Singapore Fling with the Millionaire

by Michelle Douglas

  She hadn’t done any of that. She’d apologised. Apologised!

  She’d told him that when his father had died she’d felt as if her entire world had collapsed. Her purpose was not only gone, but she’d been forced to face the fact that it had been a sham from the very start. The message he’d implored Jamie to give her when he’d been dying had been an apology, not a declaration of love. He’d never loved her. And he was never going to love her even if he’d survived the accident.

  In her grief, and in her horror at the lie she’d told herself for all those years, she’d thrown herself into something she was good at, something that had brought her respect and acclaim—running MA. She’d thought it’d make her feel better about herself. And to a point, it had. But she could see now how closed off she’d become.

  She’d told Jamie she didn’t want him to lead the same sterile life that she had. She’d told him to follow his heart. She’d told him any price and any risk were worth winning the heart of his fair lady.

  He’d never in all of his thirty-four years expected to hear such words on his mother’s lips. She’d kissed him then, hugged him awkwardly, and told him brusquely to let her know how he got on and that she was off on an extended holiday tour of Europe to have some fun.

  He stared out of the window at Sydney Harbour as it came into view—a glorious sight on a late spring morning—and allowed himself a tiny measure of hope. If a miracle such as his mother’s turnaround was possible then surely... Surely it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility to win Christy’s heart.

  He didn’t expect it to happen overnight—he knew he had a lot to prove to her. And he didn’t expect it to be easy. But if she’d give him a chance...

  He crossed his fingers as the plane started its descent.

  * * *

  Jamie spent the next two days in conference with his lawyers, going over every aspect of his plan and the new contract he’d had drawn up. He spent every other moment aching to be with Christy, and fighting the urge to throw caution to the wind and just turn up on her doorstep to tell her he loved her.

  He’d lost count of the number of times he’d started for the door of his hotel room, only to stop himself. He didn’t want to land on her doorstep empty-handed. He wanted to give her something of value.

  So, instead, he spent his free hours staring unseeing out of the window at the magnificent view of the harbour and Opera House that was entirely wasted on him, pounding a treadmill in the hotel gym, or taking long solitary walks through Circular Quay, The Rocks and the Botanic Gardens.

  From the moment Christy had left Singapore all the colour had bled from his life. In all fairness, prior to Christy he hadn’t had a whole lot of colour in it either, but she’d opened his eyes to the vividness and variety that surrounded him. He’d lost that when he’d lost her. When he walked, he did what he could to recapture it, tried to see the world through her eyes, tried to identify the things that would inspire her creativity. It managed to take him out of his own mind for a little while.

  Dropping to a park bench in the Botanic Gardens, he stared at the superb view of the Sydney Harbour Bridge, at the way the water glowed orange in the sunset. Barely a breath of breeze ruffled the leaves in the trees above him and the harbour looked momentarily other-worldly. Christy would love this, and he wished so acutely that she were here his hands clenched with the fierce sudden need for her. He’d been an idiot in Singapore. A Grade A idiot. If she rejected him now—

  He ran a hand over his face. If she rejected him he’d go home and start over. What he wouldn’t do was throw himself heart, body and soul into running MA. What he wouldn’t do was go off the rails drinking, partying, and womanising. What he wouldn’t do was close himself off from love again.

  His phone vibrated. He pulled it out to read an email from his lawyers telling him that everything was in place.

  Pulling in a breath, he stood and nodded once. Tomorrow he had a chance to fight for what he wanted. Tomorrow he’d find out for sure if he had the slightest chance of winning Christy’s heart.

  * * *

  Christy stared out at the harbour and took three deep breaths in the hope it would fill her with a sense of promise, a sense of enthusiasm. Today could well bring her the new path forward that she’d been searching for. She should be excited.

  ‘Yay.’

  But the word fell strangely flat. Nothing could seem to light a fire in the pit of her belly and have her eagerly turning towards the future. Not when she was still so caught up in the past.

