British Bachelors: Gorgeous and Impossible. Jessica Hart

her credit, she was not wearing a self-satisfied smirk but the same look of professional non-confrontational indifference he was used to seeing from city suits around the boardroom table where some of his riskier ideas were discussed.

      Except for him this was not a job. It was very personal. And even the idea of sharing his deepest concerns and emotions about his parents made him bristle with resentment and refusal to comply.

      He hadn’t built a venture-capital company from the ruins of his father’s business without taking risks, but they had been calculated risks, based on information he had personally checked and worked on until he’d known that the family’s money would not be wasted on the investment.

      This girl—this woman—in this ridiculous outfit had arrived at his home without his approval.

      His sister might have confidence in the talent agency, but he knew nothing about the plan, and if there was one thing guaranteed to annoy him it was things being planned behind the scenes without his knowledge.

      Cassie was perfectly aware of that fact, but she’d done it anyway. Her intentions might be excellent, but the reality was a little difficult to stomach.

      A light tapping broke Mark out of his reverie, and he flashed a glance at the girl just in time to see her keying furiously into the cell phone, her sparkly purple-painted fingernails flashing in the sunlight. Although how she could see through those huge sunglasses was a mystery to him.

      In the living room she had been more stunned than stunning, but in the bright white light reflected back from the patio her skin appeared pale and almost translucent, as though she hadn’t seen sunlight for quite some time. The contrast between her English-rose complexion and the startlingly bright scarves wrapped around her neck was so great that it distracted him for a moment from the fact that she was talking.

      ‘I’ll be with you in a moment, Mr Belmont,’ she said away from the phone. ‘I’m just trying to find out the location of the nearest hotel on the island. Unless, of course, you can recommend one to me?’

      She looked up and gave him a half smile—a pink-cheeked, polite kind of smile that still managed to brighten her whole face, drawing his full attention.

      ‘I apologise for not booking accommodation before I arrived, but this assignment was rather last-minute. I’ll need to stay somewhere close by, so I don’t waste too much time travelling back and forth. Don’t worry,’ she added, ‘I’ll be out of your hair within the hour.’

      ‘A hotel? That is quite out of the question,’ he answered.

      ‘Oh?’ She raised her eyebrows and her fingers stilled. ‘And why is that?’

      Mark pushed his hands into his pockets to keep them from fastening around that pretty pale neck and squeezing hard.

      ‘Well, for one thing there is indeed a small hotel in Gaios. But it is currently closed for over-running refurbishments. And secondly …’ He paused before saying the words. ‘Paxos is a very small island. People talk and ask questions. I hardly think it would be appropriate for you to stay in rented accommodation while you’re working on a confidential project for the Belmont family. And I’m afraid that you certainly don’t look like a package holiday tourist.’

      To her credit, she didn’t look down at her outfit to check if something was amiss. ‘I don’t? Excellent. Because I have no intention of looking like a tourist. I want to look like me. As for confidentiality …? I can assure you that I’m totally discreet. Anything you tell me will be in strict confidence. I’ve worked on many confidential projects, and none of my previous clients ever had any problems with my work. Now, is there anything else you’d like to know before I head to town?’

      He lifted his chin and dropped his shoulders back, chest out, legs braced, creating the sort of profile his media consultants had recommended would be perfect to grace the covers of business magazines. Judging by the slight widening of her eyes, it was equally effective on the patio.

      ‘Only this. You seem to be under the illusion that I’ve agreed to this arrangement. That is not the case. Any contract you might have is between my publisher and your agency. I certainly haven’t signed anything. And I have a big problem with being railroaded. Which is exactly how I’m feeling right now. I dislike surprises, Miss Sloane.’

      She lifted her chin, and instantly the firmness of the jawline on her heart-shaped face screamed out to him that this was a girl who rarely took no for an answer.

      ‘It’s unfortunate that you weren’t expecting me,’ she replied with a tight smile, ‘but I can assure you that I have no plans to return home before this assignment is completed.’

      She reached into the tiny pocket of her jacket, pulled out a small business card and presented it to him. ‘I’ve just survived two long international flights, one hour on the hydrofoil from Corfu, and twenty minutes negotiating car hire with the charming Greek gentleman at the port to get here. I don’t intend to leave until my boss instructs me to. So. May I suggest a compromise trial period? Let’s say twenty-four hours? And if you don’t find my services valuable, then I promise to jump into my hire car and get out of your life. One day. That’s all I’m asking.’

      ‘One day?’ Mark echoed through gritted teeth.

      ‘Absolutely.’

      A smile warmed her lips, and for the first time since they’d met it was a real smile. The kind of smile that made the Cupid’s-bow curve of her full lips crinkle girlishly at the edges and the pink in her cheeks flush with enjoyment. She was enjoying this. And she was clearly determined to make him do all the work.

      ‘Very well. Twenty-four hours it is. In which case there is only one possible option,’ he continued. ‘You will be staying here at the villa with me until I decide whether I need your help or not, Miss Sloane.’

CHAPTER THREE

      ‘YOU want me to stay here at the villa?’ Lexi looked around the patio, then back towards the house. ‘You did say you lived here alone, Mr Belmont? Is that correct? I’ll take your silence as a yes. In that case, aren’t you worried about what your wife or girlfriend will think about the arrangement? A single man living here alone suddenly has a young lady houseguest? There are bound to be questions.’ Lexi glanced at him. ‘Perhaps you have nieces?’

      ‘I’m afraid not. Two nephews. Both under five. Go by the names of Charles and Freddie.’

      ‘Shame.’ She nodded and screwed up her face. ‘How about cousins? Old schoolfriends? Casual acquaintances that just happen to pass by?’

      ‘No subterfuge will be necessary, Miss Sloane. You can call yourself a business colleague or personal assistant for as long as you stay here. Take your pick.’

      ‘Business colleague it is. Personal assistant smacks too much of a girl who organises your dry-cleaning, runs your office and buys presents for your lucky lady-friends—of which I’m sure there are many.’

      Lexi leaned forward slightly towards Mark.

      ‘I don’t actually perform those particular duties, by the way. In case you’re wondering. Ghostwriting. That’s it. Okay? Splendid. Now, seeing as I’ll be staying here, would you mind helping me with my suitcases? I do have quite a few.’

      ‘What do you mean a few?’

      Mark strolled over to the edge of the patio and stared at the tiny hire car. Lexi tottered past him and descended the two low steps that curved down to the driveway.

      ‘You men have it easy.’ She laughed, opening up the boot and heaving the two massive matching cases out onto the pebble driveway. ‘A couple of suits and that’s it. But I’ve just spent three weeks on the road with different events every evening.’

      A cabin bag and a leather Gladstone bag followed.

      ‘Clients expect a girl to wear