Stranded For One Scandalous Week (Mills & Boon Modern) (Rebels, Brothers, Billionaires Book 1)

by Natalie Anderson

  USA TODAY bestselling author NATALIE ANDERSON writes emotional contemporary romance full of sparkling banter, sizzling heat and uplifting endings—perfect for readers who love to escape with empowered heroines and arrogant alphas who are too sexy for their own good. When not writing, you’ll find her wrangling her four children, three cats, two goldfish and one dog...and snuggled in a heap on the sofa with her husband at the end of the day. Follow her at natalie-anderson.com.

  Also by Natalie Anderson

  The King’s Captive Virgin

  Awakening His Innocent Cinderella

  Pregnant by the Commanding Greek

  The Innocent’s Emergency Wedding

  The Greek’s One-Night Heir

  Secrets Made in Paradise

  Once Upon a Temptation collection

  Shy Queen in the Royal Spotlight

  The Christmas Princess Swap collection

  The Queen’s Impossible Boss

  Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

  Stranded for One Scandalous Week

  Natalie Anderson

  www.millsandboon.co.uk

  ISBN: 978-0-008-91405-9

  STRANDED FOR ONE SCANDALOUS WEEK

  © 2021 Natalie Anderson

  Published in Great Britain 2021

  by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

  All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

  By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

  ® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

  www.millsandboon.co.uk

  Note to Readers

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  For Heather—

  thank you always for your support and cheer.

  I hope you enjoy this one too!

  Contents

  Cover

  About the Author

  Booklist

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Note to Readers

  Dedication

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Extract

  About the Publisher

  CHAPTER ONE

  MERLE JORDAN WAS surrounded by bubbles. White frothy ones filled the deep, wide bath, petite ones fizzed from the oversized champagne bottle she’d just opened, while the fragile glass bubbles of a sleek modern light fixture gleamed above her head. The glimmering orbs delighted her starved senses, bringing absolute bliss.

  She opened the stunning glass doors which led to the balcony that stretched the length of the building and ended with a curling staircase that led down to the pool below. A massive moon hung in the sky like the biggest bubble of all, casting a rippling sweep of light across the private bay. Merle lit the candle beside the bath and switched off the pretty light overhead, indulging in the soft, muted glow of the large moon and small flame.

  With a disbelieving giggle she wriggled out of her underwear. She’d barely sampled the champagne but this decadence wasn’t something she’d experienced and it was heady. Merle didn’t excel at self-care at the best of times and this was beyond beginner level. She’d graduated to expert in one go. Never before had she been in a bath so big, never had she seen a view so stunning, never had she stood naked and sipped champagne from a slender crystal glass. Never had she stolen time for herself.

  The summer air was still warm but she couldn’t resist the bubbles of the bath a moment longer. The glistening suds slipped over her like soft strokes of indulgence. Sliding deeper, Merle sipped her drink and breathed in the magnificent surroundings. She couldn’t believe she was living in this ‘holiday home’. She could bathe like this every night for the next six weeks if she wished.

  It wasn’t really a holiday home, it was a mega-mansion on Waiheke—an island less than an hour from Auckland, the largest city in New Zealand. Known as a playground for the wealthy, this property was a perfect example of the luxury homes hidden here. Incredibly private, it overlooked a beach with boat-only access and was furnished with an overflowing wine cellar, stunning swimming pool and spa. There was also a home gym, a cinema room, and even a single-lane bowling alley. The entire property was beautifully decorated with simple yet luxurious style. Richly coloured timber floors provided warmth and white paintwork offered crisp freshness, while soft-cushioned sofas and artfully placed occasional chairs invited relaxation. The gorgeous glazing of the house meant the entire building could be opened up to invite the outside in, and baskets with verdant plants accentuated that coastal, nature-loving style.

  The place was ready for a magazine shoot at a moment’s notice, Merle mused. Unusually for her, she liked the dearth of personal items in the decor; it made her feel it was more of a holiday venue and less as if she was encroaching on someone’s private space. Besides, all those personal secrets were waiting to be discovered in the boxes currently filling the triple-car garage. She’d been contracted to sort and list their contents and prepare them either for storage or destruction.

  She couldn’t believe that such a property had sat unoccupied for over a year. It seemed wrong when so many people didn’t have a home—including her. But she could hardly resent the obscenely wealthy owner’s abandonment, given that the live-in requirement of the job gave her a roof over her head for a while. And, as it was Friday night, she�
��d decided it was okay to finally relax. Everyone deserved a treat after a hard week’s work, right?

