Australia's Maverick Millionaire

Not that Clio would have invited him. He and Clio were to stay a safe distance from one another. He had got the message early. Clio was the princess. He was the pauper. Consequently they had not been allowed to grow in any way closer, though he often saw her when he visited Leo. His visits were not so frequent these days. He had reached the point early in life when he was already a millionaire a satisfying number of times over. These days he was the property man. Real estate made fortunes more than anything else short of mining and he had interests in that. The North had been enjoying a tremendous building boom. He had made the most of it, buying up broken-down properties, putting up lucrative apartments, office blocks and a new shopping mall.

Leo had financed him at the beginning. He had paid Leo back with interest. Leo Templeton had made a better life possible for him. He was acutely aware how much he owed Leo, who had stepped in after the “baby Ella” incident to take on a trusteeship, a milder form of guardianship, of him. But Leo’s granddaughter was too rare a creature to be tainted by his squalid past. Whatever residual feeling remained from that day years ago, both hid it so deep it might never be allowed to surface.

Clio had lived with her grandfather since Lyle Templeton, Clio’s father, had remarried a few years back. Clio’s mother had been killed in a yachting catastrophe when two yachts had collided at sea. Clio had been seventeen at the time, devastated by her loss and the bizarre way it had happened. They had been as close as mother and daughter could be.

There was no rapport whatever with the second Mrs. Templeton. Keeley Templeton was many years younger than Lyle, no great beauty like Clio’s mother Allegra, with her aristocratic Italian background, but she had turned herself into a glamour girl with an endless flow of small talk that was good for such functions.

Inside the mansion, the entrance hall, big enough to park several cars, was filled with people who had gone through the receiving formalities and were making their way into the reception rooms. Josh was one of the last to arrive, just as he planned. Leo, still a fine, handsome man but looking frailer every time he saw him, was standing with his beautiful granddaughter, receiving their guests as they arrived. How easy it was to see Clio had been born to wealth and privilege and a mix of only the best genes. Her mother had been a member of a patrician Florentine family.

Lyle Templeton had met Allegra when he had been visiting Italy as part of his Grand Tour. Their meeting place, the iconic Uffizi, where both of them had been contemplating Botticelli’s “The Birth of Venus”. Allegra at that time had been a very promising art student and a highly cultured young woman. She had spoken English. He’d had no Italian but they had fallen madly in love. On sight. The classic coup de foudre. Scarred as he was within, Josh knew that could happen. The sight of Clio Templeton even as a nine-year-old was graven into his mind.

“Good to see you, Josh!” Leo beamed as the two men shook hands. Leo’s pleasure was so obvious that quite a few people stopped in the middle of their conversations to wonder why the patrician Leo Templeton had taken this tall, stunningly handsome but definitely edgy young man under his wing. He might have been a gatecrasher such was their disapproval, albeit carefully hidden. No one dared to put that disapproval on plain view. No one wished to offend Leo, of course. No one wanted to offend the likes of Josh Hart.

Now they were facing each other. “Good evening, Josh.” Clio addressed him in her charming voice.

“How are you, Clio?” His eyes consumed her. That was the best part of his blue eyes. They burned, or so he’d been told, but they gave away no hint of his inner emotions. That’s what made him a brilliant poker player.

“I’m very well, thank you.” She tilted her lovely oval face up to him.

She had beautifully marked eyebrows, her dark eyes huge. She looked exquisite, the ideal model for a fine painting. He had learned from Leo that her mother had called her Clio after the subject of one of Allegra’s favourite paintings, Vermeer’s The Allegory of Painting depicting the Muse of History, Clio. With that in mind he had actually taken a side trip from Rome to Vienna to check out the painting in the museum where it was held. All in all he had spent a lot of time in art museums at home and abroad. He had made it his business to educate himself way beyond his Law-Commerce Degree, which Leo had made possible, cramming so much into a few short years, vast amounts of learning and knowledge. It amused him that he was something of a natural scholar. But the beautiful Clio was to be no part of his life. He was excluded from the Templeton ranks.

