At the Billionaire's Beck and Call? / High-Society Secret Baby: At the Billionaire's Beck and Call? / High-Society Secret Baby

Five

Macy swallowed away the tightness in her throat, clenched her fingers around her briefcase strap and stepped onto the chartered jet. Her fear of flying meant each plane trip was a leap of faith, but she would never give in and let anxiety rule her life. She was stronger than her fear.

Seeing Ryder up ahead, already settled into his spacious seat, she made her legs move and ignored the turmoil in her belly.

“Good morning, Macy,” his deep voice rumbled.

“Good morning,” she said through stiff lips.

His eyes changed, suddenly alert and focused. Had he guessed? The last person she wanted to know about her phobia was her boss. Between him being her employer, and her body’s uncontrollable reaction to his, she already felt too vulnerable around him. Handing him knowledge of her weakness would be a step too far.

She stopped at a seat away from his and put her bag down to take off her coat. But Ryder indicated the seat beside him.

“Sit with me. You can brief me on what we’ll see in Sydney.”

Macy hesitated but covered her pause by folding her bulky jacket. If she sat beside him, she might be able to conceal her fear of flying for most of the trip, but the landing would be harder to bluff. She hated landings.

“I’ve already briefed you on the trip and I can’t explain much more until we arrive in the shop space. Surely you’d like the time to catch up on reports from your other holdings?” She’d seen Bernice pack a pile of them in his briefcase.

Ryder stretched out in his seat, his long legs crossing at the ankles. “Why would I want to read reports about companies Bramson Holdings owns, when I can speak face-to-face about this one?”

Macy held back a sigh as she collected her bag and coat and moved across to the recliner seat beside him. She’d be fine. She’d covered her anxiety from the world for years, and no one had ever guessed. Why would Ryder be any different?

She settled in, buckling her seat belt firmly, then glanced across at her boss.

He watched her with his heavy-lidded gaze. “Tell me about your time in Melbourne.”

His voice, so deep and resonant, seemed to travel through her body. She’d been trying not to let it affect her in the past week—an unrealistic goal at the best of times—but now he was so near, it felt as if his voice was caressing her skin, filling her senses, stirring her blood.

In an attempt to stem the tide, she blinked slowly. “There’s nothing to tell.”

He turned in his seat, squaring his shoulders to her, a teasing glint in his eye. “I can’t believe there’s nothing. You must have something you can tell me.”

His body was close, so close, making her think of the night they kissed, and it made her a little light-headed. She could almost feel his hard chest under her palms again, his warm breath on her cheek.

She swallowed. “There is nothing about my life you would find interesting.”

“I beg to differ.” He folded his arms, waiting.

Her pulse picked up speed. How would he react if she leaned over and kissed him now? He hadn’t tried to kiss her since the night in her building, but he’d made the offer in his office that he’d be ready and waiting if she changed her mind. And every so often she’d caught him looking at her. Perhaps he might return the kiss and she could sink into the heaven she’d found in his embrace….

He still sat with his arms crossed over his broad chest, waiting, but something in his expression changed. Deepened. As if he was reading her mind. Slowly, his arms unraveled and he reached across to smooth a wisp of hair that had escaped her French twist.

The breath stalled in her lungs. Her body heated. The feel of his hand finally making contact with her skin again—one simple touch—aroused her more than any other man could achieve with a concerted effort.

For one uninhibited, perfect moment, she leaned into his palm as it lingered on her cheek. She watched his pupils dilate and his chest expand with his indrawn breath.

Then she shored up all the willpower in her possession and moved away from his hand. Ryder Bramson was dangerously attractive. She wasn’t the only one to notice—the tabloids loved to run pictures of him. What she felt wasn’t anything more than what any woman would feel sitting beside him. And her father was counting on that to help him gain a son-in-law and sell his company.

Ryder must know his own appeal to women, too. And his plan mirrored her father’s—he wanted her to marry him so he could buy Ashley International. He wouldn’t be above using his appeal when the stakes were high.

Such a simple trap.

One she couldn’t afford to fall into.

Heart still racing, Macy looked down at her lap, and smoothed her hands over her taupe linen trousers, ironing out the wrinkles from sitting. From the corner of her eye, she saw Ryder’s hand drop and she fought with herself not to reach for it, to reach for him.

Without saying a word, he leaned back into his seat, looking out the window, just as the seat belt light went on and the copilot ducked his head out the door.

“We’re ready for takeoff, Mr. Bramson.”

“Thank you, Brent,” Ryder replied.

