Stranded For One Scandalous Week (Mills & Boon Modern) (Rebels, Brothers, Billionaires Book 1) Natalie Anderson (that summer book .txt) 📖

Ninety minutes later, he appeared at the door to the study where she was still hiding.

‘Hey, darling.’ He leaned against the doorjamb. ‘Dinner’s ready.’

Merle had spent the afternoon locked back in the study, buried in the boring business papers from his father’s box, keeping calm and carrying on as if nothing drastically life-changing had happened. But Ash hadn’t gone back to his usual routine. He hadn’t appeared at the pool to swim for endless hours. She wished he had. The truth was, she’d realised, she wanted to swim with him.

But now he led her to a beautifully set small table overlooking the pool. It offered spaciousness, room to escape, a stunning view across the bay and an even better view across the table—to him.

Merle gazed down at the vibrantly coloured curry instead. ‘This looks amazing. Thank you.’

She perched, keenly aware of the awkward silence that immediately descended, but she was unable to think of anything to break it. Don’t be pathetic. She chewed, furious at overthinking everything. Why couldn’t she relax? Why couldn’t she shut down that searing, shockingly sexual response?

Merle didn’t have sexual responses to anyone. Why now, with such a known playboy who took nothing and no one seriously? Perhaps that was the problem. Had his reputation sparked a primal response within her subconscious? Had she inherited some genetic predisposition to bounders? She’d always rejected the way her grandmother had labelled her mother—as a foolish woman who’d ‘fallen’ and brought shame on the family by getting pregnant, unmarried and young—yet that lingering burn curled through her as she heard the strident echo of her grandmother’s displeasure.

Stay away from men. You don’t want to make the same mistake as your mother.

Everyone made mistakes. Having sex wasn’t necessarily one of them. Merle knew her mother was brave and loyal and loving. And frankly, it would be nice to have a sexual response to someone some time. Temptation whispered, telling her that an experience with Ash Castle might be perfect, might teach her much, without costing her heart. She desperately needed to stop thinking about any of this. She’d initiate a safe conversation instead. The one topic she had in common with him was her work.

‘Is there anything in particular you would like me to do with the diaries?’ she asked, pleased to have thought of something innocuous to discuss.

‘Diaries?’ He glanced up.

‘Your father’s diaries. I found a few in one of the boxes today.’

His mouth compressed and emotion flared in his eyes. ‘Direct any questions on his things to Leo. He’s the one paying you.’

‘But—’

‘I don’t want to know about it,’ he clipped. ‘As far as I’m concerned you can burn it all.’

Merle focused on her plate, taking a moment to digest his snap.

He sighed heavily. ‘Don’t look at me like that.’

‘I’m not looking at you,’ she answered equably.

‘Exactly.’ He half-laughed, half-groaned and then sighed. ‘Do you really enjoy cataloguing the detritus of people’s meaningless lives?’

Oh, wow, there was some bitterness to unravel there.

‘Yes, I do,’ she said calmly. ‘Archives of all sorts, records of people’s thoughts and experiences, are valuable.’

‘In what possible way?’ he asked as if any valid reason was impossible.

‘It’s the connection to the past, isn’t it? Things tether us, help us learn things about our heritage.’ She hesitated. ‘Sometimes I deal with the records or things other people can’t bear to face yet,’ she said softly. ‘I put them in an order so they’re there when people are ready.’

‘And if they’re not?’

‘I put a date on each box for when the contents will be reassessed. If it’s deemed no longer valuable it goes to a secure facility to be destroyed.’

His lips twisted. ‘That sounds perfect. Make the date tomorrow.’

She shook her head. ‘Not in the protocol, sorry.’

‘There’s a protocol?’

‘Sure,’ she said softly, but firmly. ‘Because these things matter.’

‘They really don’t.’

She held his gaze.

He cocked his head and blinked. ‘You think I’m protesting too much.’

She hesitated. ‘I think strong feelings provoke strong reactions.’

‘Oh, indeed.’ He stared at her for another pregnant moment. ‘You’re assuming that what’s written in those diaries is even true.’

‘Actually, I’m not assuming anything. Of course, a historian would study other sources to confirm if one person’s account of things is true. But I don’t have to worry about that, and discovering dead people’s secrets is something I enjoy.’ She mirrored his cock of the head and blinked back at him. ‘Those of the living too, actually.’

‘Allow me to disappoint you early, darling. I don’t have any secrets. Secrets are never any fun, despite what others will try to tell you. Take that bunker—it’s an unnecessary, expensive monstrosity. And it wasn’t my father’s only secret. Nor was it the biggest in his life, unfortunately.’ Ash coolly reeled off a list. ‘Illegitimate offspring. Hidden bank accounts. Shady dealings.’ His blandness was too studied. ‘And for years I had no idea. It’s amazing how little you can know someone even when you live under the same roof.’ His direct gaze seared through her. ‘Maybe you’ll know him better than I did once you’re done. Or maybe, as I said, you should just burn it all.’

She was curious about him right now, not his father. ‘Everyone has some secrets.’

‘My family life was a family lie,’ he said. ‘Which I hated. So if I’m going to do something, I’m going to do it with full transparency. No secrecy. No shame. No regrets,’ he said with proud finality. ‘That’s why it’s a good thing my half-brother is now in charge of my father’s company, not me. Leo’s the responsible one. He’ll keep an eye out for those employees. Ironic, isn’t it? That the child my father denied for so long is the one willing and able to preserve all he built.’ He glanced down at his steaming curry and then looked back up at her, his expression even more alert than usual. ‘Do you have family treasures of your own?’ he asked. ‘A mountain of old letters and recipe books and chipped china?’

Merle didn’t