‘The girl in that photograph is the woman you’re meant to be. I know it and you know it.’

He was wrong! She didn’t deserve to be that girl. She deserved nothing more than the chance to live her life in peace.

His breath fanned across her lips, addling her brain. She should step away, but she remained, quivering beneath his touch, hardly knowing what she wished for.

He pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. Her eyes fluttered closed as she turned towards him …

And then she found herself released.

‘You want me as much as I want you.’

Her heart thudded in her chest. She had to reach out and steady herself against a chair.

‘I don’t know why the thought of being happy scares you.’

An Unlikely Bride for the Billionaire
Michelle Douglas

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MICHELLE DOUGLAS has been writing for Mills & Boon since 2007, and believes she has the best job in the world. She lives in a leafy suburb of Newcastle, on Australia’s east coast, with her own romantic hero, a house full of dust and books and an eclectic collection of sixties and seventies vinyl. She loves to hear from readers and can be contacted via her website: www.michelle-douglas.com.

To Amber and Anthony, and Jessica and Tim, who are raising the next generation of heroes and heroines with grace and style … and a splendid sense of fun!

Contents

COVER

INTRODUCTION

TITLE PAGE

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

DEDICATION

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

EPILOGUE

EXTRACT

COPYRIGHT

CHAPTER ONE

‘BUT—’ MIA STARED, aghast, at Gordon Coulter ‘—that’s not my job!’ She was a trainee field officer, not a trainee event manager.

Her stomach performed a slow, sickening somersault at the spiteful smile that touched his lips. Gordon was the council administrator in charge of Newcastle’s parks and wildlife—her boss’s boss and a petty bureaucrat to boot. Plum Pines Reserve fell under his control. And he’d made no secret of the fact that he’d love to get rid of her—that he was simply waiting for her to mess up so he could do exactly that.

She did her best to moderate her voice. ‘I’m in charge of the weed extermination project that’s to start on the eastern boundary. Veronica—’ the reserve’s ranger ‘—insists it’s vital we get that underway as soon as possible. We’re supposed to be starting today.’

‘Which is why I’ve handed that project over to Simon.’

Every muscle stiffened in protest, but Mia bit back the objections pressing against the back of her throat. She’d worked ridiculously hard on fine-tuning that project, had gathered together an enthusiastic band of volunteers who didn’t care one jot about her background. More exciting still, she and Veronica had planned to take a full botanical inventory of the area—a comprehensive project that had filled Mia with enthusiasm. And now she was to have no part in it.

‘This isn’t up for debate, Mia.’

Gordon pursed his lips, lifting himself up to his full paunchy height of five feet ten inches. If it was supposed to make him look impressive, it failed. It only drew her attention to the damp half-moons at the armpits of his business shirt.

‘You have to understand that teamwork is vital in an area as poorly funded as ours. If you’re refusing to assist the administrative team in their hour of need then perhaps this isn’t the right organisation for you.’

She wanted to know where Nora was. She wanted to know why Simon hadn’t been given this job instead of her.

‘The Fairweathers will be here at any moment, so if you are refusing to assist...’

‘Of course I’m not refusing.’ She tried to keep her voice level. She couldn’t afford to lose this job. ‘I’m surprised you’d trust me with such an important assignment, that’s all.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘If you screw this up, Maydew, you’ll be out on your ear.’

She didn’t doubt that for a moment.

‘Naturally Nora will take over once she returns.’ His lips tightened. ‘She assures me you’re the only one who can possibly deputise in her stead.’

She bit back a sigh. Nora wanted her on the events team, claiming she was wasted as a field officer. Mia had plans, though, and they didn’t involve being part of the events team.

Where was Nora?

She didn’t ask. She refused to give Gordon the satisfaction of telling her it was none of her business. She’d ring Nora later and make sure she was okay.

The receptionist knocked on the office door. It was Nora’s office, but Gordon co-opted it whenever he decided to work from Plum Pines rather than his office at Council Chambers.

‘Mr Coulter? Mr Fairweather is here.’

‘Send him in.’

Mia moved to the side of the desk—she hadn’t been invited to sit—fighting the urge to move to the back of the room, where she’d be able to remain as unobtrusive as possible.

‘Mr Fairweather, it’s delightful to meet you!’ Gordon moved forward, arm outstretched, greasy smile in place.

Mia repressed a shudder.

And then she glanced at Dylan Fairweather—and had to blink, momentarily dazzled by so much golden...goldenness. Dear Lord, the papers did Dylan Fairweather no justice whatsoever. Not that Mia spent much time reading the society pages, but even she—hermit that she was—knew that Dylan Fairweather was considered one of Australia’s bright young things. Earlier in the year he’d been named one of Australia’s Top Twenty Eligible Bachelors.

If steal-your-breath sex appeal was one of the criteria then Dylan Fairweather had that in spades! Too-long dark gold hair and sexy designer stubble coupled with a golden tan had Mia’s fingers curling into her palms. At six feet two he towered over Gordon, his pale blue business shirt and sand-coloured chinos achieving a casual elegance Gordon had no hope of matching.

Nor did his clothes hide the breadth of his shoulders or the latent strength of powerful thighs. All that power and flaxen golden brilliance should have made him look terrifying—like a prowling lion. But it didn’t. He looked...he looked like a prince out of a fairytale.

Mia tried to tear her gaze away, but couldn’t. Never, in all of her twenty-five years, had she been in the presence of someone so physically perfect.. She remembered one of the women in prison describing how she’d felt when she’d first laid eyes on Vincent van Gogh’s painting The Starry Night. That was how Mia felt now.

Swallowing, she shook herself, appalled at the way her heart raced, at the craving that clawed at her belly. Pulling in a breath, she reminded herself that she wasn’t some primitive savage, controlled by greed and impetuous impulses. Not any more.

When Gordon had said she’d be taking care of the Fairweathers today, she’d been expecting a blushing bride and her aunt, maybe an attendant or two. She hadn’t been expecting the bride’s brother.

His pleasantries with Gordon exchanged, he turned to her and offered his hand with an easy, ‘Dylan Fairweather.’

She took it automatically, appreciating the just-firm-enough grip and almost melting under the unexpected warmth of his smile.

You’re not the melting type.

‘Mia Maydew. It’s nice to meet you. Carla is taking a call. She should only be a moment.’

‘That’s no problem at all.’ Gordon ushered Dylan to a chair, frowning at Mia over his head.

Dear God! Had her paralysing preoccupation been evident for all to see? Heat climbed into her face. Brilliant. Just brilliant.

Gordon took his chair. He still didn’t invite Mia to sit. ‘Unfortunately Nora can’t join us today. She sends her apologies. She was involved in a car accident on her way to work this morning.’

Mia couldn’t prevent her involuntary intake of breath, or the way her hand flew to her abdomen, just below her breasts, to counter the way her stomach jumped. Startlingly brilliant blue eyes surveyed her for a moment, and while the brilliant colour might have the ability to distract a mere mortal, Mia sensed the shrewdness behind them.

Dylan Fairweather shifted ever so slightly on his chair. ‘I hope she’s okay.’

‘Yes, yes, she’s fine, but her car is apparently a write-off. I insisted she go to the hospital for a thorough examination, though.’

Mia closed her eyes briefly and let out a breath.

‘Wise,’ agreed Dylan—Mr Fairweather.

‘In her stead—as a temporary measure, you understand—you’ll have Mia here to run you through wedding options. Anything you’d like to know—ask her. Anything you’d like to see—she’ll show it to you. I promise that nothing will be too much trouble.’

Easy for him to say.

She straightened. It wasn’t the Fairweathers’ fault that Gordon had thrust her into the role of Assistant Events Manager. She’d helped Nora out before with weddings and corporate events. She’d do everything she could to answer the Fairweathers’ questions and help Carla plan the wedding of her dreams.

‘If you’d like to take it from here, Mia?’

‘Certainly.’ She forced a noncommittal smile to her face. ‘If you’d just hand me the Fairweather file from the top drawer of the desk, I’ll take Mr Fairweather through to the meeting room.’

She was tempted to laugh at the disgruntled expression that flitted across Gordon’s face. Had he really thought she didn’t know about the file? She’d helped Nora compile parts of it earlier in the week. Did he hate her so much that he’d risk a lucrative account, not to mention some seriously good publicity, to undermine her? The thought killed any urge to smile.

