled shoulders. “That, or about your rule of keeping my distance. I’d be more than happy to repeat our date. Or,” he said, voice deeper, “our kiss.”

Images of that kiss came flooding back once more and filled her mind, her body, but she pushed them away and lifted her chin as she replied. “What would be the point of becoming involved when you want it to lead in a direction that I’ll never go?”

“I can think of several reasons.” His warm brown eyes smoldered. “Starting with how mind-blowing that kiss was.”

It was as if champagne had been let loose in her bloodstream—despite her efforts to hold it back, now the effervescence flowed from her fingers to her toes and all the places in between. If he hadn’t made that deal with her father, she could stop fighting and let their attraction take its natural course. But he had. And she couldn’t give in. Once again she banked the fire that he so easily lit inside her and brought her body back under control.

That deal between Ryder and her father was creating grief on so many levels. She’d thought about it endlessly, and one thing still intrigued her.

She uncrossed her legs and sat a little straighter. “Will you tell me something?”

“Anything,” he said, not bothering to hide that he was drawing his attention from her legs back to her face.

“You’ve put your wedding vows, yourself on the market for the sake of your business, for money. Why would you let yourself be sold like that?”

His body snapped to attention. “Sold?”

“To get access to my father’s company, you’re willing to give up your chance to find a wife you love. Or—” she tapped a finger against her cheek “—are you thinking that our marriage would only last until the company is yours?”

He stood and moved to the front of his desk, leaning his weight back on it as he took her hands. His eyes—which only moments before had sizzled with sensual intent—were now serious. “Marriage vows are sacred. Once given they shouldn’t be broken without a damn good reason.”

She’d suspected he’d think that way after growing up with a father who hadn’t taken his own vows seriously. Which made it all the more strange that he’d agreed to this plan.

She retracted her hands from his and stood, pacing to the other side of the room, giving herself a little distance so she could focus on the conversation, and not him. “You’re willing to blow your chance of finding love. Blow it on me, and on getting that company?”

His shoulders went back and his brow furrowed. “That’s not how I see it.”

“Tell me then,” she said, wanting to understand. Every time she unpeeled a layer, he showed her another, each one more intriguing than the last. “Explain how else this could be seen.”

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, as if steeling himself. “Love is not an option for me. I’m simply not put together that way.”

He’d said something similar on the day he’d proposed, but she hadn’t quite believed him. She could see now that he was very serious about it. What would make a man believe love wasn’t an option for him? It had to be something buried deep. And, although he’d said he’d answer anything, to ask him this question felt like an invasion of his privacy. An intimacy too far.

Instead, she drifted back to stand beside her chair and stuck to the impact his belief about love had on their current situation. “So you’d always planned to marry without love.”

He nodded. “Or not marry at all. But I’d prefer to marry, to have that companionship, children. A home. And when your father laid out his condition of sale, I have to admit, the thought of being married to you appealed, regardless of the business deal.”

She felt her eyes widen. He really expected her to buy that? A stranger? He’d gone right past honesty, charm and believability and headed straight for trying to pull the wool over her eyes. He must think she was naive.

She arched an eyebrow. “Tell me how I could appeal when we’d never met?”

His gaze flicked from her lips to her eyes. “This might sound crazy, but whenever your photo is in the paper—usually old photos they recycle when there’s a story on your mother or sister—” he paused to clear his throat “—something in your eyes always haunted me.”

She blinked at him. That was the last thing she’d expected him to say. No, beyond last—it was preposterous. “From a photo?”

“Yes,” he said with certainty.

Macy swallowed hard. It was true. She saw it in his every feature. Ryder, a man with the world at his feet, had been fascinated by an old photo of her. Her knees wobbled and she sank back down into the chair. It didn’t make sense, yet his gaze was solemn.

She thought back to something else he’d said the day he proposed. “You really did choose to pursue me over my sister when you had the option?”

A deep frown line appeared between his brows. “I told you I did.”

