Bella Bucannon - Unlocking The Millionaire's Heart

He blinked, and she found herself facing the sombre features he’d shown at their initial introduction, as if he’d reverted to his distrust of her. How could he switch so fast? And why?

* * *

Nate’s jaw tightened and his stomach clenched as Jemma’s mirth abated and her eyes softened and glowed, mesmerising him. He’d allowed his guard to slip, had forgotten how easily a woman could deceive with her inviting glances and enticing lips.

He’d paid a life-changing price once, and wouldn’t ever risk the pain and humiliation again. This relationship must be kept casual and friendly—nothing more. Proximity had to be the reason for the desire Jemma aroused, and that would end when she returned home.

‘Water, a long black and another dessert spoon. Enjoy.’

The waitress broke the spell and was gone in the time it took him to refocus. Jemma bent over as she picked up a spoon, her long hair falling forward to hide her face. She didn’t brush it away.

They needed to set ground rules and fix boundaries for their own protection. Nate reached across the table and covered the hand dipping to scoop up ice-cream. Ignoring its trembling, he held on until she raised her head, her expression wary.

‘Trust me, Jemma, I don’t want you to have any regrets for the decisions either of us make.’

Her lips parted and her eyelids fell, concealing her emotions, and her chest rose as she breathed in, drawing his attention, threatening his resolve. Her fingers fisted under his, and he became aware of his thumb caressing her knuckle.

Then, with a sudden loosening of her fingers, a deep intake of air and a challenging message in her dark blue eyes, she replied in a clear, steady tone, ‘I won’t commit unless I understand exactly what’s required of me, and I’m sure I can deliver to your satisfaction.’

Sensation akin to a lightning bolt shot through him at her ambiguous statement. Innocent or deliberate, it created mental images that would keep him awake tonight. Or give him memorable dreams.

He released her hand, tore open two sugar sachets and stirred sugar into his coffee, his mind searching for a topic to discuss that would avoid personal revelation.

‘How do you rate a visit to Sydney against Melbourne?’

Her hand froze centimetres from her parted lips and her eyes grew bigger, highlighting their colour. Hell, she was alluring—even when caught unawares. And she was smart, cottoning on to his diversionary tactic in an instant.

‘That depends on the season and the reason for going there.’

A discussion followed, with inputs about Adelaide from Jemma, centred on the city’s central attractions and the entertainment value of international musical celebrities.

Nate ate the remainder of her sundae without mentioning that he wasn’t fond of such sweet offerings. Nor did he protest when she checked her watch and said she needed to leave. He insisted on escorting her to the station, told her he’d be in touch, and shook her hand for slightly longer and with slightly more pressure than convention dictated.

As he climbed the steps up to the bridge he remembered her gentle goad. Setting a steady-paced jog, he recalled their meetings, her reactions to the things he’d said and done and his own to her.

A seagull flew past, soaring upward, and he followed its flight to the top curved girders. If the chance arose in the future, maybe he’d persuade her to take that climb.

* * *

Jemma had the electric jug boiling and an open packet of biscuits waiting on the kitchen table for Cloe’s homecoming after work. She’d missed the closeness she shared with her best friend since her wedding and move to Sydney. Somewhere in her future there had to be a man who’d love her as faithfully as Mike loved Cloe.

The one secret she’d kept from her was the love stories that she’d expanded into full novels. Brian’s review had proved her judgement to be right. But if she was ever offered a contract Cloe would be the first to know.

‘So how did you spend your day?’ Cloe arched her back to relieve the kinks of the day and sipped her tea.

‘Window shopping, exploring The Rocks area and walking over the bridge. Plus two meetings that are confidential at the moment. Oh, and I did have lunch with someone who’ll be involved if the project goes ahead.’

She tried for nonchalance, not mentioning Nate, but heard the new inflection in her tone and felt her cheeks flush.

Cloe jerked upright, scanned her face with narrowed eyes, then clapped her hands. ‘You like him.’ A delighted grin split her face. ‘You’re blushing, Jemma! You like him a lot. Come on—give.’

‘Nothing to tell. He was at the morning meeting and we had lunch together. He lives here, and as far as I know may have a wife or girlfriend. I live in South Australia, and am not interested in a relationship.’

She told herself it was the truth, attributing her reaction to him as natural in the presence of a ruggedly attractive man. So why hadn’t it happened when her friends had set her up for dates in the three years since her break-up?

The back door opened, distracting Cloe. Jemma had often witnessed Mike’s loving kisses for his wife, so why the blip of her heartbeat and the sharp wrench in her abdomen this time?

* * *

That night, after an evening of reminiscing and lively conversation, she snuggled into her pillow, mulling over the past. Her initial reaction to finding out that the man she’d contemplated marriage with was cheating on her had been gut-wrenching anguish. She’d hidden away and cried, cursing them both to the walls of her bedroom, and had deleted every image of him—even shredding printed copies.

A few weeks later a koala with a baby clinging to her back had trundled across in front of her on a photo-taking walk in the hills. She’d stopped, her hand over her mouth in awe, silently watching their progress into the scrubland. Being that close to an active mother and her joey had been awesome. Inspiring.

She’d laughed out loud, realising that life went on and that it was only her pride and self-esteem that had suffered damage. Her heart might have cracked a little, but it wasn’t broken and it would heal with time.

That was the moment she’d decided to move from the city.

Later she’d become aware that her ability to trust had been the thing most affected.

Deep inside she still harboured a dream that there was someone out there who would love her as Mike loved Cloe, and would show it proudly and openly. She’d know him the moment he gazed into her eyes, held her in his arms and kissed her.

Nate Thornton intrigued her, and she’d felt a physical reaction to his smile and touch that was normal for any mature female. It could be a sign that she was ready to move on—though not to trust on sight.

She woke in the morning with a smile on her lips, ready for a day of shopping with Cloe and their friends, plus a lunchtime meet-up which would last all afternoon.

Sunday afternoon at the airport, Cloe hugged her and whispered in her ear. ‘Let me know if your meetings lead to anything. Of any kind. Your happiness is my greatest wish.’

* * *

Some time in the early hours of Friday morning Nate jerked upright in bed, throwing the sheet away from his sweat-soaked body. Heart pounding, he swung his feet to the floor and bent over, dragging great gulps of air into his lungs.

The details of the nightmare—his first for over a year—were already fading apart from occasional vague shadowy images, but the aftermath stayed. He strode to the wardrobe, dragged on a pair of shorts and went out onto the balcony, to look at the welcoming view of the city lights.

Why now? Long ago he’d accepted that images of the horrific sights he’d seen in war zones and wherever terrorists preyed on the innocent would have a lasting effect on him. Others reported the sickening acts—he’d chosen to write about the indomitable spirit of the victims and their families, keeping a tight control on his own feelings.