Macy needed to get them back onto a professional footing. Needed to be able to talk to her boss without her imagination pulling her in futile directions.

She cleared her throat and grabbed the first topic that came to mind. “The retail space we’ll be seeing has only recently come onto the market.”

Ryder searched her face, his gaze resting on her mouth for a moment, then nodded. “Tell me why you think it’s better for our needs than the others on your list.”

Macy relaxed. She was back on solid ground—business. She could do this. Work side by side with a boss she was attracted to.

If she could just survive the plane trip without losing her head, she’d make it.

Ryder checked his watch. They’d be landing soon.

He’d had a fruitful discussion with Macy about potential policies and directions that Chocolate Diva Australia could take, but there had been something different about her. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on, but it was almost like she was on edge.

Had it just been from when he’d given into sweet temptation and smoothed her hair from her face, or was it more?

As they prepared to land, the seat belt sign lit up and Ryder buckled himself in. Macy had no need to—she’d been buckled in the whole journey—but she reached for the armrests. Her grip was a little tighter than necessary. Looking across at her, he saw the slightest tension in her jaw, the empty look in her eyes as she stared straight ahead. As if she was anxious but trying to cover it from him.

“Not fond of landings?” he asked.

She shrugged casually, belying the rigidity of her body. “They’re not my favorite part of the flight.”

She didn’t elaborate, and knowing Macy she’d never admit a weakness. But her body language drew him in. “Had a bad experience with a landing?”

Her eyes flicked to his then back to the front. They were starting to slowly descend now and her knuckles whitened on the armrests. “No.”

He placed his hand over hers and stroked the back with his fingers. Then something clicked in his brain. Her mother had been relatively famous, with her acting career just taking off, when she’d been killed in a plane crash. He kicked himself for not thinking ahead and connecting the dots. For not realizing this could be hard for her.

The world had seen the images of the crumpled plane, had been flooded with photos of her mother on a movie set one week before her death, and had moved on. But this was Macy’s private pain—completely removed from the public circus. He was almost reluctant to pry into something so personal. But another glance at her clenched hands and he knew he couldn’t leave her as she was.

“Your mother? “ he asked softly.

She nodded once, still staring ahead, her body radiating tension now—as if his insight had given her permission to feel the fear more fully.

He peeled her fingers from the armrest and gripped her hand tightly in his, his heart ripping open for the little girl whose mother hadn’t come home. For the woman here and now. He wanted to shield her, gather her against him and tell her she’d be all right.

But he couldn’t let her see that—his pity would only make her feel more vulnerable, a fate worse than death to Macy.

He cast around for a way to take her mind off the situation. Something … distracting. She desperately needed a life raft. No question, she’d hate grabbing onto it, but she needed one nonetheless. And he was the only one here.

He looked at the scenery out the window, and found an idea. “Have I told you about my ideal Australian holiday?”

Her eyes darted to his, confused, then back to the front of the plane.

“Obviously I’ve failed to mention it. Perhaps I’ll get time for it after we’ve finished with the business from your project.” He settled into his seat, bringing her hand—still wrapped in his—to lie on his thigh. He liked it there. “You might like to come with me. It starts with a field of grass surrounded by mountains.”

Her eyes turned to him, lingered a moment this time, a corner of her mouth twitching before she returned her scrutiny ahead.

“We’ll be there alone with a picnic basket. No one for hundreds of miles. The grass is peppered with bluebells and the sun is warm.” He tried to assess her reaction. How thick should he lay it on? “Surrounding the field is a rainforest and—”

Without turning, she interrupted, a reluctant smile on her face. “What planet has rainforest and a field of grass with bluebells growing beside each other?”

Okay. Perhaps he’d gone too far. But at least she was smiling. “I said it was an ideal holiday, Macy. Work with me.”

The tension in her shoulders relaxed a little. “Okay, keep going.”

“As I said, we’ll be alone and we’ll run through the field toward the clear lake. When we reach it we strip off to our bathing suits and dive in.”

“Do we check for crocodiles? Because if we’re in the north of Australia where a lot of the rainforest is, I think we should check for crocodiles first.” She faced him as she asked and the tension around her face had softened.

His chest swelled. It was working. He nudged a little closer and whispered, “There are no crocodiles in my lake. It’s safe and the water’s always warm.”

“Good.” Her hand released its death-grip on his to a more companionable clasp.

“We swim lazily until we’ve had enough.” This near, he could smell the scent of her skin, wanted to lean across that last space separating them and kiss her neck. Instead, he sucked in a deep breath. “Then we drag ourselves from the water and lie on towels on the grass, letting the sun dry our skin.”

