his trousers. ‘She’s totally unsuitable. Too young, too feisty, too—’
‘Beautiful?’ Liz interrupted. ‘You did notice, didn’t you, or has all work and no play made you a dull boy?’
A vision of Sam flashed into his mind, those startling green eyes staring at him as he’d touched her silky-soft cheek. Thankfully, she’d been looking at his face and not lower, where the evidence of how she’d affected him would have been plain to see beneath the cotton towel.
‘I noticed,’ he said, wondering if it sounded like the understatement of the year. ‘Though what her looks have to do with it, I’ll never know. It’s her qualifications I’m interested in.’
Liz nodded and gave him one of those knowing smiles, the kind she’d been bestowing since he’d eaten his first bug against her instructions and thrown up, at four years of age. ‘She came highly recommended. I spoke with Ebony Larkin, her main referee.’
His eyebrows shot up. ‘She’s worked for the Larkins?’
Liz nodded. ‘Trust me, darling. I wouldn’t have hired just anybody to be your butler. I know how much you need the help.’
‘I’m doing fine on my own, Mum.’
‘No, you’re not. Between running the business, inspecting the lands around Budgeree and looking after the family, you’re worn out.’ She paused and he waited for the inevitable reference to his single status. Predictably, his mother didn’t disappoint. ‘Besides, you never have time for fun any more. When are you going to meet a nice young woman to make your life complete?’
‘My life is complete and I like it just the way it is, thanks very much.’ He ignored the swift rising bitterness whenever the subject of women entered their conversations. He’d tried the relationship merry-go-round and had hopped off as soon as humanly possible, managing to get his heart trampled in the process. As far as he was concerned, women and serious commitment didn’t belong in the same sentence, especially with females who looked good, had the right family credentials yet lied through their expensively-capped teeth to get what they wanted. Which, in his case, happened to be the Harmon name and fortune.
And he’d worked too damn hard to let his family’s wealth fall into unscrupulous hands.
‘You don’t have to prove anything to anyone, Son. You’ve taken this business to the next level all on your own.’
‘But Dad would’ve wanted more.’ Hell, his ambitious father wouldn’t have stopped till he owned the whole of Victoria and then some.
‘He would’ve wanted you to be happy, not running yourself into the ground.’ She didn’t have to add, like he did.
His workaholic father had taken the word ‘work’ to new levels, driving himself to skyrocketing profit margins but into an early grave in the process. Dylan still missed him after ten years.
‘Besides, don’t you think you’re taking the role of family protector a tad too seriously? Most of us can take care of ourselves, you know.’
Dylan rolled his eyes. ‘Yeah, sure. Then why is Meg running around placing racy underwear in my drawer? And why is Allie traipsing round the world like a lost soul?’ He stared at his mother, noting her wrinkle-free skin, the clear eyes, the black hair with barely a grey streak. ‘Not to mention you.’
The corners of Liz’s mouth twitched. ‘Your nieces are more than capable of taking care of themselves. Besides, what have I done?’
He tried a frown and failed. ‘You’re trying to matchmake yet again. And I’m not interested.’
His mother smirked. ‘I’m not trying anything. If you’ve got romantic thoughts where the new butler is concerned, that’s not my doing.’
‘The butler?’ Sam Piper and him, romantically linked? Not a hope in hell. He shook his head, trying to ignore her alluring image again. ‘No, Mum, I was talking about Monique and that dinner party you’ve organised. Didn’t you think I’d see through the ruse?’
This time Liz laughed outright. ‘You’re getting paranoid, love. There’s no ruse, no hidden agendas. I just thought it was time we got together with our oldest family friends. If you find Monique attractive, that’s up to you.’
Funnily enough, the thought of spending a sophisticated evening dining with the exquisite Monique Taylor and her parents didn’t hold half the appeal it once had. He’d grown up with the leggy brunette and had dabbled in a kiss or two once they’d reached their late teens, but he’d never been interested in taking it further. Though Monique was beautiful, educated and attuned to his world, there was no spark to light his fire. Not that she hadn’t tried, many times.
Dylan relented. ‘Okay, it will be nice to catch up with the Taylors but, just to let you know, there won’t be any romance between Monique and I, ever. She isn’t my type.’
His mother was no slouch when it came to matchmaking her only son and she latched on to his last words in a flash. ‘Oh? Then what is your type?’
A petite woman, with short blonde curls, green eyes he could drown in and a cheeky smile that just wouldn’t quit. The thought popped unbidden into his mind and, for the umpteenth time in the last half hour, he wondered if he’d lost a grip on reality since he’d laid eyes on his new butler.
He stood quickly and made for the door. ‘Bye, Mum. I have a meeting scheduled.’
Liz smiled knowingly. ‘Run all you like, Son, but you can’t hide from love for ever.’
Dylan refrained from answering. The day he fell in love would be the day he surrendered his sanity and he had no intention of doing that. He had too much to do yet to fulfil his dad’s wishes, the one driving force that kept him going these days.
Him, in love? No way.
CHAPTER TWO
SAM paced the study while waiting for Dylan. She couldn’t believe the way she’d reacted to him—stupid, stupid, stupid! She’d known what she was letting herself in for when she had applied for this job. After all, she’d heard about Dylan’s charms firsthand from Ebony, whose family had known the Harmons for ever. Ebony had extolled high-and-mighty Dylan’s virtues for a full hour before Sam had covered her ears and yelled ‘la-la-la’. If she’d heard one more word about the rich, handsome, responsible, caring man soon to be her boss, she would’ve thrown up.
So, she’d steeled herself for the challenge at hand, knowing that Dylan’s looks would have little effect if she set her mind to doing a good job to prove a point to her snobby family. She’d focused all her energy on taking a crash course on butler etiquette, Ebony-style. Thankfully, her best friend had come through for her in every way, going as far as giving her a fake reference when Liz Harmon had called after the gruelling interview she’d endured.
Now that she was here at the Harmon mansion in the posh Melbourne suburb of Toorak, she should be ecstatic. If she could last the distance in this job it would prove to her family once and for all that she could eke out an existence for herself, without their prehistoric expectations for her to marry and produce heirs to continue the royal line. Not that her title meant anything here in Australia; in fact, most of her Russian ancestors had reneged on their royal heritage a century ago, but not her family.
