Sandra Marton - The Ruthless Billionaire’s Redemption

Don’t miss a second chance to enjoy this bestselling story from Sandra Marton!

Beauty who defied the beast!

An invitation to France is the fresh start Danielle needs. But throwing off the shackles of her old life and asserting her independence proves difficult in the presence of formidable tycoon Lee Bradford.

The injury that ended his racing career has left Lee dark and brooding. Danielle is a breath of fresh air, but her innocent spirit can only be tainted by his damaged soul. Should he fight their attraction—or will Danielle be the one to redeem this ruthless billionaire?

Originally published in 1990 as Garden of Eden.

The Ruthless Billionaire’s Redemption

Sandra Marton

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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CONTENTS

Cover

Back Cover Text Don’t miss a second chance to enjoy this bestselling story from Sandra Marton! Beauty who defied the beast! An invitation to France is the fresh start Danielle needs. But throwing off the shackles of her old life and asserting her independence proves difficult in the presence of formidable tycoon Lee Bradford. The injury that ended his racing career has left Lee dark and brooding. Danielle is a breath of fresh air, but her innocent spirit can only be tainted by his damaged soul. Should he fight their attraction—or will Danielle be the one to redeem this ruthless billionaire? Originally published in 1990 as Garden of Eden.

Title Page The Ruthless Billionaire’s Redemption Sandra Marton 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

Copyright

DANIELLE wondered if the man was watching her. She had the feeling he had been, ever since he’d entered the first-class lounge. She’d been alone and, when the door had swung open, it had been natural to glance up from her book and look at the new arrival. Having company had seemed a welcome prospect.

But she hadn’t expected anyone like him. Tall, broad-shouldered, he had the kind of rugged good looks that Danielle had only before seen on the movie screen. He looked nothing like the weary, middle-aged businessmen travelling on expense accounts her friend Ginny had sworn were the only people who used the airlines’ private lounges between flights.

‘Look,’ Ginny had said patiently, ‘you have a two-hour layover between planes. Why should you sit in a noisy terminal all that time while some guy who sells widgets relaxes in style? I have a friend who’s a flight attendant. He can get you into the VIP lounge.’

Danielle had protested, saying that her discount ticket on Air France hardly entitled her to such perks. She would feel out of place, she’d told Ginny. But her friend had been determined.

‘Jack says it’s no problem. And you’ll probably be all by yourself anyway. After a while, you’ll be dying for company.’

Ginny had been right. The lounge had turned out to be big, handsomely furnished—and as impersonal as a dental surgery. Danielle drank more coffee than was good for her, read a glossy fashion magazine until her eyes felt glazed, and kept glancing at her watch, as if she could somehow will the time to move faster. But she never did resolve the feeling of being out of place.

That was why she felt so uncomfortable now.

Her first thought, when she’d seen the man, had been that he belonged here and she didn’t. And then something had happened, something she still couldn’t understand.

His eyes—so blue they were almost violet—had met hers. Suddenly, the room had seemed to shimmer with electricity. Danielle had heard the racing beat of her own heart, and then the man had smiled, a private little tilt of his finely sculpted mouth that had sent colour flooding into her face.

Danielle had wrenched her head away, forcing herself to stare blindly out of the window, and finally she’d heard the soft sound of footfalls as he’d crossed the room and then the soft shift of leather as he’d settled into a chair.

Silence had fallen around her again and the moments had dragged by while she’d tried to decide what to do next. Her impulse had been to bolt out of the door to the public lounge. But that was silly. There was no reason to run—it was just that, every few minutes, she felt the nape of her neck tingle with the awareness of his eyes, felt her blood surge wildly beneath her skin. And then her pulse would begin to quicken until it drummed so loudly she was certain he could hear it.

All of which was, of course, ridiculous. It was just her imagination—there was no reason to think he was looking at her. He was probably reading a newspaper or dozing or—

‘Excuse me.’ She looked up, startled. The man was standing beside her, holding a newspaper in his hand and smiling. ‘I was wondering—do you have the correct time? My watch seems to have stopped.’

‘It’s five past seven,’ Danielle said, looking pointedly from him to the large clock on the wall.

His eyes followed hers and his smile broadened. ‘Now, how could I have missed seeing that?’ She said nothing, and he put his hand on the chair beside hers. ‘May I?’

She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. ‘If you like.’

Their eyes met as he sat down and she looked away quickly, bending her head over the book in her lap, staring at it, willing herself to read it. But the print blurred before her eyes. She heard the rustle of paper. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see that he was absorbed in the news.

Danielle stared at the book again, trying to get the jumbled letters to make sense. What on earth was the matter with her? The man seated next to her was good-looking, yes. But she’d seen good-looking men before. And he was flirting—she was certain of it. Well, so what? Men had flirted with her before. Sometimes, it was even fun to flirt back. Just a little, of course: a smile, perhaps even a brief conversation, and then you both went on your way.

But there was something different about this man. He was nothing like the men she knew back home. He was more worldly, she could see that at a glance. And then there was the way he looked, that taut body and hard, handsome face and—

‘Are you taking the non-stop to Nice?’

She looked up. He was smiling politely, and his words were polite, too. But there was something else in those blue eyes, something that made her breath catch. Danielle touched her tongue to her lips which felt, suddenly, as dry as the desert.

‘Yes,’ she said.

He nodded. ‘Me, too. Are you on vacation?’

‘Yes.’ Was this one stilted word all she could manage?

‘Have you been to the Riviera before?’ She shook her head and he smiled. ‘You’ll love it. It’s crowded this time of year, but there are some out-of-the-way spots the tourists haven’t found yet.’ His eyes swept over her face. ‘Where are you staying? Perhaps we could—’