  It wasn’t even three weeks since she’d returned from Singapore. She told herself it was natural to still feel despondent. She missed Jamie as she’d miss the sun or the sky if they were no longer there. As she’d miss the beach!

  She shook herself. She was tired, that was all. She wasn’t sleeping. And it didn’t help that she’d been running herself ragged readying herself for the handover of Beach Monday either.

  And that was another thing. Whenever she thought of what she’d done—sold the company she’d started from nothing!—a fresh wave of grief would grip her. Had it been a mistake to sell?

  It’s too late for regrets now, my girl.

  Her lips twisted. What was truly ironic was that her creativity hadn’t abandoned her as she’d thought it would in a time of such emotional upheaval. Oh, no. But all of her new ideas—all of them—were for beach umbrellas. She couldn’t make umbrellas any more—she’d signed a two-year non-compete clause.

  So much for a supposedly stellar career in design! It looked as if she was a one-hit wonder and—

  Oh, for heaven’s sake, stop moping!

  She just had to give things a chance to settle down. She’d find her equilibrium again. Squaring her shoulders, she turned towards the office building on Circular Quay—the venue for today’s meeting.

  Her fingers tightened on the handle of her briefcase. Why hadn’t Jamie contacted her, though? She hadn’t heard from him. Not even about business. Not once.

  She’d gone over and over their conversation on the ferry and during that lunch in Batam, and had berated herself a hundred times. She should’ve kept her mouth shut and her opinions to herself. But she’d allowed her outrage to get the better of her. She’d been so angry at all that Jamie’s parents had put on him, their self-centredness, the silent messages they’d sent him—that he wasn’t worth anything beyond his name and what he could achieve with MA. It was such a lie! But one he’d evidently bought into.

  To then discover he’d also cut himself off from love... She hadn’t been able to bear it.

  For him or yourself...?

  She had no idea, but what did it matter now? Jamie had all but told her he didn’t love her, wasn’t interested in letting their relationship deepen into anything more permanent—not that they’d had a relationship per se. A few kisses should never have come to mean so much to her.

  If a tiny sliver of hope had stubbornly refused to die after she’d discovered Jamie’s attitude towards love, it’d curled up its toes and started pushing up daisies when he’d refused to tear up their contract. That’d informed her with a starkness that could still steal her breath that MA mattered more to him than she ever could or would.

  And maybe you need to stop obsessing over this?

  Setting her briefcase to her feet, she shook out her hands, reminding herself that today might be the start of a brand-new direction. An anonymous investor had requested a meeting—that had to be a good sign, right?

  Seizing her briefcase, she pushed through the door and gave her name at the front desk. A pleasant-faced woman immediately rose from the nearby waiting area. ‘Ms Minslow, it’s a pleasure to meet you. My name is Carmel. I’m your investor’s Australian contact. Please come this way.’

  She noted that Carmel didn’t mention her employer’s name. So far this mystery investor had insisted on liaising through a third-party intermed
iary. The anonymity puzzled her—unless it was someone big, someone of note, who was slipping into the country under a shroud of secrecy. For a moment her spirits lifted, but it didn’t last. The sad truth of the matter was that she’d rather see Jamie.

  Maybe that was why she made no push, when Carmel led her back outside, to find out whom she was about to meet. She swallowed, though, when she found herself walking towards the water and a large yacht. ‘I hope you don’t mind,’ the other woman said, ‘but my employer thought it’d be more enjoyable to discuss business while cruising the harbour.’

  She managed a polite smile. ‘Sounds lovely.’

  The business advisor she’d hired had assured her this was all normal procedure and that everything was above board. The fact the investor had set up a face-to-face meeting was apparently a very promising sign.

  It was time for a new start. It was time to set her face to the future. Squaring her shoulders, she boarded the yacht.

