An Unlikely Bride for the Billionaire (3 page)

Finally she placed her arms beneath him with a cheery, ‘Up we come, Charlie.'

The emu gave a kind of strangled
beep
before a stream of something green and vicious-looking shot out of the back of him, splattering all over the front of Mia's shirt. Only then did the bird struggle fully to its feet and race off towards a water trough. Mia stumbled backwards, a comical look of surprise on her face. She turned towards Dylan, utterly crestfallen and...and covered in bird poop.

Dylan clapped a hand over his mouth to hold back a shout of laughter.
Don't laugh
! An awful lot of women he knew would have simply burst into tears. If he laughed and then she cried he'd have to comfort her...and then he'd end up with bird poop all over
him
too.

Mia didn't cry. She pushed her shoulders back and squelched back over to the gate in the fence with as much dignity as she could muster. Still, even
she
had to find it difficult to maintain a sense of dignity when she was covered in bird poop.

She lifted her chin, as if reading that thought in his face. ‘As you can see, Charlie left me a little present for my pains.'

He swallowed, schooling his features. ‘You did a very good deed, Mia.'

‘The thing is, when an emu gets stressed, the stress can result in...' she glanced down at herself, her nose wrinkling ‘...diarrhoea.'

‘God, I'm
so
glad those birds can't fly!'

The heartfelt words shot out of him, and Mia's lips started to twitch as if the funny side of the situation had finally hit her.

Dylan couldn't hold back his laughter any longer. ‘I'm sorry, Mia. You deserve better, but the look on your face when it happened... It was priceless!'

She grinned, tentatively touching the front of her shirt. ‘That rotten bird! Here I am, supposedly trying to impress you and your sister with our marvellous facilities...and now you're going to live in fear of projectile diarrhoea from the native animals!'

The sudden image that came to his mind made him roar until he was doubled over. Mia threw her head back and laughed right alongside him. She laughed with an uninhibited gusto that transformed her completely. He'd glimpsed the mischievous imp earlier, but now she seemed to come alive—as if her mirth had broken some dam wall—as if she were a desert suddenly blooming with wildflowers.

Dylan's heart surged against his ribs and for a moment all he could do was stare. ‘You should do that more often, you know. Laugh. You're beautiful when you laugh.'

She glanced up at him, the laughter dying on her lips. Something in the air shimmered between them, making them both blink. Her gaze lowered momentarily to his lips, before she turned beetroot-red. Swinging away, she stumbled across to the tap that stood by the gate in the fence.

Heat pulsed through him. So...the serious Mia wasn't immune to his charms after all?

The next moment he silently swore.
Damn!
He deserved a giant kick to the seat of his pants. She'd accused him of flirting earlier—but he hadn't meant to give her the wrong impression. He didn't want her thinking anything could happen between them. All flirtation and teasing on his part was entirely without intent.

She knelt at the tap and scrubbed at her shirt with a piece of rag. She must keep a veritable tool shed of handiness in those cargo pants of hers.

He watched in silence as she washed the worst of the mess from her shirt. ‘I have a handkerchief if you need it.'

‘Thank you, but I think this is the best I'm going to manage until I can change my shirt. Shall we continue on to the lily pond?'

‘Yes, please.'

She gestured towards the path. ‘Do you mind if I ring the office to give them an update on Charlie?'

‘Not at all.'

And just like that they withdrew back into reserved professionalism. But something new pounded through Dylan—a curiosity that hadn't been there before. What an intriguing paradox Mia was proving to be...a fascinating enigma.

Which you don't have time for.

With a sigh, he pushed thoughts of Mia from his mind and forced his attention back to the impending wedding. He had to focus on what really mattered. He couldn't let Carla down—not when she needed him.

CHAPTER TWO

T
HEY
REACHED
THE
lily pond two minutes later. The moment Dylan clapped eyes on the enchanting glade he understood why Carla had fallen in love with it. True to its name, large green lily pads decorated a small but picturesque body of oval water. Native trees and shrubs curved around three of its sides. The fourth side opened out to a large circle of green lawn.

