The Tycoon's Scandalous Proposition--A Marriage of Convenience Romance

by Miranda Lee

  ‘Hell, no. It’s good publicity for me—and for you. Those photos will be all over the internet somewhere within the hour—with a caption something like Blake Randall meets mystery woman at airport. A new star or a new girlfriend?’

  ‘Goodness!’ Kate exclaimed, not sure if she was thrilled or anxious.

  She didn’t like the thought of her family seeing it—especially her mother. But even if she didn’t see it, Maddie would. And she rang her mother every day. Being on her honeymoon wouldn’t stop her. She could just imagine their conversation. Maddie might have urged Kate to make a play for Blake, but she wouldn’t have dreamt that her sister would end up in LA, staying at his house.

  Actually, Kate was finding it all a bit surreal herself. She could hardly believe that she was here. The last few days had seemed endless. Blake had rung her every day, which had been wonderful, but it had made her crave to be with him again. She’d almost forgotten her career for a while, her focus more on the sexual side of things. Yet they were both entwined, weren’t they?

  ‘Don’t let it bother you,’ Blake said, perhaps sensing her sudden unease. ‘The Hollywood publicity mill runs on endless speculation. Best not to fight it or it only gets worse. Go with the flow. Have fun with it.’

  ‘Fun?’ she echoed.

  He grinned over at her, then picked up her hand and kissed it like a gallant gentleman of old. ‘Oui, mademoiselle,’ he said, sounding like Maurice Chevalier in Gigi.

  Their eyes met over her hand and the air around them thickened with instant desire. How handsome he was—and very sophisticated-looking, dressed in a charcoal-grey business suit, white shirt and silver tie. Her heart had fluttered when she’d first sighted him at the airport. It had also pushed firmly aside any qualms she’d had over this trip. For she’d seen real affection in his eyes. Real caring.

  Now all she saw was hunger—a raw, animal hunger which threatened to transcend her own.

  A highly erotic shudder rippled down her spine and he saw it, his eyes darkening. He enfolded her hands in both of his and pulled her hard against his side. She dropped her head to his shoulder with a sigh. This would have to do. For now.

  ‘If photographers are going to pop out from behind every pole or door,’ she said, after a couple of minutes wallowing in the warmth of his body, ‘I’ll have to watch how I look when I go out.’

  ‘You always look gorgeous,’ he told her.

  She smiled up at him. ‘I really don’t. But it’s sweet of you to say so.’

  ‘Did you bring some going out clothes with you?’

  ‘Sort of...’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘I suspect that my version of “going out” clothes falls a little short of the Hollywood version.’

  ‘Maybe. Maybe not. People don’t always get dressed up to the nines here. It can be a very casual city. But if you like I’ll take you clothes-shopping tomorrow.’

  ‘Will you?’ she said, smiling wryly to herself as she recalled a scene from one of her favourite movies. ‘In Rodeo Drive?’

  ‘Of course.’

  Her eyes slanted up to his. ‘Thank you, but I think I should make do with what I have until I earn some money,’ she said, knowing that that would be taking things a step too far. As it was, the balance of their relationship was a bit iffy. No way was she going to let him start buying her clothes. ‘Actually, my wardrobe is not too bad at the moment. Dad forked out some more money for me—behind Mum’s back, of course—and I went shopping this week. Also, fortunately the weather here is similar to that in Sydney at the moment.’

  ‘So it is. Your spring is much the same as our fall.’

  ‘Fall? Oh, you mean autumn.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You seem to have become very American in the short time you’ve been over here.’

  ‘Actually, I am half-American.’

  Kate sat up straight and stared at him, the action pulling her hand out of his grasp. ‘How did that come about?’

  ‘My mother’s American. My dad met her when they were both studying medicine at Harvard. I was born over here—in Boston. They moved to Sydney just after I turned one. I have dual citizenship.’

  ‘You still sound like an Aussie to me,’ Carlos piped up. ‘More so than Kate.’

  ‘For which I am grateful,’ Blake said.

