An Unlikely Bride for the Billionaire (5 page)

BOOK: An Unlikely Bride for the Billionaire
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She swallowed before gesturing for him to take a seat. ‘If you want me working so closely with you and Carla then there's something you need to know about me.'

He sat in the chair at the head of the table. ‘I know all I need to know.'

She fixed him with that compelling gaze of hers, but for the life of him he couldn't read her expression. She took the chair immediately to his left, gripping her hands together until her knuckles turned white.

‘I'd rather be the one to tell you than for you to hear it from other sources.'

He straightened. What on earth...? ‘I'm listening.'

He watched the compulsive bob of her throat as she swallowed. Her hands gripped each other so tightly he was sure she'd cut off the blood supply to her fingers if she weren't careful.

‘Ten months ago I was released from jail after serving a three-year prison sentence for committing fraud. I think it's only fair that you know I'm an ex-convict.'

CHAPTER THREE

M
IA
WAITED
WITH
a growing sense of dread for Dylan's face to close and for him to turn away.

His open-mouthed shock rang through her like a blow, but his face didn't close. He didn't turn away.

His frown did deepen, though, and she could read the thoughts racing behind the vivid blue of his eyes.

‘No,' she said, holding his gaze. ‘I wasn't wrongfully convicted, there were no mitigating circumstances.' She swallowed. ‘Unless you want to count the fact that I was young and stupid.'

And utterly in thrall to Johnnie Peters. So in love she'd have done anything he'd asked of her. So in love she
had
done anything he'd asked of her.

‘You're not going to tell me any more than that?'

Curiosity sharpened his gaze, but it wasn't the kind of avid, voyeuristic curiosity that made her want to crawl under a rock. It held a warmth and sympathy that almost undid her.

Swallowing again, she shook her head. ‘It's sordid and unpleasant and it's in the past. According to the justice system, I've paid my debt to society. I won't ever steal again. I'll never break the law again. But I understand that in light of these circumstances my word isn't worth much. I'll completely understand if you'd prefer to deal with Nora rather than with me.'

He didn't say anything.

‘You don't need to worry about my job. You've done enough to ensure I won't be fired...at least, not this week.' She'd aimed for levity, but it fell flat.

He lifted his chin. ‘I meant what I said—come and work for me.'

She realised now what she'd known on a subconscious level after only ten minutes in his company—Dylan Fairweather was a good man.

‘I appreciate the offer, I really do, but besides the fact that you don't know me—'

‘I know you have a good work ethic. If the way you've treated Carla is anything to go by, where clients are concerned nothing is too much trouble for you. They're valuable assets in an employee.'

‘According to Gordon I have a problem with authority.'

He grinned, and leaned in so close she could smell the nutmeg warmth of his skin. ‘That's something we have in common, then.'

How was it possible for him to make her laugh when they were having such a serious conversation? She sobered, recalling her earlier impulsive,
I think I just fell a little bit in love with you
. She should never have said it. Instinct warned her that Dylan could wreak havoc on her heart if she let him.

She couldn't let him. She wasn't giving
any
man that kind of power over her again.

She pulled in a breath. ‘I was fortunate to be awarded this traineeship. The opportunity was given to me in good faith and I feel honour-bound to make the most of it.'

‘Admirable.'

It wasn't admirable at all. She needed a job—a way to earn a living. For the two-year tenure of her traineeship she'd be in paid employment. Maybe at the end of that time she'd have proved herself worthy and someone would take a chance on employing her. She needed a way to support herself. After what she'd done she couldn't ask the welfare system to support her.

‘Do you have a passion for conservation?'

‘Conservation is an important issue.'

‘That's not the same thing,' he pointed out.

Passion was dangerous. She'd done all she could to excise it from her life. Besides, busying herself with weed extermination programmes, soil erosion projects, and koala breeding strategies—plants, dirt and animals—meant she had minimal contact with people.

And as far as she was concerned that was a
very
good thing.

‘Here.' He pulled a chocolate bar from his pocket. ‘This is the real reason I came back to the office.'

Frowning, she took it, careful not to touch him as she did so.

‘You said chocolate belonged in a class of its own and...'

