The Billionaire's Beautiful Intruder (Billionaire Knights Book 3)

by Nic Saint

  She leaned back, and watched the English coastline morph into the Scottish coastline. Finally the pilot announced, “Arriving at our destination in five minutes, Miss Grayson. Be advised, this might get a little rocky. Hold on.”

  In the distance she could see the small island, and in fascination leaned forward to gaze out the window. Tyler Island was shaped like a boomerang and sported a heavily wooded area to the North, with the inhabitable part located on a large promontory in the South. A single structure had been erected on the plain, she saw, a small brick house that looked rather austere from the air. It was built on the edge of the promontory, a sheer drop into the Atlantic Ocean to its back. To the front the flat land stretched out, and as the helicopter circled the house she saw there was a small beach located on the other side. Great. Mister Billionaire had built himself his own private Club Med. She was surprised, however, at the modest size of the house. She’d expected some sprawling mansion with swimming pools, Jacuzzis and a hundred bathrooms. This looked more like the kind of house a mountain trapper would build.

  And as the chopper swept down, she saw that a patch of land had been cleared and turned into a makeshift landing spot. It, too, looked pretty sparse.

  It was her understanding that the chopper wasn’t merely delivering her to the island but also providing essential supplies to its single inhabitant. Probably a few cases of champagne and caviar, she reflected bitterly.

  The pilot deftly landed the aircraft, and she waited patiently for the rotor blades to wind down and the engine to be switched off before removing her seatbelt.

  The pilot kindly helped her down, and she was glad to have her feet on solid ground again. She’d never enjoyed flying, the lack of control something that added to her nervousness. She was a person with two feet firmly on the ground and in full control of her life and destiny, and she liked to keep it that way.

  She looked in the direction of the house. It appeared even less imposing from where she stood. Simply a modest gray-brick construction, not befitting a billionaire in her estimation. And as she stared at it she saw the billionaire in question striding toward them, dressed in checked shirt and jeans. Even from this distance she could detect the scowl on his face. He was a tall man, and powerfully built, sporting a full beard and a head of black hair that descended to his shoulders. He must have allowed his close-cropped military cut to grow out since his arrival on the island. Which made sense, of course. Though she wouldn’t have put it past him to have his hair stylist flown in from London for a weekly grooming session.

  When they were within earshot he growled loudly, “What the hell is this?!”

  She braced herself, as if on a collision course with an inanimate object hurtling unequivocally in her direction. Like a meteor about to wipe out life on planet earth unless Bruce and Ben could stop it. But there was no Bruce or Ben to stop this man.

  She thrust out a hand. “Hi. I’m Molly Grayson. I’m your private nurse.”

  He scowled at her as if she’d addressed him in a foreign tongue. His eyes were dark and stormy, like the ocean crashing against the jagged cliffs surrounding the island, and his brows were drawn together in an expression as forbidding as the island itself, and just as unwelcoming. So much for the Club Med treatment.

  Instead of responding, he turned to the pilot. “What the hell is this, Marco?”

  Marco shrugged. ”Don’t look at me, Steve. I don’t order the packages. I just deliver them.”

  So now she was a package, huh? Nice. Real nice.

  “Well, you can take this particular package back to London,” Steve responded tersely. “No way is she staying on Tyler Island.”

  “Excuse me, sir,” Molly interrupted, going for the second attempt. “I’m a trained nurse, hired by your brothers to take care of you.”

  He glared at her. “I don’t need a nurse, lady. So get your perky little butt back into that chopper and tell Mike and Stu thanks but no thanks.”

  She frowned. This was even worse than she thought. Not only was he arrogant to a degree, but the man was a downright Neanderthal! Her antipathy toward Steve Knight was reaching a new high, if that was even possible.

