Wild About the Man

Clementine? Who was Clementine? Nick shook his head. ‘Who?’

‘My daughter, Nicholas. She’s landed herself in a spot of bother and needs a place to escape to. Somewhere private and isolated and remote.’

Nick lifted dark eyebrows. ‘What type of trouble?’

If she’d murdered someone or needed rehab, he’d rather not take her, millions owing or not.

He’d rather not take her, period.

‘Press trouble. They want her blood. Her common law husband of a decade introduced her to his new fiancée on a nationally syndicated television chat show.’

Nick worked through that, and then winced in sympathy. Ouch. He searched his memory bank and recalled that his partner had a daughter living with Cai Campbell who, in his opinion, was a mediocre musician at best.

And what was with all the names starting with the letter C? Clem, Cai. Copeland. Campbell.

Nick snorted. Typical Hollywood. There were another twenty-five letters in the alphabet.

So Campbell dumped his ex-model partner for a newer version … and she was now his problem. In what universe was that fair?

‘She’s coming here?’

Copeland must have heard the doubt in his voice because his gaze sharpened. ‘Is that a problem?’

Nick folded his arms and nodded. ‘Actually, sir, yes, it is. We’re one of a handful of six-star lodges in Africa and we’re booked up to a year in advance. We do not have any vacancies and my next opening is next year.’

She can come back then, Nick thought. And she, like everyone else, could pay for the privilege.

The old man cursed, rather eloquently, Nick thought. ‘You have nothing at all?’

‘Two dormitory-style beds in a room in the junior rangers’ house.’

Those piercing eyes narrowed. ‘Don’t you have a spare room in your house?’

Hell, no!

‘Uh—’

‘Well?’

‘I don’t think my house is up to her standards. I mean, it’s OK, but not like the rooms in the Lodge.’

‘She’ll cope. And if she doesn’t, then she can just deal with it.’

Nick closed his eyes and counted to ten. He opened his eyes to see that Copeland was now sitting on the corner of his desk. He stared at Nick and tapped his finger against his thigh. Nick didn’t need him to voice the obvious:

Ten years ago I was the one person prepared to listen to a twenty-five-year lunatic who had nothing more than a Masters degree in Zoology, the shirt on his back and a piece of land adjoining the Kruger National Park. I took a chance on you … You owe me.

Nick sighed. Message received, loud and clear. ‘When does she arrive?’

Copeland looked at his slim watch. ‘In about thirty minutes; she’s flying in on my jet into your airfield.’

Oh, so he’d never really had the option of saying no.

‘Fine.’ It wasn’t but what could he do?

‘Thank you, Nicholas. I do appreciate this.’

Nick tipped his head back to look at the ceiling above his head. What had he done that warranted him being sentenced to sharing his house with a society princess—born with not a silver spoon but a canteen of diamond encrusted cutlery in her mouth—and who had a doctorate in being a rich man’s arm candy?

He rested his forehead on his desk. All he wanted was a cold beer, a swim and sex. Really, was that too much to ask?

In her father’s jet, Clem Copeland yawned, stretched and blinked away the last remnants of a brief restless sleep. She tucked her long legs up under her and caught the eye of her best friend, and personal assistant, who sat in the chair opposite her, eyeing her with quiet sympathy. Jason had been with her since her modelling days and he knew her inside out and upside down. As the memories of the past thirty-six hours rushed back to pummel her, she was grateful for his shoulder to lean on.

Tears, hot and angry, fell.

‘Sweetheart.’ Jason sighed, handed her a bottle of water and patted her knee.

‘It wasn’t just a horrible dream, was it?’

‘Sorry.’ Jason pursed his lips and shook his head. ‘Selfish, narcissistic ass.’

Clem saluted him with her bottle. ‘Careful, Jace, or else I’ll start to think that you don’t like him.’

‘I’ve never liked him! And I told you that he was planning something.’ Jason shoved both hands into his bleached blond hair, visibly frustrated.

‘I thought that if we could part amicably, then the press would shrug it off. After all, they’ve been predicting our breakup for years!’ Clem protested.

‘Cai has all the morals of an alley cat. He’s lied to you for ten years and yet you still fall for it!’ Jason poured himself a glass of wine and downed the contents in one long swallow. Clem reached for a tissue and wiped her eyes, light green and surrounded by long tinted lashes. Wet from her tears, they were even more startling than normal. ‘I’m not crying because I’m sad, I always cry when I’m angry!’

‘Mmm.’

‘I swear this time I could just boil him in oil.’ Clem gripped the bridge of her nose. ‘How long do you think he’s known her for and when did he propose? Two weeks? Three? That was quite a ring he’d bought her.’

‘You’re avoiding the subject.’

Damn right she was. That Cai had announced their breakup and introduced the world to her replacement and had proposed to her was humiliating enough, but the other bombshell he’d oh-so-casually dropped rearranged every atom in her body.

‘At least I vomited into her designer tote. That had to be a highlight.’

‘On national TV. But you did hide most of your face in her bag so you did it very discreetly.’

‘Thanks for pulling me off the show during that commercial break.’

‘Yeah. I’ve never hit anyone in my life but I came close to decking him.’

Clem tried to smile but her lips refused to cooperate. She dropped her legs and rested her forearms on her knees. She stared at the plush carpet beneath her knee length boots. When she looked up, she saw Jason’s occasional grimace as he worked on his laptop.

‘I’ve accessed the onboard Internet service,’ he explained.