How to Marry a Billionaire

by Ally Blake

  ‘What plans could a romantic interest mess up, do you think, Adam?’ Chris said, his expression playful.

  ‘Maybe she wants to be Miss Australia,’ Adam said.

  Cara shot him her most disparaging glare. ‘You got me in one. I wanna be a beauty queen.’

  ‘You’d get my vote.’

  That shut Cara up quick smart. She turned back towards safer waters. ‘OK, Chris. Enough mucking about. It’s time to roll.’

  She smoothed down the shoulders of Chris’s jacket, flicked practised fingers through his hair and straightened the flower in his buttonhole. With a soft click of her cheek, she gave Chris a big smile.

  ‘Looks like I’ll be on clean-up duty for the rest of the day. I’ll be following after those women out there wiping up their drool.’

  Chris grimaced.

  Jeff poked his head in the tent. ‘OK, sports fans. Let’s do it.’

  Cara spun Chris on the spot and with two hands in the middle of his back gave him a nice shove towards the door flap. Once outside in the light of day, Chris was no longer hers as he disappeared into the swarming crew.

  Cara felt Adam sidle up beside her.

  ‘Looks like it’s just you and me again,’ he said.

  Cara shrugged, more to give herself the chance to shake off the same old strain that always came upon her when he was so close.

  Obviously telling him and herself the attraction resonating between them would come to no good simply wasn’t working. It was like throwing a thimbleful of water on a bushfire. So then and there she made a decision to befriend the enemy, hoping it would make him less unnerving. Less intriguing. Less affecting. She would treat him as a mate, in the hopes it would make him as likely to sweep her off her feet as Jeff. Perish the thought!

  ‘Looks that way,’ she said, looping an arm through his. ‘So I guess we’ll have to bear it with what grace we can. Come on, you can buy me a drink.’

  ‘It’s an open bar,’ he said, his feet planted, his tone even more stoic than usual.

  She had no choice but to look him in the eye. ‘The sun is shining. It’s the Melbourne Cup. We are in a private tent, being waited on by men with weird food and goldfish bowls on their trays, so I am looking to take advantage and have an all-round fabulous day. Are you going to work with me here or not?’

  His cool expression finally melted and Cara was rewarded with a hint of one of those rare, thus all the more enjoyed for the having, smiles.

  And the reaction it caused in her stomach was almost enough for her to wish she could take back her little rant and keep to the other side of the tent alone all day. Almost.

  ‘OK, boss,’ he said, tucking her hand more securely through his arm. ‘An all-round fabulous day coming up.’

  When the big race came, the crowd moved forward as one. The Melbourne Cup had begun. Every person in Australia stopped what they were doing, turned to their televisions or their radios or the racecourse in front of them. Every person in the country stopped, watched and screamed their lungs out.

  Every person except Adam, whose eyes remained steadfastly locked onto the back of the woman in the black and white dress, leaping about amidst the crowd of cast and crew before him.

  She had been talking to him earlier, when she was chatting to Chris about not looking for romance, he had been sure of it. He had her running scared, before anything more had even happened between them than some light teasing and a few stray chances at touching one another. Cara was very determinedly trying to keep their relationship professional, even though she still flinched as if she had been burned every time they brushed within an inch of one another. And that sort of awareness should not be ignored. It had promise.

  So what was the big problem?

  The problem was Adam felt an attraction to her so strong he could all but see the ropes binding them together, but he also felt frustratingly disconnected. She was tough with Jeff, encouraging with the girls, a mate to the crew and a rock for Chris. But with him she was like vapour. Ephemeral, changeable, out of reach. And he knew there was no way he could stand another week watching her give everyone else exactly what they needed, except him.

  The horses rounded the straight and the crescendo of noise and heat swelled around him. But Adam couldn’t have cared less. He wanted nothing more than to drag Cara back into the private room at the rear. To have her all to himself. He willed her to turn, to look back at him, to smile, to understand. But she did not. She bounced up and down, her eyes firmly fixed on the race before her.

