The Ruthless Billionaire’s Redemption

by Sandra Marton

  There was a long, slow-moving queue at Customs. Danielle gave the inspector a hesitant smile, but he barely glanced up. He seemed bored, even disinterested, as he held out his hand for her papers.

  ‘How long will you be in France?’ he asked. ‘Are you here on business or pleasure?’

  His English was heavily accented. Without thinking, Danielle responded in French, and suddenly his face was wreathed in smiles.

  ‘Ah, mademoiselle,’ he said, and he burst into the swift, musical language she had studied and loved for so many years.

  French, she thought, he’s speaking real French, and suddenly her heart raced with excitement. She was really here! She was in Europe and the summer lay ahead, the long weeks beckoning like unwrapped gifts lying beneath a Christmas tree.

  Danielle dragged her suitcase to the car-rental counter. Her breath hissed from her lungs as she eased it down and flexed her hand wearily. She would be in Ste Agathe soon, with Val. What she’d told Ginny was true—she didn’t believe in miracles and she didn’t expect one—but it was going to be nice to see Val again.

  There was so much to catch up on—Val probably had dozens of fantastic stories to tell. While Danielle had been drumming French into unwilling adolescent heads, her glamorous cousin had been burning a swath through New York and Hollywood. She’d been everywhere and done everything—she’d even broken two engagements and who knew how many hearts. Danielle smiled to herself. Listening to Val would be like reading a glossy magazine.

  As for the things she’d tell Val, well, there wasn’t all that much to talk about. Danielle liked teaching, but Val would probably think it dull. Her smile dimmed a little. She could tell her about Eddie, of course, how kind he had been, how good.

  Eddie. It was the first time she’d thought of him in hours. But that was understandable. Today had been such a rush. First Ginny’s old car had had to be coaxed into starting. She’d had to race to make the plane at St Louis. And then there’d been all that foolishness at the Air France lounge.

  But that was all behind her now. Besides, just because she hadn’t thought about Eddie, it didn’t mean she’d forgotten him.

  She never would, she thought as she moved slowly forward in the queue. Eddie had been the gentlest man she’d ever known. And he’d loved her very much. She’d loved him too, although not quite the way he’d wanted. But he’d made her feel needed, and perhaps knowing someone needed you was enough. Heaven knew she’d tried to feel what he felt, but it just hadn’t happened. Not even his kisses had made her heart race the way it had when she’d seen the stranger searching for her at the boarding gate.

  God! What was she thinking? She couldn’t compare her feelings for Eddie to anything else. She’d loved Eddie, she’d—

  ‘Mademoiselle?’ Danielle looked up. The clerk at the car-rental counter gave her a polite smile. ‘How may I help you?’

  Danielle fumbled in her shoulder bag for her rental agreement. ‘You have a car reserved for me,’ she said. ‘A compact. My name is Danielle Nichols, and I made arrangements in—’

  She broke off and stared at the clerk, who was looking down at the rental contract and shaking her head.

  ‘Alors, I am afraid I have not.’

  ‘Have not what?’ Danielle asked slowly, her eyes locked on the woman’s face.

  ‘A car, mademoiselle.’ The clerk looked up and smiled sadly. ‘We have none for you.’

  ‘But—but of course you have.’ Danielle tapped her finger against the rental agreement. ‘Don’t you see what this says? I have a car reserved for this day. Here’s my name and flight number, the time of my arrival…’

  ‘Oui. That is exactly so. And you have arrived more than one and one half hours late.’ The woman smiled. ‘You had a car at a discounted price until twenty minutes ago.’

  ‘You mean I’m too late?’ Danielle sighed. ‘Well, then, I’ll pay the regular price. Not that I think that’s right, you understand. But—’

  ‘There are no cars, Mademoiselle Nichols. Not at any price.’

  Danielle shook her head. ‘That can’t be. I must have a car. I have to drive to Ste Agathe. I don’t know any other way to reach it.’

