One Night With The Billionaire. Sarah M. Anderson

pain of knowing she wasn’t there … He’d been six years old and the agony was still fresh. Lizzy.

      Do not go there. Do not ever let yourself near that kind of emptiness again.

      But … ‘Excellent,’ Allie was saying and the pressure on his hand intensified. Strong and warm—and very, very unsettling. ‘Matt is nice and easy to say,’ she decreed. ‘And it makes you sound far less toffy. We can relax around nice, plain Matt.’

      ‘Nice and plain? Says you who’s about to force me into spangly top hat and tails.’

      ‘There is that,’ she said and she chuckled. ‘Matt and Maestro seem a fearsome combination. For the next two weeks you’re our hero. We’ll like you in both personas, and we can forget about Mathew the Banker entirely.’

      Matt or Maestro? He was thrown off balance by both. He shouldn’t answer to either. He felt … he felt …

      Okay, he didn’t know how he felt. He had an almost overwhelming urge to head back to Margot’s, climb into his gorgeous car and go home to Sydney. Taking leave had been a bad idea.

      He’d done it to say goodbye to Margot but now Margot had no intention of dying, at least for the next two weeks.

      If he left, would she still die?

      If he left they’d have no ringmaster. And more. Allie had the weight of this whole organisation on her shoulders. How could he walk away? He couldn’t walk away from Allie, he couldn’t walk away from Margot, but cool, contained Mathew Bond was feeling way out of his comfort zone.

      Allie left him to dress herself. He put on his uniform and stared at himself in Henry’s mirror and thought … what was he doing here?

      He knew what he was doing here. He had no choice.

      A knock on the van door signalled Allie’s return. She’d transformed into Mischka faster than he’d thought possible. How on earth had she applied those eyelashes? They were … extraordinary.

      ‘I’m glad ringmasters don’t need fake eyelashes,’ he said faintly and she grinned.

      ‘You’d look awesome. I have spares if you’d like.’

      ‘Thank you, but no.’

      ‘No?’ She was teasing again, her sparkle returning with her spangles, and he felt like applauding the courage she was showing.

      And the way she looked.

      And the way she smiled …

      ‘I’m ready,’ he said, more roughly than he’d intended, and he stepped down from the van, but she didn’t move back like he’d thought she would.

      ‘The vet says you gave him your credit card details and all the veterinary costs of the camels are on you,’ she said and she was still far too close.

      ‘I … yes.’ He hesitated. ‘The circus is in receivership. That’s what receivers do.’

      ‘What, throw good money after bad? You realise these camels aren’t worth anything? They stand up and get down and kneel, and they don’t bite but there’s not much else I can teach them. Saving them isn’t a financial decision.’

      ‘No,’ he said and she looked up at him.

      He was still too close.

      She was still too close.

      ‘So it’s nothing about receivership and I do need to thank you,’ she said, and suddenly the desire to reach forward and touch her was almost overwhelming.

      Almost. They were in full view of the crowd assembling for the performance. Any move he made now would be a public move, and he had no intention of making a public move.

      Or any move, he told himself harshly. No move at all.

      ‘So let’s get this circus moving,’ she said a bit breathlessly, and her breathlessness told him she was as aware of him as he was of her—which was another reason for him to step back. And step back he did.

      ‘Let’s go show some eyelashes,’ he managed.

      ‘One set of eyelashes,’ she said and grinned. ‘Coward.’

      ‘Story of my life,’ he said and turned and headed for the circus.

      Despite the chaos of the morning, the circus ran like well oiled clockwork. The ponies and dogs did their stuff without the camels. The act was a bit shorter than usual and not so impressive—but then Mischka moved seamlessly into a performance with just the dogs and he stopped thinking not impressive. He started thinking the opposite. Quite simply, Mischka and her two nondescript dogs left him awed.

      One girl in silver sparkles, dancing, turning, tumbling. Two adoring dogs following every move.

      They’d do anything for her, he thought, as he watched them from his position ringside. She wasn’t feeding them, bribing them or even talking to them. She moved and they moved, like shadows beside her, in front of her, behind her, depending on her direction. She danced backward, they were up on their hind legs strutting forward. She danced forward, they did the same thing backward. She tumbled, they turned somersaults with her. She spun, they spun.

      She stood on her head and they jumped across her spread legs and turned in crazy circles around her head. The crowd went wild.

      She stood and bowed and the dogs bowed with her. A camera flashed in the front row and he was momentarily distracted—no cameras were allowed and it was in the list of things he was supposed to watch for as ringmaster—but the guy put the camera away fast as soon as he saw Matt watching him, and Matt thought—why wouldn’t you want to take a picture of this girl and these dogs?

      ‘Why doesn’t she put this act on all the time?’ he asked Fizz as Allie and her dogs disappeared behind the curtains. Fluffy was out in the centre of the ring, setting up the next joke. Fizz and Mathew had a fraction of time to speak.

      ‘It takes too much out of her,’ Fizz said. ‘That’s an amazing acrobatic performance and she still has to do the trapeze act. She’s so good we could just about run the circus around her only she’d fall in a heap.’ He frowned then and glowered at Matt and Matt knew he wasn’t Matt in this guy’s eyes. He was the guy who was pulling the rug from under all of them. ‘She’s falling in a heap anyway. She’s not eating. She’s not sleeping. Her van light was on all last night, and when we bullied her to eat breakfast this morning she looked like she was going to throw up. But there’s nothing we can do about it. Nothing any of us can do.’

      He didn’t wait for a response—maybe because he knew Matt didn’t have an answer to give.

      Instead he pinned on his clown grin, he bounced out to join Fluffy and the circus went on.

      They took their bows as usual, they started clearing, ready for the evening performance in four hours, and at some stage Allie realised their ringmaster was no longer among them.

      Fair enough, she thought as she worked on. He had his own life. He’d agreed to play ringmaster. That didn’t mean he had to be hands-on, a true member of the circus troupe.

      So why did she feel … empty?

      No reason at all, she told herself. She had enough to worry about without Mathew … Matt Bond’s continual presence. He sort of … unnerved her.

      He’d kissed her.

      She’d been kissed before. No big deal.

      Yes, but Mathew Bond was a big deal.

      ‘He’s Matt,’ she told herself and she said it out loud as if the words could somehow make him ordinary.

      He wasn’t ordinary.

      He’d saved her camel.

      He was killing her circus.

      No. It wasn’t him, she told herself fairly. She couldn’t hold it against him. Her