Page 24 of Return of the Outback Billionaire

‘If you think it’s good enough for the exhibition then it is. I don’t need to see it.’

‘Do I have your permission to show it?’

He nodded curtly.

‘Can I get that in writing? Not that I don’t trust you to keep your word, but the gallery needs the surety.’

‘I’ll sign their form.’

‘Thank you. Would you like to see the photo?’ She had it on her phone. ‘There’s another one too, but I’m not as sure about that one. I’d really like you to look.’

‘I’ll see it on the night, won’t I?’

‘Yes, but...’ He looked up, pinning her with his gaze. ‘Okay, right. It’ll be a happy surprise.’

Stop fussing, Bridie. He’s said yes. What more do you want?

Apart from everything he was willing to give.

The hotel was everything a majestically placed five-star branded establishment should be, with the manager, a majestic example of understated yet reverential welcome, greeting them himself. ‘Mr Blake, of course. And Miss Starr. You’ll be occupying the Bridge Suite.’

This was news to Bridie, and she glanced at Judah for confirmation.

‘It’s bigger,’ he said.

‘Yes, indeed,’ said the manager. ‘Four hundred square metres of premium living space, with two bedrooms, living and dining areas, spa, stunning harbour views from floor-to-ceiling windows, a substantial terrace area and twenty-four-hour concierge.’

‘Looking forward to it,’ she said faintly. Guess being a gazillionaire opened up all sorts of doors, walls, windows and so on.

‘Is there somewhere your artwork needs to go?’ the fellow asked, and yes, yes, there was.

‘I’m expecting someone from the Bridge West Gallery to collect it this afternoon.’

‘But of course, Miss Starr. And will you be keeping it with you until then?’

‘Thank you, yes.’

‘I shall inform you when they arrive. We have the work of some of their artists here in the hotel, although the Bridge Suite, from memory, currently houses a small Olsen and a Noonan.’

She knew one of those names. ‘Lovely.’

‘They are of course available for purchase.’

‘Of course.’

A porter materialised beside them. ‘Andrew, please see Mr Blake, Miss Starr and their belongings to the Bridge Suite,’ the manager said.

Andrew nodded and a few minutes later saw them settled into the most luxurious apartment Bridie had ever been in. ‘How much is all this costing?’

‘No idea,’ said Judah from the terrace area. ‘But it’s on me.’

‘But I said I’d pay. I was the one who invited you here.’

He shrugged, smiled, and suddenly looked inexplicably amused. ‘What’s a Noonan?’

‘No idea.’ But suddenly the amazing view of one of the most famous harbours in the world glittered that little bit brighter. There was so much movement out on the water, what with all the ferries and the boats motoring along and a deep rolling swell beneath them. So many people over near the Opera House, walking, eating at the restaurants that dotted the quay. That stunning view, and the utter indulgence of the spa room and the rest of the suite, almost drew her attention away from Judah, who’d ditched his business blazer and tie but kept the immaculate white shirt beneath. He was busy rolling up his sleeves, and, sure, the harbour view was amazing but nothing could compete with corded forearms, broad palms and long, strong fingers at work.

Maybe his bare chest could compete.

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