The Tycoon's Outrageous Proposal

by Miranda Lee

Another sharp look from Doreen. ‘What else do you know about this man?’

  Cleo smiled. ‘He doesn’t eat breakfast, he’s an awful judge of movies and rather ruthless in business. But underneath his bachelor playboy façade, he’s really very sweet. And very kind.’

  Doreen rolled her eyes. ‘Of all the people for you to fall for.’

  Cleo laughed. ‘I haven’t fallen for him. I just like him.’

  And I want to go to bed with him. Oh, yes. I want to go to bed with him a lot!

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  ‘YOU’VE BEEN HAVING putting lessons.’

  Byron glanced up at Blake after he extracted his golf ball from the sixteenth hole. ‘Not exactly. Grace gave me a few tips.’

  ‘Grace?’

  ‘My PA.’

  ‘Have I met Grace?’

  ‘Probably.’

  ‘Is she young, blonde, and beautiful?’

  ‘No, that’s Jackie. She’s my receptionist. Grace is blonde, but she’s in her late forties. Let me also add that both women are taken. Jackie is engaged and Grace is coming up for her twenty-fifth wedding anniversary.’

  Blake snorted. ‘That would have to be a record these days.’

  ‘It is a rare achievement. I’ll grant you that.’

  ‘So what happened with you and the gorgeous Simone?’ Blake asked as they pulled their buggies over to the seventeenth tee.

  Byron shrugged. ‘I realised that I’d never make it with her to my first wedding anniversary, let alone the twenty-fifth.’

  ‘Ambitious young actresses are never a good bet, Byron. Not in the marriage department. Trust me, I know. I was married to one of them. For about ten minutes. They are terribly good fakers, until they’ve got your ring on their finger. Better for men like us to stay single.’

  Byron knew exactly what Blake meant. A happy marriage was a rare thing amongst the very wealthy. After his parents’ divorce, his father had taken many years to find Alexandra. Fortunately, she was wealthy in her own right and didn’t need Lloyd Maddox’s money.

  ‘But I want to get married,’ Byron said. ‘And I want to have children. I just have to find the right woman.’

  ‘Well, good luck with that. Now are we going to get back to the business at hand?’ he asked as they stopped by the seventeenth tee.

  Just then the sun came out from behind a cloud, bathing the course in the kind of unseasonal warmth that late autumn often brought to Sydney. Tomorrow the first of June would herald the coming of winter. Fortunately, the forecast for the weekend was for further sunny days, though the mornings would be crisp. Byron knew his mother’s party would spill out to the spacious pool area so rain would have been a disappointment to her. Not that people would be swimming. But the pool did make for an impressive backdrop for her myriad celebrity guests. Byron loved his mother but she could be a terrible snob.

  It was as well that Cleo was having a makeover, or Rosalind would have looked down her nose at her, and wondered what on earth Byron was doing with such a drab creature. His mother wouldn’t have understood that he had liked Cleo from the first, despite her boring wardrobe and her lack of artifice. Though maybe it was because of those very factors that he liked her so much. He wondered suddenly if he would like her quite so much when she was all dolled up.

  How perverse would it be if he didn’t?

  ‘It’s your honour since you won the last hole,’ Blake pointed out irritably when Byron made no move to tee up. ‘Which reminds me. If you want to invest in my next movie it might be wise to lose a hole or two. As it stands, I’m one shot behind.’

  Byron laughed. ‘That’s what Grace said. But you know what, Blake? I don’t really give a damn if you let me invest in your next movie or not,’ he said off-handedly, having found the best way to do business with some men was not to seem eager.

  Blake scowled, his dark brows drawing together. He had the looks of a tyrant, with gleaming black hair, a darkly brooding face and piercing blue eyes that bored into you. Handsome, though. And amazingly young to be on the cusp of conquering Hollywood. Only thirty.

  ‘Why not?’ he demanded to know.

  ‘Quite frankly, I have another potential investment on my plate at the moment, one which might cost me a good chunk of money. Not sure I will have enough spare cash left over to risk on a movie.’

  Blake’s face darkened further, if that were possible. ‘Risk?’ His eyes scorched Byron with their fury. ‘It’s not a risk to invest in one of my movies. They’ve all made money.’