  ‘Yippee!’ a familiar husky voice called out, dragging Adam from his reverie. ‘It only took all bloody day but I finally picked a winner! I’ve never won anything. Ever! Not even a school fête raffle!’

  Weaving her way through the dispersing crowd, Cara tumbled over to him and threw herself so wholly into his arms her feet no longer touched the ground. Adam baulked. He finally had what he wanted. She was in his arms, but he didn’t know what to do with her.

  She felt so fragile and soft. So energetic and young. And he was completely overwhelmed.

  ‘So how much did you win, Cara?’ Adam asked when she finally stopped bouncing.

  Cara stood on tiptoe, shielding her eyes from the sun as the final odds came up on the big screen. ‘I won…twelve dollars and fifteen cents.’

  After a brief pause Adam asked, ‘That’s it?’

  ‘I only put down a fifty-cent bet.’

  ‘And that’s enough to get you into such a state?’

  ‘I’m a girl who’s learnt to take her joy wherever she can get it.’

  Adam looked down into her smiling face and he knew she was also a girl who knew what she was talking about.

  Her arms were slung casually around his neck, one hand buried deep in his hair, the other tucking under the collar of his shirt. Above the scent of her freshly applied sunscreen Adam noticed the mixed scents of cut grass and her usual floral perfume wafting on the warm air. And everything suddenly became clear.

  If he was looking for a moment of joy to remember, to cling to, to revisit, this was it. He took the time to burn the imprint of the moment onto his memory.

  The desire to kiss her swept over him, and, for a guy who lived by the control he had over his faculties, the feeling was overpowering. No matter that it would have her running to the hills before he even had the chance to finesse her; her smiling face, her pliant, warm body, the sweet scent of champagne on her breath, the whole kit and caboodle inundated him to the extent that his head began to spin. His head that was of its own accord lowering to hers.

  Then, before he could finally taste of those sweet lips, she was wrenched from his arms by a very insistent Jeff.

  ‘Come on, my little winner, I need to rub you for good luck. Tell me who’s going to win on the next race.’

  Cara shot a forgive-me grin over her shoulder as she was bundled off towards their bookie.

  It was the second time they had almost kissed, and the hundredth time he had wanted to do it. What on earth was happening to him? If he saw someone he wanted this much, he went for it. Always. So what was the problem? He knew with every faltering breath and every flicker of those expressive green eyes that she was just as attracted to him, no matter how much she was trying to tell herself she wasn’t. So what? What was stopping him from simply taking what he wanted, consequences be damned?

  She was nothing like the sort of woman his father kept; she preferred a flower in her hair to jewels around her neck and he would have put money on the fact that her caramel-coloured hair was as close to its natural colour as that of any woman he had met, and that those curls were all hers.

  Still, she could be a wolf in sheep’s clothing. But if that were true, would that fact make her less datable or more so? Adam could barely remember any more, he had put such strict and overlapping boundaries on himself when it came to his relationships with women.

  With every step that his business grew, he added a brick to the wall around his heart. And this one, without even try
ing, made him care so little about the consequences of his actions he wanted to take a sledgehammer to the whole thing so he could just start afresh.

  Adam shoved his hands deep within his trouser pockets and stormed off to find himself the greatest gulp of fresh air he had ever needed.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  AT THE end of the day, all of the key crew ended up in Chris’s suite back at the Ivy Hotel with Cara hanging onto Chris at the front of the conga line.

  ‘Three cheers for the winner!’ Chris shouted.

  Cara gave the cheering mob a tipsy pirouette. ‘Thank you. Thank you all. And I want to let you know that I plan on using my twelve dollars and fifteen cents only for the greater good. Money will not change me. I will still look down on you as ants to be crushed beneath my feet as I always have.’ She gave them a nice deep curtsy, before collapsing onto the couch, her wide, multi-layered skirt puffing out around her.

  Adam followed behind, ever the big brother, the watcher, standing on the outside looking in. He shut the door behind them, as the gang obviously had no thought for such sensibilities.

  ‘Yet twelve dollars and fifteen cents does not a fortune make,’ Cara said thoughtfully.

