My Fair Aussie: A Standalone Clean Romance (Millionaire Makeover Romance Book 3) by Jennifer Griffith

Author:Jennifer Griffith [Griffith, Jennifer]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-12-04T16:00:00+00:00

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I lugged all Henry’s clothes from my servants’ quarters bungalow into the guest cottage next door. Both little structures were ensconced beneath giant ferns and bean trees behind the Bainbridge mansion, adjacent and practically sharing a wall. Only a few feet separated his sleeping arrangements from mine.

I tried not to think about that too much as I hung up his borrowed clothing.

I also tried to resist holding the lapel of Henry’s tuxedo from last night up to my face and inhaling that incredible cologne that took me into a twenty-four-hours-back time machine to when Henry entered the parlor of the Pickering mansion and looked at me as if I’d taken his breath away.

Okay, so I didn’t resist that urge very vigorously.

Next, I collected Chachi from the sitter and took her for her walk, after which I video-messaged with Sylvie.

“Hello, little Miss Sylvie. Do you have Mickey ears?”

From her perch on her daddy’s hip in front of the Matterhorn she waved her little fist at me, and all my other cares temporarily melted away.

“Lila!” She couldn’t say Eliza. She held out her new Mickey Mouse ears hat for me to admire. One ear had been chewed to smithereens already. They wouldn’t make it home from the park to her grand-mamma’s in San Jose, that was for sure.

“I love you, Sylvie. See you soon.”

My heart twisted inside me. Anger surged, mixed with pure pity and love for Sylvie. This was why I was taking this risk, foisting Henry onto San Nouveau society. It wasn’t about gadding after some temporary flirtation with a guy I met in the bus station and played makeover on. I couldn’t get distracted by the time machine cologne or the amazing golf skills or the knee-weakening smile.

This was for Sylvie. For her future emotional stability. She was worth any risk—even my heart.

And so, while Henry ate avocado and tropical fruit plates—Mo-No’s dinner of choice every day—and swung the tennis racket, I set up his living quarters in the cottage beside mine and recommitted myself to playing this straight. I refused to get sidetracked by the unaffected, unexpected charm of the king of the bus station.

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