Finding Forever on Their Island Paradise, page 1
“What are you doing?”
She’d kicked off her shoes and was beginning to take off her dungarees. Stopped at his question. “Undressing.”
“Undressing.”
“How else are we going to get cleaned up?”
His mouth opened and closed like he was mouthing the words to a song he knew by heart. He shifted his weight. Put his hands on his hips. Dropped them. Ran a hand over his head.
And she got it.
He was nervous.
“I’m not trying to seduce you,” she said with a soft smile. “We really do need to get cleaned up.”
“I didn’t think you were purposefully seducing me,” he answered darkly. “And I didn’t say I didn’t like it.”
Electricity charged the air.
For a brief moment, she considered electrocution.
But they’d been ignoring their chemistry for a reason since the night she’d fallen asleep at his house. They were working together. Stakes were high enough to put their personal feelings aside. More importantly, they didn’t want to spoil their friendship...
Dear Reader,
South Africa truly is the most beautiful place I know. I am, of course, biased. I’ve been surrounded by gorgeous mountains, idyllic beaches and breathtaking vineyards all my life. By setting my books here, I hope to give you all a taste of a part of the world you might not get to see and a glimpse into the settings that inspire many of the scenes in my books.
I cheated slightly with Penguin Island, but I assure you, it’s all for you. ;-) The fictional setting of Morgan and Elliott’s story is an amalgamation of many different places. Using Boulders Beach as a foundation, one of the only places in the world where you can see the African penguin, I built a paradise that didn’t at all help my characters’ insistence on not falling in love.
The quaint small town of Penguin Island, with its waterfall hideaways and private beaches, is based on real places scattered throughout South Africa. If you can’t make it here someday, I hope through this book you’ll be able to experience the beauty of my country.
And, as always, the joy and hope of two people finding their forever with each other.
Happy reading!
Therese x
Finding Forever on Their Island Paradise
Therese Beharrie
Being an author has always been Therese Beharrie’s dream. But it was only when the corporate world loomed during her final year at university that she realized how soon she wanted that dream to become a reality. So she got serious about her writing, and now she writes the kind of books she wants to see in the world, featuring people who look like her, for a living. When she’s not writing, she’s spending time with her husband and dogs in Cape Town, South Africa. She admits that this is a perfect life and is grateful for it.
Books by Therese Beharrie
Harlequin Romance
Billionaires for Heiresses
Second Chance with Her Billionaire
From Heiress to Mom
Tempted by the Billionaire Next Door
Surprise Baby, Second Chance
Her Festive Flirtation
Island Fling with the Tycoon
Her Twin Baby Secret
Marrying His Runaway Heiress
His Princess by Christmas
Awakened by the CEO’s Kiss
Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com.
For my husband, who’s always given me the gift of love.
For my sons:
You are, and forever will be, enough.
And for my readers:
Please remember that you are always, always worthy.
Praise for Therese Beharrie
“Wonderful! Therese Beharrie has a gift for creating real, evocative and hopeful romances that just make you feel happy. I finished this with a smile on my face. Highly recommended.”
—Goodreads on Her Twin Baby Secret
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
EPILOGUE
EXCERPT FROM THEIR SECOND CHANCE MIRACLE BY SOPHIE PEMBROKE
CHAPTER ONE
‘LIFT YOUR JAW off the floor, darling,’ Morgan Simeon’s grandmother said in a clipped tone. ‘It won’t help us if he thinks you’re attracted to him.’
‘I’m not—’
But Edna had already turned, disappearing into the house at a faster pace than most seventy-year-olds. Edna had been an athlete for years, and her training hadn’t stopped when she’d had kids or grown older. Maybe that had been for this very reason. Edna wanted to run away from her granddaughter after a snarky remark, leaving said granddaughter to deal with a millionaire tycoon who held the fate of a very special wedding in his hands.
Shaking her head, Morgan focused on the millionaire tycoon.
She’d been taken aback the first time she’d seen Elliott Abel. That had been a week ago, when her grandmother had first called Morgan for help. Pictures on the internet had shown her how attractive Elliott was. As were all the many women she’d seen pictured on his arm.
Not that that was relevant.
She didn’t know why she’d expected him to be unattractive. Perhaps because she’d seen the headlines on those news articles written about him before she’d seen him.
Furniture Tycoon Expands ‘Crafted’ Empire!
Elliott Abel: The ‘Crafted’ Furniture Man
From Furniture to Millionaire: the Story of the Everyday ‘Crafted’ Man
They’d really honed in on the furniture thing, which made it seem as if there was nothing else interesting about him. And then she’d seen his picture and wondered why the hell journalists neglected to mention that he was a hot furniture man.
Much hotter in person.