  Kate settled back in the seat and put her head on his shoulder again. ‘The teachers at NIDA insisted that we get rid of any strong Australian accent. They said it was a negative when it came to getting work.’

  ‘That’s absolutely correct. Especially in Hollywood. They like an international-sounding voice. Not too many roles over here for Australians. By the way—did you bring all your references from NIDA?’

  ‘What? Oh, yes—yes, of course.’

  ‘Good. We’ll need those to help get you the necessary visa for you to work here.’

  Kate frowned. ‘There won’t be a problem with that, will there?’

  ‘I doubt it. I’ve hired the best lawyer in LA to process your application. Now, no more work talk. We’re almost home.’

  ‘Already?’ Kate’s head swivelled to see where she was.

  ‘West Hollywood isn’t that far from the airport,’ Blake explained.

  The limousine wound its way up a rather steep road, with houses set back behind high security walls and often behind tall trees. Not that she could see them very well. Night had fallen, and whilst there were street lights they were few and far between. Up and up the road went, and one side of the road was now higher than the other.

  Kate was craning her neck to peer up at the spectacular properties on the high side when Carlos pulled into a wide driveway in front of some tall wooden gates fixed into an equally tall stone wall. She couldn’t see through that either, but she could see over it.

  Up high, on a hill beyond, sat a house which took Kate’s breath away. Whilst possibly not the biggest house in the world, its contemporary architecture could not help but impress. Over the wall she could see two rectangular-shaped floors, white in colour and cement rendered, the top one smaller than the one below. Both had wide covered decks which were lit up and no doubt provided splendid views of the surroundings.

  Kate suspected, however, even before the gates opened, that there would be another floor out of sight. And she was right.

  The bottom floor was even larger, encompassing a six-car garage, a fully equipped gym and a separate two-bedroom apartment which Carlos and his wife Juanita occupied—this information supplied by Blake as the limousine rolled into the huge garage next to a black sports car and a white sedan.

  ‘So what do you think?’ he asked her.

  ‘I think,’ she replied, ‘that you are a very lucky man to live in a house as amazing as this.’

  ‘And I think,’ Carlos added with a cheeky smile over his shoulder, ‘that I am an even luckier man to have a boss like Señor Blake.’

  Blake just laughed, but Kate could see he was pleased. Proud, too, of his house.

  After meeting Juanita—who was as welcoming and cheerful as Carlos—Kate was given the grand tour by Blake. They started on the middle floor, which encompassed two large living areas, a bespoke kitchen, a home theatre, three en-suite guest bedrooms and another powder room for the use of guests, as well as a solar-heated pool which was entertainment heaven, with an indoor-outdoor barbecue and a cute cabana, complete with comfy lounge setting, a washroom and a built-in bar.

  But it was the deck that led off the living area at the front of the house which took Kate’s breath away.

  ‘Oh, Blake,’ she said, leaning against the wooden railing with a wondrous sigh. ‘This is some view.’

  That was an understatement. She could see for miles across the lightly timbered valley and over to the hill on which stood the famous HOLLYWOOD sign.

  ‘The view upstairs is bet
ter,’ he said.

  ‘Really?’ She found that hard to believe.

  ‘I’ll show you. Then we’ll come down and have some dinner. Juanita’s cooked something special for you. I knew you’d be too tired to go out.’

  Kate actually didn’t feel tired, despite not sleeping all that much on the plane. She’d been too excited. And too afraid. Not of flying. Or of Blake. But of what she had done, leaving her home and her country behind to be with Blake and pursue a career not on the stage, as she’d always intended, but in the movies—which was much more daunting to her.

  Stage work was safe in Kate’s eyes. Her looks weren’t on display so much as they were in movies. She’d never been an overly confident or a bold person, but since meeting Blake she’d begun to change. He made her feel beautiful for starters. And now, tonight, in his company, she was changing again. No longer afraid, she felt both alive and confident. And, yes, free. Free of past failures. Free of her futile love for Lachlan. Free to really move on.

  It was a delicious feeling.

