For Love or Money Bundle (Harlequin Presents)

by Sarah Morgan

  ‘Okay,’ she said on a resigned sigh. ‘You’ve got one minute. Why are you here? What do you want?’

  ‘I want you to come to dinner with me.’

  Her skin goosebumped at the unexpected invitation. Dinner. It was a harmless enough concept, so why did she feel as if she herself was on the menu? After how close they’d come at the ball, would he be expecting her to move from the dining room to the bedroom with no hesitation? And would he be right? She bit down on her lip. Whatever her reservations, whatever her sense that there was more to this man than he revealed, the thought of following through on what she’d missed out on was more than tempting.

  She’d certainly thought about it quite enough in the intervening days since the party—thought about what it would have been like to make love to this man, what it would have felt like to have him inside her. Would the reality come anywhere near the fantasy? Or would the real man surpass the man in her dreams?

  She sucked in air, clamping down on her desires and on the spreading warmth between her thighs. It couldn’t happen. She’d had a fortunate escape once already. She’d almost made a total fool of herself and only just saved herself from certain humiliation. She couldn’t expect her luck to hold out a second time.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, reaching past him for the handle to pull closed her door. ‘I’m busy tonight.’ Washing my hair.

  ‘Then make it tomorrow night.’

  She swallowed. ‘I really don’t think that’s such a good idea. I’m sorry you’ve wasted your time.’

  He didn’t take the hint, instead remaining exactly where he was. ‘My minute isn’t up yet. And I think you really do want to accept my invitation.’

  ‘Why on earth would I want to do that?’ she snapped, her patience worn thin.

  ‘Because it’s attached to a one-million-dollar donation to the foundation—that’s why.’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  THE disbelief must have been evident in her eyes even as her hand dropped from the door. Benefactors on such a scale were notoriously thin on the ground. They didn’t usually just fall into your lap like a ripe peach, without a great deal of time and effort spent shaking the tree. One million dollars. That kind of money would give a mighty kickstart to the foundation’s new overseas children’s assistance programme. And he was offering the foundation that just to eat with him!

  Or was he?

  ‘Let me get this straight—you’ll give one million dollars to the foundation and all I have to do is have dinner with you?’

  ‘As simple as that.’

  Nothing was that simple. Not in this town. She raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Are you trying to buy me, Mr Demakis?’

  ‘I said you could call me Loukas.’

  ‘You haven’t answered my question.’

  ‘I’m trying to make a contribution to the wonderful work of your foundation. Nothing more.’

  ‘So this isn’t some underhanded way of finishing what you started Saturday night?’

  His head tilted, his eyebrows rising in speculation.

  ‘Is that what you’re hoping?’

  Breath lurched inwards through her teeth, and she could only hope her cheeks weren’t betraying the sudden rush of heat to her skin. ‘I think you misunderstand me. I just need us both to be clear on this. I’m not interested in taking your money if there are certain strings attached.’

  He paused a moment. ‘Do you really think I would pay one million dollars for what I could have had for free?’

  Her eyelids fell shut as his words doused her in a cold dose of reality. Of course he was right. Why would he imagine he’d have to pay that kind of money for her? She’d shown how cheaply she could be bought when she’d been right there in that room with him.

  Her eyes started open at the touch of his fingers as they drew her chin around to face him. ‘You shouldn’t take that the wrong way,’ he said.

  Heart thumping wildly in her chest, she searched his brown eyes for meaning. What other way was there to take his words? But she didn’t have to say a thing. She knew the question was right there in her eyes.

  ‘When you make love to me,’ he said, his voice washing over her like rich velvet, ‘it won’t be because I have to pay you. It will be because you want to.’

  She swallowed, her mind battling to grab hold of logic and rationality in the sea of foaming sensation bubbling inside.

  ‘When you make love to me’ he’d said. Not if.