  ‘True. But now you’re off to Hollywood and the big boys over there are sure to influence you. You won’t be truly independent for long.’

  ‘Rubbish! I will always do my own thing!’

  Byron teed up then whacked the ball right down the middle of the fairway. Though not as far as he was capable of. ‘Maybe I could manage to rustle up a million or two,’ he said casually, then dumped his driver back into his bag.

  ‘I’m going to need more than that,’ Blake grumped.

  ‘How much, then?’

  ‘Twenty million at least. My next film is going to be a blockbuster.’

  Byron laughed. ‘See what I mean? You’re thinking like a Hollywood producer already.’

  Blake speared him with a steely eye. ‘Look, are you in or out?’

  ‘Is Lachlan Rodgers going to be in it?’

  ‘He certainly is. I’ve already signed him up for the main role.’

  ‘In that case, I’m in. That boy has star quality written all over him.’

  ‘He certainly has. And it’s me who’s made him a star.’ Looking satisfied, Blake teed off and drove his ball a good fifty yards past Byron’s.

  As both men collected their buggies and strolled down the fairway, a more relaxed Blake turned to Byron. ‘So, are you dating anyone special at the moment?’

  Byron gave the matter a moment’s thought before answering.

  ‘Yes. Actually, I am,’ he admitted. His mother’s birthday party wasn’t going to be the last time he saw Cleo. Hopefully.

  ‘Could she be the wife you’re looking for?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Just a fill-in, then,’ Blake said. ‘Until the right girl comes along.’

  Byron didn’t like Cleo being described that way. She’d become way more than just a fill-in. If truth be told, his mind was obsessing over her to such an extent that he was finding it hard to sleep at night. He thought of all he had done yesterday, just to impress her. If he’d been visiting the refinery alone, that mangy dog would have been left up there. But no, Cleo had been with him, and he simply could not resist her pleading eyes and soft heart. So he’d loaded the smelly damned animal onto his father’s plane and brought him back to Sydney, then taken him to the vet and handed over his credit card details to have ‘darling’ Mungo operated on and looked after. All to see the joy—and the gratitude—in Cleo’s quite lovely brown eyes. Now he was even thinking of becoming a partner in McAllister Mines, just so he could keep on seeing her. Which was insane!

  Maybe if he could manage to seduce her tomorrow night as he’d originally intended, then he could start thinking with his brain again instead of his—

  It had steered him wrong in the past and was probably doing the same again.

  Yet it wasn’t just sex he wanted from Cleo any more, was it? He enjoyed being with her. It was a first for him where women were concerned. God, that made him sound so shallow. And chauvinistic. He knew there was much more to the opposite sex then just sex. He’d met plenty of super-smart women in his life. Career girls with more degrees than he had.

  The trouble was when this type of woman met him she strangely forgot all personal ambition and started coming on to him big-time, making it obvious that he could have her whenever and wherever he wanted. So of course he usually accommodated her wishes—if she was beautiful as well—without bothering to get to know her first.

  His ex-fiancées, however, had played their cards a little better. Eva hadn’t jumped into bed wi
th him for at least a fortnight after their first meeting, whetting his appetite with her gorgeous body and elusive tactics. She hadn’t been that fabulous in bed once he’d got her there, but by then he’d been so excited by the chase that any sex would have felt fantastic. Eva was also an expert flatterer, telling him she’d never had better and that she was madly in love with him. A month later they’d been engaged, at which point Eva had started showing her true colours, expecting him to spend a small fortune on an engagement ring, not to mention weekends away at luxury resorts and dinner every other night at the most expensive restaurants. When she’d had to go away to Hawaii on a photographic shoot for a fortnight, Byron had found that he hadn’t missed her at all.

  It had been the beginning of the end.

  Simone, admittedly, had jumped into bed with him a lot sooner than Eva. The very first night they’d met, in fact. Her skill was that she was very adventurous where sex was concerned. And seemingly insatiable. Easy for a man to become addicted to sex like that, and to believe her declarations of undying love. Until that million-dollar engagement ring had been on her finger. After that, the sex had started to dry up, and so had the love he’d thought he felt for her.

