The Billionaire's Marriage Mission

And then she frowned to herself. She didn’t usually make assumptions about people and yet she couldn’t seem to stop where Travis was concerned. Mentally shaking the unsettling feeling away, she finished the coffee and went into the bathroom for a shower. She’d feel better when she looked human again.

Twenty minutes later she made her way downstairs, her hair a shining curtain either side of her face and smelling of apple blossom from the shampoo she’d found in the bathroom cabinet. Without any perfume or even so much as a lip gloss in the way of make-up, it was the best she could do, she thought ruefully. In fact she felt remarkably bohemian with bare feet and a bare face, not to mention her lack of under-clothes under the jogging bottoms and T-shirt. She always dressed very smartly for work, even when she was going on site—donning wellington boots and the big shapeless cagoule she kept in the car, she made sure the clothes beneath were immaculate.

Power dressing, Keith had used to call it. Not exactly in a nasty way but with some amusement. She had countered this by insisting that in the male dominated world of her profession the image she projected was all important. Her blonde hair, blue eyes and feminine curves were enough to cause some men to doubt her brain power—she wasn’t going to dress girly-girly to give them more ammunition. Not that they ever made the same mistake twice, she thought grimly. Not by the time she’d finished with them.

In a repeat of the night before, Travis was standing at the stove as she entered the kitchen, the three dogs spread out at his feet. Beth forced her voice into bright and breezy mode. ‘That smells lovely.’

He smiled. Beth wondered why it was that when some men smiled they just smiled, and with others it was like pow. Travis’s smile was a definite pow plus.

‘I thought we’d eat in here again, if that’s OK?’ he said easily. ‘I do actually have a dining room, believe it or not, but this is more…relaxed.’

Was that another way of saying this was in no way, shape or form anything remotely resembling a date and she mustn’t get the wrong idea about his hospitality? Beth sat down at the kitchen table. If so, that suited her just fine. ‘With a kitchen as nice as this one I should think you eat in here all the time,’ she said carefully. ‘I would.’

‘Quite a bit,’ he said, forking bacon into a dish.

There was already a coffee-pot, orange juice, toast and preserves on the table. Now Travis deftly placed dishes containing scrambled eggs, sausages, bacon, fried tomatoes, hash browns and various other items of food alongside them. Beth thought there was enough to feed an army. She gazed at it in alarm.

‘Help yourself.’ He joined her at the table and immediately her senses tingled at his nearness. Which was annoying, really annoying. Especially as he was totally laid-back.

‘Thanks.’ For the last few months she hadn’t had anything of an appetite and had had to force herself to eat, often as not. It was with some surprise that she suddenly found she was quite hungry. She piled up her plate and began eating.

The food tasted as good as it looked. The sausages and bacon were crisp where they should be crisp but juicy where they needed to be. The rest of the breakfast was also perfect.

Beth had just popped the last morsel of egg in her mouth and leant back in her chair, feeling utterly replete, when she became aware that Travis was staring at her with unconcealed fascination. But not the ‘I fancy you like mad’ kind as his words informed her when he said, ‘For such a tiny little thing you can certainly pack it away when you want to, can’t you?’

She wasn’t sure if it was a compliment or an insult. Warily she said, ‘It must be the country air; I don’t usually eat much, actually. Little and often suits me best.’

‘It wasn’t a criticism.’

His smoky voice held amusement and she felt herself flush. ‘I didn’t think it was.’ She met the grey gaze head-on.

‘No?’ His brows rose mockingly.

‘No.’ It was very firm. Too firm?

‘Good.’ He clearly didn’t believe her. ‘I can’t stand women who nibble on a lettuce leaf all day, as it happens,’ he said lazily, standing and beginning to clear the empty dishes into the dishwasher. ‘Incredibly irritating.’

I bet they’re the sort you date, though, Beth thought sourly. Gorgeous model types who would look good in anything. He turned and caught the look on her face before she could wipe it away. He seemed to have a talent for catching her unawares.

