The Millionaire (5 page)

Home. Her grandparents’ property,
The Plains
, held a special place in Ellie’s heart. It had become a place of refuge and healing for her, twenty-one years before, when she’d needed it the most. It was the summer holidays of the year she’d turned eleven and she’d managed to convince her parents, both nurses, that she was responsible enough to stay alone until they got home from their early shift. Being an only child, she’d learnt to be independent from an early age and relished the time alone. She got to watch her favourite movies and turn her favourite radio station up too loud; bring her cat Leo inside and let him sit on her lap on the sofa, something she wasn’t allowed to do when her parents were home. She had responsibility and freedom all at the same time. And it had all worked well, until the day she’d tried to boil an egg for lunch.

She’d left the handle of the saucepan pointing outwards and she’d knocked it. The near boiling water had spilled over her, soaking up in her T-shirt, clinging to her, searing her skin. She could still hear her own screams. She’d called an ambulance herself and was taken to the same hospital where her parents worked, their racking sobs echoing in the emergency room when they’d seen her for the first time.

A month later, Ellie went to
The Plains.
Her parents had figured it would be easier for her that way, to be away from Sydney’s beaches and pools, not having to invent excuses about why she had to stay out of the sun or why she might want to hide her body. And in her grandparents’ comforting embrace, she learnt she didn’t have to hide herself away. She wore clothes that were comfortable in the heat without fearing the looks or stares of strangers. Within the fences of
The Plains
, she was free to be who she was, to not be afraid or embarrassed.

Her grandfather’s recent health scare had shocked her to the core. The thought that these two wonderful people, who’d embraced her and shown her compassion and love, should be separated, was unbearable. Her way of saying thanks for his survival was to give her time and her energy to the service that had saved his life.

And she’d had loads of that enthusiasm and passion – until today. Until she’d failed as a reporter and failed as a volunteer fundraiser. Now, she felt humiliated and small. She’d been scolded like a child by her boss and as a result, every ugly doubt about her ability nagged at her once again, and her much-tested confidence felt as wilted as a flower in a heatwave.

She really needed wine and chocolate. Or perhaps just wine.

When the doorbell rang, her stomach growled.

“Coming,” she called as she grabbed her purse and trudged to the front door. When she yanked it open, she realised the day from hell was about to descend even further.

Because it was Chris Malone.

‡

I
f Ellie’s day
had been crazy up until this point, it was now spinning into orbit.

Chris Malone was standing on her doorstep. Looking tall and tanned, and wearing the same well-worn and sexy outfit she’d seen him in earlier that morning at One Mile Beach. Anyone who said a soft grey T-shirt and worn jeans wasn’t sexy should have their heads read. And even though Ellie was less impressed with him right now than she had been ten hours ago, and really, really trying not to be impressed with him at all, it was still him. Even though he’d been rude and said no, he was still the creative genius she’d admired for years. And that body of his was sending her hormones on dangerously high alert, like an Australian country town on a bushfire day.

“Hey.” He pushed his sunglasses onto his head and his lips curved ever so slightly into a glimmer of a smile. His eyebrows rose in what some people might interpret as a friendly gesture, but Ellie could see through it. His eyes weren’t smiling. Those sapphire pools of gorgeousness looked as hard as the stone itself. The realisation that he was putting on a performance set Ellie even further on edge.

“Hello.” She was trying very hard for I-Don’t-Care-Who-Are nonchalance.

“We didn’t actually properly meet before. I’m Chris Malone.” He held out a hand but Ellie glared at it.

“Of course you are. And if you’ve tracked me down to my house, like some kind of stalker, you clearly already know who I am.”

“Yes I do. Ellie Flannery. Nice name. Irish?”

“Look, let’s cut the small talk. I know why you’re here. You’ve seen the news reports, haven’t you?”

“Yes.” The pretend smile disappeared.

“And you’ve come to berate me for it, right?” She crossed her arms and stared up at him. “Well join the bloody club.”

Chris looked down at her curiously. “Why are you in trouble over it?”

“Because apparently I’m not half the journalist my friend Bron is, even though she’s given the whole rat race away to have babies.”

They both heard the squeak of a screen door and turned towards the noise.

Ellie’s neighbour, Mrs. Dexter, stepped outside and peered in their direction. The old woman had been her neighbour for three years and could talk for Australia. Most times, Ellie didn’t mind a chat and her company, and she really was a lovely old lady, but Ellie so didn’t need to be engaged in a conversation with her right now. Not when she had a Norse god on her doorstep, a day from the seventh circle of hell behind her, and a vicious craving for chocolate. And where was her takeaway?

“You all right, Ellie dear? I heard some shouting.”

Ellie peered around Chris’s enormous shoulders and gave her neighbour a cheery wave. “Everything’s fine, Mrs. D. Just having a joke here.”

Mrs. Dexter might have been eighty-two years old and short-sighted, but she clearly still had radar for a handsome man, because she slowly started walking in Ellie and Chris’s direction.

“Hello, young man. Here to visit our Ellie? How lovely. It’s been a long time since she had a man come calling. Ooh, and such a handsome one, too.”

“Oh no,” Ellie murmured under her breath.

Chris looked at her with a sexily raised eyebrow.

She had two choices. Old lady or world’s most handsome man?

It was a no brainer.

