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The Bridal Bargain
Emma Darcy
Dear Reader,
I have always been fascinated by the lives of pioneers—the men who were brave enough, strong enough, determined enough to take on a harsh, dangerous and alien land and forge a future for themselves and their families. To me such men are a very special breed.
Two years ago I wrote a trilogy about the KINGS OF THE OUTBACK from the Kimberly, a family who had become legendary in that vast expanse of Australia. Another part of Australia that tested the grit and endurance of pioneers is the tropical far north of Queensland. Instead of drought, they faced cyclones; instead of desert, almost impenetrable rain forest. Yet the land was cleared for profitable plantations—sugarcane, tea, tropical fruit.
I decided to marry one of the King men from the Kimberly to a remarkable Italian woman, Isabella Valeri, whose father had pioneered the far north. This trilogy is about their three grandsons—Alex, Tony and Matt, and the women they choose to partner them into their future.
These men are a very special breed. Nothing will stop them from winning what they want. I love reading about men like that. I hope you do, too.
With love
Award-winning Australian author Emma Darcy writes compelling, sexy, intensely emotional novels that have gripped the imagination of readers around the globe. She’s written an impressive eighty novels for Harlequin Presents
and sold nearly 60 million copies of her books worldwide.
We hope you enjoy Emma Darcy’s exciting new trilogy:
The King brothers must marry—can they claim the brides of their choice?
Alessandro, Antonio and Matteo are three gorgeous brothers and heirs to a plantation empire in the lush tropical north of Australia. Each must find a bride to continue the prestigious family line…but will they marry for duty, or love?
• THE ARRANGED MARRIAGE
• THE BRIDAL BARGAIN
• THE HONEYMOON CONTRACT
Don’t miss the KINGS OF AUSTRALIA!
The Bridal Bargain
Emma Darcy
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER ONE
JOB day!
Hannah O’Neill rolled out of her bunk in the youth hostel, collected the necessities and raced for the shower block, needing an early start this morning. She had to prime herself up for the interview which would win her the job she wanted. Of course, there were probably other jobs she could get, and certainly her financial situation demanded that she snag one this week, but chef on board a luxury catamaran doing day-trips to The Great Barrier Reef was definitely a plum position.
It was to be hoped that whoever was doing the hiring had been so impressed by her brilliant résumé of previous experience, they hadn’t checked every minute detail. Not that she’d actually lied. Kitchen hands did assist chefs so saying she’d been an assistant chef was a perfectly reasonable statement. And a take-away fish and fries shop was a seafood restaurant—more or less.
All she needed was the chance to talk her way into being given the opportunity to prove she was as good as her word. It was her one great talent—convincing people she could do anything. Lots of zippy energy and confidence—that was all it took. Plus being a nice person to have around; cheerful disposition, ample tolerance, ready smile, never too proud to appeal for help.
On her two-year journey of discovery around Australia, these well-developed qualities had won her work whenever she had needed to replenish her bank balance. There was only the east coast left to explore now. She’d come across The Top End to Cooktown and down the Bloomfield Track to Cape Tribulation. Next stop, Port Douglas, where she hoped to stay for the main tourist season—May to November—provided she got a job.
The job, if luck was with her.
As she showered and washed her hair, Hannah gave herself the pleasure of remembering the wonderful days she’d had here at Cape Tribulation; hiking through the fantastic Daintree Forest which was as primeval in its own way as the ancient Kimberley Outback, then the incredible contrast of Myall Beach, surely the most beautiful beach in the world with its brilliant white sand and turquoise water.
It was sad to be leaving, but needs must, she told herself. Her shoestring budget was running out of string. Besides, Port Douglas and The Great Barrier Reef would undoubtedly prove a great new adventure. And it was time to get in touch with her family again to let them know she was still alive. Not that they worried overmuch about her. All the O’Neills had been brought up to be resourceful. But it was always nice to call in and catch up on the family gossip.
It would be interesting to find out if the faithless Flynn was still happily married to her ex-best friend, for whom he’d virtually jilted Hannah at the altar. Two years on…the honeymoon period would definitely be over by now. Some darkly malevolent thoughts skated through Hannah’s mind. It was easy to say forgive and forget, move on. She’d certainly moved on, and on, and on, but forgiving and forgetting…not easy at all!
Nevertheless, today was a day for looking ahead and that was what she was going to do. The past was gone. No changing the Flynn-and-Jodie blot on the landscape of her life but it was a long way behind her now and she’d enjoyed a lot of bright and shiny days, weeks, months, since then. And if she got the job on Duchess, that would be as good as being a duchess.
Having towelled herself dry, she pulled on her clean jeans and the stretchy, no-wrinkle midriff top striped in green and blue and black and lipstick pink. It was a brilliant little top. Not only did it go with everything she carried with her, it showed off the great tan she’d acquired and picked up the green in her eyes.
Her long, crinkly blonde hair always took ages to dry, but the road trip to Port Douglas would probably consume the whole morning. She would have plenty of time to put it into a neat plait before the interview, which wasn’t until three o’clock this afternoon. Couldn’t have lots of hair flying around if she was to look like a professional chef.
Having checked that she’d packed everything into her bag, Hannah said goodbye to her fellow backpackers and headed off to The Boardwalk Café, needing to pick up some breakfast and hoping to beg a lift from someone going her way. One good thing about being on the tourist track. People were usually generous about giving help. It was fun chatting about where you’d been and what lay ahead.
Optimism put a happy smile on Hannah’s face. Today was going to be a great day. It was lucky she’d seen the job advertisement in the Cairns newspaper two weeks ago, lucky her résumé had won her an interview. If her luck held good—and why wouldn’t it?—by tonight she would be the new chef on the top cat of the Kingtripper line.
“The phone. It is Antonio. For you,” Rosita announced, carrying the cordless telephone to where Isabella Valeri King was enjoying morning tea by the fountain in the loggia.
Yesterday Isabella had celebrated her eightieth birthday. She did not feel eighty. Her hair was white, her skin more wrinkled than she cared to notice, but she could still sit with a straight back and her dark eyes missed very little of what was going on around her. Rosita, who had taken care of her needs for the past twenty years, had insisted she rest today, but Isabella’s mind never rested.
