A Second Chance For The Millionaire. Nicola Marsh

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He’s even more furious because she managed to get a decent divorce settlement out of me, but he’ll want to see his grandchildren. They’re Falcons, which means that in his mind they’re his property. He doesn’t have much contact with them because they live in London and he can’t leave Monte Carlo very often.’

      ‘For tax reasons?’ she hazarded.

      ‘That’s right. He’s only allowed to be in England for ninety-one days. Any more and he’d be counted as an English resident and liable for English tax. He’s nearly used up his allowance for this year so he has to dash to London for the wedding, and get back very quickly.’

      How casually he spoke, she realised. How normal he seemed to consider this. It was a reminder that his life was centred around money, just in case she was in danger of forgetting.

      ‘And your brothers?’ she asked. ‘Will they be there?’

      ‘As many as can manage it. They all like Mary, rather more than they like me, actually. And the kids are fascinated by them coming from so many different countries. To them it’s like a circus. So we’re all going to bury our differences, but you won’t send me into the lion’s den alone, will you?’

      Harriet regarded him sardonically. ‘You really don’t feel you can face it without me?’

      ‘Definitely not. I’m shaking in my shoes at the prospect.’

      There it was in his eyes, the teasing humour that linked with her own mind in a contact sweeter than she had ever known.

      ‘In that case, I’ll just have to come along and protect you,’ she sighed. ‘It’s a dreadful responsibility, but I guess I’ll manage.’

      ‘I knew you wouldn’t fail me. The wedding’s in London in two weeks’ time. It’ll be a civil ceremony held at the Gloriana Hotel, and that’s where the reception will be too, so I’ll book us in there. You’ll be my guest, of course, but we’ll have separate rooms, so don’t worry. Every propriety will be observed.’

      Propriety. There was that word again. How often it cropped up in her mind with regard to this man, always implying the opposite.

      Don’t go, said a warning voice in her mind. To him this is a matter of friendship, but can you keep it as mere friendship? You don’t even know the answer, and oh, how you wish you did! Stay here, keep yourself safe.

      ‘I’d love to come,’ she said.

      OVER the next few days Harriet made her preparations, arranging extra hours for her assistant, notifying the lifeboat station that she would be away so that they could arrange a substitute to be on call. Her neighbour would look after Phantom, and she explained her coming absence to him with many caresses. He accepted these politely but seemed far more interested in the box of bones that had been delivered from Giant’s Beacon.

      On the last day before their departure Harriet and Darius went for a final swim, frolicking like children, splashing each other, laughing fit to bust.

      Harriet knew that at the back of her mind there was an unfamiliar aspect to her happiness. Part of her had been so sure that their friendship was over, but then he’d drawn her back in, seeking her help and her warmth again, and it was like a balm to her spirit. Suddenly all she wanted to do was laugh and dance.

      As they raced up the beach she stopped suddenly and looked around.

      ‘My towel’s vanished. Where—? Phantom.’

      In the distance they could see him tearing along the sand, her towel in his jaws, deaf to her cries.

      ‘He’ll be back in his own good time,’ Darius said.

      ‘But what do I do in the meantime?’

      ‘Let me dry you.’ In a moment he’d flung his towel around her, drawing it close in front, and began to rub her down. She shrieked with laughter and tried to wriggle away but he held her a prisoner while his hands moved over her.

      ‘You wretch,’ she cried, pummelling him. ‘Let me go.’

      But it was no use. He had ten times her strength, as she was beginning to understand. And there was something else she understood. She’d been mad to engage in this struggle that drew her near-naked body so close to his. The pleasure that was pervading her now was more than laughter with a dear friend. His flesh against hers, his face close to her own, the meeting of their eyes; she should have avoided these things like the plague. Except that he hadn’t given her the chance.

      Caution, she’d promised herself, but where was caution now? And did she really care?

      ‘Let me go,’ she repeated.

      But now his arms had enfolded her completely, allowing no movement.

      ‘Make me,’ he challenged.

      She made a half-hearted attempt to kick him but only ended up with her leg trapped between his.

      ‘Do you call that making me?’ he demanded.

      ‘Will you stop this?’

      ‘Nope.’

      It shocked her to realise how disappointed she would have been if his answer had been any different.

      ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ she cried.

      ‘I just thought it was time you learned who was boss around here.’

      ‘OK, you’re boss. Now let me go.’

      ‘Only if you pay the ransom.’

      ‘And what’s that?’

      ‘This,’ he said, dropping his head.

      It wasn’t a major kiss, no big deal, she told herself, trying not to respond to the gentle pressure of his lips. But it was precisely that light touch that was her undoing, making her want to lean forward, demanding that he kiss her more deeply, and more deeply still, threatening her with her own desires. And with that threat came fear.

      ‘No,’ she whispered. ‘No.’

      ‘I wonder if you really mean that.’

      She too wondered, but now she gathered all her strength together and said more firmly, ‘No!’

      He drew back a little, frowning.

      ‘You promised this wouldn’t happen,’ she reminded him.

      ‘I didn’t exactly—’

      ‘Every propriety observed, you said.’

      ‘Does that mean I can’t even kiss you?’

      ‘It means you can’t kiss me now, just when we’re about to embark on this idea of yours, pretending to be together when we aren’t really.’

      Slowly he released

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