Yet, it’d been the day after she’d met him in person for the first time. “I didn’t believe you,” she admitted.

“I mightn’t have given the full story at times, but I’ve never once said something to you that’s untrue. I would never lie to you, Macy.”

She felt her mouth curve in a cynical smile. “Although, in the time we’ve known each other, there have been quite a few instances when you haven’t given me the full story. Buying my apartment block. Wanting to buy my father’s company. I just wonder what other ‘full stories’ there are yet to come out.”

His eyes seemed to pierce hers, but then Bernice knocked on the door and poked her head in. “Your next appointment is here,” she said to Ryder.

He nodded. “I’ll be right out.”

Macy rose. “I’ll leave you to your appointment.”

As she turned to leave, he grasped her hand and his warmth flowed from his hand to hers, heating her body. “I meant what I said. About you changing your mind.” His gaze came to rest on her lips. “Say the word, Macy.”

Her skin prickled with unwanted heat. He was so close. His mouth was so close. She shut her eyes for a long moment against his power. Then she took a deliberate step back and he released her hand.

At the door she turned. “I appreciate the option. But we both know it will never happen.”

Then she walked on unsteady legs back to her own office to focus on something besides her boss and the trip they were taking alone in only a few days.




Five


Macy swallowed away the tightness in her throat, clenched her fingers around her briefcase strap and stepped onto the chartered jet. Her fear of flying meant each plane trip was a leap of faith, but she would never give in and let anxiety rule her life. She was stronger than her fear.

Seeing Ryder up ahead, already settled into his spacious seat, she made her legs move and ignored the turmoil in her belly.

“Good morning, Macy,” his deep voice rumbled.

“Good morning,” she said through stiff lips.

His eyes changed, suddenly alert and focused. Had he guessed? The last person she wanted to know about her phobia was her boss. Between him being her employer, and her body’s uncontrollable reaction to his, she already felt too vulnerable around him. Handing him knowledge of her weakness would be a step too far.

She stopped at a seat away from his and put her bag down to take off her coat. But Ryder indicated the seat beside him.

“Sit with me. You can brief me on what we’ll see in Sydney.”

Macy hesitated but covered her pause by folding her bulky jacket. If she sat beside him, she might be able to conceal her fear of flying for most of the trip, but the landing would be harder to bluff. She hated landings.

“I’ve already briefed you on the trip and I can’t explain much more until we arrive in the shop space. Surely you’d like the time to catch up on reports from your other holdings?” She’d seen Bernice pack a pile of them in his briefcase.

Ryder stretched out in his seat, his long legs crossing at the ankles. “Why would I want to read reports about companies Bramson Holdings owns, when I can speak face-to-face about this one?”

Macy held back a sigh as she collected her bag and coat and moved across to the recliner seat beside him. She’d be fine. She’d covered her anxiety from the world for years, and no one had ever guessed. Why would Ryder be any different?

She settled in, buckling her seat belt firmly, then glanced across at her boss.

He watched her with his heavy-lidded gaze. “Tell me about your time in Melbourne.”

His voice, so deep and resonant, seemed to travel through her body. She’d been trying not to let it affect her in the past week—an unrealistic goal at the best of times—but now he was so near, it felt as if his voice was caressing her skin, filling her senses, stirring her blood.

In an attempt to stem the tide, she blinked slowly. “There’s nothing to tell.”

He turned in his seat, squaring his shoulders to her, a teasing glint in his eye. “I can’t believe there’s nothing. You must have something you can tell me.”

His body was close, so close, making her think of the night they kissed, and it made her a little light-headed. She could almost feel his hard chest under her palms again, his warm breath on her cheek.

She swallowed. “There is nothing about my life you would find interesting.”

“I beg to differ.” He folded his arms, waiting.

Her pulse picked up speed. How would he react if she leaned over and kissed him now? He hadn’t tried to kiss her since the night in her building, but he’d made the offer in his office that he’d be ready and waiting if she changed her mind. And every so often she’d caught him looking at her. Perhaps he might return the kiss and she could sink into the heaven she’d found in his embrace….

