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Overview
Showered with jewels and gifts, Amy knowsshe should feel lucky. But she longs to be morethan just the billionaire's playmate.
Torn between her heart and her head, Amyleaves. And Rafael, determined to win herback, must choose between wanting her as hismistress, or making her his bride—for keeps!
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781426801990 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Harlequin |
| Publication date: | 06/01/2007 |
| Series: | Mistress to a Millionaire , #4 |
| Sold by: | HARLEQUIN |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 192 |
| Sales rank: | 309,517 |
| File size: | 159 KB |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
RAFAEL VIVES wasn't sure whether to be amused, irritated,
bored or downright enraged at the situation in which he now found himself. For a man whose raison d'étre was his work, the mistress without rival, to be trapped in paradise for ten days on a babysitting mission was enough to make his teeth snap together in frustration. Even his twenty–four–hour accessory, his faithful laptop computer without which he would have been truly lost, could not make him forget that his stay at his mother's house in the Hamptons had not been of his choosing.
Fortunately, at the time, he had been on his New York stint, so the physical inconvenience had been lessened considerably, but, close though his office was, he had been asked, rather told, by his mother that he was to 'stay put and keep an eye on his brother'. He suspected that she knew him well enough to know that the minute he set foot into his office, that massive glass monster in Lower Manhattan, his mission to 'keep an eye on James, you know what he can be like' would be completely forgotten.
Her original plan had been for him to join in James's house party, a commendable reward to select employees in London and New York by way of celebrating one year's worth of substantial profit for the company.
Rafael didn't know if he or James had been more averse to the idea.
From James's point of view, one which he shared with candid horror, the idea of Rafael, as he put it, 'glowering in the corners and frightening the employees' made his blood run cold.
And, as far as Rafael was concerned, the thought of mingling with a truckload of people all day and all night, without any remission for good behaviour, was beyond the pale. In the running of the conglomerate, James was the blond–haired, blue–eyed face of advertising campaigns, and he, Rafael, the brains and horsepower that drove the company.
The symbiotic relationship worked and Eva, their mother, was forced to concede to their reluctantly agreed concession.
James would host the party at the house, a sprawling beach mansion poised on three acres of land and overlooking the spectacular beauty of prime Hamptons beach.
Rafael, from the peace and seclusion of a guest cottage in the grounds, would oversee things, ensuring that neither the music nor the fun and frolics got out of hand.
The last time James had hosted a party at the house, neighbours had complained and that was quite something considering how far away the nearest neighbour lived.
Of course, as Rafael had pointed out to his mother in an attempt to divert her from her insistence on his presence at the event, that had been two years ago and the party had been laid on for James's personal friends, all in their early to mid twenties, rather than employees of the company, but his objections had been in vain. Eva Lee still shuddered at the memory of the fiasco and the inevitable all round apologies to her friends at the East Hampton Improvement Society.
So here he was now, one day into his Big Brother role and already itching to get back to the cut and thrust of what he knew and loved.
But at least, he conceded, the scenery was magnificent, forced as he was to contemplate it. It briefly, though only briefly, occurred to him that he didn't visit the place often enough. The idyllic days of youth spent at the then family home had gradually tapered off to the occasional visits in between his university studies and thirst for foreign travel. And then his working life had begun in earnest, first operating independently at one of the biggest broking houses in the world and thereafter at the helm of the family company, following the untimely death of his stepfather, and James's dad.
From there on in, time and the years had galloped away, leaving him now to ruminate as he stared at the stunningly beautiful and dipping sunset at the possibility that he would wake up one day only to find himself a middle–aged man married to a company.
Rafael frowned grimly and sipped the whisky and soda he had prepared for himself. Introspection was not a pastime he indulged. He had always been goal–oriented and had seldom questioned the unutterable direction of his plans.
He wasn't about to start now.
On the drift of the breeze, he could hear the faraway sounds of forty–odd people having a good time.
