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He froze. She couldn’t even detect any movement from his breathing. His black eyebrows were drawn together, his cobalt eyes dark and fathomless. He was justifiably shaken. Right now she didn’t care. She wanted this night to end.
‘No, I wasn’t. They never gave me the chance to be.’
They were both silent for a moment, then he startled her by reaching out and taking her left hand in his. His thumb stroked over her gold ring.
‘How old are you?’
‘Thirty.’
‘I’ll turn thirty-six in December. You’re not involved with anyone?’
She shook her head warily.
‘No one else is aware of your surrogacy pact?’
A more emphatic shake.
His next words were spoken in a clear, resolute tone. ‘Then as far as everyone’s concerned, Alina, this child is ours.’
Her heart began to thump wildly. He was claiming the baby as his own. Ours. Our baby. She stared at their joined hands and remembered his earlier words. The best solution of all. More than she’d dared hope for. No need for adoption.
‘And it’s credible because you were in Spain at the right time.’ A whisper...barely audible.
Ethan had still been struggling to make sense of it all even as he’d made his declaration. His sister and his best friend had been prepared to lie, even commit fraud, to become parents. He’d have done everything possible to help. They hadn’t asked.
Instead, whatever their original intentions had been, he would now be the father of their child. His tenacious, practical persona, the one that had achieved corporate success, kicked in. He refocused on Alina. He’d give her no choice. She had to accept the optimum scenario he’d envisaged last night.
Her drawn face and drooping eyelids mirrored his own exhaustion. They’d both been bombarded with emotional stress since the accident. Maybe if he carried her into the bedroom they’d sleep peacefully, continue their conversation in the morning. Maybe if he cradled her in his arms they’d find comfort.
Bad idea. He swung his leg off the settee, stretched as he stood. Glanced at his watch.
‘It’s been gruelling for both of us.’ Like a manic rollercoaster. ‘And tomorrow won’t be any easier. This suite has three bedrooms. You can sleep here or I’ll escort you to your hotel.’
‘I’d prefer my hotel.’ She hesitated, bit her lip before resuming doggedly. ‘We weren’t being reckless. We’d have gone straight to the nearest medical facility at the slightest hint of any problem.’
Her eyes begged for understanding, and she held out her hands, palms up, in supplication. ‘I’m not lying. We’d never have risked the baby’s health. Never.’
‘I don’t doubt it.’ He didn’t. They’d concocted a crazy scheme, with holes you could drive a truck through, and yet he found himself believing that with luck on their side they might have succeeded.
He phoned for the hire car. She put her shoes on and went to the bathroom.
A little later Alina stood quietly in the doorway, watching him replace the mugs. For seven years she’d befriended few men, always kept things casual. From the moment they’d met, Ethan James had stirred feelings she tried not to acknowledge. She prayed it was a fleeting thing, caused by her condition. Gone after the birth. Entrusting her shattered heart to anyone would be too great a risk.
So how come that stupid organ was beating faster at the sight of his muscles tensing as he stretched up to the shelf? Why was she gawking at his broad shoulders? Why was she remembering the feel of his hand on her spine?
He turned, as if sensing her presence, smiled reassuringly. She smiled tentatively back. He walked to the door, picking up a laptop bag from the dining table and his jacket on the way.
‘Driver’s waiting. We’ll discuss tomorrow in the car.’
They exited the elevator into an underground car park, where a flashy silver limousine waited. Ethan gave their destination to the chauffeur before joining her on the plush seat. She loved the texture of the soft leather, breathed in its potent aroma, enhanced by her escort’s earthy cologne. The brush of his thigh on hers as he twisted to buckle himself in caused her to shift towards the door.
Talk. Any subject. Anything to distract her thoughts from the vitality of the man by her side.
‘What happens after I’ve seen your doctor? Do I leave?’ she asked, striving for a casual tone.
The glance he gave her was enigmatic. ‘No.’ Removing the computer from the bag at his feet, he placed it on his lap and activated it.
Was he crazy? Her staying would bring embarrassment to his family, cause conflict with his parents. Better she go, returning later in the year. No matter what agreement they made, this baby would be born in Australia.
