Tycoon's Terms of Engagement

He felt his stomach drop as he said it. But it was the truth and it was a good thing. This was only a fling. A distraction.

He’d expected her to withdraw more from him because he’d spoken so bluntly, but now she rolled to face him.

Even though she’d stopped biting her nail, she looked even more worried. ‘There’s something you should know.’

His heart thudded, striking an uncomfortably fast beat. She wanted to tell him something important. And he wanted to hear it too much.

From the look on her face it wasn’t something awesome.

‘I get a lot of help with the blog.’ She reached down and pulled the loose top sheet up around her.

He waited.

‘From my friends. I can’t get to all those places myself. They call it in for me. Email me recommendations. I always verify… always take the time to get a second opinion… but the truth is the lists aren’t all my own work. Not any more. And Tara with her make-up tips—that’s such a big part of it now…’ She drew in a sharp breath. ‘So, you see, I’m a fraud.’

This was what she’d been holding back from him? That was it? He tried to hide his smile. ‘You’re not a fraud.’

She had more integrity than most people—her ‘confession’ told him that.

‘I am,’ she argued. ‘“Steffi Leigh” doesn’t do everything on her blog. Not at all.’

‘Everybody has assistants. Even the most creative people get their ideas from seeing places, meeting people. I’d be more concerned if you didn’t outsource some of the work.’ He was amazed she’d thought this was a problem. ‘Steffi Leigh’ was more sweet than sharp. He brushed back her hair. ‘There’s nothing wrong with having help to get everything done.’

‘There is if you take advantage of the people helping.’ The shadows in her eyes deepened. ‘If you take too much.’

‘I don’t think a few café recommendations is asking too much from your friends,’ he teased. ‘Blogs are notoriously difficult to maintain over time. Even I know that.’

She gazed up at him and smiled slowly. ‘Even you, huh?’

‘Stay the night. I have to be back in Melbourne tomorrow, so I can drive us in the morning.’ He wanted her to stay with him right up ‘til the meeting. He needed her to. He needed the distraction or he was going to go insane.

Her smile faded. ‘Jack, I need to—’

‘Check in with Tara—I know.’ He cut her off before she could frame any reason to reject his request. ‘But stay.’

She was silent for so long, and it was killing him not to kiss her again. To tease her. But he couldn’t do that this time.

He used every ounce of his willpower to stay still when she reached out and placed her hand on his cheek in the gentlest caress.

‘I can’t say no to this,’ she whispered, her eyes so deep in colour. So tortured.

‘To this?’ he leaned closer.

‘To you…’ she breathed.

Thank goodness for that. With a groan he kissed her. He felt her immediate response. And he sank into it.

He wasn’t beside her. Again.

For a moment Stephanie lay there and let disappointment hit. Stupid to miss something she’d never known. But just once she’d wanted to wake with him beside her. And this was their last ever night.

She checked her phone—to find out the time and to make sure there was no further message from Tara.

It was just after two-thirty in the morning. Time to be sleeping—not up working or worrying. She suspected she knew which of the two he was doing.

They’d had a gorgeous evening. Another decadent meal had materialised while they’d bathed together in that magnificent bathtub. They’d eaten, laughed. Talked about all things random and ridiculous. He’d seemed to be determined that they have a good time. And they had.

But all the while the ache in her heart had been deepening and her conscience tightening.

She’d been going to tell him about Dan this afternoon on the daybed. Just after she’d told him about her help with the blog she’d been going to admit it all.

But he’d interrupted her. And then he’d looked so boyishly happy when she’d agreed to stay another night it had taken her by surprise. And flooded her with pleasure.

She hadn’t been able to bear to bring them both down.

Now she put the phone back on the small table beside the bed. It was almost out of battery and she didn’t have a charger. No doubt those discreet, supply-everything-you-could-ever-want hotel assistants could fetch one, but it wasn’t long until she’d be home again and this would be over and become nothing but memory.