Page 2 of Suddenly Pregnant

He shook his head. “And she knows me. What makes you think she won’t dig into my stuff to sell it to the press?” Like Ashton had done?

“She doesn’t know who you are. I chatted with her on the phone for her interview a couple of times, and once I small talked about international celebrities and the poor thing is clueless. A bit of a tomboy I take it from her social media account.”

Still didn’t matter. “All it takes is a search.”

“HR took care of her hiring paperwork and stuff… I asked them to use one of our sister company names so she knows she’ll be someone’s assistant, but not necessarily yours. And I used my married name.”

Despite what his sister thought, the last thing he needed was a brand-new person in his life. Sure, she might not be like his last assistant Ashton, that sell-out, slimy bastard that helped put his reputation in the gutter. Whoever this person was, she had her work cut out for her. “Fine. When is she arriving?”

“She’s coming tomorrow to Sydney. I booked you a flight tonight, so you can go and be there for her arrival. Make it more personal.”

“Of course you did,” he said sarcastically. Was he that much of a pain in the ass? Amy couldn’t get rid of him soon enough. Though, he gathered, it’d sound silly for her to travel to Sydney just to introduce him to this so-called new assistant. “Well… I guess we’ll both be surprised.”

Billie took a deep breath, clutching the side handle of her backpack with one hand, while rolling her large suitcase with the other. She watched the sea of people walking through the halls of Sydney Kingdom Smith Airport.

She saw families reunite, business people rush to their next connection flights, and tourists chat. Not her. She’d thought the window seat was a blessing, but that was before a couple sat next to her for an entire seventeen-hour flight, and worse—they slept. She’d only gotten up once to use the restroom, and now, as her limbs hurt from the lack of moving, she sighed.

A woman named Amy Lancaster was supposed to meet her.

She swallowed, feeling the tightness in her throat. She didn’t fly much, and this was her first international trip. She looked around, searching for a woman carrying a sign with her name. Or red balloons. That would have been creepy as hell, like a scene from a scary movie, but at least the woman would have a leg up against the several drivers picking up their clients.

“Billie Jones?” said a male voice behind her.

She turned to see who talked to her, and the moment her gaze landed on the tall, broad-shouldered figure, an electric humming sensation traveled through her, awakening all the parts of her that the godawful long flight had destroyed. “Yes,” she said, her voice higher than usual, and a tad nervous. Though how could she not be startled?

He was a large presence with streaks of dirty blond hair. Even though he wore a casual white shirt and denim jeans, she couldn’t deny nothing about this man was ordinary. Tattoos swirled on both his arms, and when her eyes found his, her stomach curled.

Dark cobalt rings surrounded a brighter shade of blue irises. Damn it, his eyes needed a hazard sign. They could lead a woman into oblivion.

“Come with me,” he said, then cocked his head in the direction of the exit. “I’m here to pick you up.”

“Pick me up? Who are you? I was expecting someone else,” she said, not moving an inch. A couple of passengers excused themselves as they nudged her out of the way, one of their suitcases brushing against her leg.

The man touched her elbow and coaxed her to the side. “Yes, I know. Amy told me to pick you up. She’s sorry she couldn’t make it.”

“What’s Amy’s last name?” she asked, lifting her chin. Sure, this man was hot as hell, but she’d watched too many trashy Blumhouse horror movies to hop in the car with the first stranger who offered her a ride. She’d promised her cousins she’d return to the US with all her organs intact, and she fully intended to fulfill that promise.

“Amy is my sister,” he said, a pang of annoyance in his voice. In his very sexy voice, she noticed the twang of Aussie accent she heard so much about. Chris Hemsworth had nothing on this guy.

“Then you should know her last name, right?”

“Amy Harvey.”

She crossed her arms. “No.”

“Oh. I forgot. She gave you her married name. Amy Lancaster.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. How convenient that he got the second attempt at Amy’s surname correctly. Besides, if she worked for the Lancaster Enterprise, wouldn’t Amy send someone from the company and not a brother? “I need to call her,” she said, dropping her heavy backpack on the floor then leaning down and fumbling for her phone on the outer pocket. “Just to make sure.”

The man sighed, unable to contain his impatience. “Why would a random person just come here and pick you up from the airport?”

“I take it you’ve never watched Taken. Or Hostel. Or—”

He paused for a moment, his gaze traveling around them as if he registered her words, then his face softened a bit. A hint of a smile in his face—and God, did it only make him even more attractive. “I’m not kidnapping you. My sister hired you to work for me—she used her husband’s company name, which is also a sister company, in the paperwork process to keep me anonymous.”

Work. For. Him.

Whatever moisture was left evaporated from her throat. Hell, even her lips were parched. She stared at him, wondering if she’d been less scared if he had been a possible human trafficker. Working for this man was bad news.

---