  Part of her wanted to argue—who was this man to presume to know what she wanted?—while another part of her recognised the simple truth at the core of his assertion. Because there was something about this man—something that drew her closer and more intensely than any man she’d ever met. And whether it was merely lust or a powerful attraction or something else that was driving her thoughts, simply knowing that eventually, ultimately, they would make love gave her flesh a shivery tingle of anticipation.

  At last she managed to unknot her tongue enough to respond. ‘You sound very sure of yourself, Mr Demakis.’

  ‘Oh,’ he said, holding her chin steady as he angled himself closer, ‘it’s not just me I’m sure about.’

  His lips met hers in more of a tingle than a meeting of flesh. He was there, barely touching, so she could sense his contact rather than feel it. His low breathing fanning her face, mingling with hers. And waiting for more was like exquisite torture.

  Her earlier weariness was shrugged off. Every part of her now felt alive, sparkling, special. And when his lips brushed over hers and closed that final millimetre she knew why she’d felt lucky to have escaped Loukas’s influence before. Because she didn’t think she could escape if she tried. Even worse, she knew she wouldn’t try to. Because right now there was nowhere she’d rather be.

  If there was such a thing as a perfect fit, she was sure she’d found it. His lips wove sweet magic over hers in a tender caress that felt as if it was made for her and her alone. She heard a noise, a strangely foreign sigh that sounded like someone slipping into ecstasy, only to register with surprise that it had come from her. She was the one slipping away.

  And then all of a sudden his lips were withdrawing, and she knew that whatever arguments she put up about not wanting to sleep with him would be rendered completely useless after that kiss. No matter what she said, what she claimed to the contrary, there was no way he wouldn’t know she was completely and utterly his for the taking. There was no way he wouldn’t know it was only a matter of time.

  She opened her eyes hesitantly, unsteadily, almost afraid to meet his eyes because of how they might look—smug?—victorious?

  But his hand continued to cup her chin, and there was no option but to raise her lashes and look up at him. What she saw there was even more disconcerting than his kiss. Because there was arrogance, there was even a kind of victory, but there was confusion and questions too—questions that swirled and eddied and muddied the depths of those brown eyes, questions that she couldn’t begin to understand, let alone answer.

  Yet there was one question she could answer—right now.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, running her tongue over her lips, tasting the essence of him on her skin.

  His brows pulled together. ‘Yes what?’

  ‘Yes.’ To anything you want. ‘If it means one million dollars for the foundation, I’ll have dinner with you.’

  ‘I don’t know, Grace. I can’t put my finger on what it is that’s bothering me, but it doesn’t seem right somehow.’ Jade stopped pacing the living room long enough to rest her hands on the back of one of the soft peach-coloured sofas while Grace sat opposite, sipping on her post-supper coffee.

  Ever since she’d become aware Grace had arrived home from the clinic, Jade had been itching to talk to her about Loukas and his planned contribution. After their friction today she’d wanted to share the good news—although now she wasn’t so sure it was good news.

  At least, not for her.

  ‘You can’t be having second thoughts,’
said Grace practically. ‘You’ve already told him you’d go.’

  Jade looked down at her hands, steadily working indentations into the soft leather. ‘I could always tell him I made a mistake—that I’ve changed my mind. Maybe he’ll give the money anyway.’

  ‘Change your mind and risk losing me one million dollars? No, you will not! You’ll go to dinner like you agreed.’

  Jade looked up suddenly. ‘It’s not for you, Grace, it’s for the foundation.’

  ‘Ah, but,’ she said, replacing her drained bone china cup onto its saucer with barely a click, ‘who is it who supports the foundation if there are insufficient funds? The clinic.’ She pointed one tapered red fingernail at her chest. ‘Meaning me.’

  ‘But the foundation has plenty of capital. The Gala alone must have set us up for two years of operation. I can’t see you having to bail it out any time soon.’

