His Prisoner in Paradise. Trish Morey

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him marching into Fletcher’s hospital ward and pulling him off his life support.

      He appreciated the loyalty, but while once upon a time he’d have settled contests with his fists, those days were gone. These days he preferred to use subtler, even if more expensive, means. Not that he couldn’t afford it.

      ‘He’s already flown the coop and taken Monica to Hawaii—and left the wedding planner to convince me the wedding’s kosher, no doubt to secure a higher settlement.’

      ‘Like hell it’s kosher! Okay, boss, I’m onto it.’

      ‘And Jo—something else you should know.’

      ‘What’s that?’

      ‘The wedding planner, Sophie Turner, she’s claiming to be Fletcher’s sister.’

      Jo whistled through his teeth. ‘I never knew Fletcher had a sister.’

      ‘Neither did I. That’s one of the things I want you to check. If she’s not his sister, she’s probably in on some kind of percentage from a settlement to make him disappear. And if she is his sister…’

      ‘Given her scum dog of a brother, she’d be even less trustworthy.’

      ‘Exactly what I was thinking,’ Daniel agreed before he hung up, still leaning over his desk, hauling air into his lungs as his brain made the connections. Fletcher had to have taken Monica to Hawaii for two reasons—first, to ensure nobody could arrive in Brisbane while Fletcher wasn’t around and bundle her on the next flight back to Cairns to talk her out of making the biggest mistake of her life, and secondly to suck her further and further into his web.

      Meanwhile the sweet Miss Turner had the job of playing the supporting role at home to make it look like the wedding was real, no doubt in the hope it would crank up any pay-off offered to Fletcher.

      He growled. If she’d been speaking the truth, then he’d had Fletcher’s sister right here in his office and he’d let her walk away. God, he’d even held her in his arms and all but kissed her. Fletcher’s damned sister. What had he been thinking?

       But he hadn’t been thinking then, not beyond the silkysmooth perfection of her skin, the unusual blue of her eyes, and the tantalising scent of woman.

      So much for wanting to make a point about the irrationality of things happening too quickly. If she hadn’t stopped him, if she hadn’t pushed him away, he doubted he could have stopped himself.

      Not the point he’d been trying to make at all. But Monica’s news had thrown him for six. No wonder he hadn’t been thinking straight.

      But he was thinking straight now.

      The old and familiar competitiveness cranked back into life. Fletcher would soon be sitting in his five-star hotel suite waiting to hear from his sister about Daniel’s reaction, rubbing his hands together in glee while he waited for a nice plump offer for him to disappear to drop into his lap.

      The last thing he’d be expecting would be for Daniel to join in the game. If Fletcher wanted to play ‘whisk away the sister’, why couldn’t Daniel do likewise?

      Maybe he should just whisk away one Miss Sophie Turner for however long it took.

       And he sure as hell wouldn’t let her go again until he knew Moni was safe.

      He glanced at his watch. They should be nearing the airport by now. Miss Turner would be thinking she was just about home free.

      He picked up the telephone again, punching in another number and smiling for what felt like the first time today, already anticipating her confusion. ‘Cedric, there’s been a change of plans…’

      

      Sophie pushed back into the butter-soft upholstery, willing herself to relax. She’d almost turned her back on the car waiting for her when she’d emerged from the lobby. She’d had enough of Daniel Caruana for one day, and she’d wanted nothing more to do with him and his. But the driver had greeted her with a friendly smile and, much as she resented his boss, she’d had no reason to be rude to an innocent driver—especially one who was probably smiling in relief because it wasn’t Mr Arrogance himself that he was picking up. Besides, she’d had no idea how long it would take to wait for a taxi this far north of Cairns, and the sooner she made it to the airport, the better chance she would have of catching an earlier flight back to Brisbane.

      So she’d allowed herself to be handed into the spacious interior of the luxury sedan, satisfied at least that every minute took her another kilometre from Daniel Caruana.

      She sighed and dropped her head back against the head rest, closing her eyes and wondering what she was going to tell Jake and Monica. They’d expected resistance to the wedding news, certainly, but Daniel hadn’t even given her a chance to explain the wedding arrangements and the fact that nobody was expecting him to pay for anything. Not that he would have believed her, given he’d already made his mind up on that point.

      Apparently nobody went out with his sister unless they were gold-digging fortune-hunters looking for nothing more than a juicy pay-out. And of course he wouldn’t care who was supposed to stump up for the wedding bills. Hadn’t he already made it plain that there was to be no wedding?

      Sophie put a hand to her forehead, her fingers trying to stroke away her tension as the car continued down the palm-lined highway towards the city of Cairns and the airport that promised escape. How on earth had Jake ever thought she’d be able to convince someone like Daniel Caruana that this wedding was a good idea? And how was she going to tell him that she’d blown her peace-keeping role big time?

      She opened her eyes in time to see the sign signalling the turn off for James Cook Airport. She sighed in relief. At least she’d soon be away from here. Away from Daniel Caruana, the man who could be her brother-in-law.

      The man who had almost kissed her…

      She jammed her eyes shut, trying to blot away the memories, but she could still feel the brush of his lips, could still smell his intoxicating, masculine scent weaving its way into her senses as his fingers worked their way into her hair and directed her face towards his.

      When he’d told her that if he had mauled her she’d have the marks to prove it…Oh my. Sophie dragged in a lungful of air, hot and breathless, the car’s air conditioning was suddenly found wanting. Thank goodness she’d found the sense to turn away before she made more of a fool of herself than she already had.

      What was his point? Had he been trying to convince her he was the red-hot lover the tabloids hinted at? Or had he just been toying with her, like some random plaything, before throwing her out?

      Either way, the man clearly had no conscience. She was glad she’d have nothing more to do with him. At least not until the wedding—if he even bothered to show up.

      Then she smiled. If there had been one glimmer of satisfaction she could take from this morning’s meeting, it had been the moment before she’d left, when she’d finally had the opportunity to tell him she was Jake’s sister. In the scant seconds after her revelation, and before she’d pulled the door closed behind her, she’d seen his look of smug dismissal give way to shock and a kind of numb disbelief.

      So maybe she hadn’t managed to convince Mr Hot Shot Caruana to

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