Secret Billionaire on Her Doorstep

by Michelle Douglas

  The fact that she had no idea left her feeling bewildered. How could she not know about this part of her mother’s life? She rubbed a hand over her chest. What on earth had made Donna turn her back on it so completely?

  Owen pulled the car to a halt in the parking area to one side of the house. He opened her door and stood there waiting patiently. Eventually he held out his hand. ‘Callie?’

  Forcing in a breath, she placed her hand in his. Warmth flooded her where before she’d felt numb and frozen. Something else flooded her when she found herself almost chest to chest with him—a thread of excitement and a sense of possibility. She didn’t know if it was for the estate or the man, but she welcomed it regardless. It was better than being numb with fear and crippled with misgivings.

  She glanced up—meant to send him a smile of reassurance—but their eyes locked and everything else receded into the background except the heat in his eyes and the firm promise of his lips... It would be so easy to—

  Barney barked his impatience at being confined to the car, and she and Owen snapped away from each other. With hands that shook, she let Barney out. The little dog leapt to the ground and paused, ears alert, before giving a happy yap and running in wide circles on the lawn.

  She couldn’t help but laugh. ‘Looks like Ellerslie has Barney’s seal of approval.’

  She turned back towards the house, careful not to look at Owen, and found a woman she guessed to be Mrs Dunsmore, the housekeeper, waiting at the top of the steps. The warmth of her smile welcomed them.

  ‘You must be Callie. I’d know Donna’s daughter anywhere! You look so much like her when she was a girl.’

  ‘You knew my mother?’

  ‘Oh, bless you, dear, yes—and don’t fuss about the dog. Dogs have always been welcome at Ellerslie. Yes, I remember your mother well. She spent a lot of time here with her nan and pop. Those were happy days...back in a time when the house was filled with people. But enough standing here on the doorstep. Come in and make yourselves comfortable. I thought we’d have lunch before touring the house.’

  She led them into an impressive entrance hall and through several large rooms, including the most amazing drawing room filled with gleaming antiques, to a big bright kitchen at the back of the house. From the open back door Callie could see a farmhouse garden.

  ‘I’ll hunt up some photo albums for you if you like,’ the housekeeper offered.

  ‘I’d love that.’

  ‘Also, the pair of you staying at the inn is nonsense. I’ve made up a pair of bedrooms for you. Now, don’t argue. The young miss here—’

  Callie? The young miss? She was twenty-seven!

  ‘—will want to have a good poke about all the places her mother used to like. While you’ll be wanting to check that the house and farm accounts are in order, Mr Perry.’

  ‘Owen,’ he corrected. ‘And I’m sure they’re in perfect order, with no need—’

  ‘There’s every need. My Pete has been fretting his poor old head about it ever since Mrs Frances died. He’d hate for anyone to think he’s been overstepping the mark. There’ll be plenty of time for everything if you stay. Besides, it’ll be nice to have some young blood in the house again—even if it is only for one night.’

  Owen lifted questioning brows at Callie and she nodded. ‘We’d love to stay, Mrs Dunsmore. We’re sorry to put you to so much trouble, but—’

  ‘No trouble! No trouble at all.’

  After a lunch of chicken soup and warmed rolls, she showed them their rooms. ‘I gave you your mother’s room, Callie. I thought you’d like that.’

  Callie loved it.

  Owen had the room next door.

  After a quick tour, Mrs Dunsmore said, ‘Now, I’ll leave you to have a mosey around at your own pace. Dinner is at seven o’clock on the dot.’

  ‘It’s so grand,’ Callie breathed, her head whirling with a million different thoughts.

  How could her mother turn her back on all of this?

  ‘The filming opportunities...’ Owen said.

  She swung around at his words. ‘That entrance hall alone!’

  ‘Did you see the portraits on the walls? All forebears of yours, no doubt.’

  Her mind raced with possibilities. ‘Mrs Dunsmore is bound to know who they all are. I wonder if she’d let me interview her for my video.’

