The Billionaire Takes a Bride

He’d beaten off several attempts to break through his security cordon, steal the latest software his company had developed which was now going through the rigorous testing phase. He’d hoped that they, whoever they were, had given up. Apparently not.

But he was smiling again as he picked up a phone, hitting the fast dial to his Chief Software Engineer as he headed downstairs in the direction of the kitchen. Despite the fact that she had been lying through her pretty teeth—not even the most athletic hamster could have got into that drawer—he’d enjoyed watching Ginny getting into deeper and deeper water as she had tried to extricate herself from an impossible situation.

For a girl in the industrial espionage business she had a quite remarkable propensity to blush. It gave her a look of total innocence that was so completely at odds with the hot look in her eyes that a man might just be fooled into believing it.

Maybe he’d be a little less relaxed about it if there’d been anything of any value in his apartment for her to steal. As it was, he was rather looking forward to her next move.

‘Marcus.’ He jerked his mind back to more immediate concerns as his call was picked up. ‘I’ve finally cracked the problem we’ve been having.’

Then, as the spiral turned inward so that he was facing into the vast expanse of his living room, he saw the open bottle of champagne standing on the sofa table and belatedly remembered the luscious redhead he’d taken to the retirement party he’d thrown for one of his senior staff.

‘I’ll be with you in half an hour to bring the team up to speed,’ he said, not waiting for an answer before he disconnected.

Well, that explained the earring. It was Lilianne’s. She must have taken him at his word when he had told her that he’d just be five minutes, invited her to make herself comfortable.

How long had she lain in his bed, waiting for him to join her? How long before she’d stormed out in a huff? Even he could see that it would have to be a huff. At the very least.

Long enough to write him a note and tie it to the neck of the champagne bottle with one of her stockings, anyway. Presumably to emphasize what he’d missed.

He sighed. She’d been playing kiss-chase with him for weeks and he’d be lying if he denied that he’d enjoyed the game. Hard to get was so rare these days. He wasn’t fooled, of course. He understood the game too well for that. She believed the longer she held out, the greater would be her victory.

Not that he was objecting.

He’d been looking forward to the promised pay off. Which would have been last night if he hadn’t suddenly caught a glimpse of the answer to a problem that had been giving his entire development team a headache for the last couple of weeks. He checked his wristwatch. The best part of ten hours ago.

He tugged at the stocking, caught a hint of the musky scent she’d been wearing. He really needed to concentrate on one thing at a time, he decided, as the napkin fell into the melted ice.

Work—nine-till-five. Personal life—

Forget it. Work was his life.

He shrugged, picked up the napkin. Her note was short and to the point.

LOSER.

Succinct. To the point. No wasted words. He admired brevity in a woman.

However, there was still the earring found by his uninvited caller. An earring not meant to be found by a casual glance. It suggested that she’d given herself a chance to call him—after sufficient time had elapsed for him to understand that she was seriously annoyed—and offer him the opportunity to tease her into forgiving him. Resume the chase.

And he grinned.

Then, as the scent of coffee brewing reached him, his eyes narrowed. It seemed as if Ginny Lautour hadn’t been in as much of a hurry as she’d made out…

He left the note where it was and, tossing the stocking over the arm of the sofa, headed for the kitchen.

‘So, you decided to stay for breakfast after all—’

He came to an abrupt halt as he realised it was his cleaner—rather than his interesting new neighbour—who was making coffee. It left him with oddly mixed feelings.

Relief that she hadn’t, after all, taken up his casual invitation to stick around, taking advantage of an unexpected opportunity to get close to him. That she hadn’t been that obvious.

Disappointment…for much the same reason.

Not that he doubted she’d be back. Like the earring, Hector gave her all the excuse she needed to drop by any time she felt like it. Which was fine. He didn’t believe for one minute that she was a criminal mastermind. He simply wanted to know who was pulling her strings.

‘Good morning, Mr Mallory. I’ve made fresh coffee. Would you like me to cook breakfast for you?’

‘No. Thank you, Mrs Figgis.’ He’d lost his appetite. ‘I’ll have something at the office.’ Then, ‘You’ll keep a look-out for Miss Lautour’s hamster?’

‘Of course. I’m sorry she disturbed you,’ she said. ‘If I’d realised you were home…’

‘Late night. No problem.’

Far from it. If he’d left for the office at the usual time, or even taken this Friday off as he had originally planned and driven off into deepest Gloucestershire, Ginny Lautour could have searched his flat from top to bottom at her leisure and he doubted it would have crossed his cleaner’s mind to even mention it.

The hamster, he realised, was a clever excuse. It was possible he’d underestimated the girl. No, that wasn’t right, either. She might blush like a girl, but she had the eyes, the body of a woman…

‘She’s staying in the McBrides’ apartment this summer?’ he asked. It wouldn’t hurt to double check.

‘That’s right. Keeping an eye on the place. She’s a very quiet young lady,’ she said. ‘For a student.’

Maybe. Being quiet didn’t preclude dishonesty. The prize of newly developed Mallory software was enough to tempt the most innocent of souls. Or maybe she was doing it for some man.

She might blush like a nineteenth-century village maiden, but those eyes didn’t belong to a nice quiet girl.

‘She’s a student?’

‘According to Lady McBride’s daily.’

‘And she’s living there on her own?’

‘Yes. She wants some peace and quiet to work, apparently.’

‘I see. Well, let me know if you find the creature.’

‘Yes, Mr Mallory.’

He poured himself coffee, calling his secretary as he retreated to his bedroom.

‘Wendy,’ he said, as she picked up the phone. ‘I need you to organise some flowers.’

‘For the lovely Lilianne?’ she asked, hopefully.

‘No.’ She’d forfeited the flowers and the apology when she’d indulged herself with that cryptic note.

For that he’d make her sweat a bit before he called her again.

‘What happened?’ Wendy demanded, interrupting his train of thought.