‘You stay with me. You signed a legal contract to carry and give birth to this child. The purpose of your scheme was to prevent that child from suffering any repercussions from its origin or circumstances. Nothing’s changed.’
Corporate-speak. Direct. Uncompromising.
He turned the laptop, enabling her to see the document displayed. An insane impulse to laugh shook her. It was an application for a marriage licence, with the groom’s details already entered on the left, her name and his address on the right.
She bit back a negative retort. Ethan James didn’t play games. He dealt with every situation shrewdly, sweeping aside opposition with logic and unwavering perseverance. And that was what she was to him—a situation, to be processed with tact and practicality.
He set the laptop aside, turned towards her. She flinched as his hand splayed across her abdomen, sending a warm glow sliding from cell to cell. She couldn’t tear her eyes from his touch.
His voice was honey-smooth, adamant.
‘Alina, the baby you carry is my family. I can’t—I won’t—permit this child to be born illegitimate.’
She sympathised, but he had no idea what he was demanding from her. The warmth faded, replaced by a cold chill. Another hand, so like his, had lain there, eagerly anticipating the movement of an unborn baby. Caring. Sharing. Taken from her with no warning.
Somewhere out in the real world a driver beeped his horn. She sensed Ethan studying her, could imagine his brain churning with arguments to reinforce his demand. For him her full compliance was essential. He’d accept nothing less.
His words might come from an innate sense of duty, but the passion in his voice proclaimed a deep brotherly love. She’d been a willing party to the covert plan to protect the baby’s name. It was as essential now as it had been then. She consigned her memories to the deep pit where they belonged.
‘This explains your interest in my papers. How long is it supposed to last?’ It came out wrong. She hadn’t meant to sound so cold, so detached. She certainly wasn’t prepared for the pained look in his eyes.
‘We’ve got seven months to sort out the future. No one will be surprised if our sudden marriage doesn’t survive long-term.’ His hand left her stomach and cupped her chin. ‘I won’t force you to stay, and I swear you won’t lose from this arrangement.’
He was right—because she’d already lost everything worthwhile. She’d bought a new gold ring because she hadn’t been able to bear the sight or the feel of the original. Wearing it discouraged male attention. He offered a marriage of convenience. No intimacy. No permanency. An expedient arrangement, lasting long enough to convince everyone he was the father.
She couldn’t tell him—couldn’t tell anyone about the darkness. Remembering the past tore her apart. Speaking of it out loud was unthinkable. His way made sense. If they married, his paternity would be undisputed. He’d give this baby the love she was incapable of feeling.
‘You give me your word that I can leave when I decide?’
Being nomadic, with no involvements, was the only way to prevent her life from being devastated again. Last year she’d occasionally been drawn into small-town activities. And she’d connected with Louise and offered her help, completely breaking her basic rules. Look where that had landed her.
‘Yes.’ It was blunt. His body was rigid, his features unreadable.
‘All right. I’ll marry you. When will it be?’ So impersonal, so soulless. Why did that worry her?
‘Tomorrow morning we’ll collect the documents we need from your solicitor for a one o’clock meeting with the celebrant. She’ll check the application, lodge it immediately, and the wedding will be a month later.’
He packed the computer into its bag.
As soon as legally permitted. Eleven years ago it had seemed to her like an eternity to wait.
CHAPTER FOUR
ETHAN CONTINUED TALKING as he unbuckled his seatbelt. ‘I’ll be here at eight-thirty in the morning.’
With a start she realised they’d reached her hotel.
‘I’ll be in the lobby.’
How did you say goodnight to the stranger you’d promised to marry? The day after you’d met? A man you’d never even kissed.
That last thought rattled her, and she tripped alighting from the vehicle. Ethan steadied her with an arm around her waist. She trembled from his touch—or her own agitation. She wasn’t sure which.
‘I’ll see you to your room.’
He guided her through the foyer towards the elevators.
‘It’s quicker to walk up one flight,’ she said, grateful no one else was there. His aroma mingled with hers, filling the space, heightening her already taut nerves.
He followed her into her room, his sharp, narrow-eyed appraisal of the decor rankling. To her dismay she sensed him making mental note of the mundane fixtures and colours. Her accommodation, definitely lower standard than his hotel, faced the rear of an office block. It was simply somewhere to shower and sleep for a few days.
