Hot Nights with the...Australian: The Master Player / Overtime in the Boss's Bed / The Billionaire Boss's Innocent Bride

Neither of these levels had been visible from the pool terrace. Access to them was by flights of steps, as well as a rather steep driveway from top to bottom just inside the security wall on the left-hand side, mainly used, Chloe imagined, by Eric driving a mini-tractor carrying garden tools up and down.

Edgar unlocked the door to the guest house, handed her the key and with a rather grandiloquent gesture, waved her in. Chloe walked into a delightfully cosy living area, which ran the full width of the small house. To her left were two rockers and a sofa upholstered in rose-patterned chintz. A large bow window had a cushioned window seat where one could curl up and read or idly watch the traffic on the harbour. A thick cream mat covered the parquet floor in front of the pot-belly stove, perfect for lying on near the heat in winter. An entrancing doll house stood in one corner near the bow window, a television set in the other. Cupboards lined the bottom half of the wall next to the front door, bookshelves the upper half.

To her right was a country-style round table with six chairs, and behind it a kitchenette, also designed in a country style—varnished wood cupboards and a white sink, no stainless steel visible anywhere. Edgar showed her the pantry cupboard, saying, ‘My wife, Elaine, has stocked it with the usual staples, but if there’s something else you’d particularly like, just press the kitchen button on the telephone and ask her for it.’

He also opened the refrigerator, which was similarly stocked with staples plus a chicken casserole ready to slide into the oven for her dinner tonight. ‘Please thank Elaine for me,’ Chloe said gratefully. ‘This is so good of her.’

Another small benevolent smile. ‘Let me show you the rest of the house.’

There were two bedrooms and a bathroom in between. The old bath, Edgar told her, had been replaced by a shower stall to leave room enough for the addition of the washing machine and clothes dryer. What had once been designated the boys’ room held two single beds. The girls’ room held one—queen-size. All of them had beautiful patchwork quilts. Both rooms had wall-length storage cupboards, plenty of room to hold all her personal things, although Chloe didn’t intend to unpack everything, just enough for her immediate needs.

Edgar checked his watch. ‘It’s just on a quarter past three o’clock now. The removalist company gave their estimated arrival time here at four-thirty. Eric, Mr Hart’s gardener and handyman, will conduct the transport of boxes to you, Miss Rollins, help you open them and remove those you wish to unpack after they’ve been emptied. Others can remain stored in the boys’ room. In the meantime, if there’s anything else …?’

‘No, thank you, Edgar. I’ll enjoy myself exploring everything I have here.’

‘You’re very welcome, Miss Rollins,’ he said and bowed himself out of the house.

Chloe made herself a cup of coffee, sipping it as she checked out the contents of the bookshelves. There was a stack of CDs providing a range of classical and popular music, several shelves of modern books—most she recognised as bestsellers in both fiction and non-fiction. However, her interest was mainly drawn by the old books; Dickens, Robert Louis Stevenson, Edgar Allan Poe, the whole series of Anne of Green Gables and Pollyanna, an ancient set of Encyclopedia Britannica, a book containing drawings of birds—not photographs—a history of ships, a guide for all sorts of fancy needlework.

Her imagination conjured up the nanny teaching the girls how to sew, the boys identifying birds from the book, scenes of a happy childhood she had never known but which leapt vividly into her mind. She felt a strong wave of empathy with Miss Elizabeth, sitting in this room, opening these books to leaf through them again, reliving her memories.

The cupboards held more old treasures; a slightly tattered but still intact game of Monopoly, boards for snakes and ladders with coloured discs and dice for playing and Chinese checkers with sets of pegs, a chess set made of marble, packs of cards, boxes of jigsaws from very simple to very challenging. Chloe decided to start one of them tonight. It would be much more fun than watching television.

She finished her coffee and moved on to the most entrancing piece from the past—the doll house. It was made of wood and was double-storeyed. Its roof was hinged so it could be lifted up to rearrange the rooms on the second floor—the bedrooms amazingly well-furnished, cupboards, chairs, dressing-tables with mirrors, even little patchwork quilts on the beds. The bathroom had a miniature china tub with iron claw feet, a washstand, a tiny china toilet.