  She planted her hands on her hips and stared him down. No billionaire he-man was going to get the better of her. “Look, Mr. Knight,” she said in a low voice, “whether you like it or not, I’ve been hired to do a job and you damn well better let me do it or else—”

  “Or else what?” Suddenly he was in her face, his eyes boring into hers with an intensity that had the hairs on the back of her neck bristling. She noticed his eyes weren’t entirely gray but flecked with dangerously shimmering flecks of silver. A rare and lethal combination. His lips were tight, but she couldn’t help noticing that his bottom lip was more sensuously full than she would have expected. Not that it was any of her business, of course. He was her patient, nothing more, and a very ungrateful one at that! Not that she’d expected anything different.

  “Look, I’ve left a lot of patients behind just so I could take care of you, so—”

  “So you can go right back to those precious patients of yours and leave me in peace,” he bit.

  “Your brothers have hired me, so you can’t fire me!” she snapped back.

  “Whatever they’re paying you, I’m sure they won’t mind letting you keep it, if that’s what’s worrying you. I’m pretty sure they’re good for it,” he growled.

  She bridled. “Money? You think I’m doing this for the money?”

  “Of course you’re doing it for the money, lady,” he drawled. “Don’t we all?”

  She pursed her lips disdainfully. Did he think she could be bought? How rude! “Well, not me. I’m here simply because—because…” The notion of that million pounds suddenly entered her mind and made her falter.

  He nodded knowingly. “How much are they paying you?”

  “Not a penny!” she declared haughtily, tilting her chin. “They’ve been so kind to offer Saint-Michael’s Hospital a generous donation, but I’m sure they would have done so regardless of my decision to accept their offer.”

  “How much?” he insisted, his eyes glittering dangerously.

  “One million pounds. But that’s neither here nor there.”

  He barked a curt humorless laugh. “A million pounds? That’s both here and there, all right,” he snapped, then drew his fingers through his long hair. “Look, I’ll talk to Mike and Stu. I’ll make sure your hospital gets to keep the donation, whether you stick around or not. I’m sure it’s an entirely worthy cause.”

  “It is a worthy cause,” she retorted, mentally adding, unlike you, bozo.

  “So you won’t mind taking your very worthy behind back to your very worthy hospital to take care of those very worthy patients of yours, am I right?”

  What was with this man’s obsession with her buttocks? “Wrong!” she returned. “I’m not the kind of woman who backs down so easily. Nor am I the kind of woman who accepts an assignment and doesn’t see it through!”

  “But you are the kind of woman who’s willing to respect a man’s wish—a man who’s telling you unequivocally that he wants to be left in peace. I never asked for this,” he added for good measure, stabbing his finger in her direction.

  That was too much, so she stabbed right back. “Well, neither did I!”

  She’d revealed too much, she saw, for his lips curled up into a cruel grin. “So that’s how it is, huh? You didn’t want to come so they twisted your arm. They dangled this million pounds in front of you and added in a fat bonus, no doubt.”

  “There was no bonus involved, fat or otherwise.” Perhaps there should have been, she now saw, for this was proving a lot harder than she’d anticipated!

  “Save it, lady,” he said in his gravelly voice, slashing his hand in a decisive gesture. “You’re not staying on my island and that’s my final word.”

  “Um, I’m sorry to intrude, Steve,” the pilot interjected, “but the weather isn’t getting any better and I’d like to ge
t back before it takes a turn for the worse.”

  “Of course,” said Steve agreeably, and instantly seemed to forget all about Molly or her infuriating presence on ‘his island’ and started helping Marco unload the chopper.

  Molly would have pitched in herself, but the cases looked entirely too heavy for her to lift. And of course nobody was asking for her help, either, apparently considering her a quantité négligeable.

  So she simply stood waiting for the men to finish and for Steve to return his attention to her so she could make it clear to him that she was here to stay, whether he liked it or not. She glanced around, and saw that the island was even less hospitable than she’d already surmised when surveying it from the sky. From where she stood vegetation was sparse and tough, befitting an island that was buffeted by the wind and lashed by frequent storms. As it was now autumn she just hoped the weather wouldn’t get too bad. She wondered what it must be like in the summer. She strolled away from the chopper and found herself glancing down a steep incline at the small beach she’d seen before. It suddenly looked a lot less enticing, and she wondered how one even got down there.

