An Unlikely Bride for the Billionaire (7 page)

‘It's not your responsibility to apologise on behalf of other people, Dylan.'

Maybe not, but it
felt
like his fault. If he'd taken the time to get to know Thierry better before now...

She reached out and placed a sandwich in front of him. ‘And you need to remember that just because he dislikes
me
, and my background, it doesn't necessarily make him a bad person.'

Dylan was far from sure about that.

‘Even if I didn't have a criminal record, there's no law that says Thierry has to
like
me.'

‘Mia, it's not the fact that he doesn't like you or even that he was rude to you that worries me. What disturbs me is the fact that he threatened you.'

‘I can take care of myself.'

She said the words quietly and he didn't doubt her. He wished she didn't
have
to take care of herself. He wished she was surrounded by an army of people who'd take care of her. He sensed that wasn't the case, and suddenly he wanted to buy her a hundred chocolate bars... But what good would that do?

No substance, Dylan Fairweather. You don't have an ounce of substance
.

The words roared through him. He pulled air in through his nose and let it out through his mouth—once, twice.

‘I have less confidence,' he said finally, ‘in Carla's ability to take care of herself.' He met Mia's dark-eyed gaze. ‘What if he talks to
her
the way he spoke to you? What if he threatens
her
in the same way he threatened you?'

CHAPTER FOUR

D
YLAN
COULDN
'
T
KNOW
it, but each word raised a welt on Mia's soul. The thought of a woman as lovely as Carla, as open and kind as she was, being controlled and manipulated, possibly even abused, by a man claiming to love her...

It made her stomach burn acid.

It made her want to run away at a hundred miles an hour in the other direction.

She recalled how Thierry had trapped her against the wall in the reptile house and her temples started to throb.

She set her sandwich down before she mangled it. ‘Have you seen anything to give you cause for concern before now?'

Those laughing lips of his, his shoulders, and even the laughter lines fanning out from his eyes—all drooped. Her heart burned for him. She wanted to reach out and cover his hand, to offer him whatever comfort she could.

Don't be an idiot
.

Dylan might be all golden flirtatious charm, but it didn't mean he'd want someone like
her
touching him. She chafed her left forearm, digging her fingers into the muscle to try and loosen the tension that coiled her tight. She wasn't qualified to offer advice about family or relationships, but even
she
could see what he needed to do.

‘Can't...?' She swallowed to counter a suddenly dry throat. ‘Can't you talk to Carla and share your concerns?'

‘And say what?
Carla, I think the man you're about to marry is a complete and utter jerk
?' He gave a harsh laugh. ‘She'd translate that as me forcing her to choose between her brother and her fiancé.'

From the look on his face, it was evident he didn't think she'd choose him. She thought back to the way Carla had clung to Thierry's arm and realised Dylan might have a point.

‘How about something a little less confrontational?' She reached for a can of soda, needing something to do with her hands. ‘Something like...
Carla, Thierry strikes me as a bit moody. Are you sure he treats you well?
'

He gave a frustrated shake of his head. ‘She'd still read it as me criticising her choice. I'd have to go to great lengths to make it as clear as possible that I'm not making her choose between me and Thierry, but the fact of the matter is—regardless of what I discover—I have no power to stop this wedding unless it's what Carla wants. And if she
does
marry him and he
is
cruel to her... I want her to feel she's able to turn to me without feeling constrained because I warned her off him.'

His logic made sense, in a roundabout way, but it still left her feeling uneasy. ‘You know, you don't have a lot to go on, here. One incident isn't necessarily indicative of the man. Perhaps you need to make a concerted effort to get to know him better.'

‘I mean to. I'm already on it.' Her surprise must have shown, because he added. ‘It doesn't take fifteen minutes to buy a few sandwiches, Mia. I made a couple of phone calls before meeting you here.'

She frowned, not really knowing what that meant. ‘Did you find out anything?'

‘Not yet.'

And then she realised exactly what he'd done. ‘You hired a private investigator?'

‘Yep.'

‘Don't you think that's a little extreme?'

‘Not when my sister's happiness and perhaps her physical well-being is at stake.'

She recalled Thierry's latent physical threat to her and thought Dylan might have a point. Still...

‘I want to ask for your assistance, Mia.'

‘Mine?' she squeaked. What on earth did he think
she
could do?

