Stranded For One Scandalous Week (Mills & Boon Modern) (Rebels, Brothers, Billionaires Book 1)

by Natalie Anderson

  ‘The place is large enough for us to avoid each other completely,’ Merle Jordan reiterated in that shy, low, sexy-as-sin voice.

  Ash stared as the colour in her luminous skin increased and her beautiful brown eyes darkened. His gloom evaporated as his intuition purred. He had to suppress a satisfied smile.

  She was bothered. It wasn’t just because of what he’d said or done. The underlying cause was as obvious as it was reciprocated by him. Instant interest—the immediate recognition of physical, pleasurable, possibilities. Admittedly, they were possibilities she seemed determined to reject. Yet she was the one who’d insisted on staying here. Who’d insisted he discover for himself how impossible it was to find other accommodation on the island. Who’d wanted to teach him a lesson. It had actually pleased him to learn that he’d be able to sell even this ultra-expensive property quickly and easily, given the popularity of all pricing levels of accommodation. So her plan hadn’t only backfired, it’d also had a beneficial consequence.

  ‘Don’t you think?’ she added.

  Maybe there could be more than one benefit. But then he saw the anxiety lurking in the backs of those beautiful eyes.

  She’s bothered because she’s worried about being homeless, you idiot.

  At his silence that blush swamped her face again. She’d almost stammered as she’d pushed past her shyness to fight for her place here. It had cost her to admit to him the truth of her circumstances. The confession hadn’t been an attempt at manipulation, but rather dragged out of her in raw embarrassment. It drew a response from deep within him too. The feeling shimmered again now and reminded him of another woman who’d also been alone and vulnerable and awkwardly shy. One who he’d stepped forward to help. But back then the flare of protectiveness within Ash had ended in a destructive mess.

  Back. Away.

  He should leave. Yet the temptation to do the absolute opposite almost overwhelmed him. He wanted to reach out and slide his fingertips down her neck, to push aside that baggy sweatshirt and explore her skin, to draw her close and kiss her past comfortable and right on to pleasured. The concentration required to stop himself made him ache. This chemistry at first sight was explosive. For all of his success with women, it wasn’t something he was used to. He played around but never foolishly. Now it was as if a fever had taken hold. He forced his gaze beyond her, focusing on the house to pull himself together.

  It was exactly the shock he needed.

  The beach house had always stolen his breath—one moonlit glimpse of the inky water was enough to invoke that old sense of freedom. But the house itself had been altered beyond recognition—entire walls were gone, replaced with larger, newer elements. He’d yet to see all the renovations, but what he could see was so changed. That first feeling of freedom was strangled in seconds by anger. Regret. Self-recrimination. The last time he’d been here was the last time he’d seen his mother alive. And he’d disappointed her so badly.

  He refused to remember. But he’d been refusing to remember for a long time now. And after yesterday’s article?

  The piece had celebrated his ʻsainted’ father before speculating and comparing his disparate sons’ lives yet again. Ash still couldn’t fathom how his father had been held in such high esteem for so long. Even after Ash had exposed Hugh Castle’s cheating soul to the world by providing Leo with a DNA sample to prove he was Hugh’s illegitimate son, his old man’s other successes had overridden any punishment he should have faced. Hugh had been miraculously forgiven not just by his beloved ‘society circles’, but by the media and court of public opinion too. Even though the lying old jerk had spent years denying Leo’s birthright, years destroying Leo’s mother’s reputation.

  Who could blame Hugh for a few transgressions when he’d suffered the heartbreak of a dying wife for so long?

  As though his father were the victim. Empathetic explanations were offered and forgiveness assured. But not by Ash. Never by him. The falsity of it all was something he couldn’t forget. Indeed, the abbreviation of his name was apt. Because all Ash could offer were the acrid, smoking remnants of what had once been. And all he wanted to do was destroy what was left of his father’s legacy. For him this place on Waiheke Island was the core—the most obvious construct of his father’s deceit. It was the ultimate symbol of his father’s ability to build over the truth with nothing but a fabrication of perfection.