Tonight she was wearing a long satin dress in a colour that beggared description. It was neither green nor gold but a blend of the two. The plaited straps that held the bodice were knotted over her collarbone. There was another knot beneath the discreetly plunging neckline; a wide black sash showed off her narrow waist. Her wonderful sable hair was arranged with the classic centre parting and drawn back from her honey-skinned face into intricate loops. Three-tiered pendant earrings swung from her ears. He thought the stones were citrine, mandarin garnet and amethyst, probably Bulgari. She looked ravishing, a sheen all over her.

Did the excitement in her presence ever go away? He wanted no other woman but her. The one woman he couldn’t have.

He had only just moved from the receiving line into the living room that was so richly and elegantly furnished it could have featured in Architectural Digest when Keeley Templeton broke away from her group to come towards him with a show of enthusiasm that put him right on edge.

“Josh!” Her smile held the usual sexual come-on. “This is a surprise!” She laughed, going so far as to attempt to draw him into a hug, only he took her hand, holding it down firmly to her side.

“I don’t think so, Keeley.” There was a warning grate in his voice. “Your husband is over there. He mightn’t like it.”

“Probably not,” she sighed. “But you do look wonderful, Josh. I’ve never seen a man look better in a dinner jacket. Terrific line and cut, and I especially love white dinner jackets in the summer.”

“And you look quite exceptionally dolled up,” he remarked very dryly, his eyes a startlingly blue in the golden tan of his face.

“Don’t you like it?” She looked down at herself, then made a little face. She was wearing a short, strapless red dress sewn with crystals all over the bodice. It had cost the earth, and it showed off her legs, which were good. “Why don’t you come join us?” she invited, glancing back to where her husband and a group of friends were in conversation. “You must want a drink.”

Josh looked over her bright chestnut head with its fashionable blonde streaks, taking note of the people in the room. Many an overt stare shifted immediately when he focused on them. He knew he had a jittery effect on a lot of people. “Why is that?” he asked. “Why must I want a drink?”

Keeley gave a playful moan. Josh Hart fascinated her. She knew for a fact he fascinated every woman in town. The guy was drop-dead sexy and incredibly handsome, though strange to say he appeared uncaring about it. “I guess that’s what I love about you, Josh.” She knew her near-uncontrollable lust for him was leaving her wide open to trouble. “You’re so difficult.”

“You’re sure you don’t mean I don’t play games, Keeley?” He was getting ready to walk away from her. He knew Keeley was attracted to him. Big time. She wasn’t doing terribly well at hiding it. He knew perfectly well people had affairs in the town; quite a few here tonight, even standing in the same group as if they were all good pals. The hypocrisy of it all! Keeley was married, and to Clio’s father, who was a fine-looking man, if a real snob. That alone should have given her pause and made her behave. Probably she’d already had a drink or two. Lyle Templeton was, in fact, watching their exchange with an eagled-eyed intensity just short of a glare, his tanned cheeks turning red at what could have been construed as a public humiliation.

“God, I wish you would,” Keeley leaned closer towards him, helpless beneath the force of attraction he exuded.

“Unless you want me to stomp hard on your pretty toes, you’d better walk away, Keeley,” he warned. No use playing the gentleman with Keeley. “I definitely don’t want trouble.”

“As if you couldn’t handle it!” She gave him a conspiratorial wink, a little unsteady on her expensive red and black stilettos.

Reluctantly he put a steadying hand to her elbow. “Walk away now, Keeley.”

“Why, when I find it so much more exciting talking to you? Why don’t you like me, Josh?” she crooned, her expression utterly exposed. “Is it because people are watching?”

“Don’t be such a fool,” he bit out, the muscles along his sculpted jaw clenching. This wasn’t a staged performance. Keeley really did find him thrilling, God help her.

Across the room Clio saw Josh’s blue eyes start to smoulder and burn. She knew he had long since learned how to withhold any powerful bouts of anger but she could see he was turning edgy. It was there in his frozen stance, the rigid set of his chiselled jaw. She was something of an expert on Josh’s body language. Even the squaring of his wide shoulders was ominous. Keeley was being sickeningly indiscreet, making a fool of her father. Soon everyone would know how infatuated she was with Josh. That presented a whole raft of complications. The attraction concerned her greatly, though she understood Josh’s magnetic pull. With Keeley’s short scarlet dress and her palpable air of excitement, she gave the impression she was about to explode.