  As soon as the crew had cast off—or whatever the term was for setting sail on the harbour—Carmel led her to a large reception room below deck and asked her to wait. She stood gazing out of a window and tried to appreciate the way the sun sparkled on the water and the way fat white clouds scudded across a peerless blue sky. But that sky reminded her of the colour of Jamie’s eyes and—

  ‘Ms Minslow.’

  She swung around, her breath jamming in her throat.

  Jamie!

  He stood in front of her in the flesh, living and breathing and larger than life. An ache hollowed out her chest. It was all she could do not to hurl herself across the room and into his arms.

  Don’t make a fool of yourself.

  With a superhuman effort she swallowed and managed a nod. ‘Mr Cooper-Ford. This is a surprise.’

  Understatement, much?

  What was he doing here?

  He gestured towards the table. ‘Would you like to take a seat?’

  He wore the most beautifully tailored light grey suit that did incredible things to his eyes. She wore an off-the-rack navy suit, but the warmth in his eyes told her he saw nothing wrong with it. That warmth had her thighs trembling and she sat before she could fall. ‘So...you’re the anonymous investor who contacted my lawyer?’ She suddenly frowned. ‘Why the subterfuge?’ Her frown deepened. ‘And what kind of investment opportunity do you think the two of us can engage in?’

  She’d ached to see him, but now that he was in front of her she wanted to scream and berate the fates. What was the point in seeing him? He would never be hers.

  ‘Ms Minslow, I believe that—together—we could achieve amazing things.’

  The unmistakable double meaning in his words made her swallow. But his continued formality had her gripping her hands together in her lap. His gaze continued to hold hers and she doubted she could look away even if she’d wanted to.

  ‘I’m in Australia for a couple of reasons. One is highly personal.’

  Her heart started to pound—hard—and refused to stop.

  ‘And the other is professional. I think it’ll be wiser if we dispense with business first.’

  Was she the highly personal reason he was in Australia? Please, please let her be the highly personal reason.

  Business, Christy. Focus on the business.

  ‘Very well,’ she agreed, but her voice came out choked and hoarse.

  ‘MA and I have parted ways.’

  ‘What?’ She shot to her feet. ‘Why? I—’ She slammed herself back into her seat and gulped back a torrent of questions. ‘How impertinent of me. I apologise. That is none of my business. But if you and MA have parted company, then...’ Her mind raced. ‘That means Beach Monday still belongs to me.’

  ‘That’s correct.’

  The deal hadn’t gone through? Beach Monday was still hers?

  Yes! She wanted to dance. She was never selling her beloved company again.

  His eyes twinkled as if he’d read that resolution in her face, and then he sobered. ‘You made me realise something while we were in Singapore. You made me realise I’d never considered any other direction for my life than working for MA and eventually becoming CEO there. It made me ask myself that if I were free to choose any other direction, where would I go? Would I want to remain at MA or do something different?’

  She could barely take in what he was telling her.

  ‘I asked myself searching questions, like what I’d like to achieve personally; what would I like to be remembered for? All I’ve ever done is follow the path others have expected of me. My life was one of duty and obligation, but it wasn’t one of passion. There was no denying I was good at what I did, but I realised that didn’t necessarily equate to happiness.’

  ‘You don’t want to be CEO of MA?’

  One gorgeously broad shoulder lifted. ‘It’s not a path I’ll discount in the future, I’m still a voting member of the board, but while I have the pedigree—’ his lips twisted on the word ‘—I don’t have the proven reputation on the board to be CEO. Which is why the board didn’t have confidence in me. And I find I lack the zeal to prove them wrong.’

  Outrage swelled her chest. ‘They’re just a bunch of old fogeys who can’t see beyond their own noses to recognise when they have a person of substance at the helm!’ The words were out of her mouth before she was even aware of it. She shifted on her seat at his raised eyebrow. ‘I liked the programme of economic sustainability you planned to implement,’ she mumbled.