  ‘I hope you like chillies,’ Blake said as he took her hand and led her up the thickly carpeted stairs to the top floor.

  ‘I love chillies. I love all hot spicy food.’

  ‘Good.’

  The top floor was totally devoted to the master suite, consisting of the hugest bedroom Kate had ever seen, a bathroom which looked like a picture she’d once seen of a Roman bathhouse, and a spacious separate sitting-room-cum-study, complete with an enormous flat-screen TV on the wall.

  But it was the wraparound deck which seduced and entranced Kate, with its view way beyond what she’d been picturing. She’d expected a better view of the Hollywood Hills, but when she walked round to the other side the city of Los Angeles lay before her, its many and colourful lights rivalling even those of Sydney on New Year’s Eve. And beyond the city lay the ocean, dark and serene under the night sky.

  ‘I don’t know what to say,’ Kate said, and smiled over at Blake. ‘It’s so gorgeous up here. Your whole home is splendid but, honestly, I could look at this view for ever.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  BLAKE HAD THE sudden urge to tell her that she could do that. All she had to do was marry him.

  Crazy, really. Thank God he hadn’t opened his mouth and said as much. Because he would have regretted it. And she would only have said no.

  He told himself that it wasn’t love compelling him to voice such idiocies. Just a temporary infatuation. And frustration. She was an enchanting creature and a highly desirable one. Give him a few weeks with her in his bed and he would come to his senses.

  ‘So, are you going to stay with me in there?’ he asked, nodding towards his bedroom.

  Her eyes widened a little, but then she smiled. ‘Do you want me to?’

  ‘But of course.’

  ‘I shouldn’t...’ she said, but her eyes were sparkling.

  ‘But you will...’

  ‘Of course.’

  Of course, he thought ruefully as he swept her into his arms and kissed her, his head reminding him that she was still an actress even if she was different. And she was ambitious. If she hadn’t been she wouldn’t be here. Because she didn’t love him. She probably still loved that idiot show pony, with his golden boy looks and sickeningly seductive charm.

  His mouth worked hard to make her forget him—at least for now—and Blake didn’t ease up until he felt her total surrender to the heat of the moment. She was a naturally sensual creature—he’d discovered that during the time they’d spent together in Sydney—and her celibacy over the past few years had made her ripe and ready for his attentions.

  And attend her he would. Every day and every night. He would fill her body and her mind until she was incapable of wanting or even thinking of any other man. And he would spoil her rotten, seducing her with a lifestyle which few women would turn their backs on. And then, when the time was right, he just might ask her to marry him.

  Okay, so it was still a crazy idea. But, crazy or not, the idea refused to be dismissed.

  His mouth gentled on hers whilst his mind began working out how he could persuade her to throw her lot in with him. He reasoned that he could legitimately argue that marriage between people who liked and desired each other had a better chance of succeeding than those marriages entered into out of romantic love. He could point out that they would have a good life together. She would have the good life—a better one than her materialistic sister would have with lover-boy.

  Blake suspected that getting one over Maddie would appeal to Kate. But his all-time winning argument might be that they didn’t have to be married ‘’til death do us part’. If it didn’t work out they could divorce, and Kate could walk away with a very nice settlement.

  When love wasn’t involved there would be no bitterness. And no children, of course. He would never expose a child to such a marriage.

  Thinking about the ‘no children’ aspect forced Blake to accept that Kate would never go for such a proposal. The girl was a romantic of the first order. The best he could hope for was that she would agree to live with him. At least for now.

  For some reason that eluded him Blake felt somewhat disgruntled with this solution to his current obsession with Kate. But it would have to do.

  He lifted his head, satisfied to find that she was breathing heavily and her eyes were glazed.

  ‘Sorry, sweetheart,’ he said, and touched a tender fingertip to her softly swollen lips. ‘As much as I would like to continue, Juanita will be upset if we let her food over-cook.’

  Which was a lie, Juanita having informed Blake earlier in the day that their entrée and dessert were pre-prepared and cold, with a main course that would not take long to cook. But it was better than telling Kate the truth; that he was so hard for her he might not last if he went ahead and had sex with her right at this moment.