  After wandering about for over an hour, they gravitated to a library that looked as if it had come straight from the set of a Jane Austen period drama. There they found an old family bible with the Allbright family tree inside its venerable leather covers. And a bookcase beneath one of the windows that had been given over to estate accounts going back over a hundred years. On another shelf they found the various diaries and journals of different family members who’d lived here.

  Callie pounced on one of the journals. ‘Look at this! It’s Hannah’s diary. Hannah and Douglas were Frances’s parents—my great-grandparents.’ She opened it at random, ran her finger down the page. ‘Oh! She’s talking about the terrible time after Thomas’s death.’ She read several paragraphs. ‘So sad...’

  Owen came to stand behind her, smelling of soap and warm cotton and reassurance. It gave her the courage to flick to the last entries.

  ‘Listen to this. “Donna came to stay for a few days. She’s met someone special. I can’t imagine anyone being good enough for my darling granddaughter, of course, but her whole face lights up whenever she speaks of him. It’s enough to gladden my heart. She’s promised to bring him to visit soon. I can’t wait to meet this man who has won her heart.”’

  ‘It’s her final entry,’ Owen murmured as Callie turned the page.

  ‘Hannah and Douglas died in a car accident not long after this.’

  ‘So...’

  Something in Owen’s tone had her glancing up. ‘So?’

  He rested a finger against the date of the final entry. ‘Frances remarried only six months after this. Somewhere between this date and the wedding, Frances and Donna had their big falling out.’

  True...

  ‘And neither of them had Hannah or Douglas to turn to,’ he said.

  She stared as his meaning sank in. ‘A lot happened in a short space of time... Both Hannah and Douglas were only children. With them gone, a whole generation of the family was lost.’

  ‘And Frances and Donna lost the benefit of older and wiser heads.’

  ‘You think Hannah and Douglas could’ve healed the breach?’

  He gestured to the journal. ‘I bet Hannah would’ve tried.’

  So did Callie.

  She traced a finger along the neat handwriting. ‘She doesn’t mention the name of my mother’s beau.’

  ‘Maybe Mrs Dunsmore will be able to shed more light.’

  Over dinner that evening, Callie asked her. But, while Mrs Dunsmore clearly recalled Donna’s last visit to Ellerslie, she hadn’t been aware of any special beau.

  ‘She was a lively girl, and lovely too—which meant she had a lot of admirers. But I don’t recall anyone special.’

  After dinner Callie returned to the library, to continue reading Hannah’s diary, while Owen hunkered down with Peter Dunsmore to go over the estate’s accounts.

  Unaccountably restless after only an hour of reading, Callie glanced out of the library’s French doors to the huge summerhouse. Its multitude of windows twinkled in the moonlight, and on impulse she pushed through the doors and walked down to it.

  The door opened at her touch. Fumbling for a light switch, she blinked as a sudden flood of brilliance blinded her. A series of chandeliers marched down the space, sparkling off the windows and turning the summerhouse into a fairyland. Callie pressed her hands to her chest and drank it in.

  Heavenly!

  Adjusting the dimmer switch to soften the lights, she walked the length of the pavilion, imagining the s
pace filled with elegant guests and tables groaning under the weight of delectable party fare while a band played on the raised dais at the far end.

  This would be the perfect place for a Great Gatsby-themed party. Or, better yet, for women in crinolines, their hooped skirts swirling as they waltzed with men in dark tail coats and white cravats.

  The picture was so clear in her mind that she found herself pretending to hide her face behind a fan and swaying to imaginary music. ‘Could you have this dance? Why, sir, I’d be delighted, I’m sure.’

  She swept a curtsey to an imaginary partner, and was about to embark on a waltz when an amused voice in the doorway said, ‘I’ve seen this movie. Julie Andrews in The Sound of Music, right?’

  Owen. For no reason at all, her pulse picked up speed.

  She swung round with a grin, not feeling the least embarrassed. ‘Technically it was Liesl, the eldest daughter. But as you got the movie right I won’t hold the details against you.’