  And as she watched she had an image of Steve Knight plunging into the ocean, doing morning laps. And suddenly she imagined the infuriating billionaire as he casually wandered down the beach and dove into the ocean. She stole a roving glance at him as he picked a box from the chopper with apparent ease. His muscular arms had no problem with the heavy load, his broad shoulders working as he positioned the heavy-duty box on the makeshift landing area.

  He was actually quite handsome, she decided, when he wasn’t scowling at her. His face was angular, dark skin drawn taut over chiseled bone, and she found her gaze drawn to his tangled beard. She’d never thought bearded men attractive, but that was before she met Steve Knight. It made him look even more enticingly male, not to mention a little wild, and positively dangerous.

  She’d Googled him the night before, and found a picture where he posed in uniform with his men, his face hewn as if from granite, his eyes hard and narrowed into slits as the sun mercilessly beat down on his close-cropped head. The smooth-shaven appearance of the Steve Knight he’d been had been replaced by the long-haired man with the facial hair he sported now, but he looked just as darkly sexy—or a lot more so now than before, if that was even possible.

  She quickly gave herself a mental chiding. She had no business cataloging this man as sexy. He was her patient, and instead of judging his sex appeal she should be evaluating his mental state, and the state of his injuries. Though from where she stood he looked to be in excellent physical shape. Physical perfection was more like it, she thought as she felt a sudden flutter in her chest. She stomped on the flutter. She was here as the man’s nurse, not his cheer squad.

  “Can we discuss this in a civilized manner, Mr. Knight?” she asked when he unloaded the final crate. “I was hired to do a job and I do intend to see it through.”

  His eyes briefly flickered over her, then he held up his hand in farewell to the pilot, and grunted, “Thanks, Marco. See you next time, all right?”

  “Sure thing, Steve,” responded Marco, and Molly watched the billionaire effortlessly hoist two crates onto his shoulders and start toward the house without another glance back at her.

  “Hey!” she called out. “Mr. Knight! Mr—Steve!”

  But the infuriating man simply kept on walking, choosing to ignore her.

  She stood shaking her head. “Of all the stubborn, mulish, overbearing…”

  “Are you coming?” the helicopter pilot asked, holding the door for her.

  She saw that her luggage was still inside the chopper. So the pilot had probably guessed she wouldn’t be staying, huh? Suddenly rebellious, she stalked over to the aircraft, took a firm grip on her luggage and dragged it out until it hit the ground with a dull thud. Then she extended the handle and announced defiantly, “I’m staying put.”

  Marco raised an eyebrow. “Suit yourself, Miss Grayson,” he muttered with a sly grin, then abruptly jumped into the chopper and slammed the door shut.

  For a moment she felt hesitant. She’d wanted to make a statement and she had, but was she really so sure about staying on? Actually she wasn’t. Staying here was the last thing she wanted. She watched the pilot power up the engine and go through his preflight routine. If she returned to London now she’d feel like a failure. Even though Steve obviously didn’t want her here, his brothers did. They cared for him, and were probably sick with worry about him. If she left now, she was letting them down.

  And then there was that matter of the donation, of course. Even though Steve had told her the hospital would get to keep the money, she wasn’t so sure. Why would anyone part with a million pounds and get nothing in return? At least she had to make a valiant stab at trying to make this work. It was only for a week, after all. Next week Marco would be back, and this would all be over, her professional pride intact, Steve’s brothers reassured Steve was his crusty old self, and the hospital’s burn unit financially robust for another term.

  The pilot threw her a final glance, quirking an inquisitive eyebrow. In response she gave him a thumbs up, which he returned with a grin. The rotors slowly started to whine and slash the air with their signature twhop-thwop-thwop sound.

  With a sinking heart she watched her ride to London rise into the air and then finally take flight, quickly swallowed up by the gray skies overhead.

