Millionaire's Woman: The Millionaire's Prospective Wife / The Millionaire's Runaway Bride / The Millionaire's Reward. CATHERINE GEORGE

Cory to take a sharp breath when she first entered it. It wasn’t the walk-in dressing room, which would have swallowed her sitting room at home, or even the en suite bathroom, which was more luxurious than the one in Nick’s flat that was the trouble. It was the bed. It was unlike any bed Cory had ever seen. In fact, it was more of an ocean of billowy space than anything else.

      That he had been expecting her discomfiture was obvious in the amused tilt to his mouth when he said, ‘You might have guessed I had the bed made specially. I’m a big boy; I like a lot of room.’

      ‘You’ve certainly got that,’ she squeaked weakly, wondering how many of his women he had shared it with.

      It was set in front of huge windows, which had the same outlook as the sitting room below, the three carpeted steps which led to it the same length as the bed. The duvet and numerous pillows and cushions were various shades of coffee and taupe and this colour scheme was reflected through the whole suite. The bed was sensual and outrageous and sinful; it dominated the whole room and declared without any apology that pleasure was its chief aim.

      Cory had to clear her dry throat before she could say, ‘The…grounds look very nice from what I can see in the dark.’ Nick had switched some outside lights on before he had begun to show her round the house, and now an area stretching some distance from the building was revealed.

      ‘Oh, it is nice, Cory,’ he said seriously.

      Too seriously. She glanced at him sharply. He was laughing at her. She knew it, but she also knew she needed at least two glasses of a good wine before she could relax enough to contemplate that bed with any confidence or, more to the point, the man who slept in it.

      She could just imagine the model type beauties who normally graced its languorous folds, she thought miserably. Suddenly all her imperfections had ballooned to giant size—particularly the vastness of her bottom and the dimples she could see at the tops of her legs when she looked hard enough. And Nick would be looking.

      ‘What’s outside, exactly?’ she asked with what she hoped was cool dignity.

      ‘Exactly?’

      He grinned that fascinatingly sexy grin and Cory upped the wine to three glasses.

      ‘Let’s see. Covered swimming pool and sauna which can be reached via a door off the kitchen as well as from outside. I’ll show you when we go downstairs. Plus a tennis court and croquet lawn, an orchard and a walled garden, which is very old-fashioned but quite cute. And lawns and trees and bushes, of course.’

      ‘Wow.’ Her eyes had widened. ‘Quite a bit of land then.’

      ‘A bit, but manageable. I have a gardener come in once a week for a few hours.’

      She nodded. Another world really. Her parents hadn’t been badly off and she had certainly never wanted for anything materially, but this sort of wealth was a thing apart. Of course she’d known his little empire was successful—he’d told her early on in their relationship that he’d been in the right place doing the right thing at the right time—but confronted with this beautiful house the reality of how rich he must be hit her for the first time.

      She became aware that he was studying her face, the amusement gone from his eyes. ‘Relax, Cory,’ he said softly. ‘This is Nick, not William, remember? You’re allowed to leave this room without being ravished if that’s what you want. I wanted you to see my home, that’s all.’