Stopping what he was doing, he leant back against the worktop and folded his arms. ‘You don’t like me,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Why is that, Beth?’

She could feel her ears burning. Mortified, she mumbled, ‘I don’t know you, so how could I dislike you? And you’ve been very kind, taking me and Harvey in, feeding us and everything.’

He made a cutting motion with his hand but his voice was still contemplative rather than concerned when he said, ‘I thought last night you were nervous because of the position you were in and I could understand that. A stranger, the two of us alone here…’ The grey eyes wandered over her hot face.

In spite of her acute discomfort, Beth registered that eyelashes the length and thickness of his were wasted on a man.

‘But it’s not that, is it? It’s me. You don’t like me.’

He didn’t sound at all bothered. Pique added itself to embarrassment. ‘As I said, I don’t know you.’

He reached for a dish on the table in which three sausages remained. Giving one to each of the three dogs, he placed the empty container in the dishwasher before he said, ‘You don’t lie very well, Beth Marton.’

‘I’m not a man, am I?’ It was out before she even had time to think. Damn, damn, damn. She flushed hotly.

The piercing gaze homed in. There was an ear-splitting moment of silence before he said, very quietly, ‘I see.’

She wanted to run but she kept her voice low as she stared at him defiantly. ‘What does that mean?’

He took up the challenge immediately. ‘It’s the answer to why a young woman with your looks and brains is burying herself in the back of beyond for a while,’ he said calmly.

Arrogant, self-opinionated, supercilious swine. ‘You know nothing about me, Mr Black, so don’t pretend you do.’

‘The name’s Travis,’ he said mildly, glancing at his watch before adding, ‘And we’d better be making tracks if we’re going to meet John. I’ve dug out a pair of old flip-flops my sister left here some time ago, by the way. I presume you don’t want to wade through mud if you don’t have to?’

It was through gritted teeth that she said, ‘Thank you.’

‘You’re most welcome.’ He bowed his head, his eyes on her.

He was enjoying this. She just knew he was enjoying the whole situation. Beth rose with what she hoped was a good deal of dignity. ‘I’ll go and fetch my things from upstairs.’ She paused. Much as she hated to ask, she couldn’t very well let her pyjamas and slippers drip all over his carpet. ‘Do you have a carrier bag I can use?’ she added tightly. ‘I left my clothes in soak last night.’

‘Very wise.’ He reached into a cupboard and fetched out a bag. ‘And the flip-flops are by the front door.’

She nodded and then sailed out of the room with her nose in the air. Once in her bedroom, she closed the door and leaned against it, shutting her eyes for a moment. All this because she had made the mistake of following Harvey outside to make sure he was all right. She must have been mad. If ever a dog could look after himself, Harvey could.

Levering herself upright, she marched into the bathroom and retrieved her sodden pyjamas and slippers from the basin. They still carried a faint whiff of something unmentionable.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ she told herself out loud. ‘Just keep calm and ignore anything he might say. In a little while you’ll be back in the cottage and you need never see Travis Black again in the whole of your life.’

And that couldn’t happen a moment too soon as far as she was concerned. He might have rescued her—in a fashion—and in a way she supposed he was something of a good Samaritan, albeit a slightly sarcastic and head-on challenging one, but he was right. She didn’t like him. He was too self-assured, too high-handed, and that amusement with which he seemed to view her was downright insulting.

She was a capable and experienced professional woman who held down a good job and took care of herself just fine. Well, usually. Admittedly last night had been something of a hiccup but everyone had those now and again. He seemed to think she was an empty airhead.

She stuffed her wet things into the bag, frowning fiercely. And now she had to face this John Turner, who undoubtedly would also think she was a dizzy female who had lost the sense she was born with. Life was so unfair sometimes…

CHAPTER THREE

A ROSY-FACED LITTLE roly-poly figure of a man was waiting outside the cottage when they arrived a short time later. He raised a cheerful hand in greeting, beaming, as they exited the Mercedes, apparently not in the least put out at having his Saturday morning messed up.

