‘The girl in that photograph is the woman you’re meant to be. I know it and you know it.’
He was wrong! She didn’t deserve to be that girl. She deserved nothing more than the chance to live her life in peace.
His breath fanned across her lips, addling her brain. She should step away, but she remained, quivering beneath his touch, hardly knowing what she wished for.
He pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. Her eyes fluttered closed as she turned towards him …
And then she found herself released.
‘You want me as much as I want you.’
Her heart thudded in her chest. She had to reach out and steady herself against a chair.
‘I don’t know why the thought of being happy scares you.’
An Unlikely Bride for the Billionaire
Michelle Douglas
www.millsandboon.co.uk
MICHELLE DOUGLAShas been writing for Mills & Boon since 2007, and believes she has the best job in the world. She lives in a leafy suburb of Newcastle, on Australia’s east coast, with her own romantic hero, a house full of dust and books and an eclectic collection of sixties and seventies vinyl. She loves to hear from readers and can be contacted via her website: www.michelle-douglas.com.
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To Amber and Anthony, and Jessica and Tim, who are raising the next generation of heroes and heroines with grace and style … and a splendid sense of fun!
Contents
COVER
INTRODUCTION ‘The girl in that photograph is the woman you’re meant to be. I know it and you know it.’ He was wrong! She didn’t deserve to be that girl. She deserved nothing more than the chance to live her life in peace. His breath fanned across her lips, addling her brain. She should step away, but she remained, quivering beneath his touch, hardly knowing what she wished for. He pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. Her eyes fluttered closed as she turned towards him … And then she found herself released. ‘You want me as much as I want you.’ Her heart thudded in her chest. She had to reach out and steady herself against a chair. ‘I don’t know why the thought of being happy scares you.’
TITLE PAGE An Unlikely Bride for the Billionaire Michelle Douglas www.millsandboon.co.uk
ABOUT THE AUTHOR MICHELLE DOUGLAS has been writing for Mills & Boon since 2007, and believes she has the best job in the world. She lives in a leafy suburb of Newcastle, on Australia’s east coast, with her own romantic hero, a house full of dust and books and an eclectic collection of sixties and seventies vinyl. She loves to hear from readers and can be contacted via her website: www.michelle-douglas.com .
DEDICATION To Amber and Anthony, and Jessica and Tim, who are raising the next generation of heroes and heroines with grace and style … and a splendid sense of fun!
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
EPILOGUE
EXTRACT
COPYRIGHT
CHAPTER ONE
‘BUT—’ MIA STARED, aghast, at Gordon Coulter ‘—that’s not my job!’ She was a trainee field officer, not a trainee event manager.
Her stomach performed a slow, sickening somersault at the spiteful smile that touched his lips. Gordon was the council administrator in charge of Newcastle’s parks and wildlife—her boss’s boss and a petty bureaucrat to boot. Plum Pines Reserve fell under his control. And he’d made no secret of the fact that he’d love to get rid of her—that he was simply waiting for her to mess up so he could do exactly that.
She did her best to moderate her voice. ‘I’m in charge of the weed extermination project that’s to start on the eastern boundary. Veronica—’ the reserve’s ranger ‘—insists it’s vital we get that underway as soon as possible. We’re supposed to be starting today.’
‘Which is why I’ve handed that project over to Simon.’
Every muscle stiffened in protest, but Mia bit back the objections pressing against the back of her throat. She’d worked ridiculously hard on fine-tuning that project, had gathered together an enthusiastic band of volunteers who didn’t care one jot about her background. More exciting still, she and Veronica had planned to take a full botanical inventory of the area—a comprehensive project that had filled Mia with enthusiasm. And now she was to have no part in it.
‘This isn’t up for debate, Mia.’
Gordon pursed his lips, lifting himself up to his full paunchy height of five feet ten inches. If it was supposed to make him look impressive, it failed. It only drew her attention to the damp half-moons at the armpits of his business shirt.
‘You have to understand that teamwork is vital in an area as poorly funded as ours. If you’re refusing to assist the administrative team in their hour of need then perhaps this isn’t the right organisation for you.’
She wanted to know where Nora was. She wanted to know why Simon hadn’t been given this job instead of her.
‘The Fairweathers will be here at any moment, so if you are refusing to assist...’
‘Of course I’m not refusing.’ She tried to keep her voice level. She couldn’t afford to lose this job. ‘I’m surprised you’d trust me with such an important assignment, that’s all.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘If you screw this up, Maydew, you’ll be out on your ear.’
She didn’t doubt that for a moment.
‘Naturally Nora will take over once she returns.’ His lips tightened. ‘She assures me you’re the only one who can possibly deputise in her stead.’
She bit back a sigh. Nora wanted her on the events team, claiming she was wasted as a field officer. Mia had plans, though, and they didn’t involve being part of the events team.
Where was Nora?
She didn’t ask. She refused to give Gordon the satisfaction of telling her it was none of her business. She’d ring Nora later and make sure she was okay.
The receptionist knocked on the office door. It was Nora’s office, but Gordon co-opted it whenever he decided to work from Plum Pines rather than his office at Council Chambers.
‘Mr Coulter? Mr Fairweather is here.’
‘Send him in.’
Mia moved to the side of the desk—she hadn’t been invited to sit—fighting the urge to move to the back of the room, where she’d be able to remain as unobtrusive as possible.
‘Mr Fairweather, it’s delightful to meet you!’ Gordon moved forward, arm outstretched, greasy smile in place.
Mia repressed a shudder.
And then she glanced at Dylan Fairweather—and had to blink, momentarily dazzled by so much golden...goldenness. Dear Lord, the papers did Dylan Fairweather no justice whatsoever. Not that Mia spent much time reading the society pages, but even she—hermit that she was—knew that Dylan Fairweather was considered one of Australia’s bright young things. Earlier in the year he’d been named one of Australia’s Top Twenty Eligible Bachelors.
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