The Billionaire's Bride of Convenience

It was very sexy. She was very sexy. Hugh sometimes wondered if she was aware of her unusual brand of sex appeal, or if she’d ever exploited it.

Somehow he didn’t think so, which made her even sexier to him.

Wrong train of thought, Hugh. Damn, damn and triple damn!

Kathryn shot him one of her cool little smiles as they stepped into the lift.

‘The meeting went well, don’t you think?’ she said. ‘Everyone I spoke to seemed very pleased, both by the company’s progress…and with you,’ she added.

Somewhat reluctantly, Hugh thought.

‘You’re very good with people, aren’t you?’

How she managed to make even a compliment sound like a criticism, he had no idea.

‘Must come from all the parties I’ve been to,’ he said offhandedly as he pressed the car-park button. ‘By the way, Max was extremely impressed with you. He thoroughly enjoyed your lecture on inflation.’

Her head whipped his way, her eyes showing concern.

‘I’m not teasing you,’ he said. ‘I’m being serious. He liked you. Said I was to do everything in my power to keep you. Which leads me to my next question,’ he added just as the lift doors opened at the basement level.

‘Oh? What’s that?’

‘Do you intend to stay on working for me after you’re married?’

She didn’t have to say a single word, he saw the truth in her eyes.

‘I see,’ he said, astounded at his reaction to this news. Where was the relief? All he felt was dismay. Yet that was ridiculous! If he couldn’t have her, then it was far better that she go. Out of sight would be out of mind. He’d be able to get back to normal. And next time, he’d be very careful over the kind of female he hired as his assistant. Maybe someone like his father’s PA. Elaine was in her early fifties, a career spinster who’d been with Parkinson Media for yonks.

Clearly, his father was no fool. Or perhaps it was a case of once bitten, twice shy? His father’s first wife, Hugh’s mother, had once been his personal secretary. Of course, she’d been very pretty.

Hugh stared at Kathryn, who could hardly be described as very pretty. Yet she had a face which he was finding increasingly attractive, with its fine eyes and wide, sensual mouth. And then there was her figure, that tantalising, hourglass figure which was his constant torment.

‘And when were you going to tell me?’ he ground out, as— against all common sense—he cupped her elbow and steered her forcibly from the lift.

Kathryn was taken aback by his obvious anger. It wasn’t like Hugh to be angry, about anything! As a boss went, he was extremely easy-going, too easy-going. Life was meant to be enjoyed, he’d once told her when she’d chided him over spending so much time out of the office.

His anger upset her. As did the way he was pushing her along. Heavens, but his grip was strong. It had to be down to all that golf!

‘I didn’t say I was definitely leaving,’ she said with a degree of indignation. ‘I haven’t made up my mind yet.’

‘That’s not like you. I got the impression you had your life all planned out down to the last minute.’

How boring he made her sound. Boring and predictable.

‘There’s nothing wrong with having plans and goals,’ she countered defensively. ‘Not everyone can afford to just swan along without thinking about tomorrow.’

‘Touché,’ he said with the kind of light-hearted laugh she was used to hearing from him. It relaxed the tension which had been gathering in her stomach. So did his finally dropping her elbow. She hadn’t liked him touching her like that, hadn’t liked the funny little thrill it gave her.

It wasn’t till Hugh bent to open a car door that she noticed they’d come to a halt next to a bright red sports car.

Like lots of women, cars held little attraction for Kathryn. All she required of a vehicle was that it be kept spotlessly clean and got her safely from point A to point B.

Hugh’s car was spotlessly clean. Its metallic paintwork fairly shone. But it didn’t shout safety at her, it shouted danger, excitement and, yes, sex.

In a jolt of sudden insight, Kathryn understood why rich playboys drove cars like this, and why other men coveted them. They were, quite simply, seduction on wheels. Even the act of lowering herself into the passenger seat felt flirtatious, with her skirt riding halfway up her legs. When Hugh didn’t close the passenger door straight away, she glanced up to find him staring down at her provocatively exposed thighs.

It seemed an eternity before his gaze lifted from her legs to her face; an electrifying and exquisitely exciting eternity.

His eyes, when they met hers, betrayed no such excitement. A hint of irritation perhaps. Nothing more.

‘Watch your elbow,’ he advised brusquely before slamming the door shut.

‘Foolish girl,’ Kathryn muttered under her breath, gripping her handbag tightly in her lap whilst her billionaire boss strode round the front of the car.

But it was difficult to relax after being rattled so soundly by such a small thing as Hugh looking at her legs. Difficult to ignore her still thudding heartbeat. Difficult to pretend that she hadn’t wanted him to go on looking at her legs.