It wasn't too hard to picture the scene. James, naturally, would be in the thick of it. Pre –dinner drinks would be on the go and, of course, with an army of staff requisitioned to ease the strain of actually having to do very much of a practical nature, there would be no headaches over what to cook for everyone to eat or even when to top up the empty glass. The finest wine would be accompanied by the finest food and everything would be served by the most reliable and efficient of staff that money could buy.
Spirits would be merry, indiscretions would doubtless abound, especially considering that employees on either side of the Atlantic would be meeting for the first time, without the annoying presence of spouses or partners to cramp the merriment. In the morning hangovers would probably be rampant, but at least for the while some very thorough guiltfree drinking would be done. Of that Rafael was utterly sure. And never mind the jet lag.
He downed his drink and breathed a hearty sigh of relief that he was to be spared the fun and games.
He really didn't know any of the people who had been invited to the bash. James had told him that the accountants and the managers and the marketing crew, who always basked in the limelight when it came to credit and applause for company profits, would be given a bonus, but the 'forgotten crew' would glory in their once–in–a–lifetime experience of the East End of New York's Long Island. Rafael's mind had boggled at the speculation of what his brother meant by the 'forgotten crew', although he had to admit that the sentiment was in the right place. Rewards should not be confined to the obvious but should filter down the line into the pockets of those whose profiles were less highly visible.
As he stood on the small wooden porch, staring out to the ocean, Rafael mused on how vastly different he was to his half–brother. They might well have been strangers, so great was the chasm between them as far as their personal tastes in friends, women and lifestyles were concerned.
He was idly speculating on how two people who shared at least some of the same DNA code could be so wildly different when he spotted something out of the corner of his eye. Something or someone. A faint rustling amongst the lush, perfectly landscaped vegetation that signified a presence.
And a presence could only mean one thing. A party–goer, in the heat of the moment and with the wine flowing like a fountain, had failed to realise that he had strayed out of bounds.
Rafael carefully put his glass down and turned towards the direction of the rustling. The light might be fading, but he wasn't blind and the bimbo trying to tiptoe away from the scene of the crime must have had all of one brain cell to imagine that he couldn't see her. And he could. Blonde hair, of course. Faded cut–off jeans worn very tight. Naturally. Cropped top with obligatory slither of stomach exposed. In other words, just the sort of woman Rafael found deeply unappealing.
"Hey, you!"
Lord, his voice ricocheted around Amy and she gave a little startled yelp as she turned tail to flee. One glance at the man, all shadow and substance at the same time, was enough to warn her that, whoever the hell he was, he wasn't the sort to chuckle over the fact that she was probably trespassing on his property.
Not that it was easy to tell where James Lee's property began and ended.
The place was just so big! Even with a severe case of jet lag kicking in, it was still impossible to miss the fact that 'the family house' stopped only a few polite centimetres short of being a hotel. And the grounds! Succulently tempting. Even with her body clock warning her that it might be time to head for her bedroom, the verdant lawns with their masterfully landscaped grounds had egged her on, tempting her to explore just for a little while.
Hence the fact that she was now trying to dodge a giant of a man who seemed to be rapidly closing ground between them.
She was barely aware of his stealthy movement towards her and was, in fact, breathing a sigh of relief that she had escaped, when a hand closed over her shoulder, yanking her to a sudden, painful halt, before swinging her around so that she was forced to look up…and up…until she was staring into the most forbidding face she had ever seen in her life. Black eyes glared down at her from a face that was all disturbing angles and shadows. His mouth was a thinly drawn line of suppressed anger. Amy's breath caught in her throat as she stared up at him, her eyes widening as her brain rapidly went through the various possibilities for danger that were confronting her.
Fortunately for Amy, danger, the unknown and certainly threatening oversized strangers were not things that could keep her exuberant nature suppressed for too long.
'Who the hell are you?" 'What the hell do you think you're doing here?"
They spoke at the same time, glaring at each other with equal ferocity, until Amy slapped his hand off her shoulders and stepped back, her blue eyes spitting fire.
"I asked you first!" Amy decided to go on the immediate attack because, for once, her vocabulary was threatening to let her down when she needed it most. She rubbed her shoulder meaningfully, every inch of her five–foot–three frame emanating anger.
