Naughty Nights in the Millionaire's Mansion. Robyn Grady

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СКАЧАТЬ a little friend would help. Then I got to thinking. My darling Sheba passed away six months ago.’

      The calculation wasn’t difficult. ‘That’s only two puppies.’

      ‘Two each makes four,’ Mrs Stuart corrected. ‘It’s nice for them to have company. Cynthia and an older sister live in the cottage on the adjoining lot, so it’d be a real little family.’

      Vanessa’s heart warmed. She would’ve loved to have had a brother or sister growing up… Christmases, birthdays, boisterous family Sunday dinners. Maybe one day—if she was lucky.

      ‘I’ve made a couple of phone calls,’ she said, happy to proceed. Dogs were great company at any time, particularly when someone needed a friend who didn’t judge and always listened. And more than instinct said any puppy sold to these women would certainly be cared for. ‘A litter sired by a world champion should be available this week. Is that too soon?’

      Mrs Stuart squeezed her daughter’s free hand. ‘I should think the sooner the better.’ The older woman’s gaze drifted to the left and her face lit up. ‘Mitch, darling. Your friend’s arrived.’

      Vanessa’s blood pressure dropped and the room tilted forty-five degrees.

      Good Lord, she hadn’t known he’d be here.

      She wheeled around to see Mitch Stuart sauntering into the room. His languid yet purposeful gait was that of a man effortlessly in charge. His smile was just as sexy, even if the slant of his lips was a little contrite. Vanessa’s stomach muscles tugged. She wanted to run—from this house or straight into those strong arms? She wasn’t certain which.

      Warning herself not to, Vanessa nonetheless breathed in the subtle male scent as he stopped beside her. He was taller than she remembered, his shoulders in that crisp white Oxford shirt, sleeves rolled below the elbows, seemed far broader. His eyes were so blue and filled with light, she imagined she saw herself in their reflection.

      He spoke to his mother but kept his eyes on their guest. ‘Miss Craig and I are acquaintances, Mother.’

      ‘Then your acquaintance is helping us no end,’ Mrs Stuart replied. ‘Vanessa thinks we can have our puppies by the end of the week.’

      His chest inflated as that smile grew and simmered in his eyes. ‘That’s great news.’

      Vanessa wondered…

      He’d ripped up her business card, had kissed her passionately, then as good as admitted he didn’t want to get involved, which was far nobler than stringing her along. Was this meeting about salving his conscience as much as helping his mother and sister? If that were the case, she would be wise to accept his peace offering graciously. Aunt McKenzie had often warned against false pride.

      She’d be grateful but, foremost, businesslike.

      Vanessa allowed a crisp smile. ‘Thanks for the referral.’

      ‘Least I could do.’

      Had he stepped closer or was it that seductive rich tone pulling at her again?

      Determined to ignore the rapid heartbeat thudding in her ears, Vanessa tucked in her chin. She needed to move this along. They’d already established that, whatever it was bubbling between herself and Mitch Stuart, it was going nowhere fast.

      She faced Mrs Stuart. ‘Would you mind if I had a look at the dogs’ accommodation?’

      She’d like to pass on any positive information to the breeders. Plus her enquiry would get her out of the room and away from the temptation of Mitch Stuart’s hypnotic presence. She was human, after all.

      Preoccupied, Cynthia sniffed, dropped the handkerchief to her lap and shuddered. Her mother clucked comfortingly and looked to her son. ‘Mitch, can you show Vanessa Sheba’s housing for me?’

      Vanessa felt her eyes widen. She hadn’t meant for Mitch to take her on a tour. She should’ve kept quiet.

      Of course, he could always decline.

      But his smile was dazzling. ‘My pleasure. Follow me.’ He tipped his head towards the ornate arch through which he’d entered the room.

      Vanessa found her calm centre and braced herself. She could handle this. She was a mature, intelligent woman with a goal. She could spend a few moments alone with Mitch Man-god Stuart. She was hardly in danger of him kissing her again, particularly here, in his mother’s home. They’d established he didn’t want to get involved—they weren’t ‘compatible’.

      It was her imagination, then, that something almost predatory gleaming in his eyes whispered otherwise.

      He matched his stride with hers and they passed a sitting room, what looked like a study, then a massive library, boasting book spines to the ceiling. The very walls seemed to breathe an extended family history of privilege.

      He swung a left. Given the increasingly delicious aroma, she guessed they were approaching the kitchen.

      He surprised her with his question. ‘How did your bank meeting go today?’

      She took a moment to find a casual tone. ‘No need to try to make conversation, Mr Stuart.’

      ‘No good, huh?’

      She pressed her lips together and looked straight ahead.

      ‘I’d like to help.’

      She sent him a questioning look. ‘By sending more business my way?’

      Did he have a swag of friends after companions? Not that that would be a long-term solution.

      ‘I was thinking more along the lines of a loan.’

      Vanessa stopped dead and measured the earnest expression in his eyes. Well, that was out of the blue. Just what was behind that offer? Surely he wasn’t in the habit of gifting money to women he barely knew. Just what did he expect in exchange?

      She set off walking again and they entered a huge kitchen. ‘Thanks, but I don’t take money from strangers.’

      ‘Acquaintance, remember? And I run an investment and lending organisation. Helping with finance is what I do.’

      She digested the information and slid him a jaded smile. ‘You’ve suddenly decided to throw me a line?’ Odd that he’d neglected to mention his profession last night, and he’d certainly had the ideal opportunity.

      ‘We’d known each other five minutes. I’ve had time to think it over.’

      ‘Think over being charitable or kissing me and wishing you hadn’t?’

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