Antonio…her second eldest grandson, thirty-two years old and too footloose and fancy-free for Isabella’s liking. Something had to be done about that and soon. Time was the enemy as one got older. The young thought they had all the time in the world, but it wasn’t so. It had to be used wisely and well, not frittered away.
“Thank you, Rosita.” She smiled at her most trusted confidante and lifted the telephone to her ear. “What is the problem, Antonio?”
A call during the day invariably heralded a problem.
“Nonna, I need your help.”
“Of course.”
“I’m at Cape Tribulation. There’s a management hitch at the tea plantation here. I’ll have to fly down to the other plantation at Innisfail and fix things at that end. The problem is, I had today earmarked to interview three people who’ve applied for the job of chef on Duchess…”
Isabella’s interest was instantly sparked. “And you would like me to do that for you and select the best?”
A huge sigh of relief. “Can do? I’ll have them redirected from the office at the marina up to the castle for you.”
“It will fill in my day very nicely, Antonio.”
“Great! They’re all young women…”
Splendid, Isabella thought. Perhaps one might be a possible wife. Antonio would need someone who liked being on a boat.
“…and according to their résumés, which I’ll have brought up to you, they’ve had years of experience in the catering business. What I specifically need is a chef who can cook fish really well. That’s expected on Duchess. So make sure you question them on that, Nonna. Test them out.”
She smiled at his confidence in her ability to do so. And why shouldn’t he respect her judgement? She’d been supervising the catering for the weddings at the castle for many years and never had there been a complaint about the food served. Isabella had always insisted on the best and knew how to get it.
“You can safely leave this matter in my hands, Antonio. Go and sort out your management problem with a clear mind.”
“Thanks, Nonna. I’ll catch up with you this afternoon.”
“Hannah O’Neill?” Speculative interest in the receptionist’s eyes. “Lucky you’re early. Unfortunately, Mr King is tied up with other business so I’m to redirect you to King’s Castle where Mrs King will conduct the interview.”
“Fine!” Hannah flashed an agreeable smile. “If you’ll just point the way…”
Surprise in the receptionist’s eyes. “You don’t know King’s Castle?”
Was she supposed to know? “I only arrived in Port Douglas a couple of hours ago. Still getting my bearings,” Hannah quickly explained, throwing in an apologetic shrug. “Must say I headed straight for this marina. Great place…”
“Oh! Well, keep going along Wharf Street, on up the hill and you can’t miss it. You’ll see the visitors’ parking area. The steps there will lead you to…”
A real castle! Hannah could hardly believe her eyes as she reached the top of the steps some fifteen minutes later. It even had a tesselated tower! Positively medieval! Although the colonnaded loggia that fronted the massive building could have been lifted straight from ancient Rome. A simply amazing place, set here overlooking the ocean in far North Queensland. A very commanding place, too.
Hannah’s curiosity was instantly piqued. What kind of people owned it, lived in it? Only great wealth could maintain it like this, she decided, eyeing the manicured lawns and magnificent tropical gardens. There had to be some really interesting history behind it all, too. Maybe she could winkle some of it out of Mrs King during the interview. People did enjoy talking about themselves and the less talk focused on Hannah, the better.
It surprised her to see an elderly woman seated outside in the loggia. She looked perfectly relaxed, in command of a table placed near a very elaborate stone fountain. In front of her were several manila folders and a tray holding refreshments; a jug of fruit juice, another of iced water, a plate of cookies, three glasses. As Hannah approached, she realised the woman was subjecting her to a very thorough scrutiny. She also noted her autocratic air, the black silk dress and the opal brooch pinned at her throat.
Hannah had anticipated meeting a much younger woman, but she suddenly had no doubt that this was Mrs King, and while she might be a white-haired old lady, the mind behind those brilliant dark eyes was razor-keen. Hannah felt she was being catalogued in meticulous detail, from the wavy wisps that invariably escaped her plait, to the cleanliness of her toe nails poking out from her sandals.
She was suddenly super conscious of her bare midriff and wished she’d worn a skirt instead of the hipster jeans which might or might not be showing her navel. Looking down would be a dead giveaway of an attack of nerves. Hannah held her head high, shoulders back, spine straight, and blasted any negative judgement with her best smile.
“Hannah O’Neill?” the woman inquired, a slightly bemused expression on her face.
“That I am,” Hannah replied, employing an Irish lilt for a bit of friendly distraction.
A nod, a half smile. “I am Isabella Valeri King.”
Which was definitely a mouthful of name, underlining a heritage that probably had royalty in its background. Being hopelessly ignorant of any useful facts, Hannah maintained her smile and warmly replied, “A pleasure to meet you, Mrs King.”
Another regal nod. “Please sit down, Miss O’Neill, and help yourself to any refreshment you would like.”
Hannah was glad to put the table between her and any possible sight of her navel. She wasn’t usually self-conscious about her body, but then she wasn’t usually in the presence of a woman who exuded aristocracy and was dressed like a duchess. Certainly not in these tropical climes.
She poured herself a glass of fruit juice, managing not to spill a drop, and determined not to be intimidated out of putting her best foot forward, even if it was only shod in a brown leather sandal. After all, hadn’t the old Roman senators worn leather sandals in their villas?
“Quite fascinating the list of places where you’ve worked, Miss O’Neill,” came the first leading comment. “Have you been travelling around Australia alone?”
“Well, not all alone. I’ve made friends here and there and sometimes journeyed on with them. It’s good to have company on long trips.”
“And much safer for a young single woman, I’d imagine. Or are you attached to someone?”
“No.” Hannah grinned hopefully. “Still looking for Mr Right.”
“With an eye to marriage?”
The highly direct comeback floored Hannah momentarily. “Well, I guess that’s what Mr Right is for, Mrs King,” she recovered, understanding this woman was highly unlikely to view the more casual live-together relationships in a kindly light.
“Unfortunately he’s not all that easy to find these days,” she rattled on, feeling she had to give a proper explanation of her failure to find him. “It’s not only a matter of him being right for me. I’ve got to be right for him and then the timing has to be right…” She heaved a rueful sigh. “Here I am, twenty-six, and the whole combination has not yet occurred for me.”
A sympathetic nod. “It’s true one cannot order it. As you say, there has to be a combination of auspicious circumstances.”
