Cathy Williams - The Billionaire Boss's Bride

‘Yes, I heard what you said! And it’s…very…well, considerate of you, but out of the question. Thank you all the same!’

‘But you won’t have time to prepare your meal…’

‘I can whip something else up. No need for you to worry about it.’ Panic licked through her and she tried to see his suggestion for what it was, an offbeat but instinctively gracious offer from someone who had kept her working later than intended. Curtis was not a man who was stingy with his gestures. He would think nothing of taking her out along with seven other people for a slap-up meal at some expensive restaurant somewhere.

She realised that her reaction was out of proportion because she didn’t want him to invade her private life at all, not in any way.

The lift had reached the ground floor and she scooted out, planning to escape into the dark cold outside, thereby putting an end to their conversation.

‘So I take it you won’t accept my offer…’ He reached out and swung her around, leaving his arm curled on her wrist. ‘I’m cut to the quick.’

‘No, you’re not!’ Tessa said sharply. His hand was burning through the layers of clothing. She could feel it like a hot brand stamping down into her flesh, making her want to squirm.

‘You’re right. I’m not. But that’s only because I expected you to refuse my offer.’

‘You did?’

He nodded gravely and the pressure of his hand lessened, although he didn’t remove it and didn’t appear to notice her surreptitious attempts to ease it away.

‘I did.’ He shot her a smug look. ‘Isn’t it nice the way I can tune in to you after only two weeks?’

Tessa ignored that. ‘Well, why did you bother to offer if you knew I was going to refuse?’

‘Because I still intend to help you out, whether you like it or not.’ Instead of heading towards the revolving door at the front, he swivelled her back round to the lift and pressed the down button. ‘I’m going to drive you to your house and, on the way, I’m going to stop off and get a take-away and, before you open your mouth to gently turn my magnanimous offer down, there’s no debate.’

She was ushered back into the lift, this time down to the basement, where a handful of people were given the privilege of secured parking. In central London that in itself was worth its weight in gold.

‘Slightly selfish reasons here,’ he continued, leaning back against the mirrored side of the lift.

‘What?’ Tessa’s voice was apprehensive. Trying to predict this man’s moves was like trying to predict the weather from a sealed box underground. Utterly impossible.

‘I need you to do me a small favour.’

‘Favour? What favour?’

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, as the lift disgorged them into the compact underground car park he led her towards his sleek, low-slung sports car, a shiny black Mercedes that was the last word in breathtaking extravagance and just the sort of car she would have imagined him driving. Not for him the big, safe cars with practical boot space and generous passenger-toting potential!

‘One of my babies,’ he said, grinning at her and sweeping a loving hand across the gleaming bonnet.

‘One of them? You mean you have a fleet of cars lurking away somewhere?’ Yes, she could imagine that too. A dozen racy little numbers tucked away somewhere, ready and waiting for when they might be put to use driving his racy female numbers to racy little nightclubs. She scowled in the darkness and wondered how such creative genius could be simultaneously shallow and superficial.

‘You snorted.’

‘I beg your pardon?’ Had she?

‘You snorted just then. A very disapproving snort. What’s wrong about having a fleet of sports cars? I thought you women liked that sort of thing.’

‘Some might.’ His amusement was very irritating. She tilted her chin up and stared frostily out of the window.

‘But not you.’ He slotted a card into the machine at the side and the exit barrier went up.

‘That’s right,’ Tessa said crisply. ‘I happen to think that men who feel the need to buy small, fast cars are just subscribing to the truth of toys for boys.’

‘Toys for boys?’ Curtis chuckled. ‘I can assure you that I’m no boy! Haven’t I already proved that by the kind of coffee I drink?’

‘Yes, of course you have. Silly me. You’re all man!’ She slanted an ironic, sideways glance at him and just for a fraction of a second their eyes met and she felt a rush of unsteadiness. The glint in his eyes was wickedly, darkly teasing and for one heart-stopping moment it spiked into the very core of her, sending every pulse in her body shooting off into overdrive. ‘You might want directions to my house,’ she said in a very steady voice. ‘I live out towards Swiss Cottage. If you—’

‘I know where Swiss Cottage is.’ He paused. ‘Now to the original point of my conversation.’

Curiosity overcame apprehension at the oddly serious note in his voice and Tessa shifted to look at him. ‘Yes. The favour you wanted to ask of me. What is it? If it’s to do with working overtime, then I’m sure it won’t be a problem, just so long as you let me know in advance what days you require of me.’

‘Oh, well, some overtime might be needed but it’s to do with my baby, actually.’

‘Your car?’ Wasn’t this baby thing going a little too far? Boys with toys was bad enough but boys obsessed with toys was beyond the pale!

‘No, of course not,’ Curtis said impatiently. ‘I’m talking about Anna!’

‘Anna?’

‘My mother did tell you about Anna, didn’t she?’

Tessa thought back. She was certain she would have remembered the name. ‘No,’ she said slowly and thinking hard. ‘Who is she?’

Curtis swore softly under his breath and pulled the car over to the side of the kerb, then he turned to face her. ‘Anna is my daughter.’

‘Your daughter?’

He swore again and shook his head, scowling. ‘I take it my mother forgot to mention that little detail. Or rather chose not to.’

‘But…I don’t get any of this. You have a daughter? Are you married?’ He didn’t act like a married man. He didn’t wear a wedding ring. And did married men have strings of sexy secretaries because they decorated their offices, with practical skills not of prime importance? Would his wife approve of that? Did she even know? Maybe, Tessa thought with a sickening jolt, they had one of those modern open marriages.

In the middle of her freewheeling thoughts, he interrupted with, ‘A daughter, no wife. And I’m surprised this wasn’t mentioned when my mother saw you.’ The cunning fox, he thought indulgently. Had his mother thought that bringing up the question of his daughter and the spot of coverage that might be occasionally needed would have put off the perfect candidate? One of the reasons he had succumbed to her insistence on choosing his next secretary had been the little technicality that Anna was going to be on half-term for two weeks and his mother would be out of the country on a gadabout cruise with her circle of friends. Someone would be needed to help out with coverage should it become necessary and, in his mother’s words, a flighty bit of fluff would not do.

‘Anna is going to be home for a fortnight from her boarding-school tomorrow. Next week she’s going to be coming into the office and I want you to take her under your wing. The following week should be fine. I intend to have the week off, but next week’s a bit trickier with this trip to the Far East to source potential computer bases.’

‘Boarding-school.’

‘Hence the fact that she has to come into the office. None of her friends live locally and my mother left the country a couple of days ago.’