Australia's Maverick Millionaire. Margaret Way

illuminated tropical gardens. “Your world has been safe. My world was damned scary—sinister might be a better word.”

      She studied the handsome profile presented to her. He was almost painfully handsome. “You would never dream of sharing your experiences with someone who wanted only to help you?” she asked gently, though she knew it might be folly.

      “Are we talking professional help here, Clio?” He swung his gleaming gold head back to her, gazing down his perfectly straight nose. “I had all that. One shrink called me a master manipulator. I think I was about ten at the time. Anyway, let’s get off me,” he said edgily.

      “You don’t want me to get to know you, Josh?” she dared ask. Was he any different from the boy who had ordered her so harshly to go away?

      “Clio, there are things about me I don’t wish you to hear. All right?”

      Of a sudden she realized that for Josh that might qualify as an appeal. She held up her hands in surrender. “I get the message. Let’s get back to me and my world. Dad is desperately unhappy. He should never have married Keeley. They have nothing in common. Not that any woman wouldn’t have had a battle as the second Mrs Templeton. So you tell me, Josh. Should I turn my back on my family when they need me and go forge another life for myself maybe thousands of miles away, like Sydney or Melbourne? I have my great-aunts and many contacts there.”

      “So you’re stuck for the time being,” he conceded. Leo and her father weren’t the only ones who couldn’t bear to lose sight and sound of her. “Why doesn’t your father divorce Keeley? He must know she only married him for his money.”

      “Dad doesn’t believe in divorce.” She felt racked by pity.

      “He thinks it’s better to live with a woman who doesn’t love him?” Josh asked, never in any danger of being attracted to the over-sexed Keeley with the practised throaty laugh. “That’s a character flaw he can live with?”

      “Apparently,” Clio admitted with an effort. “I know I’m risking making you angry again, Josh, but …”

      Such a glitter came into his eyes. “Then don’t risk it, Clio,” he said.

      “So you’re going to saddle me with the worry. You don’t want me to say it.”

      “Are you actually making judgements about my moral responses?”

      “No, no I’m just thinking about consequences.”

      “So you’ve appointed yourself watchdog?”

      He looked incredibly superior. Unyielding. No vulnerability there. “I suppose I should apologize.”

      “You should,” he said tautly. “Come down off your pedestal, Clio. I wouldn’t take up with your stepmother if she were the last woman on earth.”

      She felt a wash of remorse. “Only Keeley has taken it into her head there’s some attraction there.”

      “Really?” His handsome mouth twisted. His blue eyes blazed.

      She knew she was flirting with danger. He was giving fair warning. Anger was coming off his lean powerful body in waves. “I’m sorry, Josh. I don’t want to have words with you. I must go.” She made to turn away to go back into the house, only to her stupendous shock he spun her around, pulling her to him in one supremely smooth, controlling gesture.

      “Josh!” Totally thrown off her guard, Clio felt a great coursing of blood through her body. Every sense reeled.

      His mouth so swiftly and completely took hers it burned up every ounce of resistance. She was flooded with excitement, robbed of all breath, all strength, willpower. Her mouth had a life of its own. It was responding to such a voluptuous invasion as if she had no other choice. Her surrender was total. Truth was, he had captured her to the core of her being.

      She was gasping when he released her, losing an astonishing sense of the security and rightness she had felt with her body pressed against his. Was it possible she had chosen Joshua Hart above all others all those years ago?

      “Maybe that will take care of Keeley for you and the rest of your guests,” he bit out, furious with himself for losing it. Only Clio Templeton could have robbed him of his armour. Only Clio had the woman magic to lead him on. That humbling piece of knowledge stuck in his throat. He didn’t want a woman to possess him, to turn him into some sort of a slave. He hated losing the cool order he had imposed on himself and his life.

      As physically strong as he was, his heart was fluttering in his chest and there was a roaring in his ears. He stood there, aware they had created a rivetting spectacle. It would have taken everyone by surprise, indeed shock. Some of the guests were standing stunned yet Clio, with her beautiful head held high, walked back very calmly into the grand living room and didn’t look back.

      CHAPTER TWO

      IT WAS close on a fortnight later before Josh called in on his mentor. Gossip in the town had been rife after the incident with Clio at the gala function. People talked endlessly and breathlessly at dinner parties, in the streets, over back fences. One kiss, it seemed, had created a sensation. All allowances had been made for Clio. He was the one who had overstepped the mark. Big time. Certainly he had acted under compulsion and paid for it. He couldn’t get that kiss out of his mind. The best strategy seemed to him to stay away from the house.

      Meg Palmer, the housekeeper, greeted him at the door. “Josh!” She embraced him briefly, then let him go. Never pushed it. It saddened her greatly to know Josh Hart as a boy had had little contact with warmth and affection and the gentling effect of a woman’s touch. Meg was a short, sturdy woman of robust good health, with twinkling hazel eyes and a shock of soft iron-grey curls.

      “How’s business?” She looked him up and down with pleasure. She well remembered how desperately unhappy and out of control Josh had been as a boy. But hadn’t he grown! These days he was a man of achievements. Meg felt as proud of Josh as his mentor, Leo, did.

      “I do the best I can, Meg.” Josh bestowed on her one of his beautiful white smiles. He rarely smiled, which was a pity, but he had a dry sense of humour. “How’s Leo today?” No rhetorical question. He was waiting on the answer.

      “Really looking forward to your visit,” she assured him. “He’s in the study, waiting. Feel like a cup of coffee?”

      “You’ve baked your chocolate brownies?”

      “I have indeed.” She caught him by the arm. “You and Miss Clio made up yet?”

      He responded with wry humour, not the cold anger most people would have elicited. “Meg you know damned well Clio and I aren’t at any place where we make up.”

      “I know nothing of the kind.” Meg searched his eyes. “You’re as good as anyone. Better!”

      “Ah, Meg,” he groaned. “Not everyone is like you.”

      “Too true!” Meg laughed to lighten things up. “Trust me, Josh,” she added very gently as he moved off to the study. Meg had heard all the gossip about that sizzling kiss but she had the good sense not to mention it.

      Josh gave her a backward wave, but didn’t answer. At sixty, Meg still believed in fairy-tales.

      Approaching his seventh-fifth year, up until fairly recent times Leo Templeton could easily have passed for a man ten years younger. Now there were visible signs of ageing, worsening osteoporosis and general ill health. It hurt Josh to bear witness to Leo’s decline. Leo may have slowed down physically, but nothing was going to slow his brain. Leo turned from looking out through the open French doors that led onto the rose garden to greet his protégée.

      “Josh, my boy!”

      “Please don’t get up.” Josh moved towards the regal silver-haired man. He put his hands on the back of Leo’s big swivel armchair, pushing it back in front of his desk. Obviously Leo hadn’t