Holiday with the Millionaire

He could feel adrenaline surging within him, closely followed by a red mist descending. Just like he had the night he’d punched out Caleb. Was it any wonder Addison didn’t like him? He flinched. He didn’t want to be that guy any more. He was trying not to be that guy any more.

He released his grip on the guy and looked at him in disgust. ‘You two deserve each other. Lara’s worth ten of you.’

He turned on his heel, ignoring the shouts that followed him. The guy made him mad. The girl made him mad. Their utter disrespect of Lara made him mad. How had she ended mixed up with these two?

He strode back to the car, jumped inside and slammed the door, not thinking for a second about what he was going to say to her.

Her eyes widened at the expression on his face and she stared at his empty hands. ‘Didn’t you get my stuff?’

It was the wide-eyed innocence that made his stomach curl in knots. On a few fleeting moments Lara had appeared quite street savvy, but right now? He felt as if he were just about to grab her heart between both hands and squeeze hard.

She’d already told him she’d saved hard for her dream holiday—and from what he’d seen he could take a guess that the guy upstairs hadn’t contributed at all. Just how much would it cost her to replace her entire summer holiday wardrobe?

‘I’m picking your stuff up later,’ he said quickly.

He turned the car onto the main road. ‘Now, let’s go and food shop.’

* * *

She wasn’t quite sure when the house burglar turned into her kind of guardian angel. All she knew was thirty minutes after telling her they’d pick up her clothes later he pulled his sleek car up outside one of the most famous department stores in London with its gold and green sign.

Reuben walked around and opened the door for her. Her head flicked from side to side. ‘You can’t leave your car here...’

Her voice trailed off as a uniformed man slid into the driver’s seat and the car mysteriously disappeared.

He smiled at the expression on her face and gestured towards the door. ‘Let’s hit the food court. We need to buy supplies.’

She watched the dark red car disappear around the corner, shaking her head as he slung his arm back around her shoulders and steered her towards the entrance. ‘I didn’t even know they did that,’ she murmured.

‘What can I say? I’ve friends in high places.’

What on earth did that mean? She looked down at her clothes. Jeans and a pink t-shirt. And come to think of it her boots could do with a polish. If she’d known they were shopping in style she might have dressed up a little.

They walked down the stairs to the food court. Even two steps down the aroma of everything expensive came up to meet them.

Reuben was smiling already, crossing over to the glass display cabinet of fine meats and truffles and foie gras.

‘What do you like?’ he asked.

She wrinkled her nose. ‘Chicken.’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘Chicken?’ You’d think she’d sworn out loud.

She nodded. ‘Chicken. I like chicken.’

She looked around at the massive department.

‘And raspberry jam. And freshly baked bread—maybe a croissant or two. And some more bacon and eggs.’

Her legs had started walking, following her nose as she glanced from side to side.

‘I love the chocolate digestives from here, and the rose and violet shortbread— Oh...’ She spun round and put her hand on his chest. ‘And those tiny dark chocolates filled with orange. Now, where on earth will they be?’

He put one hand on his hip as people filed past. ‘We’re in one of the finest food stores and you want bacon. And eggs. And raspberry jam.’ His chest was right in front of her nose and now every time she breathed in she didn’t get the wonderful food aromas around her, she just got Reuben Tyler. Every masculine, woody scent of him. If she could sell that aftershave she’d never have to work again.

She breathed in, trying not to look like a teenager. Her hand was still resting on his chest. Through his thin T-shirt she could feel the warmth of his skin and the roughened hairs underneath the palm of her hand. Her brain tried to make sense of things.

This time yesterday she hadn’t known this man. She hadn’t even known he existed.

‘Chicken.’ The word came out of nowhere. ‘You forgot the chicken.’

She tilted her head and smiled up at him. Her nose was directly across from his chest. Too close for comfort really. Especially now she could see the tiny shadow along his jaw line. Why did her hand want to reach up and touch it?

His arm folded around her waist and he pulled her closer and spun her around as a large group of tourists swept past. He was looking down at her with those deep brown eyes. It was almost as if he knew she was a little mesmerised. Truth was, he must be used to it.

‘Didn’t want you to get trampled.’ He laughed as his accent played havoc with her senses. ‘And chicken.’ He shook his head again. ‘Let’s not forget the chicken.’

He reached behind her, his chin brushing against her hair, and plucked a thin cylindrical box from a stand. ‘Your orange creams, I suppose?’

She closed her hands around the tube. ‘Perfect.’

He paused. It was almost as if something else flitted past his brain. He was leaning over her, seeing every part of her up close and personal. If he tilted his chin down just a touch...

She wished she’d put on more make-up—heavier foundation instead of her usual tinted moisturiser. Longer-lasting lipstick rather than her light lip tint.

She could almost feel herself disintegrate under his gaze. What did he see? And how did she compare to what he was used to?

She tried to squeeze that thought from her mind. Why should she care? She barely knew him. So what if he’d just gone out of his way to help her? The truth was he was still invading the space she’d thought she would have for the next two weeks. Her skin was prickling under his intense gaze. There was a whole wave of sensations sweeping across her. And she couldn’t fathom any one of them.

Reuben gave a little shake and stepped back. It was almost as if nothing had happened. He pulled up a trolley next to them and started loading up his selection from the counter. He pointed to item after item and she blinked at the price tags. Chicken stuffed with haggis and wrapped in bacon. Chicken with chorizo and a tomato sauce. Chicken with peppered sauce and mushrooms all packaged up before her eyes. If she hadn’t been hungry before she was definitely hungry now.

And it seemed once Reuben started to shop he could do it like a pro. Sirloin steaks—enough to last the fortnight. More pepper sauce. Salad. Fresh bread, pastries and croissants. Her raspberry jam. Bacon, eggs and sausages. A whole heap of vegetables. Biscuits, chocolates and a really, really good-looking fresh cream gateau.

Lara looked at the groaning trolley and nudged him.

‘What?’ he asked.

‘I don’t think people really do their weekly shop in here,’ she whispered, her eyes taking in the other customers, who had maybe one or two items in their hands. ‘At this rate we’ll need to remortgage Caleb’s house for the food bill.’

He looked surprised. ‘I’m covering the food bill. Don’t worry. You didn’t expect me there and I should contribute something.’

He made it all sound so reasonable, while her purse was currently screaming out in relief. There was no way she could pay half of a bill like this. ‘Fancy a bottle of wine?’ he asked, as they walked further along.

She glanced at the nearest shelf. Two hundred pounds a bottle. ‘Er...no, thanks.’

He moved the trolley forward then stopped again. ‘It was rosé you were drinking last night, wasn’t it?’

He put three bottles in the trolley before she had a chance to answer, then he picked a bottle of red and one

of white too. She could feel herself breaking out in a cold sweat at these prices. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t footing the bill.

She leaned forward and hissed in his ear, ‘Put those back. You can buy wine for less than ten pounds a bottle in the supermarket down the road.’

The corners of his lips turned up in amusement. He walked over to the nearest cash register and handed over his credit card without anything being run up. The cashier nodded, swiped it and handed it back, taking a note of the ticket for his car.

He slipped an arm around her back and led her to the stairs. Lara’s head was turned backwards, staring at the cashier. ‘Really? You don’t even put in your PIN?’

He shook his head. ‘I trust these people. By the time we want to leave the car will be loaded up and ready to go.’