Page 12 of How to Undo the Proud Billionaire

“Low blood sugar, I think,” Brinley replied, as Skye piled seafood salad onto her plate.

Radd’s eyes sharpened. “Are you sure that’s all it was?”

Brin didn’t like lying, but what choice did she have? She was not giving up her dreams, not when she just needed a scant twenty-four hours to make them come true.

She shrugged as she placed a linen serviette across her lap. “It’s been an interesting day.”

“Just so you know, Ms. Riddell, I don’t like secrets or surprises. In fact, they are my least favorite thing in the world. So, if there’s something I should know, tell me now.”

Oh, wow, there was the ultra-tough, fantastically shrewd businessman. He was both sexy and a little scary, and Brin was thankful she’d never have to meet him in a boardroom. He’d chew her up and spit her out…

“I haven’t eaten all day and am probably a little dehydrated. I’ll be fine by the time we land,” Brin hedged.

Radd looked skeptical, but Brin just kept her eyes on him, hoping he’d change the subject. It took everything Brin had not to look away, knowing that if she did, he’d see it as a sign of weakness or, worse, for the lie it was. Their stalemate was broken by Skye clearing his throat and they both turned their attention back to him.

“We’ll be landing in forty minutes. Bon Appétit.”

“Leave your bags,” Radd told her. “The staff will take them up to the lodge.”

Brinley nodded and followed him to the jet’s exit. Even from a few steps away from the door, she could feel the air was different: warm but earthy, primal. As she stood at the top of the stairs and looked over the bush beyond the airstrip, she felt instantly connected to this old-as-time land.

Wide-open skies, fresh air, thick vegetation. It was wild and luscious and so different from the city life she was used to.

Brin noticed the open-top game viewing vehicles parked to the side of the airstrip, two rangers dressed in khaki shorts, dark green shirts and hiking boots next to them. Walking down the steps, Brin stopped, turned and looked back up to Radd, a few steps behind here.

“This is a ridiculous question but where, exactly, are we?”

Radd’s stern mouth tipped up at the corners. “We’re on the southern edge of the Kalahari Desert.”

When they reached the grass strip, Radd took her hand—making bubbles pop on her skin—and tugged her away from the plane, turning her around to look in the opposite direction. Purple-blue, craggy mountains cast shadows over the plains below.

Conscious of her very small hand in his, Brin found her head dipping sideways to rest on his shoulder. She felt him tense, heard his intake of breath and slammed her eyes shut, mortified by her lover-like response. Abruptly, she pulled her hand from his, defiantly folding her arms across her chest.

Note to self: touching Radd makes your brain turn to mush.

Radd started to speak and Brin forced herself to concentrate.

“We’re in what we call the green Kalahari,” Radd explained. “The reserve is home to Kalahari black-maned lions, black desert rhino, Hartmann’s mountain zebra, cheetah, gemsbok, roan antelope, the pangolin and many, many more animals. The guests, and the money they pay, fund our conservation efforts. The land and animals are our priority.”

Brinley heard the tiny crack in his voice suggesting emotion and saw the passion in his eyes. In this brief moment, Radd wasn’t the hard-ass billionaire businessman, but an ardent man advocating for something he believed in. Brin understood, at a fundamental level, how important Kagiso was to him.

Radd’s cologne mixed with the smell of foliage, dust and wild Africa, and the combination made Brin’s head swim. The fading rays of the sun touched his dark hair and turned his ink pot eyes to a shade of black. All Brin wanted to do was stand in this spot and taste Africa in his mouth and on his skin, feel his arms gathering her into his body.

Radd lifted his hand and he brushed his thumb over her bottom lip, then across her cheekbone. What was he doing? Where was this coming from? She thought she’d seen attraction and desire in his eyes but, because his expression remained implacable and because he was so out of her league, she wasn’t sure.

Was she his type? Could he, possibly, be as attracted to her as she was to him?

Radd lowered his head and Brin thought, hoped, he might kiss her, but a millisecond later, he jerked his head back and stepped away from her.

“We are not going there, Brinley.”

She took a quick, awkward step backward. Yes, of course, she knew that! Hadn’t she been telling herself exactly that? Brinley stared into the distance, annoyed with herself. Why was the concept of Radd Tempest-Vane being strictly, completely, Area 51-off-limits not sinking in? She was reasonably intelligent, it wasn’t a difficult concept to grasp.

Radd lightly touched her back and led her over to the first of the game viewing vehicles. One of the rangers immediately sprang into action, opening the front passenger door for her. When he put out a hand to help her into the vehicle, Radd spoke to him in an African language, his voice, as always, commanding.

The game ranger stepped back, replied and nodded.

“You speak… What language do they speak here?” Brin asked as she lifted her skirt to climb into the deep green vehicle. She placed her hand in his and allowed him to steady her as she stepped onto the running board. She settled in her seat as Radd walked around the vehicle and climbed into the driver’s seat.

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