Propositioned by the Billionaire (6 page)

W
ELL, THAT HAD
been gruelling, thought Phoebe, pushing her sunglasses up her nose and taking her first lungfuls of Atlantic air. The flight to the capital had been smooth enough and Alex’s skill as a pilot during the short hop to their final destination had been impressive. But having to spend close on to four hours in a confined space with him had been a nightmare.

Once on board his jet, she’d hauled out her laptop with the intention of reading up on her notes, but to her intense irritation her usually excellent powers of concentration had gone on strike. Instead, her body had decided to tune itself to Alex’s frequency. Every move he made, every frown, every smile, that flitted across his face registered on her conscience.

But if she’d thought
that
had been torturous it was nothing compared to the torment she’d suffered once they’d transferred to the tin pot of a plane that was to carry them to the party venue.

There’d barely been room to breathe. Alex’s shoulder had constantly brushed against hers. His denim-clad thigh had sat inches from her hand and her fingers had itched to reach out and find out if it was as firm and
muscled as it looked. And then his voice, coming through her headset, deep and sexy, had reached right down inside her, wrapping itself around her insides and twisting them into knots as he pointed out a pod of whales.

Her body ached from the effort of trying to plaster herself against the side of the plane. Her stomach was still churning. The minute they’d landed she’d been so desperate to get out of the plane she’d nearly garrotted herself.

‘Welcome to Ilha das Palmeiras,’ Alex said, taking her suitcase and throwing it into the back of the Jeep that was parked at the side of the grass runway.

‘It’s beautiful.’

‘I think so.’

‘But humid.’ Phoebe could already feel her hair beginning to frizz and rummaged around in her handbag for a hair clip.

‘The islanders say if you don’t like the weather wait ten minutes.’

Phoebe pinned back her hair and then delved back into her bag for her mobile. Hauling it out, she flipped it open and switched it on. Hmm. She frowned. No signal.

Alex glanced up as she waved it around. ‘I wouldn’t bother. There’s no coverage.’

Oh. ‘None at all?’ She didn’t think she’d ever been anywhere where she hadn’t been able to pick up a signal.

‘Nope. And there’s no landline either.’

‘What about the Internet?’

‘I’m afraid not.’

There was no need for him to look quite so cheery, thought Phoebe darkly. Her phone was like a third limb. She needed to be available every minute of every day, just in case any nasty little surprises popped up.

But there wasn’t much she could do about it now.
With a sigh, Phoebe dropped her phone back into her bag and resigned herself to twenty-four hours of being incommunicado. At least weekends tended to be quiet on the PR front.

The island was smaller than she’d imagined, and far more remote. She’d envisaged a buzzing harbour, bright colours and exotic smells. All that had been true of the island that housed the capital, but Ilha das Palmeiras was quiet and peaceful. After a lifetime of living in London Phoebe had imagined she’d have been more freaked out by the absence of noise, but instead she could already feel herself beginning to unwind.

Palm trees swished in the breeze. The sun warmed her skin. The distant sound of waves crashing onto the shore filled her with a sense of wonderful restfulness.

Maybe after the party, when she’d smashed her target and proved she was more than capable of handling Jo’s career, she’d do a spot of sunbathing. Relaxing. God knew how long it had been since she’d had a day off.

‘Hop in.’

Phoebe’s eyes snapped open. Oh, she had to be careful. If she allowed herself to be lulled into a false sense of tranquillity, if she didn’t keep her wits firmly about her, she could find herself struggling to pass Alex’s test.

She grappled with the handle of the car door that was welded shut and it dawned on her that she would literally have to ‘hop in’. Which she’d never manage with any sort of elegance. Alex had vaulted in, but as she hadn’t been inside a gym for years if she tried that she’d land in a heap on the grass. Perhaps if she just perched her bottom on the edge and then levered herself up…

‘I would offer you a hand, but I can still recall what happened when I last tried that.’

‘Try it again,’ she said with uncharacteristic sweetness while batting her eyelashes at him in an exaggerated fashion, ‘and I can guarantee you’ll get a different response.’

Alex grinned, got out of the car and walked over to her side. ‘Turn round.’

Phoebe did and he reached down, put his hands on her waist and lifted her so that she could swing her legs round. He dropped her into the seat and Phoebe untangled her legs and arms. ‘Thank you,’ she said, determinedly ignoring the tingles zapping around her body and her galloping pulse. ‘And since you mention it, thank you for your help with Mark the other night.’ Hindsight had made her realise that she might not have been able to manage him on her own, and the fact that she’d never got round to thanking Alex had been niggling away at her ever since.

‘You’re welcome.’ He fired up the engine. ‘I probably owe you an apology.’

