Singapore Fling with the Millionaire

by Michelle Douglas

  Her chest squeezed tight, making it hard to catch her breath. Beach Monday was her baby—the company of her heart. Could she really walk away from it?

  She pushed her shoulders back. Of course she could. This was business. ‘I have trust issues.’ She rolled her eyes in an attempt to make light of her words.

  ‘You think it would be difficult to find a partner you could trust?’

  The thought of the entire process—selecting, interviewing, meeting and negotiating—left her exhausted.

  ‘Why do you have trust issues?’

  She hesitated, but... It wouldn’t hurt to tell him the truth. She couldn’t see how he’d be able to use it against her in any way. ‘A few months ago I discovered that my office manager, Rosa, was stealing from me.’

  His face darkened. ‘How?’

  ‘She was in charge of the payroll.’

  ‘And the odd bonus just happened to find its way into her pay packet?’

  ‘On the sixteenth of every month without fail as it turns out. It’s the oddest thing, but I really liked her. Who knew thieves could be so personable?’

  ‘Christy, I—’

  ‘What really rubbed salt into the wound, though, was she came highly recommended by a business colleague whom I respected. I’ve since found out that they’d just wanted to get rid of her from their own organisation.’

  He swore, and then leaned across and enfolded the hands she’d lightly pressed together on the table in front of her between his own. ‘I’m sorry that happened to you. It...sucks.’

  His descent into childish slang made her smile.

  ‘But, Christy, you learn from experiences like that.’

  She pulled away, tugging her hands from his. ‘All I’ve learned is that people can be deceitful and are prepared to take advantage of others to promote their own interests.’ Lewis had already taught her that particular lesson, but it hadn’t stopped her from making the same mistake again.

  She couldn’t stop her shoulders from slumping. ‘It didn’t teach me how to instantly recognise deceit, fraudulence or duplicity. I just now know that it comes all wrapped up in an attractive package deliberately designed to tempt you.’

  He blew out a breath. ‘And I’m offering you...’

  She nodded. ‘Exactly.’

  ‘And now you’re wondering—’

  ‘If it’s too good to be true,’ she agreed. ‘I’m looking at every possible angle you can screw me over, Jamie.’ And she hated herself for it.

  ‘And it looks as if you’re enjoying the process about as much as I am.’

  His smile was wry and she couldn’t help but return it. ‘Bingo.’

  He stared off into the middle distance. Christy sipped her G & T and then nearly choked when that blue-eyed gaze refocused on her with a new intensity. She set her glass down with a hasty thud. ‘What?’

  ‘I’m glad you’re so suspicious of me and my motives.’

  If she wore glasses, she’d have stared at him over the top of them now. ‘Really?’ Her voice dripped with disbelief.

  ‘If I can prove to you that I mean exactly what I say, if I can prove that I’m serious about cementing relationships with your suppliers and supporting the programmes you’ve put into place, then I can also convince my board of the efficacy of my vision. And that will mean I can finally haul MA into the future and secure its place as one of the world’s most iconic brands, meaning MA’s future success will be guaranteed.’

  And yet again she couldn’t help noticing that he’d focused on the wrong thing. Was MA’s continued success really more important to him than anything else? And more to the point, if that were the case, then...why?

  * * *

  Jamie—somehow he was starting to think of himself as Jamie rather than James—knew his proclamation to Christy had been a bold one, but nothing less would win her over.

  What was more, he found himself wanting to win her approval, her praise, and her support. When she looked at him he wanted her to feel proud of the association, not wracked with anxiety and riddled with doubts. And he had a dubious suspicion that had nothing to do with business.

  He spent the next four days working and trying to keep his mind focused on business, rather than drifting off to the shape of Christy’s mouth or the curve of her waist or the way her mane of red curls danced about her face. He continued to gather information about clothing factories in developing countries, and everything he discovered renewed his determination to make grass-root changes at MA. Companies like MA had a responsibility to the rest of the world.