She had to counsel herself to take the file calmly, before leading Dylan Fairweather out of the office to the meeting room. Her pulse skittered and perspiration gathered at her nape. She preferred working with animals to people. Better yet, she liked working with plants. With over one hundred and seventy hectares of natural bushland to its name, it should have been relatively easy to avoid human contact at Plum Pines Reserve.

‘Can I get you tea or coffee...maybe some water?’ She gestured for Dylan to take a chair at the table, doing what she could to stop her fingers from shaking. This account had excited Nora enormously and, Gordon aside, Mia wanted to do her best for her boss.

From across the table Dylan eyed her closely, a frown in his eyes, although his lips remained curved upwards in a pleasant smile. ‘I think a carafe of water and three glasses would be an excellent idea.’

He thought she needed a drink of water? Dear Lord. She scurried away to fetch it. Did her nerves show that badly? She usually came across as a difficult study. She took a couple of deep breaths to compose herself before returning to the meeting room.

‘Nora is a friend of yours?’ he asked when she was seated, taking charge of the carafe and pouring a glass of water before pushing it across the table to her.

It hit her then that he’d misread her nerves as worry for the other woman. She hesitated. Would Nora consider Mia a friend? ‘Nora is a close colleague. I like her a lot.’

‘The news of her accident was a shock?’

She wasn’t used to anyone being interested in her reactions. ‘It was. I’m relieved it’s not too serious.’ When he continued to stare at her—which did nothing to slow her heart-rate—she forced her lips upwards. ‘I’ll call her later to check if there’s anything she needs. It’s kind of you to be so concerned. Now, let me show you the material Nora and I have gathered in relation to Ms Fairweather’s wedding.’

‘Please—you must call us Carla and Dylan.’

Must she? There was a certain protection afforded by the formality of Mr and Ms.

The customer is always right.

She bit back a sigh. If that were the case...

‘Dylan.’ She tested the name on her tongue. It emerged without any effort at all and tasted like her favourite brand of dark chocolate—flavoured with a bite of sea salt. His smile was her reward, making her forget the rest of her sentence.

‘See...it wasn’t so hard, was it—Mia?’

He made her name sound like a song.

He smiled. ‘I can see why Carla requested you work on her wedding’

She opened her mouth and then closed it, blinking. ‘I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else. I’m afraid I don’t know your sister, Mr Fair—uh... Dylan.’

He stared across at her, but in the end he merely nodded and let it go without challenge. It was as if someone had cut a string and released her.

She glanced down at the folder in an effort to collect herself. ‘Do you know...?’ She cleared her throat. ‘Do you know where Carla would like the ceremony to take place?’

He glanced towards the door, as if hoping his sister would magically appear. ‘Beside some lily pond. It’s apparently where she and Thierry met.’

Right. Mia jotted a note down on her pad.

Blue eyes twinkled across the table at her when she looked up at him again. ‘Aren’t you going to gush about how romantic that is?’

Should she? Was gushing part of the job description?

He laughed as if he’d read that thought in her face, pointing a lean tanned finger at her. ‘You, Ms Maydew, are not a romantic.’

He stared at her as if he knew her. It was utterly disconcerting. She had no intention of letting him know that, though.

She pointed her pen back at him. ‘I am, however, an excellent worker.’

‘Perfect.’ His grin widened. ‘You’ll at least provide a port of sanity amid all the craziness.’

That made her lips twitch. She’d watched TV programs about Bridezillas. Was that what they had on their hands with Carla?

‘Hallelujah!’ He raised his hands heavenwards.

‘What?’

‘I finally managed to get a proper smile out of you.’

She stared at him, nonplussed. Why should he care one way or the other whether she smiled or not? Was smiling also part of the job description?

Darn it—it probably was! Give her animals and plants any day.

She forced her lips to curve upwards.

‘Oh, dear me, no! On a scale of one to ten, that’s not even going to score you a three.’ He donned a mock commentator’s voice. ‘And Mia’s smile has only scored a two point one from the Romanian judge!’

She had to choke back a laugh.

He leant his elbows on the table. There was the whole width of the table between them, but somehow he seemed to bridge that distance without any effort at all. Maybe it was a combination of his height and breadth? She could make out the tiny laughter lines that fanned out from his eyes. She suspected Dylan laughed a lot. She noted the dusky eyelashes...ridiculously long and tipped with gold...and the firm fullness of his bottom lip. She’d bet he kissed a lot too. A pulse started up in the centre of her chest.

‘I suspect, Mia Maydew, it’d be really something to make you laugh.’

She couldn’t explain why, but she found herself jerking back as if he’d just propositioned her.

To cover her confusion, she folded her arms and narrowed her eyes. ‘I have your number, Dylan Fairweather.’ She used his full name in the same way he’d used hers. ‘You’re an incorrigible flirt. I suspect you can’t help yourself.’

He raised his hands. ‘Guilty as charged! But it’s flirting without intent...just a bit of frivolous nonsense.’

His smile made her stomach tumble. ‘Then why...?’

‘Because it’s fun.’ His grin widened and she swore he had the devil in his eyes. ‘Aren’t you going to flirt back?’

She couldn’t help it. She laughed.

* * *

Thank heavens! The woman could laugh.

Dylan sat back and let out a breath when the rather plain and schoolmistressy Mia momentarily transformed from uptight and ordinary-looking to mischievous imp. His gaze lingered on her mouth. He hadn’t noticed how wide and generous it was earlier.

Since he’d witnessed her shock at learning of Nora’s accident, and sensed her nerves at being thrust into the role of wedding co-ordinator, he’d wanted to put her at ease. Putting people at ease was his stock in trade. Mia might call it flirting, but it was nothing more than a bit of harmless fun designed to make her laugh and loosen up. And it had half worked—she’d laughed.

Having now seen Mia smile for real, though, he could see that she was neither plain nor schoolmistressy. It was just an attitude she cultivated. Interesting...

Nora had been ecstatic yesterday when he’d mentioned that they’d like Mia as part of their wedding team. Nora mightn’t have known it, but she’d unwittingly supplied a glowing character reference for Mia. He sat back, resisting the urge to rub his eyes. He wanted everything associated with this wedding to be a joy for Carla. He meant to ensure it went without a hitch.

If only he could be certain the damn wedding should go ahead!

The walls of the glassed-in meeting room pressed in on him. He wanted to be outside and in the fresh air. Now! He wanted to be away from the fresh juniper berry scent of the woman opposite. It had his mind turning to black ski runs in St Moritz, with the wind tearing at his hair and the cold making him feel alive. Which was ridiculous. While he might be on leave, this was no holiday. Besides, if there’d been less frivolity in his life recently Carla might never have become embroiled with a man like Thierry.

Carla’s happiness—that was what he had to focus on. ‘Is the lily pond far? Can you show it to me?’

‘You want to see the lily pond now?’

‘Yes.’

‘What about your sister?’

‘She’s on the phone to her intended. She could be hours. I’ll text her so she’ll know where to find us.’

Dutifully he pulled out his phone.

Mia taking me to lily pond. Meet there.

He held it out for her to see and then hit ‘send’.

Without another word Mia led him out into the warm summer sunshine and he filled his lungs with eucalypt-scented air. The small office block sat on the edge of a rectangle of lush lawn that had to be at least two football fields long. Covered picnic tables marched down each of its sides, shaded by a variety of gum trees, plum pines and bottlebrush trees. The red blossoms of the bottlebrushes had attracted a flock of rainbow lorikeets which descended in a noisy colourful rush.

A peacock strutted through the nearest picnic shelter, checking for crumbs and leftovers, while a bush turkey raked through a nearby pile of leaves. All around the air was filled with birdcalls and the scent of warmed native grasses. Groups of people had gathered around the picnic tables and on blankets on the grass. He could hear children’s laughter from the playground he glimpsed through the trees.

‘This place is popular.’

She gestured that they should take a path to the left. ‘It is.’

Her dark brown hair, pulled back into a severe ponytail, gleamed rich and russet in the bright light. She didn’t wear a scrap of make-up. Not that she needed to. She had a perfect peaches and cream complexion that he hadn’t appreciated under the strip lighting of the office.

He pulled his mind back to the matter at hand. ‘Can we book the entire reserve for the wedding?’

‘I’m afraid not. Plum Pines is a public park. What we can do, though, is rope off the area where your event is being held to keep the general public out.’

‘Hmm...’ He’d have to rethink the security firm he’d initially considered hiring. The wedding security would be a bigger job than he’d originally thought.

She glanced up, her gaze sharp. ‘Is that going to be a problem?’

‘Not if I hire a good security firm.’