  That article had forced all those feelings up and he’d finally come to face the poisonous betrayal of his father’s last actions. To say his final, bitter goodbye so he could forget it all for ever. To finish it, so Leo didn’t need to trouble. But his capable half-brother had already stepped in. He’d hired Merle Jordan to sort out the vast personal collections that had been dumped here in the aftermath of their father’s death. Was there any need for Ash to stay here at all?

  Bitterness and an acrid sense of futility swamped him—scouring off the old scab and exposing the raw wound he’d been hiding for years. He’d been helpless the last time he was here, too—watching his desperately unwell mother. Disappointing her beyond redemption. But there was one last thing he needed to do for her—despite his inability to ever secure her forgiveness. And that task wasn’t right for a stranger’s hands—not even the soft, light, careful hands of the archivist standing before him. It was a job only for Ash. He couldn’t avoid it any longer. He had enough regrets regarding his mum already. So he had to stay for a day or so at least to accomplish this last for her—he’d go through her things and dispose of them himself.

  Like most people, Ash infinitely preferred pleasure to pain. And the memories he couldn’t restrain now were the worst of his life. So what else could he do but glance again at the welcome radiance of his initially unwanted housemate?

  The luscious Merle Jordan’s hair was still mostly tied up in that messy pile while a few wispy curls lingered from the damp heat of the bath. She wore not an ounce of make-up but her pouty lips were a tantalising pink and her eyes were like dark pools in secret caves—their depth indeterminable, possibly dangerous, but still so damn inviting. His senses begged him to step closer, to stare deeper, to touch and discover if she was as soft and yielding as she looked. Sex had always been an escape and he needed escape more than anything in this bitterest of returns.

  ‘I’m hungry, Merle.’ He couldn’t resist voicing his thoughts.

  Her eyes widened and he could’ve sworn the pulse at the base of her neck fluttered faster.

  ‘Is there anything delicious to eat?’ he added lazily, unable to resist the pleasure of watching her react to such a very little tease.

  She swallowed. ‘Um...’

  ‘Or do I have to find that out for myself as well?’

  He suppressed the smirk at her visible flare of irritation.

  ‘There’s...’ Her voice faded away.

  ‘Not much?’ he gathered drily, wondering how much more it would take to provoke the real response he just knew she was thinking.

  Her expression turned mutinous. Her lashes fluttering her eyes a direct stare into his pitiful soul.

  ‘Didn’t you bring anything with you?’

  He smiled. It was the slightest of stands with a hint of scorn. She thought he was spoiled and, yes, that was exactly what he was. He’d make no apologies for it or for any of his other faults. But he liked that tiny glimpse of her spirit. He wanted to see more of it. More of her—all over.

  Frankly, he didn’t expect to have all kinds of appetites roused here and now.

  But as he gazed at her, suffering her wide-eyed scrutiny, something else tugged inside him. A very small desire to do a little better. He abruptly turned and stalked to the kitchen. But he was keenly aware of her following him with that intriguingly subversive look barely hidden in her expression.

  Once there, he scoped the shelves, but there were limited signs of her presence. In the fridge there was a single block of chees
e. On one shelf in the pantry there were a few small tins of fish, a couple of packets of instant noodles and a box of crackers. Just looking at her pathetic supplies made his stomach rumble.

  ‘What do you exist on?’ he grumbled, glancing over to where she stood on the other side of the large kitchen counter, primly holding her hands together and pursing her very kissable lips.

  ‘I have sufficient supplies.’

  ‘Sufficient?’ he echoed drily. ‘How sad. Why have merely sufficient when you can have satisfying?’

  Colour tinged her cheeks again. He couldn’t resist acting up the outrageousness he knew she expected from him. She thought he was an irresponsible playboy? He was quite happy to perform if it meant he kept seeing her blush.

  ‘Instant noodles.’ He groaned. They weren’t even decent flavours.

  ‘They’re delicious.’

