Ally Blake - How To Marry A Billionaire

When Chris didn’t budge, Adam grabbed him by the arm and made to tug him out the door. ‘There’s literally millions of them out there in the real world. I can find you one on any street corner right now!’

Chris shrugged out of Adam’s grasp, his fists clenched at his side. ‘I don’t want some escort girl I can pick up on any old street corner.’

Seeing how upset Chris was becoming, Adam took a moment to rein in his concern, which was fast running out of control. ‘That’s not what I meant and you know it.’

‘I want a woman with whom to spend my quiet moments,’ Chris explained. ‘I want a wife. I certainly don’t want one of your cast-offs. The women you date are the complete antithesis of what any sane man would want in a wife. Any man apart from your father, of course. While we’re talking about relationships, let’s talk about yours.’

Adam decided to ignore that final jab and focussed on the bits he wanted to focus on. ‘This is about you, mate, not me, and my point is you could have anyone you want. Where has this all come from all of a sudden? Why now?’

Chris shrugged and softened a very little, his palms flattening out until they hung straight by his side. ‘It’s time. I work too much to go the regular route of dating by numbers. The years have slipped away without my even knowing it. I’m turning thirty-five this year.’

‘I’m thirty-five already.’

That earned Adam two raised eyebrows.

‘Chris, by the way you’re acting anyone would think that was middle-aged. We’re still young men, with our whole lives in front of us.’

‘Exactly my point. While I am still a young man, I want someone with whom to share as much of that remaining time as possible.’

Adam felt himself running out of arguments and it bothered him to see Chris so certain. Sunny, cheery Chris, always glued to his laptop, creating brilliant business solutions for their hip, rising-star telecommunications company, was suddenly searching beyond the limits of his clever mind for satisfaction. The world outside had finally beckoned.

And despite his protestations about the effects Chris’s plans would have on the image of the company, that wasn’t really what had Adam spooked. He was perfectly aware that the big bad world could swallow a good-natured guy like Chris whole.

‘OK, then,’ Adam said, rallying his forces, focussing every lick of attention on his foolish friend, ‘please explain to me why you think you need to go on a TV dating show to find a wife?’

‘Because it’s the only way I can meet women who have no idea who I am.’

Adam shook his head. ‘Run that by me again.’

‘The producers have gone to incredible trouble to pick out thirty women from all over Australia. Thirty attractive, accomplished, interesting women who have been given extensive compatibility tests. Thirty women who have no clue who owns Revolution Wireless, and thus have no idea how much I am worth. They will get to know me just for me. Chris, everyday Aussie bloke. Not Chris Geyer, richest single Australian man under forty.’

And that Adam understood. As two of the young owners of the Revolution Wireless telecommunications giant, one of Australia’s fastest expanding business empires, he and Chris were considered prime pickings by the women in their regular social circles who knew exactly what they were worth.

Chris’s earlier comments slammed into his thoughts. So what if he dated women dripping in diamonds and lofty aspirations, just like the ones who had taken his father to the cleaners over and over again? That way at least he had no chance of ever mistaking his feelings for any of them and therefore would never succumb to the same fate. And he had no intention of allowing his kind-hearted, naive friend to fall into that trap either. Especially with some buck-toothed ignoramus chosen by a TV exec with nothing on his mind bar ratings.

‘I’m on my way to the television station now. Are you coming with me? I could do with some moral support, if that’s on offer,’ Chris said as he swung his jacket over his shoulder and headed for the door.

‘Oh, I’m coming,’ Adam said. ‘But only so that on the drive over there I can do everything in my power to talk you out of it.’

‘OK, but you’re not coming into the meeting with me,’ Chris said. ‘You’re too bloody good-looking. They’ll forget about me in a heartbeat and do everything they can to snap you up instead.’

‘Don’t panic, mate,’ Adam drawled. ‘I wouldn’t be in your shoes for the world.’

Cara checked her lip gloss in her compact mirror for the third time on the cab drive over.

She had dressed conservatively, as she figured that was how they would want her to dress their guy. She wore a vintage black jersey crossover dress and simple silver antique jewellery. Her short curly bob was pulled away from her face and anchored with a large red hibiscus, and her make-up was subtle, all so that nothing could take away from her new red satin Kate Madden Designs shoes, which were expensive enough to make that month’s mortgage payments a squeeze.

The feeling of a brick in her chest grew heavier at the recollection of the price she had paid for them. But if she got the job it wouldn’t matter—she would be free and clear. And that was the goal she had to keep dangling in front of herself like a carrot in front of a mule.

She closed the compact, smacked her lips together once more and found the taxi driver watching her in the rear-view mirror. She sent him a self-conscious smile.

‘Big date?’ he asked.

Cara shook her head. ‘Job interview.’

‘At the TV station? What sort of job? Are you a news-reader or something?’

‘No, nothing like that. I’m hoping to land a job on one of those new dating shows. I don’t even know the title or anything. It’s all pretty hush-hush, actually.’

She jolted forward lightly in her seat as he unexpectedly pumped the brakes.

‘Really?’ the driver said. ‘Are you going to be one of those girls in bikinis who sit in a hot tub all day?’

‘Gosh, no!’ she declared. ‘I’m a behind-the-scenes type. I’m going for the job of styling the male lead in the show.’

‘Oh,’ the driver said before focussing more fully on the road ahead. Obviously hot tubs and bikinis were much more his scene.

He soon pulled up outside the old concrete building that housed the television studios. Cara hopped out and handed the cash through the driver’s side window.

‘Good luck,’ the driver said. ‘And I’ll look out for you on the small screen.’

He gave her the once-over and Cara knew he didn’t believe her for a second and was happily measuring her up for a bikini. Knowing she looked more like a ballet dancer than a Baywatch babe didn’t stop her from blushing in humiliation as he gave a little shrug as if to say he’d seen better.

Cara tugged at her born-again dress, patted down her curls, took a deep breath, and headed inside.

Adam sat upstairs in the top-floor foyer of the television station, cracking his knuckles.

He could have waited in the car. He could have browsed in the shop windows near the television station. He could have taken advantage of the heretofore unheard-of spare time and chosen to stop and smell the flowers in the park nearby. But he hadn’t. He wanted to be where Chris was. And since Chris had been taken into a closed-door meeting, the foyer was as close as he was going to get.

After a good hour spent counting tiles on the ceiling of the open-plan waiting room Adam was itching to leave. And to take Chris with him. If there was even the slightest hint that Chris might change his mind, Adam wanted to be there to snap him up and take him back to the real world of stock prices and innovative technologies. A quantifiable world that never pretended to be anything other than what it was.