Page 6 of How to Undo the Proud Billionaire

And, it was proven, relationships brought surprises, and surprises were something he could, without a doubt, live without.

Radd pulled his thoughts back to what was important. He needed to get Brinley to agree to fly to Kagiso with him this afternoon and to make—he’d checked—an arrangement for the lobby, two for the long dining table, one for the veranda and more than a dozen smaller arrangements, one for each of the guest’s beds and bathrooms.

“It’s a tall order, but the original florist committed to the time frame, so it’s doable.” Radd finished his explanation, searching Brinley’s face for a reaction. When she just stared at him, he rubbed the back of his neck again. “Is it doable?”

Brinley held up her hand, silently asking him to slow down. He’d give her a minute to catch up, but they were running out of time, dammit. They had to be at the airport in forty-five minutes, and it was, even in the Aston, a thirty-minute drive.

Knowing they were short on time, he’d arranged for Abigail to return to the home she shared with Brinley and pack her a bag, then drive to the airport to leave it with his air steward. If Brinley said yes, and he had no intention of letting her say no, they would leave for the airport immediately.

“Well?”

“Twenty-five grand?” Brinley whispered. “And I’ll be back in Cape Town tomorrow night?”

“I’ll go to thirty if you make up your mind in the next minute,” Radd stated, impatient.

Two dimples appeared as her mouth widened into a smile, and he felt like she’d slammed a battering ram into his solar plexus. God, that smile should be registered as a dangerous weapon.

“Deal,” Brinley said. “But I need to go home, shower and change, and pack a bag.”

“Your friend is packing a bag for you and she will deliver it to the airport. You can shower and change on my plane, but we’re leaving now,” Radd said, standing up straight. He had her agreement, excellent. Now all he had to do was keep his hands off her for twenty-four, twenty-five hours.

Surely, he could do that?

Brinley didn’t move from her position. “Wow, you certainly don’t waste time.”

“I know what I want and I know how to get it,” Radd replied, sounding edgy.Tough.

Brinley lifted a stubborn chin and patted her crappy car. “I’m not leaving Betsy here.”

He didn’t understand why people named their cars—it was stupidly sentimental and frankly ridiculous—but, strangely, the old-fashioned name seemed to suit. It did look like a down-and-out old lady.

“I suggest you use some of those dollars I am paying you to buy a new car. That car is held together by rust and a couple of bolts.”

“Don’t insult my car, and I am not leaving it here to be stolen. I’m taking it home or I’m not going with you,” Brinley stated, stubbornness in those light, unusual-but-exquisite silver green eyes.

Radd looked toward a black SUV parked a few spaces from them and jerked his head. The doors immediately opened and his long-time chauffeur, Marcel, stepped out of the SUV.

“If you give Marcel your keys, they will make sure your car—” he refused to call it Betsy “—makes it home.”

Radd thought there was a good chance that it would blow up or fall apart before it hit the motorway, but that wasn’t his problem. And if it did, he could easily replace it with something better and safer.

A car that wasn’t on its last legs. Or, he glanced down, on its last bald tire.

This woman had a death wish…and the thought made his heart cramp. Was he feeling concerned, a little protective and, if so, why? He’d met hermaybefifteen minutes ago.

She was nothisproblem, Radd reminded himself. She’d be out of his life by tomorrow afternoon, and he’d never think about her again.

Radd watched as Brinley reluctantly handed over her keys to Marcel, along with a long list of dos-and-don’ts. Frustrated, he stepped in and cut off her rambling explanation. “Marcel will figure it out. We need to go.”

Panic flashed across her face, but then she straightened her shoulders, reached for her beach bag and pulled it through the open window. Radd turned to open the passenger door to his car to reveal a state-of-the-art interior. He liked his car; it was fast, technologically advanced and the best money could buy.

Brinley sighed, placed her bag on the floor and lowered herself into the comfortable leather bucket seat.

Radd kept his eyes on hers and watched as shock, then disbelief, jumped in and out of those incredible eyes. “Wait!”

What now?“Problem?”

“Did I hear you right? That you are paying me in US dollars? That’s nearly four hundred thousand rand.”

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