Mia pointed to that now. ‘This area is large enough for our medium-sized marquee, which holds sixty guests comfortably. That leaves the area behind for the caterers to set up their tents and vans for the food.'

Carla chose that moment to come rushing up—which was just as well, as Dylan had found himself suddenly in danger of getting caught up on the way Mia's wet shirt clung to her chest.

Carla grinned at Mia—‘Surprise!'—before taking Dylan's arm and jumping from one foot to the other. ‘Isn't this just the most perfect spot?'

He glanced down at her—at her smile made radiant with her newfound happiness. ‘It's lovely,' he agreed, resolve solidifying in his gut. This wedding had come out of left field, taking him completely by surprise. But if this was what Carla truly wanted, he meant to create the perfect wedding for her. ‘Where's Thierry?'

A cloud passed across her face. ‘Something's come up. He can't make it.'

That
was the problem. Thierry. Dylan didn't like the man.

His sister had suffered enough misery in her life, and Dylan had every intention of protecting her from further heartache.

Carla moved towards Mia. ‘Please tell me you're not cross with me.'

‘So...you're not really Carly Smith, frequent visitor and keen student of environmentalism?'

Carla shook her head.

Mia glanced down at her notepad. ‘With your background, I imagine you need to be careful with your privacy.'

Carla winced. ‘Please tell me you don't hate me. You've been so kind. I love shadowing you when you're on duty for the wildlife displays. You never talk down to me or treat me like I'm stupid. Oh!' she added in a rush. ‘And just so you know, I really
do
have a keen interest in the environment and conservation.'

Mia smiled. ‘Of course I don't hate you.'

That smile made Dylan's skin tighten. When she smiled she wasn't plain. And when she laughed she was beautiful.

He pushed those thoughts away. They had no bearing on anything. Her smile told him what he needed to know—Mia genuinely liked his sister.
That
was what mattered.

‘Right.' Mia consulted her notepad. ‘I want to hear every tiny detail you have planned for this wedding.'

‘Hasn't Dylan told you
anything
?'

Mia glanced at him. ‘We didn't want to start without you.'

That was unexpectedly diplomatic.

He stood back while the pair started discussing wedding preparations, jumping from one topic to the next as if it made utterly logical sense to do so. He watched them and then shook his head. Had he really thought Carla needed exuberance from Mia? Thank heaven Mia had seen the wisdom in not trying to fake it. He silently blessed her tact in not asking where Mia's maid of honour or bridesmaids or any female relative might be too.

Carla didn't have anyone but him.

And now Thierry.

And Mia in the short term.

He crossed his fingers and prayed that Thierry would finally give Carla all that she needed...and all that she deserved.

* * *

Mia spent two hours with Carla and Dylan, though Dylan rarely spoke now Carla was there. She told herself she was glad. She told herself that she didn't miss his teasing.

Except she did. A little.

Which told her that the way she'd chosen to live her life had a few flaws in it.

Still, even if he had wanted to speak it would have been difficult for him to get a word in, with Carla jumping from topic to topic in a fever of enthusiasm.

She was so different from Carly Smith, the wide-eyed visitor to the park that Mia had taken under her wing. She took in the heightened colour in Carla's cheeks, the way her eyes glittered, how she could barely keep still, and nodded. Love was
exactly
like that and Mia wanted no part of it
ever again
.

Carla spoke at a hundred miles an hour. She cooed about the colour scheme she wanted—pink, of course—and the table decorations she'd seen in a magazine, as well as the cake she'd fallen in love with. She rattled off guest numbers and seating arrangements in one breath and told her about the world-class photographer she was hoping to book in the next. Oh, and then there was the string quartet that was apparently
‘divine'
.