  ‘Well, we can’t have that, can we?’ Kate said, her eyes clearing. ‘She’s much too nice to upset.’

  Blake liked it that Kate liked his housekeeper. And Juanita seemed genuinely to like Kate back. She fussed over their meal, returning often to the table to see that everything was okay. Which it was. Juanita was a brilliant cook. Her guacamole was second to none, as were all her other Mexican and Spanish-inspired dishes.

  Not that Blake ate at home all that often. He networked over lunches and dinners, both at fashionable restaurants and at the various golf clubs he frequented. When working in his office he often skipped lunch entirely, living only on coffee. Today he’d been too busy to eat much, so he was appreciative of the three-course meal—especially the seafood paella which was followed by his favourite dessert: fried ice-cream, which had a delicious coconut and cinnamon flavour.

  Kate, he noted, ate everything as well—a lovely change from most women in Hollywood who hardly ate at all.

  ‘If you keep feeding me gorgeous food like this, Juanita,’ Kate complimented her over coffee, ‘I’m going to put on weight.’

  ‘You are not the type to get fat,’ Juanita replied. ‘Not like me.’

  Juanita was an attractive woman, with wavy black hair and flashing brown eyes. She was, however, pleasantly plump.

  ‘You are not fat,’ Kate said.

  Juanita smiled. ‘And you are a lovely girl. Australians are very nice people, I think. Or most of them are. I am not so keen on that fair-haired actor who comes here sometimes. You know the one I mean, Blake?’

  ‘Indeed I do.’

  ‘He is rude to me. He has no respect.’

  Blake frowned. ‘I didn’t know that. What does he say or do that’s rude?’

  She scowled. ‘He is clever, that one. He waits until you are out of the room... It is not what he says so much. It is the way he looks at me—like I am beneath him because I am Mexican.’

  Blake decided then and there that Lachlan would never enter his house again. Ne
ither would he contract him for any more movies. It was time their relationship—such as it was—was at an end. And if at the back of his mind he knew this decision was all about Kate, he steadfastly ignored it.

  ‘I’m sorry, Juanita,’ he apologised. ‘You won’t have to put up with that ever again. He won’t be back.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Kate asked in shocked tones once Juanita was out of earshot.

  Blake shrugged, then picked up his coffee cup. ‘It’s time Lachlan and I parted company. Aside from the lies he told you about me at the wedding, he’s become too big for his boots. And, like I told you at the wedding, he’s not that good an actor. He suits a certain type of part but he has no versatility. I want to move on from making romantic comedies. I have a hankering for some more serious movies—like the one I’ve offered you.’

  ‘Do you think that’s wise?’ Kate asked, frowning. ‘You made your name with those movies starring Lachlan. The Boy from The Bush has an enormous cult following.’

  Blake tried not to react badly to her remarks, but found it impossible. ‘Yes—silly female fans who think a handsome face, a good body and a dazzling smile is the be-all and end-all.’

  He knew immediately that he had hurt her feelings. Her face told the story. Her face told him lots of stories—none of which he wanted to hear.

  ‘I think you’re wrong,’ she defended, her cheeks flushing. ‘Lachlan might not be Laurence Olivier, but he does have some talent. And star quality. I know he’s vain and shallow, but I dare say lots of other movie stars are as well. Claudia Jay for one,’ she added, with a curl of her top lip.

  ‘True,’ he conceded. ‘Okay,’ Blake went on, finding an apologetic smile with difficulty, ‘he’s not as bad as I’m making out. I’ll admit that. But I don’t like racists. Or philanderers.’

  ‘Then perhaps you’re in the wrong business,’ Kate pointed out tartly. ‘Hollywood is hardly renowned for treating minorities fairly. Or for its stars being faithful.’

  Wow, Blake thought. That’s telling me.

  Kate might look and act quiet at times, but she knew how to voice an opinion. And, whilst it irked him that she might be defending Lachlan because she still had feelings for him, she was speaking a whole lot of truth.