Page 1 of Winning Offer


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Chapter One

Harper Franks twirled the pink paper parasol inside her now empty glass as Liam Black flirted with her near the dance floor of the Black Pearl Nightclub. Damn, he was sexy. Blond hunks weren’t her usual type, but this man was sculptured perfection. That he towered over everyone else in the club and made her feel small in stature only increased her awareness of him.

Her lashes fluttered closed. She’d bet he’d be able to hold her one-handed against the wall while he fucked her and used his other hand to play with her body. Heat surged between her thighs and she resisted moaning at the images filling her head.

Shit. She needed to stop thinking about him in that way.

Her sole purpose for being here was to check out the auction from afar and ascertain if the men who bid on the women really were wealthy beyond compare. Not that she’d been able to go into the actual function room where the auction was being held, but it’d been enough for her to discreetly watch the men from afar as they’d arrived for the event.

They’d exuded wealth as they’d rocked up in their sports cars and designer suits, flashing their gold watches and polished shoes while showing off their perfect hairstyles and gleaming white teeth along with their auras of invulnerability. It wasn’t until her stare at latched onto a sheikh—they were notoriously generous—and she’d done a quick google search of him to discover he was filthy rich, that she comprehended this was a very real opportunity.

Then she overheard a female staff member bragging that the sheikh had come to every auction since its conception, and she knew for sure he was the man she’d try to wow at the next auction.

In the meantime she’d keep renovating her crumbling country home with its eight bedrooms and thirty-five acre parcel of land. That it was heavily mortgaged was the only reason she was here now figuring out her future.

She intended to agist horses on the land whilst renovating what would become her dream bed and breakfast, but she needed finances to do that and, in the present economy, no bank would even look at her.

She pushed her shoulders back, determination filling her from the inside out. The auction would change all that. She’d do whatever was needed to live the dream she and her father had shared.

That her favorite charity would also benefit was just an added incentive.

Her father would be proud of her initiative.

But first she had to convince whoever bid on her to invest in her property. Preferably the sheikh. She’d need to study what Sheikh Korian liked in his women so she knew how to dress and act accordingly.

She’d bait the hook, she only hoped he’d reel her in.

The club’s loud techno music muted in her mind as she sank deeper into introspection, dreaming of her future. She’d fix the land first, clear away all the lantana and other weeds, then divide the acreage into small paddocks with railed fencing and basic shelters for horses. That the property was less than an hour to Sydney, where land was scarce, meant she’d make a decent income from agistment alone.

“Earth to Harper!”

She blinked and smiled at Liam who stood in front of her, his beer in one hand and a drink for her in his other.

He held up the frosty glass. “I thought you might be thirsty.”

A frisson of awareness burned through her. A pity the sheikh she’d set her mind on didn’t look like this Adonis. “Thank you, I am rather parched.”

Liam bent, his hair brushing hers and his voice a caress near her ear. “I hope this isn’t too forward, but from the moment I saw you all I wanted was to strip off your clothes and possess your body.”

A hot shiver skated through her and she almost groaned aloud at his honesty. She’d never appreciated people who danced around the truth. She liked that Liam was confident and open, and didn’t pretend commitment was a part of his future plans.

But he needed to learn he couldn’t always be the one in control.

She hadn’t yet accepted her drink, and with his hands full and his ability to touch her now impossible, she lifted her arm up and over his shoulder, snaking it behind his neck. “You should be so lucky,” she said softly, cupping the bulge of his erection with her other hand.

His breath hissed simultaneously with hers. Heavens above, he was frigging huge, his cock matching the rest of him. Wetness slicked her thighs and his nostrils flared, as though he scented her arousal.

She released him with a blink of shock, taking her proffered drink with a shaky hand. She sucked on the straw, drinking down the vodka and pineapple juice mix. Heaven only knew she needed some kind of fortification.

He lifted his beer and gulped it down, his eyes gleaming.

The next thing she knew, he was getting rid of their empty drinks, then guiding her away from the bar and its crowd of people, and into a corner of the room where a big, currently unused speaker hid them from view and blocked out much of the noise.

He pushed her against the wall, one of his hands supporting his weight on the wall above her head, the other hand cupping her face as his blue stare darkened like a savage thunderstorm. “Did you enjoying playing with fire?”

She arched a brow, the flash of Technicolor lights making him look as surreal as a phantom and twice as dangerous. She ignored the fleeting knowledge that it only made her wetter for him. “Probably about as much as you enjoyed stoking the flames,” she said huskily.

His eyes flashed. “Why do I get the impression you’re just too good to be true?” he muttered. “And that I should get away from you now before it’s too late.”

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