Got out of that one, Hannah thought triumphantly.
“Would you mind telling me something about your family, Miss O’Neill? I take it you are of Irish descent?”
Hannah laughed. Good humour covered a multitude of shortcomings. “Irish on both sides,” she replied. “My mother’s name was Ryan. Maureen Ryan. I’m the middle one of nine children, all of us very much wanted and loved.”
“Nine? That’s a very large family these days.”
“I know. It amazes most people. Some disapprove, calling it breeding like rabbits. I can only say I’ve never felt like a rabbit and it’s always been great having the ready support of a big family.”
“You haven’t missed them on this long journey you’ve taken?” was asked curiously.
“Well, we were brought up to be independent, too. To follow our own star, so to speak. Besides, they’re all only a call away. I noticed an Internet café here in Port Douglas when I arrived. That makes it easy to stay in touch.”
The old lady nodded, seemingly pleased with Hannah’s portrayal of her family background. “Are you keen to have many children yourself when you do marry?” she asked.
Why was this important? Hannah sensed it was. “At least four,” she answered truthfully, then shaved the answer with practical issues. “If I can get my husband to agree, and I’m not too old when I find him.”
“Twenty-six, twenty-seven,” the old lady said assessingly, as though she was totting up how many babies Hannah could fit in. “Perhaps you need to stay in one place for a while, Miss O’Neill. How long do you plan on staying in Port Douglas?”
“Oh, definitely for as long as the job lasts, Mrs King.”
A warm approval was now coming from the older woman, which boosted Hannah’s confidence. Family was obviously a key factor here. Hannah didn’t care why as long as it was working for her. Her instincts were shouting—Play it to the hilt!
“I notice you spent the last tourist season working at King’s Eden Wilderness Resort in the Kimberley,” came the next tack in the interview.
King’s Eden…King’s Castle…oh wow! Was this another branch of the same family? More legendary stuff—the Kings of the Outback and the Kings of the Tropics?
“What did you think of it?” Isabella Valeri King ran on.
Hannah’s enthusiasm did not have to be feigned one bit. “The resort was a fantastic slice of the Outback. A great experience. And so was working with the head chef there, Roberto,” she popped in judiciously. “I swear no one can cook barramundi like Roberto. Absolutely superb. It has to be the best-tasting fish in the world. Whenever the guests at the homestead brought in a catch…”
“And you learnt to cook it as he did?”
“Mrs King, give me a fresh barramundi, and I’ll give you a meal to remember.”
“I may take you up on that, Miss O’Neill.”
Enough about cooking! That hook was in. Better to get back to family. She projected eager, bright-eyed interest. “Is there a connection between the King family here and the Kings of the Kimberley?”
“We are related,” came the proud acknowledgment. “The older brother of my husband, Edward, carried the family line on at King’s Eden.”
Remembering the wonderful homestead on the great cattle station, sited like a crown on the top of a hill overlooking the river, she had to ask, “Did your husband build this castle?”
“No. My father did. It used to be known as the Valeri Villa in the old days. After my father died, and my son took over the plantations, the local people started calling it King’s Castle, and so it is today.”
“Plantations?” Hannah prompted.
“It was all sugarcane then.” She waved to the view. “Look across the inlet!”
Cane fields stretching from the sea to the mountains.
“My mother used to watch the burning of the cane from the tower here. But they do not burn the fields now. The cane is harvested green with special machinery. My grandson, Alessandro, looks after that business. His brother, Antonio, manages the tea…”
“Tea?” Hannah remembered seeing a tea plantation at Cape Tribulation.
Isabella nodded. “Though I suspect Antonio is more interested in his Kingtripper Company. The new boat, Duchess, is his pride and joy.”
So Antonio would be her boss if she clinched the job. Antonio, Alessandro…a very strong Italian influence here. Maybe that encompassed the thing about family.
“Your résumé says you worked on a boat at Fremantle in Western Australia,” Isabella went on, getting back to tricky business for Hannah.
She nodded. “Catering for Sunset Cruises around the harbour.” If you could call drinks and nibbles catering!
“So you’re used to working in a galley.”
“Oh, yes. Absolutely.”
“And you don’t get seasick?”
“Never have been.”
True, but she hadn’t been tested much on that score. Better buy herself some travel-sickness pills to be on the safe side.
“Matteo supplies a selection of exotic fruit for exclusive use on Duchess,” Mrs King informed her. “You will have to learn about their qualities. Matteo is my youngest grandson. He looks after the tropical fruit plantations.”
Three Kings, Hannah thought, and wondered if they had wives. “Do you have any great-grand-children, Mrs King?”
She smiled, delight twinkling in her dark eyes. “A little boy, Marco. He is the son of Alessandro and Gina, who is now expecting another child.”
“Well, congratulations!” Hannah said heartily.
“Thank you. Unfortunately, my other two grandsons have not yet found…” Her mouth quirked. “…Miss Right.”
“It’s not easy,” Hannah said with much sympathetic feeling.
“Love is a gift,” Mrs King murmured, with a look of satisfaction that stirred Hannah’s curiosity again.
Before she could inquire what was meant they were both distracted by the noise of a helicopter zooming very close above them.
Mrs King looked even more satisfied as she explained, “That will be Antonio, coming in to land on the helipad. He said he would join us here if he could.”
Uh-oh! Hannah’s stomach did a little flip. She’d been doing so well with Mrs King, establishing a really warm rapport that would surely have led to her being given the job. Now she had to face the boss-man and win him over, too.
Double jeopardy!
At least she had his grandmother onside, which was some consolation, but undoubtedly the boss-man would have the last say.
Antonio…
Not married.
Did this mean he was hard to please? Or just too busy with his plantations and boats to care too much for any woman? Obviously a high-flyer in his helicopter, Hannah fervently hoped Antonio King would still have his head in clouds of tea business, at least until she could get a handle on him.
CHAPTER TWO
HANNAH’S heart did a hop, step, and jump as one of the great entrance doors to the castle swung open and the man came striding out towards the table by the fountain. Her wits went flying off to limbo in scattered little fragments. Her stomach contracted as though all her female muscles were twanging red alert. It was lucky she was still sitting down or her knees might have melted.
