The Millionaire's Proposal

‘Trust me.’ His voice dropped seductively, the vibration of the deep tone reaching out to interrupt the usual rhythm of her heart. ‘I promise you won’t forget today.’

Kerry swallowed. She believed him—but somehow she knew, deep to the pit of her soul, it wouldn’t just be the sightseeing she’d remember. And that was a strangely scary thought. Especially when she’d spent so long waiting for a time in her life when she finally had her independence; she’d fought long and hard, worked more hours than she cared to think about, had constantly put the needs of others first. Not that she wanted to change that—but the last thing she needed was to get even temporarily attached to someone who was probably as reliable as an Irish summer.

‘Can I ask you a question?’

He stood tall again, towering over her by a good six inches. ‘Depends.’

‘How many women you meet on planes end up asking you to play tour guide for them?’

‘Regretting asking?’

‘Curious.’

He folded his arms across his chest, mirroring her stance, the simple action accenting the muscles in his forearms and biceps. ‘About how often I do this or why you asked me in the first place?’

‘Yes.’

And why he’d agreed, she supposed. Not that she needed her ego stroked, but she was curious as to why he’d said yes as quickly as he had. He had to be in New York for a reason, didn’t he? Meeting with a publisher? More research for a new book maybe? Someone who’d travelled as much as he had didn’t make a trip just for the sake of it, did they? And if that was the case had he dropped whatever he was doing in favour of spending the day with her?

Because she really wouldn’t want him to think that she’d repay him at the end of it with—or that he was onto some kind of a sure thing or—

‘First up, let’s remember you asked me and not the other way round—though I’d have offered if you’d given me five minutes. Or at the very least pointed you in the general direction of some of my favourite places.’

Kerry opened her mouth.

But Ronan wasn’t done. ‘Secondly, I don’t tend to talk to people on planes much—and any I’ve bothered with have never been a beautiful woman travelling alone, more’s the pity. So, yes—you’re the first one for a guided tour. I’m only human.’

Of all the very many things in there she could have picked to ask questions on, Kerry’s brain could only seem to focus on the one thing: he thought she was beautiful. Really? Not pretty or cute but honest-to-goodness beautiful?

It made her positively glow—a guy like him thinking that. So much for not needing her ego stroked.

‘Thirdly—’ he took a measured breath that expanded his wide chest before continuing with an almost reluctant tone in his voice, as if he wasn’t completely comfortable saying the words ‘—I guess the idea of seeing things through your eyes appealed to me. It’ll do me good to see it from a new perspective—who knows? I might even get a chapter of a book out of it. I’ll even promise to give you an acknowledgement if I do.’

He recovered with a wink. ‘You can thank me later…’

‘Ronan—’ But before she could find anything coherent to say there was a loud greeting from the upper floor of the bus.

‘Ro—my man! C’mon up.’

Ronan grinned, tilting his head right back to throw an answer back. ‘Hey, Johnnie boy—you save us the good seats?’

‘Uh-huh. That your friend?’

‘Yup.’

The younger man whistled. ‘She’s way too good-lookin’ for you, old man—bring her up here so I can steal her away.’

Kerry laughed when the words were accompanied with an exaggerated wink and a beckoning index finger. ‘And that is?’

Ronan cupped her elbow again, guiding her onto the bus as he leaned his head down, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

‘Best tour guide in New York City—just don’t go telling him I said so or he’ll be unbearable.’ He stood taller, voice rising a little. ‘These tours are all about the guides; get a local like John and you’ll get more insight about the city and the best places to go than you ever would from a book.’

Kerry lowered her voice to the same conspiratorial level he’d used. ‘Don’t you know someone who could maybe put it in a book?’

‘Ah-h-h, but these stories aren’t mine to tell— they’re his. And no two tours are ever the same with John. There’s always something new to add or a different joke or something that happened the day before. And that’s what travelling is all about—the people as much as the places. Some places you might forget, but you won’t forget the people you met along the way. Memories Kerry, Kerry Doyle—yours, the people you meet’s— that’s what you’ll have at the end of every trip you take. Moments; snapshots in time, if you like.’

They paused at the bottom of narrow metal stairs leading to the upper deck, where Ronan released her arm and Kerry felt the rush of air-conditioned coolness wash over the heated brand of his touch, creating goose-bumps on her skin. But even though she was aware of it, it was the wistfulness in his voice as he painted the romantic picture that captured her attention most, echoing a need inside her for the kind of moments he’d just described.

‘You really love what you do, don’t you?’

The sigh was silent, but she caught it. What was it that suddenly made him frown? Why did he turn away from her and look up the stairs as if he didn’t want to look her in the eye? And why did she suddenly feel so ridiculously—sad somehow? She really wished she could place a mental finger on whatever it was.

He was quite the mystery.

‘I did.’

Kerry wasn’t completely sure she’d heard him say it, but before she could check a pair of feet appeared on the stairs and an upturned palm was offered her way.

‘Come on up, sweet thing. I have a seat saved specially for you—Ro can just stay down there.’

‘And leave her with you? Don’t think so, pal.’

‘Ro?’ Picking on the nickname she’d previously ignored, she shot an amused glance at Ronan.

‘Don’t even think about adopting it. I can leave you stranded somewhere. Or with Johnnie—he’s famous with the ladies, so if you prefer…’

Placing her hand into John’s, she leaned back a little while walking up the steps. ‘I think I’ll stick with the devil I know.’

She’d always been a sucker for a mystery.

Ronan had spent half a day with her and he still didn’t get her. Not that he’d ever felt the need to place people in boxes so he knew where he stood in the world, but normally he was a good judge— he was worldly-wise, after all. But her he just didn’t get.

For starters he found it hard to believe someone like her didn’t have a load of friends who could’ve gone on holiday with her. Not that everyone could take three months off work to travel round the world, but still. That thought process then led him to wonder what she did that allowed her to take three months off work. She was a little mature for a student taking a gap. He put her early thirties maybe—though she could have passed for younger—but she had a maturity and intelligence to the way she spoke and acted that made him believe she had some life experience under her belt. People over the age of thirty were—calmer, he supposed. They knew what they wanted, were less worried about what people thought, more ‘together’.

And as the day progressed he couldn’t help wondering something else: how she’d managed to stay single when she looked the way she did. Because he wasn’t the only one looking at her as if she were the last female left on the planet, was he?

John flirted outrageously with her during the tour and although Kerry didn’t overly play up to it she hadn’t exactly discouraged him either; laughing that husky laugh of hers, her lips parting to draw in the odd gasp at his audacity when he made innuendos over the tannoy and then blushing adoringly straight after, eyes shining. And it had bugged Ronan, frankly. He didn’t want Johnnie-boy to be the one getting all those reactions.

Almost as if somewhere in his mind Ronan had claimed her as his for the day.

She made a small moaning sound beside him and stretched long, slender legs directly into his line of vision, so he turned his head to watch as she stretched the rest of her body. And had to stifle a groan when his body reacted in a very swift, very male way to what he saw—the woman should wear a warning!

She’d clasped the fingers of one hand around the wrist of the other before lifting her arms above her head and had her head tilted back, eyes closed as she let the sun warm her face. And the combined stretching of legs and arms had arched her spine off the bench, her breasts straining against the snug fit of her azure-blue vest-top.

‘I am so hot.’

Ronan couldn’t help but silently agree.