Now he stood at the end of the path leading to her grandmother’s house. Fitted blue jeans, a white T-shirt and matching sneakers adorned his beautiful body. He had a broad chest and shoulders; sculpted biceps; a narrow torso; thick, muscular thighs; and feet that were probably just as attractive.
She’d seen picture of him in suits, tuxedos, but never this casual. Never this...normal. He seemed out of place, yet he was clearly comfortable. If her grandmother had stayed long enough for Morgan to reply, that was what Morgan would have told her.
She hadn’t been staring because she thought him attractive—well, yes, she did, but that didn’t matter. She hadn’t done anything about finding someone attractive in ages, and she wasn’t going to start with the man threatening to ruin her grandmother’s wedding.
No, she had been staring because he seemed so ordinary. But she wouldn’t be fooled into believing that.
‘Mr Abel,’ Morgan said, moving forward. ‘Thank you for meeting with me.’
His gaze fell on her almost lazily. ‘I thought I was meeting Edna.’
His voice was deeper than she’d expected. It didn’t fit the casual look of him. Seemed more appropriate to the bespoke suits of the best quality she’d seen in those pictures.
‘I’m Morgan Simeon. Edna’s granddaughter.’
‘Cavalry.’
It wasn’t a question.
‘Yes,’ she replied softly. ‘And you’ll find that I’m a much fiercer opponent than she.’
His eyes went dark and there was a flicker of...something in their gold and green depths. ‘Your grandmother and her friends have been giving me a hard time from the moment I arrived on the island.’
‘Only because you’re threatening her wedding.’
‘No,’ he said sharply. ‘Not threatening her wedding. Doing the job I was asked to do.’
And there it was. The confirmation to her suspicions.
Elliott Abel, the ‘Crafted’ Furniture Man, was not the ‘son’ in Abel and Son Development. That had been clear from her research. But Morgan hadn’t been able to find out whether Elliott was still invested in his father’s business. Apparently not. He wanted to do what he’d been asked to do and leave as soon as possible.
She could help him with that.
‘Your job will go much quicker if you allow my grandmother to get married at the estate before you start development.’
‘How would delaying construction by a month make things go quicker?’
‘You’d have fewer obstacles.’
‘Obstacles have never stopped me before.’
A light shiver went down her spine. A warning, she thought. This man was used to getting what he wanted.
It wasn’t the first time she had dealt with someone like him. The people who hired her were often drunk on their own power. And by power she meant money. Heaps and heaps of money that made her clients accustomed to the kind of life she would never understand. Including treating those with less money as if they had less value.
‘They will now,’ she assured him. ‘The people here love me. They love my grandmother even more. If we ask them to co-operate with you, they will. And if we don’t...’ She shrugged.
He narrowed his eyes. ‘What are you saying?’
‘I’m saying that if you plan on developing an estate you’ll need construction workers.’ She lifted a finger. ‘People at the harbour to help bring materials onto the island.’ Another finger. ‘Your general day-to-day needs covered: coffee, food...the same for your workers.’ A third, fourth and fifth finger. ‘Not to mention the co-operation of the people who are refusing to move out of the estate.’
‘Everyone’s signed their agreements,’ he said tightly. ‘Most people have already moved out.’
‘Enough people for you to get started,’ she agreed, ‘but not enough for you to finish. I can think of at least four people who haven’t even moved their stuff yet.’
‘Your grandmother and her friends.’
‘Hmm...’ She shoved her hands into her pockets. ‘So—a month?’
He didn’t respond for a while. When he did, his tone was low, easy. But that shiver went down Morgan’s spine again and she braced herself for his rebuttal.
‘I see why your grandmother recruited you. You’re cunning.’ He angled his head slightly. ‘But if I allow this you’ll ask for more. Maybe Edna and her friends will want to remain in their houses. Maybe others will. In the end, we won’t rebuild, and you’ll get everything you want.’
‘Wow. The furniture business must be much more cutthroat than I thought if that’s what you think.’
He lifted his eyebrows but didn’t comment on the fact that she knew who he was.
‘I’m not looking to cheat you, Mr Abel. My grandmother has been planning her wedding for the past year—well before your father announced his intentions for the estate. She only wants a chance to see those plans come to fruition.’
She deserved to, too. After Morgan’s grandfather had died Edna had been crushed. She’d moved to Penguin Island to get away from memories that hurt too much. The move had been meant to be temporary, but Edna had fallen in love with the island. She had worked through her grief, made new friends, and five years ago had met a man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.