‘Let me know if you’d like any recommendations.’ She led him across a bridge spanning a large pond. ‘Officially the park is open from seven a.m. to seven p.m.’

He stared out at the expanse of water, noting several black swans sitting on the edge of the far bank. ‘Is this the lily pond?’

‘No, it’s the duck pond.’

He glanced down into the water and blinked when a tortoise poked its small head out of the water. ‘That...’ He halted to point. ‘That was...’

She glanced over the railing. ‘A Common Longneck Tortoise. The pond is full of them.’

Hands on hips, he completed a full circle, taking in the surroundings. Plum Pines was undeniably pretty, and the native forest rising up all around them undeniably grand. He’d visited some of the most exotic places the world had to offer and yet he’d somehow missed experiencing what was in his own backyard.

‘I can’t believe we’re in the middle of the second largest city in New South Wales. It feels as if we’re in the middle of the bush.’

‘Yes, we’re very privileged.’

That was a rote reply if he’d ever heard one—trotted out for the benefit of visitors. What did Mia really think of the place? Did she love it or loathe it? Her lips were pursed into a prim line that had him itching to make her smile again.

‘You’ll need to apply to the council for an event licence that’ll allow the wedding to extend beyond those hours. There shouldn’t be any issue with that, though.’

She moved off again, with her no-nonsense stride, and after another glance at where the tortoise had disappeared he set off after her.

‘Have you had any weddings that haven’t extended beyond seven p.m.?’ All of the weddings he’d ever attended had kicked on into the wee small hours.

‘There’s been a trend for morning weddings with lunchtime receptions. So, yes.’

She was so serious. And literal. He found himself starting to laugh.

She glanced at him, a frown crinkling her forehead. ‘What’s so funny?’

‘You’re not so good at small talk, are you?’

Her face fell and she stuttered to a halt. ‘You want small talk?’

That made him laugh again. ‘How do you enforce the seven p.m. closing time?’

‘We close the gates to the car parks. There’s a hefty fine involved to have the gates opened. Our people, along with your security firm, will have a list of your guests’ number plates so they can come and go as they please.’

‘Right.’

‘And, as Plum Pines is in the middle of suburbia, we don’t get much foot traffic or many homeless people looking for a place to put up for the night.’

That was something, he supposed.

She consulted her notepad. ‘Do you know how many guests the bride and groom are planning to invite?’

‘Carla informs me that she wants “a small and intimate affair”.’

That frown crinkled her brow again. ‘Do you happen to know what your sister’s idea of “small” might be?’

‘I wouldn’t have a clue.’ He had no idea if Thierry came from a large family or not. The other man had closed up like a clam when Dylan had asked him about them. ‘I can’t say that I know what she means by “intimate” either.’

Mia nodded. ‘I think we can guess that fairly accurately—it probably includes fairy lights strung all around the marquee and surrounding trees, white linen tablecloths with centrepieces involving ivy and candles, vintage china and a string quartet.’

‘You don’t sound like you approve.’

She swung to face him. ‘Mr Fair— Dylan. It’s not for me to approve or disapprove. It’s Plum Pines’ job to help Carla plan the wedding she wants.’

‘But—’ He broke off.

‘What were you going to say?’

He read the thought that flashed through her eyes—Gordon Coulter promised nothing would be too much trouble.

‘Dylan, I’ll do my best to deliver whatever is needed.’

Her moss-green eyes stared back at him, earnest and steady, and he found himself needing to pull a breath of air into cramped lungs. ‘I need you to be as committed to this wedding as Carla.’

‘I’m committed—I can promise you that.’ Her teeth worried at her bottom lip. ‘But that’s not what you meant, is it? You want me to be exuberant and...and bouncy.’

He winced, realising how absurd that sounded when uttered out loud. He just wanted to see her smile again. That was what this was all about—and it was pure nonsense on his part.

He rubbed his hand across his nape. ‘I think of weddings and I think of joy and excitement and...and joy.’

He wanted Carla’s life filled with joy—not just her wedding. A fist tightened about his chest. If Thierry hurt her he’d—

Mia moved into his field of vision, making him blink. ‘There’s a lot of behind-the-scenes work that needs doing to make a wedding successful.’ She pointed her pen at him. ‘Joy and excitement are all well and good, but I figure my job is to keep a level head.’

A level head? That was exactly what he needed.

‘Don’t you believe someone can be quietly enthusiastic?’ she asked.

‘Of course they can. I’m sorry.’ He grimaced. ‘It’s the bride who’s supposed to go loopy, right? Not her brother.’

One of those rare smiles peeped out, making his heart thump.

‘You’re excited for her.’ Too soon she sobered again. ‘I’m naturally quiet. It doesn’t mean I’m not invested.’

‘Whereas I’m naturally gregarious.’ It was what made him so good at his job. ‘I sometimes forget that not everyone else is.’

‘Do you still want to see the lily pond?’

‘Yes, please.’ He spoke as gravely as she did. ‘My seeing the lily pond is not dependent on you being exuberant.’

He could have sworn that her lips twitched—for the briefest of moments. It sent a rush of something warm and sweet surging through his veins. He was glad he’d had a chance to meet her on his own. Carla had spoken of her often enough to make his ears prick up. It had been a long time since Carla had made a new female friend.

The question he needed to answer now, though—was Carla more than just a job to Mia? He’d give his right arm for Carla to have a girlfriend with whom to plan her wedding. And whatever the two of them dreamed up—schemed up—he’d make happen.

When he glanced back he found Mia staring at a point beyond him. He swung around to see an emu enclosure...and an emu sitting on the ground in the dirt. He glanced back to find her chewing her lip. ‘Is that emu okay?’ They did sit down, right?

She hesitated. ‘Do you mind...?’ She gestured towards the fence.

‘Not at all.’

‘Hey, Charlie—come on, boy!’ Mia rattled the fence and the emu turned to stare, but when he didn’t otherwise move she pulled out her phone. ‘Janis? It’s Mia. Charlie is looking decidedly under the weather. Can you send someone out to check on him?’ Her lips pressed together as she listened to the person at the other end. ‘He’s sitting down and not responding to my calls.’ She listened some more. ‘But—’

She huffed out a breath and he could see her mentally counting to five.

‘Right. If that’s the best you can do.’ She snapped the phone shut and shoved it back into her pocket.

‘You’re worried about him?’

One slim shoulder lifted. ‘Charlie’s been hand-raised. He’s a social bird. Normally he’d be over here, begging for a treat. Everyone who works here is fond of him.’

Dylan glanced across at the emu. ‘You want to go and give him the once over?’

She glanced around, as if to check that no one had overheard him. ‘Would you mind?’

‘Not at all.’

‘It should only take me a moment. I just want to make sure he doesn’t have something caught around his legs. Discarded plastic bags are the bane of our existence—they seem to blow in from everywhere.’

‘I don’t mind at all.’

Besides, he wanted her full attention once Carla arrived. He wanted her focussed on wedding preparations—not worrying about Charlie the Emu.

She moved towards a gate in the fence and unlocked it with a key she fished out from one of the many pockets of her khaki cargo pants.

She glanced back at him apologetically. ‘I have to ask you to remain on this side of the fence. It’s actually against the law for me to take you in with me.’

‘Believe me, I’m happy to stay on this side of the fence, but...’ he glanced across at Charlie ‘...that emu is huge. What if he attacks you?’

He couldn’t in all conscious just stand here and do nothing.

‘He won’t hurt me. I promise.’

‘In that case I promise to stay on this side of the fence.’

Nevertheless, he found his heart pounding a little too hard as she slipped into the enclosure and made her way towards the giant bird. She ran a soothing hand down its neck, not in the least intimidated by its size. He reminded himself that she was trained to deal with these animals, but he didn’t take his eyes from her.

Slipping her arms beneath the bird, she lifted it to its knees, and Dylan could see something wrapped tight around its ankles. The poor bird was completely tangled! He watched in admiration as she deftly unwound it, shoving the remnants into her pocket. The entire time she crooned soothingly to the emu, telling him what a good boy he was and how pretty he was. Charlie leaned into her as much as he could, trusting her completely.

Finally she placed her arms beneath him with a cheery, ‘Up we come, Charlie.’

The emu gave a kind of strangled beep before a stream of something green and vicious-looking shot out of the back of him, splattering all over the front of Mia’s shirt. Only then did the bird struggle fully to its feet and race off towards a water trough. Mia stumbled backwards, a comical look of surprise on her face. She turned towards Dylan, utterly crestfallen and...and covered in bird poop.