‘I want you to befriend Carla. She might confide in you—especially as Thierry has made it clear that he doesn't like you.'

Had he gone mad? ‘Dylan, I can be as friendly towards Carla as it's possible to be.' She'd already resolved to do so. ‘But when we get right down to it I'm just one of the many people helping to organise her wedding. We don't exactly move in the same social circles.'

‘I've thought about that too. And I've come up with a solution.'

She had a premonition that she wasn't going to like what came next.

He leaned towards her. ‘If Carla thought that we were dating—'

‘No!'
She shot so far away from him she was in danger of falling off the bench.

He continued to survey her, seeming not put off in the least by her vehemence. He unwrapped a chocolate bar and bit into it. ‘Why not?'

She wanted to tell him to eat a sandwich first—put something proper into his stomach—but it wasn't her place...and it was utterly beside the point.

‘Because I don't date!'

‘It wouldn't be
real
dating,' he said patiently. ‘It'd be pretend dating.'

She slapped a hand to her chest. ‘I work hard to keep a low profile. I don't need my past coming back and biting me more often than it already does. I have a plan for my life, Dylan—to finish my field officer training and find work in a national park. Somewhere rural—'
remote
‘—and quiet, where I can train towards becoming a ranger. All I want is a quiet life so I can live peacefully and stay out of trouble. Dating you
won't
help me achieve that. You live your life up among the stars. You're high-profile.' She pointed to herself. ‘Low-profile. Can you see how that's not going to work?'

He tapped a finger against his mouth. ‘It's a valid point.'

He leaned towards her, his lips pressed into a firm, persuasive line. It took an effort not to let her attention become distracted by those lips.

‘What if I promise to keep your name out of the papers?'

‘How? Australia's golden-boy bachelor slumming it with an ex-jailbird?
That
story's too juicy to keep under wraps.'

Heaven only knew what Gordon Coulter would do with a headline like that.

‘I've learned over the years how to be
very
discreet. I swear to you that nobody will suspect a thing.'

‘Will Thierry be discreet too?' she asked, unable to hide the scorn threading her voice as she recalled his threat to make trouble for her.

‘You leave Thierry to me.'

With pleasure.

Dylan pushed his shoulders back, a steely light gleaming in his eyes, and she had to swallow. The golden charmer had gone—had been replaced by someone bigger, harder...and far more intimidating. Beneath his laughing, charismatic allure, she sensed that Dylan had a warrior's heart.

His nostrils flared. ‘I'll make sure he doesn't touch you.'

She couldn't have said why, but she believed him—implicitly. Her heart started to thud too hard, too fast. ‘Dylan, surely you'd be better off concocting this kind of scheme with one of Carla's friends? They'd—'

‘She doesn't have any. Not close. Not any more.'

Why ever not
?

His face turned to stone, but his eyes flashed fire. ‘Two years ago Carla's boyfriend ran off with her best friend.'

Mia closed her eyes.

‘Carla went into a deep depression and pushed all her friends away. She's never been the sort of person to have a lot of close friends—a large social circle, perhaps, but only one or two people she'd consider close—and...'

‘And it was all a mess after such a betrayal,' she finished for him, reading it in his face and wanting to spare him the necessity of having to say it out loud. ‘Loyalties were divided and some fences never mended.'

He nodded.

She leapt up, needing to work off the agitation coursing through her. ‘Dylan, I...'

‘What?'

She swung back to him. ‘I don't know how we can pull off something like that—pretending to date—convincingly.'

She sat again, feeling like a goose for striding around and revealing her agitation. When she glanced across at him the expression in his eyes made her stomach flip-flop. In one smooth motion he slid across until they were almost touching. He smelt fresh and clean, like sun-warmed cotton sheets, and her every sense went on high alert.

He touched the backs of his fingers to her cheek and she sucked in a breath, shocked at her need to lean into the contact. Oh, this was madness!

‘Dylan, I—'

His thumb pressed against her mouth, halting her words. Then he traced the line of her bottom lip and a pulse thumped to life inside her. She couldn't stop her lip from softening beneath his touch, or her mouth from parting ever so slightly so she could draw the scent of him into her lungs.

‘I don't think you realise how lovely you are.'

