Date with a Single Dad: Millionaire Dad's SOS / Proud Rancher, Precious Bundle / Millionaire Dad: Wife Needed. Элли Блейк
what part we play all of us are working towards the same goal.’
‘The succecss of your father’s business.’
‘No. For our family to be happy. The business success is a side effect. I certainly don’t dance to my father’s tune, if that’s what you mean.’
‘Is that what I said?’
She frowned deeply. ‘It’s what you intimated, isn’t it? To be fair, I did once. Then a time came when I became a right little tearaway. The things I got up to would make your eyes water. Then I grew up. Took charge of my life. And decided making love and not war was the only way forward.’
‘Who knew the life of a society princess was lived on the front line?’
Her frown faded away, but her eyes remained locked on his, a tad wider than normal, as though she couldn’t quite believe she was telling him all of this. ‘You can mock me all you like, but in offering a corner of myself to those who are interested, I am able to use my money, my influence and my time helping some of the less trendy, less telethon-appropriate organisations I believe need all the help they can get, which is extremely satisfying.’
‘I wasn’t mocking you. I—’
What? Envy you your infamously close family? Like hell he was going to tell her that.
Not knowing how to ask, he instead said, ‘Moving on.’
‘Excellent idea.’ She let out a deep breath and leant forward, just a touch, but enough that when her mouth curved into an all-new smile, a luscious, flirtatious, brain-numbing smile, he felt it like nothing else. If her life really was lived on a battleground, that mouth was as good a weapon as they came.
‘Am I off the hook?’ she asked.
He slowed his strokes, not quite ready to return to land. To real life. To the other side of the battle from her. ‘Just one last thing. Tell me how you got the chip in your tooth.’
She crossed her eyes as her tongue slid to the gap. His hands gripped the oars for dear life.
‘It’s so tiny. How did you even notice it?’
‘I happen to be an extremely perceptive man.’
Her eyes slid to his, warm, tempting, wondering just how perceptive he might be. Unfortunately he was perceptive enough.
As she slid her tongue back into her mouth her teeth scraped slowly over her lips and her nostrils flared as she let out a slow, shaky breath. He knew he wasn’t the only one feeling the impossible zing between them. He also knew she was wishing with all her might that he hadn’t noticed a thing.
She tilted her chin up a fraction before shaking her hair off her shoulders in a move meant to distract him from the fact that for the first time since he’d met her she was no longer looking him in the eye. ‘How else would a party girl chip a tooth but on a glass of champagne? On the upside, it was truly excellent champagne.’
He laughed softly as he was meant to do. Her eyes flickered to his and her smile was grateful.
After a few long, loaded moments, Meg asked, ‘I just … I’d like to know one thing too. Did Ruby tell you I was there?’
He shook his head. ‘Her nanny.’
She nodded, then looked down at her paint-chipped fingernails with an all-new smile on her face. A secret smile. An honest smile. One reserved for Ruby.
And from nowhere Zach felt something the likes of which he’d never felt in his entire life—the most profound kind of pride that a woman such as her thought so highly of his little girl.
Meg’s tongue kept straying to the itty-bitty chip in her tooth.
What had she been thinking, fessing up to all that guff in some great unstoppable stream of consciousness? Nobody wanted to see the workings behind the wizard. It ruined the fantasy. It seemed all she needed was a man who looked her in the eye and asked about the real her, and it was fantasy be damned.
Thank goodness she’d been rational enough to pull back when she had. There were some parts of her life not for public consumption.
If she wanted to continue volunteering at the ‘less trendy, less telethon-appropriate’ Valley Women’s Shelter she had to keep it underground too. Every woman needed her mystery, and every public figure needed their sanctuary, even if it meant she had to truss herself up in a blonde wig, red liptick, brown contacts, and tight second-hand acid-wash jeans circa 1985.
If she was to remain Brisbane’s favourite daughter she had to pretend the part of her life in which she’d attempted to leave the spotlight had never happened. She felt lucky much of her memory of that time was a blur of flashing lights—from the nightclub, the police car, the hospital.
As to the way she had finally taken control of her life? If she planned on going through life with a spring in her step and a smile on her face she knew it was best not to revisit the choices she’d made back then ever again.
It was done. It was for the best. Move on.
So Zach Jones—stubborn, pushy, scarily insightful Zach Jones; the guy who saw through her so easily that every time they met she had to chase him deeper into the darkest recesses of herself in order to drive him back out—could just take a step back.
Besides, her big mission had been to sort him out, not the other way around. He was the one with the rebellious daughter. He was the one who’d lost someone close. He was the one who needed help.
As she’d seen real social workers do, she started slowly, easing her way to the point so as not to scare him away.
‘So Ruby was home sick from school,’ she said. ‘Does that happen a lot?’
Zach’s cheek clenched and the look in his eyes made her wonder if he might not be deciding whether Operation Dispose of Meg might have to be put into action after all.
‘I ran away from home once when I was a little older than her,’ she pressed. Though she kept back the part where she got to the corner of the street, sat there for a good hour before she went home, only to find nobody had even noticed she was gone.
‘She told you she had a sore throat?’ he asked, taking baby steps her way.
‘She sure did.’
She bit her lip. Argh! Had she broken a confidence? No, she’d told Ruby she wouldn’t tell her dad she was home from school, and that had been taken out of her hands by the nanny. Phew. She’d make sure the kid knew it the next time …
Only then did it hit Meg there wouldn’t be a next time. She believed Zach wasn’t kidding when he said he’d hired security to case the perimeter of the resort, so he’d probably already commissioned twenty-foot-high fences around the house as well.
If she were in Zach’s shoes she’d keep his kid as far away from her as she possibly could.
Still, the thought of never seeing Ruby again made her heart give an all too familiar little twinge. But this wasn’t about her. Then again, maybe, just maybe, as a nice little side effect, if she helped Zach get Ruby on track then she could stop those darned heart twinges for good.
He watched her with those clever dark eyes that made her feel as if she were melting from the inside out and he rowed.
She merely sat there and waited.
It paid off.
He took a deep breath, narrowed his eyes, then with all the enthusiasm of a man with a knife pressed to his ribs to make him talk, he said, ‘She rang Felicia this morning, claiming a sore throat. Felicia called a cab to bring her home. When I heard my first thought was that it was a ruse. Then I wasn’t sure. Do you think …?’
He shook his head and pressed the oars deeper into the water.
It more than paid off. Had Zach Jones just asked her for advice? She was shocked it had come so easily. But