He wrenched open his door and slid in behind the wheel.

‘You haven’t been in my car before, have you?’ he threw at her as he leant forward and inserted his car key.

‘No,’ came her taut reply. There’d been no reason for him to drive her anywhere.

‘Seat belts would be good,’ he said with a sideward glace.

Kathryn cursed herself when she fumbled with hers and it snapped back over her left shoulder.

‘Here. Let me,’ he said, and leant over to do it for her.

She knew his arm brushing against her breasts was accidental but it didn’t stop her nipples from tightening inside her bra—or the sharp intake of breath which accompanied this not-to-be-ignored evidence of sexual arousal.

‘Sorry,’ he muttered, no doubt thinking her gasp was a form of protest. ‘There’s not a lot of room.’

Once her seat belt was fastened, Hugh turned his attention to slipping his own belt on then starting the car, giving Kathryn the opportunity to gather her senses.

Any relief was short-lived, however, when the car’s powerful engine throbbed into life, its vibration entering her body through her feet and shooting upwards, bringing a tingling to her whole body. When Hugh reversed out and accelerated away, taking the car-park corners faster than she ever would, Kathryn experienced a most uncharacteristic surge of exhilaration.

Normally, she despised speeding. But nothing was normal right now.

In no time they were out in George Street, where the steady lines of city traffic brought a swift halt to any speeding.

‘So what do you think of my car?’ he asked when they stopped at a set of lights.

What did she think? She thought it was so sexy it was sinful. But not as sexy as its owner.

‘Very nice,’ she said, and he laughed.

‘Only you would call a Ferrari nice.’ The lights changed and he was off again, this time a little more quickly, as the traffic ahead was thinning. He zapped left at the next corner, then right, after which she lost total track till he zoomed into a small car park down near the quay and braked to a halt.

‘Have you been to Neptune’s before?’ he asked as he retrieved his car key then unsnapped his seat belt.

‘No.’

‘You’ll like it.’

Kathryn was sure she would. How could you not like being taken to one of Sydney’s most famous restaurants where the menu would be to die for and the wine like liquid gold?

Suddenly, Kathryn knew why all those women chased after Hugh.

Not necessarily to marry him—although most would, if they could. But because billionaires could show a girl a very good time. It was a case of la dolce vita to the max: the best cars, the best restaurants, the best holidays.

Men like Hugh could give a woman everything she wanted.

Except commitment.

He’d be very good in bed, though, came the provocative thought.

Not that she’d ever find out. Hugh wasn’t the slightest bit interested in her in that way. You didn’t need to have a master’s degree to work out what sort of women he took to bed, and she wasn’t one of them.

The man himself wrenched open the passenger door at that precise moment and reached his hand down towards her. Kathryn really had no option but to take it.

This time, however, she was ready for her traitorous body’s reaction to him. This time, there wouldn’t be any silly gasping. She would keep her cool and her head…

When she put her hand in his, and his fingers closed around hers, Hugh had to use every ounce of his willpower not to show his feelings on his face. He’d been in an acute state of arousal from the moment he’d looked at her glorious thighs earlier on and envisaged how they’d feel wrapped around him. Then, when his arm had brushed against her breasts, he’d come within a hair’s breadth of throwing caution to the winds and making a total fool of himself.

When she’d stiffened her back against the seat and made that strangled sound, he’d been saved from attempting what would have been no doubt a disastrous move. In the short drive since that decidedly dangerous moment, he’d managed to regain some common sense—and some control.

But his arousal remained, as did the perverse pleasure that just touching her again was giving him. Slowly he drew her up out of the car, revelling in the warmth of her hand, though not the flash of discomfort he glimpsed in her eyes.

Too bad, he thought, and held her hand even more tightly.

The sound of his cellphone ringing annoyed the hell out of him.

Not so his PA, who immediately withdrew her hand from his and turned to close the passenger door.

‘Don’t forget to lock your car,’ she said coolly whilst he pulled his phone from his trouser pocket and flipped it open.

‘Hugh Parkinson,’ he said with a touch of weariness. But truthfully, what kind of masochistic maniac was he to invite Kathryn to dinner? Self-flagellation had never been his bag.

‘Hugh, darling,’ said a female voice. ‘Have I caught you at a bad time?’

‘Not at all, Mum. What’s up?’ he asked whilst pressing the car’s automatic lock then slipping the key into his trouser pocket.

‘I can’t make lunch tomorrow. Sorry.’