All the windows and doors could be opened and shut. The ground floor was just as amazing. A central hallway held a staircase to the upper floor. A fully fitted-out dining room and kitchen were situated on one side of it, on the other an exquisitely furnished sitting room and behind it a utility room with laundry tubs.

Chloe was sitting on the floor, one finger stroking the silk brocade on a miniature sofa, when a loud tapping startled her out of her enthralment with the little masterpiece. Her head jerked around. Her heart kicked as her gaze met the dark brilliant eyes of Maximilian Hart looking straight at her through the multi-paned glass door. A hot flush zoomed into her cheeks as she scrambled to her feet, feeling hopelessly disarmed at being caught out doing something so childish.

She worked hard at regathering her composure as she crossed the living room and managed a rueful little smile when she opened the door. ‘I didn’t have a doll’s house when I was a little girl,’ she said, shrugging away her absorption in it.

‘Were you ever allowed to be a little girl, Chloe?’ he asked with a flash of sympathy.

She grimaced. ‘It wasn’t an ordinary life. My mother …’ Her voice trailed off, her mind instinctively shutting out thoughts of her mother.

‘Mine wasn’t ordinary, either,’ he said with a touch of black irony, then with a quizzical look, asked, ‘Do you have the sense of something very different in this children’s house?’

‘Yes. Yes, I do,’ she answered eagerly. ‘I love the feel of it, Max.’

He nodded, and there was something in his eyes—a recognition of all she had missed out on, perhaps an echo of his own lost boyhood. It tugged at her heart, making it flip into a faster beat. Then it was gone, replaced by an intensity of purpose, which left her floundering in an emotional morass.

‘May I come in?’

Embarrassment increased the floundering. She’d left him standing on the doorstep instead of inviting him in. ‘Of course. Please …’ She quickly stepped back, giving him plenty of room to enter, every nerve in her body quivering from the magnetic force field he brought with him.

‘Leave the door open,’ he instructed. ‘I just wanted a private word with you before introducing the bodyguard who’s waiting outside.’

‘Bodyguard!’ Shock galvanised her attention.

‘I’ve employed him to drive you to and fro from the set at Fox Studios, or anywhere else you wish to go. He’ll stay close to you while ever you’re away from this property, ensure you’re not harassed by anyone. It’s simply a safeguard, Chloe, nothing for you to worry about. You can dispense with his services later on, but I think to begin with, you’ll feel more secure having him around.’ He made an apologetic grimace. ‘Unfortunately, I have other calls on my time and can’t always be on hand to protect you.’

‘No. I wouldn’t expect it of you,’ she swiftly assured him, acutely conscious of the time he’d already spent on her.

‘I’d like you to accept the bodyguard, if only to make me feel I’ve covered every contingency for avoiding problems you might be faced with. I do hate failure,’ he said in a self-mocking tone.

Considering all he had done for her, Chloe felt it was impossible not to oblige him on this point, though she thought a bodyguard was excessive. ‘All right. If you really think it’s necessary,’ she said uncertainly.

‘I do.’

No uncertainty in his mind. He immediately walked back outside and beckoned to someone who must have been waiting at the foot of the stone steps. Chloe imagined some big, burly hunk of a man, like a bouncer at a nightclub. It was a relief to see almost a fatherly figure, conservatively dressed in a grey suit, his salt-and-pepper hair and the lines of experience on his face suggesting he was in his fifties. He was as tall as Max, broad-shouldered, barrel-chested, and Chloe had no doubt he had a strong enough physique to impose his will on others, but he didn’t look like a bully-boy, more a mature man who wore a confident air of authority and the muscle to impose it if needed.

Max performed the introductions. ‘Miss Chloe Rollins, Gerry Anderson.’

A strong hand briefly pressed the one she offered. ‘At your service, Miss Rollins. I’m Gerry to everyone so please feel free to use the name,’ he invited in a deep, pleasant voice.

‘Thank you. I hope I’m no real trouble to you,’ she said sincerely.

‘I’ll be taking care of any that comes your way, Miss Rollins,’ he assured her, taking a slim mobile telephone from his coat pocket. ‘I’ll be here six o’clock Monday morning to take you to work. If you want to go out anywhere before then, contact me with this and we’ll make arrangements.’ He showed her his stored contact number, then gave her the phone, satisfied she knew how to work it.

