Page 5 of How to Undo the Proud Billionaire

Okay, was she going to have to have to pull teeth to get him to explain? “Would you like to tell me why?”

Because, honestly, she had no idea what Africa’s sexiest billionaire could want with her. Unlike her sister, she was neither bold nor beautiful. She didn’t socialize in the same circles he did; hell, she didn’t socialize at all. She was everything he wasn’t: run-of-the-mill, down-to-earth, habitually penniless.

Brin saw something flash in his eyes, an emotion she didn’t recognize. Confusion? Surprise? If he hadn’t been Radd Tempest-Vane, with a reputation for being ruthless, cucumber-cool and hard as a rock, she might’ve thought he was feeling a little off-balance.

No, she was just projecting her feelings onto him. After all, being tracked down by a billionaire at the beach was something that happened in romance novels, not to ordinary girls living ordinary lives. From what she knew of him, and it wasn’t much, this Tempest-Vane brother was tough and determined, a prime example of an alpha male who didn’t suffer fools. He had a reputation for going after what he wanted and not stopping until he achieved his goal. He was shrewd, powerful and intimidating.

“My PA has spent most of the morning trying to find me a florist to do some arrangements at my ranch before a wedding party arrives midmorning Monday. He was not successful in his quest to find me a celebrity florist at short notice,” Radd said, his tone businesslike.

Brin wasn’t surprised. It was the end of spring, and the wet and dismal Cape weather had retreated, leaving warm days and cooler nights. It was a busy time for functions, parties and weddings.

“After being unsuccessful at reaching anyone, my assistant called his assistant for help, and shesuggested you.”

God bless Abby, Brin thought. “You need a floral designer?”

Radd gave her a try-to-keep-up look. Along with gorgeous and ripped, he was arrogant, too.

Fabulous.

But if he was offering work, she’d jump at his offer, any offer. All she needed was an idea of what the client wanted, the flowers—obviously—and supplies. She was good at what she did, she just needed a chance to prove it. And doing work for a Tempest-Vane brother, or for one of his companies, would be a bright, shiny gold star on her résumé.

And, as a bonus, her bank would stop sending her you-are-low-on-funds reminders.

“I can help you,” Brin told him, trying to not to sound too eager. “When do you need me to start, where must I be and how much are you going to pay me?”

“Now, at Kagiso Ranch and twenty-five thousand.”

Right. Well. Brin placed her hand on Betsy to stabilize herself.

Holy damn, Superman.

CHAPTER TWO

RADD’SFINGERTIPSDUGinto his biceps and it took every bit of determination he possessed to keep his tongue behind his teeth.

Because Brinley Riddell was drop-dead stunning.

Radd pulled in a deep breath, then another, trying to ignore his racing heart and the fact his pants were a size smaller across the crotch than they’d been ten minutes before. He looked around, desperately looking for an alternative explanation for his racing heart and why his nerve endings were on fire.

Maybe he was getting sick, but that wasn’t likely since he was super fit, took vitamins and was as healthy as a horse. No, it was because this woman had the power to drop him to his knees…and that was crazy. He was clearly losing his mind.

He liked women and women liked him back, but he’d never been the type to allow any female to rob him of his breath, or his ability to speak.

Brinley Riddell, damn her, had come closer than most.

Radd dropped his sunglasses over his eyes and, while she took in his job offer, allowed himself the immense pleasure of looking at her from behind his mirrored shades.

She was the embodiment of a rainbow-nation child, a variety of races and mixed genes. Her skin was a rich, luscious creamy light brown, her cheekbones were high and sharp, and her mouth was wide, sensuous and made to be kissed. Her hair was a tumble of long, loose, dark curls and, he’d bet his car, soft to the touch.

She was tall for a woman, five eight or five nine, but he still had five or six inches on her. Her tiny denim shorts showed off long and shapely legs, and the wind occasionally lifted her loose vest, allowing him glimpses of spectacular breasts under two orange-colored triangles. Her stomach was as flat as a board, but he’d caught a glimpse of her ass as he’d pulled into the parking area and it was, yeah, stunning.

She was possibly the most attractive woman he’d met in a long, long time. And if he hadn’t been in such a bind, he’d walk away right now. It didn’t happen often, but when he met a woman who could impact his life, he always, always left.

He liked sex, had it as often as he could—which hadn’t been too often lately, thanks to his workload—but he chose his partners carefully. They were always attractive, knew not to talk to the press and, most importantly, they accepted he wasn’t interested in anything more than a few hours of mutually shared pleasure.

And, crucially, they didn’t make him feel anything beyond the normal drive for sexual fulfillment. After being tainted, teased and tormented by the gossip generated by his parents crazy-ass lifestyle and escapades—up until their death he’d lived his life on a knife-edge waiting for the next story to break or shoe to fall, another scandal to slap him sideways—he’d decided, years ago, to not only live his life out of the limelight, but to do it solo. He could control his words, actions and choices, but not anyone else’s.

Also, critically, casual affairs allowed him to remain emotionally numb and, after spending the part of his life coping with his unstable and narcissistic parents and then dealing with Jack’s death, he and Numb were comfortable companions.

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