Tycoon's Terms of Engagement

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She’d not been anywhere outside Australia, despite her mum now living in France with husband number three. Because, unlike her mum, she wouldn’t walk out on her whole world for a man. Unlike her mum she wouldn’t walk out on her responsibilities. And Dan needed someone. By default it had to be her.

That fateful trip Outback had been the first Stephanie had planned—her choice, her organisation—and she’d been so excited because, yes, she’d longed to travel. But Dan had been recovering from the flu just before they’d left and his immunity had been weak. And when they’d been miles from anywhere he’d suddenly got really, really sick.

Headache. Fever. Rash.

Stephanie had never been so afraid. Her brother had almost lost his life. As it was the meningitis had cost him limbs—his lower arm, his leg. All his dreams of sporting fame and fortune had been obliterated.

And all because she’d been the one who’d insisted on their trip to the back of beyond—where medical help was hours away.

‘But what about Queenstown, New Zealand? You had a list on that just the other day on your blog.’

Jack interrupted her thoughts.

Frowning, she glanced at him—and registered his frown.

Queenstown?

Oh, yes. Her face burned as she suddenly remembered. A schoolfriend had emailed and helped her. She was so close to being caught out right now.

‘Oh, you know—I meant further afield than New Zealand,’ she recovered quickly. ‘I meant Europe.’

‘Mmm…’ he nodded, negotiating an exit onto a different motorway. ‘The travel pieces on your blog are done well. You can tell you’ve spent some time in the places.’

Well, someone had. That person just wasn’t always her.

Tara helped her with the make-up lists, and a few of her other school and uni friends helped her with the destination and restaurant lists. Other stuff she gleaned from the internet.

The truth was that Steffi Leigh was a phony—a caricature of a woman, and not even the author of all the ideas she shared.

So she had to be more careful in answering him. If he knew she faked it—that she got as much help as she did to generate content—he wouldn’t be interested in buying the blog at all.

‘I haven’t covered many destinations outside of Australia,’ she said brightly. ‘I guess that’s something your people could build on if you decide to take it over.’

‘Possibly.’

She fidgeted with her phone, absently rubbing her gloved thumb back and forth over the screen, wishing Tara or Dan would hurry up and text back to let her know all was okay.

‘What about you?’ She flipped the question back at him to fill the lull. ‘What was your most amazing adventure? You must have had so many.’ And, yes, she was envious.

‘It’s a thing in our family to take a year out to travel. Nothing but a backpack and a few hundred dollars. ‘Bye-bye—see you in a year’.’

‘Really? No big money? No five-star hotels?’ she teased.

‘None.’

Wow. Curiosity piqued, she twisted to look at him. ‘Where did you go?’

‘I didn’t travel around as much as my brothers did when they went. I spent most of my time in South East Asia. A little village in Indonesia.’

‘Working?’

‘Volunteering,’ he corrected. ‘At an orphanage.’

‘Doing “the charity thing”?’ A tiny thread of jealousy tinted her tone.

‘Is that cynicism I hear from Steffi Leigh? Is it so awful to want to help others?’

Of course not. And cynicism wasn’t what she’d intended. But now he’d heard it the only thing she could do was make a joke of it. ‘So you did your year and now your conscience is salved? You can spend the rest of your life doing the five-star thing?’

‘Answer me this, Ms Five Ways with Ugly Festive Woollens, do you do charity work?’

‘Sure.’ Charity begins at home. But she played up the flippant. ‘A cocktail party. A fundraising dinner. Art auctions. You know how it goes…’

And she was so faking it now. She’d never been part of that wealthy socialite do-gooder scene.

‘Perhaps.’ He glanced at her, his eyes glinting brighter than the sun.

Possibly. Perhaps. Full of the non-committal, wasn’t he?

‘That’s your phone again.’ She grimaced as it rang loudly yet again.

‘You can’t cope with the fact I won’t answer it?’

‘Isn’t it rude?’

‘Isn’t it more rude to sit texting while we’re trying to have a conversation?’ He nodded pointedly at the phone in her hand. ‘You’re the one addicted to your phone. Updating your social media status every two seconds?’

‘I was letting Tara know I’m going to be a little late, otherwise she’d worry. Don’t you check in with family when you travel?’

‘No.’

‘Well, someone wants you now.’

That grim look hardened the line of his mouth. Whoever it was, he was fully into avoidance. And what was the betting it was a woman?

Irritation spurted. ‘What if it’s an emergency?’ she prompted.

‘It’s not.’

‘How can you tell?’

‘Because we have a special ringtone for emergencies.’

For a half-second she gaped at him. ‘You’re making that up.’

‘Yes, I am.’

‘What if someone is worried about you?’

That oddly tense look crossed his face just has his phone started ringing again. ‘I can’t answer it. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m driving.’

‘You want me to answer it?’ she asked, not meaning it at all.

Suddenly he smiled. ‘Would you mind? That’d be great.’

Huh? He’d called her bluff.

‘Fine.’ She twisted to get his phone from where it lay on the tiny back seat, swiping the screen to answer it. ‘Jack Wolfe’s phone—this is Steffi Leigh speaking. How may I help you?’ she asked in dulcet tones.

‘Uh… pardon me?’

Yep. A woman. Stephanie’s blood simmered. ‘This is Jack Wolfe’s phone… Steffi Leigh speaking,’ she repeated. Ultra-dulcet.

‘Uh, hi… Steffi. Is Jack there? Can I speak to him?’

Definitely a woman. A young, breathless woman, desperate to speak to him.

‘I’m sorry,’ Stephanie said slowly, ‘he’s driving at the moment, and the vehicle we’re in doesn’t have any kind of hands-free capability. Can I take a message for you?’

‘Uh, yes, please… This is Bella.’

Bella. Nice name for a lover. What was the betting she was tall and slender and stunning—?

‘Can you tell him that the board is waiting for that report and they’re really pressuring me for a date.’ Bella sounded apologetic. ‘I know he doesn’t want to be disturbed, because he’s really busy over there, but they want to know his thoughts as soon as possible. They won’t make a decision without his input.’

Huh? Not a personal call.

‘Also, he’s had a zillion messages,’ Bella added. ‘I’ve tried to prioritise, and I’ve put most of them off ‘til he’s back next week, but the Italian printing company are really pushing to speak with him. Tell him I’m almost out of options for holding them off. The others I’ve listed in an email to his private account. If he can go through that when he has a minute that would be great.’

‘Okay—anything more?’ Steffi asked, wanting to get off the phone now.

‘Actually, yes…’ Bella sounded ultra-apologetic. ‘That freelance photographer has been phoning every morning since last Thursday, desperate for an answer on the shots he sent over. I know Jack wants to review them personally, so if he can take a quick look that would be fantastic, because I know he doesn’t want to lose him to any competitor if he turns out to be any good. Oh, and the couple who are doing the revision to the French cycling route had all their gear stolen when they were waiting for a train. They’re covered with insurance, of course, but now the local mayor is on us because he’s worried his town is going to get a bad report. He won’t settle for speaking to anyone but Jack. And—’