‘Hello, there!’ His jovial voice matched his appearance. ‘What a to-do, eh?’ he said directly to Travis, adding, ‘and you must be Miss Marton? Pleased to meet you, m’dear.’

‘I’m sorry about this.’ As Beth shook the little man’s hand she was red with embarrassment. Not so much at having to call the estate agent out but more because she had noticed the somewhat speculative glance he had shot at Travis. John Turner had obviously put two and two together and made ten regarding her overnight stay.

‘Not to worry. It’s easy done, locking yourself out. My wife does it all the time. Now, let’s get you back inside, shall we?’ He swung round and opened the front door with the key in his hand, adding over his shoulder, ‘You coming to the football this afternoon, Travis? Looks like it’ll be a good match.’

‘Possibly.’ As John Turner stood aside for her to enter the cottage, Travis remained standing where he was.

‘Thank you for helping last night.’ Flustered, Beth snapped her fingers at Harvey, who had been sniffing round the garden as she added, ‘Would either of you like a coffee before you go?’

‘Not for me, thanks. Million and one things to do.’ The estate agent was already walking back to his car.

Beth turned to look at Travis, convinced he would want to come in and mentally willing him to say no. And then, when he did just that, she felt a totally unreasonable dart of pique.

‘If you need my services again, just don those pink silk things and wave me down,’ Travis added, deadpan, before turning and beginning to walk away.

Beth stared after him. He was going? Just like that? But then, why wouldn’t he? She had made it pretty clear she couldn’t wait to see the back of him, after all. But still…‘These clothes,’ she called after him. ‘When will you be around so I can pop them back to you after I’ve washed them?’

He turned at the gate, surveying her through slits of brilliant grey light for a moment or two, his face expressionless. ‘Don’t worry about it,’ he said lazily. ‘Sandra has umpteen pairs of jogging bottoms and T-shirts; she won’t miss those.’

They were his sister’s clothes? The fact that this gave her satisfaction was a warning in itself. ‘I couldn’t possibly keep them,’ she said primly. ‘I must drop them by at some point.’

He shrugged. ‘There’s a mail box just outside the gates for any letters and parcels that get delivered when I’m up here. It’s always unlocked. Drop them in there if you must.’ His tone stated she was being unnecessarily pedantic.

‘Right.’ She nodded briskly, masking the umbrage she was feeling at his complete disinclination to any more contact. ‘I’ll do that.’ Harvey was whining slightly at her side and she kept her hand on his collar. The dog obviously didn’t want to see Travis leave and she wouldn’t put it past Harvey to go galloping after him if she let go. ‘Goodbye, then.’

‘Goodbye, Beth,’ Travis said softly. ‘It was nice meeting you.’

The rest of the day was a definite anticlimax. It didn’t take more than half an hour to settle in to her temporary new home and, after raking out the ashes of the fire and laying a new one ready to be lit that evening, Beth took Harvey for a long walk in the woods surrounding the property.

The May day was another warm one and after a couple of hours the path they were following dropped steeply beside a tiny stream that burrowed its way out of the hillside. Beth sat on the grassy bank as Harvey cavorted in the water, his splashing offending the birds in the trees surrounding them, who showed their displeasure by giving alarm calls and the odd bout of mad fluttering.

In spite of Harvey’s antics it was very peaceful. Beth, her back resting against an ancient oak tree, allowed her mind to wander, and it was a full minute before she realised that all she was thinking about was Travis Black. Which was crazy—worse than crazy. She didn’t know what had got into her.

She sat up straight, annoyed with herself. He had been kind, she had to give him that, but the whole episode was now a closed chapter, so why was she wasting one second thinking about a virtual stranger? And a much too attractive stranger at that. Travis was the sort of man who ought to have ‘Danger to Women’ stamped across his forehead in big red letters.

Harvey decided to come and shake himself at her side in the next moment, which effectively cut Beth’s musings short, but for the rest of the walk she made sure Travis was kept firmly on the perimeter of her thoughts. It was a battle, but she managed it.