‘It’s clean and comfortable,’ she retorted. ‘It suits my budget. So, if you’ve finished being critical, I’d like to get some sleep.’
‘I’m not judging, Alina. By contacting me you have placed yourself and our child under my protection. That’s the reason you can’t stay here.’
He reached out to her. She stepped back, holding up her hand. She didn’t have the inclination to pack even the few belongings she’d brought for a short stay. In addition, she needed some physical space between them to reinforce mental distance.
‘Not tonight. I’ll check out in the morning.’
His expression disheartened her.
‘Please, Ethan,’ she begged. ‘Give me one night.’
He relented, let out a rough grunt. ‘I’ve been pretty hard on you, haven’t I? No more than on myself, I swear.’
He touched her cheek gently. ‘I’ll see you in the morning. May I have your mobile for a moment?’
He took it and programmed his number in.
‘In case you need to contact me. Sometime tomorrow we’ll transfer your phone to an Australian plan.’ He brushed his lips on her forehead. ‘Sleep well, Alina.’
She locked the door behind him. Leant her brow against it, her mind a fuddled whirlpool of everything they’d said and done, everything they hadn’t, the way he’d looked, smelt and created minute fissures in her defences.
She filled out the breakfast menu, hooked it on the outside door handle, then sank wearily onto the bed, just for a few minutes. Tomorrow she’d need to be focused. Solicitor. Celebrant. Hazily she wondered what else he had planned.
He’d already booked the celebrant, arrogantly confident that she’d accept his proposal. Not that he’d actually asked her. She ought to...
Deep, dreamless sleep claimed her, held her despite the traffic noise. Held her through the alarm’s whirl.
* * *
Ethan rested his head against the seat, staring unseeing at the city buildings on the drive home. He’d wanted to kiss Alina Fletcher. Not the soft-touch goodnight kiss he’d given her prior to leaving, but full mouth-to-mouth contact. Another unexpected jolt to his system, and the reason he’d let her stay at her hotel.
His primal instinct to relocate her and shield her from any adverse action was logical. His nephew or niece—no, his son or daughter—deserved every resource at his command to ensure a safe and healthy start in life. The sexual attraction was another blindsider.
The women he dated would never settle for ‘clean and comfortable’ accommodation in any circumstances. The woman he’d coerced into marrying him was an enigma, hiding more than she revealed.
As he lay on his bed, reliving their conversation, the tight rein he kept on his emotions finally cracked. Images flickered through his brain like a movie screening: the secret signals between him and Louise at strict formal meals with his parents, late-night covert snacks watching clandestine television in his room. Her radiant face when she and Leon had confided they were in love. Boyhood games with his best mate, double-dating in their teens. Standing proudly beside him as best man at their wedding.
The dam broke. The tears flowed for his spontaneous, vibrant sister. For his brother-in-law, friend and confidant. For the beloved couple who would never hold and cherish their child.
He rolled over, buried his face into the pillow. Guttural, heart-wrenching sobs racked his body and soul.
* * *
Alina was already in the lobby when Ethan arrived fifteen minutes early the next morning. Her treacherous senses responded to his lithe movement as he strode across the pavement. She felt skittish, illogically animated, despite the stern talking-to she’d given herself as she’d showered and prepared to leave.
The delivery of her breakfast at seven-thirty had finally awoken her, still fully dressed on top of the bed. Years of routine had enabled her to shower, pack and be settling her account within an hour. Years of self-enforced solitude had her wishing she could hail a cab and run.
Stylishly dressed in tailored grey trousers and a short-sleeved dark green shirt, Ethan was halfway to the reception desk when he veered towards her. Her pulse skipped at the sight of his tanned muscular arms. Her cheeks flamed at the memory of his touch, his oh-so-light kiss on her brow. Had to be hormone madness. She refused to contemplate any alternative explanation.
‘Good morning, Alina. You look refreshed. Sleep well?’
She recoiled from the full impact of the ‘seduction smile’ Louise had mentioned. Quickly recovered.
‘Yes, thank you. I’m ready to go.’ As she bent to collect her suitcase their fingers collided, adrenaline spiked. She jerked hers away at the same moment his body stiffened.
