The Millionaire's Virgin (Mills & Boon By Request)

by Susan Stephens

  Zoe gave a long, long sigh of pure satisfaction. The bells pealed out joyously, celebrating life and victory and morning. A wide schoolgirl grin started behind her eyelids.

  ‘Too right,’ she told the bells, eyes still closed, savouring the triumph that was her life.

  She opened her eyes and sat up, stretching her arms exuberantly above her head.

  ‘Today is the first day of the rest of my life. Look out world!’

  And it was so easy.

  Thanks to Jay. She would never have screwed her courage to the sticking point if he hadn’t held her to it. She owed him, big time. She had to tell him. She turned—

  That was when she realised that she was alone in the bed.

  For a moment she was taken aback. The words had been on the tip of her tongue, all ready to bubble out. But his pillow looked as if it had been pounded to pieces during the night and there was no sign of Jay at all.

  ‘Oh,’ said Zoe, her mood temporarily flattened.

  But then she thought, He’s probably an early riser. Maybe he’s gone out jogging. Or he couldn’t sleep through the bells.

  The schoolgirl grin broke out again.

  She got up, pulling the hotel’s bathrobe over her nakedness, and padded out to the sitting room.

  The floor-to-ceiling windows were flung wide to the brilliant morning. And Jay was standing at one of them, looking out over the canal. No shirt, but he was wearing dark trousers. His hair was rumpled and his feet were bare. Zoe’s heart lurched.

  I slept in that man’s arms last night. I want him.

  He had his hands in his pockets and he was frowning. Lost in his thoughts, he certainly did not hear her.

  She padded across to him and slipped both hands round his arm. He jumped, stiffening. Zoe was too happy to worry about it.

  ‘Listen to them,’ she said, rubbing her face companionably against his shoulder. ‘Triumph in a few notes.’

  He did not return the caress. But, after the tiniest pause, he said in an amused voice, ‘The bells? They’re supposed to be calling the faithful to prayer, you know.’

  ‘Nah. It’s Venice showing off. I’m the best, you suckers.’

  She waved her arms above her head, taunting the rest of the world.

  Released, he moved away from her. ‘You’re very chirpy.’

  Zoe was in tearing spirits and saw no reason to hide it. ‘I’m wonderful.’

  Some of the constraint fell away from him. ‘Glad to hear it. Do you want coffee?’

  She stretched again, beaming. Below, the gilded water gleamed. Sunbeams struck diamond rainbows off the columns and colonnades of the square palace opposite. The morning air felt sharp and warm at the same time.

  ‘I want everything,’ she said with relish.

  He laughed.

  ‘I want to do everything. I want to see everything. I want to fly.’ She flung her arms wide, embracing Venice, life and the universe.

  ‘Start with coffee,’ Jay advised.

  She realised that there was a tray on the coffee table. He poured her a cup and brought it over to her.

  ‘Not as hot as it was, sorry.’

  She took it, her exuberance dimming a little. ‘Have you been up long?’

  ‘A while,’ he said uncommunicatively.

  She remembered—he doesn’t stay the night. It was only a tiny pinprick in the fabric of her delight, but it was there all the same.

  She said ruefully, ‘Ouch. My fault, I suppose? Did I snore?’

  Jay looked startled. Then he shook his head, smiling. ‘No. You were very well behaved.’ He raised his coffee cup to her. ‘A positive pleasure to sleep with.’

  Zoe twinkled back at him. ‘That’s a relief.’

  He looked at her searchingly. ‘You really are all right this morning?’

  The grin broke out again. She could not stop it.

  ‘I’m bloody marvellous.’

  ‘You’re not just—saying that?’

  ‘Oh, come on. Would I?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said unexpectedly.

  Zoe stared. ‘What? Why?’

  His eyes were greeny-hazel and oddly remote.

  ‘Because you’re kind and you’re brave and you tell people what they want to hear,’ he answered literally. ‘I want to hear that I didn’t hurt you last night. So, hey presto, my wish is granted. This morning, for one day only, the Zoe Brown all-singing, all-dancing extravaganza.’

  She pulled the robe tighter round her. Suddenly the crisp morning seemed chilly.

  ‘You’re crazy.’