‘Oh?’

‘I might have overreacted. Just a bit.’

Phoebe sat back and grinned. ‘Accepted. It sounds like you’re out of practice.’

‘Could be,’ he said dryly. ‘I don’t often have reason to apologise.’

‘It must be wonderful being right all the time.’

‘Most of the time,’ he said with a grin and hit the accelerator.

‘So this island must be privately owned,’ said Phoebe, clinging onto the top of the windscreen in a futile effort to lessen the jarring on her poor battered body as they bounced over the terrain.

‘It is.’

She gave up and went with the motion. ‘Who by?’

‘Me.’

As she’d suspected. ‘Of course. What billionaire would be without one?’

‘If I’d wanted a status symbol I’d have bought a playground in the Caribbean.’

Hmm. ‘So what is this deserted peaceful island with no interference from the outside world? An escape?’

‘Perhaps.’

‘From what?’ she asked.

‘The city.’

She had the impression the island was an escape from more than just the city because she’d found no mention of it in her research. ‘How much time do you spend here?’

‘Not enough.’

That seemed a shame, she thought, drinking in the spectacular scenery spreading out before her. The shoreline jutted in and out, shaped by millennia of buffeting winds. After the carefully landscaped gardens of the night before last, the rugged beauty of the island took her breath away.

As did Alex’s profile. Phoebe took advantage of the fact that he was staring out of the windscreen to study him. Despite the concentration etched on his face, the lines around his mouth and eyes seemed to have softened, as if the serenity of the place had seeped into him too. The wind ruffled his hair and as she ran her gaze over the hint of the bump on his nose it struck her how much Alex suited this landscape.

‘When were you here last?’

‘About a year ago.’

‘Why so long?’

‘Busy. Work.’

‘What made you buy a remote island in the middle of the Atlantic?’

‘It’s a remote island in the middle of the Atlantic,’ he said dryly. ‘I like my space. I value my privacy.’

That figured. Given the press attention he received she guessed he wasn’t a great fan of journalists. Or nosy PRs, judging by the brevity of his answers to her questions. Still, she hadn’t got where she had by being deflected by evasiveness.

‘No man is an island,’ she said solemnly.

‘Are you romanticising me, Phoebe?’

Heaven forbid. ‘Just thought I’d mention it.’

‘It’s not completely isolated.’

He’d pointed out the other islands in the archipelago as they’d flown over them. ‘Who lives on the other ones?’

‘No idea.’

‘That’s not very neighbourly.’

‘Owners of remote islands don’t tend to be very neighbourly.’

‘What happens if you run out of sugar?’

‘My housekeeper makes sure I don’t.’

He had answers to everything, thought Phoebe as they headed off the rough land and onto a gravel track. He was wasted in venture capital. He should be in PR.

‘If you value your privacy so highly, why host a party for a hundred people?’

‘No press. Do you have to keep asking questions?’

‘Yup. Sorry. It’s my job.’

‘Perhaps you should be saving your energies for later.’

‘I have plenty of energy,’ she said with a grin, and realised with surprise that it was true. Despite her lack of sleep, Phoebe felt oddly invigorated. It was probably
the sea air. Or the thrill of a challenge. Or perhaps the exhilaration of the Jeep ride.

It had nothing whatsoever to do with having spent the best part of the day with Alex.

A shower of gravel flew up as Alex pulled up outside the house and yanked on the handbrake. The sooner he could get away from Phoebe, the better.

Her incessant questioning was driving him nuts. He didn’t want to have to go into detail about when and why he’d bought the island, but any longer and his resistance would crumble under the sheer weight of her persistence.

‘Oh, wow.’

Phoebe was standing up and gazing up at his house, an expression of awe on her face. At least she’d stopped with the bloody questions, he thought grimly, jumping out of the Jeep and striding round to her side. ‘Give me your hand.’

‘This is amazing,’ she said, holding her hands out but still staring up at the house. ‘Did you build it?’

Alex helped her out of the Jeep, set her on her feet and took their luggage out. ‘I designed it. Someone else built it.’

He glanced up. The two-storey glass and steel construction that stood on the edge on the cliff was very different from the glorified shack that had existed when Jo had been recuperating. He’d bought the island primarily for his sister and he’d worked every second to ensure he could do it before she came out of hospital. However it had taken him another couple of years before he’d recouped enough of his previous fortune to build this house.

Memories clamoured at the edges of his brain and Alex ruthlessly pushed them away.

‘It’s fabulous. The views must be incredible.’

‘Go inside and take a look around. You’re staying in the capital with the rest of the guests. They’re being ferried over and back. But there’s a guest wing here you can use in the meantime to get ready or whatever.’

