Ruthless Contract

Cover Page

Excerpt

About The Author

Title Page

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Copyright

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Why not?” he murmured in a husky undertone. “I thought it might bring back a few memories. It certainly brought back a few for me.” His lips twisted in an arrogant smile. “You always were a passionate little thing.”

A rush of red-hot anger replaced the warm feelings inside her, and she pulled away from him. “And you always were full of yourself,” she snapped. “For your information, I hated every moment of that kiss.”

“You do surprise me,” he drawled lazily, then placed a finger against his lips as she looked ready to explode. “Shh! Don’t wake the girls.”

Abbie took a step back from him, her gaze moving over the laughing gleam in his eyes. That kiss had been just a joke to him. “I hate you, Greg Prescott…I just hate you.”

KATHRYN ROSS

was born in Zambia, Africa, where her parents happened to live at that time. Educated in Ireland and England, she now lives in a village near Blackpool, Lancashire. Kathryn is a professional beauty therapist but writing is her first love. As a child she wrote adventure stories and at thirteen was editor of her school magazine. Happily, ten writing years later Designed With Love was accepted by Harlequin. A romantic Sagittarian, she loves traveling to exotic locations.

Ruthless Contract

Kathryn Ross

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CHAPTER ONE

LIFE never went as you expected it to, Abigail reflected as she looked down from the plane at the skyscrapers of New York.

Jenny and Mike had been so happy, had had so much to live for. For a moment her eyes blurred with tears and swiftly she searched in her bag for a tissue. She wasn’t going to cry any more, she told herself fiercely. She had already cried enough tears to last a lifetime.

She could still hardly take in the fact that her beautiful sister was dead, that she would never see her or Mike again.

The pilot’s voice interrupted her thoughts as he told them that they would soon be landing at JFK and that the local time was five-thirty in the afternoon…

A frisson of nerves started to twist inside Abbie as she thought about seeing Greg Prescott again.

It was five years since she had last seen him. It felt like a lifetime ago. It had taken her a long time to get over the havoc that man had wrought in her life. Even now at the oddest times she found herself thinking about him, thinking what a fool he had made of her.

The plane touched down smoothly and the long flight from London to New York was over. Abigail didn’t move immediately; she waited until the majority of passengers had gathered up their belongings and were filing down the aisle before she even unfastened her seatbelt.

Then calmly she opened her handbag and took out a small compact to check her appearance.

Her blue eyes were slightly shadowed, reflecting the fact that she hadn’t been sleeping well recently, and her skin was very pale. With a sigh she reapplied dark pink lipstick and then ran a hand through her long blonde hair to fluff it up. She wanted to look completely composed when she saw Greg.

She had been surprised when he had written to her and told her she could stay with him instead of at a hotel, and she had been even more surprised when he had offered to pick her up at the airport.

She had wanted to refuse both offers. The thought of having to spend any time in that man’s company was completely abhorrent. It was only the thought of the children that had made her write a stiff letter of acceptance.

Poor little Daisy and Rachel. She bit down sharply on her lip as she thought about the twins. It was quite frankly just the thought of the children that had kept her going over these last few days. She had every intention of taking them home to England with her. They needed her and she was going to be there for them.

Swiftly she rose to her feet, a look of determination on her young face. She was going to have to face Greg Prescott now and forget their past history.

It seemed to take forever to clear immigration. Even though you no longer needed a visa to visit the States, the authorities were hot on who was coming in and, more importantly, when they were going to leave.

Abigail was thankful that she had heeded Charles’s advice and booked her return flight in advance. She could always add the children on from this side once she had cleared everything with Greg.

Her heart thumped nervously as she picked up her bag and walked through the barriers. Her eyes ran searchingly along the sea of faces waiting at the other side. At first she couldn’t see anyone she recognised and she wondered for a brief second if he just hadn’t bothered to come.

She pushed her trolley around the crowds and headed decisively towards the telephones. She wasn’t going to stand around like an idiot waiting for him, she told herself angrily. If he couldn’t be bothered to be here on time she would make her own arrangements.

