How to Bag a Billionaire. Nina Milne

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How to Bag a Billionaire - Nina Milne Mills & Boon Modern Tempted

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that conceded the devil had a point.

      One hand slammed on her hip even as the other held the dress up. ‘I admit I’ve broken into your hotel, but I did not throw myself at you. I promise you I haven’t risked arrest for the supposed pleasure of “bagging” you.’

      For a moment he studied her face and she met his gaze full-on, saw something flicker in the milk chocolate depths. She prayed he could hear the truth in her voice. Otherwise he would have her marched out of here any second now and she couldn’t let that happen. There was way too much at stake here—and not just for herself.

      ‘Please,’ she said. ‘I understand why you are suspicious but you don’t need to be. I promise. Give me a chance to prove it to you. Hear me out. Please.’

      ‘Fine,’ he said. ‘You’ve got ten seconds.’

      Hard to tell who was more surprised—the strawberry blonde stranger or himself. Irritation coursed through his veins; he’d been blindsided by a beautiful face and a spectacular body. This woman was bad news, and no matter what lies she was about to spin from that gorgeous mouth the key point was that they would be lies—a calculated strategy with the aim of locating his wallet.

      The chances of her not being a billionaire-bagger were minuscule, yet there had been a vibrancy to her voice, a desperate glint in those hazel eyes that had clouded his usually impeccable judgement.

      Pushing the sleeve of his tux jacket up, he looked at his watch. ‘Five seconds left. Four...three...’

      ‘My mother is pregnant,’ she blurted out.

      Her words echoed around the bathroom and bounced off the mirrored tiles.

      What on earth did she expect him to do? Maybe she wasn’t a billionaire-bagger. Maybe she was crazy. ‘Offer her my congratulations,’ he said. ‘And now I think it’s time for you to go.’

      ‘I need to tell you who the father is.’

      Adam gusted out a sigh. ‘Lady, if you think you can scam me into believing it’s me that’s not going to fly.’

      For a start his unwanted intruder had to be in her mid-twenties, and he hadn’t dated an older woman in a very long time. But even if that weren’t the case Adam always made 100 per cent sure that pregnancy was an impossibility. One thing was certain in his life: he was not father material. After all, he was a Masterson through and through and he knew his own limitations. The less than stellar circumstances of his marriage had showcased his shortcomings all too brightly.

      ‘I’m not trying to scam anyone.’ Her hands twisted into the folds of her black dress. ‘The baby’s father is your father. Zebediah Masterson. And I need to find him.’

      Long practice at the poker table kept his face neutral even as her words travelled towards him in slow motion, each one slamming into him with the force of a sucker punch.

      Come on, Adam. Keep cool. This was nothing more than an über-clever scam, a fantastic concoction woven to get his attention.

      ‘Rubbish,’ he stated.

      ‘It’s not rubbish.’ One slim hand rose to jab the air in emphasis; her other hand still held the black dress up. ‘Or rocket science. It’s simple biology. My mum is pregnant and Zebediah is the father. So I need to find him.’

      Moisture prickled his temple with foreboding before common sense reasserted itself. No way would Zeb want a replay of fatherhood. Plus, surely even Zeb would have bothered to get in touch over something like this?

      ‘I don’t think so,’ he said.

      ‘And I don’t think you get it. I need to find him because I need to tell him about the baby. He doesn’t know.’

      For a treacherous second relief ran through his veins; if this preposterous tale was true at least Zeb hadn’t deliberately walked away from another unwanted baby. The way he’d walked out on Adam. Whoa. This wasn’t about the past; it was about the here and now and this no doubt mythical baby.

      ‘I see,’ he said, allowing scepticism to load each syllable. ‘How convenient for you.’

      Hazel eyes narrowed. ‘There is nothing convenient about this. Have you any idea how difficult it is to locate your father? I’ve spent weeks looking for him and finally I discovered you. So if you could just tell me how to contact him I’ll be on my way.’

      Was she serious? ‘Not happening.’

      Brows just a shade darker than her hair arched. ‘Why not?

      ‘Because I don’t want you harassing my father with some trumped-up paternity suit.’

      ‘Trumped-up paternity suit?’ Her free hand clenched into a fist and he braced himself. ‘Why are you assuming it’s trumped-up? For—’

      The buzz of his phone cut off whatever else she had been about to say. He pressed it his ear and Nate’s voice erupted.

      ‘What’s going on in there? Guests are arriving thick and fast and they are getting more and more curious.’

      ‘The intruder isn’t a threat.’ Or at least not to the guests; she was having a less than happy effect on him. ‘I’ll be there in a minute.’ Once he’d decided what to do about Little Miss Minx and her preposterous claim. In the meantime, with any luck, his guests’ curiosity might divert them from the billionaire-bagging hunt.

      Dropping the phone back into his pocket, he studied her. Hmm... He drummed his fingers on his thigh as he went through the options, a glimmer of a possibility sparking.

      ‘You can’t just go,’ she said. ‘I need to know where to find your dad.’

      ‘No.’ Adam considered his idea from all angles. ‘Turn around.’

      ‘What?’ Bewilderment layered her voice

      ‘Turn around. I’ll zip the dress up for you.’ He tipped his palms into the air. ‘You’re going to the ball.’

      It was the perfect solution. She remained where he could see her until he could disprove her story. And, as the icing on the cake, if he turned up to the ball with a beautiful woman on his arm he’d have a shield against all the other billionaire-baggers. Win-win. Adam made no effort to conceal the smirk that touched his lips.

      There was a moment’s silence as her jaw dropped. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

      ‘I’m not being ridiculous. You strike me as a loose cannon. So until I understand the situation you will stay glued to my side.’

      The words triggered an unwanted reaction: the thought of how she had felt in his arms earlier made his fingers itch to pull her right back to him. Madness, and yet she was the epitome of allure. The expressive hazel eyes, the delicate elven features and luscious mouth combined to make her ludicrously kissable.

      Throw in hair the colour of sunset and a body that showcased curves in all the right places and he was in trouble.

      His fingers tingled.

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