“Go to bed, Mia,” he said, after a short, throbbing silence.
“Otherwise I might be tempted to ravish you right here and now.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
His night-sky eyes grew even darker, and his voice when he spoke was gravel-rough.
“Don’t play with matches, sweetheart. I’m sorely tempted to finish what we started out by the pool, and one look from you is all it will take to get the flames going again.”
Mia turned for the stairs, forcing herself to go at a dignified pace even though she felt like bolting.
“Good night, little virgin wife of mine,” Bryn said, his tone distinctly mocking.
MELANIE MILBURNE read her first Harlequin novel when she was seventeen and has never looked back. She decided she would settle for nothing less than a tall, dark and handsome hero as her future husband. Well, she’s not only still reading romance, but is writing it as well! And the tall, dark and handsome hero? She fell in love with him on the second date and was secretly engaged to him within six weeks.
Two sons later, they arrived in Hobart, Tasmania—the jewel in the Australian crown. Once their boys were safely in school, Melanie went back to university and received her bachelor’s and master’s degrees.
As part of her final assessment, she conducted a tutorial on the romance genre. As she was reading a paragraph from the novel of a prominent Harlequin author, the door suddenly burst open. The husband that she thought was working was standing there dressed in a tuxedo, his dark brown eyes centered on her startled blue ones. He strode purposefully across the room, hauled Melanie into his arms and kissed her deeply and passionately before setting her back down and leaving without a single word. The lecturer gave Melanie a high distinction and her fellow students gave her jealous glares! And so her pilgrimage into romance writing was set!
Melanie also enjoys long-distance running and is a nationally ranked masters swimmer in Australia. She learned to swim as an adult, so for anyone out there who thinks they can’t do something—you can! Her motto is “Don’t Say I Can’t; Say I Can Try.”
THE VIRGIN’S PRICE
MELANIE MILBURNE
~HIS VIRGIN MISTRESS~
THE VIRGIN’S PRICE
To my sisters, Coralie Margaret McNamara
and Jessie Isobel Bohannon. Thank you
for your love and support over the years.
I love you both very dearly.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER ONE
‘I CAN’T believe he wrote that about me!’ Mia threw the morning’s newspaper down in disgust, her grey eyes flashing with rage. ‘It’s the first real acting job I’ve had and he completely rubbishes it. My career will be over before it even starts.’
‘I wouldn’t take it too personally,’ Shelley said as she reloaded the café dishwasher. ‘Bryn Dwyer rubbishes just about everything. Did you hear him on drive-time radio yesterday? He made a complete fool of the person he was interviewing. It’s how he gets the ratings he does. You either love him or you hate him.’
‘Well, I hate him,’ Mia said with feeling. ‘I just wish I could have the chance to tell him to his arrogant, stuck-up face.’
‘Yeah, well, you never know your luck,’ Shelley said as she placed the washing powder in the compartment of the dishwasher. ‘He was in here three mornings in a row last week, each time with a different woman. You should have seen the way Tony gushed all over him as if he was royalty. I nearly puked.’
‘In here?’ Mia’s eyes began to sparkle with hope. ‘Bryn Dwyer?’
Shelley straightened from the dishwasher. ‘Listen, Mia, just remember you’ve only just started and Tony only gave you the job in the first place because I put in such a good word for you. If you so much as—’
‘One cappuccino and a double decaf latte on table seven.’ Tony Pretelli, the café owner, slapped the order on the counter and scooped up a plate of raisin toast on his way past. ‘And make it snappy. Our favourite celebrity is here again this morning.’
‘Uh-oh,’ Shelley said as she took a quick peek over the counter.
‘Who is it?’ Mia asked as she peered over Shelley’s shoulder. She whistled through her teeth when she caught a glimpse of a tall man with dark brown shiny hair and broad shoulders sitting chatting to an attractive brunette. ‘Well, I’ll be damned.’
Shelley grabbed her by the arm. ‘Don’t even think about it, Mia. You know what Tony’s like. He’ll fire you on the spot if you do anything to upset a customer, celebrity or not.’
Mia unpeeled the waitress’s fingers and, giving her a sugar-sweet smile, reached for the coffees the barista on duty had just made. ‘I think I’ll risk it just this once. Anyway, it will be worth it to get back at that pompous jerk for giving me such a bad review.’
Shelley winced as Mia swept past with the coffees. ‘I don’t think I can watch this…’
Mia sauntered up to the table where Bryn Dwyer was seated with his back to her. It was a very broad back, she couldn’t help noticing, and even though he was wearing a pale blue business shirt she could see the bunching of well-developed muscles through the expensive fabric. His shirt cuffs were rolled up at the wrists, revealing tanned forearms sprinkled with dark masculine hair, and an expensive silver watch on his left wrist. His hair was neither long nor short or straight or curly but somewhere in between, and was styled in a casual manner that suggested his long, tanned fingers had been used as its latest combing tool.
