Page 19 of How to Undo the Proud Billionaire

Brin looked at him, askance before realizing he was teasing. “Okay, okay.” She lifted her hands and took a step back.

Brin wrinkled her pretty nose. “I need coffee. And a shower.” She sent him an uncertain look. “If you’re happy with what I’ve done, you can tell your pilot to come and collect me.”

That would be the best option. She could be gone by noon, and he could spend the rest of the day alone in his favorite place, something he never got to experience anymore. He could simply soak in the essence of Africa and recharge his soul.

That’s what he should do, but Radd didn’t reach for his phone. Instead, he opted to buy a little time. “Coffee is in the dining room.”

Brin followed him to the door, sending him a shy smile when he stood aside to let her walk through the door before him. She seemed surprised by his manners and a little grateful. It was a nice change from the women who either didn’t notice or chided him for being gentlemanly, saying that women were perfectly able to open doors for themselves. Of course they were, what the hell did that have anything to do with showing a little bit of courtesy?

Women, would he ever understand them?

Then again, because he was resolved to live his life solo, he would never need to.

Brin looked back into the room, and he gripped her elbow before she could walk back and fiddle with her flowers. “They are fine, Brinley.”

Brin looked startled. “How did you know what I was thinking?”

“You have the most expressive eyes in the world,” Radd replied, his tone terse. “Come on. Coffee—we could both do with a cup.”

Or an intravenous injection containing pure caffeine. And a reality check.

CHAPTER FIVE

BRIN,SITTINGINthe passenger seat of a short-wheelbase Land Rover, held her hair back off her face and turned in her seat to look at Radd. Dressed in a red T-shirt, the hem of its sleeves tight around his biceps; old, faded jeans; battered boots; and a Kagiso Lodge cap on his head, he looked the antithesis to the urbane, ruthless businessman with the fearsome reputation she’d met in Cape Town. Light stubble covered his jaw and his broad hands held the steering wheel with complete ease as he whipped the Land Rover down a side road, driving them deeper into the game reserve.

It was obvious that he knew where he was going and how to get there. With each mile they traveled, she sensed his tension ebbing. He loved it here, Brin realized. He’d never admit it, but she sensed this was his happy place.

She didn’t have a happy place, not yet. Maybe her shop, if and when she finally opened it, would become the one place where she was totally at ease, utterly in control.

Brin leaned back in her seat, enjoying the early morning sun on her face. She was exhausted, but thrilled with her work last night. On entering the conference room, she’d just wanted to inspect the flowers, map out a plan of action for this morning and see what she was up against. But then she’d picked up a bunch of blue orchids and she’d felt compelled to make a start. One bouquet led to another and soon she was losing time, lost in the moment, immersed in her creativity. Not much could make her forget who and where she was but her craft did…

As did Radd.

When he’d kissed her last night, she’d forgotten why she was at Kagiso, that they were in an open-top vehicle in the middle of the African bush, that she and Radd inhabited completely different worlds. In his arms, she didn’t feel like Kerry’s little sister, someone who was broke, insecure and still trying to find herself.

In Radd’s arms, she felt like the best version of herself.

Brin sighed and rubbed her moist hands on her jeans. He shouldn’t be taking up this much mental space. In a couple of hours she would be back in Cape Town and, in two or three more, back in her cottage in Bo Kaap. By tomorrow, or Tuesday, depending on how quickly Radd’s funds moved through the banking channels, her money would be in her possession, and she would be free.

Free of the worry of having to go back to Johannesburg with her tail between her legs. Free of the fear of returning to her job as Kerry’s assistant—the woman had gone through three already in six months. Free of worrying that she’d eventually fade away, that she’d always be remembered, if she was remembered at all, as being Kerry Riddell’s half sister.

But when she returned later, it would be to a Cape Town they both lived in, but where they would no longer connect.

And that was the way it should be.

Because, realistically, there was no chance of her and Radd interacting in an ongoing and meaningful way. Aside from the fact that he was a billionaire and she was broke—okay, she wouldn’t be broke for long—they were very different people. He was completely assured and very at ease with himself and his place in the world.

The fact that he constantly dated different woman told her he was commitment-phobic, so she’d never be anything more than a few nights of fun.

But, more than that, Radd was the type of guy she should avoid. He was strong-willed and assertive, a man of very definite opinions. He was also domineering and hard-assed, and she was pretty sure he was the “my-way-or-the-highway” type.

She’d spent the last ten years under the thumb of two very dominating and demanding women, and she wasn’t willing to put herself into a situation where she lost her voice, lost herself, again. She was just starting to bloom, slowly understanding who she was and what she stood for. Hooking up with Radd—tough, demanding and dictatorial—would erode all her progress. No, finding herself, restoring her self-belief and confidence, was more important than dropping into a torrid affair with a man who’d discard her when he tired of her.

And he would because, according to the tabloid press, he tired of everyone. When it came to woman, Radd had the attention span of a fruit fly.

So no falling in lust with Radd Tempest-Vane, Riddell.It would be a bad, bad, terrible move.

Falling in love would be the height of stupidity, and she refused to be that girl, the one who “couldn’t help herself.”

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