He still sat with his arms crossed over his broad chest, waiting, but something in his expression changed. Deepened. As if he was reading her mind. Slowly, his arms unraveled and he reached across to smooth a wisp of hair that had escaped her French twist.

The breath stalled in her lungs. Her body heated. The feel of his hand finally making contact with her skin again—one simple touch—aroused her more than any other man could achieve with a concerted effort.

For one uninhibited, perfect moment, she leaned into his palm as it lingered on her cheek. She watched his pupils dilate and his chest expand with his indrawn breath.

Then she shored up all the willpower in her possession and moved away from his hand. Ryder Bramson was dangerously attractive. She wasn’t the only one to notice—the tabloids loved to run pictures of him. What she felt wasn’t anything more than what any woman would feel sitting beside him. And her father was counting on that to help him gain a son-in-law and sell his company.

Ryder must know his own appeal to women, too. And his plan mirrored her father’s—he wanted her to marry him so he could buy Ashley International. He wouldn’t be above using his appeal when the stakes were high.

Such a simple trap.

One she couldn’t afford to fall into.

Heart still racing, Macy looked down at her lap, and smoothed her hands over her taupe linen trousers, ironing out the wrinkles from sitting. From the corner of her eye, she saw Ryder’s hand drop and she fought with herself not to reach for it, to reach for him.

Without saying a word, he leaned back into his seat, looking out the window, just as the seat belt light went on and the copilot ducked his head out the door.

“We’re ready for takeoff, Mr. Bramson.”

“Thank you, Brent,” Ryder replied.

Macy needed to get them back onto a professional footing. Needed to be able to talk to her boss without her imagination pulling her in futile directions.

She cleared her throat and grabbed the first topic that came to mind. “The retail space we’ll be seeing has only recently come onto the market.”

Ryder searched her face, his gaze resting on her mouth for a moment, then nodded. “Tell me why you think it’s better for our needs than the others on your list.”

Macy relaxed. She was back on solid ground—business. She could do this. Work side by side with a boss she was attracted to.

If she could just survive the plane trip without losing her head, she’d make it.



Ryder checked his watch. They’d be landing soon.

He’d had a fruitful discussion with Macy about potential policies and directions that Chocolate Diva Australia could take, but there had been something different about her. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on, but it was almost like she was on edge.

Had it just been from when he’d given into sweet temptation and smoothed her hair from her face, or was it more?

As they prepared to land, the seat belt sign lit up and Ryder buckled himself in. Macy had no need to—she’d been buckled in the whole journey—but she reached for the armrests. Her grip was a little tighter than necessary. Looking across at her, he saw the slightest tension in her jaw, the empty look in her eyes as she stared straight ahead. As if she was anxious but trying to cover it from him.

“Not fond of landings?” he asked.

She shrugged casually, belying the rigidity of her body. “They’re not my favorite part of the flight.”

She didn’t elaborate, and knowing Macy she’d never admit a weakness. But her body language drew him in. “Had a bad experience with a landing?”

Her eyes flicked to his then back to the front. They were starting to slowly descend now and her knuckles whitened on the armrests. “No.”

He placed his hand over hers and stroked the back with his fingers. Then something clicked in his brain. Her mother had been relatively famous, with her acting career just taking off, when she’d been killed in a plane crash. He kicked himself for not thinking ahead and connecting the dots. For not realizing this could be hard for her.

The world had seen the images of the crumpled plane, had been flooded with photos of her mother on a movie set one week before her death, and had moved on. But this was Macy’s private pain—completely removed from the public circus. He was almost reluctant to pry into something so personal. But another glance at her clenched hands and he knew he couldn’t leave her as she was.

“Your mother? “ he asked softly.

She nodded once, still staring ahead, her body radiating tension now—as if his insight had given her permission to feel the fear more fully.

He peeled her fingers from the armrest and gripped her hand tightly in his, his heart ripping open for the little girl whose mother hadn’t come home. For the woman here and now. He wanted to shield her, gather her against him and tell her she’d be all right.

