The Millionaire Plan Page 2

  ‘That’s an original, isn’t it?’ she asked. ‘The Hay Wain has always been my favourite Constable.’

  ‘Mine too,’ a voice said behind her.

  Turning, she saw a middle-aged, aristocratic-looking man, still quite handsome with a full head of silver hair. ‘Lord Guy Taylor,’ he said, holding out his hand. ‘Glad to meet you all. Any friends of Simon’s and all that.’ His smile encompassed the whole group. ‘Make yourselves at home and help yourselves to drinks.’

  ‘Would you like a glass of champagne, madam?’

  A waiter was standing beside her, holding a silver tray full of glasses of the sparkling drink.

  I bet this champagne is the expensive stuff, not like the cheap bottles I get from the supermarket, she thought, taking a glass. ‘Thank you’. She sipped it cautiously; it tasted good, bubbly, and refreshing.

  The waiter handed Jed, Callie, and Simon a glass of champagne too, then moved onto the next group of guests.

  ‘Look, there’s Sadie and Karl! We must go and talk to them. See you later, you two,’ Callie said.

  She dragged Simon off, leaving Amber with Jed, who was deep in a conversation about sailing with Sir Guy. Amber hovered politely, feeling a bit awkward. Jed caught her eye and smiled apologetically. She smiled back to reassure him and took a sip of the champagne for Dutch courage. She had never been anywhere like this before. The place shouted money and so did the guests. All the women were beautiful and sophisticated, dressed in designer clothes and expensive jewellery, laughing and chatting, perfectly at ease. All except her. She was wearing her friend’s clothes and was here under false pretences. She was here to bag a millionaire. Callie belonged with these people, her family were aristocrats, she had been brought up with money. Whereas Amber was a fraud, an impostor, a gold-digger. What’s more, she was sure that everyone in the room realised it.

  Panic seized her. She had to get out of here. She turned to tell Jed that she’d like to go home but a beautiful blonde in a red dress that left little to the imagination was now talking animatedly to him.

  ‘I don’t think we’ve met before.’

  She looked up at the tall, fair-haired man in front of her. He was about her age and handsome, in a film star sort of way, his sun-kissed hair falling loosely over his face so his piercing blue eyes were barely visible. He pushed his hair back with his hand and gave her the full benefit of his charming smile, obviously aware of how good it made him look.

  ‘In fact, I know we haven’t met. There’s no way I’d forget you.’ His eyes raked her body then rested on her face. ‘I’m Randy Turner.’ He gave her a disarming smile, holding her in his gaze.

  Turner. Of course, she could see the resemblance. ‘So this is your father’s yacht?’ she asked. Her cheeks felt hot and she hoped she wasn’t blushing.

  ‘Yes, and one day it will be mine.’ He took a long, slow sip from the glass of champagne he was holding, his eyes never leaving her face. ‘And how about you, will you be mine?’

  ‘Pardon?’ She stared at him. For goodness sake, pull yourself together, Amber, it’s only a chat up line. You’re supposed to be acting cool and sophisticated. She took a big gulp of her drink to give herself courage, then realised that she’d emptied the glass.

  Randy half-turned, clicked his fingers, and a waiter walked over. The waiter took a glass of champagne off the silver tray he was holding and handed it to Amber, taking her empty glass from her.

  ‘Thank you.’ She held the stem of the glass tightly in her hand.

  ‘Well?’ Randy raised an eyebrow arrogantly. ‘You haven’t answered my question. ‘You’re not going out with anyone are you? That guy you arrived with?’

  ‘Jed? No, he’s just … an acquaintance.’ Amber took another sip of champagne and tried to act sophisticated. Honestly, anyone would think she’d never been chatted up before.

  ‘Good, then there’s nothing stopping you going out with me, is there?’

  This was going way too fast for her. She’d only been on the yacht ten minutes and already she had a millionaire’s son asking her for a date. She remembered what the book had said, play it cool.

  ‘I’ll have to consult my diary,’ she said flippantly.

  ‘I’d better warn you that I’m used to getting what I want.’ He smiled disarmingly.

