The Ruthless Billionaire’s Redemption

Don’t miss a second chance to enjoy this bestselling story from Sandra Marton!

Beauty who defied the beast!

An invitation to France is the fresh start Danielle needs. But throwing off the shackles of her old life and asserting her independence proves difficult in the presence of formidable tycoon Lee Bradford.

The injury that ended his racing career has left Lee dark and brooding. Danielle is a breath of fresh air, but her innocent spirit can only be tainted by his damaged soul. Should he fight their attraction—or will Danielle be the one to redeem this ruthless billionaire?

Originally published in 1990 as Garden of Eden.

The Ruthless Billionaire’s Redemption

Sandra Marton

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CONTENTS

Cover

Back Cover Text

Title Page

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

DANIELLE wondered if the man was watching her. She had the feeling he had been, ever since he’d entered the first-class lounge. She’d been alone and, when the door had swung open, it had been natural to glance up from her book and look at the new arrival. Having company had seemed a welcome prospect.

But she hadn’t expected anyone like him. Tall, broad-shouldered, he had the kind of rugged good looks that Danielle had only before seen on the movie screen. He looked nothing like the weary, middle-aged businessmen travelling on expense accounts her friend Ginny had sworn were the only people who used the airlines’ private lounges between flights.

‘Look,’ Ginny had said patiently, ‘you have a two-hour layover between planes. Why should you sit in a noisy terminal all that time while some guy who sells widgets relaxes in style? I have a friend who’s a flight attendant. He can get you into the VIP lounge.’

Danielle had protested, saying that her discount ticket on Air France hardly entitled her to such perks. She would feel out of place, she’d told Ginny. But her friend had been determined.

‘Jack says it’s no problem. And you’ll probably be all by yourself anyway. After a while, you’ll be dying for company.’

Ginny had been right. The lounge had turned out to be big, handsomely furnished—and as impersonal as a dental surgery. Danielle drank more coffee than was good for her, read a glossy fashion magazine until her eyes felt glazed, and kept glancing at her watch, as if she could somehow will the time to move faster. But she never did resolve the feeling of being out of place.

That was why she felt so uncomfortable now.

Her first thought, when she’d seen the man, had been that he belonged here and she didn’t. And then something had happened, something she still couldn’t understand.

His eyes—so blue they were almost violet—had met hers. Suddenly, the room had seemed to shimmer with electricity. Danielle had heard the racing beat of her own heart, and then the man had smiled, a private little tilt of his finely sculpted mouth that had sent colour flooding into her face.

Danielle had wrenched her head away, forcing herself to stare blindly out of the window, and finally she’d heard the soft sound of footfalls as he’d crossed the room and then the soft shift of leather as he’d settled into a chair.

Silence had fallen around her again and the moments had dragged by while she’d tried to decide what to do next. Her impulse had been to bolt out of the door to the public lounge. But that was silly. There was no reason to run—it was just that, every few minutes, she felt the nape of her neck tingle with the awareness of his eyes, felt her blood surge wildly beneath her skin. And then her pulse would begin to quicken until it drummed so loudly she was certain he could hear it.

All of which was, of course, ridiculous. It was just her imagination—there was no reason to think he was looking at her. He was probably reading a newspaper or dozing or—

‘Excuse me.’ She looked up, startled. The man was standing beside her, holding a newspaper in his hand and smiling. ‘I was wondering—do you have the correct time? My watch seems to have stopped.’

‘It’s five past seven,’ Danielle said, looking pointedly from him to the large clock on the wall.

His eyes followed hers and his smile broadened. ‘Now, how could I have missed seeing that?’ She said nothing, and he put his hand on the chair beside hers. ‘May I?’

She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. ‘If you like.’

Their eyes met as he sat down and she looked away quickly, bending her head over the book in her lap, staring at it, willing herself to read it. But the print blurred before her eyes. She heard the rustle of paper. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see that he was absorbed in the news.

Danielle stared at the book again, trying to get the jumbled letters to make sense. What on earth was the matter with her? The man seated next to her was good-looking, yes. But she’d seen good-looking men before. And he was flirting—she was certain of it. Well, so what? Men had flirted with her before. Sometimes, it was even fun to flirt back. Just a little, of course: a smile, perhaps even a brief conversation, and then you both went on your way.

