The Billionaire Boss's Innocent Bride. Lindsay Armstrong

floor it opened directly into Max Goodwin’s penthouse.

      It wasn’t Max who greeted her, however, it was a man of about forty who said pleasantly, ‘Miss Hill, I believe? I’m Max’s domestic co-ordinator, Jake Frost. I’m afraid he’s running a few minutes late. Would you care to come through to the lounge and may I get you a drink? Oh—I’ll take the shopping bags.’

      ‘Thank you, thank you.’ She also divested herself of her jacket and scarf. ‘And just a soft drink would be nice—shopping can be exhausting and thirst-making.’

      ‘It would appear you’ve done quite a bit of it,’ Jake remarked as he relieved her of the carrier bags.

      ‘It’s not for me,’ Alex assured him. ‘I mean, it is, but I’ll be giving it all back. It’s not as if I’m ruinously spendthrift or anything like that.’ Her eyes twinkled suddenly behind her glasses. ‘Oh, dear. Does it really matter what people think of me?’

      Jake Frost took a moment to take a more personal, less professional look at the new interpreter. He’d been told about her and not thought much one way or the other about it. Now he decided she was charming even if she was not at all the kind of woman Max Goodwin usually…

      But what am I thinking? he wondered. This is business.

      All the same it was with a genuine smile that he said, ‘I think it would be a shame not to enjoy it just a little bit, even if you are giving them all back.’

      A few minutes later, Alex had a tall, frosted glass in her hand as she admired the view from Max Goodwin’s penthouse. It was a beautiful view over the river and the city in the last of the daylight as lights started to twinkle on and she identified some of the landmarks.

      The lounge behind her was spacious and absolutely eye-catching. The carpet was sea green, the couches were covered in apricot cut velvet with poppy-red cushions and the occasional tables were enamelled black.

      A magnificent Chinese cabinet in black-and-gold lacquer dominated one wall and on another a marvellous, almost full-length abstract painting took pride of place and brought a bouquet of beautiful, swirling colours to the room.

      ‘Hello, Alex,’ a voice said behind her, and she turned to see Max Goodwin stroll into the lounge.

      He’d obviously just showered, his hair was still damp, and he was now wearing jeans and a sweater. He walked over to the bar and poured himself a drink.

      ‘Do sit down,’ he invited.

      Jake came in as she took a seat. ‘I’ve rung ahead to say you might be a little late, Max. I’ve put the wine in a cooler bag for you—’ he indicated the bag on the bar ‘—and here are the flowers.’ He picked up a bunch and laid them back again. ‘So I’ll get going, if you don’t mind.’

      ‘Sure. Cheers!’ Max Goodwin saluted his domestic co-ordinator and sat down opposite Alex. ‘Well, how did you get on this afternoon?’

      ‘Fine,’ Alex said. ‘I think. But look, Mr Goodwin, if you’re running late again maybe we could find some other time for this?’

      ‘No, it doesn’t matter if I’m a bit late, there is no other time, and I’m determined to enjoy this drink.’

      Alex shrugged. ‘I just wouldn’t like to make you late for your date.’

      He looked amused. ‘My date, as you put it with a certain amount of disapproval, Miss Hill, is with my grandmother. She’s in a nursing home at the moment so the wine and the flowers are to cheer her up.’

      ‘Oh.’ Alex took her glasses off and polished them. Had she sounded disapproving and if so why? Had the subconscious impression been growing in her that Max Goodwin was something of a playboy? Helped along no doubt by the wine and the flowers, those good looks and that impressive physique and the fact that he wasn’t married. Along with, of course, that unexplained little trill of wariness she’d experienced at the interview this morning.

      But assuming she’d misread that, wasn’t all the rest of it akin to judging a book by its cover?

      ‘I’m sorry,’ she said and smiled suddenly at him, ‘if I sounded disapproving. I, well, it seems one of my impressions of you is that you could be a bit of a playboy but I don’t really have any concrete evidence so I shall discard it.’

      For a long moment he was speechless.

      Alex glanced at her watch. ‘Should we begin the briefing?’ she suggested, her eyes a serious hazel behind her repositioned glasses, but with her lips still quirking.

      Max Goodwin recovered himself. ‘Thank you,’ he said gravely, ‘for being prepared to revise your opinions. Naturally, I don’t see myself as a playboy, although our definitions could vary—’ he grimaced ‘—but perhaps it’s not a good idea to go into that. And—’ a lightning look of wicked amusement flew Alex’s way ‘—to be honest, disapproval of any kind doesn’t often come my way so I’ll look upon it as a salutary experience. OK, on to the briefing.’

      When he stopped talking Alex had a fair idea of the gist of the negotiations he was undertaking as well as a familiarity with the territories they covered. It would be a huge coup for Goodwin Minerals if they scored this breakthrough into the Chinese market, she realized.

      Then he glanced at his watch and drained his beer. ‘I should get going. Thank you for your time, though.’ He stood up and retrieved the cooler bag from the bar and a colourful bunch of gerberas, white daisies and asparagus fern wrapped in cellophane.

      It was when they got to the foyer and she collected her bags and jacket that he said humorously, ‘I hope you haven’t parked too far away, Alex?’ He ushered her into the lift.

      ‘I don’t have a car.’

      He frowned and hesitated before pushing a button. ‘What do you mean?’

      ‘I don’t drive.’

      He looked at her for a moment as if she might have escaped a lunar landscape, and Alex had a secret desire to laugh.

      ‘So how do you get about?’

      ‘Buses,’ she said gravely. ‘I also have a bicycle. And, very occasionally, taxis.’

      ‘Where do you live?’

      She told him.

      ‘That’s on my way.’ He pushed the basement button and the doors closed. ‘I’ll give you a lift.’

      ‘You really don’t need to do that, Mr Goodwin,’ she protested. ‘I’m quite used—’

      ‘Alex,’ he said with his eyes glinting, ‘a piece of advice, don’t argue with me. Especially not when I’m being at my best because it may not last that long.’

      The lift came to rest at the basement floor and the doors slid open.

      ‘Well—’ She temporized.

      ‘Besides which,’ he added, eyeing her carrier bags, ‘you’ve got an awful lot of loot on you by the look of it, all paid for with my money—you could get robbed, mobbed, anything, and I wouldn’t appreciate that.’

      ‘Are you saying so long as the “loot” was OK, you wouldn’t mind what happened to me?’ she demanded.

      ‘Now that is putting words into my mouth,’ he drawled. ‘But enough of this chit-chat, let’s go!’

      Alex had no choice but to follow him as he strode across the garage towards a gleaming navy-blue Bentley that looked brand-spanking new.

      ‘Wow!’ She pulled up and couldn’t help gazing at the car admiringly, her ire dissolving somewhat. ‘I don’t know much about cars but this is something else!’

      ‘Yes, a beauty, isn’t she? So damn classy—if she were a girl I could marry her.’

      Alex had to laugh as he unlocked the boot and they deposited her