by Miranda Lee
“Why me?”
“Because you were perfect,” came his smoothly delivered reply.
“Did you mind that I was a virgin?”
“Mind? Why would I have minded?”
She shrugged. “Because I was inexperienced. I dare say after a while you found me rather boring in bed.”
“Megan, darling. I am being honest. I never thought you boring in bed. At the same time that doesn’t mean that I would not have one day moved our love life in a more…imaginative direction. I get the impression you wouldn’t object if I did during our second honeymoon….”
“What do you mean by a more…imaginative direction?”
“I don’t think this is the time or place to go into detail. If you trust me, however, as the more experienced partner, I will show you when we get to Dream Island.” His eyes caressed hers in the most seductive fashion.
When a wealthy man takes a wife, it’s not always for love….
Meet Russell, Hugh and James, three wealthy Sydney businessmen who’ve been the best of friends for ages. They know each other very well—including the reasons none of them believe in marrying for love.
While Russell and Hugh have so far remained single, James is about to embark on his second marriage.
But all this is set to change as Russell and Hugh are also driven to the altar. Have they changed their minds about love—or are they ruthlessly making marriages of convenience?
Find out in Miranda Lee’s sizzling, breathtaking, daring new trilogy, out this fall!
Book one:
The Billionaire’s Bride of Vengeance
(September)
Book two:
The Billionaire’s Bride of Convenience
(October)
Book three:
The Billionaire’s Bride of Innocence
(November)
Miranda Lee
THE BILLIONAIRE’S BRIDE OF INNOCENCE
All about the author…
Miranda Lee
MIRANDA LEE was born at Port Macquarie, a popular seaside town on the mid-north coast of New South Wales, Australia. Her father was a country schoolteacher and brilliant sportsman. Her mother was a talented dressmaker.
After leaving her convent school, Miranda briefly studied the cello before moving to Sydney, where she embraced the emerging world of computers. Her career as a programmer ended after she married, had three daughters and bought a small acreage in a semirural community.
Miranda attempted greyhound training, as well as horse and goat breeding, but was left dissatisfied. She yearned to find a creative career from which she could earn money. When her sister suggested writing romances, it seemed like a good idea. She could do it at home, and it might even be fun!
It took a decade of trial and error before her first romance, After the Affair, was accepted and published. At that time, Miranda, her husband and her three daughters had moved back to the central coast, where they could enjoy the sun and the surf lifestyle once again.
Numerous successful stories followed, each embodying Miranda’s trademark style: fast-paced and sexy rhythms; passionate, real-life characters; and enduring, memorable story lines. She has one credo when writing romances: Don’t bore the reader! Millions of fans worldwide agree she never does.
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
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
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
PROLOGUE
MEGAN lay on her side in the hard, narrow hospital bed, hoping and praying that the injection the doctor had given her would start working soon. She could not bear to be awake for much longer. Could not bear the pain of her loss for another minute.
Yesterday she had been so happy, the ultrasound showing that she and James were to become the parents of a dear little boy. She’d been over the moon. So had James.
His lovemaking last night had been extra gentle and tender. They’d talked for ages afterwards, discussing what names they would give their son. They’d finally settled on Jonathon, after James’s older brother, who’d been tragically killed in a car accident some years earlier.
The cramps had started during the early hours of this morning. Then had come the bleeding. James had rushed her to the hospital and the doctors had done their best. But nothing could save her baby.
Tears flooding her eyes once more, Megan pressed a smothering fist into her trembling mouth when a sob threatened to escape. She didn’t want anyone to hear her weeping. She didn’t want to listen to any more words of comfort, or sympathy. All she wanted was oblivion. So she bit down on her knuckles and endured her grief in tormented silence.
Time dragged. So did Megan’s heart.
Finally, the sedative did its work and she drifted off to sleep. She did not see her husband re-enter the room a short time later. Did not see the distress on his face as he stared down at his sleeping wife. With a sigh he stroked her hair back from her face, then bent to kiss her softly on the cheek. Shaking his head, he straightened then strode from the room.
It was some considerable time before Megan stirred. Even then, her eyes stayed shut, her head feeling thick and heavy. She could hear voices in the room: male voices—gradually she recognised them as belonging to her husband’s two best friends.
‘James has been out there talking to that doctor for a long time,’ Hugh said irritably.
Hugh Parkinson was the only son and heir to a media fortune. Although he was a playboy by reputation, Megan had always found him rather sweet. He’d been best man at her wedding and had made the loveliest of speeches.
‘He’s probably worried about Megan’s condition,’ Russell answered. Russell McClain was one of Sydney’s most successful real-estate agents.
The three men had been best friends since they’d shared a room at boarding school. And, whilst they had little in common besides their wealth and their love of golf, their friendship had endured for over twenty years. Megan sometimes envied their unconditional affection for each other. She’d never been a girl to make friends easily, being somewhat shy and introverted.