But he couldn’t let her see that—his pity would only make her feel more vulnerable, a fate worse than death to Macy.

He cast around for a way to take her mind off the situation. Something … distracting. She desperately needed a life raft. No question, she’d hate grabbing onto it, but she needed one nonetheless. And he was the only one here.

He looked at the scenery out the window, and found an idea. “Have I told you about my ideal Australian holiday?”

Her eyes darted to his, confused, then back to the front of the plane.

“Obviously I’ve failed to mention it. Perhaps I’ll get time for it after we’ve finished with the business from your project.” He settled into his seat, bringing her hand—still wrapped in his—to lie on his thigh. He liked it there. “You might like to come with me. It starts with a field of grass surrounded by mountains.”

Her eyes turned to him, lingered a moment this time, a corner of her mouth twitching before she returned her scrutiny ahead.

“We’ll be there alone with a picnic basket. No one for hundreds of miles. The grass is peppered with bluebells and the sun is warm.” He tried to assess her reaction. How thick should he lay it on? “Surrounding the field is a rainforest and—”

Without turning, she interrupted, a reluctant smile on her face. “What planet has rainforest and a field of grass with bluebells growing beside each other?”

Okay. Perhaps he’d gone too far. But at least she was smiling. “I said it was an ideal holiday, Macy. Work with me.”

The tension in her shoulders relaxed a little. “Okay, keep going.”

“As I said, we’ll be alone and we’ll run through the field toward the clear lake. When we reach it we strip off to our bathing suits and dive in.”

“Do we check for crocodiles? Because if we’re in the north of Australia where a lot of the rainforest is, I think we should check for crocodiles first.” She faced him as she asked and the tension around her face had softened.

His chest swelled. It was working. He nudged a little closer and whispered, “There are no crocodiles in my lake. It’s safe and the water’s always warm.”

“Good.” Her hand released its death-grip on his to a more companionable clasp.

“We swim lazily until we’ve had enough.” This near, he could smell the scent of her skin, wanted to lean across that last space separating them and kiss her neck. Instead, he sucked in a deep breath. “Then we drag ourselves from the water and lie on towels on the grass, letting the sun dry our skin.”

The plane slowed for the final approach, engines straining and Macy jerked back into the tense position of earlier, her hand almost cutting off the blood supply in his.

“The setting looks good, but you look better in your bathing suit. It’s red.”

Ryder could see the battle in her body, between the fear and interest in his story. He decided to give his side an advantage over the enemy. Leaning that last inch, he whispered in her ear, “You roll over and run a hand down my bare back and I invite you onto my towel.”

He felt it, he was winning—there was a change in the energy her body emitted.

“Do I go?” she breathed.

“You do. And you lie so close I can’t think straight. All my mind registers is the feel of your body.”

The plane’s wheels hit the tarmac and the plane wobbled as it found its balance. Macy didn’t jerk away, instead seeming to lean into him.

“I wrap my arms around you, wanting you so badly—”

Macy turned to claim his mouth as the plane raced along the tarmac, her tongue plunging in to meet his and he matched her move for move. He clasped her face with both hands, having turned himself on as much as her with his story.

He pulled at the pins in her hair and let it tumble gloriously down around his hands. The silken feel raised his blood pressure another notch.

He tasted her lips, her mouth, not able to get enough. Both of them were jostled as the plane pulled up but he barely felt it. Barely noticed a thing other than Macy until the lights came back on and the door to the cockpit opened.

“Macy,” he said against her lips. “We need to leave.”

The fog of lust in her eyes gradually cleared and then she bit down on her swollen bottom lip.

“Thank you.” She said it quietly, but the heartfelt meaning in the two words couldn’t have been clearer.

“You’re welcome.” He stood and they both collected their carry-on luggage. He grabbed her hand and squeezed before they filed out of the plane and across the tarmac to their waiting limousine.