  Adam pulled out one of the dining chairs and turned it to face the sunken lounge. He sat down, leant an elbow on the dining table, and rested his head against his hand. And he watched the interplay before him.

  ‘True,’ Chris said, smiling companionably at Cara. ‘It will hardly pay off one’s university loan.’

  Cara fluffed a hand at Chris. ‘All paid off.’

  Adam paid closer attention.

  ‘Really?’ Chris asked, his voice also a little giddy from champagne, sunshine and something else Adam could not put his finger on. ‘OK, then, what about your car loan?’

  ‘Paid off.’

  ‘My, my. Home loan, then?’

  Cara opened her mouth, then closed it. ‘Not quite,’ she finally said, grinning sheepishly. She then held up her hand, squinting through a tiny sliver of light that could be seen between her forefinger and thumb. ‘But I am this close.’

  She leaned over and in a loud stage whisper declared to the world, ‘You know what else? My parents rented their entire lives. Never owned a house. Never owned a car. And in a little over a week, when I get my pay for this magnificent gig, I will have both. Not bad, eh?’ She nodded, obviously mightily impressed with herself.

  Chris nodded along with her. ‘Not bad at all. And how old are you?’

  ‘Not yet twenty-seven and not, may I add, a part owner in a multibillion-dollar company.’

  Chris grinned back. ‘Well, good for you. The styling business must be more lucrative than I thought.’

  ‘Perhaps a very little,’ she said with a self-deprecating giggle. ‘I learnt early that, though twelve dollars will not quite get me my building, every cent helps.’

  Chris nodded sagely, his head wobbling slightly on his neck. ‘Makes sense to me.’

  Adam ran a hand through his hair. The talk of money had him shifting in his seat. Her face took on a whole new look when she spoke of cents and dollars. It glowed with determination. He had seen something akin to that look many times over and it always made him uncomfortable.

  But this was different. This one was determined to do it on her own. And that was what was making him itch. If she really came from nothing as she professed, then why the hell wasn’t she throwing herself on his mercy? How much could she possibly be earning from the gig? A few thousand at most. A pittance to Adam. She had him so stirred up, if she played her cards right she could get pretty much whatever she wanted from him. At that nauseating realisation, Adam’s itch got worse.

  ‘Besides which, I wouldn’t say I was the big winner of the day.’ Cara pulled herself from her chair and shuffled over to Chris, plopping herself on his lap.

  Adam sat up straighter at this sudden move. If he thought the talk of money made him uncomfortable, seeing Cara sitting on his best friend’s lap made his jaw clench so tight he half expected to taste blood.

  He wrenched himself from his chair and began to pace the room.

  ‘I would say that young Christopher here was our big winner,’ Cara continued, pinching Chris on both cheeks.

  Jeff and the other crew, who had been more intrigued by the contents of Chris’s mini-bar than by the conversation at hand, suddenly joined in.

  ‘Hear, hear,’ Jeff agreed, holding up a glass of something brown and alcoholic.

  ‘What?’ Chris said, his neck turning red.

  ‘It is so obvious,’ Cara gushed. ‘You are a goner. You are in lurve.’

  ‘Am I even allowed to talk about this?’ Chris asked, looking to Jeff for help.

  Jeff shrugged. ‘So long as it’s only between us, I don’t see why not. Go for your life.’

  ‘I know who Chris likes,’ Cara chanted. ‘I know who Chris likes.’

  Adam stopped his pacing. He turned and watched. Waiting. Suddenly it didn’t matter to him that Chris was falling from his protective reach. It just mattered to him that the conversation be finished as soon as possible so that Cara would disembark from his friend’s lap.

  Cara leaned down and whispered in Chris’s ear and Chris blushed madly. He looked back at her, his face changed, filled with wonder and delight. And Adam stood stock-still with shock. Chris was not just falling. He had fallen. Chris was in love.

  Adam’s head began to spin. It was fast becoming too much to take on. But what could he do? Nothing. Just stand there and take it all in. Standing on the outside looking in had suddenly taken on a whole new meaning. He was simply out of the loop.

