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Memo: The Billionaire's Proposal
Melissa McClone
Chaney Sullivan's Note to Self: When re-entering your billionaire boss's world. . . Remember why you turned him down all those years ago ; not because you wanted to, but because infamous playboys like Drake Llewelyn are trouble with a capital T! He plays to win. You can't afford to take another gamble on love and lose, no matter how much he says he's changed.So arm yourself against his movie-star gorgeous looks, devastating charm, intoxicating smile. . . Oh, no! This is going to be so much harder than I thought!
Anticipation shot from her lips all the way down to her toes. She swallowed. “Just one kiss?”
“Only one,” he whispered.
Slowly, as if giving her the chance to say no or back away again, he brought his mouth toward hers.
Every nerve-ending tingled in hope. But a voice—common sense, perhaps?—shouted a warning.
Too late. She raised her chin and closed her eyes.
His lips touched gently against hers, as if joining something delicate or fragile. Light, soft, tender.
The way he kissed made her feel cherished and adored, and she liked thinking he cared for her in that way. An inviting warmth, like a sunny day after a rainstorm, settled over her, making her feel as if she’d finally reached the destination she’d been seeking.
Drake kept his hands at his sides and only touched her with his lips. Yet she felt a closeness, as if she were being embraced.
Not at all how she’d thought Drake Llewelyn would kiss, but it was enough to tell her what she’d known in her heart, what she’d feared.
One kiss would never be enough.
9 to 5
From city girl—to corporate wife!
They’re working side by side, nine to five…
But, no matter how hard these couples
try to keep their relationships strictly professional,
romance is undeniably on the agenda!
Will a date in the office diary
lead to an appointment at the altar?
Find out in this exciting mini-series.
Look out for more office romances, coming soon!
With a degree in mechanical engineering from Stanford University, the last thing Melissa McClone ever thought she would be doing was writing romance novels. But analysing engines for a major US airline just couldn’t compete with her ‘happily-ever-afters’. When she isn’t writing, caring for her three young children or doing laundry, Melissa loves to curl up on the couch with a cup of tea, her cats and a good book. She enjoys watching home decorating shows to get ideas for her house—a 1939 cottage that is slowly being renovated. Melissa lives in Lake Oswego, Oregon, with her own real-life hero husband, two daughters, a son, two loveable but oh-so-spoiled indoor cats, and a no-longer-stray outdoor kitty that decided to call the garage home. Melissa loves to hear from her readers. You can write to her at PO Box 63, Lake Oswego, OR 97034, USA, or contact her via her website: www.melissamcclone.com
MEMO: THE BILLIONAIRE’S PROPOSAL
BY
MELISSA McCLONE
MILLS & BOON
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk/)
For my blog readers,
especially Amy, Brandy, catslady, Dru, Jane, limecello,
Nathalie, Rottie_mom, Sarita, Tori and Virginia,
Whose daily comments kept me smiling
while I finished writing this book.
Special thanks to Robin Barrett, M.D.,
Roxanne and Brian Coyne, Greg Taylor, Virginia
Kantra, Terri Reed and my family.
PROLOGUE
“I KNEW this internship was a chance of a lifetime, but I never thought I’d make so many wonderful friends.” As the smell of beer and grease wafted in the air at the Hare and Stag pub, Chaney Sullivan raised a pint of ale in honor of the twelve coworkers sitting around the table for her going-away party. Her chest tightened at the thought of leaving London. “I’m going to miss you all so much.”
“Just wait until we show up on your doorstep wanting to go to Disneyland.” Gemma, who rented a room to Chaney, tossed her mane of blond hair behind her shoulder. “You won’t be missing us then.”
“Disneyland, Universal Studies, Beverly Hills, Venice Beach.” The thought of seeing these people again brought a ball of warmth to the center of Chaney’s chest. She set her glass on the table. “I’m happy to play tour guide if any of you come visit Los Angeles.”
“Does that include me?” a deep male voice said from behind her.
The familiar Welsh accent filled her tummy with butterflies. The flapping of their wings matched the speed of her pulse.
She stood, turned and faced Drake Llewelyn, CEO of Dragon Llewelyn Limited. The top of her head came to his chin, and she stared up at him.
His glossy-magazine-model good looks and athletic build, hidden beneath an expensive tailored suit, always brought oohs and ahs from females. His way of making each employee feel as if they were the key to his company’s success had earned him the gratitude of all who worked for him regardless of gender. But in Chaney’s opinion his can-do attitude and work ethic were what made the man.
At twenty-nine years old—only seven years older than she was herself—he’d built Dragon Llewelyn into a successful multinational corporation with a global portfolio of media and telecommunications businesses. This he’d done through a combination of raw sweat and street smarts.
Her smile widened with admiration. She couldn’t help herself.
He looked every inch a power broker, except for one thing—his hair. No neatly trimmed above the collar, corporate style for him. His dark wavy locks fell past his collar in the back, making him look more rakish than respectable.
She’d imagined running her fingers through his hair more than once. She’d imagined herself doing a lot of things with him. None of which had anything to do with her internship responsibilities.
He raised a brow, as if waiting for an answer. Which he was, she realized. Drake Llewelyn didn’t like waiting for anything or anyone. In the four months she’d been interning in the mergers and acquisitions department, she’d learned that much about him.
Chaney lifted her chin, acting bolder than she felt. The beer, she wondered, or maybe the realization she would be an ocean and continent away from him tomorrow night. “Of course that includes you, Mr. Llewelyn.”
“Drake,” he corrected. “As of an hour ago, your internship ended. You no longer work for me.”
His warm brown eyes with golden flecks gazed into hers, making Chaney feel as if she were the next special project he wanted to tackle. Her insides quivered.
