An Unlikely Bride for the Billionaire

by Michelle Douglas

  She dragged her hands into her lap. ‘I’m sorry, Dylan.’

  He shook himself. ‘It’s true that I’m attracted to you, but you’ve just pointed out how very differently we want to live our lives—high-profile, low-profile. In the real world, that continual push and pull would make us miserable.’

  Mia had to look away, but she nodded to let him know that she agreed. It didn’t stop her heart from shrivelling to the size of a gum nut.

  ‘Your no-dating rule obviously rules out a fling?’

  ‘It does.’ Anything else would be a disaster.

  ‘So these are our ground rules. With those firmly in place we shouldn’t have any misunderstandings or false hopes, right? We just need to remember the reasons why we’re not dating at the moment, why we’re not looking for a relationship, and that’ll keep us safe.’

  She guessed so.

  He drummed his fingers on the picnic table. ‘It occurs to me that I haven’t given you much incentive to help me out. I’m a selfish brute.’

  His consideration for Carla proved that was a lie.

  ‘I’ve no intention of taking advantage of you. I’m fully prepared to pay you for your time.’

  She flinched at his words, throwing an arm up to ward them off. ‘I don’t want your money, Dylan.’

  What kind of person did he think she was?

  A thief!

  She dragged in a breath. ‘I went to jail for fraud. Do you think I’d accept money under dubious circumstances again?’

  He swore at whatever he saw in her face. ‘I’m sorry—that was incredibly insensitive. I didn’t mean I thought you could be bought. I just meant it’s perfectly reasonable for you to be financially compensated for your time.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘It doesn’t have to be dubious. I’d have a contract drawn up so there wasn’t a hint of illegality about it.’

  His earnestness made the earlier sting fade, but... ‘Tell that to the judge.’

  He looked stricken for a moment—until he realised she was joking.

  ‘No money changes hands between us,’ she said.

  He looked as if he wanted to keep arguing with her, but finally he nodded. ‘Okay.’

  She let out a pent-up breath.

  ‘So, Mia, what I need to know is...what do you want? You help me. I help you.’

  He’d already saved her job. She hated to admit it, but that made her beholden to him. She rubbed her forehead. Besides, if Carla was in danger of being controlled, dominated, bullied... She swallowed, remembering Johnnie Peters and all he’d convinced her to do. She remembered how she’d sold her soul to a man who’d used her for his own ends and then thrown her away. If Carla were in danger, this would be a way for Mia to start making amends—finding redemption—for the mistakes of the past.

  The thought made her stomach churn. She didn’t want to do this.

  What? You think redemption is easy? You think it’s supposed to be a picnic? It should be hard. You should suffer.

  She brushed a hand across her eyes, utterly weary with herself.

  ‘What do you want, Mia.’

  She wanted to keep her job. Yesterday she’d have trusted him with that piece of information. Today— She glanced across at him. Today she wasn’t convinced that he wouldn’t use it against her as a weapon to force her co-operation.

  Who are you kidding? You already know you’re going to help him. No force necessary.

  But it would be unwise of her to forget that beneath the smiling charm Dylan had a warrior’s heart. And warriors could be utterly ruthless.

  She forced her mind off Dylan and to her own situation. He’d ensured her job was safe for the moment...and for the next nine months until Carla’s wedding took place. She’d have less than six months left on her traineeship then. Surely she could avoid Gordon’s notice in that time? Hopefully he’d be busy with council elections.

  If Carla’s wedding takes place.

  ‘There has to be something you want,’ Dylan persisted, pushing a chocolate bar across to her.

  What did she want? One thing came immediately to mind.

  She picked up the bar of chocolate and twirled it around. ‘Carla’s wedding is going to be a big deal, right?’

  ‘A huge deal. If it goes ahead.’

  She glanced at him. ‘If Thierry does turn out to be your worst nightmare, but Carla still insists on marrying him, will you still go ahead and give her the wedding she’s always dreamed of?’