If this was Antonio King he was a king-size ten on the male Richter scale! Tall, dark and handsome did not sum it up. Dynamic energy came from him in waves. It had a magnetic effect that glued Hannah’s gaze to him. She did manage to keep her mouth closed which stopped any danger of drooling.
He was dressed in light grey tailored shorts and a grey and white striped business shirt, collar open, sleeves rolled up. Both arms and legs seemed to bristle with athletic muscle power. He wasn’t Mr Universe, but he was very, very masculine, the kind of masculine that made any woman want a bite of him. As many bites as he’d allow. Major sex appeal here! Major!!
“Nonna…” Arms out ready to embrace his grandmother, a smile full of straight white teeth, a squarish jawline, strong nose. “Thank you so much for filling in for me.”
“My pleasure, Antonio,” she said, rising from her chair to receive him with affection that was amply returned.
He enveloped her in a hug and planted a kiss on her forehead while Hannah was occupied admiring the taut cheekiness of his very cute backside, as well as the glossy thickness of his black hair and the neatness of his ears. Flynn’s ears, she remembered, had stuck out, and she’d actually planned on giving her children plastic surgery to pin theirs back if they inherited Flynn’s ears. Not that she had to worry about that anymore, but she couldn’t help thinking Antonio’s ears were quite perfect.
He swung aside from his grandmother, gesturing towards Hannah, a dazzling smile accompanying the question, “And this is…?”
“Miss Hannah O’Neill,” his grandmother supplied. “Your third applicant for the job of chef onboard Duchess.”
“Hannah…” He stepped forward, offering his hand, grey eyes with intriguing bits of hazel in them meeting hers with the impact of an atom bomb, blowing apart the long-held shield around Hannah’s heart. “…I’m Tony King.”
Tony, Tony, Tony…, some wild voice in her head sang as she stood up to greet him properly.
Hannah O’Neill sure had a body, Tony thought, noting her eye-catching curves as she rose from her chair. Didn’t mind showing it off, either, the clingy midriff top outlining breasts that would very sweetly cushion a man’s head, hipster slacks laying bare a highly feminine waist and a peek-a-boo navel with…was that a butterfly tattoo around it?
No time for a closer examination, though Tony found himself fancying precisely that. Satin-smooth skin, honey-tan, a nice soft roundness to her flesh, no bones sticking out, definitely the kind of feminine physique that appealed to him.
Her choice of clothes had probably turned his grandmother off, but they were a turn-on for guys. No question. A clever piece of calculation for this interview? Misfiring in these circumstances. A black mark against her would have been instantly notched in his grandmother’s mind.
She lifted her hand to meet his and he automatically grasped it, actually feeling a little jolt of pleasure at the touch of her—a slender hand, long fingers, warm and soft. She smiled and he was momentarily fascinated by the dimples that appeared in her cheeks. Very cute effect.
Her eyes were green, like the green of forest pools. Thick fair hair waved from a centre parting and was pulled back in a plait, although she hadn’t been able to trap it all. Fuzzy little tendrils gave her face a rather endearing frame that went with the little girl dimples.
“I’m very pleased to meet you, Mr King.”
Nice voice, sort of musical.
“Tony,” he corrected, without pausing to think if giving her his first name was appropriate.
“Tony,” she repeated in a soft sensual lilt that put a tingle in his groin.
And those green eyes were dynamite, projecting a pleasure in him that could scramble his brains if he wasn’t careful. Already he was thinking he’d like to taste the mouth that had spoken his name like that. He was still holding her hand. He clamped down on the urge to hold more of her—not the right time or place—though he had a strong desire to pursue this woman once the job issue was out of the way.
Good thing he could blame his grandmother for selecting someone else for the position of chef. Which he had no doubt she would do. It neatly separated business from pleasure. And he could probably wangle some other job in town for Hannah O’Neill if she wanted to stick around.
“Miss O’Neill is your new chef for Duchess.”
“What?” The word spilled out before Tony could catch it back. He instantly released Hannah’s hand and spun around to face his grandmother, frowning over her shock announcement. “You’ve chosen already?”
She smiled serenely at him. “You did leave the decision in my hands, Antonio. Miss O’Neill and I had been chatting for some time before your arrival. There is no question in my mind she will suit you very well.”
“Oh, thank you, Mrs King!” Hannah flew past him and grabbed his grandmother’s hands, pressing them effusively. “I promise I won’t let you down. And any time you’d like me to cook a barramundi for you, just say the word and…”
Cook? Tony stared at the thick plait falling down to the delectable curve of her spine, which led to her even more delectable bottom, and couldn’t see Hannah O’Neill in a galley at all. He could only see her in a bed…with him!
Yet, here she was, dressed in positively provocative clothes, somehow getting on like a house on fire with his grandmother who was smiling at her as though she was the apple of her eye, not minding at all being pounced upon and gabbled at by a woman showing her naked navel with a butterfly tattooed around it!
Tony was still trying to get his scrambled mind around this incredible state of affairs when Hannah turned back to him and grabbed his hand again, squeezing it in both of hers.
“I’ll be the best chef you’ve ever had on Duchess,” she gushed, her eyes lit up like Christmas trees, lots of electricity sparking at him and pumping up his heartbeat. “I’ll learn everything that needs to be done double-quick. I promise you won’t be disappointed in me, Tony.”
Tony… She was doing it again, making his name sound like something she savoured on her tongue. It was almost a French kiss. And he sure as hell was going to be disappointed if she was working for him. Mixing it with an employee would only lead to trouble. Right now, with her hands clasping his, he had a mental image of her body clasping another part of his anatomy which was already giving him trouble.
“I think we should sit down and talk about this,” he said quickly, deciding that putting a table between them was fast becoming mandatory. Not only would it hide his physical discomfort but it would give him enough distance to view Hannah O’Neill in a business-like light. If that was possible.
“Oh, yes!” She released his hand to clap her own. “I need to know when you want me to start and…”
“All in good time,” he instructed, waving her to the other side of the table.
She virtually skipped around to the chair he’d indicated, her exuberant spirits totally irrepressible and almost mesmerising. Tony had to wrench his gaze away from her to get himself settled on a chair and his mind properly organised to deal with this problem.