Not that he would, with the bevy of beautiful women he dated and a supermodel currently being deemed his girlfriend du jour by the media.
But the thought raised Chaney’s temperature ten degrees. If this were a birthday party instead of a going-away party, she knew what she’d wish for when blowing out the candles.
“Drake.” She forced the name from her parched throat, feeling more like a tweener with her first crush than a twenty-two year old woman. Okay, she did have a huge crush on him, as did every other female who worked at the company. Probably every woman who breathed, no matter what age or marital status.
The man was a catch.
His chiseled cheekbones and jaw tempted a woman to reach out and touch them. His full lips hinted at long, hot kisses. And his bank account promised a life free from financial worry.
Prince Charming had nothing on Drake Llewelyn. He was King Midas and Adonis rolled into one. What woman wouldn’t want to be the one who captured his heart?
“Make a note of our new travel guide in Southern California, Gem,” he said in that halfteasing, half-serious tone Chaney had come to know and love. “With a cable channel in our portfolio now, we may be spending more time there.”
Adoration filled Gemma’s eyes. She, too, had fallen under the spell of the dragon, Drake’s nickname in the office. She batted her lashes and flashed a smile. “Already noted, sir.”
“Very good.” His easy smile crinkled the corners of his eyes.
Chaney bit back a sigh. She’d been longing for the unattainable—okay, him—since she met him on the third day of her internship.
Gemma scooted a chair to the table, right between hers and Chaney’s. Everyone else seemed more interested in filling their pints than staring at their gorgeous boss.
“But we’re not here to watch football on the telly.” Drake motioned to the table littered with half-filled glasses and plates of French fries. “A bon voyage party needs more than beer and chips. I’ll be right back.”
He strode away and spoke to the bartender. Soon plates of appetizers arrived along with bottles of champagne and glasses. The table resembled a buffet. Leave it to Mr. Llewelyn—make that Drake.
“Now we can send Chaney back to the States in style,” he said with a satisfied smile.
A barmaid handed her a glass of champagne.
“This is so…” Chaney felt as light and carefree as the bubbles floating to the top of her glass, but she didn’t want to sound starstruck even if she felt that way inside. “…thoughtful of you, sir. Thank you.”
“It’s the least I can do after the hard work and long hours you’ve put in these past months, especially with the acquisition of the cable channel.” Drake raised his glass. “To Chaney, who will be missed.”
Her co-workers raised their champagne flutes and repeated the cheer.
Tears stung Chaney’s eyes. Her tongue felt two sizes too big. This was more of a sendoff than she could imagine. She muttered her gratitude and sipped her champagne.
He handed her a white handkerchief, the kind her grandfather had kept in his back pocket. She never thought a younger man like Drake would carry one, too. The chivalrous, old-fashioned gesture brought another well of tears.
Drake Llewelyn was almost too good to be true.
As Chaney dabbed her eyes with the cloth, her friends attacked the food like a pack of starving hyenas. She didn’t blame them. Everything looked delicious and smelled good, too.
“Aren’t you going to eat?” Drake asked.
She nodded. “I’m trying to figure out what I want to try first.”
“I know what I want.”
“The shrimp?”
He moved closer, so close his warm breath fanned her neck, and the male scent of him surrounded her. “Too much garlic.”
Chaney shivered, a combination of excitement and fear. She was used to swooning from afar, not up close and personal. Though she worked on the same floor as him, their interactions had been limited to meetings and a few conversations in the hallway. Still she mustered her courage. “So what appeals to you, Drake?”
“You.”
The air whooshed from her lungs. This couldn’t be happening. She clenched her fists, digging her fingernails into her palms. Ouch. At least she wasn’t dreaming. “I, um…”
“I’ve been watching you,” he said quietly, regarding her over his champagne glass. “You’re smart, hardworking and sexy as hell. Don’t go back to the States, Chaney. Stay here in London with me.”
Her heart beat in triple time. Who was she kidding? The hammering of her heart was probably taking years off her life, but she didn’t care. Drake Llewelyn wanted her to stay in London. He must have broken up with the supermodel.
Anticipation danced through Chaney. Excitement, too. All the time she’d been dreaming about him, she had no idea he’d noticed her as anything other than one of the interns. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“You do work for me, darling. Did,” he corrected himself. “I’m not in the habit of dating employees.”
None of her daydreams had ever been this good. Nothing in her life had ever made her feel so good. Chaney wiggled her toes. But she’d better not get too far ahead of herself.
“You really want me to stay?” she asked.
“Absolutely.”
Oh, wow. She wanted to stay in London. With him. Mrs. Drake Llewelyn. She inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. “For how long?”
His brow slanted. “For as long as we’re both having fun.”
Fun. She thought about his answer, repeated the words in her head. For as long as we’re both having fun.
Drake didn’t want forever; he wanted to have fun. What he really wanted, she realized, was sex. And then move on to the woman who caught his eye, the same way he had in the months she’d worked for him, the same way he did with the companies he bought, restructured and sold for a megaprofit once the newness wore off.
Disappointment ripped through Chaney. The legs of the pedestal she’d placed him on crumbled. She straightened.
No more getting carried away where Drake was concerned. She pressed her toes firmly to the bottom of her boots. No more crush, either. She wasn’t any man’s plaything.
What had she been thinking? The guy wasn’t a catch. He might be gorgeous. He might be rich. But he probably still had a girlfriend, too. That would make him a cheater.
Disgust slithered down her spine.
Drake Llewelyn was nothing but a player, a man who thought nothing of going through a slew of women all in the name of having “fun.”
“Sorry, Mr. Llewellyn.” Chaney squared her shoulders. “You’re targeting the wrong girl. Short-term investments, however appealing, are too risky for me. I’m only interested in a long-term investment strategy.”
CHAPTER ONE