She bounced from favours and bouquets to napkins and place settings along with a million other things that Mia hastily jotted down, but the one thing she didn't mention was the bridal party. At one point Mia opened her mouth to ask, but behind his sister's back Dylan surreptitiously shook his head and Mia closed it again.

Maybe Carla hadn't decided on her attendants yet. Mia suspected that the politics surrounding bridesmaid hierarchy could be fraught. Especially for a big society wedding.

Only it wasn't going to be big. It was going to be a very select and exclusive group of fifty guests. Which might mean that Carla didn't want a large bridal party.

Every now and again, though, Carla would falter. She'd glance at her brother and without fail Dylan would step in and smooth whatever wrinkle had brought Carla up short, and then off she would go again.

Beneath Carla's manic excitement Mia sensed a lurking vulnerability, and she couldn't prevent a sense of protectiveness from welling through her. She'd warmed to Carly—Carla—the moment she'd met her. For all her natural warmth and enthusiasm she had seemed a little lost, and it had soothed something inside Mia to chat to her about the programmes Plum Pines ran, to talk to her about the animals and their daily routines.

As a rule, Mia did her best
not
to warm towards people. She did her best not to let them warm towards her either. But to remain coolly professional and aloof with Carla—the way she'd tried to be with Dylan—somehow seemed akin to kicking a puppy.

While many of her work colleagues thought her a cold and unfeeling witch, Mia
didn't
kick puppies. She didn't kick anyone. Except herself—mentally—on a regular basis.

‘Can I come back with Thierry tomorrow and go over all this again?'

Why hadn't the groom-to-be been here
today
?

‘Yes, of course.'

Hopefully tomorrow Nora would be back to take over and Mia would be safely ensconced on the reserve's eastern boundary, communing with weeds.

Carla glanced at her watch. ‘I promised Thierry I'd meet him for lunch. I have to run.' She turned to her brother. ‘Dylan...?' Her voice held a note of warning.

He raised his hands, palms outwards. ‘I'll sort everything—I promise. Mia and I will go back to the office and thrash it all out.'

Mia's chest clenched. Thrash what out? She didn't have the authority to thrash
anything
out.

She must have looked crestfallen, because Dylan laughed. ‘Buck up, Mia. It'll be fun.' He waggled his eyebrows.

Mia rolled her eyes, but she couldn't crush the anticipation that flitted through her.

‘I'll buy you a cup of coffee and a blueberry muffin.'

His grin could melt an ice queen.

Lucky, then, that she was made of sterner stuff than ice.

‘You'll do no such thing.' She stowed her notepad in her back pocket as they headed back towards the main concourse. ‘Gordon Coulter would be scandalised. All refreshments will be courtesy of Plum Pines.'

During the last two hours they'd moved from the lily pond back to the office, to pore over brochures, and then outside again to a vacant picnic table, where Carla had declared she wanted to drink in the serenity. Now, with many grateful thanks, Carla moved towards the car park while Mia led Dylan to the Pine Plum's café.

He grinned at the cashier, and Mia didn't blame the woman for blinking as if she'd been temporarily blinded.

‘We'll have two large cappuccinos and two of those.' He pointed at the cupcakes sitting beneath a large glass dome before Mia had a chance to speak.

‘You mean to eat two cupcakes and drink two mugs of coffee?' She tried to keep the acerbity out of her voice.

‘No.' He spoke slowly as if to a child. ‘One coffee and one cake are yours.'

Mia glanced at the cashier. ‘Make that one large cappuccino, one pot of tea and
one
cupcake, thank you. It's to go on Nora's events account.'

Without further ado she led him to a table with an outlook over the duck pond.

‘You're not hungry?' he asked.

She was ravenous, but she'd brought her lunch to work, expecting to be stranded on the eastern boundary, and she hated waste. ‘I'm not hungry,' she said. It was easier than explaining that in Gordon Coulter's eyes the events account didn't extend to buying her any food. ‘Besides, I don't have much of a sweet tooth.'

