How To Marry A Billionaire

Adam Tyler and his dreamy, distracting blue eyes did not come into the mantra once, so the bigger the distance between the two of them, the better.

Adam remained seated, debating internally whether it was better to watch her walk away, her lithe hips swinging as she mastered her outrageous shoes, or to watch her from front on, her lovely face so animated, her hands forever moving with nervous energy, and that huge flower bouncing about atop her head.

He dragged his interest away with some regret.

So, it looked as though Chris was going to be The Billionaire Bachelor. He cringed again. But that would have to be the last time. He had no choice. He was going to have to join bloody Chris on the set for the next two bloody weeks and act as babysitter to his bloody best friend.

‘Sex sells,’ Cara had said. He knew she was spot on. And if that feisty employee was anything to go by, he had the unsettling but mounting feeling that this show was going to produce fireworks…and that it would be in Revolution Wireless’s interest to be seen to be lighting the match.

CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_a6e9bc31-cd0a-5dcc-99a2-17ecbf3db0dc)

CARA went home to St Kilda Storeys, her beloved apartment building that would very soon be truly hers. There was a note from Gracie on her apartment door. She took the steps, two at a time, to Gracie’s top-floor apartment and knocked.

Cara heard scuffling and snuffling as Minky got to the door first. Gracie was looking after the fluffy, almost-white, Maltese Terrier while their fellow Saturday Night Cocktails gang member Kelly and her husband Simon were out of town visiting friends in Fremantle.

Gracie finally opened the door with a wriggling Minky in her arms. ‘Well?’ she said.

‘I got the job.’

Cara was lost in hugs from Gracie, and tiny lapping kisses from Minky.

‘I knew it!’ Gracie said. ‘Or at least I wished and hoped super hard!’

Gracie grabbed Cara and steered her toward the small old couch that took up half of the tiny lounge. ‘I have ten minutes before I have to be at work. So tell me all about…everything.’

‘I can’t, actually. It’s all seriously under wraps.’

‘Even to me?’

‘Especially to you.’

Gracie had the good grace to nod. ‘Good plan. I can’t keep a secret to save my life. Keep it to yourself. So tell me something else. Who did you meet? Anybody famous? How about that guy who hosts the movie review programme? He’s a bit of a hottie.’

‘Wrong channel.’

‘Oh, yeah, right. Anyone else I can brag about?’

‘Umm, not really. Though you’ll be pleased to know that I did have an interesting lunch with this one guy…’

Cara went on to fill Gracie in on the important points of her lunch date—no names mentioned, of course: the ominous stare, the powerful grace, the serious good looks worthy of a menswear catalogue.

‘Armani or Target?’ Gracie asked, using their usual scale.

‘Armani, without a doubt.’

Gracie nodded in pleasant surprise. But either way the truth about this guy was immaterial. Cara was going to be holed up in a hotel for the next two weeks with way too much else to occupy her to care.

Adam went back to work.

Dean, the third partner in the Revolution Wireless giant, was pacing behind his desk. Where Chris was the ideas guy, and Adam was the salesman, Dean looked after the day-to-day blood, sweat and tears side of the operation, and it showed. His tie was long gone and his shirt sleeves were rolled up, his hands flying about him as he yabbered away into a telephone head set.

Adam took a seat at the desk and waited for the one-sided staccato conversation to finish.

‘Adam, my man,’ Dean said, giving his friend a hearty handshake, before resuming his pacing. ‘What’s up?’

‘It’s about Chris.’

‘And this dating show deal?’

Adam nodded.

Dean flapped a dismissive hand across his face. ‘Let him be.’

‘Are you serious?’

‘Sure. It’s been over a year since he last took a holiday, so think of it that way if it helps.’

‘It doesn’t help. I have worked my backside off to sell Revolution Wireless as a serious company, as serious competition against the giants who have cornered the market for years, and just as we’ve made the leap Chris is about to go and make us all look like amateurs.’

‘Not amateurs,’ Dean said, eyeing Adam down. ‘Human. And human ain’t such a bad angle to give a company this size, if you ask me.’

Adam blinked and Dean cocked an eyebrow at the move.

‘So you back him on this?’ Adam asked.

‘A hundred per cent. I think he’s a brave, brave fellow. He’s putting it all out there and that takes guts. And I don’t see why Revolution Wireless should suffer for showing that one of our leading lights has guts to spare.’

Adam let the idea wash over him. He was being shot down from all angles and he knew it would not do anybody any good if he fought against such diminishing odds.

‘OK, then. If that’s your decision, I want us to sponsor the show.’

Dean stopped his pacing at once. He ran a hand through his sandy hair, though it fell back into the same shambles instantly. ‘You want us to sponsor the show?’

‘Well, it certainly looks like I can’t stop the show, so why not make the most of it? Why not take advantage of the fact that it will be a significantly supported prime-time television event with the opportunity for intensive branding that is set to rake in viewing numbers like none other has done before?’

And that way he could wangle his way onto the set, insist that he be able to stay in the hotel with the cast and crew, because only then could he keep an eye on Chris. Make sure his magnanimous friend did not lose his heart and along with it his wallet to some conniving, manipulative schemer. Because for the life of him he could not see how the whole episode could end any other way.

Dean’s smile dawned slowly. ‘Sure, why not? You’re the marketing guru, my friend, so if you think it will float, you have my vote.’

Adam nodded. Decision made. ‘So will you be OK with the two of us AWOL for the next couple of weeks?’

‘Of course. So long as you’re on the other end of the phone. I mean, if we couldn’t run our business by mobile phone and email we would be in a heap of trouble!’

Adam could not help but smile. ‘Too true.’

Three of Dean’s phone lines lit up almost simultaneously.

Adam stood. ‘I’ll leave you to it.’