But there was something different about this man. He was nothing like the men she knew back home. He was more worldly, she could see that at a glance. And then there was the way he looked, that taut body and hard, handsome face and—

‘Are you taking the non-stop to Nice?’

She looked up. He was smiling politely, and his words were polite, too. But there was something else in those blue eyes, something that made her breath catch. Danielle touched her tongue to her lips which felt, suddenly, as dry as the desert.

‘Yes,’ she said.

He nodded. ‘Me, too. Are you on vacation?’

‘Yes.’ Was this one stilted word all she could manage?

‘Have you been to the Riviera before?’ She shook her head and he smiled. ‘You’ll love it. It’s crowded this time of year, but there are some out-of-the-way spots the tourists haven’t found yet.’ His eyes swept over her face. ‘Where are you staying? Perhaps we could—’

‘No,’ she said quickly. His eyebrows rose and, to her horror, she felt a blush spread across her cheeks. ‘I mean, I’m not really on vacation. I—I’ve promised to do some work while I’m away, and…’

Oh, God! He was laughing at her. Well, why wouldn’t he? She was making a fool of herself, dammit—or he was. Yes, that was it. He knew he was making her uneasy and it amused him.

Enough is enough, she thought, drawing herself up, and from some inner reserve she dredged up a cool smile. ‘Excuse me,’ she said politely, ‘but I’d like to finish my book.’

She looked down at the book as if she were about to do just that. She couldn’t read a word, of course, she was too frazzled. But at least she’d managed to silence him…

He laughed softly. ‘Can you really do that before our flight is called?’

Danielle blinked, then stared at the book in her lap. She had it open to the first chapter, but the book was easily three hundred pages long.

Heat rushed to her face again. OK, she thought, OK, that was it. There was another half hour to go before boarding, and she wasn’t going to sit here and provide sport for some jaded jet-setter.

She looked away from that smug twinkle in his eyes and slipped her shoulder bag over her arm. Carefully, she tucked her book into the pocket of her carry-on, then rose from her chair. All she had to do was walk across the lounge, and—

‘Miss?’

She jumped as his hand fell lightly on her shoulder. How had he moved so quickly? And so silently. But here he was, standing beside her. He was still smiling, but now it was slow and sexy and very, very knowing.

‘I didn’t mean to startle you. But I thought—’

‘You thought wrong,’ she said. Her voice was cold, despite the sudden race of her heart. ‘Now, if you’d step aside…’

His smile became a grin. ‘No problem,’ he said easily. ‘Except that you’ll have a tough time getting on the plane without this.’

Danielle stared at his outstretched hand. ‘What is…?’

‘I think it’s your boarding pass.’ He laughed at the look on her face. ‘Go on, look at it and see for yourself.’

She hesitated, then took the envelope from him and peered at it. He was right, it was her boarding pass. But how—?

He smiled. ‘You dropped it when you stood up,’ he said, as if he’d read her thoughts.

Danielle swallowed. ‘I didn’t…’ Their eyes met, and she swallowed again. ‘Thank you,’ she said stiffly.

‘Thank you? Is that all you can manage after what I’ve done?’

She stared at him. ‘What—what do you mean?’

He smiled again. ‘I won’t feel thanked until you have a drink with me.’

‘No,’ she said. ‘I—I can’t. My flight—’

‘Our flight won’t be boarding for another half hour. We’ve plenty of time.’

She shook her head. ‘Thanks for the offer, but—’

‘Coffee, then. Or tea.’

‘No. No, I—I don’t want anything, thank you. I just…’ This was ridiculous, she thought. He’d reduced her to sounding like an idiot. ‘Goodbye,’ she said, and before he could answer she hurried past him, pushed open the door, and stepped into the corridor.

She let out her breath as the door swung safely shut behind her. Her knees felt like jelly, and she sagged back against the wall. What a stellar performance that had been! She’d acted like a schoolgirl. No, not even that. The giggling teenage girls in her senior French class would have handled themselves better than she’d just done.