  A muscle worked in his jaw. ‘Yes.’

  She couldn’t explain why, but that eased some of the tightness in her shoulders. She stared down at the chocolate bar. ‘So—considering this low profile of mine—when you and your people start distributing press releases and giving media interviews about the wedding, I’d like you to give the credit to Plum Pines and Nora and FWE without mentioning my name at all.’

  His brows drew down over his eyes. ‘But that’s unfair! Credit should go where it’s due. Being associated with Carla’s wedding could open doors for you.’

  Or it could bring her past and the scandal to the front pages of the gossip rags. ‘You asked me what I wanted. I’m simply telling you.’

  He swung back to scowl at the lily pond. ‘I don’t like it. It goes against the grain. But if it’s what you really want, then consider it done.’

  She closed her eyes. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘But now you have to tell me something else that you want, because I truly feel as if I’m taking utter advantage of you.’

  She glanced up to find him glaring at her. For some reason his outrage made her want to smile.

  ‘What do I want?’ she shrugged. ‘I want to be out on the eastern boundary, helping with the weed eradication programme.’

  * * *

  Dylan stared at Mia and his heart thumped at the wistful expression that flitted across her face. He had a feeling that she didn’t have a whole lot of fun in her life. Not if weed extermination topped the list of her wants.

  If she agreed to his fake dating plan he resolved to make sure she had fun too. It would be the least he could do. There might be a lot of things he wasn’t good at, but when it came to fun he was a grandmaster.

  He rose. ‘Okay, let’s go and do that, then.’

  ‘We?’ She choked on her surprise.

  He sat again, suddenly unsure. ‘You’d prefer to go on your own?’

  ‘Oh, it’s not that. I... It’s just...’

  He could almost see the thoughts racing across her face. It’s hard work, dirty work, menial work. ‘You don’t think I’m up to it, do you?’

  ‘It’s not that either—although it is hard work.’ She leaned towards him, a frown in her eyes. ‘Dylan, you run a world-class entertainment company. I’m quite sure you have better things to do with your time. I expect you’re a very busy man.’

  He shook his head. ‘I’m on leave.’ He’d taken it the moment Carla had announced her engagement. ‘I have capable staff.’

  And he couldn’t think of anything he’d rather do at the moment than lighten Mia’s load.

  Inspiration hit him. ‘Listen to this for a plan. If I become a volunteer here that might encourage Carla to become a volunteer too. If you get to work with her and build up a friendship then the fake dating stuff will be easier.’

  Her frown cleared. ‘There might even be no need for fake dating stuff.’

  Maybe. Maybe not. He couldn’t explain it, but the thought of fake dating Mia fired him to life in a way nothing else had in a long time. He’d relish the chance to find out what really make her tick.

  ‘We need a cover story.’ He rubbed his hands together. ‘I can tell Carla that you piqued my interest—hence the reason I became a volunteer—and then we worked together, discovered we liked each other.
..and things have gone on from there.’

  She screwed up her nose. ‘I guess that could work...’

  He grinned at her. ‘Of course it’ll work.’

  She suddenly thrust out her jaw. ‘I’m not going to spy on Carla for you.’

  ‘I’m not asking you to. I’m asking you to become her friend.’

  ‘If this works—if Carla decides she wants to be friends—then I mean to be a proper friend to her. And if that clashes with your agenda—’

  He reached over and seized her hand, brought her wrist to his lips. Her eyes widened and her pulse jumped beneath his touch. A growing hunger roared through him. He wanted to put his tongue against that pulse point and kiss his way along her arm until he reached her mouth.

  As if she’d read that thought in his face she reclaimed her hand. He forced himself to focus on the conversation, rather than her intriguing scent.

  ‘I’m asking nothing more than that you be Carla’s friend.’

  The way her gaze darted away betrayed her assumed composure. ‘That’s okay, then. As long as we’re on the same page.’