  He created a mental checklist of the things he needed to accomplish to win Christy’s backing.

  He needed to prove to her that he wasn’t going to abandon her village co-ops to their fates and replace them with a more efficient labour force.

  He had to support the charities and education programmes she headed up. They’d be key in helping him become an industry leader in environmental and social sustainability.

  And, finally, he had to somehow prove to her that he was more than the job.

  But you’re not.

  He rolled his shoulders. Garbage. There was more to him than market appraisals and profit projections. Some instinct told him that if he gave his whimsical side a little more freedom, Christy would respond to it. He bit back a sigh. Did he even have a whimsical side?

  Of course he did. Everyone did. His came to life whenever he so much as glanced at one of her amazing beach umbrellas.

  He did his best to try and loosen up. In the evenings, he and Christy had fallen into the habit of setting off for some new food hall and sampling whatever new dishes took their fancy. She’d tell him about the exciting things she’d done for the day—she’d visited the Gardens by the Bay and made him want to experience the Supertrees for himself, had spent a magical day at the zoo, and had spent a morning exploring Little India, and an afternoon on a boat cruise.

  She’d inspired him so much that during one lunchbreak he’d slipped away from his makeshift office in the apartment to go and check out the Buddhist temple in Chinatown. It had been awe-inspiring, just as she’d said. Walking back home through the crowded streets had made him feel alive, and he’d found himself taking in the shapes and colours all around him. It made him wonder if in Manhattan he always walked with his eyes straight ahead and half closed.

  They were sallying forth to sample one of the food halls downtown when Jamie’s phone rang. He hesitated, tempted to let it go to voicemail.

  ‘Don’t not answer it on my account,’ Christy said. ‘It could be important.’

  He didn’t recognise the number. ‘Hello?’

  ‘Mr Cooper-Ford, it’s Inspector Goh.’

  ‘Hello, Inspector, what can I do for you? Do you have news?’ Inspector Goh was in charge of the investigation into the vandalism that had occurred at the MA store.

  ‘I do.’

  As he listened to the inspector’s report, his gut clenched and his appetite fled. ‘I see. Good work. And thank you for letting me know so quickly, I appreciate it. Do you need me to come into the station?’

  When the inspector answered in the negative, they rang off.

  Christy took one look at his face and led him to a park bench beneath a majestic rain tree with a view of the Victoria Concert Hall. ‘The inspector had news?’

  He dragged a hand down his face. ‘They’ve made an arrest.’

  ‘So... It wasn’t a business rival, a jealous ex, or a disgruntled board member?’

  ‘No.’ He had to tell her the truth. There was nothing for it. But he also needed to mitigate the potential damage it could do to their negotiations.

  ‘Was it random after all?’

  ‘I wish it had been, but no.’ He turned to face her more fully. ‘You’ll be aware of the bad press MA received back in February.’

  ‘In rela
tion to the documentary on Bangladeshi clothing factories?’ At his nod she continued. ‘MA was one of the companies named and shamed for sourcing its labour from factories whose workers—mainly women, I might add—aren’t even making a living wage.’

  His gut twisted. ‘That’s the one. And for your information I’m in the process of instituting changes there.’

  ‘Glad to hear it.’

  ‘An activist group has set themselves up in opposition to companies of MA’s ilk.’

  She nodded. ‘Agitating for change.’ And then her eyes widened. ‘They’re responsible for the vandalism?’

  He nodded. Behind the amber of her eyes he watched her mind race and his heart sank.

  ‘This will make the newspapers?’

  His lips twisted. ‘Undoubtedly.’

  While she didn’t physically move away, he could feel her emotionally and mentally start to distance herself. ‘I don’t want my good name or Beach Monday’s good name tarnished by yet another MA scandal.’

  ‘I will make sure your name is kept out of the papers.’

  ‘How?’