Dylan clapped a hand over his mouth to hold back a shout of laughter. Don’t laugh! An awful lot of women he knew would have simply burst into tears. If he laughed and then she cried he’d have to comfort her...and then he’d end up with bird poop all over him too.

Mia didn’t cry. She pushed her shoulders back and squelched back over to the gate in the fence with as much dignity as she could muster. Still, even she had to find it difficult to maintain a sense of dignity when she was covered in bird poop.

She lifted her chin, as if reading that thought in his face. ‘As you can see, Charlie left me a little present for my pains.’

He swallowed, schooling his features. ‘You did a very good deed, Mia.’

‘The thing is, when an emu gets stressed, the stress can result in...’ she glanced down at herself, her nose wrinkling ‘...diarrhoea.’

‘God, I’m so glad those birds can’t fly!’

The heartfelt words shot out of him, and Mia’s lips started to twitch as if the funny side of the situation had finally hit her.

Dylan couldn’t hold back his laughter any longer. ‘I’m sorry, Mia. You deserve better, but the look on your face when it happened... It was priceless!’

She grinned, tentatively touching the front of her shirt. ‘That rotten bird! Here I am, supposedly trying to impress you and your sister with our marvellous facilities...and now you’re going to live in fear of projectile diarrhoea from the native animals!’

The sudden image that came to his mind made him roar until he was doubled over. Mia threw her head back and laughed right alongside him. She laughed with an uninhibited gusto that transformed her completely. He’d glimpsed the mischievous imp earlier, but now she seemed to come alive—as if her mirth had broken some dam wall—as if she were a desert suddenly blooming with wildflowers.

Dylan’s heart surged against his ribs and for a moment all he could do was stare. ‘You should do that more often, you know. Laugh. You’re beautiful when you laugh.’

She glanced up at him, the laughter dying on her lips. Something in the air shimmered between them, making them both blink. Her gaze lowered momentarily to his lips, before she turned beetroot-red. Swinging away, she stumbled across to the tap that stood by the gate in the fence.

Heat pulsed through him. So...the serious Mia wasn’t immune to his charms after all?

The next moment he silently swore. Damn! He deserved a giant kick to the seat of his pants. She’d accused him of flirting earlier—but he hadn’t meant to give her the wrong impression. He didn’t want her thinking anything could happen between them. All flirtation and teasing on his part was entirely without intent.

She knelt at the tap and scrubbed at her shirt with a piece of rag. She must keep a veritable tool shed of handiness in those cargo pants of hers.

He watched in silence as she washed the worst of the mess from her shirt. ‘I have a handkerchief if you need it.’

‘Thank you, but I think this is the best I’m going to manage until I can change my shirt. Shall we continue on to the lily pond?’

‘Yes, please.’

She gestured towards the path. ‘Do you mind if I ring the office to give them an update on Charlie?’

‘Not at all.’

And just like that they withdrew back into reserved professionalism. But something new pounded through Dylan—a curiosity that hadn’t been there before. What an intriguing paradox Mia was proving to be...a fascinating enigma.

Which you don’t have time for.

With a sigh, he pushed thoughts of Mia from his mind and forced his attention back to the impending wedding. He had to focus on what really mattered. He couldn’t let Carla down—not when she needed him.

CHAPTER TWO

THEY REACHED THE lily pond two minutes later. The moment Dylan clapped eyes on the enchanting glade he understood why Carla had fallen in love with it. True to its name, large green lily pads decorated a small but picturesque body of oval water. Native trees and shrubs curved around three of its sides. The fourth side opened out to a large circle of green lawn.

Mia pointed to that now. ‘This area is large enough for our medium-sized marquee, which holds sixty guests comfortably. That leaves the area behind for the caterers to set up their tents and vans for the food.’

Carla chose that moment to come rushing up—which was just as well, as Dylan had found himself suddenly in danger of getting caught up on the way Mia’s wet shirt clung to her chest.

Carla grinned at Mia—‘Surprise!’—before taking Dylan’s arm and jumping from one foot to the other. ‘Isn’t this just the most perfect spot?’

He glanced down at her—at her smile made radiant with her newfound happiness. ‘It’s lovely,’ he agreed, resolve solidifying in his gut. This wedding had come out of left field, taking him completely by surprise. But if this was what Carla truly wanted, he meant to create the perfect wedding for her. ‘Where’s Thierry?’

A cloud passed across her face. ‘Something’s come up. He can’t make it.’

That was the problem. Thierry. Dylan didn’t like the man.

His sister had suffered enough misery in her life, and Dylan had every intention of protecting her from further heartache.

Carla moved towards Mia. ‘Please tell me you’re not cross with me.’

‘So...you’re not really Carly Smith, frequent visitor and keen student of environmentalism?’

Carla shook her head.

Mia glanced down at her notepad. ‘With your background, I imagine you need to be careful with your privacy.’

Carla winced. ‘Please tell me you don’t hate me. You’ve been so kind. I love shadowing you when you’re on duty for the wildlife displays. You never talk down to me or treat me like I’m stupid. Oh!’ she added in a rush. ‘And just so you know, I really do have a keen interest in the environment and conservation.’

Mia smiled. ‘Of course I don’t hate you.’

That smile made Dylan’s skin tighten. When she smiled she wasn’t plain. And when she laughed she was beautiful.

He pushed those thoughts away. They had no bearing on anything. Her smile told him what he needed to know—Mia genuinely liked his sister. That was what mattered.

‘Right.’ Mia consulted her notepad. ‘I want to hear every tiny detail you have planned for this wedding.’

‘Hasn’t Dylan told you anything?’

Mia glanced at him. ‘We didn’t want to start without you.’

That was unexpectedly diplomatic.

He stood back while the pair started discussing wedding preparations, jumping from one topic to the next as if it made utterly logical sense to do so. He watched them and then shook his head. Had he really thought Carla needed exuberance from Mia? Thank heaven Mia had seen the wisdom in not trying to fake it. He silently blessed her tact in not asking where Mia’s maid of honour or bridesmaids or any female relative might be too.

Carla didn’t have anyone but him.

And now Thierry.

And Mia in the short term.

He crossed his fingers and prayed that Thierry would finally give Carla all that she needed...and all that she deserved.

* * *

Mia spent two hours with Carla and Dylan, though Dylan rarely spoke now Carla was there. She told herself she was glad. She told herself that she didn’t miss his teasing.

Except she did. A little.

Which told her that the way she’d chosen to live her life had a few flaws in it.

Still, even if he had wanted to speak it would have been difficult for him to get a word in, with Carla jumping from topic to topic in a fever of enthusiasm.

She was so different from Carly Smith, the wide-eyed visitor to the park that Mia had taken under her wing. She took in the heightened colour in Carla’s cheeks, the way her eyes glittered, how she could barely keep still, and nodded. Love was exactly like that and Mia wanted no part of it ever again.

Carla spoke at a hundred miles an hour. She cooed about the colour scheme she wanted—pink, of course—and the table decorations she’d seen in a magazine, as well as the cake she’d fallen in love with. She rattled off guest numbers and seating arrangements in one breath and told her about the world-class photographer she was hoping to book in the next. Oh, and then there was the string quartet that was apparently ‘divine’.

She bounced from favours and bouquets to napkins and place settings along with a million other things that Mia hastily jotted down, but the one thing she didn’t mention was the bridal party. At one point Mia opened her mouth to ask, but behind his sister’s back Dylan surreptitiously shook his head and Mia closed it again.

Maybe Carla hadn’t decided on her attendants yet. Mia suspected that the politics surrounding bridesmaid hierarchy could be fraught. Especially for a big society wedding.

Only it wasn’t going to be big. It was going to be a very select and exclusive group of fifty guests. Which might mean that Carla didn’t want a large bridal party.

Every now and again, though, Carla would falter. She’d glance at her brother and without fail Dylan would step in and smooth whatever wrinkle had brought Carla up short, and then off she would go again.

Beneath Carla’s manic excitement Mia sensed a lurking vulnerability, and she couldn’t prevent a sense of protectiveness from welling through her. She’d warmed to Carly—Carla—the moment she’d met her. For all her natural warmth and enthusiasm she had seemed a little lost, and it had soothed something inside Mia to chat to her about the programmes Plum Pines ran, to talk to her about the animals and their daily routines.

As a rule, Mia did her best not to warm towards people. She did her best not to let them warm towards her either. But to remain coolly professional and aloof with Carla—the way she’d tried to be with Dylan—somehow seemed akin to kicking a puppy.