Since Keeley had married her father she had started to dress up to the nines. In some ways she had become a different person, assuming a softer, more polished appearance. Clio realized with a shiver of apprehension there was the potential for disaster here. Keeley was two people. The first, her father’s wife; the other, a woman, Clio suspected, who had a largely unfulfilled sexual appetite. And that appetite was for Josh.

Keeley had chosen her father for his money and the position it afforded her. The marriage wasn’t working out. Should anyone be surprised? Only Clio and her grandfather knew Keeley had claimed to have fallen pregnant before the marriage. Unintentionally, of course. Her grandfather had urged a DNA test, proving paternity. Her father wanted no part of that. The child was his. He would take full responsibility. Only the child turned out to be either a secret miscarriage or a phantom pregnancy. Keeley Bradley had been no inexperienced young woman. She had been in her late twenties at the time of the marriage, a trail of lovers behind her.

After her mother had drowned, her father, hitherto so happy, had turned into a sad, solitary man, who would forever mourn the loss of his wife. He had broken down at the funeral, sobbing out his wish to have drowned with her. But here had been a man of forty-five, in the prime of life. After a decent period of time, he had been advised by everyone who cared for him to try to move on. Allegra was gone. He had the rest of his life to live out. His response?

“Move on? I don’t know what that means, Clio. I’m lost in limbo with little hope of getting out.”

Much as her father loved her, Clio knew she was no replacement for her mother.

No one was.

Ironically Keeley Bradley had entered their lives at her father’s 50th birthday party, given by Leo for a small group of family and close friends. Keeley had gained entry by virtue of partnering Clio’s playboy cousin, Peter, when his previous date had had to cancel with a migraine. Keeley was a very provocative young woman and she had looked on serious wealth for the first time. She had gone after Lyle with the full force of her sexuality. Her father in the end was only human. Women could and did use sex as a weapon. Keeley had brought her father down.

Her movements so flowing they hid all sense of urgency, Clio skirted various groups with a smile and a few words, arriving at Josh’s side within seconds. She placed her hand on the sleeve of his white dinner jacket, feeling the hard musculature beneath the cloth. “Excuse me, won’t you?” She glanced at her stepmother, who stared back at her with a battery of expressions, dislike predominating. “I wonder if I could speak to you for a moment, Josh?”

He felt a certain degree of contempt for himself as sensations crashed around inside his chest. She had only put her hand on his arm yet it had much the same effect as a charge of electricity. Apart from the kiss on his cheek he had received from her a lifetime ago, this was the first time she had actually touched him, albeit through his dinner jacket.

You’re one pathetic guy!

Yet his response couldn’t have emerged from a smoother or more in-control mouth. “Why, of course.” He knew Clio did everything graciously, but he saw her sudden appearance for what it was. Diplomatic intervention. Clio had the art of creating a serene atmosphere in her grandfather’s mansion. And she was nobody’s fool. She had very accurately deduced how he was feeling, how her stepmother was looking for a bit of dangerous sex on the side. Apparently he qualified. It was Clio’s job to keep watch.

She led him through one of the sets of doors into the cooling, star-studded night. The French doors opened out onto a wide covered verandah with a polished teak floor. Beyond that, the broad floodlit terrace with acres and acres of magnificent tropical gardens before them were also illuminated. The rhythmic splash of the waterfall into the lake carried clearly on the night air. A caressing breeze blew, bringing with it the intoxicating scent of gardenias. As Clio moved she signalled one of the young uniformed waiters who brought out champagne on a silver tray to them.

“Have one, please, Josh,” she said, as far away from him as the stars in the sky. “I don’t suppose it’s your drink of choice?”

He removed a frosted flute from the tray, passed it to her, felt the shock waves all over again as her fingers fleetingly touched his. “Drink of choice? There’s not much I don’t like in the way of alcohol, Clio, except maybe rum. Red wine I very much like. Champagne, especially when it’s French, like now,” he commented dryly, on the Bollinger. “It’s the only white wine I really like. I’m not one of the Chardonnay set.”

“Good. Neither am I. So drink it.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Don’t do that, Josh,” she begged. No one could call Josh an easy person. He had such an edge.

“Well, you are far, far above me, aren’t you?” he said with a faint taunt, thinking he was living proof that a strong man could be held in thrall by a woman.

