When He Turned Away, Jenna Caught His Arm.

“What would this…this ‘marriage’…entail, exactly?” she asked.

Even through his jacket sleeve, the evocative warmth burrowed into his flesh, causing his skin to tighten and heat. Angling back, he studied her eyes and saw the same charged awareness he felt.

“Being seen together. Buying a ring. Setting a date. Then, when you have the child, we can go our separate ways.”

“Do you really believe we can convince people that our engagement is real?”

“Absolutely.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “Because in business you’re used to bluffing…?”

No, he thought. Because ever since I laid eyes on you again, all I can think about is taking you in my arms and kissing you senseless….

Dear Reader,

How lonely our lives would be without love…the unconditional love of a mother, the support and laughter of a sister or dear friend, the passion and commitment of a life partner—a true soul mate. Sometimes love isn’t so easy to find. For a lucky few, however, love seems to land in their laps—at the most unlikely time, with the most unlikely person. All at once the sky looks brighter and the flowers smell sweeter.

But what if, after finding the one who makes us whole, we lose him again? How much worse is it if he leaves without a word of explanation? That kind of pain is said to heal over time. Does it?

Twelve years ago, the young man Jenna Darley adored disappeared without so much as a note goodbye. When Gage Cameron returns, now incredibly successful and offering to help Jenna fight for custody of her niece after a family tragedy, she’s ready to tell him where to get off. But Jenna comes to discover that true love can survive the toughest of tests. Gage has an even more remarkable lesson to learn—and it begins with trusting himself enough to let go of secrets that could hurt Jenna even more.

I hope you enjoy Baby Bequest.

Best wishes,

Robyn

Baby Bequest
Robyn Grady

ROBYN GRADY

left a fifteen-year career in television production knowing that the time was right to pursue her dream of writing romance. She adores cats, clever movies and spending time with her wonderful husband and their three precious daughters. Living on Australia’s glorious Sunshine Coast, her perfect day includes a beach, a book and no laundry when she gets home.

Robyn loves to hear from readers. You can contact her at www.robyngrady.com.

With thanks to Tony Mansueto

for his expert advice on helicopters.

Melissa Jeglinski, Jennifer Schober and Shana Smith—

thank you all for helping make Baby Bequest my favorite.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Epilogue

One

“If you’re here about my father, you’re too late.” Jenna Darley took time enough to bite back tears and lift her chin. “I buried him two days ago.”

Gage Cameron glanced over from where he was crouching on the lawn, introducing himself to the Darleys’ curious Alsatian. A moment after his ice-gray gaze found hers, his square jaw relaxed with a smile that was supportive and, in spite of it all, faintly seductive.

Unbidden heat curled low in Jenna’s stomach.

Suits worth thousands had replaced the bad-boy jeans he’d worn twelve years ago, but clearly the lone wolf she’d once loved hadn’t vanished completely. Good thing she’d made the choice to grow up. Move on.

Too bad he’d done it first.

With a final ruffle of Shadow’s ears, Gage pushed to his feet. Taller than she remembered, he brushed his large tanned hands and surveyed the extensive manicured grounds of her family’s Sydney home. Not that it belonged to “family” anymore.

Her father, twin sister and brother-in-law were all dead, victims of a freak helicopter crash. Although she’d received the news ten days ago, Jenna still had trouble believing it. Half the time she was crying, or close to it; the other half she felt…numb. The horror was real, yet it wasn’t.

Earlier this week, while she’d sat, dazed, in a lawyer’s office, she’d discovered that her father’s entire estate had been left to her stepmother, a polished middle-aged woman whom everyone adored…everyone but black sheep Jenna.

The nightmare didn’t end there.

Gage sauntered over, the broad ledge of his shoulders moving in a languid, almost predatory roll. When he stopped an arm’s length away, his head tilted and chin tipped lower as if she were somehow broken and he could spare the time to fix her.

“I was tied up in Dubai when I heard,” he said in a rumbling voice that had deepened over the years. “I flew back as soon as I could.”

Jenna twined her arms over her ribs and pressed the sick, empty ache in her stomach. “A waste of your time, I’m afraid.”

Jump on your private jet and fly back to your high-powered lair, she thought. There’s nothing for you here.