It was Saturday afternoon. She would probably be busy unpacking most of Sunday and there was plenty of food here to keep her going. ‘Thank you, but I won’t be going anywhere tomorrow,’ she said decisively.

‘Keep it with you. I’m on call anytime, day and night.’

‘Okay,’ she agreed.

‘Thank you, Gerry,’ Max said in dismissal.

The older man raised a hand in salute to both of them and made a prompt exit, leaving Chloe alone with Max again. The dark eyes bored into hers, as though tunnelling a path to her heart, which instantly started a nervous pounding.

‘Since you have a good feeling in this house, Chloe, I suggest you stay here until the current twelve episodes of the show have been completed. It will be easier for you, no disruptive tensions to interfere with your work, and I can house any guests I wish to invite in the mansion, so it will not present any problem to me.’

Two months living here … it was so seductive.

But two months in close proximity to him …

‘Think about it,’ he commanded in a soft, persuasive tone. ‘I just want you to know you’re welcome to stay.’

‘Thank you,’ she managed to say, hoping he couldn’t see her inner turmoil.

‘And please feel free to use the swimming pool at any time,’ he went on with a smile that put flutters in her stomach. ‘They’ve forecast a very hot day tomorrow.’

‘Thank you,’ she said again, and wondered if she sounded like a parrot mimicking words that really meant nothing.

‘Relax, Chloe.’ His eyes turned to a soothing chocolate velvet and he reached out and gently stroked her cheek. ‘Be happy here.’

It was the lightest feather touch, yet it left a hot tingling that Chloe felt for several minutes after he was gone. She didn’t accompany him to the door. He walked out himself while she stood in a mesmerised trance, her own hand automatically lifting to cover the highly sensitised cheek, whether to hold on to the feeling or make it go away, she didn’t know.

What she did know with utter certainty was that Maximilian Hart affected her as no other man had … deeply … and while it frightened her, it also excited her, as though he was opening doors she wanted to go through … with him.

CHAPTER FIVE

MAX occupied one of the sun-loungers under the eastern pergola, idly doing the Sudoku puzzles from one of the Sunday newspapers. From time to time he glanced to the far northern corner of the terrace, expecting Chloe to appear at the top of the flight of steps, coming to the pool for a swim. It was a hot morning, so hot that a storm would probably brew up this afternoon. The shade of the vines and the light breeze from the harbour made his waiting tolerable.

He’d done all the groundwork to achieve what he wanted. He was sure Chloe would accept his invitation to stay, just as he was sure of the sexual chemistry at work between them. Restraint had to be kept for a while. A delicate hand had to be played, no pushing too hard, too soon. Any sense of being dominated by him had to be avoided.

She’d had that with her mother and having made the break from Stephanie’s overbearing control, she would shy from falling into a similar situation. He had to make her feel whatever she did from now on was her own choice, but he’d be leading her to wanting him every step of the way—wanting him as much as he wanted her.

The strength of his desire surprised him. It wasn’t his usual style to get so involved with a woman. All his relationships in the past had revolved around having regular sex with women he liked—an urge he took pleasure in satisfying. He could have had it last night with Shannah. She’d invited him to even after he’d told her their affair was over—a final farewell in bed—yet he’d been totally disinterested in anything physical with her. She’d accepted his dry, goodbye kiss on the cheek with wry grace—still friends, despite his moving on.

Chloe had been on his mind. It had been difficult to even focus his attention on Shannah. Thoughts of what Chloe might be doing in the children’s house kept intruding, plans for how best to draw her into sharing his bed.

Her husband was history but Max didn’t feel right about storming her into an affair with him. She was too vulnerable right now. It would be like taking advantage of a wounded creature. He had to wait, but the mental force to keep his desire in check needed considerable bolstering when he looked up and saw her moving towards the pool.

She wore a simple turquoise maillot, cut high on the leg and with a low enough V-neckline to reveal the swell of her breasts. Every lovely feminine curve of her body was on display and he instantly felt a tightening in his groin. It took an act of will to relax again and simply watch her.