  Grace held up one hand. ‘All the same, Jade, if something does happen, it’s me who will have to foot the bill. That million dollars will be a welcome buffer, given the clinic has had a few unforeseen expenses lately.’

  Jade’s ears pricked up. ‘You haven’t mentioned this before. What kind of expenses?’

  ‘Oh, I wasn’t going to bother you with any of this. They’re just annoying little things, really—one or two little cases. Someone who wants to sue me in some ridiculous claim to do with their surgery, somebody else claiming negligence—and the lawyers want me to go for settlements.’

  ‘More cases?’ Jade side-stepped the sofa and sat down alongside Grace. ‘Oh, how awful for you. They must think you’re an easy target. Maybe just for once you should go to court—fight them this time. It can’t be good if you always settle—people will learn to expect a pay-out for everything.’

  Grace patted her hand. ‘Thank you. I insisted we fight too! But the lawyers think it’s best to keep everything as quiet as possible. They don’t want the clinic brought up in court—they think it would be bad publicity all round.’ She shrugged. ‘And, seeing they’re the experts, I can’t really argue with them.’

  ‘But if it means always shelling out money to make these people go away, how long can you continue doing business that way? And what will it mean for the expansion plans for the clinic? Will they still go ahead?’

  ‘Oh, yes. But only with the Mayor’s help. He’s agreed to take over the building contract and give us a good deal. I’m just so lucky he’s standing by me through all of this. I really don’t know what I’d do without him.’

  Every muscle and organ inside Jade seemed to clench and roll at the mention of that word. Why couldn’t he just leave Grace alone? She was going to end up hurt, and badly, when she found out what the Mayor was really like. And now she was tying herself to him for a year or more while the contract works were carried out.

  Grace would have to discover the truth for herself at some stage. Or was Jade going to have to tell her?

  ‘Maybe you should put it off for a while?’ Jade suggested tentatively. ‘Maybe wait until these cases are cleared up and out the way before you commit to any more expenditure.’ And to the Mayor.

  ‘Oh, there’s no need for that. It’s all organised—the Mayor’s taken care of all that. Now, before I head off to bath and bed, I want to know—you are going to that dinner tomorrow night?’

  She sighed. ‘I don’t know, Grace. I’m not even sure I believe him. If he’d wanted to give the foundation a cheque for so much money, why didn’t he tell us at the Gala? We could have announced it then and there. Why wait until afterwards?’

  Grace shrugged as she stood up. ‘If he’s willing to donate that much money, let him set the conditions. It’s only dinner after all.’ She looked down, her eyes shrewd, to where the younger woman was still sitting. ‘Or do you think he expects more for his money than just dinner? Are you worried he wants to sleep with you?’

  Jade felt herself colour. Not so much because of the question but more at Loukas’s words, playing over and over in her mind in stark and brutal relief. Do you really think I would pay one million dollars for what I could have had for free?

  She swallowed, dropping her eyes. ‘He assured me it was just dinner.’

  ‘Then you have nothing at all to worry about. And, let’s face it, it’s only if he expects you to take your clothes off and he sees your scars that you have a problem. We don’t want him asking for his money back, do we?’

  ‘Do you miss your home?’

  Jade sipped on her margarita and stared out through the windows of the restaurant at the end of the pier, down past the fair rides and stalls to the row of lights marking out the Santa Monica Bay shoreline.

  When she’d agreed to dinner she’d never expected Loukas to bring her to a place like this—so relaxed and unpretentious. She was glad he had—the casual surroundings and the margarita had woven a mellow spell over her, making it easier to talk. At least until he’d asked her about her home.

  Her eyes followed the line of lights down the coast to where they disappeared into the sea mist and the smog. It was so different here compared to the small rural town of Yarrabee where she’d grown up—five hours and a world away from Sydney and the sea, where everything and everyone, the crops, the livestock, even life itself, seemed ruled by the seasons and the weather.

  Unless you didn’t fit in.

  Then your life revolved around avoiding people, staring at the ground and, just like everyone else around you, wishing you’d never been born.