  He moved the length of the pavilion towards her. There was a light in his eye that made her mouth dry even as his loose-limbed stride had her pulse thrumming.

  He stopped in front of her, male appreciation lighting his face as his eyes roved over her. ‘Ms Nicholls, you’re looking an absolute picture this evening.’ He swept a bow. ‘Would you do me the honour of dancing with me?’

  Oh, this was foolish and reckless. And impossible to resist!

  She fluttered that imaginary fan. ‘Why, Mr Perry, I thought you’d never ask.’

  And then she was in his arms and he was sweeping her around the room as if he’d been born to it. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d danced a waltz, but her feet recalled the steps effortlessly. Beneath her hand the latent power of his body came alive and she couldn’t help responding to it, her stomach softening and her breasts growing heavy.

  ‘You dance beautifully, Mr Perry.’ Heavens, was that breathless voice hers?

  The expression in his eyes held her prisoner. They continued to spin and twirl, perfectly attuned. ‘So do you, Ms Nicholls.’ Those grey eyes darkened and his feet slowed. ‘You’re beautiful...you know that?’

  Those last words hadn’t been spoken in the formal tones of a bygone era.

  Callie desperately tried to think of some flippant quip—a comeback that would break the spell he was weaving around her. There were reasons she should resist it. But her mind had gone blank. Owen and his broad shoulders and his tempting mouth filled her vision and her mind.

  They slowed to a halt, staring at each other, breathing hard.

  ‘Callie...?’

  She sensed how tightly he held himself, as if afraid that if he unclenched a single muscle he’d not be able to stop himself from sweeping her up in his arms and kissing her senseless. And she wanted that—despite all the reasons she shouldn’t. She knew what he tasted like now...knew how he kissed. That was the problem. He was addictive! And she wanted more.

  Standing on tiptoe, she met his hot, hungry gaze, her lips drawing closer and closer to his. She maintained eye contact, determined to draw back at his slightest indication, but his eyes dared her, the light flaring in them threatening to consume her. Finally, their lips touched, and a sigh left her as a quiver rippled down Owen’s entire length.

  Shaping her mouth to his, she threw caution to the wind and pressed closer, demanded more. His answer was swift and immediate. He hauled her close, took control of the kiss so completely her head swam, but she didn’t need her head and she didn’t need her balance. Owen held her securely and she gave in to the need that consumed her and trusted he would keep her safe.

  Tearing the hem of his shirt from his jeans, she ran her hand over the flat planes of his stomach to the defined muscles of his chest. Hot. Firm. Shamelessly seductive.

  Owen tore his mouth from hers to emit a low growl that only excited her more. She dragged her fingernails lightly down his chest, back to the waistband of his jeans. His body jerked, making her feel wanton, desirable...powerful.

  That was before he dipped her over his arm, pushed her jumper up to her neck and suckled her nipple through the thin silk of her bra. She gasped, currents of pulsing need coursing to her very centre. She found herself almost sobbing with the need for release.

  But then he halted and her mind seized up. Forcing heavy eyelids open, she blinked the fog from her eyes to meet his gaze.

  ‘I want you, Callie. I want you more than—’ He broke off, his breathing ragged, before righting her and drawing her jumper back down over breasts that throbbed. ‘But I need to know this is what you want too.’

  The words were an icy wash of cold reality.

  He pushed a hand through his hair. ‘I can’t... We can’t... If you’re going to regret it tomorrow, then we need to stop now.’

  She pressed suddenly cold hands to her overheated cheeks. She’d totally lost her head.

  He closed his eyes, before giving a single hard nod. ‘The expression on your face says it all.’

  She gave a strangled laugh. ‘All it can possibly say at the moment is how shocked I am at how completely I just lost control.’

  She tottered over to the dais and sat before her legs gave out completely. He hesitated, then joined her.

  She glanced at him and then at her hands. ‘I’ve never been reckless when it comes to sex. If anything I’ve always overthought it...if you know what I mean.’

  He nodded.

