The Millionaire's Proposition

By: Avril Tremayne

(Mills & Boon Modern) (Sydney's Most Eligible_. - Book 2)

‘Now, are we doing the ground rules before or after I get my orgasm?’

‘Before,’ Kate said, any thought of backing away from their agreement obliterated by the heat of his words, the wild rush of desire that bolted through her.

‘Then let’s do it fast. Before I explode.’

The air was thick with lust as she guided him to the dining table, handed him the pages she’d prepared for their signatures.

‘So we’re—what?’ he asked. ‘Signing a contract?’

She nodded. ‘With a contract we’ll both know where we stand, what we can expect. It keeps things uncomplicated.’

Scott laughed, but didn’t refuse, so Kate started running through the clauses. She didn’t even make it through the first one before Scott cut her off.

‘Katie—you want a contract, then a contract it is. But it’s a sex contract—not a prenup or a business merger. And it’s not even legally enforceable, as we both know. So can you just give me the basics? Then I’ll sign—there’s no way I won’t—and we can move on to implementing it. Because if I have to go much longer without touching you I am going to go insane.’


The men everyone is talking about!

Young, rich and gorgeous, Rob, Scott, Brodie and Luke have the world at their feet and women queuing to get between their sheets.

Find out how the past and the present collide for them in this stylish, sexy and glamorous new quartet!

These sexy Sydney tycoons didn’t get to the top by taking the easy way—the only thing they love more than a challenge is a woman who knows her mind!

So let the fireworks begin…!


SCOTT KNIGHT TOOK one look at the redhead standing over at the punchbowl and almost swallowed his tongue.

Tall, confident, beautiful…and dyspeptically cynical, judging by the look on her face. He liked every single thing in that package.

So…exactly what was the pick-up etiquette associated with divorce parties? Were they like funerals—no hitting on attendees unless you wanted to look like a slimeball?

He pondered that while he took another look at the redhead.

Strictly speaking, of course, this was a little more than a divorce party; it was a celebratory segue to Willa’s new committed relationship with Rob. Scott wouldn’t normally have advocated a jump from one hot pan right into another—even when the guy in the second pan was Rob, who was several thousand light years ahead of Willa’s ex, Wayne-the-Pain—but he was suddenly cool with it if it lifted the party out of the funereal stakes and opened the way…

The redhead turned to the punchbowl for another dip. Scott noted that her body was divine. And he stopped worrying about anything other than getting his hands on it.

He headed over to the punchbowl with great purpose, grabbing a beer on the way—punch being way too girly for him. ‘What’s that quote about divorce…?’ he asked, tilting his head towards her—but it was a rhetorical question.

She turned before the words had finished leaving his mouth and a slap of undiluted lust walloped him. She was even better close-up. A scorching mix of opulent looks, with slanted grey eyes, wickedly arched dark auburn brows, regal cheekbones…and a top-lip-heavy mouth painted blistering red.

She didn’t bother answering. Clearly knew she didn’t have to. Knew he was already caught. He could tell by the way she waited, all self-possessed confidence, for him to continue, with the mere hint of a smile on her insanely sexy lips.

‘Jean Kerr, it was,’ he continued. ‘“A lawyer is never entirely comfortable with a friendly divorce, any more than a good mortician wants to finish his job and then have the patient sit up on the table.”’

The sexy lips parted in surprise…and then the corners tilted up, just a little. She looked fascinated. He took that as a sign—a good sign—that his opening conversational gambit had hit the mark. She was with him. Yes!

She took a slow sip of her punch and examined him. Down, up. ‘Are you in the market?’ she asked, and the smokiness of her voice had his libido purring like a tomcat on the hunt.

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