Rafael took a deep breath and summoned up the formidable self control that had made him such a powerful contender in the world of high finance. He turned his back and began walking away, towards the house, leaving the wretched blonde to stew in her own pathetic discomfort, even though every fibre in his being wanted to prolong the confrontation so that he could put her soundly in her place.
"Hey! Where do you think you're going, mister?" Rafael turned around and stared at the diminutive figure that hadn't budged from where he had left her. This time, her hands were planted firmly on her hips. The breeze, he could see, was wreaking havoc with the curly fair hair, blowing it this way and that. The cropped top had ridden up a little higher and there was slightly more of that slither of stomach visible.
In every way, shape and form, this woman conformed to his brother's idea of the perfect woman, from the obvious clothing to the flyaway blonde hair. The only variation on the theme seemed to be that this particular model didn't have the requisite big breasts.
"I beg your pardon?"Rafael said with icy politeness, hardly believing his ears.
"You heard me!"Amy took a couple of steps forward. 'Who the heck are you and what do you think you're doing on James Lee's property?"
"Oh, good God. A madwoman. I suppose you're a member of his guest list up at the big house and you're a little worse for wear." Rafael checked his watch. 'Pretty good going considering you really haven't been here that long." He gave a short, sarcastic little laugh that made the blood rush to Amy's head.
"How dare you?"
She had taken a few steps closer to him. Now, with the light from the porch spilling onto her, Rafael could see that the cute little figure, minus the large breasts, was accompanied by a face that might have passed for just another pretty one were it not for the lively expression on it. He had an idea that this woman was not backward when it came to self–expression. Loud mouthed and brash, he assumed, with distaste.
As if to cement the unfortunate impression, Amy glared at him. 'Does James know that you're here? Ha! I'll bet he doesn't! I know for a fact that he doesn't use this place very often so I'm sure he'd be overjoyed to know that there's a squatter on the grounds!"
"Squatter?" Rafael gave a roar of laughter. 'You heard me. A squatter!" Well, he didn't exactly look like one, but, then again, he certainly didn't look like one of the people James would normally mix with. Of which she was not exactly one, but she sure as heck knew what they were like because she saw them often enough in the director's restaurant, where she worked behind the lines, providing highquality food for the high–quality executives, and, sometimes after hours, for James's personal entourage, glamorous women and playboy men who occasionally had a bite to eat in the boardroom before heading out to some trendy London night spot.
Of course, none of the directors knew that James was the unofficial recipient of Amy's catering skills. For the past year and a half that had been their little secret and one that was so James with his winning, risqué ways, his charming disregard for convention except when it suited him.
Wasn't that why she had taken to daydreaming shamelessly about him over time? Oh, he was so much more than just a good–looking face and a moneyed background!
Amy surfaced from her distracting thoughts to find the man, now recovered from his laughing fit, eyeing her coldly.
"I am not a squatter. In fact, I've never heard such a ridiculous suggestion in my life."
"Then who are you?" 'Someone who isn't about to stand around here and have a pointless discussion with some woman who's the worse for wear."
"I am not the worse for wear!" 'Well, you're certainly behaving like you are." Rafael's voice dripped contempt. Some men liked shrieking women, but he wasn't one of them. He liked them refined, elegant, composed. His expression hardened. 'And I have no desire to conduct a conversation with a fishwife."
Amy gasped. His lack of common courtesy was somehow shocking, especially, she thought belatedly, considering he was talking to a guest of the man on whose grounds he had apparently set up camp. Legally or illegally, she had yet to find out.
Yet again he had turned his back on her and was striding towards the house. He couldn't possibly be oblivious to her presence because she was hardly trying to be silent, but he certainly wasn't spinning round to continue the sparring match.
In fact, she hopped onto the covered wooden porch at roughly the same time as he swung through the front door and without a backward glance slammed it firmly in her face.
As expected, it wasn't long before Rafael heard the woman banging on the door. At this rate, between her uncontrolled shrieking and the unholy racket she was now making, the neighbours would be reporting him!
