Behind The Proposal novel Chapter 1

"You need to get married," Albert Sanderson said as he considered his grandson carefully. "Just because you got bitten by a shark once, doesn't mean you have to be a shark. Sometimes you've got to be a penguin." It was just another dig at Tom's single status.

"Excuse me?" Tom stilled as his heart hammered in his chest and the hairs on his neck stood up.

"You need to find a good woman and get married," his grandfather commanded in that obstinate tone that usually had everyone doing what he wanted. "Then I'll let you build the resort your way."

Tom narrowed his eyes as he stepped closer to the desk, glancing up at his father who was leaning against the bookcase. "Let me get this straight, you'll let me do it completely my way if I get married?"

"Yes," his father nodded in agreement.

Tom swallowed hard and moistened his lips as he paced the length of the study in his parents' Melbourne mansion. Could he agree to that? His dream was so close he could almost see it, almost feel it. Building and running a major hotel his way had been his goal for a long time, and at the age of thirty-seven, it was finally time to make that happen. But marriage? Really? "Look, I know our motto has always been..."

"No, it will always be about families," his grandfather interrupted, pointing his finger as he sat proudly behind the desk. Even at the age of eighty-eight, his grandfather was indefatigable. He was still the powerful CEO and founder of the Sanderson Hotel chain.

"Our hotels are a place for families to go to relax and escape. For families to reconnect," his father added.

"Yes. But these days families come in all shapes and sizes. There are many families who are choosing not to have kids. What about them?" Tom argued back, unease pounding heavily in his chest. This wasn't how it was meant to be. He wanted a place for adults to go to forget the demands of parenthood, and for those without kids to go and just relax without having someone else's kids disturbing their peace and quiet. If only they'd agree.

"They are all welcome in our hotels," his father continued, trying to prevent another argument.

Tom threw his hands up and shook his head. They were so stuck in the past. "It's time for a change," Tom persisted, planting his hands on his hips - he could be as intimidating as his father and grandfather, "and I intend to bring this company into the twenty-first century."

Being in charge of this new development made Tom's heart race with an excitement he hadn't felt in years. He was in charge. It was his resort. It was only right that he got to do it his way. But getting married? He hadn't seen that coming, and it looked like he had no choice. He had to get married, otherwise it was the end of his vision, at least until he really was in charge - in about thirty years time - when it would be up to him to ensure the renowned Sanderson Hotels continued to be successful.

"It's fine. I'm fine," she assured him as she looked down at the red suitcase that she'd tripped over. Wobbling on her feet, the warm hands held her tightly. She tried to push him away, realising too late that she had blood on her palms and he now had blood stains on his pristine white shirt. "Oh, no! Now look what I've done! I'm so sorry," she gasped, horrified.

"It's nothing, it's just a shirt," he dismissed. Her eyes drifted over the rolled-up shirt sleeves and open collar, up to the gorgeous man in front of her. His dishevelled brown hair and the light dusting of stubble on his strong jaw gave him a sexy, just climbed out of bed look.

She didn't usually cry. But tears started leaking from Sophie's eyes anyway. She didn't know whether it was from jet-lag, embarrassment, his intensity or her exhaustion. This holiday was supposed to be relaxing. So far it was anything but. First, it had been Jasmine waking her up at dawn, then putting all of the toilet paper in the toilet while Sophie had been cleaning up the milk her daughter had spilled all over the bench. Now this. All she needed was sleep. Or a bucket of coffee. Or both.

Before any of that though, she had to clean herself up and apologise to him. That thought had her tears turn into sobs.

"Hey, it's not that bad. We'll get you cleaned up in no time," the man said as his arms wound around her.

Her head rested against his solid chest, covering his white shirt in her tears as well. Once her crying had subsided into deep shaky breaths she stepped back, forcing space between them, absolutely mortified at the state she was in in front of a complete stranger.