She didn’t need to see his face; it had been splashed on the cover of just about every women’s magazine for the past month as for the second year in a row he had been awarded the Bachelor of the Year title. His prime-time radio slot and popular weekly column in a Sydney broadsheet gave him the sort of fame and fortune most people only ever dreamed of, but even without that, he was a multimillionaire from some clever property investments he’d made all before he’d hit thirty-two or-three years or so ago.
Mia gave her reflection a quick glance in the mirrors above the booth section of the café on her way past, reassuring herself that he couldn’t possibly recognise her from last night’s performance. With her shoulder-length blonde hair scraped back in a high pony-tail and no make-up on she looked just like an ordinary café waitress. She gave a mischievous little smile as she mentally rehearsed an Irish accent; even better—a visiting-from-abroad café waitress.
‘Top of the mornin’ to you both. Now, what do we have here—a cappuccino and a double skinny decaf?’ she lilted cheerily, as she hovered by Bryn’s elbow.
‘Mine is the decaf,’ the brunette woman said with a friendly smile.
Mia reached over to place it in front of her and then turned to the woman’s dark-haired companion, who hadn’t even bothered to acknowledge her presence. ‘And what is it that you will be having, sir?’
‘The cappuccino,’ he said without looking up from the document he was reading.
‘One cappuccino coming up,’ Mia said and proceeded to pour it into his lap.
‘What the hell…?’ Bryn sprang to his feet and tugged the fabric of his trousers away from his lukewarm groin.
‘I’m terribly sorry, how very clumsy of me,’ she said with no trace of sincerity. ‘I’ll get you another one straight away.’
‘I don’t wa
nt another one!’ He glared down at her and then, narrowing his eyes a fraction, asked, ‘Hey, don’t I know you?’
She gave him a vacant look and began to turn away. ‘Sorry, but I think you must be mistaken. I have never met you before.’
‘You’re that girl…’ he stalled her with a very large, very firm hand on her arm ‘…the toilet-paper advertisement, right?’
Mia unhinged his fingers and dusted off her arm, shooting him an imperious look. ‘I’m sorry, but you must have me mistaken for someone else.’
‘I never forget a face and yours is certainly very—’
‘You are fired!’ Tony Pretelli bellowed as he strode towards them. ‘Do you hear me, Mia Forrester? F.I.R.E.D. Fired. Now. Right now as of this very minute.’
‘Mia Forrester?’ Bryn frowned.
‘Sorry, Mr Pretelli,’ Mia said, momentarily forgetting to employ her Irish accent. ‘I didn’t mean to do it. It just slipped out of my hands.’
‘I saw you, Mia; it didn’t just slip out of your hands. You poured it on the poor man! Get your things and leave immediately,’ Tony snarled at her and then, turning to Bryn, softened his tone to an obsequious level. ‘Please accept my sincere apologies for the appalling behaviour of my staff—er—ex-staff member. I will see to it that she personally pays for the damage to your trousers. I’ll organise another coffee for you immediately, and can I tempt you with a slice of our house speciality? It’s a tiramisu and absolutely delicious—on the house, of course.’
‘No, thank you,’ Bryn said with a cool little on-off smile.
Typical. Mia gave a little snort. He looks down his nose at everybody. What a pompous jerk.
‘But I would like a private word with your—er—ex-staff member,’ Bryn added, training his dark blue gaze on her.
Mia’s eyes widened in alarm and she started to step backwards. ‘But I’m just leaving…’
‘Not so fast, Miss Forrester,’ he said, capturing her arm once more, his long fingers like a vice around her slim wrist. ‘I’m sure your ex-employer won’t mind if you humour me for a moment or two.’
Mia looked to Tony for help but he was already on his way back to the kitchen, shouting out another order from table five.
‘I think I’ll leave you to it,’ the brunette woman said to Bryn before sending Mia a pleasant smile. ‘I’m Annabelle Heyward, by the way, Miss Forrester. I’m Bryn Dwyer’s publicist.’
‘Poor you,’ Mia muttered not quite under her breath as she took the older woman’s hand with her free one. ‘But I’m pleased to meet you. I’m sure you’re a very nice person despite the company you keep.’
‘Excuse me?’ Bryn’s dark brows met over his eyes.
‘I’ll call you later with the latest ratings, Bryn.’ Annabelle gave him a little wave as she left the café, her eyes twinkling in amusement.
‘Please let go of my arm,’ Mia said through clenched teeth. ‘Everyone is watching.’
‘I don’t care who is watching.’ He glowered down at her darkly. ‘I’d like to know why you think you can get away with tossing a cup of coffee in my lap.’
‘I didn’t get away with it,’ she pointed out with a pert tilt of her chin. ‘I got fired, remember?’
‘And so you deserved to be. What the hell is the matter with you? What have I ever done to you, for God’s sake?’
‘How can you ask that?’ she spat back, wrenching her arm from his, rubbing at her wrist where his fingers had been. ‘Not only have I been fired from here, but I’m also sure I’m going to be dropped from Peach Pie Productions because of what you wrote in this morning’s paper. It was my first real live theatre performance and you ruined it. The principal actor was sick and the director asked me to fill in for her and now my career is going to be finished because of you and your stupid opinion, which I’m sure is completely biased and—’
‘Oh, that Mia Forrester,’ he said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
Mia stared at him in outrage. What did he mean, that Mia Forrester?