  Both women had been very angry when he broke up with them. But Byron knew what had angered them most was that they’d overestimated the power of their physical beauty, and underestimated Byron’s desire to marry a woman who would deliver the happy and settled family life he craved.

  In hindsight, he hated that he’d even considered marrying either of them.

  Byron knew that Cleo would never play those kinds of games. As Grace had said, she was a nice girl. Perhaps this was partly because she wasn’t obviously sexy as Eva and Simone were. But, strangely, he found that he admired that. He admired her. And he desired her. Very much so.

  Tomorrow night could not come quickly enough. He wondered if he should ring her, see how she and Grace were doing.

  Maybe after the game...

  * * *

  Cleo, Doreen and Grace were relaxing over coffee and salad wraps at an alfresco café in Martin Place, numerous plastic bags at their feet, when Cleo’s phone rang, her eyebrows arching when she saw it was Byron calling.

  ‘It’s Byron,’ she told the others before she answered.

  When both women gave her a knowing look, she rolled her eyes at them, then stood up to walk away from their table to take the call.

  ‘Hi there,’ she answered brightly. Lord, but just hearing his voice gave her a lift. ‘I thought you’d still be on the golf course.’

  ‘Blake’s a fast player. We’re in the club house, having lunch. He’s at the bar, getting us both a beer, so I thought I’d give you a quick ring, see how you and Grace are going.’

  ‘Very good. Actually, Doreen is with us too. She needed some fashion advice as well.’

  ‘Well, Grace is an expert.’

  ‘Which I have you to thank for. And I do. Wholeheartedly. Grace really knows her stuff, doesn’t she?’ Cleo was thrilled with what she’d already bought. And they hadn’t finished yet. It was only just after noon.

  ‘Grace is my secret weapon. You know what they say—behind every successful man is a seriously smart woman.’

  ‘She’s very nice, too.’

  ‘Indeed she is. Okay. Blake’s on his way back. I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty tomorrow evening. Try to be ready,’ he said. ‘It’s a long drive from Leichardt to Palm Beach.’

  Cleo swallowed. It was one thing to buy some fabulous new clothes, quite another to wear them with the kind of panache she wanted to show off with tomorrow night.

  ‘I’ll be ready,’ she choked out with a sudden dip of confidence.

  ‘Good. And you’ve got someone to pick up the dog tomorrow?’

  ‘Yes. That’s all settled.’ Which was just as well, since she would be spending most of tomorrow getting the works at the exclusive beauty salon Grace had booked. She’d been lucky there’d been a last-minute cancellation.

  ‘Great,’ Byron said. ‘Have to go.’

  ‘Before you do, did you win?’ Cleo asked.

  ‘Of course not. I’m not an idiot. But you can tell Grace that I putted well. Au revoir.’

  ‘Byron said to tell you that he didn’t win,’ Cleo reported as she sat back down at their table. ‘But that he putted well.’

  Grace laughed.

  Cleo frowned. ‘Do you think he deliberately lost?’

  ‘Possibly.’

  ‘But...’

  ‘All’s fair in love and business, Cleo,’ Grace said with a pragmatic shrug. ‘Byron wants a part of Fantasy Productions. It never does to antagonise a man you want to do business with, especially one with an ego as huge as Blake Randall.’

  ‘True,’ Cleo murmured, thinking that it was just as well she’d said yes to going to Byron’s party. Though to be honest, her priority was no longer getting him to invest in McAllister Mines. She just wanted to spend more time with him. Of course, if he did invest in McAllister Mines, she would spend more time with him. But if she were strictly honest, the fate of Scott’s business was a long way from her mind today. The fate she was more interested in was her own.

  Her sigh carried a degree of frustration. Because she still wasn’t convinced that all the expense she was going to would be worth it. She would never look remotely as good as that Simone creature. Or that other one. Eva What’s-her-name. Both of them had exuded serious sex appeal. She didn’t even know how to exude sex appeal.