  ‘But just then...’ She covered her face with her hands.

  ‘I lost control too, Callie.’

  But he’d found it again. She doubted she’d have come to her senses in time to stop before things had—

  Before they’d reached their natural conclusion!

  She pulled her hands away. ‘I’m horrified at the impression I’ve given you.’

  He bent down so he could look directly into her face. ‘You’ve given me no impression other than the fact that you’re warm and lovely.’

  ‘And a mess.’ At his raised eyebrows, she continued. ‘That ex I told you about—he’s the reason my contract wasn’t renewed. We worked together. We’d had a fight. A minor one, I thought. But apparently he took exception to something I said, had a word in the head of faculty’s ear...and my job was suddenly history. I didn’t even realise we were no longer a couple until I was given my marching orders. I guess he wanted to make a big impact.’

  Owen’s quick hiss of breath told her what he thought of that.

  ‘So I promised myself that until I had my career back on track I’d not get involved with anyone.’

  He stared at the ceiling for several long moments. ‘I understand, Callie. You don’t owe me any explanations.’

  But she wanted to give him one all the same. ‘I know. It’s just... Even though I’m sorely tempted to blow raspberries at my resolution and start something with you...’ She moistened her lips and did what she could to ignore the yearning that pounded through her. ‘If we were to start something, and I were then to refuse the legacy Frances has left me, I can’t help feeling that would hurt you.’

  ‘Callie—’

  ‘And I don’t want to hurt you.’ She tried to find a smile. ‘Besides, it was hard sticking up for myself about the painters, but it felt good, and I don’t want to start backsliding—relying on other people instead of myself. Regardless of how much I want to kiss you, it feels like the wrong time to be starting something with someone.’

  ‘I’m hearing you. Ever since Fiona I haven’t been in the right headspace to start something new. She lied to me...used me...and her viciousness once I found her out...’ He shook his head. ‘I had a lucky escape.’

  A lock of hair fell onto his brow, making him look suddenly young and vulnerable. Her heart turned over in her chest.

  ‘You once asked me if suspicion was my default setting. It never used to be before Fiona.’

  S
he couldn’t stop herself from reaching out and squeezing his hand. He turned it over in his, lacing his fingers through hers.

  ‘So now I’m going to tell you something I should’ve told you from the very beginning. The company I work for, the one you think is so eager to keep me... Well, I actually own it.’

  She stared at him, trying to work out what he meant.

  ‘I moved back into the apartment building because Frances needed more help than she’d ever admit. I used my break-up with Fiona as an excuse.’

  ‘You were Frances’s carer?’

  ‘Of sorts. She didn’t need full-time care, but it became necessary to check on her every day.’

  He was a good man. Most men she knew would’ve delegated that task to a mother or sister. ‘So your company...it’s profitable?’

  ‘Very.’

  Her mouth went dry as she went over in her mind some of their previous conversations. ‘Profitable enough to buy the apartment complex?’

  ‘Several times over.’

  She tried to stop her eyes from starting out of her head. ‘Are you trying to tell me you’re a billionaire?’

  He grimaced. ‘I guess...’

  She gaped at him. ‘I have a billionaire living in the basement?’ And then she swallowed. ‘Oh, Lord. I accused you of using Frances as a meal ticket and resenting the fact you didn’t get anything in her will. But of course you didn’t need anything.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I...’

  Why on earth had he let her make such a fool of herself?

  She kept her tone light, even as things inside her shrivelled. ‘Let me guess—you’re self-made, right?’ At his nod, she started to laugh. She couldn’t help it. ‘You know what? I don’t feel guilty any more about dragging you away from your computers or getting you into trouble with your boss.’

  ‘You shouldn’t feel guilty about anything! I—’

  ‘Oh, God!’ She swung to him. ‘Fiona only wanted you for your money, didn’t she?’ The realisation struck her like a bolt from the blue, but she should’ve seen the connection immediately. ‘Oh, Owen, I’m so sorry.’ A bad taste coated her tongue. ‘You thought I was like her...’