A golden twilight was scenting the air when Beth finally pushed open the gate of Herb Cottage much later that day. She was exhausted, but pleasantly so. Harvey was making it clear he felt his paws had been walked off and that he was ready for his dinner as he plodded after her.

She saw the big bunch of flowers lying on the doorstep almost immediately, her pulse quickening as she walked up the garden path. The pale pink rosebuds, freesias and baby’s breath were wrapped in cellophane and tied with a pink ribbon. The small card read, ‘A little housewarming present’. It was signed simply ‘Travis’.

She stared at the firm black scrawl, her heart thumping. He had bought her flowers. It was the last thing she’d expected after their somewhat terse parting. Why had he done that?

She opened the door, clicking the latch down once she was in the cottage so there couldn’t be a repeat of last night’s performance. Walking into the tiny kitchen, she lay the flowers on the draining board, continuing to stare at them until Harvey’s whine reminded her he was waiting for his meal.

Once the dog was fed, she dug out a vase from the bits and pieces in the cupboard under the sink and placed the flowers in water. They were gorgeous, absolutely gorgeous.

They didn’t mean anything; he was probably just being kind. She nodded at the thought. Which was fine. People were allowed to be kind without any ulterior motives, after all. These flowers didn’t mean he was interested in her. She frowned at the sweetly scented blooms as she carried the vase through to the sitting room. But his doing this was a…complication.

She plonked the vase down on the old-fashioned dresser and went to fix herself a quick meal of salad and cold meat. She ate her supper on a tray in the sitting room, staring at the flowers, Harvey sitting to attention at her feet as he eyed her last piece of home-cured ham hopefully.

The flowers didn’t mean she would necessarily see anything of Travis Black again, she told herself later as she washed the dishes before getting ready for bed. From what he’d told her, he was a busy man and time was at a premium. And, as she didn’t want to see him again, that suited her perfectly.

Nevertheless, in the short time before she drifted off to sleep, she couldn’t help anticipating the next day and whether there would be a knock at the door. And she didn’t like the way her pulse quickened at the possibility either.

There was no knock at the door, not on the following day or the subsequent ones. Travis had obviously returned to Bristol after his weekend at his bolt-hole. Beth told herself she was immensely relieved that a difficult episode had finished on a good note, and she was, in a way. She didn’t want to see Travis again—she didn’t want to get mixed up with any man again—so she couldn’t quite understand why she found him popping into her mind at odd moments.

She washed and ironed the T-shirt and jogging bottoms and packaged them up with a note thanking him for his hospitality and the gift of the flowers, depositing the parcel in the post box he’d spoken of on Saturday morning. Once that was done she felt a little better about everything. She had kept the note polite and friendly but faintly dismissive, covertly indicating she didn’t expect their paths to cross again.

As one peaceful May day after another passed, Beth found herself eating and sleeping better than she had in years. This was partly due to the peace and quiet, but also because the days were sunny and warm and she and Harvey could tramp the countryside to their hearts’ content, returning home tired and happy as evening shadows stretched across the cottage garden.

Green valleys and wooded hillsides, little grey farms and whitewashed cottages provided surroundings so different from the clamour and bustle of London that Beth felt she’d been transported to another world rather than a different part of England. She seemed to come across something enchantingly different almost every day. A buzzard soaring from a rocky crag, a brood of baby ducklings swimming in a little pool amidst the heather, ponies frolicking and chasing each other by the side of a dashing stream and the delicate pale rosettes of butterwort leaves on a green river bank.

It all worked a magic she had desperately needed. As her skin took on a golden glow from the sun and her blonde hair turned a shade lighter, so her mind was renewed. Suddenly the thought of tomorrow was exciting and pleasurable rather than something to be got through with gritted teeth and a determined smile. Here she didn’t have to pretend to anyone. She shopped locally but, apart from politely passing the time of day with the shopkeepers, kept herself to herself. In London she had been the most gregarious of souls, here she was positively hermit-like. But it was wonderful, liberating. She felt reborn.

And so the month of May passed, June coming in on the crest of a heatwave as the weather turned even warmer.