Phoebe’s eyebrows shot up. ‘If I’m staying with everyone else, why didn’t you leave me there when we passed through earlier?’

Good question, he realised with a start. The thought hadn’t even occurred to him. But then that was hardly surprising; the moment they’d boarded his plane rational thought had pretty much given up the ghost and a clamouring awareness of the woman with him had taken over. It had left him feeling unusually on edge. ‘I thought you might like to check things out in preparation for later.’

She nodded and gave him a smile that made him think of sunshine. ‘I would, thanks.’

Alex had had serious doubts about holding a party here. Despite his determination to avoid a repeat of last year, when the event had been held in London and gatecrashed by an extremely creative journalist, the invasion of his privacy and general disruption to what had always been a haven of tranquillity hadn’t appealed in the slightest.

However, right now the hive of activity engulfing the house and gardens was as welcome as the unexpected appearance of a life raft in the wake of a shipwreck, and he had no qualms about clinging to it.

He’d go and see that all the arrangements for this evening were in order. Never mind that Maggie was so efficient he didn’t need to check anything; if he didn’t head off right now he’d be in danger of doing something rash like suggesting a personal guided tour of the bedrooms. He nodded curtly. ‘Then I’ll leave you to it.’

T
HIS WAS THE
life, Phoebe thought, rolling onto her stomach and feeling the sun hit the backs of her legs. With the gentle sound of the waves lapping at the shore, the breeze rippling through the palm trees, and the softness of the fine sand beneath her towel, she really was in her own little slice of heaven.

Alex’s abrupt departure had left her standing there feeling like a spare part and wondering if she’d said something wrong. But she’d pulled herself together, and, after asking around to see if anyone needed any help and being assured that everything was under control, she’d found her way to the guest wing, changed out of her jeans into a skirt and had headed for the relative calm of the beach.

The file with all the details of the guests and the research she’d done lay beneath her cheek. She’d committed pretty much every detail to memory and she’d honed the strategy she’d come up with the night before. If everything went according to plan, within a few hours her position would be safe and she could get back to her life.

In the meantime she intended to take full advantage
of the calm before the storm. She felt herself drifting off to sleep when the sun went behind a cloud. She shivered and reached for her cardigan.

‘Working hard?’

Phoebe jolted, manoeuvred herself into a less vulnerable sitting position and squinted up at him. ‘I wish you wouldn’t keep doing this.’

‘What?’ Alex said mildly.

‘Creeping up on me.’

‘Sand’s quiet like that.’

So was he, and looming over her like that he was also rather intimidating. The bright sun behind him cast his face in shadow and sunglasses covered his eyes.

He had changed too, ditching the jeans for a pair of khaki shorts. Phoebe couldn’t help running her gaze over his legs: tanned and as muscled as she’d imagined. A vision of them entwined with hers charged into her head and her mouth went dry.

This was ridiculous, she scolded herself, swallowing hard. It was just a pair of legs. Everybody had them. Nevertheless it took every drop of strength she possessed to drag her gaze up his body and reach his face. A tiny smile hovered at his mouth and Phoebe instantly realised that he knew she’d been checking him out.

If he mentioned it she’d attribute the pinking of her cheeks to the sun, she decided, pushing herself to her feet and brushing the sand off her skirt. ‘What’s up?’

‘Nothing’s up. I’m going for a sail. You’re in my way.’

Phoebe glanced round at the acres of sand that surrounded the spot where she’d been lying. ‘It’s a big beach. Is that yours?’ She pointed to the gleaming white yacht moored up against the jetty that stretched out from the beach into the sea.

‘It is.’

‘Pretty.’

‘I think so.’

‘What’s it called?’

‘
She
is called the
Phoenix Three.
’

‘Sounds like a pop group. What happened to the
Phoenix One
and
Two?
’

‘They sank.’

‘And each one rises from the ashes of the previous?’

‘Soggy ashes, but something like that.’

‘Can I come?’ While she’d learned every possible thing she could about his guests, she’d found out precious little about him. How could she do a proper job this evening without knowing as much as possible? Alex had so far proved remarkably adept at dodging her questions. Trapping him on a boat would be ideal.

‘Shouldn’t you be working?’

‘I’ve done as much as I can from my notes,’ she said. ‘The rest I’ll just have to pick up as I go along.’ She smiled winsomely. ‘I promise not to get in the way.’

Alex ran his fingers through his hair in a gesture of frustration. He clearly didn’t want her on board his yacht. Well, that was tough. She was coming along for the ride whether he liked it or not.

