At the Billionaire's Beck and Call? by Rachel Bailey Read Free Book Online

words, but from his presence. She could smell his scent and it brought back memories she couldn’t afford to indulge right now.
    She tilted her chin up. “I’m not sure where you got the idea that I’d be interested in your peculiar offer, but I will not now—nor will I ever—enter into a marriage of convenience. We don’t know each other well enough to even have this conversation.” She let her arms dropto her sides and let out a long breath. “What about love? Don’t you want to wait and find a woman you love?”
    Ryder rolled back his broad shoulders. “I have to be honest. Love isn’t something I can offer.”
    Macy sucked in a breath at his quick and effortless dismissal of being able to love her. But it wasn’t worth wasting energy over. She shook her head. “If you know anything about my family, you have to know the last man I’d ever marry is the one my father picked out for me.”
    His eyelids lowered a fraction as his voice became seductive. “You liked me last night.”
    Instinctively, she glanced at the screen on her desk, to the front page of the paper. To the image of Ryder kissing her. The shot had been taken as he cupped her cheeks with his hands, so they floated in the air, framing her face. Her throat went dry and she swallowed, remembering the crushing need she’d felt for him in that moment. Remembering the feel of him, the taste of him, the smell of him….
    She ignored the ache that pressed in her chest, then, resolute, she looked up and met his eyes. “I won’t break my contract—I’m a professional. I’ll see out this project for the six weeks left. Then I’m gone. I don’t want your promotion. And in the meantime, no more games. You’ll keep your distance. There will be no meetings alone, or trips together like the one planned to Sydney in two weeks.”
    His shoulders squared and his feet moved a little wider apart. “Not acceptable.”
    She did a double take. “Pardon?”
    â€œIf you’re seeing out the contract, then you still work for me. You will be on that plane to Sydney. I’m not going on an important trip with an accountant or a personal assistant when the team leader is available.”
    Macy took an unsteady step back, mind whirling. “You can’t possibly expect—”
    â€œI do.” Any trace of the man who’d kissed her was gone from his expression as he cut her off. The Machine was back. “There are no lame ducks on my payroll. If you’re staying, you’ll carry out your duties properly.”
    He turned and strode out the door, leaving her open-mouthed, watching him.
    Had she felt cornered before? Seemed she’d just discovered a whole new level of entrapment.
    Â 
    One week later, Macy stood in the foyer of her apartment building watching for Ryder’s car. Right on the dot of 8:00 a.m. it arrived, yet she wasn’t surprised. The Machine probably ran his whole life like clockwork.
    The silver luxury car pulled to the curb and the uniformed driver circled to open her door. Macy smiled in greeting to Bernice in the front passenger seat. She’d worked with Ryder’s personal assistant several times over the days the American team had been based in the Melbourne offices, and respected her.
    â€œThank you.” She slid into the backseat where Ryder’s solid length was settled.
    â€œGood morning, Macy,” he said, voice deep and rough. Dressed in a dark suit with a sky-blue shirt and tie the same shade, he dominated the sedan. His clean, woodsy scent filled the air.
    She gave him a polite smile, belying the way the sight of him still made her pulse spike. “Good morning.”
    They’d kept the polite facade going since the morning the paparazzi photo had been in the paper. The way she wanted it. Needed it to keep her reaction to him under control.
    As the driver climbed back behind the