Hired by the Brooding Billionaire

by Kandy Shepherd

  Mrs Grant looked accusingly at Declan. ‘You didn’t tell me the gardener who is doing such wonderful work at this place was a beautiful young woman.’

  Because he doesn’t recognise me as such, Shelley thought with a pang.

  * * *

  Maybe because I wanted to keep her to myself, Declan thought. He was finding it difficult to think straight he was so knocked out by the sight of Shelley in a short, tight blue dress that accentuated every curve and showed off her sensational legs. Legs that went on for ever.

  Shelley turned slightly to better face his mother. Declan gasped in admiration, which he quickly had to disguise as a cough. The dress was backless and revealed all of the toned, smooth perfection of her back before swooping so low it was practically indecent. The fabric was softly shaped and had some kind of central seam in it so it clung intimately to the gorgeous curves of her bottom.

  Was she wearing underwear? He had to swallow very hard. And keep his hands fisted by his sides to stop him from reaching out to her and pulling her close to find out.

  If his mother weren’t here, he might have done just that.

  His mother addressed Shelley. ‘I’m sorry I blocked your access in the driveway. I had no idea who owned the old workhorse of a 4x4.’

  ‘It is old but it serves me well and I can keep all my equipment safely in it,’ Shelley said.

  Declan sensed the defensive note in Shelley’s voice and in turn felt immediately protective of her—he did not want his mother criticising her in any way.

  But his mother was smiling. ‘Shelley, of course you need a tough car in your line of work. You’re doing an absolutely amazing job on the garden. Who knew that something so superb was hiding under all that mess?’

  ‘Thank you,’ Shelley said.

  But Declan could sense the anxiety underlying her politeness. Then she glanced up at the big grandfather clock standing beneath the stairs.

  ‘Mother, Shelley has to get going somewhere,’ he said. ‘I think she needs you to move your car right now.’

  Shelley shot him a grateful look. ‘I don’t mean to be rude, Mrs Grant, but I’m on my way to my sister’s engagement party so I can’t be late.’

  ‘Skip the Mrs Grant, call me Judith,’ his mother said, much to Declan’s surprise. ‘I’ll go get my keys and move the car for you.’

  Then his mother paused and her eyes narrowed. She snapped her fingers. ‘I’ve got a better idea,’ she said. ‘You can’t drive a battered old 4x4 wearing that gorgeous dress and looking like you just stepped off a catwalk.’

  His mother directed her gaze back to him. ‘Declan, let Shelley drive one of your sports cars. Heaven knows, you’ve got a garage full of them.’

  Declan automatically went to say no. Why would he let anyone drive one of his valuable European sports cars? But this wasn’t just anyone. This was Shelley. And her eyes were lit with a gleam of excitement. Of course she would be the type of woman who would love to get behind the wheel of a performance car.

  He took a deep breath. ‘Good idea, Mother.’

  Shelley did a little jig of excitement in her sky-high heels. ‘Really, Declan, you’d let me drive your car?’

  He rolled his eyes in a pretence of reluctance. ‘There are conditions,’ he said. ‘The car turns into a pumpkin at midnight. You have to have it home by then.’

  Shelley’s eyes widened. ‘Really?’ she said. ‘Not about the pumpkin, I mean. Well, of course, I know you’re making a joke about that. But about the midnight thing. I mean, it’s Lynne’s engagement party and I have to stay to the end. She and Keith are party animals so heaven knows what time they—’

  Declan smiled. ‘Relax. You can bring the car back any time, as long as you drive it carefully—’

  ‘Because it’s so valuable?’

  ‘There is that,’ he said. ‘But it’s a very powerful car and I don’t want you injured either.’ She was way more valuable than any car.

  She smiled. ‘I’m a good driver. I grew up in the country, remember. I was driving around the property when I was twelve, long before I legally got my licence at seventeen. I’ll take extra-special care with your car, I promise.’

  ‘I’m sure if you can drive that beast of a 4x4 of yours you can drive anything.’

  She nodded in acknowledgement of his words, then turned to his mother. ‘Thank you, Judith, for suggesting this. How did you know how much I would love to drive a sports car?’