  ‘The same page’ meant no fling, no relationship...no kissing. He had to keep things simple between them. There was too much at stake.

  ‘Definitely on the same page,’ he assured her.

  Starting something with Mia was out of the question. She wouldn’t last the distance any more than Caitlin had. His whole way of life was anathema to her.

  A fist reached inside his gut and squeezed. Caitlin had left him at the absolute lowest point in his life. The devastation of losing his parents and her had... It had almost annihilated him. The shock of it still rebounded in his soul. The only thing that had kept him going was Carla, and the knowledge that she’d needed him. He’d found his feet. Eventually. He wasn’t going to have them cut out from under him again by repeating the same mistakes.

  He turned to find Mia halfway through a sentence.

  ‘... I mean, we can give you overalls, but that’s not going to really help, is it?’

  She was worried he’d ruin his clothes? ‘I have my workout gear in the car.’

  She folded her arms. ‘Along with a four-hundred-dollar pair of trainers, no doubt? I don’t want to be held responsible for wrecking those.’

  He had no idea how much his trainers had cost. But she was probably right. ‘Couldn’t you rustle me up a pair of boots?’

  She gave a reluctant shrug. ‘Maybe. Are you sure you want to do this?’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘We’ll need to register you as a volunteer. There’ll be forms to fill out and signatures required to ensure you’re covered by the Plum Pines insurance.’

  The more she tried to put him off, the more determined he became.

  He rose with a decisive clap of his hands. ‘Then let’s get to it.’

  She rose too, shaking her head. ‘Don’t say you weren’t warned.

  * * *

  ‘What’s going on here?’ Gordon boomed, coming into the office just as Dylan emerged from the change room wearing the overalls and boots that Mia had found for him.

  She sat nearby, already dressed for an afternoon of hard work.

  She shot to her feet. ‘Dylan—’

  ‘Mr Fairweather,’ Gordon corrected with a pointed glare.

  ‘Dylan,’ Dylan confirmed, deciding it would be just as satisfying to punch Gordon on the end of his bulbous nose as it would Thierry. He glanced at Mia and wondered when he’d become so bloodthirsty. ‘I’ve decided to register as a volunteer.’ He shoved his shoulders back. ‘I want to see first-hand what my hundred-thousand-dollar donation will be subsidising.’

  Gordon’s jowls worked for a moment. ‘It’s very generous of you to give both your money and your time to Plum Pines...’

  Behind Gordon’s back, Mia gestured that they should leave. Dylan shrugged himself into full supercilious mode and deigned to nod in the other man’s direction.

  ‘Good afternoon, Gordon.’

  ‘Good afternoon, Mr Fairweather.’

  Dylan didn’t invite Gordon to call him by his Christian name—just strode out through the door that Mia held open for him.

  Behind him he heard Gordon mutter to the receptionist, ‘Bloody trust fund babies,’ before the door closed behind them.

  Mia grinned as she strode along beside him. ‘I think he likes you.’

  He glanced at her grin and then threw his head back and roared.

  * * *

  ‘What on earth...?’

  The moment Dylan rounded the side of their family home—affectionately dubbed ‘The Palace’—Carla shot to her feet. Behind her a vista of blue sea and blue sky stretched to the horizon. It was a view he never tired of.

  ‘Dylan, what on earth have you been doing? You’re so...dirty! Filthy dirty. Obscenely dirty.’

  He grinned. ‘I signed up as a volunteer at Plum Pines. That was an inspired idea of yours, by the way. The place is amazing.’

  She started to laugh, settling back into the plump cushions of the outdoor sofa. ‘I have a feeling it’s a certain Plum Pines employee rather than a newfound enthusiasm for conservation that has you truly inspired.’

  He sobered. What on earth...? That was supposed to come as a surprise.

  He managed a shrug. ‘I like her.’

  ‘I can tell.’

  How could she tell?

  She couldn’t tell!