“I’ll catch up with you, Mrs. D. I’m making that Jubilee Cake I was telling you about, and I haven’t forgotten it’s my turn to do morning tea. But this young man and I have some business to sort out.” Ellie waved at her neighbour who waved back and turned back to her house.

Then she reached for Chris’s arm and pulled him towards her. “Inside. Now.”

*

That was how
she ended up slammed up against Chris Malone in her hallway. She’d tugged him inside, closed the door behind them, lost her footing and ended up bang up against him, pressed against Chris’s hard as rock chest.

Ellie had learned to walk when she was ten months old, according to her parents. So coordinated, they’d bragged to every relative, perhaps a future sports star for Australia. How was it then that her feet had failed her and she couldn’t seem to move?

And likewise with her breathing. She must have been doing that since the minute she popped into the world, but for the life of her, she seemed to forget how to do that, too.

Because Chris Malone, that’s why.

He smelled of the ocean and some kind of musky scent she couldn’t place. He felt strong and solid and all man. Ellie lifted her head up so she could look into his face and when he tilted his chin so he could meet her eyes, the ends of his long blond hair tickled her cheek. His shimmery golden beard shadowed his jaw and those eyes, which had seemed so hard before, softened as she gazed into them. Those eyes, which she knew had seen so much in so many terrible places, were making her nervous. Ellie didn’t dare move. If she lifted her hands to steady herself she’d have to touch his strong arms, his muscled arms, and being pressed against him was torture enough.

He moved instead and that was even worse. As his eyes found her mouth and his hands found her hips, he exerted a gentle pressure on the curves he found there. Ellie’s heart pounded like a drum. She wasn’t sure if he was trying to push her away or hold her there.

“Sorry,” she said.

“No trouble,” he said, his voice a gruff whisper.

And then the air squeezed out of Ellie’s lungs and she blinked him away. She had to. She stepped sideways, took a deep breath. She snapped back to reality. Her reality. Where world famous photographers – or any man for that matter – didn’t turn up on her doorstep without an ulterior motive. And she had a pretty good idea about what his was.

“Listen, Malone,” she sighed. “I’ve already had the day from hell. Why are you here? How did you find out my name? Not to mention where I live.”

“You’re such a reporter, you know that?”

“Not everyone seems to think so.” It still stung to think about what her boss had said to her.

“I’ve got a question for you, Flannery. How did you know I was going to be at One Mile Beach?” His narrowed eyes were suspicious.

He probably thought she’d been chasing him all over Sydney for an exclusive interview.

“It was a total coincidence,” she said. “I was up there to visit my friend and my goddaughter and I went for a walk on the beach, because it was a beautiful morning. What are you doing back in Sydney?”

Chris regarded her for a moment. “I was looking for some peace and quiet and trying to stay away from people like you.”

“What do you mean people like me?”

“I mean, people who want something from me. An interview. Money. You know how often I get requests like yours? Every damn day. And I don’t appreciate the way you’ve portrayed me.”

“Some of us out in the real world have no option but to ask for money, Mr. Malone. The Royal Flying Doctor is a bloody good cause and it relies on public donations to do its work. So I’m sorry Mr… Mr. Rich Boy Smartypants, if you were offended by my request.”

“Hang on one minute.” Chris’s voice was steely. “You never said you were asking on behalf of the Flying Doctor. As far as I knew, you could have been representing any one of a hundred dodgy charities that I wouldn’t give two cents to.”

“You hardly gave me a chance to explain. You turned your back and left pretty damn quick.” Ellie was a mix of confusion, admiration, and flat-out desire for him and all that manifested itself in the pointed finger she was aiming at Chris. She couldn’t help herself. She jabbed her index finger into his belly. It bounced back. Was anything about this man soft?

He grabbed her hand and held it. His fingers dwarfed her wrist. For a moment they were skin on skin, his touch sending shivers up her arm and bam, right to her chest.

After a long moment, he gently released her. “You don’t know anything about my life or what I do out of the headlines.”

“I know more than you think.” She glared up at him and then wanted to kick herself for letting that particular cat out of the bag. She knew so much about him she could write a book. Except for the one thing she was most interested in: why he’d turned his back on his wealth and privilege?

“Mr. Rich Boy Smartypants?” His chest rose and fell in a hard exhalation and then he grinned. He ran one of his strong hands through his hair. “You think that’s my life, huh?”

“Well… anyone in Sydney knows about the Malone family and your history. And all those rumours about you being engaged to that European princess just confirm it.”

That was the question she’d failed to ask him earlier. If she were a decent journalist, she wouldn’t waste this chance to get an answer out of him. But when the words were hanging in the air between them, a curious feeling lodged in her chest. The idea of his arms around another woman stung. So, it wasn’t just his photos she’d admired. She’d had a crush on him for years. The idea of him, she corrected herself. Not the real him. Because the real Chris Malone was turning out to be someone not quite so admirable after all.

“Why does everyone keep asking me about her?” He met the challenge in her eyes with a pretty good one of his own.

Ellie flicked a glance at his left hand. “Because everyone’s wondering that if you’re madly in love and engaged to Princess Whatever-The-Hell-Her-Name-Is, Designer-Clothes-Wearing, Skiing-Holidays-in-Gstaad Gothe von Hindenburg, what are you doing back in Australia without her?”