  ‘A princess can’t drive a pumpkin,’ said his mother.

  Shelley did look like a princess—even more of a princess than Estella—glamorous and enticing. ‘I’ll go get the car key,’ he said.

  When he returned it was to find Shelley laughing at something his mother had said—and his mother laughing too. He didn’t know how he felt about them getting on so well.

  He jangled the keys in front of him. ‘I’ll take you out to the garage and introduce you to the car,’ he said.

  ‘How exciting,’ said Shelley, her eyes gleaming. ‘I can’t wait to see my sister’s face when I drive up in it.’ She turned to his mother. ‘Thank you again, Mrs... I mean, Judith, this is going to be such a treat,’ she said.

  ‘It’s my absolute pleasure,’ said his mother with speculative eyes as she looked from Shelley to Declan and back again. ‘And remember, I’ll be coming over during the week for a guided tour of the garden. With my son’s approval, of course.’

  Shelley flung her shawl around her shoulders as he led her through the connecting door to the garage. He was tempted almost beyond endurance to slide it off her. Her back view was sensational and he would have been more than happy to admire it for longer.

  He stood back and let Shelley enjoy her first sight of the sleek silver sports car that was to be hers for the evening. She was unable to contain her excitement and made throaty little murmurs of pleasure as she walked around the car admiring it from every angle. She actually stroked the bonnet. He couldn’t be jealous of a car.

  ‘I can tell you like it,’ he said.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ she said, her eyes shining, her cheeks flushed.

  ‘The black device opens the garage door,’ he said as he handed her the key ring.

  She stood close by, her high heels bringing her closer to his eye level. Her sweet scent filled his senses. ‘Declan, this is really good of you,’ she said. ‘I hope you didn’t feel pressured into letting me drive the car.’

  ‘I don’t get pressured into doing anything I don’t want to,’ he said hoarsely.

  Their eyes met for a long time. ‘I wish...’ she said wistfully, her voice trailing away.

  ‘You wish what?’

  ‘I wish you could come to the party with me,’ she said. ‘Of course, you could drive your car if...if you were able to come with me.’

  Declan had a sudden, fierce desire to say yes. He sure as hell didn’t want her to go to her sister’s party alone where she would be a magnet for any red-blooded male in the room—he wondered if she had any idea how outrageously sexy she looked. He had the urge to take off his jacket, fling it over her shoulders and tell her she had to keep it on all evening. He wanted her for his eyes only.

  ‘If I could come—and I can’t—you would be driving, not me,’ he said.

  She pulled one of her endearing faces. ‘But, of course, you have your mother with you. Who seems very nice, by the way.’

  Declan sucked in a quick breath. Nice wasn’t the word he would ever use to describe his barracuda barrister mother.

  ‘She’s okay,’ he acknowledged. ‘She insists on bringing her laptop over every few weeks for me to help her with it when I know very well she doesn’t need help.’

  ‘No doubt she wants to see if you’re okay on your own,’ she said. ‘My mother checks in with me at least once every few days.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ he said. He didn’t want to waste time talking about his mother. Not when Shelley’s shawl was slipping off her shoulders again. This time he reached over and took it right off, sliding his
hands down her bare arms. She trembled—from the cold in the garage or his touch?

  ‘One more thing,’ he said.

  ‘About the car?’ she asked, eyes wide.

  ‘About this,’ he said. He kissed her, hard and hungry and demanding—making sure she went to that party branded by his kisses. With a throaty little murmur of surprise and pleasure, she opened to him and met his tongue with hers, tasting, exploring, pressing her body to his—until want for her ignited through him in a flare of need. He broke away from her mouth, pressing hot kisses down her throat, tasting her, breathing in her sweet, arousing scent, sliding his hands to cup the enticing side swell of her breasts.

  She moaned and wrenched herself away from him. ‘Declan. No. Stop. If...if it was anything other than Lynne’s party I wouldn’t go, I’d stay here and we—’

  ‘Don’t say it,’ he groaned. ‘Go. Just go.’

