A Proposal Worth Millions. Sophie Pembroke

night, when they’d seen each other far too clearly. When she’d finally realised the threat that Dylan Jacobs had posed to her carefully ordered and settled life.

      The threat of possibility.

      ‘He’s a good man,’ Neal told her. ‘He really does want to help.’

      ‘I know.’ That was the worst part. Dylan wasn’t here to cause trouble, or make her life difficult, or unhappy. She knew him well enough to be sure of that. He was there to help, probably out of some misguided sense of obligation to a man who was already two years dead, and the friendship they’d shared. She could respect that. ‘And I need him. I should have called him myself.’ She thought of the sympathy card sitting with a few others in a drawer in her bedroom. The one with a single lily on the front and stark, slashing black handwriting inside.

       I’m so sorry, Sadie. Whatever you need, call me. Any time.

       D x.

      She hadn’t, obviously.

      ‘So we’re okay?’ Neal asked.

      ‘Yeah, Neal. We’re fine.’ It was only her own sanity she was worried about. ‘I’ll call you later in the week, let you know how things go.’

      ‘Okay.’ Neal still sounded uncertain, but he hung up anyway when she said goodbye.

      Sadie leant back in her chair, tipping her head to stare at the ceiling. All she needed to do was find a way to work with Dylan until he moved on to the next big thing—and from past experience that wouldn’t take long. Jobs, businesses, women—none of them had ever outlasted his short boredom threshold. Why would the Azure be any different? The only thing Sadie had ever known to be constant in Dylan’s life was his friendship with Adem and Neal. That was all this was about—a feeling of obligation to his friend, and the wife and child he’d left behind. She didn’t need him, she needed his money and his business.

      A niggle of guilt wriggled in her middle at the realisation that she was basically using her husband’s best friend for his money, milking his own sense of loss at Adem’s death. But if it was the only way to save the Azure...

      She’d convince him that the Azure was worth saving, and he’d stump up the money out of obligation.

      Then they could both move on.

       CHAPTER TWO

      DYLAN WAITED A while before calling Neal to yell at him. After all, he figured he owed Sadie a fair crack at their mutual friend first.

      In the meantime, the wait gave him the opportunity to settle into his suite, his frequent flyer business traveller mind assessing the space the way he always did in a new hotel room. Bed: king-size—always a good start. The linens were crisp and white, and part of his weary brain and body wanted to curl up in them right away and sleep until dinner. But he was there to do a job, and that job required him to be awake, so he pushed on.

      The room itself was a good size, but Dylan figured this was probably the biggest the hotel had, so he’d have to explore some of the smaller, ordinary rooms before making a judgement on room size. Wandering through to the bathroom, he clocked fluffy towels, good tiling and lighting, and a shower he very much looked forward to trying out later. If that shower head was as effective as it looked, and the water pressure as good as Dylan hoped, his aching muscles would appreciate the pummelling before bed.

      Back in the main room, Dylan ran his fingers across the small table and chairs by the window in the bedroom then strolled into the lounge area through the open arch of a doorway. Again, the size was good, the sofas looked comfy enough, and the coffee table was stacked with magazines and brochures detailing things to do in the area. He flicked through them quickly before deciding the mini-bar and desk were far more interesting.

      Crouching down, he yanked open the fridge door and nodded his approval. A decently stocked mini-bar—even if he never used it—was a must in Dylan’s book. Then he dropped into the swivel chair by the desk, tugged his phone from his pocket and checked for the complementary WiFi the girl at the desk had assured him was part of his room package. To his amazement, it worked first time and with minimal fuss over the password.

      He smiled to himself. He shouldn’t be so surprised. After all, this was Adem’s place, for all that Sadie was running it now. And Adem had always been vocal about the individual’s right to easy-access WiFi at all times and in all places. Something else he and Dylan had always agreed on.

      Twirling around in his chair, Dylan split his attention between checking his mail again and surveying the room as a whole—and spotted something he hadn’t noticed before. Getting to his feet, he crossed the room, pulled aside the curtains and stepped out onto the suite’s small balcony.

      Now this was worth travelling all those miles for. Breathing in deeply, Dylan savoured the warm sun on his face and forearms, and stared out. He could see now why Adem had been so evangelical about the place, right from the start, quite apart from his family connection to the hotel.

      The view was magnificent. Down below, the Aegean Sea lapped against the rocks, bright and blue and entrancing, sending up puffs of white spray with every wave. Above the rocks, scrubby bushes and juniper trees twisted up towards the clear azure sky, all the way up the peak where the hotel sat. Overhead, a bird called out as it passed, and Dylan thought for the first time all year, since he spent the holidays with his sister and her family, that he might actually be able to just switch off and enjoy the moment.

      Except he still had to deal with Sadie—and find out how bad things at the Azure really were for Neal to have sent him here when she so obviously didn’t want his help.

      Eventually, he figured enough time had passed that even Sadie would have finished yelling at the hapless accountant and, leaving the sunny warmth of the balcony behind him, Dylan headed back inside to sit at the desk and call Neal.

      After just a couple of rings Neal answered the phone with a sigh.

      ‘You can’t possibly be surprised by this call,’ Dylan pointed out.

      ‘I know, I know.’ Neal sounded stressed, in a way Dylan wasn’t used to hearing from his old friend. That alone put his nerves on high alert. ‘Trust me, I’ve already heard it all from her.’

      Her. Sadie. The memory of her expression, the shock and horror that had flashed across her face at the first sight of him, rankled all over again.

      ‘I bet you have,’ Dylan said. ‘So? Is she going to kick me out on my ear or let me help?’ It wasn’t what he’d expected to ask—he’d expected there to be a lot more yelling first, apart from anything else. But now he had Neal on the phone it seemed like the only thing that really mattered.

      ‘She’ll let you help.’

      ‘Because she’s desperate.’

      ‘Pretty much.’

      ‘Great.’ Dylan put as much sarcasm as he could muster into the word. ‘I just love being a last resort.’

      Neal let out another, world-weary sigh. ‘You know Sadie, Dyl. She’s proud. And she thinks it’s her responsibility to fulfil Adem’s dreams all on her own.’

      ‘She let you help.’ Which, Dylan had to admit, still irked him a bit.

      ‘Yeah, but I’m less smug than you.’

      Smug? ‘I’m not—’

      ‘Yes. Yes, you are. And you need not to be this week, okay?’ Neal wasn’t joking any more, Dylan could tell. And that worried him more than anything else that had happened that day.

      But, to be honest, being too smug and alienating Sadie wasn’t really what Dylan was concerned about. He was far more worried about being obvious than smug. Worried that Sadie still thought she knew more about his feelings than she could reasonably expect to after so many years—and might refuse