  Sighing with pure, luxurious pleasure, she knelt up to replenish her champagne from the bottle she’d left on the ledge.

  ‘Oh, hey, darling.’

  The low, lazy murmur shocked her.

  ‘Why are you naked in my bath?’ he asked.

  Half kneeling out of the bubbles, her hand stretched towards that champagne bottle, Merle froze, gaping at the man leaning against the doorjamb. For a second she only saw his eyes. They gleamed in the candlelight with an amber, almost animal warmth that didn’t just dazzle, but actually stunned a woman into stillness.

  Ashton Castle.

  Merle breathed out, relieved because she’d instantly recognised him. He was in a photo downstairs, the one personal item on display in the place. He’d inherited this house when his father, Hugh, had died just over a year ago, but had ignored it since. Ash had been too busy to be bothered, right? He had his hands too full with every socialite or model or influencer who crossed his path. And they all said yes because not only was notorious playboy Ash Castle eye-wateringly rich, he was also appallingly good-looking.

  Confronted by the reality, not a decades-old photo, Merle was stupefied. Tall, dazzling, devastating. She stared slack-jawed and wide-eyed at his long, muscular lines and stunningly sculpted face. She knew he also had that other irresistible-to-many facet to his nature—he was reckless. That was catnip to lots of women, wasn’t it? They wanted to dance with danger, attempt to tame the untameable, bring the rich, ravishing, reckless playboy to heel...

  But not Merle. She couldn’t think of a worse combination.

  She was sure his money, privilege and good looks meant it was too easy for him to get everything and everyone he wanted. That led to lazy arrogance and entitlement that meant the usual boundaries were ignored. She knew those sorts of men well. She’d been burned by one in her youth and she’d successfully avoided all of them since. Until now, when she was confronted with the worst of them all.

  ‘Sweetheart?’ Ash’s gaze narrowed slightly.

  Belatedly Merle realised she was up on her knees and, while there were masses of bubbles in the enormous bath, there weren’t enough to cover her completely. Her breasts were exposed and quite possibly her...

  She splashed down into the water so quickly she almost slipped right under. Desperately she threw her arms out to clutch the sides while drawing her knees up defensively at the same time. Another deep breath later, she wiped away the blob of frothy bubbles she could feel sliding down the side of her face.

  Of all the people to have arrived unexpectedly. Of all the times. Of all the shocks.

  And she couldn’t stop staring. His dark grey tee hugged his broad shoulders and clung to the hard planes of his chest, while his black jeans emphasised the length and strength of his legs. They were faded in the thigh area, the paler patches drawing her eye to the core of his masculinity. She snapped her gaze from his slim hips back up past his broad shoulders, but his face only added to that impression of absolute masculinity. The shadow on his jaw highlighted its sharp, angular line. Beneath his straight nose, his sensually full lips curved into a weary but appreciative smile. And then there were those mesmerising eyes—a warm brown with an almost leonine hint in the amber. Everything about him screamed virile male. And the truly horrific thing was that her body—her weak, treacherous body—seemed to want nothing more than to melt in a purely sexual reaction. It was a primal, utterly basic response that was so new, so surprising, she couldn’t pull her scattered thoughts together enough to scream at him to get out of there.

  ‘Why are you here?’ he asked negligently, still leaning against the doorjamb, apparently unfazed by her nudity and her panicked slide back into the water.

  Of course he wasn’t bothered. He was well used to women baring all around him.

  Merle burned, mortified. That should be her question. But she wasn’t great at speaking up, even when necessary. The truth was Leo Castle—Ash’s half-brother and the man who’d confirmed her contract here—had said she’d have the place to herself, that she could take six weeks or more on the project if necessary. The prospect of having a home for that long had been incredible. She desperately needed to recover her affairs. She had no regrets about going into debt for her grandfather’s health, but now that he was gone she had to claw her way out of the deep financial hole she’d been left in.

  ‘Did someone send you, Miss...?’

  Merle stiffened, perceiving slight insolence in his tone and finally found her voice. ‘Leo Castle—’

  ‘Leo hired you?’ Ashton Castle’s eyebrows rose, as if he was surprised. ‘How did he know I was coming?’ He looked perplexed as he muttered, apparently to himself, ‘But he knows I don’t do prostitutes.’

  Merle sat stupefied all over again, suddenly unable to feel whether the water was hot or cold because everything had gone numb. Had he just said prostitutes?