The plane slowed for the final approach, engines straining and Macy jerked back into the tense position of earlier, her hand almost cutting off the blood supply in his.

“The setting looks good, but you look better in your bathing suit. It’s red.”

Ryder could see the battle in her body, between the fear and interest in his story. He decided to give his side an advantage over the enemy. Leaning that last inch, he whispered in her ear, “You roll over and run a hand down my bare back and I invite you onto my towel.”

He felt it, he was winning—there was a change in the energy her body emitted.

“Do I go?” she breathed.

“You do. And you lie so close I can’t think straight. All my mind registers is the feel of your body.”

The plane’s wheels hit the tarmac and the plane wobbled as it found its balance. Macy didn’t jerk away, instead seeming to lean into him.

“I wrap my arms around you, wanting you so badly—”

Macy turned to claim his mouth as the plane raced along the tarmac, her tongue plunging in to meet his and he matched her move for move. He clasped her face with both hands, having turned himself on as much as her with his story.

He pulled at the pins in her hair and let it tumble gloriously down around his hands. The silken feel raised his blood pressure another notch.

He tasted her lips, her mouth, not able to get enough. Both of them were jostled as the plane pulled up but he barely felt it. Barely noticed a thing other than Macy until the lights came back on and the door to the cockpit opened.

“Macy,” he said against her lips. “We need to leave.”

The fog of lust in her eyes gradually cleared and then she bit down on her swollen bottom lip.

“Thank you.” She said it quietly, but the heartfelt meaning in the two words couldn’t have been clearer.

“You’re welcome.” He stood and they both collected their carry-on luggage. He grabbed her hand and squeezed before they filed out of the plane and across the tarmac to their waiting limousine.

He knew she’d probably erect more barriers between them now he’d seen her vulnerable. But he’d be damned if he’d regret that kiss. It’d been incredible.

And he couldn’t stop thinking about how to make it happen again.

The driver Macy had engaged for their trip dropped them in front of the shopping plaza downtown, then took their bags to the hotel. A dark car sent by the security firm Ryder hired in Melbourne had met them at the airport and now pulled over to let two men out. They stood on the pavement, a few feet away. Macy’s shoulders tensed involuntarily, but she forced them to relax—far better to have the security there than not.

She edged closer to Ryder, amongst the people jostling and rushing, and pointed to the empty shop in front of them. “This is the one we’ve come to see.”

Ryder lifted his sunglasses to the top of his head and stepped forward. “Main street, ground floor, corner with double frontage. Looks ideal.”

The front was all glass, which would give great views of the chocolate products, though it had been covered in newspaper from the inside so they couldn’t see in.

A horn beeped in the traffic behind them, and Macy turned to the cars before Ryder’s voice brought her attention back to him. “Is the agent meeting us here?”

“I had the driver pick up the key before meeting us, so we can just go in on our own.” She withdrew the key from her briefcase and unlocked the door.

Ryder said a few words to the security then walked in behind her and shut the door. Abruptly, most of the sounds of the city cut off, as did the daylight. Crossing the room, she fumbled along the controls behind the counter until she found the light switches. She flicked them all on, drenching the room in bright neon lights.

She turned slowly, surveying a countertop that had been left by the previous tenant. It was an old wooden, carved bench. Unfortunately it would have to go—it didn’t match the image they were after. All their fittings would be sleek glass and chrome. She ran a hand along the corner of the countertop, feeling its solidity. Its beauty of shape. A smile curved her lips—when she was running her own company, she’d have furnishings like this.

Another car horn outside made her look up, and she realized Ryder was at the edge of the room, leaning against a wall, hands in pockets, watching her. Even from six feet away, she could see his eyes were dark. And feel his heat.

She frowned and laid her briefcase on the counter. Keeping the image of a professional career woman was paramount when she was around him. Not giving him more openings to sway her to his plans of marriage and buying her father’s company.

The kiss on the plane had been a mistake—she’d let her fear and vulnerability affect her actions. Though it had been incredibly sweet of Ryder to distract her with the story. She almost smiled at the memory, but stopped herself. He may have been sweet, but she couldn’t forget his real agenda. A business marriage.

She stepped out from behind the counter and straightened her spine. “This is the front-runner of the retail spaces we’ve investigated, primarily for the location but it also has the floor space we need, and good access for regular deliveries.”

Ryder pushed off the wall as if he’d never been staring at her and walked the floor, measuring by his stride. “It seems good. How’s the price relative to similar properties?”