While many of her work colleagues thought her a cold and unfeeling witch, Mia didn’t kick puppies. She didn’t kick anyone. Except herself—mentally—on a regular basis.

‘Can I come back with Thierry tomorrow and go over all this again?’

Why hadn’t the groom-to-be been here today?

‘Yes, of course.’

Hopefully tomorrow Nora would be back to take over and Mia would be safely ensconced on the reserve’s eastern boundary, communing with weeds.

Carla glanced at her watch. ‘I promised Thierry I’d meet him for lunch. I have to run.’ She turned to her brother. ‘Dylan...?’ Her voice held a note of warning.

He raised his hands, palms outwards. ‘I’ll sort everything—I promise. Mia and I will go back to the office and thrash it all out.’

Mia’s chest clenched. Thrash what out? She didn’t have the authority to thrash anything out.

She must have looked crestfallen, because Dylan laughed. ‘Buck up, Mia. It’ll be fun.’ He waggled his eyebrows.

Mia rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t crush the anticipation that flitted through her.

‘I’ll buy you a cup of coffee and a blueberry muffin.’

His grin could melt an ice queen.

Lucky, then, that she was made of sterner stuff than ice.

‘You’ll do no such thing.’ She stowed her notepad in her back pocket as they headed back towards the main concourse. ‘Gordon Coulter would be scandalised. All refreshments will be courtesy of Plum Pines.’

During the last two hours they’d moved from the lily pond back to the office, to pore over brochures, and then outside again to a vacant picnic table, where Carla had declared she wanted to drink in the serenity. Now, with many grateful thanks, Carla moved towards the car park while Mia led Dylan to the Pine Plum’s café.

He grinned at the cashier, and Mia didn’t blame the woman for blinking as if she’d been temporarily blinded.

‘We’ll have two large cappuccinos and two of those.’ He pointed at the cupcakes sitting beneath a large glass dome before Mia had a chance to speak.

‘You mean to eat two cupcakes and drink two mugs of coffee?’ She tried to keep the acerbity out of her voice.

‘No.’ He spoke slowly as if to a child. ‘One coffee and one cake are yours.’

Mia glanced at the cashier. ‘Make that one large cappuccino, one pot of tea and one cupcake, thank you. It’s to go on Nora’s events account.’

Without further ado she led him to a table with an outlook over the duck pond.

‘You’re not hungry?’ he asked.

She was ravenous, but she’d brought her lunch to work, expecting to be stranded on the eastern boundary, and she hated waste. ‘I’m not hungry,’ she said. It was easier than explaining that in Gordon Coulter’s eyes the events account didn’t extend to buying her any food. ‘Besides, I don’t have much of a sweet tooth.’

She frowned, unsure why she’d added that last bit.

For a moment he looked as if he were waging an internal battle with himself, but then he folded his arms on the table and leaned towards her, his eyes dancing. ‘Are you telling me, Mia...?’

She swallowed at the way he crooned her name, as if it were the sweetest of sweet things.

‘...that you don’t like cake?’

He said it with wide eyes, as if the very idea was scandalous. He was teasing her again. She resisted the almost alien urge to tease him back.

‘I didn’t say I didn’t like it. It’s just not something I ever find myself craving.’

His mouth kinked at one corner. Mia did her best to look away.

‘Now I have to discover what it is you do crave.’

How could he make that sound so suggestive?

‘Cheesecake? Ice cream?’

She narrowed her eyes. ‘Why do I get the feeling you’re trying to find something to use as a bribe?’

‘Chocolate?’

Oh. He had her there. ‘Chocolate is in a class of its own.’

He laughed, and something inside her shifted. No shifting! She had to remain on her guard around this man. He’d called her beautiful and something in her world had tilted. She had no intention of letting that happen again.

‘You made my sister very happy today. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.’

It was the last thing she’d expected him to say. ‘I... I was just doing my job.’

‘It was more than that, and we both know it.’

She didn’t want it to be more. This was just a job like any other. ‘Naturally Carla is excited. I enjoyed discussing her plans with her.’

To her surprise, she realised she was speaking nothing less than the truth.

Their order was set in front of them. When the waitress left Dylan broke off a piece of cupcake, generously topped with frosting, and held it out to her. ‘Would you like a taste?’

Unbidden, hunger roared through her. For the briefest of moments she was tempted to open her mouth and let him feed her the morsel. Her throat dried and her stomach churned. On the table, her hands clenched to fists.

She choked out a, ‘No, thank you,’ before busying herself with her tea.

Why now? Why should a man have such an effect on her now? In the last ten months she’d been asked out on dates...the occasional volunteer had tried to flirt with her...but nothing had pierced her armour.

None of them looked like Dylan Fairweather.

True. But was she really so shallow that someone’s looks could have such an impact?

When she glanced back up she saw Gordon Coulter, glaring at her from the café’s doorway. Had he seen Dylan offer her the bite of cake? Great. Just great.

She shuffled her mantel of professionalism back around her. ‘Now, you better tell me what it is you promised Carla you’d sort out. It sounded ominous.’

He popped the piece of cake into his mouth and closed his eyes in bliss as he chewed. ‘You have no idea what you’re missing.’

And she needed to keep it that way.

She tried to stop her gaze lingering on his mouth.

His eyes sprang open, alive with mischief. ‘I bet you love honey sandwiches made with the softest of fresh white bread.’

She had to bite her inner lip to stop herself from laughing. ‘Honey makes my teeth ache.’

The man was irrepressible, and it occurred to her that it wasn’t his startling looks that spoke to her but his childish sense of fun.

‘Ha! But I nearly succeeded in making you laugh again.’

She didn’t laugh, but she did smile. It was impossible not to.

Mia didn’t do fun. Maybe that was a mistake too. Maybe she needed to let a little fun into her life and then someone like Dylan wouldn’t rock her foundations so roundly.

He made as if to punch the air in victory. ‘You should do that more often. It’s not good for you to be so serious all the time.’

His words made her pull back. She knew he was only teasing, but he had no idea what was good for her.

She pulled her notepad from her pocket and flipped it open to a new page. ‘Will you please tell me what it is you promised Carla you’d take care of?’

He surveyed her as he took a huge bite of cake. She tried not to fidget under that oddly penetrating gaze.

‘Don’t you ever let your hair down just a little?’

‘This is my job. And this—’ she gestured around ‘—is my place of employment. I have a responsibility to my employer to not “let my hair down” on the job.’ She tapped her pen against the notepad. ‘I think it’s probably worth mentioning that you aren’t my employer’s only wedding account either.’

She spoke gently, but hoped he sensed the thread of steel beneath her words. There also were cages that needed cleaning, animals that needed feeding and logbooks to fill out. They weren’t all going to get magically done while Dylan lingered over coffee and cake.

And it didn’t matter how much he might temporarily fill her with an insane desire to kick back and take the rest of the day off—that wasn’t going to happen.

‘Ouch.’ He said it with a good-natured grin. ‘But you’re right. Carla and I have taken up enough of your time for one day. Especially as we’ll be back tomorrow.’

He was coming too? She tried to ignore the way her heart hitched.

‘Mia, do you know what line of work I’m in?’

Even she, who’d spent most of her adult life living under a rock, knew what Dylan Fairweather did for a living. ‘You created and run Fairweather Event Enterprises.’ More widely known as Fairweather Events or FWE. Dylan had made his name bringing some of the world’s most famous, not to mention notorious, rock acts to Australia.

Under his direction, Dylan’s company had produced concerts of such spectacular proportions they’d gone down in rock history. His concerts had become a yardstick for all those following.

FWE had been in charge of last year’s sensationally successful charity benefit held in Madison Square Garden in New York. He was regularly hired by royalty to oversee national anniversary celebrations, and by celebrities for their private birthday parties and gala events. Dylan Fairweather was a name with a capital N.

‘The thing is...’ He shuffled towards her, his expression intent now rather than teasing. ‘I know that Plum Pines has its own events team, but I want to be the person running this particular show.’

Very slowly, she swallowed. ‘By “this particular show”, I take it you’re referring to Carla’s wedding?’

He nodded.

Her heart thumped. Nora would be disappointed.

‘I want to do this for Carla,’ he continued, fully in earnest now. ‘The only thing I can give her that’s of any worth is my time. You have to understand it’s not that I don’t trust the Plum Pines staff, it’s that I want to give my sister something that’ll actually mean something to her—something she can cherish forever.’

Mia almost melted on the spot. To have someone who cared about you so much that they’d go to such lengths... That was—

‘Mia?’