He shot a glance at his grandmother who had resumed her seat. Her complacent air niggled him. She should have taken more time over this, should have consulted with him first before handing the job to Hannah. That bemused little smile on her lips…had she been mesmerised into an impulsive decision? His steely-willed grandmother?
“Ah! Here is Rosita with afternoon tea!” she announced with warm satisfaction, obviously happy now to turn this into a social situation.
Tony gave up. Hannah O’Neill had somehow wormed her way into his grandmother’s good books and she was now being given the ultimate seal of approval—afternoon tea with Isabella Valeri King in the loggia. He was going to have to run with this ball, whether he liked it or not.
His grandmother proceeded to play grand hostess, aided and abetted by Rosita who fussed around, making sure everything was to their liking. She even produced the carrot cake with the cream cheese and walnut topping—a sure sign the company rated five stars. He was definitely down the mine here without a tin hat to protect him.
Having accepted the inevitable, Tony pulled over the manila folder that contained Hannah O’Neill’s particulars, and focused his mind on getting down to business. Pleasure was now out. Regardless of how strong the temptation, it was utter madness to get sexually involved with an employee. He had to keep Hannah O’Neil at arm’s length. Though even the width of the table didn’t feel far enough.
“I see we addressed our reply to your application, care of Mason’s Shop at Cape Tribulation,” he started off, needing to establish a properly serious vein to this meeting.
“Mmm…”
He looked up to find her licking cream from her lips, and his stomach instantly contracted, hit by a bolt of desire so hard his mind was out for the count.
“I was picking up my mail there,” she explained, once she had her sexy mouth composed for speech. “I spent a couple of weeks exploring the Daintree. Such an amazing rainforest. Being in the midst of it was like being plunged back in time to when…”
“Yes,” he snapped, cutting off her disturbingly lyrical voice. He picked up a pen and jabbed it at the form she’d filled out. “So where are you staying at Port Douglas?”
She took a deep breath.
Her breasts rose distractingly.
“I haven’t found a place yet. I only came down from Cape Tribulation this morning. For the interview. But I’ll find somewhere before tonight. I’ve noticed there are loads of accommodation places here.”
Tony was gaining the fast impression Hannah O’Neill operated on a wing and a prayer. She wasn’t prepared for taking on this job.
“Tourist accommodation,” he pointed out. “If you intend to stay the whole season…”
“Absolutely,” she assured him. “I’ll look for something appropriate.”
“Where have you left your luggage?”
“I put it in a locker at the marina.” She leaned forward, smiling an eager appeal for understanding. “You see, it did rather depend on whether or not I got this job what I did next, so…”
Definitely a wing and a prayer, Tony thought sternly, battling not to drown in her eyes.
“You will need an apartment with a well-equipped kitchen,” his grandmother inserted authoritatively. “Antonio, until Miss O’Neill gets her bearings here, I think it best you put her in one of the guest apartments Alessandro keeps in the Coral King block.”
“A guest apartment?” Tony eyed his grandmother, wondering if she’d gone stark raving mad. Hannah O’Neill was not family or friend. She was an employee, and hardly a highly valued one at this juncture! She hadn’t even been on trial yet.
“I’m sure there’ll be one that’s not being currently used,” came the unshaken reply. “It will give Hannah the chance to settle into her new job and time to look around for suitable accommodation.”
So, it was Hannah now!
“This is very kind of you, Mrs King,” the fair-haired witch chimed in, her dangerous green eyes obviously casting spells in all directions.
“A simple resolution to immediate problems,” his grandmother declared.
“Right!” Tony agreed, knowing he was outgunned before he’d fired a bullet. Feeling constrained to fire other bullets before they could be diverted, he fixed a steady gaze on Hannah O’Neill and stated, “Please understand you start this job on a trial basis. The people who pay for a trip out to the reef on Duchess are promised the best of everything. Any failure to deliver it, in any area of service on that boat, cannot be tolerated.”
“You mean…no second chances?” A touch of anxiety.
“That depends on how large the blunder is. The odd mistake can be glossed over. Anything that spoils a day out…”
“Would be terrible!” she exclaimed, looking appalled at the thought. Like quicksilver her expression changed, her eyes filling with eloquent earnestness. “Any little problem I might cause, I swear I’ll make up for it a hundredfold. I’ve never had any complaints lodged against me, Tony.”
He could believe it. She could probably get anyone to forgive her anything. In fact, before they knew it, they’d probably be helping her out of whatever fix she got herself in. Here was his grandmother, giving her prime accommodation, and every time she called him by his name, his heart did this weird curl which took his mind off what he should be concentrating on.
Was she going to be a hazard for the male members of his crew? What if the dive team lost concentration? She’d better stay in the galley where she belonged. No straying out on deck. At least his current chef on Duchess was gay, so she shouldn’t disturb him while he familiarised her with the job she’d be taking over.
“Chris, the chef you’ll be replacing, wants to leave at the end of the week, so it would be good if you could start tomorrow, learning everything you can from him before he takes off. He’s been a top chef for us and I’m sorry to be losing him.”
“Why is he going?”
“Personal problems.” He sighed, giving vent to some of his frustration. Then with an ironic grimace, he added, “His partner is yearning for the more sophisticated scene in Sydney. Paradise has its limitations.”
“I’m sure I’ll be very happy here.”
She twinkled so much happiness at him Tony’s chest tightened against the barrage. He forced his gaze down to the papers in front of him. He couldn’t even hope she might start yearning for city lights and fly out of his life. It was clear from her résumé she’d been working in tropical climates for some time— Broome, Darwin, even a six-month stint at King’s Eden in the Kimberley. Port Douglas probably was a paradise to her.
“So what time am I to be at the marina tomorrow?” she asked eagerly.
“Eight o’clock. Duchess leaves at eight-thirty and returns at four-thirty. You’ll be provided with a uniform which is to be worn onboard at all times.” Which should cover up her most distracting assets. He glanced at his watch. “If we leave now, I can introduce you to the crew when they disembark this afternoon.”
She immediately leapt up from her chair.
The butterfly pulsed at him.
Tony closed his eyes for one tight moment and rose to his feet, turning to his grandmother and lining up his vision on her.
“Always in a rush, Antonio,” she sighed. “You didn’t eat anything.”
“Sorry, Nonna. Had a big lunch,” he excused, stepping over to kiss her cheek. “Thanks again for doing the interviews.”