‘That’s all right. We’ll make it for the following Friday.’ A while back, his mother had complained that they hardly ever saw each other these days, except at Christmas and his father’s weddings, so they’d instituted a standard date to have lunch together every second Friday. Oddly enough, he’d got to know his mother better during those lunches than he could ever have imagined. They weren’t just mother and son these days, they were good friends.

‘I’ll have to check my diary and get back to you on that,’ she said. ‘We might have to make it another day.’

‘You shouldn’t be such a gadabout.’

‘You wouldn’t want me to sit at home pining for your father, would you?’

‘Did you ever do that?’

‘Only for the first ten years. So where are you off to tonight, darling? No, don’t tell me. Let me guess. You’ve found yourself a new girlfriend at last, and you’re going to impress her with dinner at Neptune’s.’

Hugh’s eyebrows lifted. It seemed his mother knew him very well indeed.

‘Not quite,’ he replied. ‘I’m taking Kathryn out to dinner as a reward for all her hard work today.’

‘To Neptune’s?’ his mother persisted.

‘Yes.’

‘And she agreed?’

‘Why not? It’s all perfectly harmless.’

His mother laughed. ‘You’re anything but perfectly harmless, darling. Not when it comes to the women you fancy.’

Hugh was struck speechless.

‘You thought I didn’t know?’

Again, he remained silent.

‘I never tell you what to do these days, darling. But I’m going to now. Men who sleep with their secretaries bring a lot of misery, mostly to the secretaries. Especially engaged ones. So take your mother’s advice and keep it zipped up whilst you’re around that lovely girl.’

‘I’ll do that,’ he bit out.

‘Good. I really like Kathryn. If you ever did anything to hurt her, I would be very cross.’

‘Mum, I must go. We have an early booking.’ So saying, he snapped his phone shut and looked at Kathryn.

‘Mum can’t make it to lunch tomorrow,’ he said by way of explanation.

‘What a shame. We always have a nice little chat when she comes to the office.’

‘So I gathered. Look, why don’t we both turn off our mobile phones for the next couple of hours? There’s nothing worse than people ringing you during dinner.’

He watched her hesitate, but only for a moment, before she opened her handbag and switched off her phone. Hugh smiled his satisfaction. Such a small victory, but it pleased him.

‘Good,’ he said and, masochistically taking her elbow once more, began shepherding her across the car park towards the restaurant.

CHAPTER FIVE

NEPTUNE’S was everything Kathryn had thought it would be: very classily decorated, with a magnificent view of Sydney Harbour and a mouth-watering menu that made her uncharacteristically indecisive.

But how did one choose between so many incredible dishes?

Incredibly expensive as well. She wondered what price the wine would be.

‘Stop looking at the prices,’ Hugh said after she’d been staring at the menu for a full five minutes. ‘I don’t give a damn what you order. Just hurry up. I’m starving.’

Still, she dilly-dallied.

‘Why don’t you let me order for you?’ he said somewhat impatiently.

‘Perhaps that would be best,’ she agreed when a waiter materialised at the side of their table.

Hugh told him they were skipping the entrée and going straight to the main course, selecting baby Barramundi, accompanied by an exotic concoction of pasta and vegetables, which she didn’t dare ask the waiter to explain for fear she would sound ignorant. Hugh also ordered some herb bread—to be delivered quickly—and a bottle of red wine which she suspected cost a lot more than the fifteen-to-twenty-dollar specials she always bought from her local wine shop.

The waiter returned with the wine like a shot, Hugh taking his time over the taste-testing before giving his nod for the waiter to pour.

‘I haven’t tried this particular wine before,’ he told her after the waiter departed. ‘A friend recommended it to me. Tell me what you think.’

When Kathryn took her first sip, she literally sighed with appreciation. ‘Oh, it’s lovely.’

‘I’ve had better,’ Hugh said. ‘But it’s not bad. Aah, here comes our bread. And just in time. I’ll need something to soak up the alcohol, if I’m going to drive you home afterwards.’

Kathryn almost spilled her wine. Which would have been a complete travesty. ‘You don’t have to do that,’ she said hurriedly. ‘I can easily take the train. I don’t live all that far from the station.’

‘You think I’d let you walk home after dark?’

‘It doesn’t get dark till after eight,’ she replied, feeling grateful for daylight saving.

‘Which it will be by the time we finish here. Don’t make a fuss, Kathryn. And don’t suggest a taxi. I’m driving you home and that’s that. If you’re worried I might be over the limit then don’t be. I’ll restrict my intake to two glasses and you can drink the rest.’

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