  ‘Which is why I’ve brought in a replacement who is fifteen years my senior and whose...let’s call it ethical vision, corresponds with mine. His age and experience have made him acceptable to the board and a five-year tenure has been agreed.’

  She stared at him, gobsmacked. ‘But why hasn’t this made the papers?’

  ‘It goes public the day after tomorrow.’

  She slumped back in her seat. Just...wow.

  ‘So now I find myself looking for a project of my own. Because that’s what I want to do. I want to strike out on my own. I want to prove that I can be a success without the backing of a company like MA with all of its prestige and infrastructure. I’m looking for a project I can believe in and get behind and help to grow.’ He paused, his gaze steady. ‘A project like Beach Monday.’

  ‘Beach Monday...? Grow?’ she parroted.

  ‘I’d like to be hands-on.’

  She tried to ignore the images those words hands on evoked in her mind. She moistened suddenly dry lips. ‘Does that mean you want to invest in my company?’

  ‘That’s exactly what I mean, Ms Minslow.’

  She couldn’t speak for a moment—couldn’t manage a single solitary syllable. But the power of speech hadn’t deserted her entirely. ‘I don’t doubt Beach Monday would benefit from everything you have to offer, Mr Cooper-Ford. What kind of arrangement did you have in mind?’ she eventually managed to get out.

  ‘In return for investing this amount of money in your company...’

  He wrote an amount down on a piece of paper and pushed it across the table towards her. Her eyebrows shot up towards her hairline. She counted the number of zeroes for a second time. Be cool. Be cool!

  ‘Holy crap!’ So not cool. And she didn’t care.

  ‘In return I want a forty-nine per cent stake in Beach Monday. I want to be your business partner.’

  ‘You’re serious?’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  She glanced at the number in front of her again and frowned. ‘This is very generous...too generous.’

  ‘No.’ He sounded confident and utterly sure of himself. It was beyond sexy. ‘This is business, nothing more, I promise you. I believe in your company and I want to help you take it to the world. Beach Monday is going to be an outrageous success and I want to get in on the ground level. I expect to recoup my money many times over.’

  ‘I’d ma
ke you a forty-nine per cent stakeholder for half this sum.’

  He tapped the piece of paper. ‘While I’d let you wrestle me down to a forty per cent stake for that sum.’

  She suddenly wanted to laugh. ‘I’m fairly certain this isn’t the way we’re supposed to do business.’

  He held his hand out. ‘What do you say? Do we have a deal?’

  She found her hand somehow in his. Apparently she hadn’t lost the power of movement either, even though she felt as if she had no control of her limbs. ‘I’ll have my lawyers draw up the papers.’

  ‘Excellent.’ He stood. ‘It was an absolute pleasure doing business with you, Ms Minslow. I look forward to our partnership.’

  ‘Pleasure’s all mine,’ she murmured, rising too, her heart careening about inside her chest.

  Could they get to the important stuff now—his highly personal reason for being in Australia?

  ‘I’ll be in touch.’ With a nod, he turned and strode away.

  Her mouth dropped as she watched him leave. She sat back down with a thump. What did it mean, Jamie showing up like this? Had he and his mother fallen out?

  Doh! Well, obviously. Her gut clenched. Had they fallen out because of her? She didn’t want that; she’d never wanted that. She knew how important family was to him. She mightn’t like Denise, but she hadn’t wanted to cause a rift between mother and son. She’d just wanted Jamie to forge his own path.

  A rather ugly thought occurred to her. Had he offered to invest in Beach Monday to spite Denise? She dragged both hands back through her hair, only to tangle her fingers in it. With a grimace, she untangled herself.

  She wanted Jamie to be here because he’d missed her and hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her. But how ridiculous was that? Because he’d never told her he loved her. He’d never even considered it a possibility. So whatever his highly personal reason for being here might be, it wasn’t to tell her he loved her and wanted to build a future with her.

  The day had darkened, though a glance out of the window told her the sun still shone as brightly as ever.