With a sigh, she gathered up her things and made her way through the terminal to the public lounge. She’d felt out of place in the VIP lounge, that was the trouble. The stranger had belonged there, not she. This wasn’t a good beginning, she thought glumly. If she felt out of place now, what was going to happen when she got to France? Here she was, off to spend the summer with a bunch of people she had about as much in common with as—as she had with that man.

God. It was going to be a disaster.

There was a vacant seat at the far end of the lounge, and she sank into it and put her carry-on at her feet. ‘Be sure and send me a postcard the minute you get to Nice,’ Ginny had said, but why wait that long? She could compose the card in her head this very minute.

Dear Ginny, I’d like to strangle you for talking me into this.

Danielle sighed wearily. Be honest, she told herself, it wasn’t Ginny’s doing any more than it was anyone else’s—except her own. Oh, she’d protested a lot. But the truth was that her fate had been sealed five days before, when Val had first telephoned. Her cousin’s offer had just been too hard to resist.

The phone had rung in the middle of the night, awakening Danielle from deep sleep. The test papers she’d marked and left on her night table had slid to the floor as she groped groggily for the instrument. When she’d finally found it and brought it to her ear, the tinny voice on the line was almost drowned out by the heavy crackle of static.

‘Hello?’ she said hoarsely. ‘Hello? Who is this?’

‘Danni? It’s me, Val. Can you hear me?’

Danielle sat up quickly, as wide awake as if she’d been doused with cold water. She switched on the lamp and stared at her bedside clock. Five a.m., she thought, and her stomach knotted with alarm.

‘What’s wrong, Val? Has Aunt Helen had another attack? Did Uncle John—?’

Impatience coloured her cousin’s voice. ‘For goodness’ sake, Danni, don’t be so melodramatic. Mom’s fine. Does something have to be wrong for me to call you?’

Danielle sank back against the pillows. ‘It’s five in the morning,’ she answered. ‘The last time I heard from you was—what? Four months ago? Six? You sent me a card from Majorca, I think it was.’ Her voice grew dry. ‘You can hardly blame me for being a little surprised.’

‘I just wanted to say hi, Danni. I guess I forgot about the time difference, though.’ Val’s voice grew silky. ‘I think of you a lot, even if sometimes I do forget to call. Aren’t you my favourite cousin?’

Danielle sighed. ‘Val…’

‘You are, aren’t you? My favourite cousin?’

It was impossible not to smile. ‘I’m not just your favourite cousin, I’m your only cousin,’ Danielle said, falling easily into the old childhood routine.

Both women laughed and suddenly the static faded, as if their shared laughter had cleared the air.

‘How have you been, Danni?’

‘Fine. How about you?’

‘Oh, I’m terrific. Busy, too. I’ve been everywhere the past few months, did Mom tell you?’

‘Mmm. I spoke with Aunt Helen a couple of weeks ago. She said you’d been to Rome and to London on modelling assignments.’ Danielle smiled as she pushed the tumble of light brown curls from her face. ‘Lucky you.’

‘Lucky me is right. Just wait until you hear where I am now.’

‘Yes, you said something about a time difference. Are you in Europe?’

Valerie laughed softly. ‘Mom says you’re still teaching French at Taft High. Is she right?’

‘What else would I be doing? But what does that have to do with—?’

‘Where’s the one place on earth you’d rather be than anywhere else, French teacher?’

Danielle’s eyes widened. ‘You mean—Val, are you really in France?’

‘That’s where I am, all right. I’m on the Côte d’Azur, in a little town just outside Nice. Are you green with envy?’

‘I will be if you tell me you’re there on vacation,’ Danielle said, sighing. ‘At least tell me you’re working hard—if that’s what you can call it when you model gorgeous clothes for a famous couturier.’

Her cousin laughed. ‘Didn’t Mom tell you? I’m not modelling any more. Somehow, they just got around to realising I’m only five feet eight.’ She paused. ‘I’m here with a film company.’

Danielle sat up and switched the phone to her other ear. ‘A film company? Don’t tell me you finally landed an acting role, Val! Oh, I’m so happy for you. I know how hard you—’

‘I’m not exactly in the film, Danni.’

Danielle frowned. ‘What kind of job do you have, then?’