She frowned, unsure why she'd added that last bit.

For a moment he looked as if he were waging an internal battle with himself, but then he folded his arms on the table and leaned towards her, his eyes dancing. ‘Are you telling me, Mia...?'

She swallowed at the way he crooned her name, as if it were the sweetest of sweet things.

‘...that you don't like cake?'

He said it with wide eyes, as if the very idea was scandalous. He was teasing her again. She resisted the almost alien urge to tease him back.

‘I didn't say I didn't like it. It's just not something I ever find myself craving.'

His mouth kinked at one corner. Mia did her best to look away.

‘Now I have to discover what it is you
do
crave.'

How could he make that sound so suggestive?

‘Cheesecake? Ice cream?'

She narrowed her eyes. ‘Why do I get the feeling you're trying to find something to use as a bribe?'

‘Chocolate?'

Oh. He had her there. ‘Chocolate is in a class of its own.'

He laughed, and something inside her shifted.
No shifting!
She had to remain on her guard around this man. He'd called her beautiful and something in her world had tilted. She had no intention of letting that happen again.

‘You made my sister very happy today. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.'

It was the last thing she'd expected him to say. ‘I... I was just doing my job.'

‘It was more than that, and we both know it.'

She didn't want it to be more. This was just a job like any other. ‘Naturally Carla is excited. I enjoyed discussing her plans with her.'

To her surprise, she realised she was speaking nothing less than the truth.

Their order was set in front of them. When the waitress left Dylan broke off a piece of cupcake, generously topped with frosting, and held it out to her. ‘Would you like a taste?'

Unbidden, hunger roared through her. For the briefest of moments she was tempted to open her mouth and let him feed her the morsel. Her throat dried and her stomach churned. On the table, her hands clenched to fists.

She choked out a, ‘No, thank you,' before busying herself with her tea.

Why now
? Why should a man have such an effect on her
now
? In the last ten months she'd been asked out on dates...the occasional volunteer had tried to flirt with her...but nothing had pierced her armour.

None of them looked like Dylan Fairweather
.

True. But was she really so shallow that someone's looks could have such an impact?

When she glanced back up she saw Gordon Coulter, glaring at her from the café's doorway. Had he seen Dylan offer her the bite of cake?
Great. Just great.

She shuffled her mantel of professionalism back around her. ‘Now, you better tell me what it is you promised Carla you'd sort out. It sounded ominous.'

He popped the piece of cake into his mouth and closed his eyes in bliss as he chewed. ‘You have no idea what you're missing.'

And she needed to keep it that way.

She tried to stop her gaze lingering on his mouth.

His eyes sprang open, alive with mischief. ‘I bet you love honey sandwiches made with the softest of fresh white bread.'

She had to bite her inner lip to stop herself from laughing. ‘Honey makes my teeth ache.'

The man was irrepressible, and it occurred to her that it wasn't his startling looks that spoke to her but his childish sense of fun.

‘Ha! But I nearly succeeded in making you laugh again.'

She didn't laugh, but she did smile. It was impossible not to.

Mia didn't do fun. Maybe that was a mistake too. Maybe she needed to let a little fun into her life and then someone like Dylan wouldn't rock her foundations so roundly.

He made as if to punch the air in victory. ‘You should do that more often. It's not good for you to be so serious all the time.'

His words made her pull back. She knew he was only teasing, but he had no idea what was good for her.

She pulled her notepad from her pocket and flipped it open to a new page. ‘Will you
please
tell me what it is you promised Carla you'd take care of?'

He surveyed her as he took a huge bite of cake. She tried not to fidget under that oddly penetrating gaze.

‘Don't you ever let your hair down just a little?'

‘This is my job. And this—' she gestured around ‘—is my place of employment. I have a responsibility to my employer to not “let my hair down” on the job.' She tapped her pen against the notepad. ‘I think it's probably worth mentioning that you aren't my employer's only wedding account either.'