“More expensive than the others I short-listed, but when the extra features are taken into account, it’s comparable.”

Ryder continued pacing the room, assessing features as he went. “What length lease are they offering?”

“When I spoke to the agent, she—”

The door opened and a flash went off to her right, interrupting her sentence. Ryder swore and strode to the door, slammed it shut and locked it. Then he moved to a side wall and pulled back a corner of newspaper to look out.

A cold shiver ran across her skin. “Is it them?”

Without looking back, Ryder nodded. “About six paparazzi. It seems our supposed romance is still big news. Must be a slow news day in Sydney.” He let out a disgusted snort then came to stand in front of her, hands on hips. “The security have moved them away from the door but they can’t remove them completely from a public street. As I see it, you have two options.”

“Go on.” Despite the nausea in her belly, Macy blinked slowly, shoring up her reserves.

“One, we walk out the door, past the cameras to the hotel. The security will shield you from the worst of it and their car will meet us at the curb.”

The room tilted. A vision of them pushing past the small throng, with repeated flashes going off, made her dizzy. She took a stiff breath. “I can do that. But I think I’ll prefer option two.”

“I ask the security to organize a diversion. We sit tight for half an hour to an hour, then we leave unnoticed.”

Her stomach clenched. Memories surfaced of being with her mother, surrounded by paparazzi. Of being stalked by them after her mother’s death, when she’d been hurting and confused and grieving.

Would he judge her for lacking fortitude? Would seeing her vulnerable twice in one day change the heat that had flared in his eyes a few moments ago? She knew he respected her professionally, and his opinion of her personally shouldn’t matter, but the thought of losing his respect sent a hollowness to her stomach. “It seems the coward’s way out.”

“No.” He dismissed her concern with a nonchalant shrug. “If they bother you, then why let them harass you when there’s another option? All it will take is one call. We don’t even have to open the door.” He flipped open his cell phone. “Your decision.”

She looked into Ryder’s eyes, seeking, but his face was relaxed, genuinely offering her a choice. “Make the call.” Relief surged through her veins as he dialed the number and made plans.

It shouldn’t matter so much that people she didn’t know would take her photo for other people she didn’t know to look at in the papers. But it did. She’d always hated being put on display, but since her mother’s death, the thought made her sick.

She heard Ryder ending his call and turned to see him pocketing his phone. “All done. Now we wait.”

She nodded, acknowledging his words, but still uncomfortable that she’d needed him to organize the distraction. But, uncomfortable or not, he’d earned her gratitude. Again.

She took a breath, waited a beat, then met his eyes. “It means a lot to me that you’ve done this. Thank you.”

He frowned. “If I wasn’t here, they wouldn’t be stalking you.”

True, but the paparazzi were the real culprits. “Even so, you’ve been very tolerant and accommodating of my anxieties today.”

He shrugged. “Everyone has fears.”

She couldn’t imagine Ryder Bramson fearing anything. He resembled an imposing warrior-leader from times past as much as the corporate giant he was.

Ryder’s gut twisted as he saw the look in Macy’s eye. He knew she was about to ask him about his own fears, and that was something he didn’t talk about with anyone.

He turned, casting an arm out to encompass the site. And neatly changed the subject. “You’ve done well to find this place. In fact, you’ve done well in every facet of the job. I’d like you to rethink your plan to leave at the end of the project.” To leave him.

She took the change in good grace, and her countenance changed to match. Smiling, she walked around the old counter and jumped up to perch on its edge.

She threw him a glance over her shoulder. “You know why I’m leaving. It has nothing to do with the job.”

He followed her around to the other side of the counter and leaned a hip against its edge. “You made the decision when you were upset—”

She opened her mouth but he held up a hand.

“—and rightly so. There were things I should have told you up front, and I regret that. But we’ve moved past it. We could have a good working relationship if you take on the Australian arm of this company.”

She smiled wryly, kicking her heels out straight ahead, her gaze focused on them. “You know, a month ago, I would have jumped at that offer. That job was everything I was working toward.”

There was something in what she said—no, in what she wasn’t saying—that drew him.

He folded his arms across his chest. “Why that job?”

She turned to smile up at him, eyes twinkling. “Shouldn’t you be extolling the advantages of the position? Talking it up?”

“I’m curious.” And he was. The drive to understand the mystery of Macy was stronger in this moment than any other concern. He could spend years asking her questions just to hear what she’d say. “There are hundreds of jobs that are suitable to your skills. Why is this one the one you wanted?”