‘Huh!’ Hugh snorted. ‘More likely making sure that she can have more babies.’
Megan was shocked, both by the reproach in Hugh’s voice and the inference behind his words. Surely he didn’t think James had only married her because she’d been pregnant! That wasn’t right. James loved her. She knew he did. Why, he told her so all the time!
‘He should never have married that poor girl,’ Hugh raved on. ‘It was wrong. No, damn it, it was downright wicked. Serve him right if she can’t have more kids.’
Megan’s mouth fell open. Why was Hugh being so cruel and so condemning of his friend?
‘That’s a bit harsh, Hugh,’ Russell said.
‘No, it’s not. Marriage should be about true love, not satisfying an egotistical need to reproduce.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with James wanting a family. It’s unfortunate that he doesn’t love Megan, but he is very fond of her.’
Megan had almost stopped breathing by this stage, the emotional pain of her miscarriage eclipsed by a shock even more devastating than the loss of her baby. She could survive that loss—eventually—if she had her husband’s love.
But it seemed she didn’t.
Oh, God…
‘I could forgive him if the girl had conceived by accident,’ Hugh said. ‘Marrying her under those circumstances would have been the honourable thing to do. What I find hard to condone is that he deliberately set out to impregnate her first.’
Megan had to stuff her fist into her mouth to stop herself from crying out. It was just as well she had her back to Russell and Hugh or they might have seen her hand move.
‘I can understand why he did that,’ Russell remarked. ‘You must remember what he was like when he found out Jackie was barren. The poor bastard was beside himself.’
Barren! His first wife was barren?
James had told her his first marriage had ended because Jackie, an Australian supermodel, wanted a jet-setting lifestyle, whereas he wanted a normal family life. He’d claimed they’d been drifting apart for ages and had split up by mutual consent. It was obvious, however, from what his friends were saying, that James had divorced Jackie because she couldn’t have children.
Megan desperately tried to find some mitigating circumstances against such a ruthless course of action. Maybe they had been drifting apart. They couldn’t have been madly in love, or James would surely have suggested adoption. Unless, of course, he was one of those egotistical men who only wanted a child who carried his own genes. Hugh had implied as much.
‘I could forgive the man if he’d chosen a tough bird like Jackie,’ Hugh growled. ‘But, of course, that wouldn’t do the second time round, would it? James had to regain total control of his life. So he zeroed in on an innocent young virgin who was so swept off her feet by the dashing James Logan that she wasn’t able to see the wood for the trees.’
‘You don’t know Megan was a virgin,’ Russell pointed out. ‘She is twenty-four. Not too many twenty-four-year-old virgins around these days.’
‘Oh, for pity’s sake, Russ, you only have to look at the way she acts around James to know he was her first lover. She’s utterly besotted with him. He could tell her the world was flat and she’d believe him.’
Megan cringed, whilst Russell sighed.
‘Probably,’ he said. ‘But that doesn’t mean James won’t make a good husband and father. He’s a bit ruthless at times, but still basically a good man. And a good friend. We have no right to judge him, Hugh, we’re far from being perfect. And it’s not as though Megan knows the truth.’
‘But what if she finds out?’
‘Who’s going to tell her? Not us, that’s for sure.’
No, Megan thought wretchedly. You wouldn’t tell me. Not even you, Hugh, who obviously didn’t approve of James’s actions. Both of you stood up at my wedding and bore witness to James promising to love, honour and cherish me when you knew it was all a lie.
Megan froze when she heard the door open, followed by the sound of her husband’s voice.
‘Sorry to be so long,’ he said to his friends. ‘Megan still asleep?’
‘Hasn’t moved a muscle,’ Russell replied. ‘What did the doctor say?’
‘There’s no reason why, in time, Megan can’t have another baby. But he cautioned not to rush things. He said it’s going to take quite a while for her to get over this. She’s taken it very hard.’ He sighed a weary sigh. ‘We both have. It was a boy, you know,’ he went on somewhat croakily. ‘We were going to call him Jonathon…’
Megan hated hearing the distress in her husband’s voice. Hated the fact that she could still sympathise with his pain.
‘I’m sorry, mate,’ Hugh said, all condemnation clearly gone now. ‘We do know how much having children means to you. You must be feeling really rotten. Come on, we’ll take you for a drink. There’s a pub just down the road.’
‘I’ll have to check on Megan first.’
‘Sure thing.’
Megan felt the warmth of his breath on her cheek as he bent over her.
‘Megan, darling, can you hear me?’
Why, oh, why did she open her eyes?
‘How are you feeling?’ he asked her gently.
Her eyes filled with tears as she stared up into the face of the man she loved, and who she’d thought loved her.