It was then that she saw him. He was leaning indolently against a counter to one side of her, just watching her.

Her heart seemed to miss a beat and for a second they could have been the only two people on the planet. The crowds around them, the hustle and the noise just seemed to disappear as she met those dark, deeply disturbing eyes.

He looked different…yet so familiar that her heart leapt crazily. He was still ruggedly handsome, only now the darkness of his hair was flecked with silver at the sides and instead of wearing casual jeans he was dressed in a formal dark suit. He looked every inch the successful lawyer that he was.

He didn’t move towards her immediately, but took his time, his eyes lazily sweeping from the tips of her stilettoheeled shoes over the navy blue suit that clung in a flattering way to the slender curves of her figure, before resting slowly on her face.

Much to her annoyance she felt herself starting to blush and he smiled as he noticed her heightened colour. Only then did he move across to her.

‘Hello, Abbie, it’s been a long time,’ he murmured in that deep drawling tone she remembered so well.

She bit down on the impulse to say, Not long enough. ‘Yes, it has…You haven’t changed.’ It was the only thing she could think of to say to him and it wasn’t strictly true. He had changed and it wasn’t just the silver strands in his hair.

The Greg she had known was good-natured—approachable. This Greg looked harder somehowtougher. An aura of power seemed to encompass him.

She supposed the meteoric rise in his career had contributed to the harsh, uncompromising look of his features. After all, Greg had achieved more in the last few years than most men did in a lifetime. You didn’t climb to the top without ruthless determination.

His lips twisted drily. ‘I’m not sure whether I should take that as a compliment or not.’

‘It was just a casual comment,’ she shrugged, and looked away from him. She knew very well that he was remembering the rather severe words she had spoken last time they had seen each other. ‘Listen, I don’t want to put you out in any way.’ She continued on in a rush. ‘If it would be better for you, I’ll just book myself into a hotel somewhere until we sort things out.’ Her voice was abrasively brisk; she didn’t mean it to sound quite so prickly, but she was very uptight, very uneasy about the whole situation.

He flicked her a glance from eyes that were quite calm. ‘Everything is sorted out,’ he told her in a low, firm voice. ‘I’ve made the necessary arrangements. The funeral is tomorrow.’

A cold shudder ran through her body at those words.

He picked up her bag and marched forward towards the car-park, leaving her no option but to hurry after him.

‘So.’ He stopped by a silver-blue Mercedes and put her luggage in the boot. ‘Did you have a good journey?’

‘It was all right.’ In truth she hadn’t noticed much about the trip; her mind had been too taken up with thoughts of Jenny, worries about the children and, of course, the dread of seeing him again.

She waited until she was seated in the car and he had started the ignition before she asked the question that was burning inside her. ‘How are the children?’

He glanced at her, and for the first time she glimpsed the tired, strained look of grief behind the remote countenance. ‘If you want it in one word, devastated.’

Abbie bit down on her lip and turned over-bright eyes away from him. ‘I just can’t believe it’s happened, Greg, I really can’t. It’s like a bad dream.’

‘You’re telling me.’ Grimly he swung the car out from its space.

They didn’t speak at all until he had hit the freeway and they were headed towards the centre of the city.

‘How’s your mum holding up?’ Abbie turned slightly in her seat to look at him.

‘She’s been very brave. I reckon a lot of it is for the children’s sake.’

‘Is she looking after them?’

‘Yes…she’s moved into my apartment for the time being. She’s coping very well, considering, but it’s taking a lot out of her.’ He raked a distracted hand through the thickness of his hair. ‘Luckily I have a good housekeeper who comes in each day, and I intend to try cutting down on my workload so that I can be at home more, but it’s difficult.’

‘Is that necessary now that I’m here?’ she asked quickly.

He gave a dry laugh. ‘I can’t see you looking after young children.’ He flicked a hard glance at her. ‘You’re hardly the domesticated type.’

Her face burned with anger at that remark. ‘I can assure you that when it comes to my sister’s children I could become any “type” that is necessary.’

He shrugged. ‘But you won’t be here long enough to be much help…will you?’

