The Boss and Her Billionaire (20 page)

Michaela sat back in her chair with a smile of satisfaction. She was going to have to be careful—at this rate she’d make herself redundant, or at the very least the position wouldn’t provide enough work to

keep her on full-time.

Well, they did hire me to make the position more efficient. I’m sure if I do that, they’ll just want me to work on their other systems to make them better, too.

Keeping busy was important, not just so she could prove herself in her new job but also to keep her

mind off the memories that swept into her dreams and tugged at the cords she’d tied around her heart.

The memories of life at sea pulled at her physically, too, and every now and then a wash of nausea

would still hit her as if she’d just left the boat.

After a week, she had to finally admit her seasickness wasn’t going away—and that it might be

something else. Something much worse. She made a lunchtime appointment with a doctor near the

office.

“So, you’re not feeling well? Tell me what’s not right,” the doctor said, flicking her long hair out of the way of her note pad.

“I’ve just come off working on a ship for six years,” Michaela began.

“Wow, that must be a big change.”

“Well, yeah, but I just don’t feel right. It’s been well over a week. I should have gotten over any issues with seasickness by now, shouldn’t I? I mean, I’ve had a few bouts with my land legs deserting me in the past, but it’s never lasted more than a day or two.”

“Hmm, yes. I would have thought you’d be feeling better by now,” the doctor said as she nodded her

head.

“I’m just a bit nervous that I’ve picked up some weird tropical bug. We were always warned about it on board, and there was hand cleanser everywhere to try and stop the spread of any type of germs. You

can imagine what it’s like if a stomach bug hits a ship of three thousand people with nowhere to go.”

“I hate to think. Tell me more about your symptoms.”

Michaela detailed the jet lag feelings, the nausea, and her general dislocation. But when she’d finished the doctor didn’t look at all perturbed—quite the opposite. She gave Michaela a gentle smile. “I can’t rule out the tropical bug possibility unless we do some tests, but there might be a more simple issue.

When was your last cycle?”

“Cycle?”

“Your period. When did you last have one?”

“I don’t know,” Michaela said, growing more worried. This couldn’t be… Swallowing hard, she bit her lip.

“I’ve been pretty irregular lately. But I don’t see what—”

“Could you be pregnant?”

The words that should have come out of Michaela’s mouth remained stuck, hard pellets of hope and

fear and wonder in her throat. Could she be pregnant? The answer was one she didn’t really want to

contemplate. But Dylan’s face in their Vanuatu hideaway flashed into her mind. They’d been caught up

in the moment at first, but…

“No, I’ve always used protection.”

“Always?”

“Pretty much,” she said.

“Given that wasn’t an emphatic ‘yes,’ I think it would be simplest if we ruled out pregnancy first before we start doing any more complicated tests for a tropical parasite. Do you think you could pop along the hall and get a sample? Then we’ll do a test. I imagine you know what I mean.” The doctor opened a

drawer and held out a small cup along with a thin package, its transparent strip revealing a slender

plastic stick with a pink tip. Michaela paled.

“I, um, do you really think? Perhaps I could do it at home.”“I think you should take a test now. If you’ve been feeling this way for a while and you are pregnant, we’ll want to check how far along you are.”

“I can’t be pregnant.”

“Then all we’ll get is a negative result. Nothing to worry about.”

Michaela bit a nail. This couldn’t be happening. Maybe if she closed her eyes…

When she opened them, the doctor gave her a concerned smile. “It’s best to find out one way or the

other.”

“I just…I really have to get back to work.” Flustered, she looked down at her wrist before remembering she hadn’t worn a watch. Idiot.

The doctor sighed. “If I give you a test to take home, do you promise to take it?”

Michaela nodded.

“Okay. If you’re sure you have to go now.”

“I do.”

Michaela took the test and stuffed the package and its intimidating pink-tipped contents into her bag quickly before the woman changed her mind.

“Here, you better take a couple in case one isn’t clear.”

Michaela nodded, lost for words. After she’d accepted the tests, she left the doctor’s surgery at a near run.

