Millionaire's Woman: The Millionaire's Prospective Wife / The Millionaire's Runaway Bride / The Millionaire's Reward
was offered a modelling assignment she apparently couldn’t refuse.’
His girlfriend was a model? But of course she was—what else? Cory asked herself waspishly. He was obviously filthy rich and enormously successful—if the takeover remark was anything to go by. That, added to his good looks, would make him the catch of the year and ensure women were lining up in their droves. This last thought caused her to say, ‘But you must have someone else you can ask to stand in?’
‘Must I?’ he countered with lazy amusement.
‘Well, haven’t you?’
He didn’t answer this directly. What he did say was, ‘You wanted to make reparation for the dog and I suggested a way you could do so. If it’s not to your liking, that’s fine.’
It wasn’t to her liking! Of course it wasn’t to her liking. The kind of women who put in an appearance at Templegate wouldn’t be seen dead in anything other than Versace or Gabbana or Armani; the shoes that clad their tiny feet would take a couple of months of her wages alone. And to spend the evening in the company of this complete stranger who was entertaining other complete strangers would be torture. She’d be terrified of saying or doing something wrong for a start, and what if they were all snooty and standoffish or just plain uncommunicative?
She took one swift glance around the park, which was bathed in warm June sunlight, as though it was going to help her before bringing her eyes back to the keen blue gaze. ‘All right,’ she heard herself saying with faint disbelief. ‘If that’s what you want, fine, although I’d rather just pay for the phone and be done with it.’
‘Not the most gracious acceptance to dinner I’ve ever received.’ The amusement was still very much in evidence as he reached into his briefcase and extracted a small goldembossed card which he handed to her.
Cory glanced down expecting a formal business card, but it merely stated his name followed by four telephone numbers.
‘Forget the first number, that’s my home in Barnstaple,’ he said a touch impatiently. ‘The second is my London flat and the third my private line at the office. Obviously the mobile number is a little irrelevant now.’ Piercing blue eyes fastened on Rufus for a moment and the big dog shifted guiltily at her feet. Nick’s mouth twitched and then he glanced at the gold wrist-watch on one tanned wrist, his brow furrowing and the impatience more pronounced as he said, ‘I’m late for an important meeting, Miss James. Ring the flat after six tonight to give me your address, or the office number if you need me before that. The table’s booked for eight-thirty, incidentally, but we’re meeting in the cocktail bar at eight. I would like to be at the club no later than seven-thirty. Is that acceptable to you?’
The vivid blue eyes raked her face again and her pulse gave an unexplained jump. She managed a nod while she took a deep breath. ‘Look, I’m just an ordinary working girl,’ she said a little breathlessly. ‘I’m not used to places like Templegate, to be frank. If you find someone more suitable today who can help you then feel free to tell me tonight when I phone. I’ll quite understand.’
He had been about to walk away but now he turned and looked at her. There was a swift assessment when his gaze moved over her from the top of her head to the soles of her trainers. His expression didn’t alter and neither did the tone of his voice change when he said, ‘I shan’t change my mind, Miss James. Goodbye.’
Well! Cory’s face was burning as she watched him walk away with long strides which soon put him far into the distance. He’d looked at her as if she was a horse he was considering buying!
She stood for a few moments more until a whine at her feet brought her out of the maelstrom of her thoughts. Glancing down at Rufus she saw he had the nerve to be looking hard done by at the inactivity. ‘Don’t even go there,’ she warned him fiercely. ‘This is all your fault.’
The dog grinned back at her before leaping to his feet and straining at the leash, his nose twitching as a cute Bearded Collie with a topknot tied with a big pink bow to keep the hair out of her eyes swayed past, a definite comehither wiggle to her silky rear end.
‘You definitely need a certain little operation, if you ask me,’ Cory grumbled, before raising her eyes to gaze into the distance again. Blow, he’d gone. She shaded her eyes against the glare of the sun but after a moment or two was forced to accept he had disappeared from view.
All around the normal Saturday scenario was taking place—kids skateboarding, families strolling, couples stretched out on the grass sunbathing or reading, folk walking their dogs, groups of teenagers playing football or cricket or throwing Frisbees to each other—but she felt suddenly separate from it all. A run-of-the-mill walk in the park had suddenly turned into something extraordinary and, now he had gone, she had time to actually consider what had happened and she felt panic rise hot and strong.
She must be mad—stark staring mad—to agree to accompany him to Templegate tonight! Not just accompany him but virtually act as hostess to a group of people she’d never seen before in her life. Why hadn’t she said no? Why hadn’t she taken the get-out clause he’d offered? What on earth had prompted her to acquiesce to such a ridiculous proposition?
She brushed the memory of a striking, evenly planed face and steel-hard body out of her mind determinedly. It wasn’t him as a person, she told herself firmly as she began to continue the walk round the park. She wasn’t interested in Nick Morgan, not in the least. That would be sheer madness. Anyway, he already had a girlfriend and the last thing she was looking for was a relationship of any kind. No, she’d felt obliged to make amends, that was all.
She glanced down at Rufus trotting happily at her side and groaned inwardly. Why had she let him off the lead? Aunt Joan had been specific and she’d ignored her advice—and not for the first time in her life, she added miserably. But she wasn’t going to think of William Patterson now. She had enough problems right at this moment as it was, the most immediate being—what was she going to wear tonight? She would have to do some emergency shopping because she hadn’t got a thing that would pass in Templegate’s fabled surroundings.
As her feet quickened in time with the swirly butterflies in her stomach, Rufus had the most energetic walk he’d had for some time, and by the time the pair of them reached Cory’s aunt’s house they were both panting.
‘Are you all right, dear?’ her aunt asked mildly as she opened the door. ‘You look a little warm.’
Warm would be great. Just being over-warm would be heaven right now. ‘I did a silly thing,’ Cory said miserably as she stepped into the cool hall. ‘A very silly thing as it’s turned out.’
‘Really?’
She nodded.
‘Ooh, lovely,’ her aunt said happily. ‘I’m always doing silly things and it’s so reassuring when someone as together as you does too. The coffee pot’s on, come and tell me all about it.’
Rufus settled in his basket, gnawing frenziedly at an enormous hide bone, and with a mug of fragrant coffee and a plate of chocolate digestives in front of her Cory felt a little better as she related the events of the morning. There was something terribly homely and nice in sitting in her aunt’s farmhouse-type kitchen with a dog at their feet and bright sunlight picking the colour out of a bunch of marigolds in a vase on the windowsill.
When she’d finished explaining, her aunt was beaming. ‘But that’s wonderful,’ she said enthusiastically. ‘You’ll have a wonderful meal in the most wonderful place and this man sounds—’
‘Wonderful?’ Cory interrupted wryly. There had been a sight too many wonderfuls as far as she was concerned. She was terrified, and here was her aunt acting as though she had just won the lottery or something.
‘I was going to say very reasonable,’ her aunt said reproachfully. ‘He could have shouted or caused a fuss after all. Lots of people would have, and in this day and age of everyone suing everyone else at the drop of a hat…’ She sighed, wagging her head in despair at the current trend. ‘And all this Mr Morgan