She let that remark pass in silence.

He turned off at the next junction and was a moment concentrating on the flow of traffic before he spoke again. ‘How’s that boyfriend of yours—what’s his name?’

‘Charles.’ She muttered the name through clenched teeth, knowing that Greg was going to make some kind of sarcastic remark.

‘That’s right, Charles.’ For a moment Greg’s lips twisted in the semblance of a smile. ‘I’m surprised you haven’t married him yet…You considered him quite a catch, if I remember rightly.’ He flicked her a sideways glance. ‘What happened? Didn’t Mummy approve?’

Abigail glared at him. ‘As a matter of fact I get on very well with Charles’s mother,’ she grated furiously.

His lips twisted scornfully. ‘So he just hasn’t asked you yet?’

‘Yes, he’s asked me.’ Abigail was so incensed by the question that she answered without thinking. How dared he ask such personal questions? She wouldn’t dream of asking about his girlfriend. For a moment a picture of Connie Davis flashed vividly into her mind. What had happened to her? she wondered distractedly. There had been a time when she had expected to hear that Greg had married Connie, but the years had passed and he was still single.

‘So you’ve turned the paragon down?’ Greg continued with a wry twist of his lips. ‘Amazing…all that lovely money too.’

Abigail was momentarily speechless at such an outrageous remark. ‘No, I haven’t turned him down,’ she grated heatedly, once she had caught her breath. ‘Not that it is any of your damn business.’

‘So if you haven’t turned him down, then you are engaged to him?’ He darted a glance at her left hand, unperturbed by her angry tone.

‘I’m thinking about it,’ she muttered in a low voice. ‘If you must know, he asked me a few days ago, just before the…accident.’

As she was talking she was wondering why she was telling him this; it was far too personal. She cursed herself for allowing him to get under her skin so easily.

‘Why play games? It’s inevitable that you will marry the guy,’ Greg grated drily.

She shot him an angry look. ‘Nothing is inevitable.’

One eyebrow rose mockingly as he pulled into an underground car-park and a reserved space. ‘The Abigail I know would never turn down the likes of Charles Marsden.’

Greg really hadn’t changed a bit, she thought furiously. He could still bring her to boiling-point with the mere lift of one eyebrow. The man was totally insufferable. How she could ever have imagined herself in love with him was a complete mystery.

‘I can assure you that you don’t know me at all,’ she told him aridly.

Greg’s hard eyes flicked over her beautiful face. ‘On the contrary, I think I know you very well,’ he drawled smoothly, and then his eyes moved down over the soft curves of her body in a blatant appraisal. ‘As well as a man can know a woman.’

Colour rose in her cheeks at the deliberately provocative statement.

He shrugged and reached for the door-handle. ‘Anyway, I hope you find happiness,’ he concluded briskly. ‘My main concern is the happiness of two little girls under my care.’

‘Well, at least we are in agreement about something.’ She got out of the car and their eyes met across its roof.

‘Are we?’ he asked stonily, a dark brooding expression on his lean features.

What was that supposed to mean? she wondered angrily as she waited for him to get her luggage from the trunk of the car. Did he think she didn’t care about her own sister’s children?

She restrained herself from demanding to know what he was implying. The less she spoke to Greg the better, she decided firmly. She was going to have to tread very warily around him and it didn’t help to descend to personal levels.

She followed him towards the elevator and they travelled upwards in silence for a moment. ‘Will the children be awake?’ she asked at last, as curiosity overtook her.

‘They shouldn’t be.’ Greg glanced at his watch. ‘They are usually in bed by seven in the evening, but then again, neither has been sleeping well and they are excited about your arrival.’

When the doors of the elevator opened Greg led her into the type of penthouse apartment that she had only ever seen in top, glossy magazines. Its opulence and its beauty took her breath away.

The lounge was decorated in shades of gold and white; it was modern in design and very large, with a black wrought-iron spiral staircase curving down into one corner. The views from the windows were spectacular.

