Millionaire's Woman: The Millionaire's Prospective Wife / The Millionaire's Runaway Bride / The Millionaire's Reward

‘No.’ In a leisurely exercise which stopped just short of being insulting, heavily lashed blue eyes wandered over her hot face. ‘I’m an expert on being obeyed.’

Somehow she didn’t doubt that.

‘Obedience classes would be good for you,’ he continued with insufferable condescension.

It didn’t escape her notice that he had said good for her rather than the dog. The fact that he had several bits of grass in his perfectly groomed hair gave her savage satisfaction. ‘He’s not mine,’ she said shortly. ‘My aunt recently acquired him from a dog sanctuary. They thought he’d been locked away in a shed from when he was a puppy and just thrown scraps now and again. She has been taking him to classes—’ it was wonderful to be able to say it in all truth ‘—but she’s broken her leg and so I offered to give him a walk this morning.’

The sapphire gaze left her face and turned downwards to the golden dog. ‘Poor old boy,’ he said directly to Rufus who wagged his tail furiously.

And then his voice lost the brief softness and returned to its former coldness when he looked at her again and said, ‘For the sake of the dog and not least anyone in his path, keep him on the lead while your aunt is indisposed, would you?’

She bit her lip hard to prevent the spate of words which sprang to mind and counted to ten. ‘I’d worked that one out for myself.’

‘Good.’

It looked as though he was going to walk away and now Cory said quickly, ‘Your phone; I meant what I said about paying for a new one. Do you want my telephone number and address?’

He raised his brow. ‘Are you always so exceedingly generous in giving complete strangers your private details?’

He was deliberately needling her and she recognised it but still couldn’t help being caught on the raw. ‘I’m not in charge of a dog which knocks people down every day,’ she returned smartly.

He muttered something she thought might be, ‘Thank heaven for small mercies,’ before saying, ‘Don’t worry about the phone, Ms…?’

‘James. Cory James.’ She looked at him steadily through velvet-brown eyes just a shade or two lighter than her hair. ‘And I insist on paying for a new one, Mr…?’

‘My name is Nick Morgan and, I repeat, forget about the phone.’ He now took it from her, pocketing it nonchalantly.

‘I can’t do that.’ The obstinate streak which ran through her slender frame like a rod of steel came into play. ‘Rufus has ruined it and I wouldn’t feel happy unless I make amends.’

The square male jaw tightened. ‘It’s not necessary.’

‘I feel it is.’

‘Are you always this—’ he hesitated for the merest fraction of a second, and when he finished ‘—determined?’ she felt sure that was not what he’d been about to say.

‘Always.’ She didn’t smile and neither did he.

He folded his arms, surveying her for some moments without speaking. He was standing a couple of feet from her and in spite of herself her pulse was racing. It was his overwhelming masculinity that was sending the blood coursing, she told herself irritably, and she hated that he could affect her so. It wasn’t attraction—it definitely, definitely wasn’t attraction, she reiterated as though someone had challenged her on it—but more an awareness of the you Tarzan, me Jane type of definition of the sexes. What with his height, which must be at least six-three or four, and the hard look to his body, he was…well…

She couldn’t find a word to describe what Nick Morgan was and so she gave up the struggle as he spoke again.

‘A new phone will be provided the moment I walk into my offices,’ he said evenly, ‘but if you really feel the need for atonement?’

‘I do.’

A thin smile curved across his mouth as though he found something amusing. The next moment Cory realised it was her reaction to his next words he had been anticipating with relish. ‘Then I need a partner for a social occasion tonight and my proposed date has had to fly out to New York at short notice.’ His eyes pierced her with laser brightness. ‘Care to oblige?’

Cory took a moment to compose herself. She had never been so taken aback in her life. Was he joking?

Her face must have reflected her thoughts because the smile widened. ‘I’m quite serious. Of course, if you have a previous engagement or a husband or boyfriend who might object…’ He let his voice trail away but his gaze never left her.

She could lie. No, no she couldn’t, she corrected herself in the next instant, because he’d know. Somehow she knew without question that he would be able to discern any fabrication a mile off. She looked at him squarely. ‘I’m not in a relationship,’ she said shortly. ‘What exactly is involved tonight?’

‘Cocktails, dinner, dancing.’

It wasn’t a proper explanation and they both knew it. Cory waited for more.

After a few seconds had stretched themselves into what was to Cory unbearable tension, he said, ‘I’ve recently taken over a particular company and this is a goodwill gesture by me for the senior management and their partners. Nothing heavy, you know? Merely a table at Templegate and us all getting to know each other on a social level.’

Cory stared at him, her mind buzzing behind the steady brown of her eyes. A table at Templegate for the evening? That was going to cost him an arm and a leg. She had never had the opportunity to see inside the most famous nightclub in London herself, but it was where the young, rich and beautiful went to see and be seen. Trendy magazines were always brimming with pictures of this or that celebrity dancing the night away there and it was common knowledge that dinner equated to a second mortgage. She swallowed hard. ‘A party of how many?’ she asked with what she considered commendable matter-of-factness.

