Fiona Harper

by Saying Yes to the Millionaire [HR-4031, MNR-129, A Bride for All Seasons 02] (lit)

  This was better. He was her guardian again now, her protector. Things were shifting back on to an even keel. Only, as she relaxed against him, nestled her head against his shoulder, things began to go wrong. He realised that he very badly wanted to kiss her, wanted to reach across and tip her face upwards so he could taste those ripe pink lips.

  His hormones were staging a coup and he was powerless to stop them. Fern moved and he caught a waft of her fresh floral perfume as she raised her head to look at him. Her eyes were wide and glistening. She was so fresh, so pretty. He knew he shouldn’t, but he just couldn’t stop himself. His gaze drifted down to her lips again.

  Big mistake.

  Magnetically, he was drawn to them, closer and closer until skin met skin, warm and pliant. She tasted so good, of sweet fruit punch and something more. Heaven help him, he couldn’t prevent himself from exploring those lips. At first he was only aware of the slight hesitant response, but after a few seconds she began to kiss him back and he held her tighter and pressed her back against the bark of the tree, exploring the skin of her face, neck and shoulders with the tips of his fingers. Never had he imagined that sweet, fragile little Fern could ignite such a fire within him.

  He felt her breath catch rather than heard it and she wound her arms around his neck, her fingers teasing the short hairs at the nape of his neck.

  The fire that had been slowly spreading in him turned into an inferno. Suddenly, he knew he wanted to do a lot more than just kiss sweet, innocent Fern, and the thought scared the hell out of him.

  She was too young—way too young—and he was due at university in only a month. He couldn’t offer her what she wanted. It wasn’t fair to even try.

  He gently cupped her face in his hands and pulled away, even though every cell in his body protested. As she came into focus, he saw her eyelids flutter open and knew from the look in her eyes that if he went further down this road she was going to fall for him. Hard.

  It was there in the sweet sparkle of hope in her eyes. A tiny part of him leapt for joy, but he squashed it down fiercely. What a blind idiot he’d been not to recognise it before. She had a crush on him. Had done for years. Before now he’d never been able to put a name to that blush, that sparkle, until it had intensified to the level it was tonight and he’d recognised it for what it was.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  He stepped back but held on to her hand. Now was the time to be really, really careful. He had to let her down gently; she was way too special to play with.

  He tried to smile naturally and hoped he didn’t look as tense and awkward as he felt. ‘Fern,’ he began, then looked away briefly before connecting his gaze with hers again. ‘We need to talk.’

  She woke up with a start, her breath coming in gasps. She didn’t sit up, too scared of waking Josh, who was curled behind her. He’d ask questions. He’d want to know why she was crying.

  Damn. She swept away the tears with an angry hand and tried to regulate the rhythm of her lungs. It was that stupid dream. Every now and then she’d have it and be transported back to that toe-curlingly embarrassing moment. The party. That stupid dress. Her own foolish teenage expectations.

  She’d offered herself to Josh on a plate and he’d said, Thanks, but no, thanks, and walked off to university, never once looking back. It had been more than a decade ago and, in her waking life, nothing more than something to chalk up to experience, make a note of and move on. But, somehow, her subconscious just wasn’t willing to let it go.

  She exhaled and made the breath last for a count of ten. Her heart rate was slowing now, but the emotions of the dream were still pulsating in the air around her, making her feel as raw as a jilted sixteen-year-old.

  Let’s think about this logically. She was probably only having the dream because she was spending time with Josh. Something had pushed some long-forgotten emotional buttons.

  Her arm was going numb and she shifted on to her other side, only to discover she was almost nose to nose with him. She shuffled again so her back was in contact with the mattress and stared at the long shadows on the rough-lit ceiling. He stirred and she held her breath, not ready for him to wake up yet. She needed time to sort out the tangled mess of her thoughts before she looked into those melting brown eyes.

  She’d been half kidding herself, hadn’t she? Half pretending that there was a little bit of chemistry flitting between her and Josh, when in reality she knew that it was totally a one-way street. And she still had more than two days to go, being in his company every waking moment. Great plan, Fern! That will really help you move on.

  Suddenly, something clicked inside her. Maybe it could be good. Maybe this was the perfect way to get some closure. By the time the treasure hunt finished, she might have found a way to shift the relationship back on to an entirely platonic track, back to when she’d been—she grimaced in the dark—about nine years old. Crumbs, had she really been infatuated with him for that long? Maybe even that was being optimistic. She’d had a severe case of hero worship even before that.

  No, the next couple of days were going to be about finding a new foundation for her relationship with Josh. One where they were both adults. Equals. Where one of them was definitely over the hormone-induced roller coaster of teenage crushes. And it was about time she bucked her ideas up. In the last twenty-four hours she’d been guilty of letting her guard down, allowing him to get to her again.

  Maybe the dream had been a timely warning from her subconscious. Don’t go there. Keep off. Danger.