  ‘I am terribly sorry, mademoiselle. Perhaps you can take a taxi. There is a stand, just outside. And then, tomorrow…’

  A long argument later, Danielle snatched up her suitcase and marched towards the exit doors. Tomorrow, she thought furiously. What good was that? She had to reach Ste Agathe today. Well, she’d just have to take a taxi, although who knew what it would cost? Val had sent her a cramped, hand-drawn map and, for all she knew, Ste Agathe was miles from here. The trip would probably cost a fortune.

  Her footsteps slowed, then stopped. She should have asked the clerk what the fare would be. How many francs were there to a dollar, anyway? Five? Six? For that matter, how many francs did she have in her wallet? Not a lot; the guidebook had said it was better to change your money at a bank at your destination.

  ‘For God’s sake, are you just going to stand there?’

  The man’s voice was deep, a little husky, and touched with impatience. Danielle’s mouth went dry as his hand closed around her arm. No, she thought, no, it couldn’t be.

  But she knew it was he even before she turned towards him. It was the man she’d run from on another continent. ‘What are you doing here?’ she said.

  It was a stupid thing to say. But she couldn’t think of anything else. Besides, what was he doing here? He should have left the terminal a long time ago.

  He laughed. ‘Saving your tail,’ he said, ‘that’s what I’m doing here. It’s getting to be a habit.’

  His eyes met hers, but there was no electric charge in them this time. There was, instead, a look of faint amusement, and she realised suddenly that that was what she’d heard in his voice, too.

  He wasn’t impatient with her, he was laughing at her, and not for the first time. The realisation was infuriating.

  ‘What a gracious way to put it,’ she said coldly. ‘But I’m happy to say I don’t need your help.’

  ‘Really? And just how in hell are you going to get to Ste Agathe?’

  Danielle twisted free of his grasp. ‘I’ll manage,’ she said, and then she frowned. ‘How did you know—?’

  ‘I overheard your conversation at the car-rental counter.’

  Her chin lifted. ‘Are you in the habit of spying on women?’

  He laughed softly. ‘Such ego, Miss Nichols. Have you got secrets to hide?’

  Danielle felt her cheeks grow pink. Easy, she told herself. Don’t let him shake you. Thanks to him, you’ve already played the fool once.

  ‘No,’ she said calmly. ‘I just find it strange that we would bump into each other again, especially since I saw you looking for me at Kennedy. You were—’

  She broke off in confusion. His eyes darkened and a little smile tilted at the corners of his mouth.

  ‘Was I?’ he said softly. ‘How could you tell?’

  So much for playing it cool. What was she going to say now? She couldn’t think of anything that wouldn’t make things worse—which was ridiculous. There was no reason to be so damned tongue-tied. If he just—if he just wouldn’t look at her that way, if he’d just back off so she could catch her breath…

  Stop it, she told herself firmly, and she tilted her head back and gave him a dazzling smile. ‘It’s been lovely,’ she said, ‘being charmed by you twice in one day. But you’ll have to forgive me—I’m in a rush. So if you’d just step aside…’

  He grinned. ‘At least you’re doing better now than you were a few hours ago.’

  Danielle stared at him. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘It means,’ he said, ‘that you seem to have decided I’m not the big bad wolf in disguise.’ He sighed and reached for her suitcase. ‘The trouble is, it’s too late for me to appreciate it. I’m tired as hell—I spent damned near the last twenty-four hours in the air, and I just made a call and found out it was all for nothing.�
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  ‘Will you please put down my suitcase?’

  ‘Don’t give me a hard time, lady. I told you, I’m wiped out.’

  Danielle’s eyebrows rose. ‘That’s hardly my problem. Just because you—’

  ‘Your problem,’ he said, ‘is reaching Ste Agathe, which happens to be exactly where I’m headed.’

  His answer stopped her dead. ‘Ste Agathe?’ She looked at him. His expression was unreadable, and after a moment, she shook her head. ‘I don’t believe you.’

  He muttered something sharp and succinct under his breath, and then he dropped her suitcase to the floor.

  ‘Look,’ he said, putting his hands on his hips, ‘I’m flattered. Really. I like playing cat and mouse. Hell, any other time I’d be delighted to go on for hours.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘But not now. I told you, I’m tired. And I’m irritable. All I want to do is get to my rooms and take a shower.’