  Adam cringed as a great rocking INXS song suddenly blared out of the hidden speakers. Jeff had found the stereo. The whole gang joined in, singing happily at the tops of their lungs. Cara leapt from Chris’s lap and dragged him from the chair. They danced about the room, with each other, alone, as a group, copying each other’s muddled steps. Cara, as the only woman in the room, had the most attention as the guys took it in turn to twirl her in their arms.

  And though she was not the most coordinated person on a sporting field, and though Adam was more than sure that she walked extra carefully when wearing heels more than an inch high, she was one heck of a dancer. The music did something to her, gave her confidence, or perhaps some kind of shield so that she could just let go. Her lithe body spoke of the poise of a ballet dancer and it did not disappoint. She was graceful, and the pulsing tempo of the song sang through her limbs.

  Then the music changed. A slow number ensued. The gents partnered up, stumbling, twirling each other about the room. Cara and Jeff joined in, both leading and both following in a ridiculous mimicking imitation of a ballroom-dancing exhibition.

  That was as much as Adam could take. He stormed down to the makeshift dance floor and tapped Jeff on the shoulder. Jeff turned to him, and it took a few moments for understanding to dawn. Then he departed with a gallant bow leaving Cara standing, puffing slightly, her green eyes bright and dancing themselves. Adam reached out and took Cara into his arms. And without a word she came to him.

  She rested her heavy head on his shoulder and swayed jauntily to the beat. Adam slowed her down, leading until she followed, her feet stopped jitterbugging and eventually she just swayed. She hummed, the sound vibrating through his chest, her sweet voice lilting and tripping across the chords of the song.

  It was all he could do to stop himself from holding her tighter still. To wish that the room would clear. To have the sun set and leave them in the darkened space, alone.

  ‘What did you say to Chris earlier?’ he asked, his voice low and solemn.

  Cara lifted her head from his shoulder. ‘Hmm?’ She looked at him with a blissful smile on her face.

  And what a face. Pretty, pale, a smattering of freckles darkened lightly by their day in the sun, small upturned nose, long eyelashes framing her gorgeous green eyes, and lips that were made for kissing.

  It took Adam more than a moment to recall his
thoughts.

  ‘Chris,’ he remembered. ‘I was wondering what you said to Chris that had him look so happy.’

  ‘Oh. That.’ She leaned in closer so as to whisper to him. Adam could smell the sweet scent of strawberries and champagne on her lips. It was about as much as he could bear. ‘I told him I thought she was just lovely.’

  ‘Who?’ he croaked.

  ‘The woman who makes him smile.’

  ‘And who is that?’

  She pulled back and waggled a finger at him. ‘I can’t say. It wouldn’t be fair. Though I am a hundred per cent sure that I know who she is, it is not up to me to lead him her way. It is up to him to decide who the woman is who would make him most happy.’

  ‘So how can you be sure you know who it is?’

  She raised one eyebrow, one side of her lips kicking up in a wry smile creating the gorgeous smile line in her right cheek. ‘Are you serious? Are you really telling me that you haven’t seen the signs?’

  ‘What signs?’

  ‘The signs! The fact that he has slowed down immeasurably. He’s not so nervous any more. He smiles for no reason. He looks at least half a foot taller. He doesn’t whinge when we shave his chest any more. The signs!’

  Adam had seen them all right, but he had been so distracted by…other things that they had passed him by.

  ‘OK. So I’ve seen the signs. Which one is she? The chesty redhead? The blonde who laughs like a donkey? Don’t tell me it’s the cross-eyed brunette.’

  Cara slapped him on the chest then her hand remained resting there, just above his heart, and it was almost enough to distract him anew. He swallowed hard.

  ‘So what if it was one of those girls?’ Cara asked. ‘If they make him smile, make him relax, make him happy, does it really matter?’

  ‘So long as they treat him well,’ Adam said, and was shocked to hear the words spill from his own mouth.

  ‘Exactly. And I know that this girl feels the same for him.’

  ‘How?’

  She rolled her eyes, then her hand slipped up from his chest to take him by the chin, drawing his focus back to her face and nothing else. ‘The signs, silly. The signs.’