Page 10 of How To Tempt The Off-Limits Billionaire

Ro released a surprised squeal and Muzi turned to look at her, expecting to see her dismayed expression. But Ro’s eyes were soft with wonder, her generous mouth curved into a wide smile. He felt the power of her smile down to his toes and it took everything he had not to cover her mouth with his.

Damn, keeping his hands off his best friend’s sister was going to be a hell of a task.

“I’m seeing a house falling apart so I’m not sure why you are smiling, Ro,” he said, bringing the car to a smooth stop.

Ro pointed at the jagged-tooth mountain that loomed up behind the house, sunlight highlighting its many cracks and crevasses. Beyond the mountain, the sky was iris blue, a particularly African, intense shade of blue. It was a beautiful mountain, Muzi admitted, thinking that he was either super jaded, spoiled or ridiculously single-minded if he didn’t notice the breathtaking scenery.

Possibly a combination of all three.

“I have to say, its setting is near perfect,” Muzi said, resting his forearms on the steering wheel and peering up through the windshield. Two martial eagles were riding the thermal winds high above him and he wished he had a pair of binoculars to get a better look at the majestic birds.

“That’s my house?”

Muzi turned his head to look at her profile, taking in her open mouth and wide eyes. Following her gaze, he winced at the once grand, now obviously neglected, house.

It wasn’t an exaggeration to say that the house looked a little dismal. The whitewashed walls were gray and dingy, the thatch looked like it needed to be replaced two decades ago, and the once green shutters on the windows were warped and, in one case, falling off.

“Um...well, that looks nothing like the picture the lawyers showed me,” Ro said, her voice faint.

Muzi tipped his head to the side. The house looked like a grand old lady who’d fallen on hard times. He looked at Ro. “Do you still want to go in?”

“I suppose I should,” she replied, her expression dubious.

Muzi nodded, left his SUV and walked around the hood to open her door. He held out his hand to help her out and electricity crackled between them. His eyes met hers and he saw the sexual interest in her gaze, the heat of desire turning her cheeks pink. Man, it didn’t help to know that she was as into him as he was her. God, how the hell was he going to resist her? And he had to. They had business to conduct and Digby would rip his head off if he treated her as he did all his one-night stands and brief flings—with kindness and respect but absolutely no promises, suggestions or hints for the possibility of more.

He didn’t need a special person in his life, he was stronger on his own. Because, as he’d learned, if you kept people at a distance they couldn’t hurt you.

Muzi dropped Ro’s hand abruptly and ignored her look of surprise. Sliding his sunglasses onto the top of his head, he gestured for her to precede him to the front door. The huge door, once the same dark green shade of the windows, looked bent and buckled. Muzi suspected he’d need to use his shoulder to budge it from its frame.

Ten minutes later, after much swearing, his shoulder aching from repeated contact with the old door, they stood in the dank, dark hallway, dust tickling his nose. He looked around, taking in the grimy walls. His big feet hit a carpet and dust flew up his nose, causing him to sneeze. Drop cloths covered various pieces of furniture and Muzi doubted this room had seen fresh air for the best part of forty years.

Whatever plans Ro had for the mansion, she was going to need a hell of a lot of help.

CHAPTER THREE

RIGHT...WELL,THISwasn’t good.

Ro watched Muzi flick up an old light switch and nothing happened. There was a small chance that the light bulb was blown but it was more likely that the house had no electricity.

Completely fabulous. Using the flashlight on her phone to guide her through the shadows, Ro walked toward an open door leading off the hallway and into what she presumed had once been a smart reception room. The wooden floor was covered with dust and big furniture sat under falling-apart drop cloths. Pictures hung on the wall, covered in a thick layer of dust and grime, so much so that she was unable to make out the subjects of the paintings.

Ro slapped her hands on her hips and did a slow circle, her heart in her throat. It was becoming obvious she wouldn’t be staying here tonight and, even if she had water and electricity, sleeping in a bed covered in forty years’ worth of dust didn’t appeal.

She should just sell the place to Muzi and be done with it. It was the simplest, most efficient solution. He could deal with the dilapidated house and the overgrown vineyards. And if he found his elusive cultivar, good for him.

Hearing Muzi behind her, she turned and sent him a tremulous smile. “This isn’t what I expected,” she said.

Muzi folded his big arms across his chest. “It’s a dump,” he bluntly told her. He gingerly picked up one corner of a filthy cloth and lifted it to show her the corner of the ten-foot-long credenza pushed up against the far wall. He whistled. “But this, I think, is yellow wood and very old. I suspect that there might be a lot of valuable antique furniture in this place.”

Ro walked over to the tall windows and lifted her hand to pull back the faded red velvet curtains. She hesitated. They looked like they might fall apart if she so much as breathed in their direction. But they needed light to see what they were doing, so she took a deep breath, pulled the curtain to the side and found herself smothered by a dust saturated pile of ancient fabric. She screamed and tried to push the fabric away and found herself more tightly entangled in musty velvet.

Sucking in a mouthful of dust, she coughed, desperate for fresh air. What she got was another hit of dirt and she coughed again.

Pinpricks of light danced behind her eyes. She was on the point of passing out when Muzi whipped the fabric off her and she could breathe again.

Ro sucked in a couple of gulps of fresh air and, keeping her hands on her knees, looked up at Muzi. “Thanks.”

“Are you okay?” he asked.

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