His gaze sharpened as if he’d read her mind. Still he persisted. “If there’s anything I can do…”

Her bland expression held. “Thank you. No.”

Nowadays Gage raked in millions the way other men raked up leaves. Although his base was Melbourne, Australia, his soaring success was praised in every medium all over the world. From Paris to Penang, wherever Jenna traveled for her freelance writing, Gage’s rugged good looks, those piercing gray eyes, seemed to find her—today in the unforgettable flesh.

Unfortunately nothing, including status and wealth, could bring back three members of her family she missed so deeply that she couldn’t see this darkness ever lifting. But there was a fourth and final member—her three-month-old niece. It was little Meg that she must concentrate on now.

Anchoring his weight, Gage slid both hands into his trouser pockets. “I’m staying in Sydney for a few weeks.”

Through bleary eyes, Jenna tried to focus. “You have business to conduct?” A few more million to make?

Raw magnetism radiated from his tall and impressive frame while little other than cool detachment shone from the depths of those crystal-cut eyes. So commanding and assured. She could only imagine how ruthless he’d become.

“Your father would want me to make sure you’re all right,” he replied.

Her mask broke.

“You were the housekeeper’s son, Gage. My father gave you a bed, an education, and you left without so much as a goodbye. I’m sorry, but why do you think he would care what you said or did now?”

His eyes narrowed so slightly, so briefly, she wondered if she’d imagined it.

“If I thought it would make a difference,” he said, “I’d tell you.”

She pinned him with a jaded look then turned and sank onto the wooden slats of a nearby garden bench. “Whatever.”

If that sounded dismissive or rude, she simply couldn’t help it. What little energy she had left needed to be spent on one thing and one thing only.

Meg.

Guardianship.

What do I do now?

She was that little girl’s blood, not Leeann Darley. It was wrong that her stepmother should raise Meg, no matter what that stony-faced lawyer or those wills had said. True, these last ten years she’d had no fixed address, and at present she had no legal right to Meg.

She also had no intention of giving up.

Elbows on knees, Jenna gnawed around a thumbnail. When her restless gaze landed on a stick, she picked it up and tossed it for Shadow to fetch while Gage slowly circled her.

“You and your father always locked horns,” he said after a long, considering moment. “Everything was left to his wife, wasn’t it?”

A withering, dizzy sensation ran through her. Everything was right.

But then she studied him more closely. “What was that? A good guess?”

His mouth tilted. “Surely you’ve heard of my sixth sense where finances are concerned.”

She thought it through and had to concede. Of course Gage’s intuition with regard to money matters was well known. Aside from that, it wasn’t unusual for a husband to leave the majority of his worldly goods to his wife, including the family property and everything in it.

A dry eucalyptus leaf dropped into her lap. Jenna covered the leaf in her hand and broke it in her fist. The trees had been saplings when they’d first moved here. It seemed that as they’d grown taller, she’d grown more unhappy until one day she’d simply up and left. The frustration of trying to fit in with a blended family…the deep sense of loss whenever she thought of her mother…What she wouldn’t give to turn back time to when they really had been a family.

But fairy tales were for children. And sometimes even children missed out.

“I don’t care about my father’s possessions,” she said. There were things far more important than money.

“Tell me, Jenna, twelve years on, what do you care about?”

She gazed up into that strongly hewn face, at the faint scar nicking his upper lip. “If I thought it would make a difference,” she quipped, “I’d tell you.”

A lazy grin reflected in his eyes. “Try me.”

God help her, she was tempted.

She was light on friends—hopping from country to country didn’t nurture long-term anything—and she did have an overwhelming urge to confess to someone who knew her background that she’d forgiven her father for remarrying so soon after her mother’s death. It hurt like hell that she’d lost the chance to tell him that she loved him, despite their ongoing feud.

Worse, she would never talk to her sister again, the one person she’d truly trusted. Amy had been more than a sibling, more than a friend. She’d been a part of her. And an important part of her sister lived still.

The inescapable truth spilled out. “I have to fight for her child.”

His eyebrows nudged together and his hands emerged from his pockets. “What did you say?”

Jenna bit the inside of her cheek, but she couldn’t take it back, just as she couldn’t will away the salty trail curling around her chin.

She knocked the tear aside. “These last few days have been…difficult.”

His frown deepened. “What are you talking about? Whose child?”