  Romance had addled Carla’s brain, that was all. She wanted everyone travelling on the same delirious cloud as she. It made her see romance where none existed. But he could work that to his advantage.

  ‘I’m not sure she likes me.’

  ‘And you think by becoming a volunteer it’ll make her look upon you with a friendlier eye?’

  ‘Along with my newfound enthusiasm for weed eradication.’

  Carla laughed—a delightful sound that gladdened his heart. There’d been a time when he’d wondered if he’d ever hear her laugh again.

  ‘She won’t take any of your nonsense, you know.’

  He eyed his sister carefully. ‘Would it bug you if I asked her out?’

  ‘Not at all.’ She studied her fingernails. ‘If you’ll promise me one thing.’

  ‘Name it.’

  ‘That you won’t judge Thierry too harshly based on today’s events. He wasn’t at his best. He’s very different from us, Dylan, but I love him.’ She turned a pleading gaze on him. ‘Please?’

  He bit back a sigh. ‘Okay.’

  ‘Thank you!’

  He widened his stance. ‘But I want to get to know him better before you two tie the knot.’

  ‘That can be arranged.’ Her smile widened. ‘We can double date!’

  Perfect.

  ‘Perhaps,’ he said, not wanting to appear too eager to share Mia with anyone else. ‘Are you going to let him talk you out of volunteering?’

  ‘Not a chance.’ She laughed. ‘I’m signing up first thing tomorrow.’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  MIA STARED INTO the mirror and rubbed a hand across her chest in an effort to soothe her racing heart.

  You look fine.

  Dylan had assured her that tonight’s date—fakedate—was casual, not dressy. They were meeting Carla and Thierry at some trendy burger joint for dinner and then going on to a movie.

  She really needed to go shopping for some new clothes. She’d not bothered much with her appearance since getting out of jail. She’d avoided pretty things, bright colours, shunning anything that might draw attention.

  She glanced back at the mirror. Her jeans and pale blue linen shirt were appropriately casual, if somewhat bland. The outfit wouldn’t embarrass her. More to the point, it wouldn’t embarrass Dylan. On impulse she threaded
a pair of silver hoops through her ears.

  For the last five days Dylan had spent every morning at Plum Pines, helping her dig out weeds. And for the entire time he’d remained unfailingly cheerful and good-natured. He’d never once made her feel as if he was counting down the hours until he’d met his side of the bargain.

  He continued to flirt outrageously—not just with her but with all the other female volunteers too. It made her feel safe.

  She shook her head at that thought. She had to remain vigilant, make sure she didn’t become too comfortable around him.

  She swung away from the mirror, tired of her reflection. The fact remained that she had limited wardrobe options and this was the best that she could muster. Brooding about it was pointless. Besides, she had more important things to worry about.

  Like what on earth was she going to add to the conversation tonight?

  She strode into her tiny living room and dropped to the sofa. She needed to come up with five topics of conversation. She glanced at the clock. Fast! Dylan would be here to collect her in fifteen minutes. She chewed on her bottom lip. No matter how much she might want to, she couldn’t sit through dinner without saying anything. That wouldn’t be keeping her end of the deal.

  Dear God! What to talk about, though? Think!

  A knock sounded on the door.

  Her gaze flew to the clock. He was early. And she hadn’t come up with even one topic of conversation!

  * * *

  Dylan hated to admit it, but he couldn’t wait to catch a glimpse of Mia out of uniform. Not that he had anything against her uniform, but there was only so much khaki cotton twill a man could take.

  In some deep hidden part of himself lurked a male fantasy he should no doubt be ashamed of, but... He’d love for Mia to answer the door in a short skirt and sky-high heels. So predictable! He had a feeling, though, that Mia probably didn’t own either.

  Still, he’d make do with jeans and a nice pair of ballet flats. That would be nice. Normal. And maybe away from work she’d start to relax some of that fierce guard of hers.