Australian Millionaires: The Millionaire's Seductive Revenge

He swallowed some of his drink, then decided he didn’t need any more intoxication right now. Apart from a brief time last night and again this morning, he’d never really been alone with her like this before. It had gone to his head—no, his body. His state of constant arousal was killing him.

And she knew it. That’s why she wasn’t quite facing him as she sat sipping her daiquiri, her body turned slightly toward the crowd.

But she was only fooling herself. There could be a brick wall between them and the attraction would still seep through. Didn’t she know there was no stopping it? Not unless they made love and got it out of their systems, and then he had the feeling it would probably only intensify.

“Tell me more about your father,” he said, suddenly interested in what made her tick.

She raised a wry eyebrow. “Why?”

He gave a smile. “Are you this suspicious of everyone or is it just me?”

“Just you,” she said, her lips curving into a sexy smile that was as unexpected as was her words. God. She was lovely, with her smooth cheekbones, perfect nose, eyes that could dazzle a man with just one look and a deliciously tempting mouth.

She put her glass down, and when she looked up again her face had sobered. “There’s nothing much to tell. My father thinks he’s one of the beautiful people. He can’t stand being around someone who isn’t.”

Brant frowned. “You’re still his daughter.”

Her slim shoulders tensed. “The only reason he wants me around is because he thinks it’s good for his image.”

All at once something occurred to him. “Good Lord. Your father isn’t Lloyd Benton, is he?”

If it were possible, she tensed even more. “The one and only.”

Now he knew where she was coming from. Lloyd Benton owned the biggest fleet of used-car yards up and down the east coast of Australia. He was constantly in the newspapers with some young thing hanging off his arm—usually his current wife but not always. The man gave sleaze an added dimension.

“He’s your father?”

She raised her chin in the air. “I won’t apologize for him.”

“I don’t expect you to.”

No wonder she didn’t seem to hold men in high regard. Well, some men. He freely admitted that men like himself, who took one look and wanted to take her to bed, would only confirm her low opinion of the male species. Dammit, suddenly he was seeing another side to this woman that he wasn’t sure he wanted to see.

“It certainly explains a lot about you and Phillip.”

She tensed. “If you mean I want to marry someone who doesn’t have to bed every beautiful woman he meets, then you’re dead right. Phillip’s a nice man.” Her gaze dropped to her glass, then up again. “He’ll be a wonderful father and a faithful husband.”

“You didn’t say you loved him.” And he found that interesting. Very interesting.

“That goes without saying.”

“Does it?”

“Yes.”

And perhaps it was all an act. Perhaps working on people for sympathy was how she wormed her way into men’s beds … and their hearts. Perhaps it was all about paying back her father for being so weak.

“What about you?” she said, catching him off guard. “Are your parents still alive, Brant?”

He had no wish to talk about himself. “No. They died when I was eighteen.”

Sympathy flashed in her eyes. “I’m sorry. Any brothers or sisters?”

His jaw tightened. “A brother. And before you ask, he’s younger than me by a couple of years.” He looked at his watch and stood up. “Come on. Let’s go. It’s getting late.”

For a moment, surprise mixed with hurt appeared in her eyes, then cynicism took over. “Got a date, no doubt.”

“No doubt.” He didn’t tell her he was getting together with his two best mates for dinner, though Flynn and Damien would no doubt find it amusing that they were to be his “date” this evening.

Not that he’d tell them. The three of them had grown up together on the same street in this town—had shared everything from stories of their first kiss to their first million—but Kia Benton was one thing he wasn’t about to share with his rich and successful friends.

“Phillip Reid, how could you!” Kia exclaimed the next day as she swept into his study. She’d been phoning him on and off since returning from the art exhibition yesterday. He hadn’t answered, but she suspected he’d been at home. He’d been feeling low so she’d given him a reprieve, but now she had a few words to say to him whether he still felt bad or not.

He looked up and winced. “What can I say, Kia? I’m sorry.”

She stopped right in front of his desk. “I don’t like being used,” she said through gritted teeth.

His dark brows drew together. “I wasn’t … I didn’t mean …”

“Yes, you did.” She slapped the box containing the diamond necklace down in front of him. “Don’t try and fool me, Phillip. You gave me this because you knew Lynette was going to be at the party. And then you had Brant dance with me so she’d see who you’d brought as your partner. And to top things off, you tell everyone we’re engaged and leave me high and dry to field all sorts of questions.”

He looked thoroughly shamefaced and embarrassed. “I really am sorry. I didn’t mean for it to go so far.”

She was nowhere near ready to forgive him. Not after what she’d been through. “And yesterday? What happened to coming to the art exhibition with me?”

He swallowed hard as he leaned back in his wheelchair. “I’m sorry. I just wasn’t up to going out.” Then he looked confused. “Didn’t Brant take you? He said he would.”

“Yes, but I’d rather have gone by myself,” she said sourly, preferring not to think about how much she’d enjoyed herself. She had to remember Brant could charm any woman into having a good time.

A speculative look came into Phillip’s eyes. “Are you upset because I didn’t go? Or because Brant did?”

Kia tensed, then forced herself to relax. “It’s awkward spending time with one’s boss,” she said, avoiding a direct answer.

“You don’t mind spending time with me.”

She shrugged. “You’re different.”

“Look, if there’s something between you two—”

Somehow she managed to hide her panic. “Don’t be an idiot, Phillip. And, by the way, what’s the deal about my security alarm? I don’t remember giving either of you permission to put one in my place.”

Phillip frowned, falling for the diversion. “It was the only thing to do, seeing you’re my … er … fiancée. Brant would have been suspicious otherwise.”

Her teeth set on edge. “Engaged or not, I am not some feeble female who can’t take care of myself,” she said with more bravado than she’d felt the other night after the robbery. “And if Brant thinks he—”

“So this is about Brant?” Phillip said, pushing his wheelchair back from the desk, looking very much the all-knowing male now that the heat had been taken off him.

She realized she’d given too much away. “Phillip, will you stop this. I don’t know what’s come over you today.”