“Amy has—” She swallowed against the wad of cotton clogging her throat and rephrased. “Amy had a three-month-old.”

He sank down beside her, too close and yet, in other unwelcome ways, not close enough. “He didn’t mention a baby.”

Jenna’s attention caught and she looked at him. “Who didn’t mention a baby?”

His preoccupied gaze blinked back from some distant point. “I mean the newspaper report my second-in-charge passed on. It only cited your father’s widow, yourself and the three passengers who’d flown out to survey a development site.”

She nodded as the details looped their well-worn groove in her brain. “Brad, Amy’s husband, wanted Dad’s opinion on some acreage he was interested in buying. They left at ten in the morning. Meg stayed with my stepmother.”

Jenna had originally booked a flight for her niece’s christening next month and had planned on staying a while. Amy had been so excited. The sisters saw each other regularly, but as Jenna had grown older—particularly now that she was an aunt—it hadn’t seemed nearly enough. But when she’d received news of the accident, she’d boarded the first flight to Sydney.

Before arriving last week, she’d seen photos of her niece. Since the accident, she gazed at them constantly. Her favorite was Meg’s first bright-eyed smile, hugging the panda bear her auntie had sent by Express Mail the day Margaret Jane had been born.

Now that little girl had lost both her parents and was living with a woman who cared more about facials and status symbols than lullabies and kisses good-night. At the funeral, Leeann had mentioned that she and Meg would be flying to San Francisco to visit her aging parents for Christmas; she wasn’t certain when they’d return.

Christmas was only three months away.

Jenna clutched the bench slats at her sides and prayed.

I’ll do anything, give anything. Just help me find a way.

Shadow trotted back and carefully placed the stick at Gage’s polished shoes. He stooped, cast the stick spinning with absentminded skill, then laid an arm along the back of the bench. The heat of his hand radiated near her nape and some crazy, needy part of her almost leant back to absorb it.

“Who has the baby now? Leeann?”

She nodded then forced her mouth to work. “She’s always wanted a child of her own.”

Leeann’s parents had shuffled her off to boarding school at a young age. Jenna and Amy had decided that because Leeann hadn’t felt loved growing up, there was a great gaping hole where her heart ought to be, and Leeann thought a child would fill it. A couple of years back, in her early forties, Leeann had faced the fact she might never conceive—which couldn’t be a bad thing. From what Jenna had sampled of Leeann’s parenting skills, a starving rat would treat its young better.

“Amy told me that Leeann was getting desperate,” Jenna continued. “She’d looked into in vitro fertilization and even adoption.”

After doing a story on an orphanage in the Jiangxi Province last year, Jenna had wanted to adopt every dewy-eyed child there…so vulnerable and innocent. Now there was another orphan in the world.

“She’s the testamentary guardian?”

Jenna’s burning gaze drifted up from her sandals. “My father and Leeann were both named as Meg’s guardians in her parents’ wills.”

“Not you?”

“I guess Amy and Brad thought if they’d ever needed someone to step in, my father was settled here, while I wasn’t in one place long enough to take care of the day-to-day needs of a child.”

“They were right.” When she slid him a look, Gage shrugged. “I’ve seen your byline on travel articles from all over the world. The ones I’ve read were very good.”

The compliment sank in. Perhaps she should thank him, but she didn’t want flattery. What she needed now was a solution.

“Brad had no living relatives,” she continued, peering past the pines to the orchid hothouse her father had loved. “I know they both trusted Dad, and Amy wasn’t the type to hold grudges, not even against Leeann.” Family fractures had been Jenna’s specialty. “But Amy would never have meant for Leeann to take sole responsibility for Meg. No one could’ve foreseen this kind of tragedy—all three gone. If she had, Amy would have known I’d give up everything—” Her rush of words ran dry. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Because I didn’t have a family I was close to?”

Although he’d crushed her heart when he’d left, she scanned his questioning gaze now and found she didn’t want to hurt him. But the truth was too obvious. She pressed her lips together and nodded.

He broke their gaze, threw the stick, and Shadow sped off again. “Have you spoken to a lawyer?”

“My father’s. He said babies are a full-time job, and Leeann has the resources and sense of commitment Meg needs. But he’s being narrow-minded. There’s no reason I couldn’t find work here and settle down.”