  ‘No point being tired,’ Grace said, misinterpreting her sigh. ‘We have heaps to do yet. Lingerie to buy. And shoes. And bags. Not to mention perfume. Come on, we’ll go up to the David Jones store on Elizabeth Street where we can get them to mind these parcels whilst we shop till we drop. Then, when we’re finished, I’ll call a taxi to take you home. No catching the train with all you’ll have to carry!’

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  ‘THANK GOD,’ BYRON muttered when he turned into Cleo’s street and saw a car leaving. It was only a short street, but the houses were long and narrow, so there were plenty of them. And plenty of occupants, obviously. This was the inner western suburbs after all. And Sydney was a city of car owners.

  He backed into the blessedly empty space, checking his watch before he climbed out from behind the wheel. Seven-thirty exactly.

  The night was on the cool side, he noted as he zapped the car locked. He had settled on a lightweight, casually tailored suit in pale grey, which had loose-fitting trousers and a one-button jacket—which he always left open—teaming it with a crew-necked white top, rather than a normal shirt. His shoes and belt were black, locally made in crocodile skin. Byron liked to support Australian manufacture. The suit, however, was Italian; he only wore the best, after all.

  An uncharacteristic tension gripped his insides as he made his way down the side path of the small wooden house to the front door. Possibly it was the residue of his thought yesterday that he might not like Cleo as much once Grace had finished with her. Or perhaps it was this afternoon’s text from Grace telling him that he was in for a big surprise when he picked Cleo up.

  There was no doubt that his PA was enjoying this situation enormously. Though why, he wasn’t sure. Maybe she’d inherited the same matchmaking gene that his mother had. Or maybe all women were addicted to romantic endings. Byron knew there would be no romantic ending for himself and Cleo. A romantic interlude, perhaps, but they certainly weren’t destined for happily-ever-after.

  Still, that didn’t mean they couldn’t have a very satisfying affair.

  Strangely, this thought didn’t satisfy Byron as much as it originally had. It worried him that he was already becoming emotionally involved with this woman. He didn’t want to fall in love with Cleo. But he had an awful feeling that he just might, if he kept on seeing her after tonight.

  Another perverse thought.

  Damn, damn and double damn!

  Taking a deeply gathering breath, he let it out then rang the doorbell, which brought a vo
lley of loud barking from inside the house, followed by Cleo telling Mungo in a calm but firm voice to be quiet; that he wasn’t to worry; that it was just Byron. The dog fell silent just as the front door was swept open.

  The words big surprise did not begin to describe Byron’s reaction to the woman standing before him. If he hadn’t looked into her very familiar brown eyes, he would not have recognised her. Her gorgeous hair was down, waving around her face and shoulders like a movie star from the old days. Ava Gardner sprang to mind. Her face was perfectly made up, enhancing the beauty that was already there, waiting to be highlighted. Her red-glossed mouth looked lush and seductive, her eyes even larger now that she was wearing eyeliner and mascara. Some blush enhanced her cheekbones and gave her features more definition.

  But it was what she was wearing that stunned Byron the most. Her outfit was made in an electric-blue slinky material, showing off her hourglass shape, and skimming over her gorgeously full breasts. Her shoes were gold high-heeled sandals, which showed slender ankles and red toenails. Her fingernails were painted too, but not red. They were an elegant, pale pink. She wore no jewellery but there was a tantalising perfume wafting from her delicious-looking body. It smelled faintly of vanilla, and other scents he couldn’t identify.

  He looked her up and down with overt admiration. And yes, a wild burst of sheer lust. By the time his gaze returned to her face, her eyes seemed to have grown even bigger, a touching look of vulnerability in their widening depths. He suspected that Cleo was still feeling a little unsure, despite the incredible transformation.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ he said, straight-faced. ‘I must have come to the wrong address. I was expecting Cleo Shelton to answer the door.’

  Her face immediately broke into a wide smile. ‘Don’t be silly,’ she said, but he could see she was pleased by his back-handed compliment. ‘It’s me.’

  ‘You look stunning, Cleo. People will wonder what you’re doing with me, not the other way around.’

  ‘Oh, rubbish. You look incredible, like you always do.’

  ‘You’re too kind,’ he said. ‘Shall we go?’ And he held out his arm.