  He stilled and then he smiled. ‘I’ll offer a personal interview.’ He’d do whatever necessary to prevent Christy from hightailing it out of Singapore on the next available flight. ‘I believe it’s time to go public with my plans for MA’s future...with my vision for the company.’

  Her mouth dropped open. ‘Without talking to your board first? They’ll have a fit!’

  ‘It’s time they had a shake-up.’ He was tired of pussyfooting around.

  She bit her lip, and then she grinned. ‘Okay, I’m so sticking around to see this.’

  Some unknown tension inside him dissolved and he found himself grinning back at her. ‘Game on.’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  THE FOLLOWING EVENING Jamie’s gaze remained glued to Christy’s face rather than the TV as they watched his televised interview. He wanted to gauge her reaction. If only he could stop focusing on those curls! She had the sweetest ringlet that dangled down the side of her face to brush across her collarbone. He wanted to kiss the spot—

  Concentrate!

  Mentally he slapped himself. He needed to focus. Not imprint her face on his mind.

  He had a feeling it was already imprinted there anyway. He had a feeling he was never going to forget what she looked like in this precise moment. And it was nearly impossible to concentrate with her vanilla-butter-cake scent invading his senses.

  When the interview was at an end, she clicked the TV off and tossed the remote onto the coffee table. The movement sent a new wave of vanilla-scented air in his direction. They’d settled on the sofa in her apartment to watch the interview, but he thought now he should’ve chosen one of the bucket chairs.

  ‘That suit—’ he pointed to the now blank screen ‘—was a damn fine suit.’

  ‘That interview—’ she pointed to the TV too ‘—was a damn fine interview.’

  Some of the tension balled inside him started to loosen. As he’d hoped, that interview had helped to mitigate some of her concerns. ‘You needn’t look so surprised,’ he teased. ‘I’m good at what I do.’

  ‘You were polished, convincing and plausible.’

  Her words gave him pause. ‘I meant every word.’

  She met his gaze. ‘I know.’

  ‘None of that was news to you—I’d told you most of it already.’

  She moistened her lips. ‘But now I believe it with my head too, not just my heart.’

  He stared at the shine on her lips, at their plump promise, and need rumbled through his veins.

  ‘But now that you’ve gone public with your intentions for MA, outlined the direction you want the company to take, you’ve verbally committed to a course of action, and if you don’t follow through there’ll be a public outcry.’

  He dragged his attention back to what she was saying. ‘One that will materially damage MA’s bottom line,’ he agreed.

  ‘What will your board do?’

  ‘Beside have a thousand fits?’

  She grimaced, but a twinkle danced in her eyes. ‘You’re enjoying this.’

  The only answer he gave was a shrug. His board were not going to be pleased. They’d rant and rave and try to rattle his cage, but he’d forced their hand. And not before time. He was tired of waiting. MA was profiting at the expense of people who had no power. In all conscience, they could no longer continue the way they were. It was reprehensible.

  ‘My board are going to learn that they have to toe a new party line.’

  She nodded, though he sensed her mind racing. But then her face cleared and she sent him a smile that had his blood heating and his skin going tight. ‘You were brilliant.’

  The compliment was said with simple sincerity, making his throat thicken. He cleared it. ‘Thanks.’

  Their gazes caught and held and the room seemed to shrink, and grow warmer. He wanted—

  She leapt off the sofa. ‘Drink? A soda or an iced water?’ she said, her voice too high.

  ‘No, thanks.’ He shot to his feet. ‘I should be going.’

  He hadn’t imagined her panic when they’d been in danger of falling into each other’s eyes. And he didn’t imagine her disappointment at his decision to leave now. He empathised heartily with both.

  ‘You’ve signed Suki Takaharshi and Danielski?’ she said, naming a feted artist and a public relations firm.

  She poured herself a glass of iced water and gulped some of it down. He dragged his gaze from the line of her throat. ‘I want to sign people who share my vision, whose brand aligns to the one I’m trying to create at MA.’

