Page 42 of How to Undo the Proud Billionaire

Oh, God, no. No, no, no, no, no.

She’d done exactly what she promised herself she wouldn’t…

She was so close to falling in love with Radd Tempest-Vane. One more step, a quick slide and she would be there. Brin bit her lip, wondering if she was not confusing great sex with love, an amazing orgasm with affection. She wished she was, because if this was only sex, then walking away would be so much easier. But leaving Radd, carrying on with her life was going to be…well, hard. Different. A little flat and devoid of color.

But she couldn’t tell him her feelings, wouldn’t let him in on how she felt. Radd insisted on her making the first move to have sex, but Brin wanted him to be the first to breach the subject of feelings and love.

Because while she knew that she was there, or almost there, or something, she had no idea what Radd was thinking or feeling.

And, as she’d learned, people couldn’t be forced to give you what you needed, to love you the way you wanted them to….

In the distance, a hyena’s mocking laugh pierced the night.

CHAPTER NINE

SEXISN’TNORMALLYthat good, Radd thought as he pulled his vehicle to a stop at the stairs leading up to Kagiso’s main reception area. It was a biological function, they were hardwired as humans to want to procreate and to have fun while they did it.

It wasn’t supposed to make your soul jump, your heart settle and your stomach tie itself into a complicated knot.

Radd looked at Brin sitting in the passenger seat next to him. Although she was dressed simply, blue jeans and a white T-shirt, her face free of makeup, and her hair pulled back into a sexy tail, she could rival any supermodel. And he should know, since he’d dated a few…

He couldn’t wait to take her back to bed.

But sex, great sex, bed-rocking, moon-howling sex, was all they could ever have. He didn’t believe in love, commitment or happily-ever-afters; they were a myth, a fairy tale. He wasn’t interested in being anyone’s husband or significant other.

But if there ever was a woman who could change his mind, Brin would be that person. She was refreshing and without artifice, unimpressed with his wealth, success or looks. She looked past all of that and saw him, saw the man beneath the Tempest-Vane surface. When he was feeling mushy—vulnerablewas a word he refused to use—he could imagine laying all his fears, and dreams, at her feet, knowing that she wouldn’t trample on either.

But that was impossible; he wouldn’t see her again after he delivered her to her house tomorrow. He’d kiss her goodbye and walk away and return to the real world. In time, he’d start thinking of her as just another passing ship in the night.

But the thought of never seeing her again sent his stomach plunging to his toes, quickly followed by waves of anger and frustration. He shouldn’t be thinking like this, shouldn’t be allowing his thoughts to drift in that direction.

And God, he couldn’t help wondering if any of their deep conversations would be repeated, if what he shared would end up in the public domain. He didn’t think they would, but that familiar dread, so adept at twisting his innards in knots, settled down and made itself comfortable. He knew better than to let his mouth run, if he’d kept his thoughts to himself he wouldn’t have anything to worry about.

Damn Brin for burrowing under his skin, worming her way into his heart and wiggling into his soul. Brin, damn her, yanked feelings—good, bad and ugly—to the surface and made him not only confront them but also face who he was, to question what he was doing with his life.

As Radd pulled up to the lodge, his phone dinged with an incoming message. He picked the device up off the flat dashboard and swiped his finger across the screen. It was a message from Digby.

Heads up: Shanna was tanning topless on my balcony and some paparazzi scumbag caught some very mild action from me. I was, mostly, dressed. Photos published online today.

Radd read the message again, trying to make sense of the words. Shanna was Digby’s on-off girlfriend and an aspiring actress. And the balcony he was referring to had to be his suite at The Vane and was supposed to be access-controlled and exceptionally private.

Radd felt his blood pressure rise.

How the hell did that happen?

Not sure but suspect Shanna had something to do with setting it up.

Holy Christ.

Don’t overreact, for God sake, Radd. It’s not that big a deal and it comes with the territory. Oh, and Shanna and I are over, obviously.

He should bloody well hope so. Radd gripped the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger and tried to push the anger away. Radd fought his instinct to fly home, demand a retraction and thump the photographer. But his younger brother was thirty-five and fully capable of fighting his own battles.

They had a right to privacy and the lack thereof shouldn’t come “with the territory,” it certainly wouldn’t with his. This was a great reminder of why he shouldn’t make personal connections.

“Good morning, John. How are you?”

Radd looked up to see his concierge, who was about to open Brin’s passenger door.

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