  ‘Funny, so am I.’ She finished her champagne and held out the empty glass. ‘And right now, I’d like another drink.’ Steady, Amber, that will be your third. Better sip it slowly.

  Randy clicked his fingers again and the waiter hurried over to replace both their empty glasses.

  ‘Drink up, then I’ll give you a tour of the yacht,’ he said.

  Something told her that wouldn’t be a good idea. She didn’t trust him, he was too smooth an operator. Besides, she was feeling a bit light-headed. Too much champagne on top of an empty stomach, she guessed, realising that she’d had nothing to eat all day.

  ‘Actually …’ she tried to think of an excuse.

  ‘There you are, darling.’ Jed appeared by her side and planted a kiss on her cheek that made her senses reel. He gently but firmly took hold of her arm. ‘Sorry to interrupt but there’s someone I’d like you to meet.’ He nodded at Randy then whisked Amber away.

  ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ she demanded, her cheek still burning from that kiss.

  ‘I thought you needed rescuing. Randy looks a right slime-ball. I can guess what kind of guided tour he had in mind,’ Jed said.

  ‘So can I. Which is why I was about to refuse to go with him. I don’t need a bodyguard, you know.’

  ‘Look, you don’t realise what these people can be like. Some of them think money can buy anything and anyone. You’re out of your depths with people like Randy Taylor.’

  ‘Then I’m going to have to learn how to cope with them, aren’t I?’ she snapped. ‘And how to tell the nice millionaires from the creepy ones. Like Callie does.’

  ‘Your friend, if you’ll forgive me saying so, seems a lot more worldly-wise than you do.’ He glanced over at Callie, who was ardently kissing Simon in the corner of the room. ‘Look, let’s leave this party and go somewhere else for a meal, I bet you haven’t eaten yet and you’ve been knocking back that champagne as if it’s sparkling water.’

  ‘No, I’ve to stay here,’ she said trying to ignore the fact that her head was spinning dizzily. ‘I have to meet a millionaire.’

  ‘Why?’ His voice was curt. ‘Why exactly do you want to meet a millionaire, Amber?’

  ‘Because I have to get one to marry me, and as quickly as possible.’

  She saw his eyes widen with shock then her head spun dizzily and everything went black.

  Chapter Two

  Rule number 2: Act confident and sophisticated

  Amber stirred. Her head was pounding and her throat was so dry it felt like sandpaper. For a moment she wondered what was wrong with her, then she remembered the party on Lord Guy’s yacht, and realised with a groan that she’d got drunk and now had a massive hangover. She tried to cast her mind back to the party to recall if she’d done anything so embarrassing that she couldn’t show her face in public again but everything was a blur. She couldn’t even remember how she got home.

  What she needed now was the loo, a glass of water – it would have been better if she’d drunk that before she went to bed then she might not have this hangover – and a cup of coffee, in that order. Actually, the loo was top priority. She opened her eyes, pushed back the duvet in order to get out of bed, then gasped. This wasn’t her room! And, what was even worse, she was dressed in her undies!

  In a panic she looked around for her dress and saw it folded neatly over the back of a chair. Her white handbag was placed on the seat of the chair and her strappy sandals side by side underneath the chair. Who had put them there? Where was she? Oh, if only her head would stop thudding and she could remember what had happened.

  Forcing herself to keep calm, she looked around to see if anything jogged her memory. She wa
s sitting on the end of a massive king-size bed, covered by a cream linen duvet. She turned to see if the other side of the bed had been slept in and was relieved to see there was no indent in the large pumped-up pillow. She scanned the room, staring at the curtains, the thick gold carpet, the expensive light wood – maple, was it? – wardrobe and cupboards. None of it was familiar.

  Where was she?

  And where was the loo? Rising slowly to her feet, she clutched her stomach as it lurched in protest, wishing she didn’t feel so dizzy. Then she realised the room was swaying. Surely she wasn’t still on the luxury yacht with, she frowned as she tried to recall his name – Randy, that was it. She remembered vaguely that he’d offered to give her a guided tour. Had she been so drunk she’d taken him up on his offer? What had happened then? Oh, if only she hadn’t drunk so much of that perishing champagne. Surely she hadn’t …

  A knock on the door made her jump. She scrambled back into bed and sat up with the duvet pulled over her shoulders. It seemed that she was about to find out exactly whose yacht she was on.

