Chapter 3 You Are Not Betting

• But breath locked in her throat. Embarrassed at being singled out by Bobby Packer, she angled her chin upwards in automatic defiance. Derek's cousin could project silent intimidation until the sun went down, but she wouldn't allow him to frighten her.
• But that cold gaze made her so uneasy she had to fight a growing tension until the last contestant came onto stage, a lovely nineteen year old blonde who was bound to win the contest with her bright, summery, carefree look.
• Sure enough she did, accepting her prize with a bubbly delight that reinforce the carnival atmosphere.
• "Well, we gave it our best" the elderly woman who'd designed Miya's costume told her when the crowd had filtered away to get good places for the last race, the big one of the day.
• Miya smiled down at her "I'm sorry I didn't do your dress justice".
• "My dear, you wore it superbly. Here they want young and innocent and fresh, a salute to summer. You are sophisticated and stylish ya little bit mysterious, the sort of woman I'm designing for. I didn't expect to win, but even reaching the finals will be very good publicity for me".
• She turned her head as someone came up behind Miya.
• "Hello, Bobby" she said, a note of surprise colouring her tone. "I didn't realize you were back from wherever you've been these past months. I suppose you've got a horse running in the cup?"
• "I have".
• Deep and cool, his voice held a note of unsparing authority that sent little shivers through Miya. She stiffened her spine and tried to look calm and controlled.
• "Is it going to win?"Iris asked.
• "Of course" he said with such calm confidence that Miya wondered if he'd managed to fix the race.
• "What's its name? I'll go and put a bet on it before the tote closes".
• "Morgan".
• "Very appropriate" Iris said dryly. "Thanks so much".
• He said "you haven't introduced us, Iris".
• The older woman looked surprised. "Oh sorry, I assumed you would know each other".
• Reluctantly, Miya turned.
• Her dark eyes clashed with glacial grey ones.
• Bludgeoned by sensation, a bewildering mixture of apprehension and violent awareness, she dragged in a swift breath. She'd seen pictures Derek's cousin,, of course, and during the past few minutes she'd been uncomfortably aware of his coldly measuring gaze, but not even that had prepared her for the potent impact of his brand of male charisma.
• "Miya, this is Bobby Packer" her companion told her. "I'm sure I don't have to tell you anything much about him, he turns up in the media quite often".
• "Not of my own voilition" he said crisply.
• "No one could call you a publicity hound" she conceded. "Bobby, meet Miya Martins, who should have won the prize up there".
• "Indeed she should" Bobby's tone produced an unfamiliar meltdown in Miya's spine. He took the hand she automatically extended, his fingers closing around hers. "You were robbed".
• "I don't think so" His touch set off strident alarm within her. And when she spoke her voice was pitched too low and sounded far too impressed.
• A little too hastily she added, "The winner was just what they were looking for a holiday spirit. And she wore her clothes very well".
• He said smoothly"do you plan to watch the next race?"
• Before Miya had a chance to come up with some excuse, her companion said" of course we do, but first I'm going to but a bet on your horse" Purposefully she started off towards the tote.
• "You're not betting?"Bobby Packer commented when Miya made no attempt to follow her.
• "No"
• He said"let me stake you, barring accidents, my horse will win".
• "It's all right, thank you" she said, warily conscious of the interested glances they were attracting. "What about you? Don't you want to put some money on your horse?"
• "I've already done that" he told her, flashing her a killer smile that curled her toes inside the impractical, beautiful shoes she was wearing. "Though as he's the favourite, he won't pay much" without altering his tone he said" you're a friend of my cousin's, I believe. Derek Packer".
• "Yes" she said neutrally.
• Derek had told her all about his older cousin, inadvertently revealing that his open admiration of Bobby had a thread of chagrin running through it.
• Standing beside the man, every cell in her body humming, Miya could understand Derek's reaction; it would take a very sercure young man to keep his confidence intact against such formidable competition.
• Bobby had been a billionaire before he reached thirty, Derek had told her enviously. "His parents left him a controlling stake in one of New Zealand's most progressive companies as well as a hefty inheritance that gave him a damned good start on his quest for world domination".
• Then he'd given her a charmingly rueful smile. "But the real secret of his success is his drive and truly impressive brilliance, plus an uncanny knack for spotting trends".
• He paused, then finished significantly" And his ruthlessness. He's a bad man to cross".
• Wishing she'd gone with Iris, Miya pretended to examine the crowd. Instinct warned her that Derek had been right. Formidable determination was as much a part of of Bobby Packer as his height and his broad shoulders and his arrogantly handsome face.
• No wonder he was a hit with women. Derek hadn't been quite so open about that aspect of his cousin, but Miya had read some interesting gossip.
• And now she believed it all. He was well, overwhelming was about the only word that came to mind. And although he seemed pleasant enough, his glance held more cool assessment than admiration.
• Feeling a chill, Miya glanced up to see if a cloud had swallowed the sun. She straightened her spine and matched Bobby's assessing gaze.
• He said "I gather you're a model?"
• If Derek had talked at all about her, Bobby must know perfectly well that she wasn't.
• "Far from it" she returned. "Iris's established her new salon next to where I work, and when her model let her down she talked me into this because I'm almost the same size and colouring". She gave him a carefully bland smile.
• "As soon soon as she gets back we'll promenade around so more people can see the outfit".
• And then she was going. Apart from feeling absurdly conspicuous, her feet were killing her.