“Would you want to?”

Images of Hawaii at sunset and the iridescent greens of Germany in spring clicked like snapshots through her mind, but she pushed them aside. There was no question. She would give it all up tomorrow.

But if Gage had implied that people who moved around somehow lacked a sense of responsibility…“I doubt you’re in a position to cast any stones,” she replied.

He flicked open his jacket button and his deep chest expanded beneath his crisp white shirt as he leant back more. “Oh, I understand a wandering spirit, Jenna. Owning stock in companies across the globe gives me a reason to migrate regularly and often. I don’t like to grow roots.” His approving gaze brushed her cheek. “Neither do you.”

A tingling rush swept over her skin, but she wouldn’t respond based on physical awareness. Instead she fell back on cynical amusement. “Well, who’d have guessed? We’re practically a match made in heaven.”

“Heaven’s a little too tame for us.”

When his eyes crinkled at the corners, a delicious warmth seeped through her veins.

So, after all this time, at their deepest level, they knew each other still. She felt so fragile—so much in need of his strength—she could almost forget the heartache of that summer, fall into those powerful arms and actually forgive him.

A phone rang. Gage slipped the cell from his belt and checked the display. “Excuse me. I’ll be five minutes. Ten tops.”

Letting go of the tension, she inhaled a lungful of pine air and Gage’s frighteningly familiar scent. Then she stood and moved away, leaving Gage to his call.

Her laptop and Internet connection were still open in her father’s study. She’d been about to hit SEND and decline an offer on a story about a chain of bed-and-breakfasts from Tuscany down through to Campania when Shadow had barked and she’d crossed to the French doors. A tall dark stranger had been walking up the path from the arched iron gates. Two disbelieving seconds later she’d realized her visitor was none other than the man she’d fallen in puppy love with after her first year of college.

Jenna passed through those French doors now, crossed the spacious room decorated in forest-green leather and handcrafted oak, then folded herself into the chair set before her laptop. Her gaze settled on the photo her father had kept on his desk—herself and Amy, aged eight, in Cinderella dress-up. Amy, the nurturing one, was fixing Jenna’s lopsided tiara.

Jenna picked up the photo, as she’d done so often these past days. But this time her thoughts drifted back to her visitor.

Gage and his mother had lived in a house next door, which had been supplied by her father. For five years she’d glimpsed her young male neighbor only at a distance. Then she’d come home from college that summer and the brooding ruffian had grown into a man—deep-chested, muscled and sexy in a dangerous way that had left her breathless whenever he’d looked at her with a slanted smile that said he’d noticed her too.

Puppy love. The term was too naive for the wonderfully wicked feelings he’d planted and nurtured within her. Far more explicit phrases came to mind.

The simmer of remembered longing trickled through her bloodstream then swirled and sparked like a lit match down below. But she shrugged off the smoldering sensation. Her father had said Gage wasn’t the type of man a young woman should get involved with.

Jenna rested her forearms on the desk.

Twenty-nine wasn’t so young.

“I managed to end that call sooner than I’d thought.”

Jenna jumped at the deep voice at her back. She swung around and felt her heart beat faster. Gage’s striking silhouette consumed the doorway, eclipsing a good portion of the golden afternoon light.

How many lovers had he had in twelve years? How many times had she secretly wished she’d sampled him herself?

As he moved forward, she tamped down that thought and, after replacing the photo, eased out of her chair.

She searched for something to say. “So, another business deal in the bag?”

“Afraid not. And I won’t lay more chips on that table just yet.” He flicked back his jacket, set his hands low on his hips and took in the room—the wood-paneled walls, the limestone fireplace, the wingchair where she’d once curled up on her father’s lap while he read his botany books and explained the pictures.

“So was Leeann bequeathed the house as well?”

Jenna slid her attention from the chair back to Gage and gave him a wry smile. “Leeann’s been generous enough to let me stay while I’m here. She and Meg are in the penthouse in town.”

“Do you have savings? I presume you won’t starve.”

She might not be wealthy by his standards, but who was? “I haven’t lived off my father since I left college and found my first freelance job overseas.”

He came closer and her center warmed as that lit match flickered and leapt high. It wasn’t the place—certainly not the time—and yet the burning physical response to his being near was automatic, a literal knee-jerk reaction. Did he have that effect on all women? The answer was obvious: no question about it.

