The Ruthless Billionaire’s Redemption

She drew a breath and looked up at the man again. She had the feeling he was watching her closely but it was impossible to be sure, now that his eyes were hidden behind the dark glasses.

‘Are you—are you really going to Ste Agathe?’ she asked.

His lips drew back from his teeth. ‘That’s what I said.’

‘But—but I don’t know you. I mean…’

‘Would a formal introduction make you feel better, Miss Nichols?’

‘I know this must seem very funny to you,’ Danielle said coldly, ‘but I’m not in the habit of going off with strangers.’

‘We’re not strangers, though. We’ve had two absolutely delightful conversations, we shared a plane ride…’ He held up his hands in surrender when he saw the look on Danielle’s face. ‘You’re quite right,’ he said solemnly. ‘Two people who are about to set off on a journey together should at least know each other’s names. Anyway, I already know yours. I suppose you’re entitled to the same courtesy.’ He made a sweeping bow. ‘Lee Bradford, at your service, mam’selle.’

Something in the way he offered his name gave her pause. ‘Should I—am I supposed to know your name, or something?’

‘Or something,’ he said with a quick smile.

Was he an actor? Was that why he was going to Ste Agathe? He was certainly handsome enough.

She drew in her breath. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘but I’m afraid—’

‘I’m a racer.’

Danielle looked blank. ‘You can’t be. Jockeys are short, aren’t they?’

He reached up slowly and pulled off his glasses. There was laughter in his eyes again. ‘Cars,’ he said softly. ‘Race cars. I’m a driver, Miss Nichols.’

Race cars, she thought. Of course. It was easy to imagine him behind the wheel of a powerful car, the wind whipping into his face and the engine growling.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘I’m not very…’

The look of amusement left his face. It was, she thought, like glimpsing the real features behind a mask, but before she could quite grasp what it was she’d thought she’d seen, the arrogant expression was back.

‘No,’ he said, picking up her suitcase, ‘you’re not.’ He started towards the doors as Danielle stared after him, and then he turned and looked at her. ‘Well? Are you coming or not?’

She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. ‘I—I don’t know. Maybe I can get a car at another counter. Maybe I should telephone…’

Lee Bradford sighed and dropped her luggage to the floor. ‘All right,’ he said, walking towards her, ‘let’s get it over with.’

Danielle stared at him. ‘I don’t understand.’

He smiled as his hands clasped her shoulders. ‘Yes, you do,’ he said softly. ‘You’ve been wondering about this from the minute I walked into that lounge in New York.’ His eyes swept over her face and settled on her mouth. ‘Maybe if we get the suspense out of the way, we can get to Ste Agathe before next week.’

She knew what he was going to do a second before it happened, but it was still too late. Her hands came up and pressed against his chest as he bent his head towards hers.

‘No,’ she said frantically, ‘you can’t do that.’

If only she hadn’t protested, she thought later, if only she hadn’t said anything or done anything, it might have ended there. His kiss was only meant to tease her, she knew that even as she fought against it.

His mouth only brushed hers lightly, but when her lips parted to vent her protest, everything changed. Lee’s mouth closed over hers and then his arms tightened around her.

Danielle whimpered softly as he drew her to him. She felt the quick race of his heart beneath her hands and the answering race of her own, and then his lips moved against hers. Suddenly time and reality dropped away.

She had no idea how long it was before his hands cupped her shoulders again and he thrust her from him. They stood staring at each other, locked in a silence so thick it seemed almost palpable. Then, before Danielle could speak, Lee let out his breath and turned away.

‘OK,’ he said evenly, ‘that’s out of the way. Can you manage your carry-on yourself, or shall I take it?’

Danielle shook her head. ‘I—I…’

Her words faded and Lee swung towards her. ‘Last chance, little girl,’ he said. His voice sounded angry, almost fierce. ‘Maybe you ought to forget about Ste Agathe and get on the next plane back to the States.’

It was, she thought with sudden, terrible clarity, probably the best advice anyone had ever given her.

But instead of taking it, Danielle swung the strap of her carry-on over her shoulder. ‘Where’s your car, Mr Bradford?’ she asked with determined coolness, and without another word she followed him out into the hot Mediterranean sun.

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