New York was spread in front of her in glittering array. It was just starting to get dark; the sky had turned to a dusky lilac colour and the skyscrapers were dotted with lights like huge Christmas trees illuminated against the sky.

‘Make yourself at home.’ Greg waved her towards a white leather settee. ‘I’ll just go and find out where everyone is.’

He didn’t have to move far. He had only taken a step towards a door at the far end of the room when it burst open, and two little five-year-olds flung themselves into Abigail’s arms.

‘Aunty Abbie, it’s been awful,’ Rachel sobbed as she was held tightly against Abbie. ‘Mummy and Daddy aren’t coming home any more.’

Abbie met Greg’s eyes across the room, and she was glad of the semi-darkness of the room so that he couldn’t see the sudden tears that shimmered in her eyes.

She crouched lower down and held the girls as if she would never let them go. ‘It’s going to be all right,’ she whispered as she kissed both of them. ‘Everything is going to be all right.’

It was a moment before she noticed that Greg’s mother was standing in the doorway watching them. ‘Hello, Margaret.’ Slowly she straightened.

‘Abbie.’ The older woman came forward and Abbie was shocked to see how she had aged since she had last seen her. Her brown hair was peppered with grey, and her face seemed hollow somehow, her eyes filled with a deep sadness that just tore at Abigail’s heart.

‘I’m so sorry, Margaret.’ Impulsively Abigail moved to embrace the other woman and for a while they just clung to each other in silent grief.

‘Come on, you two.’ Greg’s voice cut into the atmosphere. ‘Let’s lighten things up a bit.’ He strolled across and picked up the twins, one in each arm, as effortlessly as if they were mere babies instead of two sturdy children. ‘For a start-off, you should be in bed. Maybe if you ask Aunty Abbie very nicely, she will come and tuck you in.’

Abbie nodded as the two children looked over at her expectantly.

‘Good—now kiss Grandma goodnight and let’s go.’

He carried them across and they dutifully kissed their grandmother and wished her goodnight.

‘Poor little things,’ Margaret whispered in a broken voice as Greg carried them out. ‘I still can’t believe it.’

Abigail swallowed hard. ‘Greg tells me the funeral is tomorrow?’

Margaret nodded and led the way over to sit down on the settee. ‘I think we will all feel better when that is over with.’

‘Yes. I suppose so.’ Privately Abigail wondered if she would ever feel all right again. Although it was a year since she had last seen her sister, she had always been in close contact with her. Her death would leave a terrible void in her life.

Margaret sighed. ‘Well, it’s good to see you again, Abigail,’ she said warmly. ‘Even if it is in such terrible circumstances.’

‘I just wish I had come over sooner,’ Abigail murmured. ‘What happened, Margaret? I didn’t even know Jenny and Mike were planning a holiday.’

‘It was a spur of the moment thing.’ Margaret seemed to pull herself together with a tremendous effort. ‘It was a weekend break put on by Mike’s boss. They weren’t going to go only…I offered to look after the girls for them.’ For a moment the woman’s voice cracked. ‘To be honest, Abbie, I can’t help blaming myself. If I hadn’t insisted…If only I—’

‘Come on, Mother.’ Greg’s deep voice interrupted the conversation as he came back into the room. ‘We’ve been over and over this. You are not to blame. How on earth could you possibly have known that there would be such a terrible car accident?’

He squeezed his mother’s shoulder on the way past towards the drinks cabinet. ‘Now, how about a stiff drink?’ he asked, as he pulled down the cabinet at the other side of the room.

‘Not for me.’ Margaret shook her head, then looked over at Abbie. ‘Are you hungry, dear? Shall I make you something to eat?’

Abbie shook her head. ‘Thank you, Margaret, but I had something on the plane.’ In actual fact she had barely touched any of the meals on the plane. She seemed to have lost all interest in food recently, and it was starting to show on her already slender figure. ‘I’ll have a drink, though,’ she said, looking over at Greg. ‘Brandy, if you have it.’

‘I’ll make some coffee to go with that.’ Margaret got to her feet.

‘No, really, Margaret…please don’t go to that trouble. I’m fine.’

