Behind The Billionaire's Guarded Heart
Falling for her mysterious boss…When Australian heiress April Molyneux is left broken-hearted she heads for a new start in London. Determined to stand on her own two feet, she finds herself working for the reclusive yet sexy billionaire Hugh Bennell.Hugh likes his life and his emotions uncomplicated – but meeting glamorous April changes everything. Hugh doesn’t do relationships, and April wants to keep the independence she’s worked so hard for. But with these sparks flying…resistance might be futile!
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Falling for her mysterious boss...
When Australian heiress April Molyneux is left brokenhearted, she looks for a new start in London. Determined to stand on her own two feet, she finds herself working for the reclusive yet sexy billionaire Hugh Bennell.
Hugh likes his life—and his emotions—uncomplicated, but meeting glamorous April changes everything. Hugh doesn’t do relationships, and April wants to keep the independence she’s worked so hard for. But with these sparks flying...resistance might be futile!
Hugh was still so close. Closer than he’d ever been before.
Tall enough and near enough that he needed to look down at her and she needed to tilt her chin up.
April explored his face. The sharpness of his nose, the thick slash of his eyebrows, the strength of his jaw. This close she could see delicate lines bracketing his lips, a freckle on his cheek, a rogue grey hair among the stubble.
He was studying her, too. His gaze took in her eyes, her cheeks, her nose. Her lips.
There it was.
Not subtle now, nor easily dismissed as imagination as it had been down in his basement apartment. Or every other time they’d been in the same room together.
But it had been there, she realizsed. Since the first time they’d met.
That focus. That...intent.
That heat.
Between them. Within her.
It made her pulse race and caused her to lost in his gaze when he finally wrenched his away from her lips.
Since they’d met his eyes had revealed little. Only enough for her to know, deep in her heart, that he wasn’t as hard and unfeeling as he so steadfastly attempted to be.
RITA® Award–winning author LEAH ASHTON never expected to write books. She grew up reading everything she could lay her hands on—from pony books to the backs of cereal boxes at breakfast. One day she discovered the page-turning, happy-sigh-inducing world of romance novels...and one day, much later, wondered if maybe she could write one, too.
Leah now lives in Perth, Western Australia, and writes happy-ever-afters for heroines who definitely don’t need saving. She has a gorgeous husband, two amazing daughters and the best intentions to plan meals and maintain an effortlessly tidy home. When she’s not writing, Leah loves all-day breakfast, rambling conversations and laughing until she cries. She really hates cucumber. And scary movies. You can visit Leah at www.leah-ashton.com or Facebook.com/leahashtonauthor.
For Jen—who writes beautiful messages in cards,
talks with her hands and giggles at all my jokes. Thank you for all your help with this book, and for your belief in my writing. You’re fabulous, Jen. I miss you.
Contents
THE SUNSET WAS PERFECT—all orange and purple on a backdrop of darkening blue. Just the right number of clouds stretched their tendrils artistically along the horizon.
The beach, however, was not so perfect.
It had been a warm Perth day, so April Molyneux hadn’t been alone in her plans for a beachside picnic dinner. Around her, people congregated about mounds of battered fish and chips on beds of butcher’s paper. Others had picnic baskets, or brown paper takeaway bags, or melting ice cream cones from the pink and white van parked above the sand dunes.
There were beach towels everywhere, body boards bouncing in the waves, children building sandcastles, women power walking along the beach in yoga pants, gossiping at a mile a minute. Then a football team jogged by, shirtless and in matching deep purple shorts.
April wanted to scream. This was not what she’d planned.
This was not a private, romantic, beachside tête-à-tête.
Evan lay sprawled on their picnic blanket, his back turned away from April as he scrolled through his phone.
Today was their wedding anniversary. Three years.
#anniversary #threeyears #love #romance
Right now April felt like dumping the contents of the gourmet picnic box she’d ordered all over his head—sourdough baguettes, cultured butter, artisan cheeses, muscatels and all.
‘Do we have to do this?’ Evan asked, not even looking at her.
‘You mean spend time with your wife on your anniversary?’ Her words were sharp, but April’s throat felt tight.
The sea-breeze whipped her long blonde hair across her eyes, and she tucked it back behind her ears angrily. She sat with her legs curled beneath her, a long pale pink maxi-dress covering her platinum bikini. She stared daggers at Evan’s back. His attention was still concentrated on the screen of his phone.
‘You know that isn’t what I meant.’
She did. But she’d spent weeks leading up to today, posting photos of their wedding to her one point two million followers.
#anniversary #threeyears #love #romance
She’d organised for the Molyneux family jet to take them up north, up past Broome. She’d found the perfect—perfect—private beach. She’d had the stupid picnic box couriered up from Margaret River, and she’d had her assistant organise a gorgeous rainbow mohair picnic blanket, complete with a generous donation to the Molyneux Foundation.