“You really don’t care about the business, the house?” he asked, a curious light in his eyes.

That inner warmth wavered and fell away.

“My family, bar one, are gone. No, Gage, I don’t care about the money.”

Landing back in reality, all the pain fresh again in her mind, she crossed to the door. For more reasons than one, it was time to end this reunion.

“Thank you for making the trip. If you don’t mind, I think it’s best you leave now.”

Deep in thought—also ignoring her suggestion—he moved to the desk. “I’ll speak with my lawyer.”

Over a decade on and still he didn’t listen. “I just told you—”

“Not about the money. About your niece.”

She shut her eyes and groaned. “Please don’t.”

The last thing she needed was a Family Court judge bristling over the heavy-handed tactics of a multimillionaire who thought he could buy anyone and anything.

He eased a thigh over one corner of the desk and laced his hands between his long, clearly muscular legs. One dark eyebrow flexed. “What if it means getting custody of your niece?”

“Gage, please. This isn’t a game.”

But the steely look in his eyes said he was very serious.

He picked up a miniature globe and spun the sphere. Asia, Europe, America flew round in a blur of bright colors. “I must say, I’m not wholly convinced you’ll be happy giving up your lifestyle. God knows, I wouldn’t be.”

Self-righteous heat scorched her cheeks. “No problem for you.” Her smile was thin. “Stay single.”

His lips twitched as if she’d said something amusing. “I don’t see marriage as an issue, necessarily.” He set the globe down. “But children need a stable home life.”

“Then I suggest you be extra careful about contraception.”

The air between them condensed and crackled before he grinned and assured her, “Always.”

His hip slid off the desk and he drew up to his full intimidating height while Jenna remembered his mother—wiry hair, vacant expression, a vague smell of whiskey whenever she spoke. If Gage didn’t want the responsibility of having a family, she shouldn’t be surprised. He’d been sorely deprived of role models. Jenna’s own reasons for remaining single were something else entirely.

“We were talking about your niece,” he said in a meaningful tone. “I have a way to get you what you want.”

His cool eyes sparkled and she was reminded again of the lawless rebel she’d once known. Then, as now, he’d rippled with the promise of a thousand possibilities. At seventeen, almost eighteen, she’d been entranced by it.

Feeling that same tug, she leant further back against the doorjamb. “Just so we’re on the same page, kidnapping’s not an option.”

He didn’t crack a smile. “What I propose isn’t completely honest, but it’s far from a federal offence.”

Now she was intrigued.

Weighing the pros and cons, she searched his eyes and finally murmured, “I’m listening.”

“Wherever possible, judges like to comply with last wishes. But you are this baby’s blood relative.”

Her shoulders sagged. She’d been through all that. “Dad’s lawyer said that’s not enough. And the longer Meg stays with Leeann, the less likely the courts will be to uproot her.”

“But if you had a suitable place of your own, as well as the legal brains and money to push forward and make an immediate request…”

She frowned. Waited.

“And…”

“You need a secret weapon,” Gage said, “that will shoot you ahead in the guardianship stakes.”

“A miracle?”

The scar on his top lip curved up. “A husband.”

Two

“You’re suggesting I get married?” Jenna’s hand went to her forehead and she coughed out a laugh, a baffled sound. “I’m sorry. This is taking a moment to absorb but…what would my marrying accomplish?”

Gage’s gaze skimmed her shoulder-length dark-blond hair. The soft curl was pretty, but he preferred her hair long, framing a face he’d remembered as saucy, not tearstained.

“For a start,” he explained, “a marriage license would tell the court that you’re serious about settling down. It would also imply that the child would enjoy the benefits of having a father.”

He’d often wondered how different his life might have been had he known positive paternal guidance. Chances were he wouldn’t be absurdly rich. Then again, he wouldn’t have needed money as a substitute for other, less definable things. Things he’d once wanted to give Jenna but knew now he could never provide.

“Isn’t that rather drastic?” she asked.

Gage inhaled her perfume, a scent that reminded him of crushed berries—wild and sweet—then he cocked his head. “I thought these were drastic times.”

He looked at her expectantly, but her troubled gaze held far more suspicion than hope.