‘Gentleman’s prerogative,’ he murmured, picking up both pieces of luggage.
She walked silently beside him to the street, where a chauffeur waited by the open boot of a limousine—same car, different driver.
‘I’ll programme the car hire number into your phone. Use it whenever you go out alone.’ He glanced at her as he stowed her luggage. Quickly added, ‘I appreciate you’re used to being independent, but since Monday you and our child are my family. I take care of what’s mine.’
For a moment she resented his over-protective attitude, before realising the baby took precedence. As it should. She’d agreed to live the Ethan James lifestyle so she’d have to adapt and conform.
‘I’ll try.’
‘Thank you. We’ll need your solicitor’s address.’ As they drove off towards the harbour tunnel he offered her his mobile. ‘Call his office and arrange to have your papers ready for pick-up.’
‘Already done. He’ll see us when we arrive.’ His surprised expression forced her to explain. More than she’d wanted to. ‘I have his mobile number. He dealt with everything after...I was pathetically incapable of doing anything—couldn’t make decisions, couldn’t think. I...’
‘Was reacting normally to grief.’ His hand covered hers. ‘I understand, Alina.’
‘Um... He’s a good man. His office is my Australian address.’ I shouldn’t find your touch so comforting.
‘It might be expedient to change it to mine. You’ll be living with me at least until next year.’
Living with him yet not together. Next year?
Too many decisions in too short a time.
‘Can I decide later?’ She met his gaze, found mild curiosity not censure.
‘Of course. Speak up if you feel I’m rushing you.’
Like the leader of a stampede. Not an opinion he’d take kindly to.
She stared out of the window as the traffic crawled along, reliving the incident in the lobby. Ethan had been looking down when their fingers touched. Had he noticed she’d removed her ring?
From the stories she’d heard, and the photos she’d seen, she’d formed a vague, admirable image of Louise’s successful brother—had had no interest in knowing anything more. The man at her side was flesh and blood, solid and real. She was learning to gauge the inflections in his voice, to interpret the messages in his expressive blue eyes. Her body involuntarily responded to him. The image had been far safer for her mental stability.
Ethan held back when the solicitor greeted Alina with a hug and soft words, allowing them privacy. The handshake he received was firm, the assessing gaze slightly disconcerting. Was he being compared to her husband? This man knew the full story of her bereavement, had been there for her when... What about the Fletcher family? Where had they been? Where were they now?
He noticed movement at her side as they were led to a small office, arched his neck to confirm the nervous finger ritual. His heart lurched when her features crumpled at the sight of the archive box on the otherwise empty desk. Once they were alone she drew a long breath, before walking forward and lifting the lid with unsteady fingers.
On their return journey Ethan booted up his laptop. His gaze flicked from the screen to the box containing her life history, on the seat between them. Moved to her left hand. To her bare ring finger.
He was acutely aware of the toll the visit had taken on her. Her fumbling through the box’s contents and forced shallow breathing had torn him apart. He still hadn’t finished sorting the personal papers he’d brought from Spain.
Gently taking hold of her wrist, and letting what she held fall back inside, he had closed the lid. ‘Not here. Not now.’
He’d lifted the box from the desk, then linked his fingers with hers. After speaking to her solicitor for a few minutes they’d left.
She hadn’t spoken since she’d introduced him in the office, apart from a mumbled goodbye. Now, as their eyes met, she blinked, swiftly looked away. Primal instinct urged him to dump his laptop on the seat, wrap his arms around her and kiss her till the haunted expression in her eyes changed to—to what? Desire? Passion?
Get real, James. Where the hell is your head?
‘I’m not being very helpful, am I? But I haven’t needed to access them since probate was granted.’
He heard the slight accent in her trembling voice. Caused by deep emotion?
Putting his computer aside, he clasped her slender hands in his. ‘Working hands. Not salon-pampered. Well-cared-for working hands,’ he murmured. ‘Seven years is a long time to be running and hurting. Finding yourself alone and pregnant so soon after you’d finally begun to connect again must have been traumatic, and yet you found the courage to confront me.’
She let out a tiny huff of a laugh. ‘I considered you to be the approachable one in the family. I’d never have been brave enough to tackle your parents alone.’
