The Billionaire's Bride of Convenience(25)
‘No,’ he returned slowly. ‘No, I don’t. But having an excess of money is not all it’s cracked up to be. It doesn’t solve all of life’s problems. It creates problems of its own.’
‘My heart bleeds for you.’
He laughed. ‘My, but you’re a sarcastic cow.’
‘Yes, I know. It’s one of my failings.’
‘And the others are?’
‘Being bossy and controlling. And wanting everything to be super-organised. I can’t stand untidiness or a lack of planning.’
He laughed again. ‘Tell me about it.’
‘I’ve tried to. On many occasions.’
‘With some success.’
‘Oh, come, now,’ she said drily. ‘I have noticed a small improvement this past week. But, generally speaking, you’re totally irresponsible and unreliable.’
‘Really? That’s good, then. There’s nothing more boring than people who are responsible and reliable.’
‘Are you saying I’m boring?’
‘Not today you’re not,’ he countered with a breezy smile. ‘You’re here with me, aren’t you? Playing hooky from work, and laughing and looking quite deliciously happy, if I may be so presumptuous to say so, Kat, darling.’
She sucked a breath in sharply. ‘Don’t call me that!’
His head turned her way and their eyes met. ‘Don’t be silly,’ he said, his eyes caressing hers in the most incredibly seductive fashion. ‘Kat suits you admirably. Or was it the ‘darling’ that offended you? Yes, of course it was,’ he added before returning his eyes to the road. ‘Sorry. I don’t mean anything by it. I call all my women friends darling.’
‘But I’m not your woman friend,’ she protested, her face feeling hot all of a sudden. ‘I’m your PA!’
‘And soon-to-be wife.’
‘Not a real wife.’
‘I suppose not. But that doesn’t stop us being friends, does it? I feel more like a friend to you today than a boss. And I never call my friends by their full names. So from now on, I’m going to call you Kat whether you like it or not.’
‘You really are impossible!’
‘So I’ve been told on many occasions. Now, where are we exactly? You might have made this trip a thousand times, but I haven’t been up this way for yonks and I haven’t been concentrating. I know we passed over the Hawkesbury River a little while back. How long before I get off the freeway?’
‘Not for another ten minutes or so. We have to go over the Mooney Mooney bridge first. Then you take the Gosford exit. After that, I’ll tell you where to go.’
He glanced over at her and grinned. ‘I’ll bet you will.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
PEARL BEACH was extremely pretty but rather remote, surrounded by bushland and with only one road leading into it. There were more houses than Hugh had anticipated; most were within walking distance of the beach and lots more were built on the side of a hill which faced north and provided splendid views of the ocean and the village below.
The wonder house sat at the northern end of the beach, on flat land, the front facing away from the sea, the back garden less than twenty metres from the sand.
Kathryn hadn’t exaggerated when she’d said it was an ordinary little house. It certainly was. But the simple weatherboard façade had charm, with symmetrically placed windows on either side of a sweet front door—painted a bright blue—and a wide, wrap-around verandah which had an assortment of battered seating that obviously wasn’t considered good enough to steal. There was no garden to speak of, just the odd bush or two, and a lawn which had given up the ghost years before, perhaps because the ground was mostly sand.
After a very brief trip to the bathroom, Hugh declined a more extensive tour inside in favour of sitting down on the back verandah in an ancient cane chair and tucking into his hamburger; its mouth-watering smell had been tantalising him since their stop in Woy Woy, a short time earlier.
‘This is the best burger I’ve ever had,’ Hugh said in muffled tones as he munched in.
‘Watch that the beetroot doesn’t drip on your trousers,’ Kathryn advised sharply.
He quickly parted his legs to avoid just that, then glanced over at where she was standing on the verandah, looking out at the water. ‘Aren’t you hungry?’ he asked between swallows.