Morgan had been young when her grandfather had died, so she didn’t remember him much. But she did remember the summers she’d come to Penguin Island. Her grandmother had taken care of her and her sister and brother, and for a while Morgan hadn’t had to worry about them or her parents. More often than not her parents had gone on their own vacations during those times. When they’d returned, they’d been happier, and there had been more laughter and affection in her house than before.
She owed her grandmother a lot for that reprieve. For helping to create the happiest memories of her childhood. She would do anything to give Edna a measure of that happiness, even if it meant going toe-to-toe with a tycoon.
‘You mean that,’ Elliott stated, his eyes searching her face.
‘I do. And I’d be happy to sign something to that effect.’
Elliott folded his arms. She tried not to notice the way his biceps bulged under his T-shirt. Instead, she focused on the fact that this was the millionaire tycoon she’d been expecting. Not normal or casual, but a man with folded arms, a knitted brow, and beautiful features drawn into hard lines.
Beautiful features?
She ignored that.
‘Delaying things by a month doesn’t work for me,’ he said, his deep voice almost a rumble. ‘I promised I’d ensure things move along smoothly. Delaying is not smooth.’
‘Things are delayed with developments all the time.’
‘Not in my experience.’
‘Which is limited, isn’t it?’
His lips thinned. ‘Yours isn’t?’
‘No, actually. I work with property developers all the time.’ She turned, taking in the estate. ‘In fact, I intend on making sure all the houses look presentable for my grandmother’s wedding. The videographer is—’ She stopped when she realised he wouldn’t care. ‘Look, the houses here can be repaired. Some need more work than others, but they have good bones.’
‘The experts on our team believe differently.’
‘Because it’s in their interest to do so. And to tell your father—a man with ample money, I’m assuming—that he’ll have to knock things down and rebuild them to be profitable.’
‘You don’t think so?’
‘No.’ She paused. ‘And I think the work I want to do will go a long to making your work easier.’
‘You want to renovate these houses before the wedding?’
She laughed. ‘Heavens, no. Although I absolutely could. No,’ she said again, with a shake of her head. ‘I just want the outside of them to look good. If they do, we can take a couple of pictures, put them online, and get some interest for when the estate is ready for...whatever it is you’re planning.’
And to tie her entire proposal up with a neat little bow, she smiled.
* * *
Elliott blinked.
Morgan Simeon... He still couldn’t get the way she’d said her name out of his head. A husky little whisper that had made him feel inappropriate things. And the smile turned her from a moderately attractive woman into a knockout.
No, that wasn’t true. There was nothing ‘moderate’ about her. And it had nothing to do with how she looked.
It was her confidence. Her shrewdness. This woman who’d arranged a meeting under her grandmother’s name had come prepared with a plan that would get her exactly what she wanted. She was the type to always know what she was doing. She was smart, she had a killer smile, and was playing him like a fiddle.
He didn’t like it—even though parts of his body had taken an uncomfortable interest in her.
‘You’re good,’ he said. ‘Better than your grandmother. That’s not an insult,’ he added, when her spine straightened.
‘It sounded like one.’
‘Your grandmother made it personal. You’ve realised it’s business.’
Her smile didn’t fade, but her brown eyes, so open before, went sharp. ‘Is it?’
There was that shrewdness again. It hit him harder than it should have because he hadn’t expected it. She’d obviously looked him up. Knew that the company was his father’s and his brother’s and that he wasn’t a part of it.
Something twisted in his gut, but he ignored it. Easily. After all, he’d been ignoring that twist for a long, long time.
He took a small breath, keeping his gaze on her, because he had a suspicion she’d seen the inhalation for what it was. An attempt at controlling his emotions. An indication of his irritation at her having the upper hand before he’d even arrived. His frustration that he’d been playing catch-up throughout their conversation. His anger that his brother Gio had asked him to take control of this project when he knew this wasn’t Elliott’s area of expertise.
Now Morgan seemed to know it, too.
He didn’t know what he disliked more: the fact that he felt so lost, or that this woman knew it and was using it to her advantage.
There was a shimmer of respect beneath his emotions, he could admit. People rarely went head-to-head with him these days. It was one of the perils of being the person in charge. He had his trusted circle at work. People who would tell him the truth. But even they tried to present honesty softly.
‘Elliott, have you considered that perhaps the warehouse isn’t coping with orders because of our delivery guarantee? Some items take longer than others. It’s just not feasible to have such a short timeframe with the number of orders we get.’
That had been the most recent issue Karlene, his COO, had brought to his attention. She’d been with him since the inception of his company—well, his empire now, he supposed. They’d expanded into most of Africa already, and turnover was ten times more than it had been when they’d first started making a profit.
Who would have thought that custom furniture made of high-quality material and sold at relatively affordable rates would become so successful? He’d hoped, of course, and been determined to make something of himself...to feel capable.