Hell’s fire, the last thing he wanted was Jenna’s distrust, even if he well understood it. Twelve years ago he’d vanished like a thief in the night. The time for excuses was long past. But he’d come here today with a plan to help make it up to her. Oh, not entirely—not even close. But maybe, hopefully, enough.

He had it on good authority that Darley Realty, the residential development company her father had founded twenty-five years ago, was in dire financial straits. Gage also knew that Jenna’s father had intended to change his will; in the event of his death, the vast majority of Raphael’s assets were to pass on to his daughters, not his wife. With Amy gone now, too, Gage had assumed Jenna would be the major beneficiary.

He’d come today to offer to buy Darley Realty for a generous price. He’d wanted a speedy transaction, the idea being Jenna could continue her hassle-free life without learning about the company’s problems and consequently suffering any unnecessary sense of embarrassment or gratitude over his offer. He’d had little doubt that Jenna would accept; her profession was writing, and her life was overseas. But apparently Raphael hadn’t had time to change his will before the accident. And it seemed that Jenna couldn’t care less about the money. After her loss, she had her heart set on one thing and one thing only.

A baby.

Not easy given the circumstances, but he’d learned that almost anything was possible. He’d make it his mission: before he walked away a second time, he would see Jenna happy. He would give her what she wanted most. Then maybe he could close that book—bury that ghost—and at last get on with his life, conscience clear.

She edged toward the middle of the room, hands clasped at her waist. “Say you’re right. Where am I supposed to find this husband?”

He tipped an imaginary hat. “At your service.”

She smiled. “Now you are playing games.”

His earlier years had been about survival, pretending offhanded acceptance when mostly he’d been drowning with weights tied around both feet. These days he called the shots. With every breath, he intended to keep it that way. If Gage Cameron played games, it was only ever by his own rules.

“Will you at least listen to my plan?”

“Fine.” She nodded. “Go ahead.”

“First we’ll make it known to Leeann that we’re reunited lovers.”

Her slim nostrils flared. “First lie.”

Not through any lack of desire on his part. But success was bred through a combination of flexibility, critical timing and restraint of emotion. Now he was a master. Now he always won.

“We’ll announce our engagement,” he went on. “As soon as possible, we’ll marry and file a petition for guardianship of Meg. The judge will see that the baby won’t need to worry financially—”

“Meg wouldn’t need to worry about money with Leeann as a guardian either.”

“You said you’d listen,” he chided.

Given the way her fingers wound around and strangled each other, she might want to slap him for suggesting any part of this. Instead she nodded again and he strolled toward her.

“Our petition,” he continued, “will state that you’re not only a blood relative but are also the mother’s twin sister. We’ll dig up an expert or two who will testify that you’re the natural choice to replace the child’s biological mother. They can list the benefits the baby would enjoy with regard to face as well as scent recognition. As identical twins, yours and Amy’s would be similar.”

Her mouth dropped open. “How on earth do you know about such things?”

“I read it somewhere.” Since he’d known Jenna, the subject of twins had fascinated him. He’d be happy to recite some eye-opening facts he’d mentally filed away regarding studies on twin science; he bet she’d be interested. “Another advantage is age. You’re fifteen years younger than Leeann.”

Her eyebrows knitted. “That sounds like discrimination.”

“Statistics will bear out the probability that you’ll be around longer, which equates to more stability for Meg.”

“More stability,” she murmured, understanding. “I see.”

“Plus you’ll have the unswerving support of a marital partner…a past associate of the family.”

Her eyes glistened, probing his as she soaked it all in. She’d become far more beautiful than he’d ever imagined. In her female prime, she was lush and challenging, unlike the first time when she’d been young, eager and way off-limits. Her father had been right about one thing: his young blood had run hotter, faster, back then. If he hadn’t left that night…

“Why are you doing this?” she asked.

He willed his gaze to track up from the beating hollow of her throat. “You want your niece.”

“I could tell the greengrocer that. He’s not going to propose.”

How to explain?

He tugged an earlobe. “Your father…”

“My father would roll over in his grave at the thought of us marrying. You know that as well as I do.”

The knife twisted in his gut but he didn’t flinch. A poker face was a strategist’s best friend. “When we first knew each other, no doubt. But money changes a lot of things, including people’s opinions.”

