An Unlikely Bride for the Billionaire by Michelle Douglas Page B

didn’t dissipate the heat building between them. It didn’t quash the thrill that raced through her whenever she heard his voice. It didn’t stop her from looking forward to seeing him this afternoon.
    She bit into her sandwich. Since when had the prospect of a meeting become more attractive than tromping along solitary paths with loppers and a pair of secateurs?
    She had to be careful around Dylan. Very careful. She couldn’t go falling for his charm. Never again would she be a man’s sap, his puppet. Not even one as alluring and attractive as Dylan. She’d sworn never to travel that particular path again.
    Couldn’t you just kiss him once anyway? Just to see?
    The illicit thought came out of left field. She stiffened. No, she could not!
    No way was she kissing Dylan. Any kissing was absolutely and utterly out of the question. That way led to the slippery slope of lost good intentions and foolish, deceitful dreams. She wasn’t descending that slope again. She had no intention of falling into the pit that crouched at its bottom.
    So...that’s a no, then ?
    A definite no !
    She wrapped up what was left of her sandwich and tossed it into a nearby bin. A glance at her watch told her she could manage an hour’s worth of path maintenance before she had to get back to meet with Dylan and his photographer. Wrestling with overgrown native flora sounded exactly what she needed.
    * * *
    Neither the exercise nor Mia’s resolution to resist Dylan’s appeal stopped her every sense from firing to life the moment she clapped eyes on him that afternoon. It made her want to groan in despair.
    No despair ! She’d only need despair if she gave in to her attraction—if she handed her heart to him on a platter and became his willing slave. The attraction part of the equation was utterly normal. She’d defy any woman to look at Dylan and not appreciate him as the handsomest beast she’d ever laid eyes on.
    Not that he was a beast. Not when he moved towards her, hand outstretched, a smile of delight on his face at seeing her. Then he was an utter sweetheart.
    She couldn’t stop herself from smiling back.
    It’s polite to smile .
    Polite or not, she couldn’t help it.
    He kissed her cheek, his warm male scent raising gooseflesh on her arms.
    â€˜Mia...’ He ushered her towards the other man. ‘I’d like you to meet Felipe Fellini.’
    She shook the photographer’s hand. ‘I’ve heard a lot about you, Mr Fellini.’
    â€˜Yes, yes, it is inevitable. Now this ...’ He gestured to encompass the lily pond and its surrounds. ‘You must tell me that you have something better, something more original for me to work with than this.’
    He strutted through the area in a coat embroidered with wild, colourful poppies, flinging his arms out in exaggerated disappointment while speaking in an affected American-Italian accent.
    Mia stared at him, utterly flummoxed. Never, in all of her twenty-five years, had she ever come across someone like Felipe Fellini!
    She moistened her lips. ‘I...uh...you don’t like it?’
    â€˜Ugh, darling! You do ? I mean, look at it!’ He pointed at the pond, the grass, a tree.
    Behind Felipe’s back, Dylan started to laugh silently. Mia had to choke back her answering mirth. ‘I... I can’t say as I’ve ever really thought about it.’
    He swatted a hand in her direction. ‘That’s because you’re not an artiste . My sensitivities are honed to within an inch of their lives, darling.’
    It should have been dismissive, but the words held a friendly edge and she suddenly realised he was having the time of his life.
    She planted her hands on her hips. ‘What’s wrong with it?’
    â€˜It’s a cliché. An utter cliché.’
    â€˜But isn’t that what a wedding is all about?’
    The question slipped out before she could censor it. She wished