He knew she’d probably erect more barriers between them now he’d seen her vulnerable. But he’d be damned if he’d regret that kiss. It’d been incredible.

And he couldn’t stop thinking about how to make it happen again.



The driver Macy had engaged for their trip dropped them in front of the shopping plaza downtown, then took their bags to the hotel. A dark car sent by the security firm Ryder hired in Melbourne had met them at the airport and now pulled over to let two men out. They stood on the pavement, a few feet away. Macy’s shoulders tensed involuntarily, but she forced them to relax—far better to have the security there than not.

She edged closer to Ryder, amongst the people jostling and rushing, and pointed to the empty shop in front of them. “This is the one we’ve come to see.”

Ryder lifted his sunglasses to the top of his head and stepped forward. “Main street, ground floor, corner with double frontage. Looks ideal.”

The front was all glass, which would give great views of the chocolate products, though it had been covered in newspaper from the inside so they couldn’t see in.

A horn beeped in the traffic behind them, and Macy turned to the cars before Ryder’s voice brought her attention back to him. “Is the agent meeting us here?”

“I had the driver pick up the key before meeting us, so we can just go in on our own.” She withdrew the key from her briefcase and unlocked the door.

Ryder said a few words to the security then walked in behind her and shut the door. Abruptly, most of the sounds of the city cut off, as did the daylight. Crossing the room, she fumbled along the controls behind the counter until she found the light switches. She flicked them all on, drenching the room in bright neon lights.

She turned slowly, surveying a countertop that had been left by the previous tenant. It was an old wooden, carved bench. Unfortunately it would have to go—it didn’t match the image they were after. All their fittings would be sleek glass and chrome. She ran a hand along the corner of the countertop, feeling its solidity. Its beauty of shape. A smile curved her lips—when she was running her own company, she’d have furnishings like this.

Another car horn outside made her look up, and she realized Ryder was at the edge of the room, leaning against a wall, hands in pockets, watching her. Even from six feet away, she could see his eyes were dark. And feel his heat.

She frowned and laid her briefcase on the counter. Keeping the image of a professional career woman was paramount when she was around him. Not giving him more openings to sway her to his plans of marriage and buying her father’s company.

The kiss on the plane had been a mistake—she’d let her fear and vulnerability affect her actions. Though it had been incredibly sweet of Ryder to distract her with the story. She almost smiled at the memory, but stopped herself. He may have been sweet, but she couldn’t forget his real agenda. A business marriage.

She stepped out from behind the counter and straightened her spine. “This is the front-runner of the retail spaces we’ve investigated, primarily for the location but it also has the floor space we need, and good access for regular deliveries.”

Ryder pushed off the wall as if he’d never been staring at her and walked the floor, measuring by his stride. “It seems good. How’s the price relative to similar properties?”

“More expensive than the others I short-listed, but when the extra features are taken into account, it’s comparable.”

Ryder continued pacing the room, assessing features as he went. “What length lease are they offering?”

“When I spoke to the agent, she—”

The door opened and a flash went off to her right, interrupting her sentence. Ryder swore and strode to the door, slammed it shut and locked it. Then he moved to a side wall and pulled back a corner of newspaper to look out.

A cold shiver ran across her skin. “Is it them?”

Without looking back, Ryder nodded. “About six paparazzi. It seems our supposed romance is still big news. Must be a slow news day in Sydney.” He let out a disgusted snort then came to stand in front of her, hands on hips. “The security have moved them away from the door but they can’t remove them completely from a public street. As I see it, you have two options.”

“Go on.” Despite the nausea in her belly, Macy blinked slowly, shoring up her reserves.

“One, we walk out the door, past the cameras to the hotel. The security will shield you from the worst of it and their car will meet us at the curb.”

The room tilted. A vision of them pushing past the small throng, with repeated flashes going off, made her dizzy. She took a stiff breath. “I can do that. But I think I’ll prefer option two.”

“I ask the security to organize a diversion. We sit tight for half an hour to an hour, then we leave unnoticed.”