She was unaware of his presence. The glare of bright sunlight made him virtually invisible in the shade of the pergola. She dropped the towel she’d been carrying by the edge of the pool, removed her sandals and waded in via the steps, which ran its width at the shallow end. The water was solar-heated to a temperature that kept it refreshing without being chilly. She smiled her pleasure as she slowly lowered herself into it and made soft waves with her arms. Max found the dimples in her cheeks strangely endearing, childlike, and he smiled himself, feeling a wave of indulgence towards her.

She didn’t break into a swim. She pushed off from the steps and glided, rolling her body over and over, wallowing in the water, floating, her wet hair drifting around her like a golden halo. He could have remained watching her for much longer, enjoying her uninhibited pleasure, but when she started swimming, splashing, the noise made his own silence questionable. He rose from the lounger and moved to his end of the pool ready to greet her when she reached it.

‘Good morning.’

Chloe was so startled by the greeting, she almost lost her grip on the ledge, which formed a seat at the deep end. Her head jerked up. She’d thought there was no-one on the terrace, that she had the pool to herself, but it was Max’s voice. Max was here. He stood barely a metre away, and her heart started hammering as her stunned mind registered the fantastic body of the man—naked but for a brief black swimming costume that left very little to the imagination.

He had the physique of an Olympic swimmer, broad shoulders and chest, strong arms, every male muscle impressively delineated, lean waist and hips, powerful thighs and calves, and his tanned skin gleamed as though it was polished. It was all so in her face, she couldn’t find the breath to speak.

He smiled apologetically. ‘Sorry to startle you. I was reading the newspapers under the pergola.’ He waved to where he’d been sitting. ‘When I heard you swimming, I thought I’d refresh myself, as well. Mind if I join you?’

‘No. No, of course not,’ she gabbled. It was his pool.

‘Did you sleep well?’

‘Yes. Like a baby.’ She grimaced at the phrase, reminded of the baby Laura would have, the baby she had been denied.

He saw the grimace and frowned. ‘Everything all right for you in the guest house?’

‘Perfect,’ she assured him, smiling to wipe out his concern.

‘Good!’ He grinned. ‘Let’s swim.’

He dived into the pool, barely making a splash and broke surface almost halfway down it, moving straight into a classic crawl. Chloe hitched herself onto the underwater seat and watched him as he swam the length and back again, using the few minutes trying to stop her heart from racing and her mind from dwelling on the fact that Maximilian Hart left every other man for dead when it came to physical attraction.

Tony’s physique was well-proportioned but it didn’t have that much male power. Amazingly, her mind hadn’t been churning over Tony and Laura since she’d been here. It was as though they had drifted off to a far distance and she was already immersed in an existence without them. Was it because Max put himself between her and them, blotting them out with his overwhelming presence, or was it the effect of the children’s house, giving her such pleasant distraction?

Both had played their part.

She was safe from the others if she stayed here, safe from horrible, hurtful arguments with Tony, safe from the pressure her mother would apply with every bit of emotional blackmail she could concoct.

But was she safe with a shark?

The thought popped into her mind as Max finished cutting through the water and hauled himself onto the seat beside her, his dark brilliant eyes teasing as he asked, ‘Did I scare you off swimming?’

She laughed to hide the tension triggered by his nearness. ‘No way could I keep up with you.’

‘I’ll go slow,’ he promised.

‘A very leisurely pace.’

‘You’ve got it.’

She plunged into the water ahead of him, wanting the activity to calm her down, soothe her twitching nerve ends. Max wasn’t coming onto her. He was just being himself. Besides, he had Shannah Lian. Of course she was safe with him.

They swam several lengths of the pool together. It was impossible not to be acutely aware of the man beside her, but Chloe managed to put the situation in enough perspective to feel reasonably comfortable with his company when she called a halt at the shallow end where she’d left her towel.

‘Enough?’ he asked.

‘For now,’ she answered, walking up the steps, so conscious of her own body under his gaze, she quickly snatched up her towel and wrapped it around her.

‘I hate to put a dampener on the day, but I think you should see what Lisa Cox has written in the entertainment section of her Sunday newspaper,’ he said as he followed her out of the pool.

She swung around in dismay. ‘Is it bad?’

‘Somewhat sensational,’ he answered sardonically, waving towards the eastern pergola. ‘Come and read it for yourself. I’ll pour you a cool drink that might make it more palatable.’

