An Unlikely Bride for the Billionaire

by Michelle Douglas

  Was it really all for Carla’s benefit?

  Do you think he’s doing it for your benefit? Do you really think he could be interested in you?

  It was a ludicrous notion—utter wishful thinking. They’d set their ground rules. Dylan wasn’t any more interested in a relationship than she was, and a fling was out of the question. But the wisdom of that reasoning didn’t dissipate the heat building between them. It didn’t quash the thrill that raced through her whenever she heard his voice. It didn’t stop her from looking forward to seeing him this afternoon.

  She bit into her sandwich. Since when had the prospect of a meeting become more attractive than tromping along solitary paths with loppers and a pair of secateurs?

  She had to be careful around Dylan. Very careful. She couldn’t go falling for his charm. Never again would she be a man’s sap, his puppet. Not even one as alluring and attractive as Dylan. She’d sworn never to travel that particular path again.

  Couldn’t you just kiss him once anyway? Just to see?

  The illicit thought came out of left field. She stiffened. No, she could not!

  No way was she kissing Dylan. Any kissing was absolutely and utterly out of the question. That way led to the slippery slope of lost good intentions and foolish, deceitful dreams. She wasn’t descending that slope again. She had no intention of falling into the pit that crouched at its bottom.

  So...that’s a no, then?

  A definite no!

  She wrapped up what was left of her sandwich and tossed it into a nearby bin. A glance at her watch told her she could manage an hour’s worth of path maintenance before she had to get back to meet with Dylan and his photographer. Wrestling with overgrown native flora sounded exactly what she needed.

  * * *

  Neither the exercise nor Mia’s resolution to resist Dylan’s appeal stopped her every sense from firing to life the moment she clapped eyes on him that afternoon. It made her want to groan in despair.

  No despair! She’d only need despair if she gave in to her attraction—if she handed her heart to him on a platter and became his willing slave. The attraction part of the equation was utterly normal. She’d defy any woman to look at Dylan and not appreciate him as the handsomest beast she’d ever laid eyes on.

  Not that he was a beast. Not when he moved towards her, hand outstretched, a smile of delight on his face at seeing her. Then he was an utter sweetheart.

  She couldn’t stop herself from smiling back.

  It’s polite to smile.

  Polite or not, she couldn’t help it.

  He kissed her cheek, his warm male scent raising gooseflesh on her arms.

  ‘Mia...’ He ushered her towards the other man. ‘I’d like you to meet Felipe Fellini.’

  She shook the photographer’s hand. ‘I’ve heard a lot about you, Mr Fellini.’

  ‘Yes, yes, it is inevitable. Now this...’ He gestured to encompass the lily pond and its surrounds. ‘You must tell me that you have something better, something more original for me to work with than this.’

  He strutted through the area in a coat embroidered with wild, colourful poppies, flinging his arms out in exaggerated disappointment while speaking in an affected American-Italian accent.

  Mia stared at him, utterly flummoxed. Never, in all of her twenty-five years, had she ever come across someone like Felipe Fellini!

  She moistened her lips. ‘I...uh...you don’t like it?’

  ‘Ugh, darling! You do? I mean, look at it!’ He pointed at the pond, the grass, a tree.

  Behind Felipe’s back, Dylan started to laugh silently. Mia had to choke back her answering mirth. ‘I... I can’t say as I’ve ever really thought about it.’

  He swatted a hand in her direction. ‘That’s because you’re not an artiste. My sensitivities are honed to within an inch of their lives, darling.’

  It should have been dismissive, but the words held a friendly edge and she suddenly realised he was having the time of his life.

  She planted her hands on her hips. ‘What’s wrong with it?’

  ‘It’s a cliché. An utter cliché.’

  ‘But isn’t that what a wedding is all about?’

  The question slipped out before she could censor it. She wished it back the moment both men spun to face her—Felipe with his hands up to cover his mouth as if utterly scandalised, Dylan contemplating her with those deep blue eyes, his delectable lips pursed.

