Page 12 of How To Tempt The Off-Limits Billionaire

“I own a vineyard across the valley, it’s my weekend home.” Muzi shrugged. “I have a flat in the city but, after a hectic week working in the corporate world, I come here to unwind and find some peace. Franschhoek is my hometown, where I grew up, and my grandmother Mimi lives across the valley.” He grinned at her. “And my house has a shower, Dust Bunny. Quite a few of them, actually.”

“I really should get a hotel room,” Ro said, thinking that it was better to be sensible and put some distance between her and the tempting Triple M.

Muzi winced. “Yeah, that’s not going to happen. This weekend is a mini replica of their huge Bastille Day festival and while it won’t be as crazy as the big festival, the town is packed and I’m pretty sure you won’t find a room. Look, I have a huge house that’s sitting empty,” Muzi added. “At the very least, you can shower there and if you want to go back to Cape Town, I’ll drive you.”

Muzi lifted his water bottle to his mouth and drained the liquid. She watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down and noted the strength of his neck and his raised trapezius muscles. As she’d recently discovered, under his cream button-down shirt was a ladderlike stomach, defined pecs and acres of lovely, lovely skin. A part of Ro—the rebel in her—desperately wanted to go home with him and proceed directly to the nearest shower,together.

Wow, pull yourself together, O’Keefe!

She liked him, was ridiculously, stupendously attracted to him, but she’d met him just recently and she wasn’t the type to fall into bed with men she’d just met. Oh, she knew shecould, that woman did exactly that regularly—and more power to them—but Ro wasn’t that confident. Her body might be in the mood for some bed-based rock and roll, but mentally and emotionally, she wasn’t ready to sleep with him. Or anyone. She wasn’t in the right headspace to dive back into the dating pool again.

No, dating was out of the question because the word implied that she was looking for a relationship. She’d rather stab herself with a rusty fork. Relationships meant feelings, possibly even love, and she no longer understood what love was and whether it even existed.

Muzi surprised her by placing his big hand on her shoulder and gently squeezing.

“It’s an offer of a shower, Ro, nothing more or less,” Muzi told her, his expression understanding and a little tender. Or maybe that was her imagination working overtime.

Ro cursed the heat in her cheeks. “What about the...”

“Kiss we shared?” Muzi completed her sentence. “I’m attracted to you, that kiss should’ve clued you in, but you’re Digby’s sister.”

She looked at him blankly, not understanding the connection. “So?”

“So Digby would kill me.”

“I’m nearly thirty years old, and I fail to see what any of this has to do with him,” Ro replied, a tad tartly. Why was she even arguing with him?

“Radd and Digby adore you and they take their recently acquired role as big brothers very seriously. It doesn’t matter that I’ve known them for more than twenty years, if I mess with you, they will rip my head off.”

She thought he should take his chances with her brothers and mess with her. It would be worth it. Ro cocked her head to the side. She knew she was playing with fire but, ridiculously, she no longer had a problem with being burned. Not if it meant flying so close to the sun with Muzi. “Would you like to mess with me?”

Muzi touched her cheek with the back of his knuckles. “There is nothing I’d like more but I think it’s better to be sensible. One tends to have fewer regrets that way.”

Sensible was good. Sensible was clever...

Sensible was also deeply, completely boring.

Muzi nodded to his vehicle. “Let’s go get you clean, Dust Bunny.” His megawatt smile flashed and her heart bounced off her rib cage and did a couple of flip-flops. “And if you’re really lucky, I might even feed you tonight.”

Ro sighed. It wasn’t the type of lucky she was most interested in but she’d take it.

Unlike St. Urban, Muzi’s house, set in acres of lush vines, looked fresh and lovely and was, as far as Ro could see, dust-free. On reaching his front door, she kicked off her dirty sandals and stepped into the hall, the wooden floor cool beneath her feet. Muzi tossed his keys onto an antique-looking table, exquisitely constructed and horrendously expensive, and placed his hand on her lower back and led her into a large sitting room. The breathtaking lounge—gunpowder gray accent walls and couches in navy and paisley—sported exceptionally high ceilings and an old, massive fireplace. Fantastic, museum-quality art decorated his walls.

Then Ro noticed the bifold doors across the room, opening up to a one-eighty-degree view of the Franschhoek mountains. Ro stared at the view for a good minute, maybe more, before turning to look at Muzi.

“That’s one hell of a view, Triple M,” she stated.

He smiled at her use of Digby’s nickname. “It really is,” Muzi replied.

“Is this building old?” Ro asked, her hand on the strap of the tote bag hanging off her shoulder.

“It was originally a mission house but the building burned down in the late ’70s. Clos du Cadieux bought the property five years ago but the company didn’t want, or need, any of the buildings or the fifty acres to the north. So I bought the building and the land,” Muzi told her, gesturing for her to follow him. Ro crossed the room, passing the entrance to a gourmet kitchen featuring marble and top-of-the-range Italian appliances. Turning her head, she sighed at the wide, expansive outdoor entertainment area running the length of the house. A large pool, the same length of the deck, was on a tier below and bright blue water glistened in the midafternoon sun. Beyond the pool, she saw a glorious garden of white roses, swathes of lavender, mature indigenous trees and, of course, the stunning view of the mountains.

Muzi must have an excellent decorator, Ro mused as she followed him down a wide hallway, peeking into rooms where she could. The decor was high-end, unfussy but, in the simple lines and muted shades, there were elements designed to charm. Brightly colored cushions, bespoke art pieces and handpicked fabrics.

Muzi opened a door and stepped back to allow her to enter a room on the right. A queen-size bed, covered with white linen and a pale green blanket on the foot of the bed, dominated the room. The bed was tucked into the corner of the room, next to a half-open French door that led to a private patio and garden. A small couch and tiny desk graced the opposite side of the room. Ro realized that, whether one was lying in bed, or curled up in the corner of the couch, the view of the garden and mountains was never impeded.

And, dear Lord, was that a Paul Cadden sketch on the opposite wall? No way! She stepped forward, convinced it was a print, and her breath caught when she saw the tiny lines by the hyperrealist artist. She placed a hand on her heart... Muzi owned a Paul Cadden sketch, whowasthis guy?

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