Pleasured in the Playboy's Penthouse. Natalie Anderson

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and he joined in. He was hungry. He’d splashed up the beach over an hour ago now. He hadn’t been able to be bothered fixing something for himself, figured he’d get a meal to take away from the restaurant. Only now he’d found something better to take back with him.

      ‘Oh, no.’ The look on her face was comical.

      ‘What?’ he asked.

      ‘Some of my family has arrived.’

      ‘It’s time for drinks, then, huh?’ He turned his head in the direction she was staring. Inwardly cursing. Just when she was getting warmed up.

      He saw the tall blonde looking over at them speculatively. When she saw them notice her, she strode over, long legs making short work of the distance.

      ‘Bella. So sorry,’ she clipped. ‘It’s your birthday and you’re here all alone.’

      What? thought Owen. Was he suddenly invisible?

      ‘I can’t believe you didn’t remind us,’ the blonde continued, still ignoring him.

      ‘I didn’t want to say anything.’ For a second he saw the pain in Bella’s eyes. A surge of anger hit him.

      He realised what she’d done. She’d tested them. And they’d failed.

      ‘Don’t worry.’ He spoke up. ‘She’s not alone. It’s just that we wanted to have our own private celebration.’

      The blonde looked at him then, frosty faced. ‘And you are?’

      ‘Owen,’ he answered, as if that explained it all.

      ‘Owen.’ She glanced to Bella and then back to give him the once-over. He watched her coldness thaw to a sugary smile as she checked out his watch and his shoes. He knew she recognised the brands. Yes, darling, he thought, I’m loaded. And it was one thing Bella hadn’t noticed. He found it refreshing.

      ‘It seems you’ve been keeping a few things to yourself lately, Isabella.’

      Owen looked at Bella. There was a plea in her eyes he couldn’t ignore.

      The silence deepened, becoming more awkward as he kept his focus on her. And a tinge of amusement tugged when finally the willowy blonde spoke, sounding disconcerted. ‘I’ll leave you to your meal, then.’

      ‘Thank you,’ Owen answered, not taking his gaze off Bella. He was never normally so rude, but he could do arrogance when necessary. And when he’d seen the hurt in Bella’s eyes he’d known it was necessary. The irrational need to help her, to support her, had bitten him. Stupid. Because Owen wasn’t the sort to do support. Ordinarily he did all he could to avoid any show of interest or involvement other than the purely physical, purely fun. He’d made that mistake before and been pushed too close to commitment as a result. His ex-girlfriend had wanted the ring, the ceremony, the works. He hadn’t. But then she’d tried to force it in a way he totally resented her for. The experience had been so bad he was determined to make damn sure it didn’t happen again. He no longer had relationships. He had flings.

      But now he simply hoped that his brush-off would be reported back to the rest of the family and they’d all stay away for a bit.

      The waiter arrived with the first plates, breaking the moment. Bella was busy picking up her fork, but he could see her struggling to hold back her smile.

      He waited until she’d swallowed her first bite. ‘Am I invited now?’

      ‘If I do, your job is to entertain me, right?’ Her smile was freed. ‘No eyeing up my beautiful cousins.’

      He didn’t need anyone else to eye up. And he’d entertain her all night and then some if she wanted. But he played the tease some more. ‘How beautiful are they?’

      She stared down her majestic nose at him. ‘You just met one of them.’

      ‘Her?’ he asked, putting on surprise. ‘She’s not beautiful.’

      Her expression of disbelief was magic.

      He laughed. ‘She’s not. So she’s tall and blonde. So what? They’re a dime a dozen. I’d far rather spend time with someone interesting.’ He’d done tall and blonde many times over in his past. These days he was searching for something a little different.

      She ignored him. ‘No getting wildly drunk and embarrassing me. That isn’t why you want to go, is it? The free booze?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘Then why?’

      The truth slipped out. ‘I want to see you have a really good time. A really, really good time.’

      He did too. And he knew he could give it to her, and how. There was a baseline sizzle between them that was intense and undeniable. He’d seen the recognition, the jolt of awareness in her expression the moment their gazes had first locked. It was what she needed; it was what he needed. And he’d happily spend the weekend at her dull family wedding to get it. He’d put up with a lot more to get it if he had to.

      On top of that primary, physical attraction, she was funny. Smart. Definitely a little bitter. And he liked her smile. He liked to make her smile.

      As their dinner progressed it was nice to forget about everything for a moment as he concentrated wholly on her. He pulled his mobile out of his pocket and flicked it to Vibrate, pushing work from his mind. He was supposed to be having a couple of hours off after all. Like forty-eight.

      He saw her glance into the main body of the restaurant as it filled. Saw her attention turn from him to whatever the deal was about tomorrow.

      ‘It’s going to be a massive wedding,’ she said gloomily. ‘The whole family and extended family and friends and everyone.’

      ‘All that fuss for nothing.’ He just couldn’t see the point of it. Nor could he see why it was such a problem for her.

      ‘All that money for just one day.’ She shook her head. Her hair feathered out; shoulder length, it was a light wavy brown. He wanted to lean over and feel it fly over his face.

      ‘Do you know how much she’s spent on the dress?’

      So money was some of it. ‘I hate to think.’ His drollery seemed to pass her by.

      ‘And I’ve got the most hideous bridesmaid’s dress. Hideous.’

      ‘You’ll look gorgeous.’ She was such a cute package she could wear anything and look good.

      ‘You don’t understand,’ she said mournfully. ‘It’s a cast of thousands. Celia—the gorgeous cousin—is one too. And there are others.’ The little frown was back.

      Her every emotion seemed to play out on her face—she was highly readable. If she could control it, learn to manipulate it, then she’d make a very good actress.

      ‘The dress suits all of them, of course.’

      ‘Of course.’ And she was worried about what she looked like—what woman wasn’t? He’d be happy to reassure her, spend some

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