Her stomach clenched. Memories surfaced of being with her mother, surrounded by paparazzi. Of being stalked by them after her mother’s death, when she’d been hurting and confused and grieving.

Would he judge her for lacking fortitude? Would seeing her vulnerable twice in one day change the heat that had flared in his eyes a few moments ago? She knew he respected her professionally, and his opinion of her personally shouldn’t matter, but the thought of losing his respect sent a hollowness to her stomach. “It seems the coward’s way out.”

“No.” He dismissed her concern with a nonchalant shrug. “If they bother you, then why let them harass you when there’s another option? All it will take is one call. We don’t even have to open the door.” He flipped open his cell phone. “Your decision.”

She looked into Ryder’s eyes, seeking, but his face was relaxed, genuinely offering her a choice. “Make the call.” Relief surged through her veins as he dialed the number and made plans.

It shouldn’t matter so much that people she didn’t know would take her photo for other people she didn’t know to look at in the papers. But it did. She’d always hated being put on display, but since her mother’s death, the thought made her sick.

She heard Ryder ending his call and turned to see him pocketing his phone. “All done. Now we wait.”

She nodded, acknowledging his words, but still uncomfortable that she’d needed him to organize the distraction. But, uncomfortable or not, he’d earned her gratitude. Again.

She took a breath, waited a beat, then met his eyes. “It means a lot to me that you’ve done this. Thank you.”

He frowned. “If I wasn’t here, they wouldn’t be stalking you.”

True, but the paparazzi were the real culprits. “Even so, you’ve been very tolerant and accommodating of my anxieties today.”

He shrugged. “Everyone has fears.”

She couldn’t imagine Ryder Bramson fearing anything. He resembled an imposing warrior-leader from times past as much as the corporate giant he was.

Ryder’s gut twisted as he saw the look in Macy’s eye. He knew she was about to ask him about his own fears, and that was something he didn’t talk about with anyone.

He turned, casting an arm out to encompass the site. And neatly changed the subject. “You’ve done well to find this place. In fact, you’ve done well in every facet of the job. I’d like you to rethink your plan to leave at the end of the project.” To leave him.

She took the change in good grace, and her countenance changed to match. Smiling, she walked around the old counter and jumped up to perch on its edge.

She threw him a glance over her shoulder. “You know why I’m leaving. It has nothing to do with the job.”

He followed her around to the other side of the counter and leaned a hip against its edge. “You made the decision when you were upset—”

She opened her mouth but he held up a hand.

“—and rightly so. There were things I should have told you up front, and I regret that. But we’ve moved past it. We could have a good working relationship if you take on the Australian arm of this company.”

She smiled wryly, kicking her heels out straight ahead, her gaze focused on them. “You know, a month ago, I would have jumped at that offer. That job was everything I was working toward.”

There was something in what she said—no, in what she wasn’t saying—that drew him.

He folded his arms across his chest. “Why that job?”

She turned to smile up at him, eyes twinkling. “Shouldn’t you be extolling the advantages of the position? Talking it up?”

“I’m curious.” And he was. The drive to understand the mystery of Macy was stronger in this moment than any other concern. He could spend years asking her questions just to hear what she’d say. “There are hundreds of jobs that are suitable to your skills. Why is this one the one you wanted?”

Macy stilled. “Honestly?” she asked, her face candid, as if the enclosed room with its newspapered walls had become a haven away from the world. A place away from reality. He liked being there with her.

He swallowed. “Yes.”

“I want to be CEO, so whether the company flourishes or perishes can be attributed to me and my team. I’d rather be CEO of a midsized company than have a senior position at a large company. And I want to be CEO of a company with an annual turnover in the range we forecast for Chocolate Diva.”

“That’s quite a specific aim.”

She smiled again, acknowledging his point. “Yes, it is.”

“Have you had that goal long?”

She breathed in slowly. Too slowly. “Eight years.”