‘Well, see, I heard about this film Barney Wexler was casting, and I thought I’d have a go at it. I’d met Barney a few years ago, when I was doing a charity fashion show in LA, and—’

‘I thought you just said you weren’t in the film.’

‘I’m not.’ Valerie’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, just as it had when they were children. ‘But I’ve got my foot in the door. I wangled a job as Barney’s secretary.’

The thought of Valerie, who didn’t know a typewriter from a typesetter, working as secretary to a film producer made Danielle laugh aloud. ‘Come on, Val, don’t try to kid me. I know better.’

Valerie hesitated. ‘Well, actually, Barney didn’t hire me to do a whole lot of secretarial stuff. I’m more of an administrative assistant. You know, I set up his appointments, arrange his day…’ She hesitated. ‘And I guess you could say I’m his liaison to the French-speaking crew members.’

Danielle blinked. The only thing more outlandish than imagining her cousin as a secretary was imagining her as an interpreter. ‘His what?’ she said slowly.

‘His liaison. Well, only in day-to-day stuff on the set. I type up notices and post them, that kind of thing. Barney has a French guy for all the rest, to deal with the officials and the townspeople and…’

It was hard to know whether to laugh or cry. ‘But you don’t speak French,’ Danielle said gently.

‘I studied it, the same as you,’ Valerie said defensively. ‘Well, you were better at it than I was, sure, but…’

Danielle shook her head. Amazing, she thought. Val hadn’t changed a bit over the years. When they’d been teenagers, she’d managed to talk her way into and out of almost everything. It was how she’d got Danielle to do most of her homework and chores.

But this little escapade took the cake. Val, acting as liaison to French-speaking crew members on a film set? It was impossible. It was—

‘… as good as you ever were, Danielle. Right?’

Danielle cleared her throat. ‘I’m sorry, Val. Did you ask me something?’

‘I asked if you still spoke French as well as you always did. But you must, if you’re teaching it.’

‘I suppose. But what—?’

Her cousin let out her breath. ‘Do you know, we’ve been on location almost a week now,’ she said. ‘And I just keep thinking about you, and how much you’d love this place.’

Danielle sighed. ‘You’re right. I told you, I’m green with envy. What’s the name of the town you’re staying in?’

‘Ste Agathe. It’s in the mountains.’

Danielle closed her eyes, visualising the rocky escarpments rising behind the little villages that dotted the golden Mediterranean coast. ‘It must be lovely,’ she said softly. ‘I wish I could—’

‘You can,’ Val said quickly. ‘That’s why I called. I want you to come and spend your summer vacation with me.’

Danielle sat bolt upright. ‘What did you say?’

‘I said I’d like you to vacation here, in Ste Agathe. Won’t that be terrific?’

The offer stunned her. No word from Valerie for months, and now, suddenly…

‘Danielle? Do I have my timing right? School’s almost out, isn’t it?’

Danielle touched her tongue to her lips. ‘Yes. It ends Friday. But—’

‘Please, say you’ll do it.’ Valerie’s voice rose with excitement. ‘Just think—you can see the Côte d’Azur and the Riviera, you could even go to Paris for a couple of days, and it won’t cost you a penny.’ She laughed. ‘Well, not much more than a penny. You’d have to foot the side trips and your fare. But the rest would be free. You’d have an all-expenses-paid summer here.’

Danielle laughed shakily. ‘Val, listen, I can’t just—’

‘The company’s put us all up—I have two rooms in a beautiful old auberge, it’s more than big enough for the both of us. And I can’t even put a dent in my per diem meal allowance. Come on, Danielle, say you’ll do it. We’ll have such fun together—it’ll be like old times.’

Like old times. Danielle’s cramped bedroom seemed to shimmer in the pre-dawn greyness. For a moment, the pine-panelled walls glowed with a pale pink light, the dark furniture turned gold and white, and the room was transformed into the one she’d shared with Valerie after Aunt Helen and Uncle John had taken her in following the deaths of both her parents in less than a year.

‘You girls are sisters now,’ Aunt Helen had said, clasping their hands together. ‘Won’t that be lovely?’

