The Millionaire Read Online Free PDF Page B

for her that way, to be away from Sydney’s beaches and pools, not having to invent excuses about why she had to stay out of the sun or why she might want to hide her body. And in her grandparents’ comforting embrace, she learnt she didn’t have to hide herself away. She wore clothes that were comfortable in the heat without fearing the looks or stares of strangers. Within the fences of The Plains , she was free to be who she was, to not be afraid or embarrassed.
    Her grandfather’s recent health scare had shocked her to the core. The thought that these two wonderful people, who’d embraced her and shown her compassion and love, should be separated, was unbearable. Her way of saying thanks for his survival was to give her time and her energy to the service that had saved his life.
    And she’d had loads of that enthusiasm and passion – until today. Until she’d failed as a reporter and failed as a volunteer fundraiser. Now, she felt humiliated and small. She’d been scolded like a child by her boss and as a result, every ugly doubt about her ability nagged at her once again, and her much-tested confidence felt as wilted as a flower in a heatwave.
    She really needed wine and chocolate. Or perhaps just wine.
    When the doorbell rang, her stomach growled.
    “Coming,” she called as she grabbed her purse and trudged to the front door. When she yanked it open, she realised the day from hell was about to descend even further.
    Because it was Chris Malone.

Four
    ‡
    I f Ellie’s day had been crazy up until this point, it was now spinning into orbit.
    Chris Malone was standing on her doorstep. Looking tall and tanned, and wearing the same well-worn and sexy outfit she’d seen him in earlier that morning at One Mile Beach. Anyone who said a soft grey T-shirt and worn jeans wasn’t sexy should have their heads read. And even though Ellie was less impressed with him right now than she had been ten hours ago, and really, really trying not to be impressed with him at all, it was still him. Even though he’d been rude and said no, he was still the creative genius she’d admired for years. And that body of his was sending her hormones on dangerously high alert, like an Australian country town on a bushfire day.
    “Hey.” He pushed his sunglasses onto his head and his lips curved ever so slightly into a glimmer of a smile. His eyebrows rose in what some people might interpret as a friendly gesture, but Ellie could see through it. His eyes weren’t smiling. Those sapphire pools of gorgeousness looked as hard as the stone itself. The realisation that he was putting on a performance set Ellie even further on edge.
    “Hello.” She was trying very hard for I-Don’t-Care-Who-Are nonchalance.
    “We didn’t actually properly meet before. I’m Chris Malone.” He held out a hand but Ellie glared at it.
    “Of course you are. And if you’ve tracked me down to my house, like some kind of stalker, you clearly already know who I am.”
    “Yes I do. Ellie Flannery. Nice name. Irish?”
    “Look, let’s cut the small talk. I know why you’re here. You’ve seen the news reports, haven’t you?”
    “Yes.” The pretend smile disappeared.
    “And you’ve come to berate me for it, right?” She crossed her arms and stared up at him. “Well join the bloody club.”
    Chris looked down at her curiously. “Why are you in trouble over it?”
    “Because apparently I’m not half the journalist my friend Bron is, even though she’s given the whole rat race away to have babies.”
    They both heard the squeak of a screen door and turned towards the noise.
    Ellie’s neighbour, Mrs. Dexter, stepped outside and peered in their direction. The old woman had been her neighbour for three years and could talk for Australia. Most times, Ellie didn’t mind a chat and her company, and she really was a lovely old lady, but Ellie so didn’t need to be engaged in a conversation with her right now. Not when she had a Norse god on her