  ‘I prefer my noodles hand-pulled and fresh.’ He knew he sounded awful, but it was too much to keep from pulling another eye-roll from her. He poked through the tins and came across a small stack of individual steamed puddings—complete with caramel sauce. They were little single-serve tubs to go in the microwave.

  ‘Oh, here we go.’ He glanced at her slyly. ‘So you’re not afraid to spoil yourself in secret?’

  Of course she wasn’t. Hadn’t he just caught her indulging in a luxurious candle-lit bubble bath while sipping over-priced champagne? She had a decadent, sensual streak.

  She stared at him, those eyes widened in shock. Then he saw her chin tilt.

  ‘You want to eat my little dessert?’ Her voice was impossibly breathy.

  No. He wanted to eat her. And they both knew it. He stared at her, stilled by the glimpse of steel in her eyes. And of heat.

  ‘You think you can just swoop in and take what you want?’ she added, despite the blush mottling not just her face but her neck too. ‘No matter who it belongs to?’

  Wasn’t she a deliciously pointy creature when she let herself out?

  ‘I’ll always take what I want from someone who’s willing to offer it to me,’ he assured her.

  He watched her warring with whether to speak again or not. He couldn’t move, desperate for her to say it.

  ‘I’m not offering anything,’ she finally claimed.

  ‘Not even one little bite of pudding?’ he drawled. ‘Damned if I’m going to spend the week living like I’ve been shipwrecked.’

  She shouldn’t settle for that either.

  ‘You can’t cope with a constraint on your appetite even for a little while?’ she asked.

  The little punch pleased him an inordinate amount.

  ‘I don’t like to be denied decent sustenance,’ he answered lazily. ‘I like delicious. It doesn’t have to be a lot, but it does have to be quality.’

  ‘A man like you will always want more than a morsel of perfection,’ she said quietly. ‘You wouldn’t stop at one of those puddings, you’d want all of them.’

  A morsel of perfection? He leaned against the bench and laughed. ‘You think I have a voracious appetite?’

  She slowly nodded, her baleful, brilliant gaze locked on him. ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘That’s where you’re wrong, my sweet,’ he said lightly and then shot straight to the crux of the matter. ‘I only ever have one bite. One night with a woman.’

  She blinked. ‘Only one night? Wow,’ she muttered in that husky voice. ‘That’s too mean of you. Are you afraid she’ll get bored if you let her stick around for longer?’

  Ash regarded her steadily, masking the adrenalin and anticipation burgeoning inside. Merle Jordan had gone from a mortified, tongue-tied bundle of embarrassment, to a worthy opponent displaying claws and wit and he wanted to see so much more of it from her. ‘I’m not afraid,’ he countered softly. ‘I’m merely protecting her from the inevitable heartbreak.’

  ‘Oh, so it’s chivalry,’ she mock-marvelled, even as she dropped her gaze from his. ‘How heroic of you to save her from yourself.’

  ‘Quite,’ he purred. She was an absolute, intriguing challenge. ‘Now, Ms Jordan.’ He held up one of the single-serve puddings. ‘Are we going to label and lock away what’s mine and label and lock away what’s yours, or are we going to pool resources and share?’

  At that, she gazed back up at him, despite her blushing breathiness. He could see the tremble in her fingers she was trying to hide and he respected the effort it took for her to hold his gaze. He willed her to say whatever pithy thing she was thinking. Because she was definitely thinking and he ached to know what about.

  ‘Exactly what resources are you planning to bring to this party?’ she finally asked.

  Suddenly he had plans. Lots of very good, very pleasurable plans.

  He’d thought he wanted to be alone to face this final goodbye and dispose of his mother’s things. But perhaps, while he was here, alone was the one thing he shouldn’t be. This disapproving woman might be the perfect antidote to take his mind off the mess of emotion this place conjured within. He badly needed distraction from the task he’d been dreading for almost a decade and here she was in bountiful, curvaceous perfection. Maybe he could tempt her out of her prickly shell? He could disarm her stand-offishness, break down her reserve...

  If he got her to deign to talk to him? If he got her to laugh, that would be a bonus point for sure. And if she dined with him that would be a total win. He relished each possible challenge in a game he suddenly ached to play.