  Danielle stared at him. ‘Cat and mouse? I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re—’

  ‘Come on, don’t give me that. I make a move and you parry with a cold shoulder. It’s a sexy little game—hell, I didn’t think you knew it, at first. But you do—and you’re damned good at it.’ He moved closer to her, and the slow smile she remembered all too well angled across his mouth. ‘Of course,’ he said in a husky whisper, ‘we could kill two birds with one stone. You must be as tired as I am. Why don’t we go someplace quiet and climb into a shower together?’

  Colour flared in Danielle’s cheeks and she reached for her suitcase, snatching it up despite its weight. ‘Not if you were the last man on earth.’

  Laughter lit his eyes again. ‘Your choice, sweetheart. Too bad. You would have been great company.’

  ‘The taxi driver who’s going to take me to Ste Agathe is the only company I want.’

  The man grinned. ‘No problem,’ he said, jamming a pair of dark glasses on his nose. ‘Enjoy your ride. Do yourself a favour and tell the driver to take the road to Mont Abat. That should cut off a few kilometres. And tell him you know the law, that you don’t have to pay his gas or share the ride with anyone else. Of course, you’ll have to pay his fare both ways.’

  Danielle swallowed. ‘Both ways? But—’

  ‘It’s a long trip, Miss Nichols. You don’t think these guys work for nothing, do you?’

  She hesitated. ‘I—I don’t suppose you know what the fare will be?’

  ‘Not to the centime, no. But eight hundred francs ought to do it.’

  ‘Eight hundred…’ She turned pale. ‘But that’s more than a hundred and thirty dollars.’

  ‘Unless he refuses to go via Mont Abat, in which case you’ll add on another fifty or sixty francs. Oh, and you’ll have to add on a tip, of course.’

  ‘Of course,’ she said weakly. Slowly, she set her suitcase down beside her. Eight hundred francs. That was almost as much as the cost of renting a car for two weeks. It was an enormous amount of money; it would put a dent in her careful budget, and this was only her first day.

  She drew a breath and looked up at the man again. She had the feeling he was watching her closely but it was impossible to be sure, now that his eyes were hidden behind the dark glasses.

  ‘Are you—are you really going to Ste Agathe?’ she asked.

  His lips drew back from his teeth. ‘That’s what I said.’

  ‘But—but I don’t know you. I mean…’

  ‘Would a formal introduction make you feel better, Miss Nichols?’

  ‘I know this must seem very funny to you,’ Danielle said coldly, ‘but I’m not in the habit of going off with strangers.’

  ‘We’re not strangers, though. We’ve had two absolutely delightful conversations, we shared a plane ride…’ He held up his hands in surrender when he saw the look on Danielle’s face. ‘You’re quite right,’ he said solemnly. ‘Two people who are about to set off on a journey together should at least know each other’s names. Anyway, I already know yours. I suppose you’re entitled to the same courtesy.’ He made a sweeping bow. ‘Lee Bradford, at your service, mam’selle.’

  Something in the way he offered his name gave her pause. ‘Should I—am I supposed to know your name, or something?’

  ‘Or something,’ he said with a quick smile.

  Was he an actor? Was that why he was going to Ste Agathe? He was certainly handsome enough.

  She drew in her breath. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘but I’m afraid—’

  ‘I’m a racer.’

  Danielle looked blank. ‘You can’t be. Jockeys are short, aren’t they?’

  He reached up slowly and pulled off his glasses. There was laughter in his eyes again. ‘Cars,’ he said softly. ‘Race cars. I’m a driver, Miss Nichols.’

  Race cars, she thought. Of course. It was easy to imagine him behind the wheel of a powerful car, the wind whipping into his face and the engine growling.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘I’m not very…’

  The look of amusement left his face. It was, she thought, like glimpsing the real features behind a mask, but before she could quite grasp what it was she’d thought she’d seen, the arrogant expression was back.

  ‘No,’ he said, picking up her suitcase, ‘you’re not.’ He started towards the doors as Danielle stared after him, and then he turned and looked at her. ‘Well? Are you coming or not?’

