Miranda Lee - The Millionaire's Inexperienced Love-Slave

‘I’m sorry,’ she went on, ‘but I have a question which I simply must ask you. You’ll probably think it very rude of me, but I…I need to know.’

‘Know what?’

‘Are you adopted, by any chance?’

Adrian blinked up at her. As a pick-up line, this was a highly original one and very effective. Far better than the old ‘Have we met somewhere before?’

Maybe he’d misread her earlier. Maybe she was bold. But with enough womanly wiles to be subtle in pursuit of what she wanted.

That was one of the reasons he was drawn to brunettes. He’d always found them interesting. And more of a challenge.

Adrian was a man who liked a challenge.

‘No, I’m definitely not,’ he replied, and wondered what she’d do now.

She frowned, her expression bewildered.

‘Are you absolutely sure? I mean…I don’t want to cause trouble, but some parents don’t tell their children they’re adopted. Is there any chance at all that you could be?’

Adrian finally appreciated that she wasn’t trying to pick him up. Her question was genuine, evidenced by the distress in her quite lovely brown eyes.

‘I assure you that I am my parents’ biological child, and I have photos to prove it. Besides,’ he added, ‘my father would never have kept something as important as that from me. He was a real stickler for honesty.’

‘That’s incredible, then,’ she said. ‘Truly incredible.’

‘What is?’ he asked, curious now.

She shook her head. ‘No matter,’ she muttered rather dispiritedly. ‘I’m sorry for bothering you.’

‘No, don’t go,’ he said when she began to turn away. There was a mystery here to solve.

Adrian loved mysteries almost as much as challenges.

‘You can’t leave me up in the air like this. I need to know why you thought I was adopted. Sit down and tell me.’

She glanced worriedly back at her table where she’d left her handbag, along with several shopping bags.

‘Why don’t you get your things and join me for lunch?’ he suggested.

She stared back at him for a long moment. ‘I’m sorry. I…I don’t think I can do that.’

‘Why not?’

Her eyes grew agitated, as did her hands, their wringing action bringing his attention to her wedding and engagement rings.

The realisation that she was married disappointed Adrian more than anything had in a long time.

‘Because your husband wouldn’t like it?’ he said, nodding towards her left hand.

Mentioning her husband seemed to agitate her more.

‘I…I don’t have a husband any more,’ she blurted out. ‘I’m a widow.’

Adrian found it hard to hide his satisfaction at this news.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, and tried to sound sincere.

‘He was killed in an accident. I…I identified his body. I…Oh, God, I…I have to sit down.’

She slumped into the chair opposite him, her pale skin having gone a pasty grey colour.

Adrian hastened to pour her a glass of chilled water from the carafe on the table. She gulped it down, after which she shook her head again.

‘You must think me mad. It’s just that you…you look so much like him.’

‘Like who?’ he said just before the penny dropped.

‘Ray.’

‘Your dead husband.’

‘Yes. The resemblance is uncanny. You…you could be twins.’

‘I see,’ Adrian said. ‘So that’s why you wanted to know if I was adopted.’

‘It…it seemed the only solution.’

‘They say everyone has a double, you know.’

‘Yes, yes, so I’ve heard. That must be the case here. But it was still a shock.’

‘I can imagine.’

‘Actually, now that I see you up close, your features are not exactly the same as Ray’s. Some things are a bit different. I’m just not sure what…’ Her head tipped to one side as she studied his face.

‘How long ago was your husband killed?’ he asked, thinking it had to be recent.

‘Five years.’

Adrian frowned. Five years! And she was grieving still. She must have loved him a lot. Still, it was high time she moved on. She was still young, and very lovely. Very, very lovely, he thought with a familiar prickling in his loins.

‘Ray was killed in a train derailment in the Blue Mountains,’ she explained sadly. ‘Several people died that day.’

‘I remember that. It was very tragic. And preventable, if I recall rightly.’

‘Yes. The train was going too fast for the conditions of the track.’

‘I’m very sorry for your loss. Did you and your husband have any children?’ She looked old enough to have had children. In her late twenties, or maybe thirty.

‘What? No,’ she said a bit brusquely. ‘No, we didn’t. Look, I…I think I’d better get back to my own table. I’m sorry to have bothered you. Thank you for the water.’

Adrian extended his right hand over the table towards her before she could escape.

‘My name is Adrian Palmer,’ he introduced himself. ‘I’m an only child, son of Dr Arthur Palmer, general practitioner, now deceased, and Mrs May Palmer, one-time nurse, long retired. I’m thirty-six years old, unmarried and a successful architect. I designed this building.’

She stared at his outstretched hand, then up at his face. ‘Why are you telling me all this?’

‘So that I won’t be a stranger. That is why you refused to have lunch with me, isn’t it?’

SHARNI didn’t know what to say. Because her refusal to have lunch with Adrian had nothing to do with his being a stranger.

‘Oh, I see,’ he said knowingly, his hand dropping back to the table. ‘It’s because I remind you too much of your husband.’

‘Yes,’ she choked out. And it wasn’t just his looks. She still could not forget the way he’d swept his hair back from his forehead. Not to mention the way he walked, with long, loose-limbed strides.

