Nicola Marsh - Hired by Mr. Right

“Maybe I prefer to indulge in fanciful dreams at night?”

Spurred on by the urge to match wits with him, Samantha took a sip of her coffee and feigned innocence. “What you do at night is no concern of mine.”

“Would you like it to be?”

Resisting the urge to grin, she said, “Depends. I thought I’d worked enough nights lately. There’s only so much typing, filing and bookkeeping a girl can take.”

“I wasn’t talking about work.”

Nicola Marsh says, “As a girl, I dreamed of being a journalist and traveling the world in search of the next big story. Luckily, I have had the opportunity to travel the world, but my dream to write has never been far from my mind. When I met my own tall, dark and handsome hero, and learned that romance is everything it’s cracked up to be, I finally took the plunge and put pen to paper.

“I live in the south-eastern suburbs of Melbourne with my husband, and a baby on the way. When I’m not writing, I work as a physiotherapist for a vocational rehabilitation company, helping people with disabilities return to the workforce. I also love sharing fine food and wine with friends and family, going to the movies and my favorite—curling up in front of the fire with a good book.”

HARLEQUIN ROMANCE®

3810—THE TYCOON’S DATING DEAL

3818—THE WEDDING CONTRACT

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

EPILOGUE

SAMANTHA PIPER needed this job, more than she’d ever needed anything in her entire twenty-five years. OK, so maybe she’d tampered with the truth, changed her surname and taken a crash course in subservience, but it would be worth the price. In fact, she would have done a lot worse to gain employment as Dylan Harmon’s butler.

‘So, what do you think?’ Sam pirouetted in front of her best friend, Ebony.

‘Honestly? I think you’re nuts.’

‘Why? Doesn’t the uniform fit? Does it make my backside look too big?’

Ebony rolled her eyes and snorted. ‘Oh yeah, like anything could make you look huge! Puh-lease!’

Sam sat down on the part of anatomy in question. ‘You’re probably right. I am nuts but this is what I want to do. The least you can do is support me.’

Ebony wrapped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed. ‘Hey, who’s been your biggest fan all these years? And who gave you a crash course in “bowing and scraping, butler-style”? Not to mention a glowing reference.’

Sam smiled. ‘Point taken. Let’s just hope that I remember your tips when it comes to the crunch.’

‘Oh, when’s that? When the dashing Dylan asks you to hold his warmed towel as he steps from a hot shower, water sluicing down his great bod, from his broad shoulders to his—’

‘Stop!’ Sam clamped a hand over her friend’s mouth. ‘If I wasn’t nervous before, now I’m petrified.’

‘Since when has any guy intimidated you? Supergirl Sam, able to leap tall men and their hang-ups in a single bound.’

‘If you’re referring to my archaic father and his cronies, yeah, I can usually handle them. I hope Dylan Harmon proves to be just as easy.’

Ebony chuckled. ‘I’m sure your five hunky brothers would love to hear you describe them as cronies.’

Sam wrinkled her nose. ‘To you, they’re hunks. To me, they’re major pains in the rear end.’

‘Whatever.’ Ebony glanced at her watch. ‘Isn’t it time you left? Wouldn’t want to miss your flight and be late on your first day.’

Sam noted the time on her bedside clock and grimaced. ‘Wish me luck. I’m going to need it.’

Ebony hugged her. ‘You’ll be fine. Just remember everything I taught you and it’ll be a cinch.’

‘That’s what I’m afraid of.’

Since when had her life been easy? Sam had bucked the system for as long as she could remember, ignoring the old-fashioned views of her parents who were still caught up in the ancient fairy-tale of their royal blood. So she was descended from Russian royalty? Big deal. The more her family treated her like a princess, the more she wanted to rebel. When her five older male siblings joined her parents in reinforcing her ‘duties’ as the only princess in the family she’d been pushed over the edge. And the result? A three-month contract in Melbourne as Dylan Harmon’s butler, as far as she could get from Queensland, family constraints and their expectations.

What better way to shun family ties and prove her independence than accept a position as some rich boy’s servant? Not that she’d told them that. Instead, she’d spun them some lame story about meeting a prospective husband through her friend Ebony and they’d bought it. In fact, her parents had practically pushed her out the door when she’d mentioned the possibility of matrimony to such an influential man as Dylan Harmon. After all, what better way to ensure royal heirs than matching their princess daughter with the prince of Australia’s landowners?

‘Good luck, honey, you’ll be fine. And remember, ring me if you need anything.’ Ebony blew her a kiss as she walked out the door, leaving Sam alone with her thoughts.

Picking up her bag and scanning the room one last time, Sam hoped to God her best friend was right. Everything would be fine, as long as she kept her mind on the job and Dylan Harmon didn’t treat her like the rest of the females in his sphere. She’d had enough of egotistical, overbearing men to last her a lifetime and she had it on good authority that he was one of the best. Defying her brothers was one thing, gaining the upper hand with one of Australia’s most eligible bachelors would be another entirely. Not that his good looks would intimidate her. She loved a challenge in any shape or form and handling the likes of Dylan Harmon shouldn’t be a problem.

Now all she had to do was believe it.

Dylan Harmon stepped from the shower, wrapped a towel around his waist and reached for a razor. While shaving, he heard the bedroom door slam and assumed it was the new butler his mother had hired. Not that he’d needed one but Liz Harmon seemed hell-bent on making his life easier these days.

‘Is that you, Sam? I’ll be out in a minute.’

Splashing aftershave on his face, he wondered what sort of man his mother had deemed suitable. Sam Piper must be a jack-of-all-trades, as his mum believed he needed someone to lend him a hand in all facets of the business. If he hadn’t been so pig-headed, she’d have hired someone a long time ago. They’d argued about his workload for far too long and he’d finally given in, knowing that his mother’s interference sprang from concern rather than any great desire to rule his life.

Strolling into the bedroom, he came face to face with a woman. Not just any woman, but a delicate waif wearing a navy blue uniform with the Harmon coat of arms over her left breast. Once his gaze strayed to her chest he had a tough time wrenching it back, for the evidence of her femininity, combined with the uniform, could only mean one thing.