She fell into step with him as he headed back to where he’d sat, anxiety and apprehension overriding most of her awareness of his almost naked state. Nevertheless, when they reached the welcome shade of the pergola, she was relieved that he picked up a towel from one of the loungers and tucked it around his waist.

The newspapers were on a nearby table, which also held a tray with some long glasses and a cooler bag, obviously containing a pitcher of whatever liquid Max was going to serve her. He moved to the table, drew out one of the chairs for her, then tapped the top newspaper as he reached for the cooler bag.

‘This one. Take a seat, Chloe.’ He busied himself opening the bag and removing a large jug of fruit juice while he talked. ‘Apparently Tony broke the story. Out of spite, I should think, after the removalists had left to transport your personal possessions here. He’d demanded what authority they had and they’d shown him the fax, giving this address.’

Maximilian Hart’s mansion at Vaucluse … it was a big step up from the apartment at Randwick, while Tony was out in the cold, fired from the script-writing team, and powerless to stop what was happening. Chloe could see him wanting to do something spiteful, yet how could he exonerate his own behaviour?

‘Lisa Cox telephoned me late yesterday afternoon to get confirmation of your presence on my property and my comment on it,’ Max went on. ‘She wanted to speak to you, as well, but I’d left you reasonably happy in the children’s house and didn’t think you’d want to be stirred up by nasty innuendos, so I told her you were unavailable.’

He poured the juice into two glasses and sat one in front of her, a flash of inquisitive appeal in his eyes. ‘I hope you don’t mind my running interference for you with Lisa.’

She shook her head. ‘I’m sure you handled the situation better than I would have.’

He shrugged and took the chair opposite hers, the expression in his eyes changing to a hard, ruthless gleam as he flatly stated, ‘I told her the truth.’ His mouth twisted cynically and his voice took on a mocking tone. ‘Tony had reported that you’d left him for me, omitting the salient facts like his infidelity and impregnating your personal assistant. I laid them out and apparently your mother has confirmed them, while hitting out at me for taking you away when you should be with her, being comforted as only a mother can comfort in such stressful circumstances. She made no mention of having her services as your agent terminated.’

Chloe grimaced at his summary of Tony’s and her mother’s spin on what had happened. ‘I’m sorry, Max. I did warn you there’d be a backlash to protecting me as you have.’

‘Makes me more determined to keep doing so.’ His eyes flashed intensity of purpose at her. ‘You need a complete break from them, Chloe. Best that you stay here the two months, avoid all aggravation. As I said, it’s no problem for me if you do, and it will hold you clear of them so you can work out your own future.’

He liked being in charge of a battle zone, Chloe thought. A born warrior. And she liked being protected by him. Probably too much. But she could learn how best to stand up for herself from him.

‘I’d better read the whole thing,’ she muttered, opening up the newspaper and lifting out the entertainment section.

The story was headlined Maximilian Hart’s Star Hit by Scandal. It held much more detail than Max had given; rantings from Tony about Max taking her over, using his power to alienate her from their marriage; her mother taking a similar stance, saying Max had inserted himself between mother and daughter with no regard for what was appropriate or what was in Chloe’s best interests. They more or less painted him as a ruthless manipulator, which wasn’t the truth at all.

Max had stated the truth—that she’d been deeply shocked and distressed by the disclosure at the launch party that her husband had been having an affair with her trusted personal assistant who was now pregnant to him, and she hadn’t wanted to go home to either her husband or her mother, so he’d offered her his guest house as a ready refuge where she was welcome to stay as long as she liked. The story ended, saying Chloe Rollins had not been available for comment.

‘You could sue them for slander over the things they’ve said about you,’ she murmured fretfully.

‘Irrelevant,’ he said carelessly, then shot her an ironic smile. ‘Much better not to give them a stage to star on. Let them fade into insignificance as the show moves on.’

Chloe returned some irony of her own. ‘You know what the most sickening part is? Both my mother and Tony talked me out of having a baby because starring in your show was more important.’

His gaze dropped from hers as he frowned over this new information.

‘I guess you wouldn’t have wanted me if I had been pregnant,’ she put to him, interpreting his frown as confirmation that her mother and Tony had been right about that.