‘Go away,’ she choked out. ‘Please…just go away!’ The sobs came in earnest then, shoulder-wracking, heartbreaking sobs. She simply could not stop.
‘I’ll get the nurse,’ he said.
The nurse hurried in, a kind, motherly creature who took Megan in her arms and just held her.
‘There, there, dear,’ she crooned. ‘I know how you feel. I lost a baby once.’
But I’ve lost more than that, Megan agonised. I’ve lost everything!
And she sobbed all the louder.
‘Best leave her for now,’ the nurse directed at James, who was obviously hovering near by. ‘I’ll get the doctor to give her something stronger. She’ll be out of it for some time. Come back this evening. Hopefully, she’ll be feeling better by then.’
No, I won’t, Megan thought despairingly. I’m never going to feel better. Never!
CHAPTER ONE
Three months later…
SYDNEY in late April often belied the fact that winter was just over a month away. The nights and mornings could be crisp, but the days were usually warm and rain-free, the skies clear and blue.
The day of Hugh’s wedding was such a day. By mid-afternoon the temperature had reached a very pleasant twenty-four degrees, which was just as well, since Megan had little in the way of warm outfits to choose from in her wardrobe. She hadn’t been clothes shopping since she’d come home from hospital in January. In actual fact, she hadn’t been out of the house.
Till now…
Megan sat stiffly, her handsome husband beside her, in the second row of seats which had been set up on the main deck of the father of the groom’s super-yacht. When the invitation had first arrived, she’d immediately declined to attend. But James had said he wouldn’t go if she didn’t come with him. Then Hugh had called personally to ask her to reconsider. It wasn’t going to be a big wedding, he’d assured her. Only sixty or so guests.
‘It will do you good to get out,’ he’d argued. ‘You can’t go on like this, Megan.’
Which was true, of course. She couldn’t continue living the way she had, shutting the world out, shutting everyone out. Especially James. She had to make a decision whether to leave him or not, a decision which seemed beyond her. Making any decision seemed beyond her. The only way she made it through each day was by absorbing herself in the one activity she could rely on to provide some escape from the conflicting emotions which constantly besieged her mind.
Painting had always been an all-consuming passion for her, even when she was quite young. As a teenager she’d dreamt of becoming a famous artist one day, of having her works hung in the finest galleries in Australia. She’d begged her father to send her to art school after she’d graduated from high school and, much to her mother’s disgust, he’d agreed.
Megan had spent three years honing her craft, receiving much critical acclaim from her teachers, but not from the art world at large. She’d only ever had one painting exhibited—in a small gallery in Bondi—so it seemed unlikely she would ever achieve the level of success she’d once craved.
But she’d kept on painting, even after she’d married James, though it had been relegated to more of a hobby by then.
Now it was her one and only survival weapon, a way of coping.
It was ironic that, if James ever saw the canvas she’d been working on since her miscarriage, he would sweep her back to the doctor who’d diagnosed her with depression a few days after her miscarriage. No doubt he’d give her another prescription of anti-depressants, along with some more sleeping tablets.
As if pills could fix her problem!
Nothing could fix her problem but herself. Deep down, Megan had always known that. She’d finally thrown all the pills away a few weeks ago and hadn’t felt any worse. In fact, surprisingly, she’d begun to feel a bit better.
Deciding to leave t
he house and go to Hugh’s wedding was still a huge step for her, but she made it.
So here she was, dressed in the pale pink suit which had been her own going-away outfit, and which was now a size too large. She’d had to move the button on the waistband over to make sure the skirt stayed put. The jacket was a bit loose, but that was all right. It had once been somewhat snug. Her long dark hair was caught up in a French roll. She hadn’t been to a hairdresser in ages and this was the only sophisticated style which she could manage herself. Her make-up had taken her ages: foundation, lipstick and blusher to counter the pallor of her skin and lots of eye make-up, using toning shades of eyeshadow to complement her brown eyes and heaps of mascara. No eyeliner, however. She had tried it but her hands had trembled and she’d poked herself in the eye, making it water, so she gave up on that idea.
James had said she looked lovely when he’d first seen her today.
Inside, she’d shrunk from his compliment, in much the same way that she shrank from him whenever he tried to show affection to her. This time, however, she’d managed a small smile and a polite thank-you. Then, when he’d taken her hand as they walked up the gangway onto the yacht, she hadn’t snatched it away. She’d left it there.
That had been a mistake, Megan now realised as she stared down at where James still had her hand clasped firmly within his. Hand-holding might not be all that intimate an activity, but it was closer than anything Megan had allowed since her miscarriage.
Not once since she’d come home from hospital had Megan let James make love to her. Frankly, the idea of going to bed with him made her feel ill. Whenever he tried to take her into his arms she’d pull away with a sharp ‘no!’, after which she would usually make some pathetic excuse, saying that she was sorry, that she just couldn’t. Not yet.
