Brides For Billionaires. LYNNE GRAHAM

a fleecy towel round her dripping figure.

      ‘I thought you had work to do—’

      ‘On your last day?’ A black brow slashed up.

      Her heart thudded as though he had pulled a knife on her, dismay reverberating through her slender body. She had actually thought he might not be aware that the month and the agreed amount of time was up. What a fool she had been! Clearly he had an internal calendar every bit as accurate as her own and it was a timely reminder that she had something she really did need to discuss with him before they parted.

      ‘Could we be ordinary people for a change?’ she heard herself ask, thinking that it would be easier to talk to him away from the yacht as he was highly unlikely to stage a row with her in a public place.

      ‘Ordinary?’ he queried blankly.

      ‘Walk down a street without an escort that attracts attention, window-shop, go for coffee some place that isn’t fancy …’ she extended uncertainly. ‘Simple things.’

      Dark as night eyes widening in surprise at the request, Mikhail shrugged a broad shoulder. ‘I’m sure I can manage that.’

      The tender dropped them at the boarded promenade walk that skirted the coastline of the resort. Stas and his companions followed them but kept their distance. Casually clad in shorts and an open-necked shirt, Mikhail urged her into the town and, closing a hand over hers, he walked her down the main street. She checked out shop windows and went into a gift shop where she insisted on paying for a small glass owl that she knew Topsy would happily add to her collection.

      ‘I’ve decided I don’t like independent women,’ Mikhail imparted, watching her study a display of sparkling dress rings in a jeweller’s window. ‘There’s nothing here worthy of your interest … At those prices it’s all fake.’

      ‘I’m not a snob—’

      ‘I am,’ Mikhail interposed without hesitation. ‘Which one do you like?’

      ‘The green one,’ she confided, surprised he had asked.

      ‘I couldn’t bear to look at that on your finger,’ Mikhail derided and he tugged her on down the busy street at a smart pace. ‘Where are we going for coffee?’

      Kat picked a quiet outdoor café set above the beach with comfortable seats and a beautiful view of the sea. A resigned look on his strong face, Mikhail folded his big powerful frame down into a chair that creaked alarmingly. ‘So what’s so exciting about coming here?’ he enquired, keen for her to spell out the source of the attraction.

      ‘That’s the point. It’s not exciting or fancy, it’s just plain and peaceful,’ she told him lightly, knowing she had a thorny subject to broach before she departed and wanting to get that little discussion over and done with somewhere where Mikhail was unlikely to lose his cool.

      Kat was so far removed from his usual style of lover that his fascination with her was understandable, Mikhail conceded impatiently, striving tolerantly not to frown with disapproval as she sipped at yet another sickeningly sweet chocolate drink, which could only be bad for her health. Didn’t she care about her well-being? Or the fact that she was currently as poor as a church mouse? Any other woman he had slept with would, at the very least, have thought nothing of marching him out to some designer retail outlet so that he could reward her generously for her time with the goodbye gift of a new wardrobe …

      So, it had finally come: the moment to say goodbye. He would miss Kat, he acknowledged reluctantly, and not only in bed. He would miss her ability to challenge him, her refusal to be impressed by what his money could buy, even her easy friendliness with his staff and his guests, although he would not miss her ridiculous obsession with reality shows that portrayed a lifestyle that ironically she appeared to have no interest in acquiring for herself. And missing a woman, even rating a woman as being capable of giving him more than a few weeks of amusement, was not a familiar experience for Mikhail. He had always believed that for every woman he left behind another even more appealing would soon appear and experience had borne out that trusty conviction. He would move on as he always did, of course he would.

      And no doubt she would move on quickly as well, he reflected darkly, for he was convinced that Lorne would track her down once he knew that Mikhail had ditched her. Lorne Arnold had been very taken with Kat … Lorne was waiting in the wings ready to pounce. Mikhail gritted his teeth, trying not to imagine Kat in bed with Lorne, parting those wonderfully long legs for him and making those throaty little cries when she climaxed. He felt sick to the stomach. But why should that imagery bother him so much? He wasn’t possessive about women, never had been, wasn’t sensitive either. When it was over, it was over. He wasn’t unstable and irrational like his father, the sort of man who obsessed over one special irreplaceable woman and drank himself to death when she was gone. He didn’t do emotion, he didn’t get attached … or hurt or disappointed either. That was the bottom line: he never ever made himself vulnerable. That was a risk that only the foolish ran and he had never been a fool.

      ‘What are you thinking about?’ Kat prompted, having noted the grim set of his strong jawline and the flinty hardness of his eyes as he gazed out to sea. ‘You look angry.’

      ‘Why would I be angry?’ Mikhail enquired, irritated that she watched him so closely and read him so accurately. She got under his skin in some way and wrecked his self-control. Only a few hours had passed since he had forgotten to use a condom for the first time in his life but that single little instant of shocking forgetfulness had shattered his equilibrium. How could any woman excite him that much? He needed a little distance from her; he needed to send her home for his own peace of mind.

      ‘I don’t know but you certainly don’t look happy,’ Kat remarked gingerly, picking up on his irritation as well. She would never work out what made Mikhail tick. She did recognise that he had a dark side, a core he never exposed, but he was not, as a rule, moody or bad-tempered. Quick-tempered, yes, bad-tempered, no.

      ‘I’m fine,’ Mikhail insisted while mentally engaged in drawing up a list of what he didn’t like about Kat. She asked awkward questions and refused to back off even when he made his dissatisfaction clear. She snuggled up to him in bed, which was actually rather endearing, he conceded grudgingly. He might not be a touchy-feely kind of guy, but he did not find the natural warmth and affection she showed him objectionable in any way. On the other hand, she liked the shower a lot hotter than he did and also liked to eat disgustingly sweet things—were those flaws too petty to consider? Since when had he been petty? Since when had he had to think of reasons why he should ditch a woman? He would buy her a fabulous jewel to show his appreciation. He dug out his mobile phone to make the arrangements.

      Kat sighed the minute she saw the phone in his lean hand. ‘Is that call really necessary?’ she asked gently.

      Recognising the reproof for what it was, Mikhail ground his teeth together and added another score to her tally of flaws. ‘Da … it is.’

      Kat nodded, wishing his mind weren’t always one hundred per cent focused on business. Was it naive of her to have hoped that he would let his guard down a little on her last day and engage in meaningful conversation? Mentally she winced at that pathetic hope. Had she really thought Mikhail might come over all romantic and tell her that he wanted her to extend her stay? What a silly dream that would be for her to cherish when she badly needed to go home and pack up her belongings in the farmhouse! After all, Emmie had already established that a little terraced house in the village would soon be available for rent. It wasn’t like Kat to be so impractical and it was past time that she told Mikhail what she had decided about Birkside. She studied his bold bronzed profile while he talked on his phone and her eyes warmed, any prospect of practicality draining away. She adored those eyelashes, thick as fly swats, the only softening element in his lean dark face. But there was more to her feelings than the fact that he was an incredibly handsome man and a breathtakingly passionate and exciting lover. She loved his strong work ethic, his open-handed generosity for the right charitable cause, his bluntness, his essentially liberal outlook.

      ‘We have something to