When he’d first met her, he’d found her hard to read—as he was sure she appeared to most people. But he was coming to understand the nuances of her expressions. Her gestures. The thought made his chest expand a fraction and drove him to try to understand what she was avoiding telling him.

“Why a company this size?”

She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “It seemed a good number.”

“No.” He smiled lazily. “You haven’t answered my question.”

She arched an eyebrow, obviously a little surprised. “It’s a good midsize company to prove myself in.”

“Sounds reasonable.” He pushed off the counter and moved to stand in front of her. “But that’s not it. Why?”

She frowned at his rejection of her replies. “There’s no other reason.”

He leaned one hand on the countertop either side of her, trapping her and bringing their mouths within inches of each other. “Your eyes tell me there’s more to this story,” he murmured. “Why do you want a company this size, Macy?”

Silence met his question, but he waited. Her warm, sweet breath fanned over his face, driving him a little crazy, and still he waited.

Then she replied in a rush. “Because that’s the size of my father’s company.”

It was the truth this time. He felt it in his bones. His fingers picked up a lock of hair that had escaped the confines of the twist she’d redone after their flight and toyed with it. “You want to beat him? Show you’re better than him?”

Her pupils dilated as she looked from his eyes to his mouth. “No,” she whispered.

“Tell me.”

Her pink tongue slid across her lips then she closed her eyes, as if forming the thought in her mind. When she opened them again, she was bare, vulnerable. Willingly open to him. “I want to prove to him, and myself, that I should have been his heir. He wanted a son, but he didn’t get one. And now he’s willing to blackmail you into marrying me to keep the company in the family. It never entered his mind to pass it to me.”

Ryder swore and shook his head at Ian Ashley’s stupidity. He’d assumed Macy wasn’t in line for the inheritance because she’d walked away from her family, not the other way around.

He picked up her hands, linking their fingers. “That’s rough.”

“You see my point?” She looked up at him, her wide hazel eyes searching his. She was extraordinarily pretty, but more than that pulled at him. It was as if he could see into her soul—see her need for someone to understand who she was and what she’d been through.

He squeezed her fingers. “Yes, I do. If it’d happened to me, I’d be more angry than you.”

For a split second her eyes glistened. Then she blinked twice rapidly and disentangled their hands. When she met his eyes again, all traces of emotional vulnerability were gone.

She smiled. “Thanks.”

Taking his cue from her, he stepped back, out of her personal space, but his mind couldn’t make the same disconnect. He needed to do something. Something to make this right for her.

“Marry me, and after I buy your father’s company, I’ll put you in as CEO. You’ll show everyone, including him, what a blazing good job you can do.”

Her head tipped to the side and she frowned, as if surprised by his offer. But then she shook her head. “That’s sweet, but no. I don’t want his company anymore. It’d feel tainted.”

“Okay then.” He dug his hands into his pockets, mind racing, trying to find a solution for her, and solve his issue with his father’s will at the same time. “How’s this? Marry me and I’ll give you a company twice the size of Ashley International. Lock, stock and barrel, it’ll be yours.”

She shook her head but smiled in acknowledgement of his offer as she refused it.

“You can have your career goal right now by marrying me.” He arched a brow. “What’s not to like?”

She crossed her trousered legs at the ankle, leaving her shiny black heels sitting in a sexy pose. “What meaning would it have if I don’t earn it on my own?”

There was that integrity again. Damn, it was attractive. He was starting to think he’d want to marry this woman even without needing her father’s company.

But his father’s will—and it not leaving him a clear majority of stock—was still a factor. He needed to buy Ian Ashley’s company and gain control of his board of directors. And he needed to marry Macy to buy it. He’d thought for a moment he’d found a way to entice her into the arrangement.

He’d just have to keep looking.

Three quick taps sounded on the door. The signal from the security that all was clear and a car was waiting for them.

If only his marriage was as easy to arrange as fixing this paparazzi situation had been. But his plans for this afternoon and tonight should change her mind.