It was on the second of the month, some three weeks after she had moved to Shropshire, that Beth saw the Mercedes snaking its way past the cottage one Friday evening as she was throwing a ball for Harvey in the garden. She froze, her eyes following the vehicle as it disappeared from sight without stopping.

As far as she knew, Travis hadn’t been around since that first night. She supposed he might have been, but she hadn’t seen anything of him.

Harvey barked to remind her to continue with the game but now she did so mechanically, suddenly feeling all on edge. Which was ridiculous, plain daft in fact, but she couldn’t help it.

Had he noticed her in the garden? She became aware that she was in a pair of her oldest jeans and a thin vest top, make-upless and with her hair bundled into a high ponytail to keep her neck cool. She looked a mess.

As the realisation hit her, Beth hurried back into the house but there brought herself up short. She was not going to change or brush her hair or anything else. What on earth was the matter with her? He wouldn’t come to see her anyway.

Deliberately she made herself go into the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of wine and then walking through into the tiny back garden, which was only big enough to hold a profusion of flower-filled tubs and an old wooden bench. It was a sun-trap though, and she often spent the last daylight hours lazily watching fat honey-bees buzzing busily from flower to flower.

Harvey flung himself down at her feet and promptly started to snooze, twitching and whining in his sleep now and again as he dreamt. Beth envied his placid equanimity.

It could only have been twenty minutes later when the knock came at the front door. She couldn’t pretend she hadn’t heard it, not with Harvey waking up with a start and barking his head off. Setting her glass down, she forced herself to walk calmly into the house and through to the front door. Taking a long deep breath, she opened it. She had no doubt who it would be.

‘Hi.’ Unlike her, Travis looked unruffled and cool, his dark blue shirt open at the neck and his light cotton trousers crease-free. ‘Neighbourly visit to see how you’re doing,’ he drawled easily. ‘How are you? Everything OK?’

‘Me? Oh, I’m great, thanks.’ She knew she’d gone brick-red and it was utterly humiliating, especially in view of his aura of relaxed self-confidence. She’d just forgotten how big and attractive he was. ‘Would…would you like to come in for a minute?’ she asked reluctantly when he didn’t say anything else.

‘Thanks.’ He followed her into the cottage, Harvey bouncing about delightedly at the reunion. Immediately the cottage seemed to shrink. ‘This is cosy,’ he said, glancing around.

‘I’m having a glass of wine in the garden. Care to join me?’ Beth hoped she sounded less flustered than she felt.

‘Sounds good.’ He smiled slowly and her pulse accelerated.

She all but scampered through to the kitchen away from his disturbing presence, remembering belatedly that the bench was the only seat in the back garden and whereas it was fine for one it was a mite too cosy for two. He stood in the doorway as she found another glass and poured the wine, the piercing grey eyes on her hot face. Beth felt all fingers and thumbs.

‘Thanks.’ He took the glass and stood aside for her to go into the garden. Suddenly she seemed to have forgotten how to walk. Annoyed with herself, she led the way.

Once outside, Beth waved towards the bench. ‘Please sit down,’ she said as casually as she could, picking up her glass and perching somewhat precariously on the edge of one of the tubs of greenery opposite the bench. ‘And thanks again for the flowers,’ she added, ‘but you shouldn’t have.’

‘Shouldn’t I?’ He sat with one arm stretched along the back of the bench, one leg crossed over the other knee. It was a very masculine pose. But then Travis was a very masculine man, she thought inanely. ‘Why is that?’

‘Why…’ For a moment her brain scrambled. Then she said quickly, ‘After all you’d done to help, it should have been me buying you something to say thank you.’

He smiled, shrugging his shoulders. ‘I think not. All I did was provide a bed for the night.’

She hoped her nose wasn’t shiny but ten to one it was. It also felt a little sunburnt and was probably glowing like a beacon. She tried to ignore the effect his smoky voice had on her nerve-endings as she said, ‘Nevertheless I don’t know what I’d have done if you hadn’t happened by. It was a ridiculous position to be in. I’m not normally a fluttery type of female.’

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

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