“Perhaps Hannah will tempt you with her cooking.”
Her culinary expertise was very low on the list of temptations where Hannah O’Neill was concerned. “As long as she tempts our trippers, I’ll be happy,” he said, hiding his dark thoughts.
“Mrs King, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your kind consideration and the chance to do my best for Duchess,” came the fervent flow from the seductive voice, working some more magic on his grandmother who bestowed her most benevolent smile.
“I hope everything works out well, my dear. You must have afternoon tea with me again one day. I did enjoy our chat together.”
“I’d like that, too, Mrs King.”
Oh, great! Tony thought in high exasperation. Next thing you know she’d be invited to family functions and she’d be in his face all over the place. Apart from which, he now had to contend with Alex’s and Matt’s reactions to her being put into one of the Coral King apartments, free of charge. His employee!
Nonna had boxed him into a very uncomfortable corner. Somehow he had to work his way out of it without upsetting her and without getting himself into big trouble with Hannah O’Neill.
CHAPTER THREE
“COME this way. We’ll take the jeep down to the marina,” Tony instructed, setting a brisk pace along a path that led around to the other side of the castle.
Always in a rush, his grandmother had said, and Hannah could see what she meant. Her legs were working overtime keeping up with him. Her heart was racing, too. She hoped she hadn’t bitten off more than she could chew with this job. Living up to Tony King’s standard of excellence was a scary prospect. She was going to have to learn fast, even faster than he walked.
The jeep was parked next to the helipad. Hannah was used to the small bubble helicopters that transported guests at King’s Eden Wilderness Resort. The one Tony King flew was a very sleek machine in comparison. Big money. Big money everywhere she looked. Could a million-dollar-man fall in love with a cook?
Her mind fuzzed with the thought of happy miracles. She shot him her best smile as he opened the passenger door of the jeep for her. Unhappily he didn’t see it. His gaze seemed to be trained on watching her legs swing in before shutting the door again, and he frowned all the way around to the driver’s side.
Business worries? she wondered. It was probably a bit forward to ask, so she held her tongue as they rode down to the marina. He maintained a grim-faced silence until they reached the Kingtripper office where he handed her over to the receptionist with an efficiency that left Hannah feeling somewhat deflated.
“Sally, this is Hannah O’Neill,” he said with almost curt haste. “She will be our new chef on Duchess.”
“Hey! That’s great! Congratulations!”
Hannah didn’t even get time to reply.
“Supply her with a uniform, give her all the information about our cruises, and let me know when the crew comes in. I need to catch up on the latest figures.”
“Will do,” Sally more or less said to his back as he headed towards a door that opened to a private office. His abrupt manner hadn’t dimmed her brightness. She had a pretty, vivacious face, a very short bob of dark brown hair, and blue eyes that danced lively curiosity at Hannah as she aimed a grin at her. “Welcome onboard the Kingtripper line.”
“Thanks.” Hannah grinned back, then nodded to the now closed door, whispering, “Does he always move this fast?”
“Well, the chef situation is getting fairly urgent with Chris all upset about Johnny leaving,” Sally confided.
“Who’s Johnny?”
“His partner. Who threw an ultimatum at him last week and took off to Sydney. Follow him or else.” A roll of the eyes. “Chris would be better off without Johnny, if you ask me, but I guess gay relationships are just as demanding as any other.” She grimaced. “I took this job as therapy after divorcing my over-bearing husband. What about you?”
“Me?” Hannah’s mind was still buzzing through all these new bits of information.
“Well, you’re obviously a stranger in town since you didn’t know about King’s Castle. Are you escaping from something?”
“More looking around,” Hannah said blithely, realising Sally was a gossipy person and it paid to be wary of giving out too much before she knew the lay of the land. Besides which, the ex-love of her life had receded into the far distance since she had met Tony King. She could almost wish Jodie well of Flynn. Almost.
She pasted a smile over the niggling sense of betrayal and elaborated on her carefree theme. “I wanted to get work here and stay awhile. It’s a beautiful part of Australia.”
“Sure is,” came the ready agreement. “And the perfect base for bouncing off to other great places. Have you got accommodation?”
“Yes. All fixed up.” A strong sense of discretion told her to keep quiet on that front, too, so she rushed on, “What I need now is all the info on Duchess and…”
“A set of uniforms,” Sally said obligingly. “Come on. I’ll fit you out and feed you facts.”
They only had ten minutes before Duchess glided in to dock at the marina. They watched it from the double glass doors that opened out to the promenade deck. Even to Hannah who’d seen many expensive boats in Fremantle, it looked fabulous; a sleek, stylish, black and white catamaran that exuded power and luxury.
“By far the best,” Sally said proudly. “Only launched last year. Air-conditioned saloon and bridge, the most up-to-date entertainment systems, walk-in easy water access for diving or snorkelling, and for you, a fully equipped galley, including an espresso coffee machine and a dishwasher.” She gave Hannah a droll look. “No plastic plates on Duchess. It’s all top class.”
Hannah nodded, observing the stream of day-trippers emerging onto the wharf—the clothes they wore, the bags they carried, all classy casual gear. These were moneyed people who paid for the best and expected it as their right. They looked happy and satisfied, which meant the five-star service had not fallen short today.
She took a deep breath, refiring her determination to ensure her service didn’t fall short of the standard Tony King wanted maintained. The strong need to please him—more, to delight him—went far beyond what she should feel for her employer, but there was no point in trying to deny he’d put a new zing in her life. She got an electric charge just bringing his image to mind.
“Does…uh…Mr King ever go out on Duchess?” she couldn’t stop herself from asking.
“Oh, yes! He skippers it most Saturdays and Sundays. And also when it’s chartered by a special party. We’ve had a few celebrities with their entourage wanting Duchess to themselves for a day. Tony likes to take personal care of VIPs. He’s a terrific host, and of course, they spread the word to their friends. Best publicity we can get.”
Tony… Sally spoke the name so familiarly, Hannah reasoned it must be okay to use it in front of the staff. It was silly to suddenly feel awkward about it. It had felt right when they’d been at the castle. He just seemed to have distanced himself from her since they’d left his grandmother. But she was probably being over-sensitive where he was concerned, not wanting to put any foot wrong.
