Miranda Lee - Australian Bachelors - Masterful Magnates

Even now, with every passing day, Lara continually battled for independence.

Unless she was a skilled actress, which he seriously doubted, she hated relying on him for anything.

Lara gathered up fresh underwear, jeans, tee-shirt and disappeared into the en suite, to emerge soon after to discover Wolfe dressed and in the process of pouring coffee into two cups.

‘There’s no need—’ for you to come with me … Except one hard look in her direction ensured she didn’t finish the sentence.

‘We did this yesterday,’ Wolfe drawled. ‘Let’s not do it again.’ He held out a cup and saucer. ‘Coffee. Black, two sugars. Drink it, then we’ll hit the road.’

There was the temptation to tell him what to do with the coffee, and only the need for a caffeine fix prevented a verbal comeback.

The fact he knew irked her, and she opted for silence during the short drive to the fish market, where she made her selections, haggled a little, smiled when she beat down the price and executed a high-five gesture with a competitor.

‘Negotiations are in place on a property at Point Piper,’ Wolfe informed her as they shared breakfast.

One of Sydney’s luxury harbour-front suburbs, she acknowledged. Expensive—make that very expensive—real estate.

‘I’ve arranged for a firm of interior decorators to quote on refurbishment. Ideally, it’ll completed by the time we return from New York.’

Why should she be surprised? Money, enough of it, could achieve almost anything.

‘I’ll collect you at two-thirty this afternoon.’

Lara opened her mouth to argue, only to close it again as Wolfe continued, ‘And have you back at the restaurant by four. Your staff assured me they’ll manage.’

‘You arranged this without first checking with me?’

‘I merely circumvented your objection.’

So he had, with sufficient finesse that left her no quarter but to concede … or sound like a petulant child.

‘DO all women of your acquaintance fall at your feet, eager to fulfil your every wish?’

The corners of his mouth curved with humour. ‘What an interesting concept.’

‘You didn’t answer the question.’

He inclined his head. ‘More often than not.’

Lara offered him a sweet smile. ‘Count me among the not.’ ‘Indeed?’

He was amused, damn him!

‘It’ll be a refreshing change,’ she assured him.

Wolfe’s husky chuckle curled round her nerve-ends and tugged a little. ‘I foresee we’ll share an … interesting marriage.’

The mere thought sent her emotions into sensual overdrive, and she consciously tamped them down. If she allowed him to see the degree of her emotional vulnerability, she’d be lost.

And that would never do.

Lara refrained from offering any comment as she drained her coffee, then she stood to her feet and gathered up her shoulderbag.

‘I have to leave.’

Wolfe reached the door as she did, and she opened her mouth to protest, only to incur his dark look. ‘Give it up, Lara.’

‘Two-thirty,’ Wolfe reminded as he drew the Lexus to a halt outside the restaurant.

OK, so she’d go look at the house.

How difficult could it be?

It was the usual morning rush, with the need to check deliveries, make any last-minute menu changes, ensure outstanding bills were paid, and elevate Shontelle to the position of manager.

Lunch orders involved coordination, deft speed and, with luck, no hiccups.

Mercifully, there was only one picky customer who insisted she’d ordered a caesar salad with anchovies, not smoked salmon. Freshly assembled, it was sent back again only to meet a complaint she’d requested dressing on the side.

Sally merely executed an expressive eye-roll. ‘I’ll ask for a precise count of cos leaves, the number of croutons, anchovy fillets, with bacon bits or without, parmesan on the side or sprinkled … or perhaps the customer would like all the ingredients brought to the table separately so she can assemble the salad to her satisfaction?’ She offered a feline smile. ‘Offered with the utmost politeness, of course.’

Lara sent her an exasperated look. ‘Must you?’

‘Watch me.’

Within minutes Sally was back, a grin widening her generous mouth. ‘We have a winner.’

At two-twenty-five Lara removed her apron, tidied her hair and secured it with a large clip, applied lipgloss, collected her shoulderbag and moved through the swing-door separating the kitchen from the restaurant.

Wolfe stood at the front desk, engaged in conversation with Shontelle.

Attired in tailored black trousers and a white collarless shirt over which he wore a black butter-soft leather jacket, he stood with the ease of a man comfortable in his own skin, assured and able to deal with anything that came his way.

Steadily he was taking over her life, presenting options and choices which held validity, but in reality provided her with no choice at all.

Lara wove her way past tables and paused as she reached his side. Only to have the breath catch in her throat beneath the warmth of his smile as he lowered his head and brushed his lips to her cheek.

‘Ready?’

Oh my. The show of affection had to have been for Shontelle’s benefit … and anyone who happened to be watching.

She could do bright, friendly, even warm. However, anything resembling flirting was out.

‘Let’s go.’

He caught hold of her hand and threaded his fingers through her own. Something which elevated her nervous tension, and she waited until they reached the kerb before attempting to wrench her hand free.

‘Isn’t the hand-holding thing a bit over the top?’

Wolfe disarmed the locking mechanism and opened the passenger door. ‘It bothers you?’

Yes . The word became locked in her throat as a silent scream. ‘Of course not,’ she managed evenly as she slid into the seat.

In the confines of the car she was supremely conscious of him, the aura of power and masculine strength he exuded mingling with the unobtrusive drift of expensive cologne.

His hands on the wheel were sure, his control of the Lexus total, as he handled the traffic with ease through the city streets, soon connecting with the New South Head Road leading towards Point Piper.

It was a lovely spring day with a tinge of warmth in the sun as it bathed the harbour and encroaching suburbs.

Mansions, some gracious others modern, stood behind high walls with steel-gated frontages.

Most were worth a veritable fortune, and owned by the rich and famous who coveted their privacy.

There was a sense of curiosity as Wolfe eased the car to a halt behind a late-model Mercedes, the owner of which moved forward to provide an expansive greeting as soon as Wolfe emerged from the Lexus.

‘My fiancée, Lara Sommers,’ Wolfe introduced smoothly as he crossed to the agent’s side, and she felt the light pressure of Wolfe’s hand at the back of her waist as they entered the house.

An action which suddenly made her conscious of a need to regulate her breathing.

Which was crazy.

The house … concentrate on the house, she bade silently as they passed through the large entrance with its marble-tiled floors, the beautiful neutral colours enhanced by individual features and exquisite lighting.

Built on three levels, the interior provided a guest suite, master suite, plus five bedrooms, each with an en suite, a formal and informal lounge and dining room, media room, office and library, together with utilities. There was garaging for three vehicles and a self-contained flat for live-in staff.

It was the kitchen which held her interest, for she’d worked in several over the years, and design layout and appliance placement were essential for maximum ease of use.