Somewhere nearby a peacock honked. Something splashed in the lily pond. But all Mia could focus on was the man in front of her, staring down at her as if...as if she were a cream bun he'd like to devour...slowly and deliciously.

It shocked her to realise that in that moment she wanted nothing more than to
be
a cream bun.

Dangerous
.

The word whispered through her. Some part of her mind registered it, but she was utterly incapable of moving away and breaking the spell Dylan had woven around them.

‘Sweet and lovely Mia.'

The low, warm promise in his voice made her breath catch.

‘I think we're going to have exactly the opposite problem. I think if we're not careful we could be in danger of being
too
convincing...we could be in danger of convincing ourselves that a lie should become the truth.'

A fire fanned through her. Yesterday, when he'd flirted with her, hadn't it just been out of habit? Had he meant it? He found her attractive?

‘Dylan...' His name whispered from her. She didn't mean it to.

His eyes darkened at whatever he saw in her face. ‘I dreamed of you last night.'

Dangerous
.

The word whispered through her again.

But it didn't feel dangerous. It felt
right
to be whispering secrets to each other.

His thumb swept along the fullness of her bottom lip again, pulling against it to explore the damp moistness inside, sensitising it almost beyond bearing. Unable to help herself, she flicked out her tongue to taste him.

‘Mia...' He groaned out her name as if it came from some deep, hidden place.

His head moved towards her, his lips aiming to replace his thumb, and her soul suddenly soared.

Dangerous
.

Dangerous and glorious. This man had mesmerised her from the moment she'd first laid eyes on him and—

Mesmerised...?

Dangerous
!

With a half-sob Mia fisted her hands in his shirt, but didn't have the strength to push him away. She dropped her chin, ensuring that his kiss landed on her brow instead of her lips.

She felt rather than heard him sigh.

After three hard beats of her heart she let him go. In another two he slid back along the bench away from her.

‘As I said, I don't think being convincing will be a problem. However much you might deny it, something burns between us—something that could be so much more than a spark if we'd let it.'

It would be foolish to deny it now.

‘Why do you have a no-dating rule?' he asked.

His words pulled her back. With an effort, she found her voice. ‘It keeps me out of trouble.'

He remained silent, as if waiting for more, but Mia refused to add anything else.

‘Maybe one day you'll share your reasoning with me, but until then I fully mean to respect your rules, Mia.'

He did? She finally glanced up at him.

The faintest of smiles touched his lips. ‘And, unlike you, I'm more than happy to share my reasons. One—' he held up a finger ‘—if I don't respect your no-dating rule I suspect I have no hope of winning your co-operation where Carla's concerned.'

Self-interest? At least that was honest.

He held up a second finger. ‘And, two, it seems to me you already have enough people in your life who don't respect your wishes. I don't mean to become one of their number.'

Despite her best efforts, some of the ice around her heart cracked.

He stared at her for a long moment, his mouth turning grim. ‘I fancied myself in love once, but when things got tough the girl in question couldn't hack it. She left. Next time I fall in love it'll be with a woman who can cope with the rough as well as the smooth.'

His nostrils flared, his eyes darkening, and Mia wondered if he'd gone back to that time when the girl in question had broken his heart. She wanted to reach out and touch his hand, pull him back to the present.

She dragged her hands into her lap. ‘I'm sorry, Dylan.'

He shook himself. ‘It's true that I'm attracted to you, but you've just pointed out how very differently we want to live our lives—high-profile, low-profile. In the real world, that continual push and pull would make us miserable.'

Mia had to look away, but she nodded to let him know that she agreed. It didn't stop her heart from shrivelling to the size of a gum nut.

‘Your no-dating rule obviously rules out a fling?'

‘It does.' Anything else would be a disaster.

‘So these are our ground rules. With those firmly in place we shouldn't have any misunderstandings or false hopes, right? We just need to remember the reasons why we're not dating at the moment, why we're not looking for a relationship, and that'll keep us safe.'

She guessed so.

He drummed his fingers on the picnic table. ‘It occurs to me that I haven't given you much incentive to help me out. I'm a selfish brute.'

His consideration for Carla proved that was a lie.

‘I've no intention of taking advantage of you. I'm fully prepared to pay you for your time.'

She flinched at his words, throwing an arm up to ward them off. ‘I don't want your
money
, Dylan.'