Today was Wednesday. She had two days to learn all the ropes, practise her cooking and have everything down pat before he came on board. Tomorrow she would bring a notebook with her and jot down everything Chris did, everything she had to know about the galley and how it worked. Once the overall routine was fixed in her mind, she could add her own special touches, show Tony he’d really got a prize in his new chef. Then he’d give her that heart-buzzing smile and…
“Crew’s coming off now,” Sally announced, jolting Hannah back to the immediate situation. “Eric and Tracy and Jai do the diving. They’re the first three. Next comes Chris and his assistant, Megan, then the skipper, David, and the first mate, Keith.”
Five men, two women, all of them young and looking very fit and full of vigour. Soon to be four men and three women, Hannah thought. She saw Chris—hair very peroxide blonde—hurrying past the others, an urgent intensity driving him as he headed for the office.
“I’d better get Tony,” Sally muttered, and made a dash for his door.
He emerged just as Chris bounded in, clearly pumped up with his personal problems, his frown lifting as he saw Tony. “Did you get someone?” he burst out, so intent on his own needs he didn’t even give Hannah a cursory glance.
“Calm down, Chris.” The strong, authoritative voice warned the chef he was out of line. “You have just walked past the person I’ve hired as your replacement.”
“Sorry, sorry…” He spun to face Hannah, relief breaking a smile through his anxiety. “Hi!”
“Hi!” she returned with smile inviting fellowship.
“This is Hannah O’Neill,” Tony introduced. “Chris Walton, who’ll show you precisely what’s expected of the chef on Duchess over the next two days.”
Which jerked Chris’s head back to Tony. “Do I have to? Can’t Hannah…?”
“No.” Very firm. “You stay till the end of the week. As agreed, Chris.”
“But Megan could show her everything.”
“It’s your responsibility.” The grey eyes were very steely as he added. “Don’t let me down, Chris.”
Me, too, Hannah thought on a panicky note, her nerves instantly protesting the prospect of being thrown in at the deep end without a life raft.
“You now have a cut-off day,” Tony went on. “You can book a flight to Sydney on Friday evening. You’ll forfeit your pay and a reference if you leave before then. Understand me?”
Chris crumpled. “Yeah, yeah. I just thought…”
“I want a smooth changeover, Chris.”
“Okay!” He sighed and turned back to Hannah. “Don’t get me wrong. It’s a great job. I just need to be elsewhere.”
She nodded sympathetically. “I will appreciate your staying on to show me how to handle everything, Chris.”
“No sweat,” he muttered, but it obviously was. The absent Johnny definitely had the screws on him.
The others streamed into the office and having settled the departure issue with Chris, Tony proceeded to introduce her to the rest of the crew. They seemed a cheerful bunch and Hannah felt only good vibrations coming her way, no reservations about her fitting the role she’d taken on.
She was very conscious of Tony watching, and hoped he was pleased with the quick and easy connections made and the positive mood engendered by them. In any tourist business, it was important to promote an air of friendly approachability. Keeping a happy face was second nature to Hannah and today it was very easy for her to exude happiness.
A lovely new place to explore.
A new job to keep her going.
A new man who might just be Mr Right…if her heart was telling her true!
“Hey! Great dimples!” David Hampson, the skipper remarked. He was the last one to be introduced, the senior man on the crew, and very good-looking with bright brown eyes and a charming grin which he swung from her to Tony. “I think you’ve picked us up an asset here.”
It earned a frown. “What we need is great cooking.”
“Granted,” David cheerfully agreed, returning a sparkling gaze to Hannah. “But give it to us served with dimples and it’ll put a fine edge on our appetites.”
She laughed, liking his good-humoured teasing.
“Are you ready to move now, Hannah? Got everything you need?” Tony shot at her, cutting off the laughter.
“Yes.” She quickly picked up the plastic bag which contained her uniforms and a pile of print-outs on the Kingtripper cruises.
“Right!” He addressed the crew. “I expect you all to look after Hannah tomorrow, without her becoming a distraction to what you should be doing. Just keep everything running smoothly. Okay?”
They chorused assent.
His gaze sliced to her. “Let’s go. I’ll take you to your accommodation now so you can get settled and ready for work in the morning.”
“See you all tomorrow,” she tossed at everyone and quickly accompanied Tony out to the walkway through the shopping mall, her heart fluttering at his rush to be on the move again.
“Where’s your luggage?” he asked.
“This way.” She waved to the left and he was off at a stride that demanded she keep up. A glance flashed at his profile told her his mouth was grimly set again. “Thanks for your support back there,” she said tentatively, grateful for his stand with Chris.
“I hope you’re not going to be trouble, Hannah,” he grated out.
“Trouble?” she echoed, flustered by this negative reading which she hadn’t been expecting.
He beetled a warning look at her. “David Hampson is married. He’s got two children.”
“Well, that’s very nice for him,” she replied, still mystified by the almost accusing manner.
“Yes. Let’s keep it that way.” His chin jutted forward, along with his gaze as they walked on.
It took a while for his meaning to filter in. Tony King saw her as a threat to David Hampson’s marriage? Why on earth would he think that? Because David had made a comment about her dimples? That was ridiculous…wasn’t it?
“You know, it’s not my fault I’ve got dimples,” she said testingly. “I was born with them.”
“And a lot else, besides,” he muttered darkly.
It was too much for Hannah. “Do you have a problem with me?”
“No.” His chin jutted even more forward. “Why would I have a problem?”
“I don’t know.” She frowned over the puzzle. He’d been distant towards her ever since… “Maybe if you’d been making the choice, I wouldn’t have been given the job.”
“I have the utmost faith in my grandmother’s judgement,” he declared as though not the slightest doubt had ever entered his mind.
“Well, that’s a relief!” She heaved a sigh to get rid of that bit of unnecessary tension. “It’s not a good feeling working for someone who doesn’t want you.”
“No question that I want you,” he said very dryly.
“That’s okay then.” She felt much better, and to relieve any worries he might have about her, she said, “Generally I get on very well with people.”
“So I noticed.”
“And I don’t believe in messing with anyone’s marriage.” Not even Flynn’s and Jodie’s.
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“I certainly wouldn’t enter into any flirtation with David.”
“Fine!”