  ‘Come in!’ she croaked, her eyes fixed on the door.

  Heart pounding she watched as the handle turned and the door slowly opened. Then, to her amazement and relief, Jed came in, carrying a tray on which she could see a glass of water, a glass of orange juice, and a plate of buttered toast.

  ‘How’s your head?’ he asked as he walked over to the bed.

  ‘Throbbing.’ Amber clutched the duvet closer. ‘Er, I can’t seem to remember much of last night,’ she confessed.

  He sat down on the end of the bed. ‘I’m not surprised, the amount of champagne you were knocking back,’ he said unsympathetically.

  ‘I was nervous,’ she told him. ‘And I’m not used to drinking champagne. I didn’t realise how lethal it is. And I hadn’t eaten,’ she added.

  ‘I suspected as much.’ He took a small container off the tray and shook out two tables. ‘Here, these painkillers will make you feel better.’ He handed her the tablets and a glass of water.

  How was she going to take them off him and keep hold of the duvet at the same time?

  Securing the duvet in place with one hand, she reached out for the tablets, popped them in her mouth, then took the glass. ‘Thanks,’ she said when she’d finally managed to swallow them. Trouble is, now her need to go to the loo was even more urgent.

  ‘No problem. I’ll leave you to eat your breakfast.’ He put the tray down on the bedside cabinet, then pointed to a door on the left. ‘The en suite’s through there if you want the bathroom and a shower, and you’ll find some clothes in the wardrobe that’ll probably fit you if you want to change into anything fresh. They belong to my boss’s wife.’

  ‘Thanks,’ she mumbled again, her cheeks growing hot. She was dying to ask him what happened last night but she needed the loo so desperately she didn’t dare keep him talking. Besides, she’d rather face those sort of questions when she was fully dressed and feeling a bit stronger.

  ‘I’ll be on the deck if you need me,’ he told her as he went out.

  Fifteen minutes later, showered and dressed in a gorgeous lemon designer dress that she’d found in the wardrobe, Amber tried to recollect her thoughts. Randy had been plying her with champagne, she could remember that. And she had a vague memory of talking to Jed a little later but after that her mind went blank. She just hoped she hadn’t acted stupid at the party and shown herself up. She couldn’t even remember how she’d got on Jed’s yacht, never mind undressed and in his spare bed. At least, she hoped it was his spare bed.

  She opened her bag, took out her lipstick, and applied a thin smear to her lips. Shame she hadn’t got the rest of her make up with her, she could do with some armour right now. Thankfully she had her sunglasses. They would serve both to shield her eyes against the glare of the light and to mask her embarrassment. She donned them then went in search of Jed.

  As she’d guessed, he was up on deck, lying on a sun lounger, reading the newspaper. He glanced up as she approached. ‘Feeling better?’

  ‘Yes, thanks, though my head is still killing me,’ She sat down on a deck chair by the table. ‘I hope I didn’t make too much of a fool of myself last night,’ she said awkwardly.

  He folded the paper and put it on the table. ‘You passed out before you could do anything really stupid,’ he reassured her. ‘I looked for your friend but couldn’t find her. I didn’t know the address of the cottage you were staying at so thought it best to bring you back here.’

  ‘I see.’ She swallowed. Keep calm, Amber, just ask him. ‘Look, this is going to sound awful but I have to know. I can’t remember much about last night, you see, and I wondered … er …’ She felt her cheeks burn. Damn, she was making a mess of this. Callie would have handled it with much more sophistication.

  ‘You want to know if we spent the night together?’ He sounded amused.

  ‘Well, yes.’

  ‘No, we didn’t. I’m not in the habit of taking advantage of women who are too drunk to know what they’re doing, no matter how beautiful they are.

  ‘Good, because I’m not that kind of girl,’ she said firmly.

  ‘Not unless I happen to be a millionaire,’ he replied.

  ‘What?’ She shot him a worried glance, grateful her sunglasses hid her eyes.

  He reached out and took the sunglasses off her face. ‘You told me last night that you had to marry a millionaire.’ His tawny eyes stared intently into hers. ‘But you passed out before you could tell me why.’