  ‘Dylan, darling, it appears I’ve met a creature I never thought existed—a truly unromantic woman.’

  Dylan folded his arms, nudging the other man with his shoulder. ‘I saw her first.’

  Felipe spluttered with laughter. ‘Darling, I’m not a ladies’ man—but if I were...you’d be in trouble. I’d have her eating out of my hand in no time.’

  Mia started to laugh. She couldn’t help it. Felipe, it appeared, enjoyed flirting and games every bit as much as Dylan.

  ‘Come along, you unromantic girl.’ Felipe draped an arm across her shoulders with a smirk in Dylan’s direction. ‘Show me something worthy of my talents.’

  Dylan fell in behind them with a good-natured grin. Mia led them to the utility she’d parked further down the track. One hundred and eighty hectares was a lot of ground to cover. They wouldn’t manage it all on foot before dark.

  Felipe discounted the first two spots Mia showed him—a forest glade of wattle, with low overhanging branches, and a pocket of rainforest complete with a tiny trickling stream.

  ‘Clichéd?’ she asked.

  ‘Totally.’

  ‘You don’t know what you want, but you’ll know it when you see it, right?’

  Dylan’s chuckle from the back seat filled the interior of the car, warming Mia’s fingers and toes.

  ‘I’ll have none of your cheek, thank you, Dylan Fairweather. You, sir, are an uncultured and coarse Philistine.’ He sniffed. ‘I understand you have a Gilmore on your wall.’

  For a moment Dylan’s eyes met Mia’s in the rear-vision mirror. ‘You’re welcome to come and admire it any time you like, Felipe.’

  ‘Pah!’

  At Mia’s raised eyebrow, Dylan added, ‘Jason Gilmore—like Felipe, here—is a world-class photographer.’

  Felipe gave a disbelieving snort and Mia found herself grinning, Dylan and Felipe’s high spirits momentarily rubbing off onto her.

  ‘I’ve never heard of Jason Gilmore, but I’ve heard of Felipe. So I’m not sure this Mr Gilmore can be all that good. He certainly can’t be in the same class as Felipe.’

  Felipe reached out and clasped the hand she had on the steering wheel, pressing his other to his heart. ‘I love this girl.’

  In the next instant he almost gave her a heart attack.

  ‘Stop!’ he screeched.

  She slammed on the brakes, and even though they weren’t going fast gravel still kicked up around them from the unsealed road. Before she could ask Felipe what was wrong, he was out of the car and moving with remarkable agility through the neighbouring strip of bush.

  She glanced at Dylan in wordless enquiry.

  He shook his head. ‘I have no idea. But I suspect we should follow him.’

  ‘This!’ Felipe declared when they reached him.

  Mia stared. ‘It’s a fallen tree.’

  He seized her by the shoulders and propelled her to the tree, ordered her to straddle it. Next he forced Dylan to straddle it as well, facing her. Mia straightened and folded her arms, frowning at the photographer.

  ‘Why do you frown at me?’ He glared at Dylan. ‘Why does she frown at me? Make her stop.’

  ‘Uh... Mia...?’

  ‘I can see that you—’ she pointed a finger at Felipe ‘—will have no regard for Carla’s dress.’

  ‘Pah! This is art. If Carl
a wants art then she will need to make sacrifices. Now, do as I say and lean in towards each other.’

  Whipping out his camera, he motioned with his hands for them to move closer together.

  He heaved an exaggerated sigh. ‘As if you’re about to kiss. Mia, darling, I know you don’t have a romantic bone in your delightful body, but you have a pulse, and you have to admit that your fellow model is very pretty. I need to capture the light and the landscape. Art is work.’

  She glanced at Dylan to see if he’d taken Felipe’s ‘pretty’ remark as a slight on his masculinity. She found him grinning.

  He winked at her. ‘You heard what the man said.’ And then he puckered up in such an exaggerated way that any threat inherent in the situation was immediately removed. She puckered up too.