  Her heart pounded. Did he think she’d been hired to entertain him? That she was waiting naked in this bath with this champagne, ready to...to please him? A humiliation bomb exploded—bursting every one of her happy bubbles that’d been fizzing only five minutes before. And then a cloud of something else rose inside—something sinful and hot and that she couldn’t bear to define.

  ‘I think there’s been a mistake,’ she choked, so awash with embarrassment she was unable to continue.

  ‘Yeah.’ He strolled nearer and picked up the bottle of champagne from the edge of the bath, studying her even more closely, more directly—an open, unashamedly sexual appraisal. ‘But worse ones have been made.’

  With a twist of his full lips he cocked his head and cast that searing glance over the champagne label. ‘This was not a mistake, however. This was a nice choice.’ He glanced back at her, laughter glinting in his eyes. ‘At nine hundred dollars a bottle, you’re not afraid to set your value high.’

  What? Merle nearly choked again.

  ‘It cost how much?’ Her voice faded in a welter of shyness.

  Ash smiled and Merle just about died. The transformation from serious sex god, to smiling sex god made every muscle inside her squeeze. She could only stare—yet again rendered stupid. He met her gaze square on. But as her brain slowly came back online she registered a tired edge in his eyes that meant that his smile didn’t quite ring true. Drawing in a deep breath, she dragged her gaze back to the bottle and regretted ever thinking it was okay to accept the offer to have anything she wanted from the cellar.

  ‘I had no idea. I’m sorry,’ she mumbled, even more mortified. Nine hundred dollars? It was incredible to her that a bottle of anything could possibly cost that much. ‘Mr Castle said I could—’

  ‘Look, sweetheart, you fill your bath with it for all I care,’ Ash interrupted her embarrassed explanation with an almost dismissive boredom. ‘Bathe in every last drop if you want.’

  But then his gaze skimmed across her shoulders and something else gleamed again.

  She had the scandalous sensation that he was envisaging licking the droplets from her skin. And she wanted him to. Merle—who’d never wanted any man near her—suddenly wanted the biggest playboy of all to do what he wanted with his tongue and her skin, and how was it possible that she was slithering beneath some wordless spell?

  Instinctively sinking lower into the water, Merle felt that awful softening deep inside. It was shockingly inappropriate, and she was appalled by herself as much as she was by him. Merle didn’t feel hot and bothered by anyone. Yet she was unable to tear her gaze away from Ash Castle. It was as if she’d met a mythological creature—something rare and impossible. People simply didn’t look like this in real life. Not with glinting strength and sinfully arching dark eyebrows and casually tousled, slightly too long hair that fell just so. Not with sharply defined jawlines, even when masked by the stubble of a long day, not
with full, sensual mouths that curved upwards in invitation even when in repose.

  But now his expression clouded as he gazed back at her. As she watched—too flummoxed to be able to do anything else—a heated heaviness filled the atmosphere between them. Neither of them moved. Merle didn’t even breathe as his expression intensified. If she weren’t already going crazy, she’d think he was as captivated by her as she was him.

  ‘Do you like the taste?’ he muttered. ‘Because I like the look. Very much.’

  She simply couldn’t reply.

  ‘And I must be tired,’ he muttered as he lifted the champagne and took a long swig straight from the overpriced bottle, his hot gaze not leaving her face. ‘I’m so tempted—’

  ‘I’ve been hired by Mr Castle to sort out your father’s collections,’ Merle blurted quickly, knowing her cheeks were blazing with a dreadful blush.

  Ash stilled for a second, then slowly set the bottle back down on the side of the bath. ‘Pardon?’

  She didn’t believe the laziness in his tone, not when she saw the lethal alertness that had sprung into his eyes.

  ‘Mr Leo Castle hired me to sort out your father’s things,’ Merle mumbled miserably, barely able to inject volume into her voice and utterly unable to hold his gaze. ‘I’m an archivist. I’ve been staying here since Wednesday. I’m working on the papers in the boxes first.’

  ‘An archivist?’

  She hesitated, taking in a breath to summon the equilibrium to explain further. She hadn’t spoken this much in days. ‘Aside from the rare books, there are several dozen boxes stacked in the garage. I’m also cataloguing the art and the wine collections, though expert valuers will deal with those once I’ve done the detailed lists. I’m only doing the storage and destruction plan for the papers.’ She paused for breath and glanced up to find he wasn’t really listening to her explanation anyway.

  ‘That’s why you’re in my bath?’