She started. ‘I’m afraid I don’t have the kind of clout to authorise an arrangement like that. But I’ll present your case to Nora and Mr Coulter. Please be assured they’ll do everything they can to accommodate your and Carla’s wishes.’ She bit her lip. ‘They may have some additional questions that they’d like to ask you.’ Questions she lacked the expertise and foresight to ask.

He immediately slid his business card across the table to her. ‘They can contact me at any time.’

She picked it up. It was a simple card on good-quality bond, with embossed lettering in dark blue—a deeper and less interesting shade than his eyes.

He slid another card across the table to her. ‘Would you write down your number for me, Mia?’

She dutifully wrote down the Plum Pines office number, along with Nora’s work number.

He glanced at it and his lips pursed. ‘I was hoping for your number.’

Her hand shook as she reached for her tea. ‘Why?’

‘Because I think you could be an ally. You, I believe, approve of my plan to be Carla’s wedding co-ordinator.’

She hesitated. ‘I think it’s a lovely idea.’ Surely it couldn’t hurt to admit that much? ‘But I think you ought to know that I have very little influence here.’

‘I think you’re selling yourself short.’

‘If you want to speak to me directly, ring the office and ask them to page me.’ She couldn’t believe she’d told him to do that, but she couldn’t find it in herself to regret the offer either.

For a moment she thought he’d press the matter. Instead he stood and held out his hand. ‘Until tomorrow, then, Mia.’

She stood too and shook it, eager to be away from him. ‘Goodbye, Dylan.’

She didn’t tell him that in all likelihood she wouldn’t see him tomorrow. Funny how suddenly the eastern boundary didn’t seem as exciting a prospect as it had earlier in the day.

She’d barely settled down in the meeting room with the office laptop, to type up her copious notes for Nora, when the receptionist tapped on the glass door.

‘Mr Coulter wants to see you, Mia.’

To grill her about how things had gone with the Fairweathers, no doubt. She’d have rather discussed it all with Nora first, but she couldn’t very well refuse to speak to him.

Taking a deep breath, she knocked on his door, only entering when he bellowed, ‘Come in.’

She left the door ajar. She didn’t fully trust Gordon Coulter. ‘You wanted to see me?’

‘Yes.’

He didn’t invite her to sit. The smile he sent her chased ice down her spine.

‘It’s my very great pleasure to inform you, Ms Maydew, that you’re fired. Effective immediately.’

The room spun. Mia’s chest cramped. She couldn’t lose this job. It was all that she had. Her fingers went cold. She needed this job!

* * *

‘You’re terminating my contract? But...why?’

Dylan stood on the threshold of Gordon Coulter’s office, his head rocking back at the words he heard emerging from the other side of the door.

Gordon Coulter was firing Mia?

‘Your behaviour with Dylan Fairweather today was scandalous and utterly inappropriate. You’re not here to make sexual advances towards our clients. You’re here to perform your duties as efficiently and as capably as possible—a duty that’s obviously beyond you and your bitch-on-heat morals.’

Darkness threatened the edges of Dylan’s vision. Mia hadn’t made one inappropriate advance towards him—not one! His hands curled into fists. A pity the same couldn’t be said for him towards her. He hadn’t been able to resist flirting with her in the café—just a little bit. He hadn’t been able to resist making her laugh again.

This was his fault. How could he have been so careless as to put her in this position?

Gordon continued to wax lyrical on a list of Mia’s imaginary faults and Dylan’s insides coiled up, tight and lethal. Gordon Coulter was a pompous ass!

‘But even if I was prepared to overlook all that,’ Gordon continued, his tone clearly saying that he had no intention of doing so, ‘I refuse to disregard the fact that when you entered the emu enclosure you put the safety of a member of the public at risk.’

No way, buddy!

Dylan backed up two steps and then propelled himself forward with a cheery, ‘Knock-knock!’ before bursting into the office.

Two sets of eyes swung to him. Mia’s face was ashen. Guilt plunged through him like a serrated-edge knife.

You’re nothing but a trust fund baby without substance or significance.

As true as that might be, it meant that he knew how to act entitled and high-handed. He used that to his advantage now, striding into the room as if he owned it and everything inside it.

‘You moved very quickly to bring my proposal to the attention of your superiors, Mia. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.’

He took a seat across from Gordon, making himself completely at home.

‘I hope you realise what a gem you have here, Gordon.’ He pulled Mia down to the seat beside him. How dared Gordon leave her standing like some recalcitrant child deserving of punishment and castigation? ‘Have you finished telling Gordon about my proposal, Mia?’

‘Um...no, not yet.’

She swallowed and he saw how valiantly she hauled her composure back into place. Atta girl!

‘I’m afraid I haven’t had a chance.’

‘Oh, before I forget—’ Dylan turned back to Gordon ‘—my sister and I will be returning tomorrow with Thierry. If he approves our plans, and if you accept my proposal, then we’ll be booking Plum Pines as Carla and Thierry’s wedding venue.’

Dollar signs all but flashed in Gordon’s eyes. ‘That’s splendid news!’

‘Carla has requested that Mia be available for tomorrow’s meeting. I’m sure that won’t be a problem.’

‘Well, I—’

‘Now to my proposal...’ he continued, making it obvious that he took Gordon’s agreement for granted. He saw Mia bite her lip, as if to hold back a laugh. The tightness in his chest eased a fraction.

‘While I understand that Plum Pines has a talented and capable events team, I want to be completely in charge of Carla’s wedding preparations—bringing in my own people, et cetera. I understand this isn’t how Plum Pines normally operates, but if I promise to acquire all the necessary licenses and, as a show of gratitude, donate...say...a hundred thousand dollars to the Plum Pines Nature Fund, I was hoping you might make an exception.’

Gordon’s fleshy mouth dropped open. He hauled it back into place. ‘I’m sure we can find a way to accommodate such a reasonable request from such a generous benefactor.’

Dylan rubbed his hands together. ‘Excellent.’

Gordon Coulter was ridiculously transparent. Rumour had it he was planning to run for mayor next year. A donation as sizable as Dylan’s would be a real feather in his cap. Dylan just hoped the good people of Newcastle were smart enough not to elect such a small-minded bully to office.

He made a note to donate a large sum to Gordon’s opponent’s campaign.

‘If there’s any further way we can assist you, don’t hesitate to ask. We’re here to provide you with the very best service we can.’

‘Well, now that you mention it... Carla would like Mia as her official liaison between FWE and Plum Pines.’

Gordon’s face darkened. ‘Mia doesn’t have the necessary training. We can provide you with a far better level of service than that, and—’

‘It’s non-negotiable, I’m afraid.’ He spoke calmly. ‘If there’s no Mia there’ll be no Fairweather wedding at Plum Pines—and, sadly, no hundred-thousand-dollar donation.’

It was as simple as that, and Gordon could take it or leave it. If he refused to let Mia act as liaison then Dylan would whisk her away from Plum Pines and find a position for her in his own organisation. He was always on the lookout for good people.

In fact, poaching her was a damn fine plan.

Gordon wouldn’t pass on it, though. Dylan knew his type too well.

‘If you’re happy with Mia’s limited experience...’ he began, in that pompous fashion.

‘Supremely so.’

‘I’ll have to insist that she consult with Nora closely,’ he blustered, in an attempt to save face.

‘Absolutely.’

Gordon swallowed a few times, his jowls quivering. ‘In that case I’ll raise no objections.’

Dylan leant back in his chair. ‘Excellent.’

Mia leaned forward in hers, her dark gaze skewering Gordon to the spot. ‘And our earlier conversation...?’

His mouth opened and closed before he shuffled upright in his seat. ‘In the light of these...new developments, any further action will be suspended—pending your on-the-job performance from here on in.’

Very slowly she leaned back. Dylan silently took in the way her fingers opened and closed around each other. Eventually she nodded. ‘Very well.’

Dylan stood. ‘I understand you’re a busy man, Gordon, so I won’t take up any more of your valuable time. Mia...’ He turned to her and she shot to her feet. ‘I forgot to give you Carla’s mobile number. You’re going to need it. I’m afraid she’ll be leaving you messages day and night.’

‘That won’t be an issue,’ Gordon inserted. ‘Mia understands that here at Plum Pines our clients are our priority. She’ll be at your sister’s beck and call twenty-four-seven.’

Dylan barely restrained himself from reciting the ‘Maximum Ordinary Hours of Employment’ section of the New South Wales Industrial Relations Act. Instead he gestured for Mia to precede him out through the door.