  With the odd, ‘Tsk!’ as if in disapproval of their antics, Felipe set about taking photographs.

  The flash made Mia wince.

  ‘Headache?’ Dylan asked.

  ‘I just don’t like having my photo taken.’ The last time a flash had gone off in her face had been when she’d been led from the courthouse...in handcuffs. It wasn’t a memory she relished.

  As if he could sense her ambivalence, Dylan leapt to his feet.

  ‘Darling!’ Felipe spluttered. ‘I—’

  ‘You’ll have to make do with just me as a model, Master Fellini. Run!’ he muttered out of the corner of his mouth to Mia.

  So she did. She shot to her feet and all but sprinted away, to stand behind and to one side of Felipe, in amongst the bracken fern.

  She watched the two men’s antics with growing enjoyment. Felipe barked out orders and Dylan promptly, if somewhat exaggeratedly, carried them out. He flirted with the camera without a scrap of self-consciousness. Felipe, in turn, flirted outrageously back.

  Double entendres flew through the air until Mia found herself doubled up with laughter. It was just so much fun watching Dylan!

  Without warning, Felipe turned and snapped a shot of her.

  She blinked, sobering in an instant.

  Dylan was immediately puffed up, all protective.

  Felipe beamed as he stared down at his camera. ‘Perfect!’

  CHAPTER SIX

  MIA SWALLOWED. ‘WHAT do you mean, perfect?’

  He gestured her over. ‘Come and see.’

  She didn’t want to see. She wanted to run away to hack and slash hiking trails, to fill in potholes and be away from people with their unspoken questions and flashing cameras.

  Dylan’s not like that.

  Dylan was the worst of the lot!

  She forced reluctant feet over to where Felipe stood with his camera held out to her. Dylan moved across too, and she sensed the tension in his shoulders, in the set of his spine.

  ‘You said you just wanted to test the light—to get a sense of scale and a feel for the locations, figure out how to make them work for you.’

  ‘Darling, I’m an artiste. My mind, my eyes, my brain...they’re always searching for the perfect shot.’

  She went to take the camera from him, but he shook his head.

  ‘Just look.’

  She leaned in to look at the display on the screen. Her gut clenched up tight at what she saw.

  Dylan leaned over her right shoulder. ‘Holy cow...’

  In the photograph, Mia stood knee-high in bracken fern, bent at the waist with her head thrown back, her mouth wide with laughter and her eyes crinkled and dancing. The entire picture rippled with laughter. She didn’t know how Felipe had managed it, but when she stared at the photo she could feel delight wrap around her and lift her up.

  He’d made her look beautiful.

  She swallowed and straightened, bumping into Dylan. She moved away with a murmured apology.

  ‘You see what I mean?’ Felipe demanded. ‘The picture is perfect.’

  Her temples started to throb. ‘It’s a lie.’

  ‘Art doesn’t lie, darling.’

  She was aware of how closely Dylan watched her, of how darkly his eyes throbbed as they moved between the image of her on the camera and the flesh and blood her. She found him just as disturbing as Felipe’s photograph.

  ‘Will you sign a release form, darling, allowing me to use that photograph in my next exhibition? This is precisely what I need.’

  Her mouth dried. She had a plan. That plan was to remain in the background. This wasn’t remaining in the background.

  Her hands curled into fists. ‘No.’

  Felipe switched the cameral off with a sniff. ‘That photograph could be the centrepiece of my next exhibition. And, darling, I don’t actually need your permission. I was only being polite. This is a public place. As such, I’m free to take photographs of anything I please.’

  Instinct told her that pleading with him would do no good. Her stomach started to churn.

  ‘How much would a photograph like that sell for?’

  She’d been aware of Dylan growing taller and sterner beside her. She glanced up and realised he’d transformed into full warrior mode. A pulse started up in her throat, and a vicarious thrill took hold of her veins even as she bit back a groan.

  Felipe waved him away. ‘It’s impossible to put a price on a photograph like that. I have no intention of selling it.’