She gave him a long look out of her lustrous dark eyes. “You’ve come a long way since you were a boy, Josh. False modesty must sound ridiculous even to yourself. My grandfather thinks the world of you. He gets prouder and prouder every day. You’re a big success story, Josh. You’re the sort of grandson Leo wanted but never got.”

“He got someone far better. He got you.”

She shrugged her bare shoulders. Her skin was a lovely even honey gold, showing her Italian heritage. “He loves me as I love him. But I’m a woman. Men like my grandfather needed sons, grandsons. Leo believes men are unquestionably the natural-born leaders. Sons take over and carry on the family businesses. They build on already amassed fortunes.”

“There are plenty of brilliant businesswomen,” Josh freely acknowledged. “I’ve met a few over the last couple of years, as sharp as tacks.”

“You’re a different breed, Josh,” she sighed. “And you’re young.” Josh was only twenty-eight, though he appeared older he had such presence.

“So what are you saying here, Clio? You have issues?”

“Of course I do,” she said.

“But you’re an associate in Templeton & Company. One day you’ll make full partner.”

“And be assured of a sizzling career? I don’t think so. Much as my grandfather and my father love me, they want to keep me away from all unpleasantness, as if I’m a little girl. I handle the genteel side of business. Wills, conveyancing, minor disputes, that sort of thing.”

He knew it was true. “Still, I understand their motivation. In a way. You’re very precious to them. Jimmy is not up to the mark?”

“Jimmy tries. He’s a very different person from his father,” she said, taking a sip of champagne as though she needed a pause.

“So Vince Crowley is the pick of the bunch? How bright is that? Second rate?”

“You’re not an avid fan of the Crowleys?”

He looked intently into her beautiful face. “And you are? You’d need at least a category-five cyclone to put wind beneath Jimmy’s sails.”

“I suppose.” She had to laugh.

“And all the Crowleys think Leo’s beautiful granddaughter is within reach.” His loathing of the very idea momentarily got the better of him.

“Wishful thinking, I’d say. You’re taking a quantum leap, aren’t you, Josh? Our rules of engagement have hitherto prohibited much in the way of personal remarks.”

“Your decision, wasn’t it?” he answered sardonically.

“Did it seem like that to you?” It hadn’t been her decision at all. Her father only a few years back had gone so far as to forbid her to get anywhere near Josh Hart.

He’s a very damaged young man. And dangerous. I’ve read his case file. It was on Dad’s desk. Did you know he beat one of his minders to a pulp?

He probably deserved it, she had said at the time.

That hadn’t gone down well with her father, who seemed truly fearful of any connection between her and Josh. It was bad enough for her father that Leo had become Josh’s mentor. Clio suspected her father, whether he realized it or not, was jealous of Leo’s affection and high regard for that problematic young man.

“Well?” she repeated, “did it seem like that to you?”

“Very much so.” Josh’s eyes seemed fixed on a distance far beyond the present.

“That’s how screwed up our lives have been,” she sighed.

He stared at her, the master of deadpan, yet he felt consternation underneath. “Am I supposed to make a comment on that?”

“Why not? You’re allowed to. Your early life was hard, Josh, I could never know how hard, but these days as a highly successful businessman you’ve gained a reputation for honesty and integrity. You always were smarter than the rest of us,” she added drolly.

“You learn a lot of skills in juvenile detention,” he told her very bluntly.

“How to beat someone up?”

His blue eyes were like missiles programmed to make a direct hit. “Now why aren’t I shocked? You’ve been reading my files, Clio.”

“No, no!” Rapidly she shook her head. Not that she hadn’t wanted to. “That would be a massive infringement of privacy. Leo definitely wouldn’t have approved.”

“So who was it, your dad? Your father would love me to disappear overnight. Why is that, do you suppose?” he asked, knowing the answer full well.

“General over-protectiveness. Even when you know someone loves you, you don’t want them to watch your every move. Dad hated it when I moved out. But I couldn’t live with Keeley. I dislike her intensely and the feeling is mutual. As for Dad, he thinks there’s a worrying connection between the two of us. A bond that was forged years ago.”

“Wasn’t it?” he asked, without missing a beat. “I was your hero for a day.”

