Bella Bucannon - Unlocking The Millionaire's Heart

Jemma placed her bags on the ground, sat and curled her legs to the side. He joined her, leaning on his elbows, legs stretched out in front of him. For a moment or two there seemed no need for conversation. The serenity of the small area compensated for the traffic noise from the bridge.

Having resolved his mental conflict, and acutely aware of her beside him, he accepted that she’d now be a presence in his life. How prominent depended on how often they had to meet in person.

Few women he knew would wait so quietly, so patiently, for a man who’d told her he needed to consider his options, expected her to hike across the bridge, and then didn’t initiate conversation. Another difference from the women he dated.

Her profile was as appealing as her full face. Delicate smooth skin invited a caress, thick brown lashes enhanced the dark blue of her eyes, and her slender neck with its curtain of...

Where the heck had all that come from? And where the hell had it been when he’d tried to write such descriptions on the computer?

‘Jemma?’

His raspy tone came from the absence of moisture in his throat, exacerbated by the expectancy in her eyes as she faced him. He coughed, swallowed and retried.

‘Do you have full virus protection on your computer?’

Her chin lifted and her eyes narrowed in umbrage. ‘The best—and regularly updated.’

‘Would you be willing to send me some examples of those scenes Brian claims will improve my novel to a marketable level? I’m aware it means one-sided trust, but—’

Her laughter—natural, musical and matched by the sparkle in her eyes—cut him short.

‘My text is less than fifty thousand words, a fair proportion of which need cutting or rewriting. Most of your...’ She tilted her head and her eyebrows rose in query.

‘One hundred and ten thousand.’

‘Not only pass muster but have earned Brian’s praise. You have the right to be protective. How about I email three chapters?’

He puffed out what little air was left in his lungs. This could either be the start of a new career or the most turbulent phase of his life. Even seeing her face-to-face online would test his tenacity.

* * *

Jemma tried to hide the elation coursing through her. If he approved of her style of writing there was a chance he’d send her a partial to test her competence in blending with his. A limited partial, if she was any judge of men—a talent she could hardly claim, having had no inkling of her ex’s infidelity.

Nate Thornton, with his solemn expression and deep-set thoughtful eyes, was hard to read. He rarely smiled, but when he did he stirred feelings she’d sworn she’d never allow to rule her again. And his touch had her hankering for pleasures she’d renounced, tainted by betrayal. An electronic, detached co-author partnership would be the ideal answer.

‘You’ll need my email address.’ He pushed himself into a sitting position, and took out his mobile. She gave him her ever-present notebook and a pen, and had no trouble reading the neat script, wishing hers was as legible when she jotted something down so fast. He recorded hers in his phone—a much newer model than she owned. Something she might have to research and rectify in the coming weeks.

‘I’ve got a USB back-up with me, so I’ll send them tomorrow.’ She grinned at him; no use being precious about her failings. ‘Try to skim over the boring bits. Brian left me with no illusions on the quality of the storyline, but I hope to amend that failing by taking relevant courses.’

He returned the smile. ‘Maybe I should read them. They’re the reason he recommended you work with me instead of offering your novel to a publisher. I’ll do a print-out for my flight to Europe on Sunday morning—preferable to reading off a screen for me. I’ll get in touch on my return in a week or so.’

‘However long it takes.’

She couldn’t seem to break eye contact since he’d smiled at her, and wondered whether she ought to take the initiative and leave. Go home and start preparing dinner for her friends or watch some bad afternoon television. Even better, lose herself in the character charts and life histories of the hero and heroine of her next novel. One for which she intended to have Brian begging her to sign a solo contract.

Nate’s sudden rise to his feet broke her reverie and dulled her mood. Now the main issue had been settled he’d be anxious to go, and she understood—she truly did. Accepting his helping hand, she rose, taking her shoulder bag with her. He bent to pick up the other one, and maintained his hold.

‘How are you getting back?’

‘Walking over the bridge, of course. Who knows when I’ll have another chance?’

As he’d met her from this direction, she assumed he’d be staying in this area.

‘Suits me, Jemma. I’ll shout you coffee on the southern side.’

She had no right to feel elated, or for her heart to beat faster, but both happened as he spoke. And the air in her lungs seemed to have dissipated, making her sound breathy.

‘Your offer is accepted with gratitude, Nate.’

Since when had she spoken with such formality?

I don’t even allow my characters that uptown privilege. Maybe I will in a future book of mine, and their love interest will have a rougher background for conflict.

Her fingers itched to jot down notes on upbringing, and childhood environment. Instead she set the idea into her head as they returned to the walkway.

On her journey across it she’d become used to the noise of the traffic speeding past, separated from her by a steel and mesh safety fence. On the water side there were shoulder-and-head-high gaps in the corresponding mesh to allow for clear photography.

She stopped a short way along to take photos from this end, turning from Nate as she aimed her mobile upward, marvelling at the size and power of the metal beams and the majestic arches above their heads.

‘It’s so incredible—so powerful and strong.’

‘Walking up there is an entirely different experience. Keep it in mind for another visit.’

Swinging round, she bumped into his body as he stepped forward, pointing his finger to the top of the bridge. Her pulse surged as he caught her by the waist for support, and it didn’t ease off when he let go.

‘Not for me,’ she stated with emphasis.

His eyebrows rose and he grinned—a genuine magnetic smile, stirring butterflies in her stomach. Heat flooded her veins and her heart pounded. Such potency...she was glad he normally withheld it from her.

‘You’re toned and fit. What’s the problem? Fear of heights?’

He’d checked out her body? Fair was fair...she’d checked out his.

‘No, I just have no inclination to try anything I consider extreme.’

Or to become involved with the self-assured, super-confident men those activities attract.

‘Ah.’ He straightened his back and crossed his arms in mock umbrage. The quirk at the corner of his mouth and the gleam in his eyes belied his stance. A new personality was emerging—one that was engaging and amiable, much harder to keep at a distance. With luck it was only transient.

‘And that encompasses skydiving, mountain climbing and abseiling, huh?’

His words sounded deeper too, making the abrasion more appealing.

‘I’m not anti them. I can almost understand the compulsion to try them. But not the repeated temptation for disaster. Everyday life is challenging enough.’

‘Don’t you ever feel the need for an adrenaline rush?’

‘Mine come from seeing a koala with her new baby, or a rainbow appearing over the hills in a rainstorm.’

His soft chuckle evoked an alien feeling in her stomach, warm and exciting.

‘Oh, darling, you are so missing out on life.’