Holiday With The Millionaire. Scarlet Wilson

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      ‘Caleb and I went to school together.’

      ‘Really? What school?’

      He cringed. He knew exactly what came next. ‘Eton.’

      Her mouth fell open. ‘Eton?’ He should feel insulted. The surprise wasn’t because Caleb had gone to Eton, the surprise was definitely directed at him.

      He shrugged his shoulders. ‘What can I say? I was a posh boy.’

      The colour was starting to die down in her cheeks. It was obvious she was curious. ‘It’s a long way from Ireland,’ she said. It was a natural thing to say but he barely blinked.

      ‘Yes, it is.’ It was almost as if he were drawing a line in the sand.

      She put her elbows on the worktop and leaned towards him. ‘You said you just got back from the US on business. What is it that you do?’

      ‘A bit of this, a bit of that.’

      She waggled her finger at him. ‘Oh, no. Don’t give me that. What is your job title exactly?’

      ‘I’m a businessman.’

      She waved her hands. ‘And so says the entire population of London.’

      ‘I’m a sports agent.’ He said quickly, in the hope it would stop her asking questions.

      Her eyes widened. ‘You mean you’re Jerry Maguire?’

      He shook his head. ‘If I had a pound for every time I’ve heard that...’

      She perched back up on the stool. ‘I like movies but I’m not what you’d call a sports fan. Well, truth be told, I hate sport, but will I know anyone you manage?’

      He shrugged. ‘If you hate sport, probably not. A few footballers, a few cricketers. One tennis player. Also some basketball and baseball players. A few big-name American footballers.’

      She gave him a curious stare. ‘So that’s why you jet around?’

      He paused for a second. ‘Most of the time. I have clients in the US, Italy, Spain and England right now. And I’m always looking for the next big signing. Things get a bit crazy at times. It’s a mad world out there and sometimes the whole business of a team is based on who they sign—and more importantly how that person behaves. One stupid interview comment can make a team’s shares plummet. I sometimes have to do some troubleshooting or some collateral damage limitation. That can take me pretty much anywhere. The US this week, Spain last week. For the next two weeks I’m in London.’

      ‘Lucky me,’ she said quickly. He sucked in a breath. For a second he wasn’t sure if it had been sarcasm or wit, but then the edges of her mouth turned upwards.

      She leaned her head on one of her hands. ‘So, if you and Caleb are such lifelong friends, how come you haven’t been to see him once in all the time I’ve worked here?’

      He paused to swallow the last of his coffee. ‘While it’s true that Caleb and I go way back, it’s not the same with Addison. Though she’s far too polite to come out and say it, I have a strong suspicion that she might not like me very much.’

      Lara frowned. Sure, Reuben was annoying, verging on arrogant, but what possible reason did Addison have to actively dislike the man enough to discourage his presence in her home? Should she be worried?

      ‘Why do you think it is exactly that Addison doesn’t like you?’ She strove to keep her tone neutral and the wobble out of her voice.

      He took a few seconds before he answered. ‘Let’s just say I knew Caleb when we were relatively young guys—long before Addison came on the scene—and we might have been involved in a few...’ he paused to think of the right word ‘...boisterous activities.’

      ‘Boisterous activities? That’s it? That’s all you’re giving me?’

      He nodded. ‘I think that would be best.’

      She folded her arms across her chest and looked through the kitchen window into the darkness. ‘Looks like a long, rainy night out there to me...’ She let her voice drift off.

      ‘You’ve got to be joking? You’d actually ask me to leave?’

      She started walking around the kitchen. ‘Absolutely. And just think, there’s a lovely king-sized bed up there, with fresh, clean sheets just waiting for you to jump in and ease your tired bones.’ She folded her arms around herself and rubbed her hands up and down them. She knew exactly how to play him.

      He sat down his coffee cup. ‘You’re a manipulator.’

      ‘And you could be a murderer, a drug dealer or...’ she scrunched up her nose ‘...even worse, a wannabe.’

      ‘A what?’ He couldn’t hide the surprise in his voice. ‘What are you talking about?’

      She waved her hand. ‘You tell me you’re a sports agent, then you tell me you have to sort out badly behaved sports stars. You might just want to hang around them. You might even bring random dubious sport stars back to this place. They could wreck it.’

      He shook his head. ‘You honestly think I want to hang around these guys? Some of them are worse behaved than two-year-olds.’

      She folded her arms across her chest again. ‘Then give me a straight answer. Explain your “boisterous activities”.’

      Boy. She was good. He’d practically walked right into that one.

      He stood up, put both hands at his waist and arched his aching back. ‘Fine. We did some cliff-jumping, some free running. There might have been a little police involvement back in the day. Then there was the usual girl stuff. That’s probably why Addison doesn’t like me. She probably thinks of me as a bad influence or something.’

      Lara leaned against one of the white cupboards. ‘Why? Because you encouraged her husband to take part in extreme sports, or because of the girl stuff?’

      He ran his fingers through his hair. Jet-lag was definitely hitting right now. ‘Truth? Probably a bit of both. But, remember, this was all before her time.’ It wasn’t exactly the truth. But that was as much as he was willing to say.

      Lara gave a nod. She’d finished cleaning the kitchen and it was back to its original sparkling white show-home-kitchen appearance. The kind of kitchen that looked as if people didn’t actually live in the house. ‘Well, that’s okay, then.’

      She was still watching him with those wary blue eyes. He was trying not to think about the idiot who’d cheated on her and was obviously short of a few brain cells.

      ‘I’ve got an idea,’ he said, as he walked back through to the sitting room and picked up her half-empty bottle of wine and glass. ‘Let’s have a toast.’

      ‘A toast to what?’ She looked completely bewildered.

      ‘A toast to the fact we’ll need to share this house for the next two weeks.’

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