She waited for a moment, not even certain what to say. From that day on Josh had found a place in her heart and mind. “What I thought of you hasn’t changed, Josh. You cover up what you feel. I cover up what I feel. It’s safer that way.”

“For whom, exactly?” he asked flatly. “Your family, the entire community. I’m still the bad boy in town. That won’t change.”

“It won’t if you don’t let it.”

“Get real, Clio!” he scoffed. “Anyway, I’m in no rush to reassure people I don’t have any respect for or interest in. Maybe you can tell me why Jimmy Crowley always looks like the cat that’s got the cream?”

“Sheer bravado!” she said. “Poor Jimmy has grown up terrified of his grandfather and his father.”

“At least he shows some smarts. Old Paddy is an out-and-out villain.” Josh voiced his contempt. “As for Vince, he’s Mr Nice Guy in public—just look at the way he’s acting back there in the house. All buffed up, big white smile, dense hair, rocking back on his evening shoes, the extravagant bonhomie! I’m certain he’s a very different character at home. Susan Crowley with all the forced smiles. Poor woman can’t open her mouth without his consent.”

“Tell me about it,” she said, hesitating a moment. “I haven’t spoken to anyone about this, but Susan has approached me to represent her in a divorce action.”

Josh snapped to full attention “What? How can you do that, Clio? Vince is a full partner in the law firm. You’re an associate. Major conflict of interest surely?”

“I’m thinking of going out on my own.”

His broad forehead knotted. “You’re serious?”

“About time,” she said briefly. “I’m only an ornament where I am.”

He couldn’t argue with that. “And you’ve discussed this with Leo?” She couldn’t have. Everyone in the town knew Leo had his beautiful granddaughter on a pedestal. Untouchable. Far from harm’s way.

“No.” She faced him directly. The exterior lights gilded her flawless skin and added lustre to the fabric of her lovely gown. ‘You’re the first to know. I’m discussing it with you because I trust you, because you’ve seen so much of life, so much cruelty both hidden and on show, you would know where I’m coming from. I suspect Susan Crowley has endured hell.”

“I believe you.” Josh jammed his hands in his trouser pockets so he couldn’t reach for her. All his feelings for her, deep and romantic as they were, had to be kept under wraps. “What I don’t get is she has a son to defend her. What sort of a gutless wonder is he? No one would have hurt my mother with me there.”

Clio shook her head. “I’m sure he doesn’t physically abuse her.”

“You can’t know that. But I suppose he’s not that stupid,” Josh gritted out. “There are all kinds of abuse. Susan Crowley’s kind would probably be mental and emotional abuse. Crowley is one of those men who have to have total sway over the women in their lives.”

“Exactly.”

Josh lowered his resonant voice. “Leo will never agree,” he warned her.

“Would that I were a grandson!” Clio raised her slender hands, palms up. A gesture of frustration.

“I’m just so happy you’re not!” The words sprang from his mouth.

She turned to stare at him out of her lustrous dark eyes. “Do you mean that, Josh, or was that the sort of answer men come up with?”

He shrugged. “Make what you will of it.”

“Now, don’t get angry with me, Josh.” She surrendered to her own sublimated longings. She touched his arm as if in conciliation.

“Please don’t equate me with other guys you know, Clio,” he said, staring down at her elegant, long-fingered hand. “You’re a beautiful, clever woman, a smart, skilful lawyer. You’re the one with the empty words. You wouldn’t want to be a man.”

“Of course I don’t,” she admitted, removing her hand. “I’m only pointing out that in my family it would make things so much easier if I were. Both Leo and Dad were against me studying law. An arts degree would have done nicely. It’s okay for you, Leo’s brilliant protégée. Not all that suitable for Leo’s clever granddaughter. It’s no secret I don’t need to work. I could devote myself to charitable work and good deeds. The only trouble is I want and need to use my brain. I need to make my own money, live my own life. Find personal fulfilment.”

“You won’t find it with Jimmy Crowley.”

The heat and energy level between them was rising. To an onlooker, and there were plenty, they were a study in contrasts: Clio, a beautiful young woman with her warm Mediterranean colouring; Josh, the very picture of the classic blue-eyed blond alpha man. “Don’t push it, Josh,” Clio said. It was her turn to warn him.