An Unlikely Bride for the Billionaire Read Online Free PDF Page A

witch, Mia didn’t kick puppies. She didn’t kick anyone. Except herself—mentally—on a regular basis.
    â€˜Can I come back with Thierry tomorrow and go over all this again?’
    Why hadn’t the groom-to-be been here today ?
    â€˜Yes, of course.’
    Hopefully tomorrow Nora would be back to take over and Mia would be safely ensconced on the reserve’s eastern boundary, communing with weeds.
    Carla glanced at her watch. ‘I promised Thierry I’d meet him for lunch. I have to run.’ She turned to her brother. ‘Dylan...?’ Her voice held a note of warning.
    He raised his hands, palms outwards. ‘I’ll sort everything—I promise. Mia and I will go back to the office and thrash it all out.’
    Mia’s chest clenched. Thrash what out? She didn’t have the authority to thrash anything out.
    She must have looked crestfallen, because Dylan laughed. ‘Buck up, Mia. It’ll be fun.’ He waggled his eyebrows.
    Mia rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t crush the anticipation that flitted through her.
    â€˜I’ll buy you a cup of coffee and a blueberry muffin.’
    His grin could melt an ice queen.
    Lucky, then, that she was made of sterner stuff than ice.
    â€˜You’ll do no such thing.’ She stowed her notepad in her back pocket as they headed back towards the main concourse. ‘Gordon Coulter would be scandalised. All refreshments will be courtesy of Plum Pines.’
    During the last two hours they’d moved from the lily pond back to the office, to pore over brochures, and then outside again to a vacant picnic table, where Carla had declared she wanted to drink in the serenity. Now, with many grateful thanks, Carla moved towards the car park while Mia led Dylan to the Pine Plum’s café.
    He grinned at the cashier, and Mia didn’t blame the woman for blinking as if she’d been temporarily blinded.
    â€˜We’ll have two large cappuccinos and two of those.’ He pointed at the cupcakes sitting beneath a large glass dome before Mia had a chance to speak.
    â€˜You mean to eat two cupcakes and drink two mugs of coffee?’ She tried to keep the acerbity out of her voice.
    â€˜No.’ He spoke slowly as if to a child. ‘One coffee and one cake are yours.’
    Mia glanced at the cashier. ‘Make that one large cappuccino, one pot of tea and one cupcake, thank you. It’s to go on Nora’s events account.’
    Without further ado she led him to a table with an outlook over the duck pond.
    â€˜You’re not hungry?’ he asked.
    She was ravenous, but she’d brought her lunch to work, expecting to be stranded on the eastern boundary, and she hated waste. ‘I’m not hungry,’ she said. It was easier than explaining that in Gordon Coulter’s eyes the events account didn’t extend to buying her any food. ‘Besides, I don’t have much of a sweet tooth.’
    She frowned, unsure why she’d added that last bit.
    For a moment he looked as if he were waging an internal battle with himself, but then he folded his arms on the table and leaned towards her, his eyes dancing. ‘Are you telling me, Mia...?’
    She swallowed at the way he crooned her name, as if it were the sweetest of sweet things.
    â€˜...that you don’t like cake?’
    He said it with wide eyes, as if the very idea was scandalous. He was teasing her again. She resisted the almost alien urge to tease him back.
    â€˜I didn’t say I didn’t like it. It’s just not something I ever find myself craving.’
    His mouth kinked at one corner. Mia did her best to look away.
    â€˜Now I have to discover what it is you do crave.’
    How could he make that sound so suggestive?
    â€˜Cheesecake? Ice cream?’
    She narrowed her eyes. ‘Why do I get the feeling you’re trying to find something to use as a bribe?’
    â€˜Chocolate?’
    Oh. He had her