‘So you got a bad review,’ he said dismissively. ‘Get over it.’
‘Get over it?’ She stepped closer and jabbed him in the chest with her index finger. ‘How about you get over this? You are the most arrogant, opinionated, chauvinistic smart alec I’ve ever met. You think you can say whatever you like or indeed write whatever insults you like but I am not going to allow you to get away with it. You have definitely picked the wrong person this time to make fun of. If I lose my understudy job over this, you are going to be very sorry. I will make sure of it.’
Bryn looked down at the little spitfire in front of him with increasing interest. When was the last time anyone had told him off, he wondered, really told him off, no-holds-barred? Most people—particularly women—bowed and scraped to his every whim, but she was something else again. She was all flashing grey eyes and swinging blonde pony-tail, looking more like a schoolgirl than the seductress she’d played so appallingly last night in Theodore Frankston’s new play.
‘You should stick to toilet-paper ads,’ he said. ‘Or have you ever thought about a career change?’
‘Have you ever thought about a personality change?’ she tossed back, her eyes like twin diamonds of sparkling fury.
Bryn suppressed a smile as he let his gaze run over her lazily. She had a neat figure, very trimmed and toned, and her skin had a healthy glow to it as if she was well used to outdoor activity. She wore no make-up but she had a fresh-faced beauty that was totally captivating. He couldn’t help thinking she might be just the type of girl his great-aunt Agnes would approve of. It would be the perfect solution to a problem that had been worrying him for quite some time.
‘Listen, Miss Forrester.’ He took her to one side out of the way of the hearing of table six. ‘I’m sorry you’ve lost your job here, but really, what’s a talented actress like you doing in a place like this?’
She scowled at him. ‘You didn’t call me talented in your article this morning. You said, and I quote: “A pathetic attempt at portraying a femme fatale from a clearly inexperienced actress.” Isn’t that what you said?’
‘It might have run something along those lines.’
‘What?’ She eyeballed him in fury. ‘You don’t even remember what you wrote about me?’
‘Look.’ He dragged a hand through his hair. ‘I had a deadline to meet and I’d been out and it was late…’
‘Are you telling me you were drunk when you wrote that column?’
‘Of course not.’ He glanced around to make sure no one had heard her fiery accusation. ‘Will you keep your voice down? I can do without bad publicity right now.’
Mia straightened to her full height which still left her at a distinct disadvantage to his six-feet-three. ‘Do you think I give a damn about your career when you’ve so cavalierly destroyed mine?’
He compressed his lips for a moment. ‘Look, I’ll strike a little deal with you.’ He took out a business card and handed it to her. ‘If you’re dropped from the play, give me a call and I’ll try and find some other work for you. OK?’
Mia tore the card into tiny pieces and, stepping on her tiptoes, reached to where his top button was undone and stuffed the pieces down his shirt. ‘Thanks but no thanks,’ she said crisply. ‘And I’m going to tell all my friends not to listen to your radio programme ever again. And let me tell you I have a lot of friends.’
Bryn watched her flounce back to the kitchen, where, after a short interchange with one of the other waitresses, she scooped up a shoulder bag and left via a rear entrance, her pony-tail still swinging in fury.
He looked down at the neck of his shirt where the sharp little edges were digging into his skin and smiled.
Yes, Great-Aunt Agnes would most definitely approve.
He reached for his mobile and pressed in a few numbers. ‘Annabelle, can you text me Theodore Frankston’s number and the name and number of Mia Forrester’s current agent?’
‘What are you up to, Bryn?’ Annabelle’s tone was
full of suspicion.
He waited until he was outside the café before responding. ‘Listen, Annabelle, I’ve got a plan. You know how you said I needed to improve my image to encourage more female listeners? Well, this is a perfect way to do it.’
Annabelle gave a groan. ‘This isn’t another one of those publicity stunts that will make me cringe, is it? I really don’t think I can cope with the fallout if you get involved with yet another married woman.’
‘No, this isn’t anything like that. And by the way Summer Riley was divorced, or as good as.’
‘She was a slut, Bryn, and for the whole time you were involved with her your ratings slipped to an all-time low. Female listeners fell away in droves and we still haven’t got them all back.’
‘But that’s exactly my point,’ Bryn said. ‘If I play my cards right with this I could overhaul my image within a matter of days. Think about it. What could be better right now than me having a whirlwind romance with a struggling actress I’ve just savaged in the Press? Women will love it. It’s got that whole love-hate chemistry just like a Hollywood movie.’
‘I can’t believe I’m hearing this,’ Annabelle muttered.
‘No, listen, Annabelle,’ he insisted. ‘Women all over Sydney will tune in to hear how our relationship is going. It’s perfect!’
‘And how exactly are you going to convince Mia Forrester to have a relationship with you? Last time I looked you were wearing the cappuccino she tossed in your lap,’ Annabelle pointed out with more than a hint of dryness.
‘I have a strategy in mind that I think will do the trick. Text me those numbers as soon as you track them down. Ciao.’
The Virgin's Price Page 1