Tycoon's Terms of Engagement. Natalie Anderson

clouded her eyes. ‘I believe in what I do.’

      So did a lot of people, given how popular she was. Her blog and video channel transcended borders. Her audience went way beyond Melbourne—beyond Australia, even. Apparently millions of young women hung on her every word. And she had plenty of words. There were lists on what not to wear, on make-up, movies. On where to eat, what to eat… There were commentaries on celebrity outfits during the awards season. She had people clicking on her blog as she provided chat through movie awards, music awards…

      It was a bright, bubbly mash-up of lifestyle, design and travel tips, geared towards the urban young woman. The segment of the market his company wanted greater engagement with.

      Jack had read only a couple of her blogs and watched mere seconds of one video before switching it off in annoyance at the over-the-top girlish effervescence. But he’d relied on the advice of his researchers that Steffi Leigh was it. Apparently making enough money not to need a real job. And yet she wanted this deal.

      That was why she was determined to be nice to him. Even when she didn’t really want to be. Which told him that she needed this sale to go ahead. Badly.

      Why was that? Did she need the money to fund her lifestyle? Her purchases? He’d wanted to know why—within five minutes of meeting her he now wanted to know everything.

      What he didn’t want was an afternoon of traipsing around while she fed him bubbly tips, trying to close the sale. He wanted to cut to the chase and understand the reality.

      ‘What if I took you somewhere?’ he asked.

      ‘As you’ve insisted on driving, I’d assumed that was happening already. By the way, I’m loving being parked illegally for so long.’

      Suddenly Jack knew exactly what he was going to do. A long drive in a vintage convertible with a beautiful woman beside him was every man’s fantasy, right?

      It wouldn’t be the first time for Jack, but he had the feeling it was going to be the most fun.

      ‘We’re going to be little longer than we scheduled,’ he said unapologetically. ‘But it’ll be worth it.’

      Her polite façade tilted. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t stay longer than we initially scheduled.’

      ‘Why not? Is there some place you’ve got to be? Some new restaurant opening?’ He wondered if she’d answer honestly.

      Her smile remained fixed. ‘No, but—’

      ‘There’s no problem, then.’ He didn’t give her time to argue. ‘We can escape.’

      ‘I’ve already told you I don’t need to escape anything in my life.’

      ‘Everyone needs to escape some time.’

      She looked at him, her eyes narrowing. But she didn’t answer. Didn’t lie. She did want to run away—and not really from him. There were things in her life she wanted to escape.

      ‘You want me to buy your blog?’ he asked.

      Her lips parted. ‘Are you blackmailing me?’

      He wasn’t, actually, but it was interesting that she’d leapt to that conclusion. She definitely had thoughts on the darker side.

      ‘All I meant was that we might talk at length about the deal on our drive. I find driving helps me think. And make decisions.’

      She still hesitated.

      He was used to people saying yes. Spoilt, perhaps, but there it was. He was used to asking and receiving. In terms of business and in terms of women. But it was only because of what they could get from him in return. And that wasn’t emotion. It was cash. Or connections. Or both.

      ‘There’s a retreat I have to take a look at.’ He was booked to stay there after his day in the city. He’d bring his stay forward a night.

      ‘A retreat?’ she queried.

      He nodded. ‘It would be a good source of inspiration for your blog. You can take a look around and show me how you’d put it all together online.’

      Truth was the Green Veranda wasn’t right for her blog. Nor was it going into one of the Wolfe travel guides. It was too expensive, and already too exclusive to need it. It catered to a celebrity clientele, or the über-wealthy who didn’t want attention from the general public or any intrusion. Solitude and privacy guaranteed.

      Jack didn’t want that level of isolation and introspection now—not with these two days stretching before him like purgatory. No, he needed distraction.

      And he had it sitting right beside him.

      ‘A retreat as in… like a health spa?’ she asked.

      ‘Sort of. A very expensive private hotel. You can stay the night, yes?’ The idea was growing on him with every second.

      ‘Stay the night?’ she echoed.

      He laughed at the hint of horror in her voice. He’d let her off that hook a little later—for now it was too much fun taking in her reaction. Wickedly amused, he watched her internal war—whether to breathe yes or snap no?

      Her blush deepened as she gazed back at him, her eyes as huge and as brilliant as the sky above them. Spark, heat, defiance, indecision. He swore he could almost hear her pulse racing. His own heart quickened in response.

      In the end he decided to take the burden from her.

      ‘Sure.’ He smiled as he put the car in gear and pulled back into the line of traffic. ‘Because I’m kidnapping you.’