‘Just sixteen, or fifteen as of eight o’clock this morning,’ he added wryly. ‘My date was offered a modelling assignment she apparently couldn’t refuse.’

His girlfriend was a model? But of course she was—what else? Cory asked herself waspishly. He was obviously filthy rich and enormously successful—if the takeover remark was anything to go by. That, added to his good looks, would make him the catch of the year and ensure women were lining up in their droves. This last thought caused her to say, ‘But you must have someone else you can ask to stand in?’

‘Must I?’ he countered with lazy amusement.

‘Well, haven’t you?’

He didn’t answer this directly. What he did say was, ‘You wanted to make reparation for the dog and I suggested a way you could do so. If it’s not to your liking, that’s fine.’

It wasn’t to her liking! Of course it wasn’t to her liking. The kind of women who put in an appearance at Templegate wouldn’t be seen dead in anything other than Versace or Gabbana or Armani; the shoes that clad their tiny feet would take a couple of months of her wages alone. And to spend the evening in the company of this complete stranger who was entertaining other complete strangers would be torture. She’d be terrified of saying or doing something wrong for a start, and what if they were all snooty and standoffish or just plain uncommunicative?

She took one swift glance around the park, which was bathed in warm June sunlight, as though it was going to help her before bringing her eyes back to the keen blue gaze. ‘All right,’ she heard herself saying with faint disbelief. ‘If that’s what you want, fine, although I’d rather just pay for the phone and be done with it.’

‘Not the most gracious acceptance to dinner I’ve ever received.’ The amusement was still very much in evidence as he reached into his briefcase and extracted a small goldembossed card which he handed to her.

Cory glanced down expecting a formal business card, but it merely stated his name followed by four telephone numbers.

‘Forget the first number, that’s my home in Barnstaple,’ he said a touch impatiently. ‘The second is my London flat and the third my private line at the office. Obviously the mobile number is a little irrelevant now.’ Piercing blue eyes fastened on Rufus for a moment and the big dog shifted guiltily at her feet. Nick’s mouth twitched and then he glanced at the gold wrist-watch on one tanned wrist, his brow furrowing and the impatience more pronounced as he said, ‘I’m late for an important meeting, Miss James. Ring the flat after six tonight to give me your address, or the office number if you need me before that. The table’s booked for eight-thirty, incidentally, but we’re meeting in the cocktail bar at eight. I would like to be at the club no later than seven-thirty. Is that acceptable to you?’

The vivid blue eyes raked her face again and her pulse gave an unexplained jump. She managed a nod while she took a deep breath. ‘Look, I’m just an ordinary working girl,’ she said a little breathlessly. ‘I’m not used to places like Templegate, to be frank. If you find someone more suitable today who can help you then feel free to tell me tonight when I phone. I’ll quite understand.’

He had been about to walk away but now he turned and looked at her. There was a swift assessment when his gaze moved over her from the top of her head to the soles of her trainers. His expression didn’t alter and neither did the tone of his voice change when he said, ‘I shan’t change my mind, Miss James. Goodbye.’

Well! Cory’s face was burning as she watched him walk away with long strides which soon put him far into the distance. He’d looked at her as if she was a horse he was considering buying!

She stood for a few moments more until a whine at her feet brought her out of the maelstrom of her thoughts. Glancing down at Rufus she saw he had the nerve to be looking hard done by at the inactivity. ‘Don’t even go there,’ she warned him fiercely. ‘This is all your fault.’

The dog grinned back at her before leaping to his feet and straining at the leash, his nose twitching as a cute Bearded Collie with a topknot tied with a big pink bow to keep the hair out of her eyes swayed past, a definite comehither wiggle to her silky rear end.

‘You definitely need a certain little operation, if you ask me,’ Cory grumbled, before raising her eyes to gaze into the distance again. Blow, he’d gone. She shaded her eyes against the glare of the sun but after a moment or two was forced to accept he had disappeared from view.

All around the normal Saturday scenario was taking place—kids skateboarding, families strolling, couples stretched out on the grass sunbathing or reading, folk walking their dogs, groups of teenagers playing football or cricket or throwing Frisbees to each other—but she felt suddenly separate from it all. A run-of-the-mill walk in the park had suddenly turned into something extraordinary and, now he had gone, she had time to actually consider what had happened and she felt panic rise hot and strong.

She must be mad—stark staring mad—to agree to accompany him to Templegate tonight! Not just accompany him but virtually act as hostess to a group of people she’d never seen before in her life. Why hadn’t she said no? Why hadn’t she taken the get-out clause he’d offered? What on earth had prompted her to acquiesce to such a ridiculous proposition?

She brushed the memory of a striking, evenly planed face and steel-hard body out of her mind determinedly. It wasn’t him as a person, she told herself firmly as she began to continue the walk round the park. She wasn’t interested in Nick Morgan, not in the least. That would be sheer madness. Anyway, he already had a girlfriend and the last thing she was looking for was a relationship of any kind. No, she’d felt obliged to make amends, that was all.