  ‘Did they know you were going public with this today?’

  ‘I checked with them first—made sure I had their permission.’

  ‘I’m impressed.’

  He wanted her to be. ‘Thank you for staying and not running back to Australia, Christy, for trusting that I could fix this.’

  ‘You came through when I wasn’t sure you could. And you made sure that not so much as a murmur made the headlines about Beach Monday or me. I appreciate that. This entire trip is proving to be a revelation in more ways than one.’

  He knew then that he was a step closer to obtaining her signature. It made him want to punch the air in jubilation—he’d started to earn her trust and respect, had done something to deserve it.

  ‘We should do something to celebrate.’ She folded her arms and gave him the once-over. It left him throbbing in places he really shouldn’t be thinking about. ‘I happen to recall you promising me a beach day. I hope you mean to keep your word because that seems a suitable way to mark our ongoing negotiations.’

  He recalled that item on his checklist: Prove to Christy you’re more than the job. ‘How does Saturday sound?’

  She clapped her hands. ‘Perfect.’

  * * *

  The day of their beach trip dawned warm and clear. Of course it did. The apartment complex’s concierge had told Jamie it was always summer in Singapore, and he was starting to believe it.

  Christy was already waiting for him in the foyer, beach bag over her shoulder, when Jamie arrived. She glanced up, her eyes widening as she surveyed him. She tilted her chin. ‘Are you ready to let your hair down for the day, Mr All-Work-and-No-Play?’

  ‘You can call me Mr R & R, because today I’m the King of No-Work-and-All-Play,’ he shot back, assuming a swagger. ‘I’m going to show you how a beach day should be done.’

  She spluttered back a laugh. ‘Oh, this should be good.’

  Her grin had the blood surging in his veins. Her attention moved to the long thin bag he had slung over his left shoulder and she clapped her hands. ‘We’re taking a Beach Monday umbrella with us?’

  He wanted to high-five someone. ‘Of course we are.’

  She bounced. ‘Which one?
’

  ‘Wait and see.’

  Her throaty laugh had heat curling around him. He’d been lecturing himself on the importance of maintaining a fun and frivolous façade for the entire day. So far it hadn’t been difficult. It couldn’t be this easy, though. He needed to stay on his toes and make sure he could pull this off convincingly.

  It wasn’t that he wanted to deceive her. He just wanted to prove that...that he could value the same things she valued.

  ‘I take it Robert is on the way.’

  ‘Nope, I’m not a pampered rich kid today. Today I’m just some guy going to the beach with a friend. We’re catching the train.’

  The train took thirty minutes to reach Sentosa Island. They emerged into the sunlight and were greeted with the sight of Siloso Beach gleaming like a golden promise in front of them. Christy clasped her hands to her chest and stared, her eyes so wide a man could fall into them. ‘Oh! It’s...everything!’

  He caught her hand as she made to move down to the sand. ‘This is Sentosa’s most visited beach, but it’s not our destination.’

  ‘Oh, but...’ Pausing, she pulled in a breath and nodded. ‘Okay.’

  ‘We’re heading that way.’ He pointed south-east along the boardwalk. ‘I know how much you enjoy exploring on foot, but it’s warm so if you want to take the bus...’

  ‘Walking will be perfect.’

  Her eyes glowed, and his shoulders went back at the realisation he’d put that smile on her face. It felt good, knowing that. Really good.

  They passed Palawan Beach—the family-friendliest beach on the island—and finally reached Tanjong Beach.

  Christy stared around, everything alive in her face. ‘It’s gorgeous. What made you settle on this beach rather than one of the others?’

  ‘I’d thought it’s the one you’d like best. The guidebook described it as serene and tranquil—well, as tranquil as one can get in Sentosa. There’s still plenty of water sports to be had if you’re in the mood.’ He had the names and number of several operators saved on his phone.