  It was time to build the barriers back up—defences so solid and sure that even a pair of warm chocolate eyes with a hint of zap couldn’t melt them.

  Suddenly everything went dark. Fern gingerly pressed her fingertips to the outside of the blindfold that now covered her eyes.

  Now her vision was reduced to nothing, the damp, dark smell of the caves intensified. She could hear Josh grinning beside her as his own blindfold was fixed in place. Don’t ask her how she could hear something like that; she just could.

  ‘This way.’

  The treasure hunt marshal must have taken hold of Josh’s hand, because the fingers that threaded themselves through hers were definitely his. She gripped on to them as they started to move and flung her other arm wide in an attempt to find the moist, rough chalk wall to her left.

  As the guide led them through the network of caves to the starting point for the next leg of the treasure hunt, she tried to memorise the directions and number of turns they took, paying attention to the points where her fingers drifted past nothing but cold air, indicating the presence of another passage.

  It wasn’t easy to concentrate. Each of the remaining thirty teams were being led to exactly the same destination, five at a time, and the noise of footsteps, stumbles and not-too-hushed swearing threatened to dislodge the sequence of directions carefully ordered in her short-term memory.

  She tried to remember specific places—anchor points—certain turns in the route, changes in the texture of the floor under her trainers. Josh started whistling and she gave a frustrated tug on his arm to shut him up. It was not helping.

  After a short while all the teams were assembled in a section of damp corridor. A treasure hunt marshal hushed them and spoke loudly above the lingering whispers. ‘The first ten teams to arrive last night will start first and, fifteen minutes behind them, the next ten teams, and so on. You will all be receiving a map of the caves shortly—’ Fern heard the rustle of paper as someone else walked along the row and she thrust out her hand to grab a sheet. ‘When you hear the first whistle, the first group of teams must remove their blindfolds and navigate their way back to the entrance, where they will find the next clue. Is everybody clear?’

  There was a general murmuring and Fern nodded, aware that her heart-rate had just skipped up a notch. She was just about to take a deep preparatory breath when the whistle blew. She gulped the air in quickly and her fingers worked at the knot behind her head. Once it had loosened, she s
lipped it backwards over her head and stared at the map, blinking rapidly. Shapes and lines danced in front of her eyes and settled into more regular patterns. It was impossible to work out where they were on the map. All the square tunnels looked the same. They needed to find a feature—an unusual intersection or a dead end—to help them get their bearings.

  Josh let go of her hand to deal with his blindfold. ‘What do you reckon?’ he asked, pausing to glance sideways as a couple of other teams dashed off in different directions.

  She looked long and hard at an opening to their left, sure they’d been led to this section of tunnel from that direction. It was all Josh needed. Within seconds he was running and she followed him, warm with the knowledge that he trusted her—trusted her instincts.

  Almost immediately, they came to another intersection. She worked back through the series of memorised directions in her head. The turn before that one had been a right turn, so they would have to go…

  ‘Left,’ she said and they were off again. They continued in a similar manner for a few minutes and she felt her confidence growing. Every now and then she would shut her eyes and silently mouth the memorised sequence before heading off in a new direction.

  ‘Have you noticed something?’ She kept her voice low, wary of being overheard for some reason.

  Josh stopped jogging and turned to face her. ‘What?’

  ‘When we first started going we kept bumping into the other teams. We haven’t seen anyone else for a couple of minutes.’ She felt her smile spreading her lips even as she spoke. ‘That could mean we’ve maintained our lead and—’

  They both stopped running. Twenty people, all wearing red T-shirts and blindfolds blocked their way. She and Josh were right back where they’d started. Somewhere along the line she must have got confused. She looked in desperation at Josh.

  ‘Never mind.’ He tugged her back in the direction they’d taken the first time.

  ‘But that isn’t the right way!’

  ‘It was one wrong turn, Fern. I think you were right up to a point, but a couple of wrong choices near the end got us confused.’

  She jogged behind Josh as he retraced their steps and scanned the map to see where she’d gone wrong. There had been one point where she hadn’t been quite sure…

  When they reached the same spot again, she stopped to consider the options: left, right or straight on. Josh only took a second to make up his mind and headed left.

  ‘Josh! Wait! What are you doing?’

  ‘I’m going this way. I’ve got a feeling.’

  ‘No!’ That was the way they’d gone last time. They’d be going in circles if they repeated their earlier decision.

  ‘Go with the flow, Fern.’

  She chewed her lip for a moment. ‘Okay. If we are going to flow anywhere, then let’s flow this way.’ She pointed in the opposite direction. The floor of the cave was harder there, like petrified ripples of sand. She was sure she’d felt some of that beneath her rubber soles when she’d been blindfolded.

  However, a few minutes later she heard a whistle blow in an adjoining passageway and suddenly they had to press themselves against the wall to avoid being mown down by the second group of teams as they fanned out, looking for the exit. Back to the start again?