‘Lead me to your trusty notepad.’

He closed the door behind them and Mia didn’t speak until they were safely ensconced in the meeting room.

She swung to him. ‘You did that on purpose, didn’t you? You overheard him trying to fire me so you jumped in and saved my job.’

His chest expanded at the way she looked at him—as if he’d ridden in and saved the day.

She pressed a hand to her chest. ‘I think I just fell a little bit in love with you.’

She was the strangest mix of seriousness and generosity he’d ever come across. And totally adorable to boot.

He leaned towards her, but she took a step backwards.

‘Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. It was a stupid thing to say. I only meant I was grateful—very grateful—for you coming to my defence like you did.’

‘You’re welcome. Gordon is a pompous ass.’

‘A pompous ass who has the power to terminate my traineeship whenever he sees fit.’

‘He’d need to show good cause in the Industrial Relations Court. Don’t you forget that. In fact—’ he widened his stance ‘—why don’t you forget Gordon and Plum Pines and come and work for me?’

The beginnings of a smile touched her lips. It made his pulse beat that little bit harder.

‘I don’t believe I have enough...exuberance for your line of work, Dylan.’

‘I was wrong about that. You’re perfect.’

‘No, I’m not!’ Her voice came out tart. Too tart.

He frowned. ‘I meant that your work ethic is perfect. Your customer service skills are impeccable.’ That was all he’d meant.

She swallowed before gesturing for him to take a seat. ‘If you want me working so closely with you and Carla then there’s something you need to know about me.’

He sat in the chair at the head of the table. ‘I know all I need to know.’

She fixed him with that compelling gaze of hers, but for the life of him he couldn’t read her expression. She took the chair immediately to his left, gripping her hands together until her knuckles turned white.

‘I’d rather be the one to tell you than for you to hear it from other sources.’

He straightened. What on earth...? ‘I’m listening.’

He watched the compulsive bob of her throat as she swallowed. Her hands gripped each other so tightly he was sure she’d cut off the blood supply to her fingers if she weren’t careful.

‘Ten months ago I was released from jail after serving a three-year prison sentence for committing fraud. I think it’s only fair that you know I’m an ex-convict.’

CHAPTER THREE

MIA WAITED WITH a growing sense of dread for Dylan’s face to close and for him to turn away.

His open-mouthed shock rang through her like a blow, but his face didn’t close. He didn’t turn away.

His frown did deepen, though, and she could read the thoughts racing behind the vivid blue of his eyes.

‘No,’ she said, holding his gaze. ‘I wasn’t wrongfully convicted, there were no mitigating circumstances.’ She swallowed. ‘Unless you want to count the fact that I was young and stupid.’

And utterly in thrall to Johnnie Peters. So in love she’d have done anything he’d asked of her. So in love she had done anything he’d asked of her.

‘You’re not going to tell me any more than that?’

Curiosity sharpened his gaze, but it wasn’t the kind of avid, voyeuristic curiosity that made her want to crawl under a rock. It held a warmth and sympathy that almost undid her.

Swallowing again, she shook her head. ‘It’s sordid and unpleasant and it’s in the past. According to the justice system, I’ve paid my debt to society. I won’t ever steal again. I’ll never break the law again. But I understand that in light of these circumstances my word isn’t worth much. I’ll completely understand if you’d prefer to deal with Nora rather than with me.’

He didn’t say anything.

‘You don’t need to worry about my job. You’ve done enough to ensure I won’t be fired...at least, not this week.’ She’d aimed for levity, but it fell flat.

He lifted his chin. ‘I meant what I said—come and work for me.’

She realised now what she’d known on a subconscious level after only ten minutes in his company—Dylan Fairweather was a good man.

‘I appreciate the offer, I really do, but besides the fact that you don’t know me—’

‘I know you have a good work ethic. If the way you’ve treated Carla is anything to go by, where clients are concerned nothing is too much trouble for you. They’re valuable assets in an employee.’

‘According to Gordon I have a problem with authority.’

He grinned, and leaned in so close she could smell the nutmeg warmth of his skin. ‘That’s something we have in common, then.’

How was it possible for him to make her laugh when they were having such a serious conversation? She sobered, recalling her earlier impulsive, I think I just fell a little bit in love with you. She should never have said it. Instinct warned her that Dylan could wreak havoc on her heart if she let him.

She couldn’t let him. She wasn’t giving any man that kind of power over her again.

She pulled in a breath. ‘I was fortunate to be awarded this traineeship. The opportunity was given to me in good faith and I feel honour-bound to make the most of it.’

‘Admirable.’

It wasn’t admirable at all. She needed a job—a way to earn a living. For the two-year tenure of her traineeship she’d be in paid employment. Maybe at the end of that time she’d have proved herself worthy and someone would take a chance on employing her. She needed a way to support herself. After what she’d done she couldn’t ask the welfare system to support her.

‘Do you have a passion for conservation?’

‘Conservation is an important issue.’

‘That’s not the same thing,’ he pointed out.

Passion was dangerous. She’d done all she could to excise it from her life. Besides, busying herself with weed extermination programmes, soil erosion projects, and koala breeding strategies—plants, dirt and animals—meant she had minimal contact with people.

And as far as she was concerned that was a very good thing.

‘Here.’ He pulled a chocolate bar from his pocket. ‘This is the real reason I came back to the office.’

Frowning, she took it, careful not to touch him as she did so.

‘You said chocolate belonged in a class of its own and...’

He shrugged, looking a little bit embarrassed, and something inside her started to melt.

No melting!

‘I wanted to thank you for your patience with both Carla and me today.’

‘It’s—’

‘I know—it’s your job, Mia.’

Dear Lord, the way he said her name...

‘But good work should always be acknowledged. And...’ An irrepressible smile gathered at the corner of his mouth. ‘I fear more of the same will be asked of you tomorrow.’

It took a moment for his words to sink in. ‘You mean...?’

‘I mean we want you, Mia. Not Nora. I want everything associated with this wedding to be a joy for Carla. She likes you. And that’s rarer than you might think.’ He suddenly frowned. ‘How much will taking charge of this affect your traineeship? Will I be creating a problem for you there?’

He was giving her an out. If she wanted one. If...

She pulled in a breath. ‘The wedding is nine months away, right?’

He nodded.

Being Carla’s liaison wouldn’t be a full-time job. Very slowly she nodded too. ‘That leaves me plenty of time to continue with my fieldwork and studies.’

If it weren’t for Dylan she wouldn’t have a job right now or a chance to finish her traineeship. She owed him. Big-time. She made a resolution then and there to do all she could to make Carla’s wedding a spectacular success.

Her gaze rested on the chocolate bar he’d handed to her earlier. She suddenly realised how she could tacitly thank him right now. Without giving herself time to think, she ripped off the wrapper and bit into it.

‘I’m ravenous. And this is so good.’

As she’d known he would, he grinned in delight that his gift had given her pleasure. She closed her eyes to savour the soft milky creaminess, and when she opened them again she found his gaze fastened on her lips, the blue of his eyes deepening and darkening, and her stomach pitched.

She set the chocolate to the table and wiped damp palms down her trousers. ‘I... This is probably a stupid thing to raise...’

He folded his arms. ‘Out with it.’

‘I don’t believe you have any interest in me beyond that of any employer, but after what Gordon just accused me of...’

She couldn’t meet his eyes. The thing was, Gordon had recognised what she’d so desperately wanted to keep hidden—that she found Dylan attractive. Very attractive. He’d woken something inside her that she desperately wanted to put back to sleep.

‘I just want to make it clear that I’m not in the market for a relationship. Any kind of relationship—hot and heavy or fun and flirty.’

She read derision in his eyes. But before she could dissolve into a puddle of embarrassment at his feet she realised the derision was aimed at himself—not at her.

‘No relationships? Noted.’ He rolled his shoulders. ‘Mia, I have a tendency to flirt—it’s a result of the circles I move in—but it doesn’t mean anything. It’s just supposed to be a bit of harmless fun. My clients like to feel important and, as they are important to me, I like to make them feel valued. I plan celebrations, parties, and it’s my job to make the entire process as enjoyable as possible. So charm and a sense of fun have become second nature to me. If I’ve given you the wrong impression...’

‘Oh, no, you haven’t!’

‘For what it’s worth, I’m not in the market for a relationship at the moment either.’

She glanced up.

Why not?

That’s no concern of yours.

Humour flitted through his eyes. ‘But what about friendship? Do you have anything against that?’