  ‘Oh no,’ she groaned, biting her lip. ‘I didn’t, did I? Did anyone else hear me?’

  ‘No, your secret’s safe with me. But you seemed to think that it was a matter of urgency and you don’t strike me as the stereotypical gold-digger. So what exactly is the reason you feel obliged to take such drastic action?’

  She flinched at the word ‘gold-digger’ but he was right, that’s what she was. She hated Jed to think of her in that way, to believe that she was just looking for a meal ticket like some of the other girls she saw hanging around the yachts. For some reason she cared what he thought about her. So she found herself telling him how she’d discovered that her parents were struggling financially because her father – a self-employed plumber who had been fit and hearty all his life so hadn’t seen the need for health insurance – had a very sudden and unexpected heart attack that left him too ill to work. And how, thanks to Rod, the creepy, two-timing rat she had been engaged to, they were about to lose their home. A beautiful Tudor house that had been in the family for generations. ‘Unknown to me, Rod persuaded Dad to put his savings into shares, but they went bust,’ she explained. ‘My dad adores that house. It will break his heart to sell. And it’s all my fault. Dad only trusted Rod because he was engaged to me.’

  ‘Do your parents blame you?’ Jed asked softly.

  She shook her head. ‘I don’t think so. They keep telling me not to blame myself but how can I ignore the fact that it’s my ex fiancé that got them in this mess? So it’s up to me to do all I can to pay them back and marrying a millionaire is the only way I can do it.’ She raised her eyes to his. ‘I know it sounds so mercenary but I’m scared the stress of having to sell the house will cause my dad to have another heart attack. I’ll never forgive myself if anything happens to him.’

  She’s either a very good actress or deadly serious. Jed leant back and surveyed her thoughtfully.

  ‘What about love?’ he asked.

  ‘Pardon?’ She asked, startled.

  ‘Well, people usually marry for love. I gather you’re intending to marry someone you don’t love?’

  ‘It might be a better bet than marrying someone I do love,’ she snapped back at him. ‘I almost did that with Rod and look where it got me. He went off with someone else and bankrupted my parents into the bargain.’ She shook her head. ‘No, I’m not letting my heart rule my head again. Callie was right, marrying a millionaire is the only option I’ve got.’

  ‘So this was your
friend’s idea, was it?’

  ‘Callie’s been so helpful. She let me borrow her clothes and she said all I have to do is look the part and follow the guide in the book.’

  ‘What book?’

  Flushing a little, she explained about a book called ‘How to Hook a Millionaire’ which she and Callie had been studying the past couple of weeks.

  He could hardly believe it. ‘You mean someone’s actually written a book to tell women how to ensnare a millionaire and you and your friend are following its advice?’ he asked incredulously.

  ‘Well … yes.’ Her cheeks were practically glowing.

  ‘So you’re going to do everything this book says? Deceive someone? Pretend you love him so you can get hold of their money?’ He could barely keep the contempt out of his voice.

  ‘No, I won’t, I’d never do that!’ Anger flashed in her eyes. ‘I wouldn’t tell anyone I loved them if I didn’t. I know how it feels.’

  He saw the look of pain on her face and reached out to put his hand over hers, fighting back the urge to take her in his arms and kiss her. Something he’d wanted to do all the day before. Especially last night when, without warning, she’d slipped off her dress and climbed into bed, seeming to completely forget he was standing beside her. It had taken all his willpower to turn around and walk out of the room. ‘I guess this Rod really hurt you, eh?’

  She nodded, her eyes now clouding over. ‘I was stupid. If I hadn’t been so infatuated I’d have seen what he was like.’

  ‘We’ve all been guilty of that at some time in our life,’ he told her. I certainly have, he thought, remembering Melissa. Luckily, he’d found out before he proposed that she was just after him for his money. That had hurt for a long, long time. He detested the women who hung about the haunts of the rich and successful, hoping to ensnare themselves a wealthy husband. Just like Amber was planning to do. ‘But can’t you see, noble as your reasons are, you can’t marry someone just because they’ve got loads of money. It’s not fair.’