  Absence was supposed to make the heart grow fonder but even after her self-imposed exile it was impossible to conjure up any feelings of sentiment for the place. Yarrabee had made her feel like an outcast from the beginning. And now just thinking about Yarrabee left her cold. Because how could a place that had never wanted you ever be considered your home?

  Even Sydney, to where she’d escaped at last for medical school, didn’t feel like home to her now. Maybe because there was no one waiting for her back there. No one she’d left behind.

  She looked around, saw Loukas staring, waiting for her reply.

  ‘Miss home? Not really,’ she admitted, brightening her smile with more warmth than she felt. ‘I’ve swapped Aussie sunshine for the Californian variety. I’ve made my home here now, and I’m happy with that decision.’

  As easily as that! Did she realise how her smoothly delivered words condemned her, reminding him in no uncertain terms just what kind of woman she was? She’d transplanted herself smack-bang into a lucrative industry in the most body-conscious city in North America. Didn’t she have any feelings for those she must have left behind? What kind of woman was she?

  ‘What about your family?’ he insisted, thinking of his father and how even now that Olympia was married he still wanted to control her life and keep her safe. ‘How do they feel about you being so far away?’

  She shook her head. ‘I guess I’m lucky in that respect. I don’t have any family to worry about.’

  For the first time he felt there was more to her easy dismissal of her homeland than she’d let on. Not having a family seemed a strange thing to consider yourself lucky about.

  ‘What happened to them?’

  She screwed up her face and sat back in her chair. ‘Look, you don’t want to hear all this. It’s history.’

  ‘Humour me.’

  She blinked and looked at him, her blue eyes clearly weighing up whether or not to talk. In the end she took a deep gulp of air and shrugged, almost as if telling him that he’d asked for it. ‘There’s not a lot to it. My mother died when I was born. All I know of her I’ve learned from photographs.’

  ‘She must have been very beautiful.’

  A bright smile lit up her face, so brilliant and yet so brief. But he could tell from her eyes that the smile wasn’t directed at him. She was looking inwards, remembering. ‘Would you believe,’ she said, ‘she was actually Miss Yarrabee Showgirl the year she turned seventeen?’

  ‘Yeah,’ he said, acknowledging that, whatever cosmetic sur
gery Jade had been treated to while at the Della-Bosca Clinic, she must have started out with some pretty decent genes in the first place. ‘I’d believe it. And I’d believe it more if you told me you’d followed suit.’

  Her smile faded and she blinked as her focus briefly settled back on him before she let her gaze fall to the table. And when her voice came it was as if her words were hidden by shadows, heavy with ghosts.

  ‘No, I never entered.’

  He watched her study her margarita as she swirled the contents around the glass, tickling the salt-encrusted rim, slowly dissolving it. Before the past had intervened in her thoughts her face had shone with an unparalleled brilliance. What would it take for her to direct that dazzling smile onto him and mean it? Could you seduce someone into smiling like that? He was aching to try. But she was in the mood to talk, and anything she told him was going to help his cause.

  ‘So how old were you when your father died?’

  ‘Heaps older, thankfully. Fifteen.’

  ‘How did it happen?’

  She nodded matter-of-factly, obviously having anticipated his question. ‘We had a small spread outside Yarrabee. One night he didn’t come home for dinner and I went looking for him. I thought maybe the old tractor had broken down again—he was always complaining that he’d have to get a decent one some time, but we could never quite afford it.’

  She paused, her gaze fixed on a point somewhere out on the horizon.

  ‘You found him?’

  She nodded, bringing her blank gaze back down to her drink.

  ‘The tractor had rolled down an embankment. Dad was pinned underneath. He was still alive when I found him. He could talk—told me it didn’t hurt too badly and to go get help. I told him it would be all right. I told him to hang on while I ran to get help and I’d be back as soon as I could. He told me he’d hang on…’