  ‘Haven’t you figured it out yet, Merle?’ he teased, assuming full arrogance and amusement. ‘I’ll bring everything you could ever want.’

  CHAPTER THREE

  FIRST THING IN the morning, Merle had shut herself in the study with one of the many boxes from the stacks in the multi-car garage. While she wasn’t contracted to work weekends, given the circumstances it seemed a good way of staying out of sight and out of trouble. The enormous wooden table in the cavernous room was perfect for sorting the mountain of papers and the work would occupy her completely for weeks.

  Unfortunately, the floor-to-ceiling windows spanning the length of the study overlooked not just the gorgeous sea, but also the stunning infinity pool. And Ash Castle had been making the most of that pool for hours.

  Last night he’d said he was here to work, but to Merle it didn’t look as if he was doing anything other than hard-core exercising. He swam length after length. Every so often he emerged to perform push-ups and burpees on the beautifully landscaped deck. Given he was clad in nothing but black swim shorts, it was hard not to notice his lean, muscled strength. But it was his single-minded focus that fascinated her more. Intensely driven, he pushed himself like a man possessed.

  Merle couldn’t stop herself watching, equally impressed and aghast as he brought weights out from the gym and lined up the kettle bells into some sort of terrifying poolside circuit. He seemed determined to exhaust himself—which took a lot of effort because apparently the man was ultra-marathon-fit. Maybe the work he meant was some kind of one-week extreme make-over? Was he was going to be modelling or something? Or did he have some super-hot date next weekend that he wanted to be in peak shape for?

  Merle couldn’t think of anything worse.

  Worse than that, she couldn’t think of anything else. Ash Castle infuriatingly appeared in every thought—her sly mind kept replaying that mortifying moment when he’d walked in on her in his bath. And she kept seeing the wicked laughter in his eyes, the outrageousness in his tone...but the glimpse of tiredness and the fleeting depth of discomfort intrigued her even more. She suspected the man was more complicated than his superficial perfection presented. To make matters even worse she’d actually dreamt about him.

  I’m hungry, Merle.

  His frank admission had meant something else and her suddenly unreliable body had responded so inappropriately.

  Everything you’d ever want.

&
nbsp; She knew he meant sexually. And, as inexperienced as she was, she knew he wasn’t. He’d deliver.

  Annoyed with her basic instinct fixation, Merle pulled more papers from the box, determined to regain her customary indifference to men and the thought of sex in general. Men and Merle didn’t mix. Ever. Actually, people and Merle rarely mixed. It wasn’t surprising; she’d had an unusual childhood—hiding in the wings of her mother’s shows, then suppressed by her strict disciplinarian grandmother who’d never really wanted her, then isolated at school, where her only escape had been hours at second-hand stalls with her quiet grandfather. She’d become even more isolated while caring for him. But now things were going to change and as soon as she’d got herself on a firm financial footing she’d feel braver about moving forward. Getting this job done would help immeasurably. Squaring her shoulders, she focused on the boxes. Ash Castle was a distraction she couldn’t afford.

  It turned out Hugh Castle had been old-school—keeping an extensive collection of everything from business files to correspondence, to orders of service from state functions, to menus from society weddings, to feature articles—mostly about himself. It wasn’t surprising. The man had been massively successful. She labelled each item and inputted the details into the database she’d set up. But she still couldn’t help thinking about his eldest son just outside. Reportedly, the cause of the division between Hugh and Ash had been Ash’s wild lifestyle—all reckless partying and playboy rebellion. But Ash had forged his own success through high finance and venture capital—risky deals that had paid off. He had the gift.

  Of course he did.

  When Hugh died a year ago there’d been speculation regarding who’d inherit the vast estate—the wayward acknowledged son or the illegitimate son Hugh had refused to recognise. Ash had notoriously declined anything and everything to do with his father for years, yet even so it had stunned people to see Leo, the son Hugh had always denied, taking over the management of the flagship property company Castle Holdings.