‘Well, if you are sure…’ She hesitated and looked at Abbie guiltily. ‘Would you think I was very rude if I said I wanted to turn in for the night, Abbie? I’m just exhausted—it’s all these early mornings with the girls.’

‘No, of course not.’ Abbie stood up quickly and kissed Margaret’s cheek. ‘You go and lie down and don’t worry about the girls in the morning. I’ll see to them.’

Margaret nodded gratefully and, with a smile at Greg, she left the room.

Silence descended on the room after she had left.

Abigail glanced at her watch. ‘I’ll just pop in and say goodnight to the girls,’ she murmured. ‘Which is their room, Greg?’

He walked across and put her drink on the coffeetable. ‘Second door on the right. Try not to wake them if they are asleep.’

Abigail glared at the man. ‘Of course I won’t wake them.’ Annoyed at his suggestion, she rose stiffly to her feet without thanking him for the drink and left the room. It was clear Greg thought she was as useful around children as a chocolate teapot.

The girls occupied a pretty twin-bedded room. Obviously every effort had been made to make them feel at home, because lots of their toys lined the shelves and a large dolls’ house occupied an enviable position by the window, looking out over the lights of the city.

A small night-light sent a warm pink glow over the satin covers of the beds and lent a hint of warmth to the children’s skin.

They were nearly asleep, their eyes sleepily drifting as they struggled to stay awake for her.

Abbie sat on the edge of Rachel’s bed and bent to kiss her cheek. ‘All right, darling?’ she whispered softly.

The little girl nodded. ‘We are now,’ she said in a low voice. ‘You will stay, Aunty Abbie? You won’t leave us like Mummy and Daddy?’

Abbie shook her head, her eyes glimmering with tears as she looked at the little girls. They were both so like Jennifer—both had large blue eyes and blonde curls. ‘Certainly not,’ she promised in a husky whisper as she moved to kiss Daisy. ‘Now, get some sleep and I’ll see you in the morning.’

Daisy nodded and then clutched at her aunt’s sleeve. ‘Grandma says that Mummy and Daddy are in heaven now. Do you think that’s where they have gone?’

For a moment Abigail had difficulty in speaking. Her throat felt tight with suppressed tears. ‘Yes, darling, I’m sure that is where they are.’

‘Do you think they are happy?’ Daisy looked up at her woefully, her eyes clouded, her face bleak.

‘Oh, darling!’ Abigail put her arms around her niece and cuddled the little body tightly. How did you explain such cruel facts to a five-year-old? How could you explain something you didn’t understand yourself? ‘I’m sure they miss you as much as you miss them,’ she whispered softly. ‘I’m sure they are watching over you and they very much want you to be happy.’

For a while she just rocked the little girl helplessly in her arms. When she looked down, the child’s eyes were starting to close as she lost the battle against sleep. ‘See you in the morning,’ Abigail whispered softly as she laid her down and kissed her.

For a moment she just stood in the room watching them, her heart aching. They looked so small, so helpless. Abigail wanted fiercely to make everything better for them, to hold them and protect them from further heartache. She vowed there and then that, whatever it took, she would not let them down. Then she crept silently from the room.

‘Are they all right?’ Greg asked as she rejoined him in the lounge.

She nodded. ‘They are drifting off to sleep now.’ She sat down in the chair opposite his and reached for her brandy. Her hand was unsteady as she lifted it to her lips.

For a while there was just silence as Abigail went over and over the grim situation.

She glanced across at Greg and found him watching her closely, a hooded expression in his dark eyes.

What was he thinking? she wondered grimly. Was he as emotionally torn as she was? Somehow it was hard to relate the powerful turmoil that was inside her to him. He gave such an impression of hard control, as if nothing could ruffle him.

She took a deep breath. ‘Margaret looks absolutely shattered,’ she remarked aloud, glad her voice didn’t tremble as much as she had feared.

‘She wasn’t well before all this.’ He sighed. ‘Michael was three years younger than me, but even at thirty-two years of age he was still her baby. I think it will take a long time before the pain of losing him starts to dull.’