He shrugged, looking a little bit embarrassed, and something inside her started to melt.

No melting
!

‘I wanted to thank you for your patience with both Carla and me today.'

‘It's—'

‘I know—it's your job, Mia.'

Dear Lord, the way he said her name
...

‘But good work should always be acknowledged. And...' An irrepressible smile gathered at the corner of his mouth. ‘I fear more of the same will be asked of you tomorrow.'

It took a moment for his words to sink in. ‘You mean...?'

‘I mean we want
you
, Mia. Not Nora. I want everything associated with this wedding to be a joy for Carla. She likes you. And that's rarer than you might think.' He suddenly frowned. ‘How much will taking charge of this affect your traineeship? Will I be creating a problem for you there?'

He was giving her an out. If she wanted one.
If...

She pulled in a breath. ‘The wedding is nine months away, right?'

He nodded.

Being Carla's liaison wouldn't be a full-time job. Very slowly she nodded too. ‘That leaves me plenty of time to continue with my fieldwork and studies.'

If it weren't for Dylan she wouldn't have a job right now
or
a chance to finish her traineeship. She owed him.
Big-time
. She made a resolution then and there to do all she could to make Carla's wedding a spectacular success.

Her gaze rested on the chocolate bar he'd handed to her earlier. She suddenly realised how she could tacitly thank him right now. Without giving herself time to think, she ripped off the wrapper and bit into it.

‘I'm ravenous. And this is
so
good.'

As she'd known he would, he grinned in delight that his gift had given her pleasure. She closed her eyes to savour the soft milky creaminess, and when she opened them again she found his gaze fastened on her lips, the blue of his eyes deepening and darkening, and her stomach pitched.

She set the chocolate to the table and wiped damp palms down her trousers. ‘I... This is probably a stupid thing to raise...'

He folded his arms. ‘Out with it.'

‘I don't believe you have any interest in me beyond that of any employer, but after what Gordon just accused me of...'

She couldn't meet his eyes. The thing was, Gordon had recognised what she'd so desperately wanted to keep hidden—that she found Dylan attractive.
Very
attractive. He'd woken something inside her that she desperately wanted to put back to sleep.

‘I just want to make it clear that I'm not in the market for a relationship.
Any
kind of relationship—hot and heavy or fun and flirty.'

She read derision in his eyes. But before she could dissolve into a puddle of embarrassment at his feet she realised the derision was aimed at himself—not at her.

‘No relationships? Noted.' He rolled his shoulders. ‘Mia, I have a tendency to flirt—it's a result of the circles I move in—but it doesn't mean anything. It's just supposed to be a bit of harmless fun. My clients like to feel important and, as
they
are important to me, I like to make them feel valued. I plan celebrations, parties, and it's my job to make the entire process as enjoyable as possible. So charm and a sense of fun have become second nature to me. If I've given you the wrong impression...'

‘Oh, no, you haven't!'

‘For what it's worth, I'm not in the market for a relationship at the moment either.'

She glanced up.

Why not
?

That's no concern of yours
.

Humour flitted through his eyes. ‘But what about friendship? Do you have anything against that?'

That made her smile. People like Dylan didn't become friends with people like her. Once the wedding was over she'd never see him again.

‘I have nothing whatsoever against friendship.' She'd sworn never again to steal or cheat. A little white lie, though, didn't count. Did it...?

* * *

Thierry Geroux, Carla's fiancé, was as dark and scowling as Carla and Dylan were golden and gregarious. Mia couldn't help but wonder what on earth Carla saw in him.

She pushed that thought away. It was none of her business.

As if he sensed the direction of her thoughts, Thierry turned his scowl on her. She wanted to tell him not to bother—that his scowls didn't frighten
her
...she'd been scowled at by professionals. She didn't, of course. She just sent him one of the bland smiles she'd become so adept at.

‘Do you have any questions, Mr Geroux?' He'd barely spoken two words in the last hour.

‘No.'

‘None?' Dylan double-checked, a frown creasing his brow.

‘Stop bouncing,' Thierry said in irritation to Carla, who clung to his arm, shifting her weight from one leg to the other.

‘But, Thierry, it's so
exciting
!'