  ‘No, I’m not,’ said Jay intensely. ‘I’m a man with a bad conscience trying to get the truth out of a world-class actress.’

  Zoe winced. But she said with spirit, ‘And to think you had the gall to call me neurotic! I think you can’t have had enough sleep. I must have snored after all, and you’re just lying about it to be kind.’

  Their eyes met in a duel that she did not wholly understand.

  She dropped the sarcasm. ‘Look at me, Jay,’ she said quietly. ‘If I were any more pleased with myself I’d burst.’

  There was a pause. For a moment his eyes flickered, as if he were confused. Then he shrugged and turned away. ‘That’s all right, then.’

  They talked about Venice. And the day’s itinerary. And breakfast. And her crazy family. She even made a joke about Deborah’s midnight pot roast. They laughed and they were friends.

  But it dimmed the day a bit.

  Zoe had an energising shower, then climbed into slim pale trousers and a crop top. Her mirrored image looked back at her, wide eyed and—excited.

  Excited?

  ‘The start of the rest of my life,’ she murmured. ‘And his.’

  She went back into the bedroom, brushing her curls vigorously. Jay was standing by the bed. He turned—and for a moment she hardly recognised him. His face was a rigid mask but his eyes looked agonised.

  ‘What is it?’ she said involuntarily, going to him.

  ‘So little blood for so much pain.’

  She realised he had been looking at the stained sheet. Her heart turned over. She took his hand. It felt inert in hers. As if he did not want her to touch him. Zoe began to feel alarmed.

  ‘That’s nothing,’ she said. ‘There’d be more blood from a grazed knee.’

  ‘I hurt you.’

  Zoe’s voice rose. ‘Okay, so I made a fuss. But this is nothing. The burn hurt more than that.’

  Jay detached himself. ‘But I didn’t burn you.’

  And the day dimmed a little more.

  They both made an effort, though. Zoe resumed brushing her hair. Jay shook off his constraint, raised an eyebrow at the way her curls clung to the brush and said, ‘I’ve never seen hair sizzle before.’

  ‘Curls,’ said Zoe, refusing to acknowledge the constraint between them. ‘The bane of my life. No serious person has curls. I’ll probably have to shave my head before I can embark on a serious career.’

  ‘Don’t you dare,’ said Jay.

  She hoped he would touch her hair then. He didn’t. But at least he watched with apparent fascination as she twined it into a pony tail and clipped it round with a bright turquoise elasticated fastening with a daisy button it.

  ‘You look about twelve,’ he commented.

  Zoe narrowed her eyes at him. ‘I’ve got a degree in chemistry and on-the-job experience of all necessary life skills from plumbing to party-giving. I am not twelve.’

  The constraint eased a bit more.

  ‘Sorry,’ said Jay, amused.

  He opened the door of the suite for her.

  ‘Okay, I happen to have been a little slow in launching my great career,’ Zoe allowed. ‘I have been taking stock of my available options.’

  ‘I’m sure there are hundreds,’ he said politely.

  And a whole new dimension of them since last night. She bit back a grin. ‘Just watch me.’

  He touched her hair then, ruffling it as if she were the twelve-year-old he’d mentioned.
‘You’re a tonic, Discovery.’

  They went down in the cherub-festooned elevator.

  Breakfast was served with maximum pomp in the restaurant.

  ‘You can’t possibly need that many plates and glasses to eat a croissant,’ said Zoe, torn between amazement and contempt.

  ‘This is an international hotel,’ Jay told her, entertained. ‘You can have everything from hominy grits to ham and cheese. To say nothing of that pickled fish that the Scandinavians eat. You need a variety of fighting irons to deal with a menu like that.’

  ‘There is no way I’m eating pickled fish for breakfast,’ announced Zoe, horrified.

  ‘Relax. It’s not obligatory.’

  And nor was the restaurant, apparently. He led her through it to an open air terrace. The tables there had bright gingham cloths instead of stiff white damask, and a marked diminution in the crockery and glassware.

  ‘You get your own orange juice and buns from that table under the awning,’ Jay told her. ‘They come and take orders for whatever else you want. Coffee, tea, eggs, mixed grill.’