  ‘Sell it to me now.’

  Dylan named a sum that had her stomach lurching.

  ‘No!’ She swung round to him and shook her head. ‘Don’t even think about it. That’s a ludicrous amount of money for a stupid photograph.’

  He planted his hands on his hips. ‘It’s obvious you don’t want it shown in a public exhibition. Let me buy it.’

  She folded her arms to hide how much her hands shook. ‘I don’t want it hanging on your wall either.’

  Why would he pay such a huge sum for a photograph of her anyway?

  Because he cares?

  She pushed that thought away. She didn’t want him to care. She hadn’t asked him to care!

  As if he’d read that thought in her face, Dylan thrust out his jaw, his eyes glittering. ‘Felipe, sell me the photo.’

  She stabbed a finger at the photographer. ‘You’ll do nothing of the sort.’

  Felipe turned to Dylan, hands raised. ‘You heard what the lady said, darling.’

  Dylan glowered—first at her and then at the photographer. ‘Okay, let me make myself crystal-clear. If that photograph is ever displayed publicly I’ll bring the biggest lawsuit you’ve ever seen crashing down on your head.’

  Felipe merely smiled. ‘The publicity will be delicious!’

  Mia grabbed Dylan’s arm and shook it, but her agitation barely seemed to register. It was as useless as rattling iron bars.

  ‘You will do absolutely nothing of the sort!’ she said.

  His brows drew down low over his eyes, his entire mien darkening. ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because you don’t own me. You don’t get to make decisions for me.’ She swung to Felipe. ‘You don’t own me either. In a just world you wouldn’t get to make such a decision either.’

  Nobody said anything for a moment.

  ‘Mia, darling...’

  She didn’t want to hear Felipe’s excuses and justifications. She turned towards the car. ‘I thought art was supposed to make the world a better place, not a worse one. I think it’s time we headed back.’

  ‘Darling!’

  She turned to find Felipe removing the memory card from the camera. He took her hand and closed her fingers over it. ‘It’s yours. I’m sorry.’

  Relief almost made her stagger. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered, slipping it into her top pocket and fastening the button. She tried to lighten the mood. ‘I expect for an artiste like yourself great photos are a dime a dozen.’

 
; ‘No, darling, they’re not,’ he said, climbing into the car.

  All the while she was aware of the brooding way Dylan watched her, of the stiff movements of his body, betraying...anger? It made her heart drum hard against her ribs.

  ‘That photograph is truly unique, but I could not exhibit it without your blessing. I do not wish anyone to feel diminished by my art.’

  She nodded. Felipe was a good man. So was Dylan. She was surrounded by people she didn’t deserve.

  ‘But if you should have a change of heart...ever change your mind...’ He slipped a business card into her hand.

  She nodded. ‘You’ll be the first to know.’

  She didn’t add that a change of heart was highly unlikely. She had a feeling he already knew that.

  She glanced in the rear-vision mirror to find Dylan staring at her, his gaze dark and brooding. She had no idea what he was thinking...or what he must think of her. Her pulse sped up again. Did he hate her after what she’d said?

  She didn’t want him to hate her.

  She had a feeling, though, that it would be better for both of them if he did.

  * * *

  Dylan showed up at her cottage that night.

  Without a word she ushered him in, wondering at her own lack of surprise at seeing him.

  ‘I wanted to discuss what happened this afternoon,’ he said without preamble.

  ‘I don’t see that there’s much to discuss.’ She turned towards the kitchen. ‘Can I get you something to drink—tea or coffee? I have some light beer if you’d rather.’

  ‘No, thank you.’

  Good. They could keep this quick, then. She grabbed some water for herself and motioned him to the sofa, taking a seat at the table.

  Dylan didn’t sit. He stood in the middle of the room, arms folded, and glared at her.

  She heaved a sigh. ‘I’m sorry, Dylan, but I’m not a mind-reader. What exactly did you want to discuss?’