“Sally filled me in on Chris’s situation so I understand about that, but is there anything else I should know about the crew so I don’t put a foot wrong?”
“Nothing that springs to mind.”
“You’re not going to warn me off Eric or Jai or Keith?”
“Tracy might well throw you to the sharks if you get your teeth into Jai.” A sharp glance. “Do you fancy him?”
How could she fancy any of them with him around? Didn’t he know he outshone them by about a million megawatts? “I thought they were all attractive people, but they didn’t ring any special bells for me,” she answered honestly.
“Who knows when the bell might toll?” he said with heavy irony.
It tolled the moment you walked into my life, Hannah thought, but she wasn’t sure Tony King was ready to hear that, particularly when he seemed to have some funny ideas about her…like she was some kind of honey-pot who drew men from other women. Which was really strange, because no one had ever cast her in the role of femme fatale before. She wondered why he saw her that way?
A happy thought struck. It had to mean he found her attractive. Maybe more than just attractive if he thought other men could be tempted out of their relationships because she was there.
No question that I want you.
What if he actually meant he wanted her in a man-woman sense, not a job sense? Excitement pumped her heart faster. It almost put a skip in her step as they exited from the mall and headed towards the row of storage lockers outside another booking office. Hannah quickly found hers, unlocked it, and lifted out her backpack.
“Is that all?” Tony asked as she closed the door on the emptied locker. He looked amazed at the economical amount of her possessions.
“It is easier to travel light,” Hannah explained matter-of-factly.
He stared down at the bag near her feet as though it represented a life he couldn’t quite bring himself to believe in. His gaze shifted to her well-worn sandals, then slowly travelled up her much-washed and somewhat faded jeans. He was probably realising she had few clothes with her and they were in frequent use, but this direct re-appraisal made Hannah super-conscious of her body again.
Her knees quivered. Muscles below her stomach spasmed. By the time his scrutiny reached her bare midriff, she could feel her nipples hardening in some wild anticipation of his liking the shape of her breasts, even wanting to touch them. His gaze certainly lingered on them long enough to take her breath away. She couldn’t think of anything except how much she wanted him to really want her, and her temples were pulsing with an exhilarating excitement when he finally looked into her eyes.
But there was no suggestion of desire in his.
No flirtatious twinkle.
What poured out at her was an almost savage intensity of feeling. It gripped her heart like a vice, squeezing it as though he wanted to extract her life essence, everything she was made of. Not because he wanted it. He just wanted to know. And he was angry at the need to know.
Hannah could feel herself shrivelling inside. She didn’t understand what he found wrong with her, why he was angry. In sheer self-defence, she broke the shattering flow from him by bending over to pick up her bag. He beat her intention by grabbing the straps ahead of her.
“I’ll carry it for you,” he said gruffly.
She didn’t argue. In fact, she snatched her hand back from making any contact with his. When he set off for the parking area where he’d left the jeep, she lagged a pace behind, struggling with a mountain of emotional confusion. She wasn’t sure she wanted to go with him or be connected to him for any length of time.
Rejection hurt.
She’d been there before.
All those months with Flynn…then to find him cheating with her best friend. It had made everything—absolutely everything—feel wrong.
She’d only just met Tony King but…anger started to burn, searing away the hurt. He had no right to treat her as though she was some kind of unwelcome intruder in his life. He could have vetoed his grandmother’s judgement and taken on one of the other applicants for the job of chef. She shouldn’t be fretting over what he might perceive as wrong with her. The fault obviously lay in him.
She was fine.
His grandmother thought she was fine.
The crew of Duchess thought she was fine.
So there had to be something wrong with Tony King if he didn’t think she was fine.
CHAPTER FOUR
TONY tried to get a grip on himself as he drove the jeep up to Macrosson Street. He’d never felt jealous over any woman in his entire life. Just a harmless comment about Hannah’s dimples and David Hampson could have been a dead man back there, which was a totally over the top reaction.
The effect Hannah O’Neill had on him was getting close to disastrous. Even when she had set him straight in an upfront reasonable manner that should have forced him to be rational about the crew situation, he couldn’t get over the hump of the feelings she stirred in him. He told himself it was stupid to transfer those feelings to every guy who met her. She wasn’t so…stunningly captivating. She was just…very attractive.
Yet when he’d checked her over again with that one modest backpack from the locker telling him she was certainly unique amongst all the woman he’d known—living with so little—bells had definitely been ringing for him, a whole host of physical bells that still had his body buzzing with demands he had to dampen, not to mention the alarm bell in his head that told him he was in danger of losing it, along with all the common sense he’d learnt from past experience.
Remember Robyn, he savagely recited to himself as he spotted a place to park and pulled the jeep into it. He’d taken the tempting bait, fallen into the Robyn trap, then found she was claiming special privileges from the crew on the grounds of being his woman, lording it over them and even being rude to the day-trippers because she didn’t have to please anyone as long as she was pleasing Tony King in bed.
No more of that.
Employees could not be playmates.
Never!
He switched off the engine and steeled himself to look at Hannah O’Neill with no more than polite consideration.
“I have to pick up the apartment key from my brother. It will only take a few minutes.” He pointed to the building he was about to enter. “That’s the control centre for King Investments. Alex runs it. Are you okay waiting here?”
She nodded, her attention turning to the building so he only caught a glimpse of the bewitching green eyes. He got himself moving, determined on swift practical action. The sooner Hannah was delivered to an apartment, the sooner he could get her out from under his skin.
A pity he wasn’t involved with anyone at the moment. That was probably half the problem, missing the intimate company of a woman he liked. There was a hole in his life to be filled, but that was no reason to fill it with Hannah O’Neill. It was just a matter of looking around, putting himself in the social swim. He’d find a woman who attracted him and maybe she’d be right for him. Like Gina was for Alex.
Now there was a marriage he could envy. His brother had hit the jackpot with Gina Terlizzi. And made a lucky escape from the woman who’d thought she had Alex right where she wanted him—a user like Robyn. Self-centred sexy women could be very dangerous. A man definitely needed to keep his wits around them.
He just caught Alex as he was about to leave. Five o’clock. No working overtime now he had Gina to go home to. “Hold on a moment! I need a key to one of the guest apartments,” Tony told him, blocking the doorway out of the executive office.
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