  She stared at him for a long moment, her breasts rising and falling as she struggled to control her breath. ‘I wish... No. I have to go.’ She planted a quick kiss on his mouth and went to step back but he snaked out his arm to tug her back and kiss her again. Only then did he wrest back control of his willpower and release her.

  ‘Whatever time you get home, let me know,’ he said, fighting to regain his breath in great, tearing gasps.

  ‘Even if it’s three in the morning?’ Her lipstick was smeared from his kisses, the pupils of her eyes so dilated he could scarcely see the colour, a pink beard rash around her chin. Good. Those other guys at the party would know she’d been thoroughly kissed and be warned off his woman.

  His woman. When had he allowed himself to think of her as that?

  ‘I’ll be awake and waiting for you,’ he said.

  She slid behind the wheel of his car, as if she drove a high-performance sports vehicle every day, her dress sliding tantalisingly high up on her thighs. She laughed in exhilaration as the car started with a low, throaty roar.

  ‘I am so going to enjoy this,’ she called out to him.

  He watched as she drove his favourite car, which no one else but he had ever driven, out of the garage and into the night, then he slammed his fist on the wall of the garage. He wanted to be with her. But here he was, surrounded by expensive cars in the garage of his multimillion-dollar mansion but cold and alone.

  Only then came the full realisation of the prison he had created for himself.

  * * *

  Declan knew the second he got back in the house, his mother would grill him. She did not disappoint.

  ‘Who is Shelley Fairhill and where did you find her?’ she demanded, getting up from the sofa in the formal living room that was only used on her visits.

  Declan shrugged. ‘She found me,’ he said. ‘She knocked on the door and asked could she help me with the garden.’

  ‘And you didn’t glower and send her on the way?’

  ‘Yes, I did,’ he said, tight-lipped. ‘But she persevered.’ He added glowering to the list of words people used to describe him. Forbidding was still his favourite.

  ‘I would have liked to have been a fly on the wall for that encounter. Did she—?’

  ‘Long story.’

  ‘And one I’m unlikely to hear the details of,’ said his shrewd mother. ‘She’s beautiful, Declan. And obviously very talented at what she does.’

  He nodded. What he felt about Shelley was his own business—he did not want to discuss it with anyone, certainly not his mother.

  ‘Have you even noticed how beautiful Shelley is?’ She put up her hand. ‘Don’t answer that. I saw the way you were looking at her—and the way she was looking at you.’

  ‘What do you mean, the way she was looking at me?’

  His mother laughed. ‘I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that. I haven’t seen you smile so much for...for a long time.’

  ‘You’re imagining things,’ he said stiffly.

  ‘No, I’m not,’ she said. ‘I didn’t get to be where I am without being able to read people. By the way, why was her car parked in your driveway?’

  Reluctantly he replied. ‘Because she’s living in the apartment.’

  ‘Oh,’ said his mother with raised eyebrows.

  ‘Nothing like that,’ he said too hastily. ‘She just needed somewhere to stay.’

  His mother sighed. ‘I believe you. But for your sake I wish it were otherwise. She’s lovely, Declan—warm, open and she has kind eyes. I had a really good feeling about her.’

  Declan gritted his teeth. ‘She’s all that and more,’ he said. ‘But what is it to you?’

  His mother stilled. ‘Despite what you think, I’m desperately concerned about you. Lisa was the best thing that ever happened to you, to the family. But she’s gone, Declan. You’re young. You can’t let yourself just shrivel up and die inside because we lost Lisa. She would never have wanted you to lock yourself away like this.’

  Declan gritted his teeth so hard his jaw ached. ‘You know I—’

  ‘You blame yourself. But it wasn’t your fault. Lisa died of a sudden embolism. Nothing could have predicted it or prevented it. And baby Alice? That precious little girl was just born too soon. You mustn’t let the tragedy of their loss cut you off from happiness in your future.’

  Declan shifted from foot to foot. ‘It’s not like that.’ He had convinced Lisa to get pregnant when she’d wanted to wait and she’d died in childbirth. His fault.