  She stood gazing after the disappearing chopper for a moment, wondering if she was doing the right thing. Then, figuring it was too late for second thoughts, she started trudging up to the house, quickly discovering the small rubber wheels were highly ineffectual when dealing with the rocky terrain.

  She wondered what Steve would say when he discovered the woman he’d wanted to ditch was still here, back with a vengeance and not taking no for an answer.

  And Steve would have been surprised if he hadn’t owned a powerful pair of binoculars and was watching her trudge up the makeshift road to the house, having trouble negotiating the rocky incline with her suitcase in tow.

  A dark frown creased his brow as he muttered, “Well, I’ll be damned.”

  The lady nurse, that pretty little firebrand, had decided to stay put after all. At least she had gumption, he admitted, and a lot of nerve. She had no idea what she was getting herself into, though, which was obvious from the slightly stupefied expression on her face. She didn’t strike him as the outdoorsy type, judging from the color seeping into her cheeks, the exertion coloring them as brightly red as her hair. He considered giving her a hand, but decided against it.

  If she was too stubborn to accept a direct order to stand down and return to her post she deserved whatever hardship was coming her way. Maybe then she’d realize that being out here wasn’t a fun walk in the park, or a paid vacation in paradise. Tyler Island wasn’t a place for pampered city folk like nurse Molly Grayson. The island was often violently lashed by storms, and life out here was tough and conditions harsh, which was just the way he liked it.

  He hoped she had some warm clothes tucked away in that suitcase of hers. Not because he cared if she suffered the capricious weather, of course. Simply because he didn’t want her getting sick on him, forcing him to take care of her the way she apparently was under the impression she should take care of him.

  When he’d stood at her side just now he’d noticed she was quite beautiful, with her flaming red hair, her bewitching green eyes and her pale freckled skin. She was probably the girlfriend of some hospital administrator, he reckoned, some eager beaver taking pride in the fact that she lent herself to charity work. Like him, he concluded grimly. He was her charity case—the project she’d been awarded by his overbearing brothers.

  But he wouldn’t play the victim, he vowed. He’d told his brothers to back off and leave him alone and that’s exactly what he wanted—what he needed.

  The moment she’d finally made it up to the house, red-faced and panting heavily, he stood waiting for her
in the doorframe. “What part of get off my island didn’t you understand?” he immediately demanded through gritted teeth.

  Her lips thinned, and her chin lifted mutinously. God, she was gorgeous. Her eyes were the color of jade and sparkled mutinously as she stared back at him, a fire in them that had to be seen to be believed. He suddenly wondered how they would look if he kissed her, but quickly shrugged off the thought.

  “Look, buddy,” she began, struggling heroically to catch her breath.

  “Oh, just get your ass inside,” he grumbled. What was the use of arguing? She wasn’t going anywhere now. He stepped aside so she could enter. And as she was passing him he caught a whiff of her perfume. Something flowery and lemony and wholly wholesome and fresh.

  And when her hair brushed against his cheek, the softness took him by surprise, and he had the fleeting desire to run his hand through the russet strands. To let them slide between his fingers, then grab a handful of them, yank her head back, and worry those fiery lips of hers with a devastating kiss.

  He frowned at the peculiar thought, the first time in a long while that he’d found his mind wandering in this particular direction, then decided to ignore the unwelcome intrusion. “Welcome to my humble abode,” he told her grudgingly, and saw that she was looking around, blinking in surprise, as if the place wasn’t at all what she’d expected. What did she think this was? Club Med?

  Chapter 3

  The house was a lot more modest than she’d anticipated. In her imagination the Knight billionaires had built themselves a mansion to rival the movie stars of this world, but this was more like a modest log cabin, only built with brick not logs. The walls were roughly hewn chunks of black rock, probably the same rock that made up the island, and the interior was surprisingly dim and spartan, with small windows, wooden floors, and furniture as sturdy and bare-bones as the rest of the place. She managed to suppress a cry of surprise, and the large imposing male who stood next to her produced a sound halfway between a snort and a mocking laugh.