That made her smile. People like Dylan didn’t become friends with people like her. Once the wedding was over she’d never see him again.

‘I have nothing whatsoever against friendship.’ She’d sworn never again to steal or cheat. A little white lie, though, didn’t count. Did it...?

* * *

Thierry Geroux, Carla’s fiancé, was as dark and scowling as Carla and Dylan were golden and gregarious. Mia couldn’t help but wonder what on earth Carla saw in him.

She pushed that thought away. It was none of her business.

As if he sensed the direction of her thoughts, Thierry turned his scowl on her. She wanted to tell him not to bother—that his scowls didn’t frighten her...she’d been scowled at by professionals. She didn’t, of course. She just sent him one of the bland smiles she’d become so adept at.

‘Do you have any questions, Mr Geroux?’ He’d barely spoken two words in the last hour.

‘No.’

‘None?’ Dylan double-checked, a frown creasing his brow.

‘Stop bouncing,’ Thierry said in irritation to Carla, who clung to his arm, shifting her weight from one leg to the other.

‘But, Thierry, it’s so exciting!’

Nevertheless she stopped bouncing.

Thierry turned to Dylan. ‘Carla is to have the wedding she wants. As you’re the events expert, I’m sure you have that under control.’

He ignored Mia completely. Which suited Mia just fine.

Dylan turned back to Mia. ‘There could be quite a gap between the end of the wedding ceremony and the start of the reception, while Carla and Thierry have photographs taken.’

Mia nodded. ‘It;s often the case. With it being late spring there’ll still be plenty of light left. I can organise a tour of the wildlife exhibits for those who are interested.’

‘Oh!’ Carla jumped up and down. ‘Could we do that now?’

‘Absolutely.’

The exhibits—a system of aviaries and enclosures—were sympathetically set into the natural landscape. A wooden walkway meandered through the arrangement at mid-tree height. This meant visitors could view many of the birds at eye level, practically commune with the rock wallabies sunning themselves on their craggy hillside, and look down on the wombats, echidnas and goannas in their pens.

At the heart of the wildlife walk—and the jewel in its crown—was the koala house. Set up like an enormous tree house, the wooden structure was covered on three sides to weatherproof it for visitors, with an arena opening out below full of native flora and an artfully designed pond.

The entire complex was enclosed in a huge aviary. A visitor could glance up into the trees to view the variety of colourful parrots, or along the rafters of the tree house to see the napping tawny frogmouths. Below were a myriad of walking birds, along with the occasional wallaby and echidna. But at eye-level were the koalas on their specially designed poles, where fresh eucalyptus leaves were placed daily. No wire or special glass separated man from beast—only a wooden railing and a ten-foot drop into the enclosure below.

‘I love this place,’ Carla breathed as they entered.

‘This is really something,’ Dylan murmured in Mia’s ear.

His breath fanned the hair at her temples and awareness skidded up her spine. ‘It’s a special place,’ she agreed, moving away—needing to put some distance between them.

When they’d looked their fill, she led them back outside to a series of small nocturnal houses—the first of which was the snake house.

Carla gave a shudder. ‘No matter how much I try, I don’t like snakes.’

They didn’t bother Mia, but she nodded. ‘We don’t have to linger. We can move straight on to the amphibian house and then the possum house.’

‘C’mon, Thierry.’

Carla tugged on his arm, evidently eager to leave, but he disengaged her hand. ‘You go ahead. I find snakes fascinating.’

Finally the man showed some interest—hallelujah!

Thierry glanced at her. ‘Mia might be kind enough to stay behind with me and answer some questions?’

The snakes might not bother her, but Mia loathed the caged darkness of the nocturnal houses, hating the way they made her feel trapped. She didn’t betray any of that by so much of a flicker of her eyelids, though.

‘I’d be happy to answer any questions.’

Dylan caught her eye and gestured that he and Carla would move on, and she nodded to let him know that she and Thierry would catch up.

She moved to stand beside Thierry, nodding at the slender green snake with the bright yellow throat that he currently surveyed. ‘That’s a tree snake. It’s—’

‘I can read.’

She sucked in a breath. Was he being deliberately rude? She lifted her chin. He might be hard work, but she was used to hard work.

‘They’re very common,’ she continued, ‘but rarely seen as they’re so shy. They seldom bite. Their main form of defence is to give off a rather dreadful odour when threatened.’

Mia was convinced there was a metaphor for life trapped in there somewhere.

‘You give off a bad smell too.’

Thierry moved so quickly that before she knew what he was doing he had her trapped between the wall and a glass display unit—the olive python on the other side didn’t stir.

‘Dylan told us about your background—that you’re nothing but a common little thief with a criminal record.’

The sudden sense of confinement had her heart leaping into her throat before surging back into her chest to thump off the walls of her ribs.

‘When I was in jail—’ with a supreme effort she kept her voice utterly devoid of emotion ‘—I learned a lot about self-defence and how to hurt someone. If you don’t take two steps back within the next three seconds you’re going to find yourself on your back in a screaming mess of pain.’

He waited the full three seconds, but he did move away. Mia tried to stop her shoulders from sagging as she dragged a grateful breath into her lungs.

He stabbed a finger at her. ‘I don’t like you.’

And that should matter to me because...? She bit the words back. She’d had a lot of practice at swallowing sarcastic rejoinders. She’d made it a policy long ago not to inflame a situation if she could help it.

‘Carla and Dylan are too trusting by half—but you won’t find me so gullible.’

Giving a person the benefit of the doubt did not make Dylan gullible.

‘You’re not a fit person for Carla to know. You stay away from her, you hear? If you don’t I’ll cause trouble for you...and that’s a promise.’

‘Is everything okay here?’

A strip of sunlight slashed through the darkness as Dylan came back through the doors. The doors were merely thick flaps of overlapping black rubber that kept the sun out. A few threads of light backlit him, haloing his head and shading his face. Mia didn’t need to see his face to sense the tension rippling through him.

Without another word Thierry snapped away and moved through the rubber panels, his footsteps loud on the wooden walkway as he strode off.

‘Are you okay?’

Dylan’s concern, absurdly, made her want to cry in a way that Thierry’s threats hadn’t.

‘Yes, of course.’ She turned and gestured to the snakes. ‘Just so you know: a reptile encounter can be arranged for the wedding guests too, if anyone’s interested. Though it has to be said it’s not to everyone’s taste.’

* * *

Dylan took Mia’s arm and led her back out into the sunshine, wincing at her pallor.

Her colour started to return after a few deep breaths and he found the rapid beat of his heart slowed in direct proportion.

‘I heard the last part of what Thierry said to you.’

He hadn’t liked the way Thierry had asked Mia to stay behind. It was why he’d doubled back—to make sure everything was okay.

‘It’s not the first time someone has taken exception to my past, Dylan, and I expect it won’t be the last.’

Her revelation yesterday had shocked him—prison!—but he’d have had to be blind not to see how much she regretted that part of her life. He’d sensed her sincerity in wanting to create a new, honest life for herself. She’d paid dearly for whatever mistakes lay in her past. As far as he was concerned she should be allowed to get on with things in peace.

Thierry’s threat, the utter contempt in his voice...

Dylan’s hands clenched. It had been a long time since he’d wanted to knock someone to the ground. He’d wanted to deck Thierry, though. He’d wanted to beat the man black and blue.

He dragged a hand down his face. It had only been the thought of who’d pay for his actions—Mia—that had stopped him.

You didn’t even think of Carla!

Mia stared up at him, her gaze steady. ‘Don’t blame Thierry. He only has Carla’s welfare in mind.’

‘It doesn’t excuse his behaviour.’ A scowl scuffed through him. ‘The man’s a bully and a jerk. What the hell does Carla see in him?’

She gestured that they should continue along the path towards the amphibian house. ‘Don’t you know?’

He didn’t have a single clue.

‘Haven’t the two of you talked about him?’

Not really. But to say as much would only reveal what a poor excuse for a brother he’d been to Carla these last twelve months.

He glanced across at Mia and found that she’d paled again, but before he could ask her if she was okay she’d plunged into the darkness of the amphibian house. Was she worried about running into Thierry again?

He plunged right in after her.

‘Do you want to linger?’

He couldn’t have said how he knew, but he sensed the tension coiling through her. ‘No.’

She led them back outside and gulped in a couple of breaths. She stilled when she realised how closely he watched her.

He reached out to stop her from moving on. ‘What’s wrong?’

She glanced away. ‘What makes you think anything’s wrong?’

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