“It doesn’t change the past.”

He knew the questions that shone from the depths of her eyes: Why did you leave? Why didn’t you have the decency to tell me?

Would she believe that he’d had no choice? Twelve years ago, for the first time in his life, he’d made the smart choice instead of the rogue one. As a consequence, he’d discovered who he was—who and where he needed to be. Free, alone and reasonably happy. He was wise enough now not to wish for more.

He edged around her unspoken question. “If I’d said goodbye, I wouldn’t have wanted to go.”

God knows, that was true.

Her lips hardened to a flat line. “Here’s a cliché that works. I was young and foolish. I thought you cared. It might be even more foolish to believe that you care to this extent now.”

“You think I’d offer something like this then walk away?”

Her eyes held his. “Yes, I do.”

“I give you my word.”

“Honor was never your strong suit.”

But she was forgetting…once when he could have taken her, a virgin, he’d left her alone. Hell, his mother had come from a nice family too until his father had ripped it out from under her and left her with an addiction as well as an infant she couldn’t care for.

He inhaled deeply.

All that was done with, buried. Dead. Obviously so was this discussion.

“Then I take it your mind is made up,” he stated with a smile that held no offence. When all was said and done, there wasn’t a reason in the world she should trust him. Regrettably it seemed too much had happened and too much time had passed to change that now.

“My deepest condolences on your loss,” he said, “and best of luck with your niece.”

But when he turned away, she caught his arm. Even through his jacket sleeve, the evocative warmth burrowed into his flesh, causing his skin to tighten and heat. Angling back, he studied her red-rimmed eyes and saw the same charged awareness that he felt, as well as thinly veiled fear.

Her throat bobbed on a swallow. “I’m just not certain this is the way.”

“What other way is there? You’ve already said that kidnapping’s out.”

It took a moment for her to return his crooked smile. But he didn’t miss the fine sheen erupting on her hairline.

Finally she blew out a breath and her hold on his arm slid away. “What would this…marriage entail?”

He faced her full on. “Being seen together. Buying a ring. Setting a date.”

“What about your work?” Her eyes dulled with skepticism. “Do you have time for this kind of charade?”

“I do have several important business transactions coming up, but, as I said, I’ll be in Sydney for a few weeks. I’ll try to limit my travel after that to keep the pretence up. And once you have guardianship of the child, and there’s no chance of things unraveling, we can go our separate ways.”

She rubbed her palms down the sides of her jeans. “Do you actually believe we can convince people that our engagement is real?”

“Absolutely.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “Because in business you’re used to bluffing?”

Because since I laid eyes on you again, all I can think about is taking you in my arms and kissing you senseless.

His thoughts might have shown on his face since she blinked several times and a blush crept from her cleavage all the way up the column of her throat.

He rapped his knuckles against his thigh and crossed back to the desk.

One step at a time.

“We’ll need to show the world,” he explained, “that we’ve fallen in love. That we’re committed to each other.”

He collected a silver framed photo next to the globe and clenched his jaw.

What a waste. Amy had been a nice girl; too nice for his tastes. It had always been Jenna who’d caught his interest, the teenager with a wiggle in her walk and a sense of right on her side. Once upon a time he’d honestly hoped they would marry. If only things had been different…

He pushed if onlys from his mind, set the frame down, and met Jenna’s gaze again.

She seemed to be sizing him up. “And what precisely do you get out of all this?”

He merely smiled. “I get to help an old friend.”

“That’s not a very good answer.”

“It’s the only answer I have.”

“You mean it’s the only one you’re prepared to give. Forgive me if I’m a little skeptical of your motives.”

“What other motives could there be?”

She pressed her lips together as if they’d gone dry. “You wouldn’t expect us to…I mean…you’re not thinking that…”

An adrenaline surge threw his heartbeat into a cantor. “You’re asking if we’ll need to embrace…to kiss?”

Make love?

He crossed back and invaded her personal space until her neck arced slowly back. Gazing down into her eyes, he enjoyed a deep stir of desire—the same as long ago, yet somehow deliciously different.

“Jenna, we need to get something out in the open. Two people know when they’re sexually compatible. We were compatible then. We still are now. It would be crazy to deny it. And, yes, we will need to show affection in public. But I won’t take advantage of the situation.”