Just like Ray.

‘Is that such a bad thing?’ he asked gently.

‘Well, no, I guess not…’

‘Now that you’re over the shock of our physical similarities, I’m sure you can see lots of differences.’

His voice was certainly different. Ray had had a rather strong Australian accent. This man—this Adrian Palmer—spoke with a voice that betrayed a private-school education. Not plumy, but cultured and refined.

He also had a confident air about him that Ray had never possessed. Her husband had been a quiet, shy man whose emotional neediness had appealed to Sharni’s nurturing nature.

It was ironic, however, that his double was an architect, the profession Ray had always aspired to but which he’d never felt he had the ability to enter. Instead, he’d become a draughtsman.

‘Please don’t say no,’ his double said, and smiled a smile that was totally unlike Ray. It was a seductive smile, showing dazzlingly white teeth and an almost irresistible charm.

Sharni was surprised to find herself wavering. Maybe because, suddenly, he didn’t remind her of Ray at all.

‘It’s only lunch,’ he added, blue eyes twinkling up at her.

Ray’s eyes had rarely twinkled, she recalled. They’d been quiet pools whilst this man’s resembled a sparkling sea.

‘All right,’ she agreed before she could think better of it.

He was up out of his chair in a flash, getting her things before she could hardly draw breath.

‘Been clothes shopping, have we?’ he said breezily as he placed her carrier bags on the spare chair next to her.

‘What? Oh, yes. I…I still have some more to do this afternoon.’

‘Right.’

When he sat back down, he swept his hair back with his hand again, leaving Sharni speechless once more.

He smiled at her across the table. ‘You’d better introduce yourself.’

‘What?’ she said blankly.

‘Your name. Or do you want to remain a mystery woman?’

Sharni gave herself a mental shake. ‘There’s not much mystery about me,’ she said with a small laugh. ‘It’s Sharni. Sharni Johnson.’

‘Sharni,’ he repeated. ‘That’s a most unusual name. But it suits you. Ah, here’s the waiter for our order. Do you know what you want, Sharni, or would you like to take a risk and let me order for you? It’s not too much of a risk, as I’ve eaten here several times before, haven’t I, Roland?’

‘Indeed, you have, Mr Palmer,’ Roland answered.

‘Very well,’ she said, thinking to herself that Adrian Palmer’s confidence bordered on arrogance.

‘You like seafood?’ he asked as he studied the menu.

‘Yes.’

‘What about wine? Do you like white wine?’

‘Yes.’

‘In that case, Roland, we’ll have the steamed bream fillets with side salad, followed by the almond and plum tart. With cream. But first, bring us a bottle of that white I had the other day. You know the one. It’s a Sauvignon Blanc from Margaret River.’

‘Right away, Mr Palmer.’

Sharni had to admire his savoir-faire. It had been a long time since a man had ordered a meal for her with such panache. Ray had been a bit of a waffler when it came to deciding what to order in a restaurant. Making decisions had not been her husband’s forte. That had been her domain.

Or it had once. Sharni’s decision-making capabilities had disintegrated shortly after she’d won the compensation case. It was as though she’d stayed strong whilst she’d sought justice. But the moment the verdict had come down in her favour, she’d gone to mush.

Winning three million dollars compensation had proved to be a hollow victory, because all the money in the world would never make up for the loss of her husband and her beautiful little baby.

Still, life did go on, as Janice kept telling her.

Her sister would have been proud of her for not running away just now. Though she might be suspicious of Sharni’s motives for agreeing to having lunch with Ray’s double. Janice might think she was pretending Ray were still alive, and nothing had changed at all.

That was not the case. This man might look like Ray, but he was nothing like him in personality. The only time she could ever pretend he was Ray was if he didn’t speak. Or if he was asleep.

‘You really designed this building?’ she asked once the waiter departed.

‘I certainly did. Do you like it?’

‘To be honest, I haven’t had a proper look at it. I was walking past on this side of the street, smelt food, realised it was lunch-time and came in for something to eat.’

‘After lunch, I’ll give you the royal tour. I live on one of the upper floors.’

Lord, she thought. What a fast worker!

‘I don’t think so, Mr Palmer.’

‘Adrian,’ he corrected with another of those seductive smiles of his.

Sharni had to confess that she found his attention flattering. She also found him very attractive. Which was only logical. Ray’s looks had been the first thing to attract her. Physically, he’d stood out in a crowd. It wasn’t till she’d talked to him that she’d realised how shy he was.

That had appealed to her at the time. Nowadays, however, she would probably go for a more confident, outgoing kind of man, the kind who would look after her, not the other way around.

But she wasn’t ready yet to leap back into the dating world, especially not with the dead spit of her dead husband. And certainly not with such an accomplished ladies’ man.

Sharni knew a womaniser when she met one.

‘I don’t think so, Adrian,’ she said quite coolly. ‘Lunch is all I agreed to. Take it or leave it.’

He sighed. But it didn’t sound like a defeated sigh. Sharni suspected he was already thinking of another tack to take.