  ‘Isn’t it?’ His mother persevered, much as she must do in court. ‘I know I didn’t love you enough when you were that fiercely intelligent, questioning little boy who had his own agenda from the word go. I didn’t know how to be a mother. I’m doing my best to make up for it. You need love more now than you did when you were that little boy.’

  He shook his head. ‘I don’t want to talk about this.’

  ‘But you must,’ she said. ‘Don’t close yourself off from the possibility of love. I saw how you looked at Shelley. I saw how she looked at you. You deserve love, no matter what you might think.’

  Her voice caught in a tremor and he realised how difficult it was for his mother to be talking to him like this. He also saw how sincere she was.

  ‘I’ll take that on board,’ he said, relenting.

  ‘Whatever you might have thought in the past, whatever mistakes I’ve made, I’m on your side and I always will be. But I don’t want to grow into one of those old women protecting her sad, middle-aged son who never got over his wife’s loss. There’s a beautiful young woman there who might help you move on. Shelley won’t wait for ever, you know. Not a girl who looks like she does.’

  ‘It’s not just the way she looks,’ he muttered. ‘She’s kind, honest, good. So much more than just beautiful.’

  He decided to tell his mother about the new bed of roses Shelley had planted in honour of Lisa and Alice.

  ‘What an incredibly sensitive and inspired thing to do.’ His mother’s voice was choked and she paused to wipe tears from her eyes. ‘The tragedy of it comes rushing back. I wish they were both still with us. I loved Lisa like a daughter. But this Shelley, she’s a rare one, Declan. Don’t let her go. Trust me, it will be like another little death for you if you do.’

  Declan thought about what she’d said long after his mother left to go home. All through the long, lonely evening as he worked on the background of the Estella portrait and waited for the sound of his car bringing Shelley back home.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  SHELLEY RECKONED SHE could have gone home from Lynne’s party with the phone numbers of at least three good-looking, single—or so they said—eligible men. And that wasn’t counting the television producer—she’d actually given him her number after ascertaining he was the real deal.

  There was something to be said about a backless dress. Or maybe it was the reckless confidence that came from being so thoroughly kissed by the man she wanted before she’d sashayed on to the party. The power of pulling up to a party in a sports car probably did something to enhance her desirability to
the male population, too.

  But she didn’t collect any phone numbers. There was only one man who interested her and she was on her way home to him. Well, not technically home to him. He lived in the mansion, she lived in the housekeeper’s apartment and she’d be wise to remember that.

  It was well past midnight when she pulled into the garage—the party was still in full swing but she’d only stayed as late as she did for Lynne’s sake. Before she could think about texting Declan that she was back, the connecting door from the main house opened and he was there. He still wore the same jacket, but his hair was dishevelled as though he had been pushing through it with his fingers as she’d noticed he tended to do. Dark shadows under his eyes indicated he hadn’t slept. His face wore an expression of strained expectancy. Was that for her?

  A surge of desire for him swept through her so powerfully she had to remain seated in the driver’s seat and grip the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles went white and press her knees together hard. Not just sexual desire—although there was certainly that in spades—but an intense yearning to be with him, to help ease his pain, to feel his arms around her, for him to be hers. Her heart seemed to physically turn over in her chest with longing for this darkly handsome man who had become so important, so quickly.

  She took her time to gather her evening purse and shawl, slide out of the car, lock the door, to give herself a chance to collect her feelings before she faced him. Right now, a cheerful recounting of the assets of his superb car did not seem possible.

  But words did not seem to be required as he strode towards her and opened his arms. ‘You’re home,’ he said. She went into them with a great, choking sigh of relief and shut her eyes in bliss as they closed around her and enveloped her in his strength and warmth.

  He held her tight, his chin resting on the top of her head. She could feel the rise and fall of his chest, the thud of his heartbeat, strong, steady, reassuring and she let herself relax against him.

  For a long, enchanted moment she stood there like that, unaware of her surroundings, the concrete walls and floor of the garage, the other cars shrouded in grey covers, the intermittent ping-ping-ping sounds the sports car made as its engine cooled down. She was aware only of Declan—and the joy that flooded her heart at being so close to him, the certainty that this was where she was meant to be. That everything that had come before in her life had led to this.