Phoebe glanced down at the cool box he was carrying and decided that she wasn’t above a little manipulation herself.

She stared at it longingly. ‘Is that lunch?’

‘A very late one, yes.’

She widened her eyes and gave him a doleful look. ‘You know, I haven’t eaten anything all day.’

Alex frowned. ‘Didn’t you have something up at the house?’

Phoebe bit on her lip and shook her head forlornly. ‘I’m ravenous.’ She waited and, when Alex didn’t look as if he had any intention of taking her hint, she swayed a little. ‘Do you realise that if I pass out this evening as a result of lack of sustenance it’ll be entirely your fault?’

‘How do you figure that?’

‘You didn’t give me time for breakfast, so if there’s enough in there for two…’

‘There’s plenty.’ He set the box on the ground and took the lid off. ‘Help yourself.’

Oh. Phoebe peered into the cool box and her mouth watered. Lunch looked and smelled delicious. But however tempting his suggestion was, nibbling on a chicken leg alone on the beach while Alex did whatever he did on boats had not been the plan at all.

‘I’d much rather join you,’ she said with a little pout.

Alex’s jaw tightened but he remained stonily silent.

‘Fine,’ she said sadly. ‘I understand. I just hope your hosting skills improve by tonight.’

Alex let out a resigned sigh. ‘OK. That’s enough. You can come.’

Phoebe beamed. ‘Great.’

Letting Phoebe on board his boat had been such a bad idea, Alex berated himself for the hundredth time.

He should have thrown her a sandwich and left her on the beach. Better still, he should never have disturbed her in the first place. He wasn’t sure why he had.

But even though he’d known perfectly well what she’d been up to with those big eyes and the pout it didn’t negate the fact that she was right. The catering staff had gone on a break for a couple of hours before gearing up for tonight. The cool box contained enough
lunch to feed an army and he was sick of feeling guilty. What else could he have done?

All he’d wanted was a moment’s solitude. To feel the wind in his hair, the tiller beneath his hands, and to fill with the sense of peace that sailing always gave him.

But had he found that solitude? That peace? Nope. Because Phoebe was anything but peaceful and he’d been an idiot to think he could get away with ignoring her.

She might not have hit him with a barrage of questions just yet, but her eyes had locked onto him with the focus of a heat-seeking missile the moment they’d cast off and in the past half an hour they hadn’t wavered. Even when he had his back to her he could feel her gaze boring into him. Watching him carefully, as if trying to penetrate right through to the centre of him and fathom him out.

His whole body itched and buzzed as if a swarm of bees had taken up residence inside him. The last thing he wanted or needed was fathoming out, he thought grimly, switching off the engine and releasing the main sail. It unfurled and fluttered in the breeze and Alex hauled and winched the ropes until his muscles burned.

For a while the yacht glided smoothly through water, and as Phoebe turned her face to the sun Alex stared at the horizon, let his thoughts lighten and he finally found an edgy sort of peace.

Until Phoebe’s stomach rumbled like a crash of thunder and the flicker of guilt he thought he’d managed to extinguish fanned back into life.

‘Uh, sorry about that,’ she muttered and rubbed her midriff.

‘Lunch?’

‘I thought you’d never ask.’

If he hadn’t had a conscience he wouldn’t have.
Because he had no doubt that as soon as they sat down to eat the questions would come. But he couldn’t postpone lunch any longer, so he’d answer them as briefly as possible and if she persisted he’d employ any tactic at his disposal to deflect her.

Ignoring an odd sense of impending doom, Alex steered the yacht towards the coast and dropped the anchor as soon as they reached shallow water.

‘How did you get to be so good at sailing?’ said Phoebe, finishing off the last piece of cold chicken and thinking lunch had never tasted so delicious.

Alex tensed and she wondered exactly why he was so reluctant to talk about himself. ‘I used to race.’

‘But not any more?’ She set the chicken bone on her plate and licked her fingers.

‘I gave up a few years ago.’ Alex’s gaze dipped to her mouth and her lips tingled as if he’d reached out and touched them. A blaze of heat shot through her and she snatched up a napkin.

‘Why?’ His strength and agility and obvious skill as he leapt around the yacht had had desire and admiration seeping through her in equal measures.

‘Better to stop at the top of your game,’ he said, his lazy tone completely at odds with the brief awareness that had flared in his eyes.

‘Did you ever win?’

‘Yes.’

‘Big boats or little boats?’

‘Both.’

‘Solo or in a team?’

‘Both.’

Agh. Trying to get information out of Alex was nigh
on impossible. His defences were so high she’d need crampons and breathing equipment to scale them. And as mountaineering had never appealed, Phoebe decided to switch tactic.