  She wrinkled her nose at him. ‘And I suppose you come here regularly, too. What on earth do you do for kicks? You’ve done everything in the world before,’ she complained.

  At once he went very still. ‘Not everything.’

  At once Zoe recalled his stillness this morning, when she’d found him frowning out at the canal. And later, contemplating her physical hurt.

  She could have kicked herself. Damn! Why can’t I learn to keep my mouth shut? Now he’s thinking about last night again.

  He obviously hated everything about last night. The day dimmed a lot more.

  But then she squared her shoulders. Oh, well, there was nothing she could do about it. Except get back to neutral subjects as fast as she could—and try to avoid putting her foot in it again.

  She said lightly, ‘Well, enough to give me some considered vocational advice. What do you think I should do as a career?’

  He relaxed visibly. ‘What do you want to do?’

  ‘If I knew that, I’d be doing it.’

  ‘Okay, let’s look at it another way. What did you like about university?’

  ‘Friends. The course. Independence,’ said Zoe promptly.

  The waiter arrived and they ordered.

  When he left, Jay said, ‘Your course. What did you like about that?’

  She chuckled. ‘Oh, chemistry is wonderful. So elegant. Everything fits, if you know what I mean. The boys used to like it because they were licensed to blow things up. But I just loved the ideas. I used to draw patterns of chemical structures. And I’d work on an experiment for weeks if I had to, until I got it right.’

  He smiled, ticking off on his fingers. ‘Okay. No violence. Plenty of order. Plus patience. And persistence. Sounds good.’

  She pulled a face. ‘Not very marketable. I mean, I’d have quite liked to go into food chemistry, but you need a second degree and I wasn’t good enough for that.’

  ‘Don’t put yourself down,’ he said. ‘There is a very strong movement to offer you a full-time job at Culp and Christopher.’

  Zoe was genuinely astonished. ‘You’re joking.’

  His mouth tilted with wry self-mockery. ‘On the contrary. I’m fighting it off with all my might.’

  ‘Oh.’ She did not like that. But her curiosity was too great for her. ‘Why?’

  His look was ironic. ‘You’re seriously asking me why I don’t want you working for me?’

  She winced. ‘No,’ she said hastily, ‘I think I’ll pass on that. Tell me why the fans—my few fans,’ she added acidly, ‘want to take me on in the first place. What have I got that would be any use to you—er—Culp and Christopher?’

  He hesitated.

  ‘See?’ She tried not to let her disappointment show. She did it well. So Performance Zoe was not quite dead yet, then. ‘Nothing. It would be just another job making the tea and running around after everyone else.’

  ‘It wouldn’t.’

  She was disbelieving. ‘Really? So—hypothetically—what can you seriously see me doing at Culp and Christopher?’

  Jay’s eyes danced. ‘Actually, you’re not going to like this.’

  Zoe’s eyes narrowed. ‘I don’t like making the tea, but it doesn’t kill me. Come on. Tell the truth and shame the devil.’

  ‘Well, I—that is they—the others—Tom and his cohorts— want you because you’re ordinary.’

  He was right. She did not like it. She narrowed her eyes at him in a glare.

  ‘See? I told you you wouldn’t like it.’

  ‘Ordinary—how?’

  ‘Well, we’ve got a bunch of specialists at the moment.’ Jay gave her that sudden blazing smile that kept even the most cynical employee on his side when times got rough.

  She mistrusted it deeply, even under normal circumstances. Here, this morning, she thought, He’s hiding something.

  He went on, ‘Actually, they’re all oddballs. Though we don’t say it, of course. Molly is nearly as weird as the rockers she hangs with. Or she was until she found herself a regular guy. And the Fab Ab, of course. Our token upper class bird and Interpreter to the Seriously Rich. Lady Abigail, no less. Does good work, too, in spite of the handle. Then there’s Sam—she knows movies, and quotes the screenplay of everything Harrison Ford’s ever done. But there isn’t one regular soap-watching, romance-reading, family-running woman in the whole bunch.’

  Zoe sat very still. What is he hiding?

  The smile intensified until she thought she would burn up in it.

  ‘I don’t call you Discovery for nothing. That’s why.’

  Zoe nodded slowly. What doesn’t he want me to see?