  Adrenaline surged through her. And not in a good way. Her brain pounded against her skull and the list of directions stored there was jostled out of order.

  Josh gave her a rueful grin. ‘Third time lucky.’ He shrugged, then set off the way they’d gone twice before. Fern slapped her forehead with her palm and, without stopping to let herself feel it stinging, she ran after him.

  This time, when they reached the infernal crossroads again, Josh didn’t hesitate, he went left and she had no choice but to follow him.

  ‘Trust me,’ he yelled, without looking back. ‘I’ve got a feeling.’

  Yes, well, feelings were all well and good when you didn’t have treasure to find. Feelings weren’t going to get them out of these caves. Feelings were generally getting her into trouble at the moment. What they needed were cold, hard facts. Something to tie them firmly to the ground.

  Josh didn’t slow his pace for the next few moments and it was all she could do to keep up with him. Then, suddenly, the air grew sweeter, cleaner, and the honeycomb of identical tunnels opened out into the large area they’d used as a dining room last night.

  It had worked! Somehow Josh’s feeling had led them to the entrance of the caves.

  She frowned as they reached the small table near the ticket office with the next clues laid out on it. A quick count revealed only fifteen left. That meant they’d lost their lead completely and were now halfway down the pack.

  Josh kneaded her shoulders while she tore open the envelope.

  ‘What can I say?’ he said. ‘Sometimes you’ve just got to trust your instincts.’

  ‘No! No way.’ Fern shook her head and planted her hands firmly on her hips.

  ‘You can’t say no!’

  Fern’s ponytail was still swinging gently from side to side, an echo of her vehement refusal. This was probably not a good sign, Josh decided.

  ‘You’re not really going to back out now, are you?’

  ‘Yes?’

  There was a glint of regret in her eyes and he knew he was in with a chance of making her change her mind. She dropped her backpack on to the cobblestone pavement and sat on top of it.

  He could hardly believe this was the same woman that he’d seen dive off a crane less than forty-eight hours ago. He thought there’d been a dramatic change in her when he’d spotted her ready to bungee jump, but she hadn’t changed, not really. She was still the same sensible Fern she’d always been. Then he had a memory flash—Fern clinging to a narrow plank walkway in an adventure playground fifteen feet above the muddy floor, terrified out of her wits but determined to prove to Ryan that she wasn’t a scaredy cat.

  Back then, aged twelve, he’d laughed and called her chicken. Well, twelve-year-old boys weren’t known for their ability to empathise, were they? Back then, he hadn’t understood how hard it had been for her, trailing round after two boys who knew no fear. He’d walked that plank hundreds of times, never giving it a second thought.

  But now he looked back over the years and realised she’d always had that brave, determined streak. And it was why he’d made time for Ryan’s supposedly ‘annoying’ little sister. If he thought about it hard, he might have to admit that she had more guts than he did. Flinging himself off the top of high things or swirling through white-water rapids came easily to him. The bottom line was he just wasn’t scared. But Fern…

  A noise that was half whimper, half sigh escaped from the hunched up figure beside him. He smiled, not at pleasure from her inner torment, but because he knew she was going to do it. Because that was the kind of woman she was.

  Woman. He didn’t think he’d mentally applied that word to her before. He’d always vaguely labelled her as a ‘girl’. But it’d been a long while since they’d spent any kind of quality time together, years even. And he was starting to see all sorts of things about Fern that he’d been blind to before.

  Fern tightened her already dissolving ponytail with a quick tug, then stood up. ‘Okay, let’s get the show on the road. What are we going to do?’

  ‘I could juggle. That worked quite well yesterday.’

  Fern shook her head. Josh’s haphazard juggling skills weren’t going to help in this challenge. They were standing in Covent Garden, one of London’s hippest places to hang out in the summer. The old market square was filled to the brim with coffee shops, restaurants and fashionable boutiques.

  The clue they’d got at the caves had instructed them to perform a task. Once again they had to earn money to help them fund their way through the race. And this time the organisers were upping the stakes.

  Today they had to—not sing for their supper—but busk for their breakfast. Although it was early, there were already a number of street artists working
the crowd. On the other side of the square a man dressed head to toe in silver juggled kitchen knives and flaming torches. No, Josh’s fruit tricks definitely weren’t going to cut the mustard here.

  When she turned to him, he was looking over in the same direction. He nodded despondently. ‘We’re going to have to sing, aren’t we?’

  ‘Sing?’ Her voice came out all scratchy and high. ‘With no music or anything?’

  ‘What else can we do?’

  ‘But neither of us can hold a tune. My family even actively ban me from joining in with the carols at Christmas because I murder them.’

  He looked at her and gave her a slow smile that melted her insides. ‘There is that.’

  She scanned the area and noticed a few other red Secret London T-shirts scattered throughout the market square. ‘What do you think the other teams are going to do?’