News just in...
The cameras were out, the paparazzi waiting, seamstresses across the city
ready to rip off whichever designer frock they were about to be dazzled by,
yet all were sorely disappointed when so-fabulous-it-hurts, thinking man’s
It-Girl Meg Kelly – the youngest, and we think most adorable, offspring of
one-time uber-financier, some-time squillionaire, KInG of the corporate jungle
Quinn Kelly – failed to show at the opening of hot new nightclub Bliss.
But wait, there’s more!
Sources close to the family say she hasn’t slept at her apartment or her
folks’ pad, the stunning Kelly Manor, the past two nights. And her familiar
classic red convertible, often seen parked out front of Kelly Tower - the home
of titanic family biz the Kelly Investment Group - is nowhere to be seen.
Where has Brisbane’s favourite daughter disappeared to?
Could she be – gasp! – in hiding, nursing a new nose job? Has the nicest girl
in town finally shown a kink in her squeaky clean armour by - eek! – blowing
off her host? Is her vanishing act a sign that her Herculean father is not as
recovered from recent heart problems as the family would have us believe?
Or
– bless her little heart – has she run off with studly Texan oil baron seen
visiting the family manor last week? Oh please let that be it! Can we
possibly hope this means the last of the Kelly kids has finally found true
love at last?
Take our online poll for a chance to win a copy of bestseller “Long Live the
King. An Unauthorized Biography of Quinn Kelly”!
* * *
‘Of all the resorts in all the world,’ Zach Jones muttered to his frowning
reflection, ‘why did she have to walk into mine?’
Zach stood in the shadows of a lush potted palm in a dark corner of the
Waratah House lobby, narrowed eyes locked on the figure skipping down the wide
stone steps leading away from the main building of the Juniper Falls
Rainforest Retreat.
There weren’t many reasons why his resort staff would contact him directly,
ever, his reputation being that he was akin to a bear with a sore tooth at
the best of times. That’s as kind a character reference he could have hoped
for, considering his years of unequivocal lack of cooperation with the press.
Despite all that, the rumoured arrival of the woman currently whipping off her
cap and trying and failing to tuck her mass of dark curls beneath it, had been
deemed important enough to give the bear a nudge.
The bear was thankful they had.
After his daily run, he’d lain in wait for her to show her face. In the end
he’d missed out on that privilege. She’d scooted through the lobby, head
tipped down. Nevertheless, he’d recognised her in an instant. There wouldn’t
be many a red-blooded man in this corner of the world who would not.
Even dressed down in shorts, tank top, sneakers, and cap rather than her usual
society princess razzmatazz of designer frocks and diamonds, there was no
mistaking her. Not with those sexy dark curls, that hourglass silhouette in
miniature, the kind Zach couldn’t help imagining just begged for fifties style
dresses and high-heels to make the most of it, and the ridiculously confident,
rock and roll sway of those infamous hips.
Who knew such a woman could bring on such a headache in such a short amount of
time? In the end it wasn’t just any woman. The woman who’d zoomed up to the
front gates of the resort earlier that week in a growling red convertible
filled with designer luggage and equally designer friends was none other than
the society princess herself, Meg Kelly.
‘Dammit,’ he said loud enough a group of guests heading out the doors gave him
a sideways glance. He slid deeper into the shadows, a place he’d always found
far more comfortable than being under any kind of spotlight.
Much less the kind of spotlight Meg Kelly seemed to carry on her person such
was her magnetism for the kind of rabid media attention usually reserved for
royalty and rock stars. That kind of attention made her exactly the kind of
guest most resort owners would give their right arm for.
Not him. Not now.
She disappeared a moment behind a fat spray of red Waratah flowers and he felt
himself leaning to catch her coming out the other side. He rocked himself
back upright and planted his feet into the marble floor.
She popped out eventually only to bend from the waist to tug at the heel of
what appeared to be brand new sneakers, her shorts curving tight over her
backside, her thigh muscles tightening, her calf muscles lengthening.
He glanced away but not soon enough to stop the quickening in his blood. He
ran a hand over his mouth, his palm rasping from the effects of three days
worth of stubble growth, and told himself it was the after effects of his run.
He glanced back out the window only to have his gaze catch on the sliver of
pale, soft skin that peeked between the back of her shorts and her top... Was
that a tattoo?
His eyes flicked to the heavens and drew in a deep breath through his nose,
attempting to temper the swift kick of attraction.
Not her. And most certainly not now.
The little known truth that he’d stayed put in the one place for the past few
months would be enticing news for the kind of gossip hungry media for whom Meg
Kelly was the poster girl.
As far as he was concerned they could all go jump. Not since he’d jumped off
the merry go round of foster homes and orphanages he’d grown up in had he let
anybody tell him who he was, who he was not, how low he might fall, or how
high he dared reach. His successes and mistakes were only his own to judge.
And of all the successes and mistakes he’d ever accomplished in his life the
reason why he was now stuck in the middle of nowhere was the most
inviolable yet.
In fact, he’d missed a call from his ‘reason why’ already that morning, and
now she wasn’t answering the mobile he’d bought her specifically so they could
always be in touch.
Then his man on the ground in St Barts had left a message saying the
government were playing hard ball on singing off on the final inspections of
his latest resort site. All that before the day had even officially begun.
He didn’t see how this week could get any worse.
v
From "Millionaire Dad's SOS"
by Ally Blake
Harlequin Romance April 2010
ISBN:
978-0-263-87662-8 Copyright: © 2009
Ally Blake
® and ™ are trademarks
of the publisher. The edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books
S.A. For more romance information surf to: http://www.eHarlequin.com