  She said aloud, ‘I’m not ordinary. I woke to bells, the sun is shining and I’m in love.’

  His blazing smile flickered, seemed to freeze for moment.

  She gave a soft laugh. A soft, false laugh. Oh, Performance Zoe was back with a vengeance. So much for hello to the rest of her life!

  ‘Relax, Jay. With Venice, I was going to say. I’ve fallen in love with Venice.’

  ‘Of course you have,’ he agreed.

  Their coffee arrived, and with it eggs and a great bowl of fresh fruit.

  Zoe picked up her knife and fork and attacked her scrambled eggs with gusto.

  ‘Gotta keep my strength up. Gotta lotta sights to see.’

  It was a lifeline, the sightseeing. As soon as they finished breakfast Jay bought her a guidebook and they retraced the steps of yesterday’s walk. Only this time they went inside the palaces, the museums, the galleries. Jay offered to buy her an instant camera but she refused.

  ‘I want to drink it in. Hold it in my memory. I can’t do that if I’m peering through a little hole taking pictures all the time,’ she said crisply. Adding conscientiously, ‘But thank you.’

  He nodded. ‘You’re a real original, aren’t you?’

  She sent him a swift look. ‘Not so ordinary, after all?’

  Jay sighed. ‘I knew I should never have told you that.’

  She had got her exuberance back. Okay, some of it was performance. But some of it was the sheer energy of last night.

  Zoe danced along beside a weathered stone wall. ‘I forgive you.’

  ‘Thank you,’ he said gravely.

  She knew she was being teased. She turned round and skipped backwards in front of him, looking wicked.

  ‘Who wants to be a rotten old spin doctor anyway?’

  The thin handsome face lit with laughter. ‘Oh, quite. You sound like my Indian grandfather.’

  She raised her eyebrows. ‘Sounds like a good guy.’

  ‘Yes.’ His face softened wonderfully when he talked about his Indian grandfather, she saw. ‘That’s more or less what he said the last time I saw him.’ His eyes were very green. He looked away. ‘He did not like what I’d become. He’d like it even less now.’

  Zoe stopped dead. Big stuff coming, she thought.

  She
said carefully, ‘Do you? Dislike what you’ve become, I mean?’

  He hesitated. ‘Maybe.’

  She sucked her teeth. After a pause, she said, ‘Know why?’

  He came back from whatever dark place he had been visiting. ‘I do, and it’s all too easy for me.’ He hesitated, as if he was struggling for words. ‘When I was running I had to train every day, in a structured way. No quick fixes. No spin, if you like. I was as good as I deserved to be. Oh, sometimes I got a little lucky. But I couldn’t talk my performance up. If it was sub-standard, it was sub-standard. I couldn’t argue with the results.’

  She digested this. ‘Yes—but life is not as simple as a race, is it?

  Jay looked at her, arrested. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, when you do one of your public relations campaigns you’re telling people about values. Not just about who won. About how you measure the winning.’ She stopped. ‘I don’t now what I’m talking about. Sorry.’

  Jay said slowly, ‘For a woman who is suspicious of spin doctoring you are making a lot of sense.’

  But Zoe was embarrassed. She started walking again, energetically, to hide the fact. ‘How did you get into PR anyway?’

  Jay’s face lit with spontaneous amusement. ‘Selfdefence.’

  Zoe goggled. ‘What?’

  ‘It was after I won my first big medal. A couple of journalists made a complete prat of me. Entirely my own fault. So I thought—I’ll look into this. Next time I won I got the story I wanted into the press—and athletics got the boost it should have done first time around. So then I thought— there’s a job here. I’ve been passing on what I learned then ever since.’

  ‘I see,’ said Zoe slowly. She thought about the research she had done for his speech tomorrow. ‘But it’s more than that, isn’t it? I mean, it’s about more than celebrities planting stories?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So tell me about that.’

  But he flung up a hand. ‘It’s my day off. You want to hear the Jay Christopher Philosophy of Public Relations, you listen to my speech tomorrow.’

  She was surprised. She had not been at all sure that he was going to let her go to the conference. She’d half expected him to hide the fact that she was with him. It broke all his professional rules, after all.