âNo,â Mike ground out as he carried her from the kitchen in the direction of the bedroom. âThat is not what I want. I just want you, Natalie.â
Natalie didnât say a word as he swept her into the bedroom. She was too busy fighting with the futile hopes that his passionate words evoked in her.
Because he didnât really want her, did he? Not for forever. Just for the time being.
But the time being was exciting, she told herself as he lowered her to the bed.
Enjoy it, Natalie.
And who knew what might happen in the future?
When a wealthy man wants a wife, he doesnât always follow the rules!
Welcome to Miranda Leeâs stunning, sexy new trilogy!
Meet Richard, Reece and Mike, three Sydney millionaires with a missionâthey all want to get marriedâ¦but none wants to fall in love!
Bought: One Bride
Richardâs story:
His money can buy him anything he wantsâ¦and he wants a wife!
The Tycoonâs Trophy Wife
Reeceâs story:
She was everything he wanted in a wifeâ¦till he fell in love with her!
A Scandalous Marriage
Mikeâs story:
He married her for moneyâher beauty was a bonus!
Available only from Harlequin Presents>®
MIKE was grimly silent during the taxi ride from Mascot to his apartment in Glebe. He wasnât at all happy with the way his business trip to the States had turned out, or the course of action heâd rather impulsively decided to take.
But it was too late to change his mind now. He was locked in.
Once home, Mike stripped off the Italian business suit that heâd bought for his meeting with Helsinger and headed for the bathroom. After a shower and shave, he pulled on blue jeans and a T-shirt, then set about cooking himself a decent breakfast. The breakfast theyâd served him on the plane as theyâd approached Sydney hadnât touched his sides.
Mike ate the plate of bacon and eggs out on the sun-drenched balcony, which was north-facing and had a great view of Sydneyâs inner harbour.
The balcony was one of the reasons Mike had bought this particular apartment. Water relaxed him, heâd discovered. He liked nothing better than to sit out here in the evening after a hard dayâs work on the computer, sipping a glass of whisky whilst the water distracted and calmed his mind.
Nothing, however, was going to calm his mind at this moment.
He ate quickly, his aim just to fill his stomach before driving into the city to meet with his best friendâand banker. As Mike scraped the leftovers into the garbage disposal he wondered what Richardâs reaction would be.
Mike suspected heâd be supportive of his rather unconventional decision. Richard might look conservative, but underneath he was anything but. You didnât get to be CEO of an international bank before the age of forty by being meek and mild. Richard had his ruthless side, especially when it came to making money. And as crazy as Mikeâs scheme might sound, if it succeeded, it was going to make both of them very wealthy men.
Five minutes later, Mike slipped on his favourite black leather jacket and headed for the front door. Half an hour later, he was sitting in Richardâs office.
âWhat do you mean you didnât see Helsinger?â Richardâs tone was more confused than angry. âI thought youâd lined that meeting up before you left Sydney.â
âUnfortunately, Chuck was called out of town the day I arrived in LA,â Mike told him. âHe left his apologies. A family emergency.â
âHell, Mike. That was bad luck.â
âNo sweat. I met with his managing director, instead. He assured me Comproware were still very interested in my new anti-virus, anti-spyware program.â
âYes, Iâm sure they are,â Richard said drily. âItâs brilliant.â
Mike wholeheartedly agreed with Richard. It was brilliant, especially the way it could track back to see where the virusâor the spyâcame from, then deliver a counter-strike of its own. Mike had known, right from the first day heâd started work on the ground-breaking program, that his own relatively small, Australian-based software company didnât have the power to do such a product justice. He needed an international company with marketing clout to launch it, worldwide.
After doing some indepth research, heâd come up with Comproware, a relatively new American software company that had great marketing flair, and which also had a reputation for offering generous contracts to the creators of new programs and games, paying royalties instead of a flat sum.
After some not-so-successful negotiating via the internet and the telephone, Mike had flown to Comprowareâs head office in America to meet the owner face to face. Heâd expected to pin Helsinger down to a contract during his two-day stopover. He certainly hadnât expected what had transpired, or the path heâd now set himself upon.