‘What made you go into venture capital?’

‘The bottom line,’ he said dryly.

‘Is that all?’

‘Isn’t that enough?’

‘Nope.’

Alex shrugged. ‘I’m good at it.’

‘Very good at it by all accounts.’

He shot her a quizzical glance. ‘Have you been checking me out?’

‘A little. Of course
I
didn’t have time to hire investigators.
I
simply looked you up on the Internet.’

‘What did you find?’

‘Surprisingly little for someone who has such a high profile.’ She’d found heaps of information about his business and his work, but absolutely nothing about his private life. Or Jo, for that matter.

He grinned. ‘I’m not that interesting.’

‘I don’t know about that.’ She might as well admit it. She didn’t need to know any of this for this evening. She wanted to know about him for herself. Which wasn’t all that surprising, she reasoned weakly. She’d always been interested in other people. OK, so she didn’t often burn with this degree of curiosity, but then most people weren’t so evasive. ‘You help people realise their dreams.’

Alex shook his head. ‘It’s all about maximising return.’

‘You helped Jo realise her dream. What return are you expecting from her?’

‘Jo’s family.’

‘What happened to your father?’

‘I never knew him. He died the year after I was born.’

‘And your stepfather?’

‘He married my mother when I was eight. Jo came along two years later. They died six years ago in an avalanche.’

Phoebe’s heart squeezed. Her own family might be tricky but she couldn’t imagine life without them. ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’

Alex shrugged. ‘Don’t be. They were cross-country skiing at the time and died doing something they loved. I hope you’re not going to ask me how I feel about it.’

‘I wouldn’t dream of it.’ He wouldn’t tell her even if she had. ‘How did Jo take it?’

The change in him was almost palpable. He tensed and his eyes went blank. ‘She was devastated,’ he said flatly.

Now what was he hiding? she wondered, watching the familiar stony expression set in. Every inch of him was warning her to back off, not to pry any further. Perhaps Jo wasn’t the only one who’d been devastated. Perhaps the deaths of his mother and stepfather had had a greater effect on him than he was willing to admit.

Phoebe took a sip of sparkling water and felt the bubbles fizz down her throat. ‘You used to have a partner, but now you work alone. Why is that?’

‘It’s safer.’

‘In what way?’

‘Other people have a tendency to let you down.’

She could understand that. Letting people down, especially her fabulous overachieving family, was one of the little insecurities that walloped her from time to time.

‘Has anyone ever let you down?’ she asked.

‘Not recently,’ he said bleakly.

‘What happened?’

‘It was so long ago I can barely remember.’

‘I don’t believe that for a second.’

‘Do you ever give up?’

‘Nope. I’m kind of tenacious like that. A PR magazine once described me as “subtly yet ruthlessly efficient”.’

‘I can see why. Although personally I’d call it nosy.’ The ghost of a smile hovered at his mouth as he sat back and regarded her thoughtfully.

Phoebe shrugged and grinned. ‘It’s a useful trait to have in my line of work.’ She tilted her head to one side. ‘You won’t put me off, you know.’ His answers were spare and his face gave absolutely nothing away, but she’d get there eventually.

‘I know.’

‘And I won’t fail this evening.’

‘Sure?’

Phoebe threw him a confident smile. ‘Absolutely. I’ve done my research and I’m fully prepared. And besides, I’m a Jackson and Jacksons never fail.’

‘Never?’

‘Never.’

‘That sounds like a lot of pressure.’

‘Tell me about it.’ She rested her chin on her hand and smiled up at him. Maybe if she opened up a bit he would too. ‘Actually, I did fail at something once. I swear the look on my father’s face was not something I’d ever like to see again. My mother merely shook her head in disappointment and went off to her study.’

Alex visibly relaxed. ‘What was it?’

‘My fifty metres underwater swimming badge. I was ten.’

His eyebrows shot up.

‘I’d had bronchitis. My lungs weren’t up to it. But that was no excuse.’

‘Of course not,’ he said dryly.

‘I used to have nightmares about it. I’d be swimming relentlessly up and down a pool with my lungs bursting. I’d pop up to the surface gasping for air, only there’d be a sea of angry faces staring down at me, yelling at me to get back under the water.’ That if she didn’t try harder she’d fail and she’d be letting them all down.

‘And then?’

‘Then I’d wake up drenched in sweat with my heart thundering and my head pounding.’

‘What did your parents have to say about that?’

‘Nothing.’ She shrugged. ‘They didn’t know. I didn’t tell them.’

Eventually she’d conquered it. All by herself. Those three months of nightmares had made her stronger. She was sure of it. As had those little blips in her otherwise flawless career.