Nevertheless she stopped bouncing.

Thierry turned to Dylan. ‘Carla is to have the wedding she wants. As you're the events expert, I'm sure you have that under control.'

He ignored Mia completely. Which suited Mia just fine.

Dylan turned back to Mia. ‘There could be quite a gap between the end of the wedding ceremony and the start of the reception, while Carla and Thierry have photographs taken.'

Mia nodded. ‘It;s often the case. With it being late spring there'll still be plenty of light left. I can organise a tour of the wildlife exhibits for those who are interested.'

‘Oh!' Carla jumped up and down. ‘Could we do that now?'

‘Absolutely.'

The exhibits—a system of aviaries and enclosures—were sympathetically set into the natural landscape. A wooden walkway meandered through the arrangement at mid-tree height. This meant visitors could view many of the birds at eye level, practically commune with the rock wallabies sunning themselves on their craggy hillside, and look down on the wombats, echidnas and goannas in their pens.

At the heart of the wildlife walk—and the jewel in its crown—was the koala house. Set up like an enormous tree house, the wooden structure was covered on three sides to weatherproof it for visitors, with an arena opening out below full of native flora and an artfully designed pond.

The entire complex was enclosed in a huge aviary. A visitor could glance up into the trees to view the variety of colourful parrots, or along the rafters of the tree house to see the napping tawny frogmouths. Below were a myriad of walking birds, along with the occasional wallaby and echidna. But at eye-level were the koalas on their specially designed poles, where fresh eucalyptus leaves were placed daily. No wire or special glass separated man from beast—only a wooden railing and a ten-foot drop into the enclosure below.

‘I
love
this place,' Carla breathed as they entered.

‘This is really something,' Dylan murmured in Mia's ear.

His breath fanned the hair at her temples and awareness skidded up her spine. ‘It's a special place,' she agreed, moving away—needing to put some distance between them.

When they'd looked their fill, she led them back outside to a series of small nocturnal houses—the first of which was the snake house.

Carla gave a shudder. ‘No matter how much I try, I don't like snakes.'

They didn't bother Mia, but she nodded. ‘We don't have to linger. We can move straight on to the amphibian house and then the possum house.'

‘C'mon, Thierry.'

Carla tugged on his arm, evidently eager to leave, but he disengaged her hand. ‘You go ahead. I find snakes fascinating.'

Finally the man showed some interest—
hallelujah!

Thierry glanced at her. ‘Mia might be kind enough to stay behind with me and answer some questions?'

The snakes might not bother her, but Mia loathed the caged darkness of the nocturnal houses, hating the way they made her feel trapped. She didn't betray any of that by so much of a flicker of her eyelids, though.

‘I'd be happy to answer any questions.'

Dylan caught her eye and gestured that he and Carla would move on, and she nodded to let him know that she and Thierry would catch up.

She moved to stand beside Thierry, nodding at the slender green snake with the bright yellow throat that he currently surveyed. ‘That's a tree snake. It's—'

‘I can read.'

She sucked in a breath. Was he being deliberately rude? She lifted her chin. He might be hard work, but she was used to hard work.

‘They're very common,' she continued, ‘but rarely seen as they're so shy. They seldom bite. Their main form of defence is to give off a rather dreadful odour when threatened.'

Mia was convinced there was a metaphor for life trapped in there somewhere.

‘
You
give off a bad smell too.'

Thierry moved so quickly that before she knew what he was doing he had her trapped between the wall and a glass display unit—the olive python on the other side didn't stir.

‘Dylan told us about your background—that you're nothing but a common little thief with a criminal record.'

The sudden sense of confinement had her heart leaping into her throat before surging back into her chest to thump off the walls of her ribs.

‘When I was in jail—' with a supreme effort she kept her voice utterly devoid of emotion ‘—I learned a lot about self-defence and how to hurt someone. If you don't take two steps back within the next three seconds you're going to find yourself on your back in a screaming mess of pain.'

He waited the full three seconds, but he did move away. Mia tried to stop her shoulders from sagging as she dragged a grateful breath into her lungs.

He stabbed a finger at her. ‘I don't like you.'

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