‘That will not happen,’ he stated forcefully. ‘I won’t allow them to interfere, so we’ll meet them together after the wedding. I have friends who’ll be witnesses. Is there someone you’d like as yours? Family? Friend?’
She had an alluring, pensive air as she pondered his question. Was there anyone? There had to be relatives somewhere.
‘I have no family. My mother left me with her parents when I was four. Never said who my father was. I haven’t heard from her since. Grandma’s cancer was quick and aggressive, the year after I finished school, and Grandpa had a heart attack three months later.’
Soulful violet eyes held his for a long, long moment; resolve flickered there, then glowed.
‘There are a few people I’ve kept in touch with. I’ll have to think.’
Her tension had eased and her voice was steadier. She appeared to have accepted the reality of their situation. His admiration for her grew, along with another indefinable impression.
‘Our next appointment is at one,’ he said hastily, not wanting to dwell on the effect she had on him. ‘So we have plenty of time.’ He released her, reached for his laptop. ‘And I think you are brave enough for anything, Alina Fletcher.’
‘Thank you.’
He was wrong, but Alina accepted his compliment rather than set him straight. He considered her courageous. Would he believe the same if he knew her decisions were driven by the conviction that she’d be unable to feel any maternal bonding ever again?
‘I mean it. Coping with all this must be painful.’
He opened the box.
Excruciating. Like having old wounds ripped open with no anaesthetic. ‘It had to happen sometime.’ And it must be now.
She moved the box closer to her side. ‘I’ll find what we need.’
Her birth certificate and papers relevant to her mother were on the top, where they’d fallen. Nothing heartrending there. She passed them to him, willed her hands not to shake as she dragged a buff envelope from the bottom. She held her breath, forced herself to focus.
Concentrate on the two you need. Ignore the rest.
Icy fingers fisted round her heart. She clenched her teeth as she carefully removed two certificates. Tucking them under her hip, she waited until he’d finished entering information, then filed away the papers he’d used.
‘I’ll do the rest.’ She heard the tremor in her tone, stubbornly persisted, needing to retain some privacy. Needing to keep the walls up and solid. ‘It’s my past.’
He studied her with an intensity that made her insides quiver. ‘If you’re sure?’
She wasn’t. She had no choice. ‘Thank you.’
He settled the computer on her lap, ensuring it was stable. ‘I understand.’ He paused. ‘You haven’t eaten a lot this morning, have you? Fancy an early lunch?’
How could he tell? ‘I had toast and fruit—enough after that lovely meal last night.’ Truth was she’d had to force the food down, and she still wasn’t hungry.
His eyebrows twitched almost imperceptibly. His interest wasn’t for her alone. She let him win.
‘Chicken salad with crusty bread sounds tempting. Will the dining room be open?’
‘We’ll have Room Service.’ He pulled out his mobile.
She tuned him out as she typed names, locations, dates. She recited, They are words, figures, nothing more in her head. Her newly unadorned finger mocked the information she entered.
‘Done,’ he told her. ‘We’ll eat, then deal with the celebrant. Changing your phone supplier has to be done in person, so we’ll combine that with a visit to the jeweller.’
She met the steely resolve in his eyes. He was locking her into her promise. There’d be no reneging allowed.
His mouth curved into a persuasive smile. ‘It won’t be so bad, Alina. You’ll have time to adjust to life with me until the wedding. Any functions I ask you to attend during our marriage will be quiet occasions, with people I trust.’
‘I made a list this morning.’ That was better. Keep the conversation on standard stuff.
This time his eyebrows actually arched. ‘What sort of list?’
‘Things to do. Everyone who’ll have to be notified that I’m relocating. Most of my official stuff goes to Crow’s Nest.’ She couldn’t stop the catch coming into her voice. ‘Louise used to check the mailbox in Barcelona for me sometimes.’
‘We’ll need to arrange for it to be redirected. Do you have a base there?’
‘No, I rented rooms on a casual basis. When I was away the owner stored my stuff for a small fee.’
‘We’ll fly over later, so you can decide what to bring back.’
She gave a short, hollow laugh. He made it sound like a day trip to another state. ‘Hardly worth a trip. There’s just an old suitcase and two plastic boxes.’