Pregnant?

She couldn’t be. Not when she had only just started this job and her supervisors were so happy with her progress. Not when she hardly knew anyone in this town.

And definitely not without Dylan, a tiny voice in her head said.

What were the chances of that moment of overwhelming desire leading to a baby? Practically

nonexistent. Infinitesimal.

Impossible.

They’d used a condom when it counted.I’m not pregnant,” she reassured herself. “It’s just my land legs taking longer to come back. I was at sea for a long time. I’ll be fine soon.”

Once decided, Michaela relegated the very possibility of a baby firmly to the bottom of her bag along with the pregnancy tests. They had used protection, after all.

They had, they had, they had. She repeated the mantra over and over under her breath on her walk

back to the office.

By the time she got there, she believed it.

That afternoon she’d planned to tidy up the old files on her computer desktop. Each folder had around a hundred files in it, and Michaela was immersed for hours, working out what each file related to and

undoing the complicated muddle of other people’s thoughts to make a proper system. Then she clicked

on a file marked “dance team,” and without warning the words Dylan Johns jumped out at her. Her

heart picked up its tempo. Putting her hands on her desk, Michaela pushed herself away from the

computer and stood up. She walked away from the name on her screen and tried to calm the thud of

her blood.

You were going to read something about him sooner or later. You probably have the personnel files of

every dancer who ever worked for Adventurer Cruises on your computer.

That didn’t mean she had to look at them.

Moving through the simple act of making a cup of peppermint tea, Michaela took long breaths in and

out. Breathe in, breathe out, you’re in control, you’re in charge.

But back at her desk, Dylan’s name stood out as if it were typed in bold, italicized, and underlined. Just for a moment, Michaela let the name bring back a wash of memory…

Dylan looking down at her as they stood together bathed in a tropical sunset. Dylan bursting out of the water, a giant clamshell in his hand and a brilliant smile on his face. Dylan’s sated green eyes looking down at her as they lay under the gossamer white drapes of their Vanuatu resort bed.

Enough. She moved the file into the appropriate folder, determined to block any more thoughts of Dylan from her mind. Every time his face flickered into her brain, she replaced it with the image of a bowl of ice-cream. She was in control, she was in charge, she was going to have to stop by the store on the way home for a tub of cookies and cream.

The day ended with no more mishaps, and Michaela walked back to her hotel happy with what she had

achieved. It was only as she drifted off to sleep that the rest of the day’s activities began to play across her mind.

The dream she fell into was real. Entirely real. Reaching into her purse, she pulled out a pregnancy test and handed it to Dylan. The thin line showed a positive result, and Dylan’s green eyes sparkled as he took it from her. But she realized his eyes weren’t sparkling with joy, they were sparkling with malice.

She watched, helpless, as Dylan snapped the test stick in half and snarled at her with an angry wolf’s face. Centimeters from her nose, his long teeth glinted, and he opened his mouth—but instead of

devouring her, he whispered, “You’re dreaming.”

Michaela woke in a sweat a full hour before her alarm was due to go off. As her heart rate calmed, the only emotion she allowed herself was relief that it hadn’t been real. Crazy, she hardly ever had dreams like that.

Maybe it’s because you’re pregnant, a small voice said.

“No.” The word came out louder than she intended.

Maybe it’s because you miss Dylan?

She sighed. It wouldn’t do her any good to yearn for Dylan. He was a lone wolf. He’d practically said so himself.

A wolf. He might have run off at the last, but he wasn’t vicious. She shook her head, determined not to think about Dylan or the possibility that she might be pregnant. Scared of falling back into the

nightmare, Michaela got up and scanned through the apartment notices in the daily paper the hotel

staff had pushed under her door. It was time she got on with her life and moved out of this hotel. The company had paid for her first week, but the hotel fees were now starting to eat into her pocketbook.

She circled a few possible apartments and decided she’d go and have a look over her lunch break.

“Onward and upward,” she said as she walked out the door to the office.