Six


They’d barely been in the limousine five minutes when Macy felt it slow to a stop. The security had called the limo back early and had been waiting to bundle them inside once the coast was clear. They now followed close behind. She checked out the window and saw the wide Opera House steps beneath its distinctive sails. “This is the wrong direction. The hotel’s back in the city.”

Ryder nodded to the driver and opened his door as he said over his shoulder. “There’s something I want to do first.”

She waited until he appeared to open her door, but didn’t get out. “We have nothing on the schedule.”

“This is a personal detour,” he said as he offered her his hand.

Macy had never been a fan of detours from a set plan. Order and organization were the things that kept business and the world—including her life—operating smoothly. But this was Ryder’s business, therefore his call, so she took his hand and stepped from the limo.

Despite her ambivalence, one thing he’d said intrigued her. “Personal?”

He slipped his sunglasses from his jacket pocket, put them on and took in the expansive view. “I’ve never been to Sydney. My one previous Australian trip was also to Melbourne. There’s something I’d like to see while I’m here.”

Macy folded her arms under her breasts and studied his face. It didn’t seem right—The Machine taking time out for sightseeing. She was sure his American staff would never believe her if she repeated the story.

She found her own sunglasses in her bag and slid them on. “I wouldn’t have picked you for the tourist type.”

He raised one eyebrow. “You weren’t listening to my holiday description on the plane?”

She felt the heat rise up her chest and throat and turned away to the sails of the Opera House to obscure his view of her embarrassment. Except this wasn’t simply embarrassment, the heat flowed through her veins to every square inch of skin. Her body was responding to the mere suggestion of his kiss, whether she wanted it to or not. And she hated that loss of control.

She tilted her chin up. “Ryder, I—”

“Before you say anything,” he smoothly interjected, “I’ll show you what I have in mind.” He slipped an arm around her waist and gestured to the thirty-foot cruiser waiting at the jetty.

It was beautiful—large, sleek and white; its proud elegance easily outstripped the craft around it. But she’d be trapped alone with Ryder. Again. At the mercy of her own flawed ability to resist him. Again. The sweet pull of the heavenly and the allure of the dangerous had never been so strongly interlaced.

She took a small but symbolic step back from his arm. “I’m not sure we have time for a cruise. I have a lot of work to do at the hotel.”

He dropped the arm she’d evaded and—seemingly unconcerned by her reluctance—dug both hands into his trouser pockets. “You have to eat, and lunch has been prepared for us on board. Think of it as your lunch break.”

She looked at the gleaming cruiser. She’d never been out on the Harbour. Her trips to Sydney had always been quick business visits, but each time she’d promised herself that one day she’d explore this, the heart of Sydney. Maybe today was that day, and Ryder had handed her the opportunity. Could she do it? Ignore work for an hour or two, indulge herself, spend social time with her boss and not let it lead anywhere? She bit down on a secret smile, not willing to let it free, but ready to live in the moment for once.

A man in a white uniform waved to them from the cruiser and Ryder returned the greeting. She watched the exchange and suspicion pricked. “You already have a booking, don’t you?”

He grinned in approval as he started walking her down to the jetty, obviously aware she’d made her decision. “I made it from Melbourne.”

She shook her head as the smile she’d been restraining tried again to break free. Of course he had. This wasn’t an unplanned detour—she’d just been unaware it was part of the schedule. Even the security men, leaning back against their car, seemed to know this was the next stop.

However, that didn’t make her relax—now the question was, had he organized this to get her alone in a romantic setting? Or was it really just about him wanting a chance to see a world-famous landmark, the same way she’d been curious?

He guided her onto the cruiser and left her to speak to the captain. Macy looked around the Harbour, trying to sort out the competing thoughts tumbling around her head. She hadn’t made much progress a few minutes later when she heard Ryder’s footfalls on the deck come up behind her and then he joined her, leaning against the rail and looking over the view as the crew eased the boat out into the waterway. Despite being dressed in a handmade suit and polished shoes, he looked strangely at home. None of this made sense.

“What are you planning, Ryder?” she asked, an edge creeping into her voice.





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