  She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. ‘I—I don’t know. Maybe I can get a car at another counter. Maybe I should telephone…’

  Lee Bradford sighed and dropped her luggage to the floor. ‘All right,’ he said, walking towards her, ‘let’s get it over with.’

  Danielle stared at him. ‘I don’t understand.’

  He smiled as his hands clasped her shoulders. ‘Yes, you do,’ he said softly. ‘You’ve been wondering about this from the minute I walked into that lounge in New York.’ His eyes swept over her face and settled on her mouth. ‘Maybe if we get the suspense out of the way, we can get to Ste Agathe before next week.’

  She knew what he was going to do a second before it happened, but it was still too late. Her hands came up and pressed against his chest as he bent his head towards hers.

  ‘No,’ she said frantically, ‘you can’t do that.’

  If only she hadn’t protested, she thought later, if only she hadn’t said anything or done anything, it might have ended there. His kiss was only meant to tease her, she knew that even as she fought against it.

  His mouth only brushed hers lightly, but when her lips parted to vent her protest, everything changed. Lee’s mouth closed over hers and then his arms tightened around her.

  Danielle whimpered softly as he drew her to him. She felt the quick race of his heart beneath her hands and the answering race of her own, and then his lips moved against hers. Suddenly time and reality dropped away.

  She had no idea how long it was before his hands cupped her shoulders again and he thrust her from him. They stood staring at each other, locked in a silence so thick it seemed almost palpable. Then, before Danielle could speak, Lee let out his breath and turned away.

  ‘OK,’ he said evenly, ‘that’s out of the way. Can you manage your carry-on yourself, or shall I take it?’

  Danielle shook her head. ‘I—I…’

  Her words faded and Lee swung towards her. ‘Last chance, little girl,’ he said. His voice sounded angry, almost fierce. ‘Maybe you ought to forget about Ste Agathe and get on the next plane back to the States.’

  It was, she thought with sudden, terrible clarity, probably the best advice anyone had ever given her.

  But instead of taking it, Danielle swung the strap of her carry-on over her shoulder. ‘Where’s your car, Mr Bradford?’ she asked with determined coolness, and without another word she followed him out into the hot Mediterranean sun.

  CHAPTER THREE

  LEE BRADFORD’S car was a low-slung, gleaming black machine that looked as if it were moving even when it was standing still. He tossed Danielle’s suitcase and car
ry-on into the boot, then unlocked the passenger door and gave her a casual salute.

  ‘Your taxi, Miss Nichols.’

  Danielle looked from him to the car. The interior looked barely large enough for two. The leather bucket seats were close to the ground, which meant her legs, bare beneath her light summer dress, would probably be stuck out almost straight under the dashboard.

  She turned and glanced towards the taxi stand and the long queue of travellers waiting there. Eight hundred francs, she thought. It was a lot of money, and who knew how long it would take until it was her turn? But perhaps it was worth it. Perhaps—

  ‘Having second thoughts, little girl?’

  Laughter danced in Bradford’s voice. Danielle met his derisive glance. God, the man was insufferable! First he’d expected her to be an easy pickup; when she hadn’t been, he’d decided she was a naïve little thing—probably because his ego wouldn’t let him think otherwise.

  Probably, she suddenly thought, because that was how she’d acted.

  Her head came up and she forced herself to meet his smile with an aloof one of her own. ‘Not at all,’ she said calmly. ‘I was just wondering why anyone would drive a thing like this. It doesn’t look very comfortable.’

  He laughed as he went around to the driver’s side and slipped behind the wheel. ‘Comfort hasn’t a thing to do with it.’

  He was right, of course. It hadn’t, and Danielle knew it. The car was made for speed. But speed was impossible along the heavily trafficked roads leading from the airport. She could feel Lee’s barely contained impatience: the fingers of his left hand tapped a restive tattoo on the steering wheel while his right clenched and unclenched on the gear shifter. He changed position in his seat, easing his long legs under the dashboard, then leaned forward and pressed a button on the instrument panel. A motor whined softly, and part of the roof overhead slid back.