At work, however, she found her fingers moving the mouse pointer to hover over the file containing

Dylan’s details. I’ll just have a quick look to put it to rest so I don’t have any more of those nightmares.

“Contact care of McCray’s Finance,” she read out loud. Odd.

Clicking through the city listings, she found that McCray’s was on a road parallel to the street she was in now.

At lunchtime, telling herself she was going to check out an apartment that was just a few blocks away, Michaela walked to McCray’s Finance. It was housed in an impressive building, the clean lines of glass reflecting the clear blue Sydney sky. People walked quickly in and out, all dressed in suits and talking on cell phones or sipping at take-out coffee, the picture of busy corporate life. In the foyer, she could see a beautiful artwork, the reds of the Australian outback contrasting against green. Emerald green.

“Oh, excuse me.” One of the workers crashed into her as she took a step back to get the large painting in perspective. She turned and looked up into oceans of green. Holy hell. The man could have been Dylan’s twin—the same eyes, the same dark hair—but this man wore a sharp suit, carried a briefcase, and had a harried look about him that wasn’t Dylan’s.

“Michaela?”

But it was his voice. Her blood froze, her whole being frozen to the spot in shock.

“Oh my God, it is you,” he said. “What are you doing here? I mean, sorry, how are you? I’m so sorry

again for leaving like I did.”

A flicker of the old Dylan flourished in the man’s eyes, but Michaela couldn’t believe it was him.

Conscious she was staring, she pulled herself together. “Dylan? I thought you said it was a little family business?” She gestured at the building. She’d pictured a mom-and-pop shop, eight, maybe ten people

maximum. Not that he’d elucidated.

What an . He’d clearly kept her in the dark on purpose. She didn’t know this man at all.

He looked down. “I don’t think I ever said it was little. This is the family business.”

“This? This is all yours? But your last name… Johns?”

Dylan looked at the woman he’d been forced to abandon long before he was ready. His heart swelled.

Oh, she was a beautiful sight for his sore eyes. But his delight was short-lived. She was angry, her mouth downturned and her forehead furrowed.

Fair enough. His guilt at leaving her without explanation still kept him up some nights.

He realized his pause was making her ever angrier. “My mother is the McCray. My father named the

company after her when he started it years ago.”

When he’d decided not to return to the ship, Dylan had been in a state of shock. He had thought

disappearing and letting Michaela get on with her life was the right thing to do—the only thing he could do, considering the circumstances. But in the dark morning hours, sitting beside his mother’s bedside, his mind had wandered through the alternatives. He’d been forced to leave the ship, there was no

question of that, but leaving Michaela?

In the end, he’d settled on a truth that made the most sense to him. They’d agreed on three months.

She wanted to focus on her career. He could never give her the family, the husband she wanted and

deserved. Work took up too much of his time and energy.

It would only have gotten harder for her—harder for both of them—the longer they drew it out. A clean break was the best option.

Now, the result of that option was staring at him, and the wound he saw in Michaela’s expression was

anything but clean. Oh, what a mistake he’d made. She had been in his thoughts often enough, but he’d hoped she hadn’t felt his disappearance as keenly as he’d felt the pain of walking away from her.

She pasted on a smile that made his chest ache. “The girls on the dance team all joked that you were a stockbroker after you didn’t seem to care about losing the rest of your pay, but I never thought…”

“I’m not a stockbroker, but they weren’t that far off. My family firm runs a funds management service.

Well, we run several, actually.” He looked at her, checking that she wasn’t about to break down.

“So you are loaded.” Michaela drew herself up to her full height.

He managed not to smile. She was some woman—strong and brave even in the worst circumstances.

He searched for something more neutral to talk about. “And you? On a break?”

“I got promoted to head office,” she said.

Head office. That meant she was in Sydney. Full-time. Great that she’d got the step up she wanted.

Great she was off the boat. Maybe they could—could what? All his calculations crumbled around him.

Michaela was here in Sydney. Available? Dylan’s head hummed with the possibilities. “Great. Probably a perfect fit for you…”