Page 30 of How to Undo the Proud Billionaire

She was unlike anyone he’d ever met before, feminine and strong, yet curiously vulnerable and more than a little sweet.

He wasn’t normally attracted to sweet woman, to vulnerable innocents. He didn’t have the time and energy to dance around them, to watch his words, to reign in his forthright observations or to measure his words. Yet, despite her softness, he didn’t feel the need to censure himself around Brinley, she’d proved that she could handle him at his most irritable and demanding.

He admired her pride, the fact that she was not intimidated by his wealth, success or power. He enjoyed her sly sense of humor and was constantly surprised that she seemed to get him. She was unlike any woman he’d encountered before.

And last night he’d opened up to her, told her things about his past and family he’d never discussed with anyone but Digby. And he wasnotokay with that.

What the hell had he been thinking?

Nobody but the two brothers knew that Gil and Zia left all their worldly assets to a trust, that they’d sold photographs from Jack’s funeral to the press. And, because he’d been seduced by a sweet-smelling woman and a warm, star-filled night, there was always a chance that tomorrow, or the day after, or next week, or next month, these nuggets of information could land in the gossip columns, as another episode in the Tempest-Vane saga.

Radd felt the cold fringes of panic claw up his throat and his fingers curled around the railing, slowly turning white. He didn’t think Brin would go to the press, didn’t think she was the type, but he should not have taken the chance. What the hell had he been thinking?

Dammit. He should’ve got her to sign a nondisclosure agreement…

Yeah, fantastic plan, Tempest-Vane. She’d take that well. Not.

Radd tipped his head up to the sky, wishing he wasn’t so distrustful, so god-awful cynical. But his employing her, and his attraction to her, had happened so damn fast he was still trying to catch up.

The only thing he could do, what he would do, was to keep his mouth shut from this point onwards.

Radd rested his arms on the railing of the balcony and stared down at the water below him, uncomfortable with his mental ramblings, his deep dive into his psyche. He had to reign this emotion in, go back into his cool cocoon where little touched him. He was here, at Kagiso, to get Vincent Radebe to sign the final papers that would give them ownership of the mine and, when that was done, they’d launch the PR and rebranding campaign.

He had to stick to things he could control and Brinley Riddell, with her light eyes and soft curls, was not on that list.

He’d best remember that.

CHAPTER SEVEN

BRIN,SITTINGATthe dining table on the deck of Radd’s villa, her bare feet up on the railing and a coffee cup in her hand, turned at the sound of the door opening. Her heart picked up speed, as it always did when it was in the same room as Radd, and she whipped around to see him walking into the villa, tossing his hat onto the king-size bed.

Today he was dressed in the bottle green polo shirt all the game rangers wore, khaki shorts and boots, and he looked as wild and as tough as the land stretched below them.

Radd caught her eyes, smiled and her stomach joined her heart’s around-her-body race. “Morning.”

“Hi, how was your game drive? See anything interesting?”

Radd took the seat opposite her, leaned across the table and snagged a piece of her jam smeared croissant. He chewed, swallowed and took the coffee cup from her hand and drained the contents before handing her empty cup back.

She lifted her eyebrows at him.

“Relax, fresh coffee, croissants and fruit are on its way,” Radd told her, bending down to unlace his boots. “The drive through the park was awesome, you should’ve come with us.”

“There wasn’t space,” Brin reminded him. The wedding party filled every seat in the vehicle, and Naledi and her friends weren’t the type of people she’d get up before dawn to spend time with. She couldn’t complain though, Radd had taken her for a drive on both Monday and last night, Tuesday, leaving his game rangers to look after the guests.

“I like it when we’re on our own,” Brin quietly admitted.

“Me, too,” Radd softly replied.

Brin turned his head to look at him and her breath caught in her throat at the desire blazing in his eyes. His hair was ruffled, his jaw thick with stubble and as sexy as sin. Brin felt a tremble roll through her and she couldn’t help licking her lips, wishing his was covering hers, his tongue in her mouth, his hand pushing her thighs apart.

Oh, God, she wanted him, here in the sunlight at just past eight in the morning…

And, judging by his clenched fist resting on the table and the flush on his cheekbones, he wanted her, too. Brin looked from him to the daybed where Radd slept, hanging from chains in the corner of the veranda. It was big enough for an orgy—hammock, her ass—and she wondered if she was brave enough to say something, anything, to get him to join her on that wide surface.

Are you ready for that, Brin Riddell? Ready for a hot affair that would end the day after next, when they returned to Cape Town? She didn’t know, she wasn’t sure…

Brin pulled her eyes off him and searched for something to say to break the tension. “Did you see anything interesting?” she asked.

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