But they’d barely been friends. Not that Danielle hadn’t tried. Always a shy child, she had been devastated by the sudden loss of her parents, and she’d longed to get close to her beautiful cousin. But they had been worlds apart. At twelve, Val had been caught up with boys and clothes and make-up; Danielle had been too shy for boys and too plain to worry about make-up and clothes. In fact, the only thing they’d really had in common, aside from their shared bedroom, had been their classes and their chores, and eventually it had been Danielle who’d borne the responsibility for most of those.

‘Danielle? Danielle—for goodness’ sake, have we got a bad connection or something? I can’t hear you at all.’

Danielle blinked and swung her legs to the floor. ‘Thanks for asking me, Val,’ she said slowly. ‘But I really don’t think—’

‘Come on, say you’ll come.’ Val’s voice grew soft. ‘Aren’t you my favourite cousin?’

‘I’m not just your favourite cousin,’ Danielle answered automatically, ‘I’m your only—’

That’s right. You are. And it’s time we spent some time together, the way we used to.’

Danielle drew a breath. ‘Val?’ she said slowly. ‘Is there some kind of problem there? I mean, is something wrong?’

‘For heaven’s sake, nothing’s wrong. Haven’t I already said that? Mother is fine. Her latest tests were all negative. Daddy’s fine, too. I just called because you’re my favourite—’

‘Come on, Val. What is it?’

There was a brief silence, and then the whisper of Val’s transatlantic sigh. ‘There is a little favour you could do for me if you came for a visit. You see, somehow or other, Barney—Mr Wexler, my boss?—well, somehow he got the idea I speak French better than I really can. I mean, he deals with a lot of French people here.’

‘I thought you said all you had to do was post notices.’

‘Well, that’s what I thought. But other things keep cropping up, and Barney’s interpreter isn’t always here. Sometimes he’s in Nice on business, or—’

‘Did you tell this Mr Wexler you were fluent in the language?’

There was another silence. ‘No,’ Val said finally, ‘not exactly. I just told him the truth, that I’d done very well in my French classes.’

Despite herself, Danielle began to laugh. ‘Val,’ she said patiently, ‘I did very well, remember? You used to copy my homework. And I drilled you like crazy before each exam.’

‘And you could do that now,’ Val said eagerly. ‘Well, not drill me, but you could help me deal with some of the office work. And you could field some of the calls that come in—honestly, French people talk a hundred miles an hour. It’s so hard to understand a word they say.’ Her voice softened. ‘Mom thinks it’s a terrific idea.’

‘You already spoke to Aunt Helen about this? But—’

‘She says you could use a change of scene. She says the accident upset you a lot.’ There was a brief silence. ‘I really meant to call you, Danni. Was it very awful?’

Danielle closed her eyes. ‘Yes,’ she whispered finally. ‘It was terrible.’

‘What was his name? Teddy?’

‘Eddie. Eddie Chancellor. You knew him, Val. He was two years ahead of us in school.’

‘Was he on the football team or anything?’

Danielle smiled at the thought. ‘No. He was on the debating team.’

‘I wouldn’t remember him, then.’ For a moment, the offhand carelessness of the remark angered Danielle, but then Valerie sighed and her voice filled with concern. ‘I’m really sorry,’ she said. ‘When did it happen?’

‘Eight months. It’s been eight months since—’

‘Getting away would be good for you. And you’d save my life. Really.’

Danielle smiled again. ‘You always were too dramatic.’

‘Well, it’s true.’ Valerie’s voice grew soft. ‘I really need you here.’ There was a sudden crackle of static. ‘Listen, I have to get off the phone now. I’ll send you the directions to Ste Agathe, OK? You won’t have any trouble finding it. There’s this road that goes straight from Nice into the mountains—’

‘I haven’t said I’m coming,’ Danielle said quickly.

‘Of course you’re coming.’ Static crackled again, and then Danielle thought she heard the distant sound of a man’s deep voice, followed by husky laughter. She hunched over the phone, straining to hear.

‘Val? Are you still there?’

‘I’m here,’ Val said in a sort of breathless whisper, and then she laughed softly. ‘In a minute. Yes. Well, I’m asking her now.’

‘Who are you talking to?’

‘Danielle, listen, I really have to run. You just make your flight reservations. Do you have a passport? And you’ll need a visa. Oh, and I guess you’ll need a rental car to get here from the airport. And—’