Naturally he wanted her, but that could only happen if she wanted him, too. And not out of comfort from grieving, or impossible dreams of happy families, but from a mutual hunger that deserved to be satisfied, once…possibly twice. That was the limit. That would be safe.

Calm, mingled with curiosity, washed over her face. “You’re a complicated man, Gage Cameron.”

“That’s where people come unstuck.” He grinned. “I’m easy to work out.”

He imagined his palm sliding down over her curves, his head lowering and insides smoldering as his mouth captured hers. She was frightened, filled with pain and a desperate need for reassurance. How easy it would be to meet her lips and give her some relief.

He bit down and moved away.

Time to go.

“I can get things underway tomorrow,” he said, almost to the door. “I’ll collect you at ten.”

“Gage?”

He turned back.

“I’m not sure I won’t regret this, but…” She hesitated then slowly smiled. “Thank you.”

He nodded and left, the dog trotting at his heels.

When Jenna had what she needed—when there was no question—he would walk away, just as he was walking away now. Because her father had been right. Long term he was bad for her.

Hell, too close for too long, he was bad for anyone.

Three

The next day Jenna accepted Gage’s hand and let him help her out from his black imported coupe onto the sidewalk that surrounded her stepmother’s apartment building. Peering up at the top floor, she sucked in a nervous breath and straightened her conservative, pale blue dress.

She hated conservative. A T-shirt and jeans suited her far better. But denim would look decidedly out of place today alongside Gage’s craftsman-cut suit. Not that his long, powerful legs wouldn’t still look exceptional in faded hip-riding Levi’s. Whenever she’d seen him during that summer long ago, hunched over the open bonnet of his eighties model Ford—his broad, bare back glistening and brown—she’d practically melted.

“We don’t need to do this today.” He placed a warm palm between her shoulder blades. “You can give yourself another day or two.”

His words, and touch, almost melted her now. And after yesterday, when he’d stood so close and had spoken about affection in public and sexual compatibility, she was certain any significant physical contact between them would be as dangerous as ever. Yet, for the sake of authenticity leading up to their “marriage,” he’d made it clear they needed to play, and play well, at being lovers.

So how soon before he brought her close to him? How soon before they kissed?

“After hearing your lawyer’s advice half an hour ago,” she said, forcing herself to focus, “seeing Leeann sooner is definitely better than later.”

He walked in step beside her. “Lance sounded more than optimistic about our chances.”

She clutched her handbag to her chest. Her stomach was a constantly churning ball of nerves. “I’m not sure he bought the reunited lovers story.”

She wasn’t any more certain Leeann would. Jenna loathed being deceived and hated deceiving anyone else. But as Gage had pointed out, these were desperate times. And the next few weeks weren’t to benefit herself but her niece. Despite the guardianship directive, in her heart she knew Amy would have given more than her blessing—she’d have been cheering her on every step of the way.

Gage sent her a lopsided trust me smile that made Jenna’s heart skip a beat. “My lawyer isn’t the one who counts. We need to convince Leeann that we’re serious and she’s in for one hell of a fight if she doesn’t consent to handing Meg over. She’ll back down.”

Jenna wasn’t so sure. “Leeann had three miscarriages early on. I can’t see her simply handing over what she wants more than anything.” She glared straight ahead. “All the better if she thought it hurt me.”

He swung open the building’s pedestrian gate and ushered her through. “Leeann can be a possessive and spiteful woman.”

Curious, she stepped under the bridge of his arm into the neat sandstone courtyard. “I didn’t realize you knew her that well.”

“I know enough.”

Possessive…spiteful. Could he really help her get custody of Meg from Leeann? Jenna knew where her niece belonged, and not purely because she was kin. She’d never liked or trusted Leeann. Her skin crawled to think of Amy’s daughter growing up with a woman who’d reminded her of a prickly, well-dressed praying mantis. She wondered how her father had ever fallen in love with such a woman when her mother had been so sweet and giving—so much like Amy.

They stopped before the building intercom. He gazed down at her, one imperious eyebrow raised. “You ready?”

“No,” she replied. “Are you?”

He grinned, slow and sexy. “I’m looking forward to it.”

While he buzzed, Jenna wrung her purse and told herself to breathe, just breathe. It didn’t help. Would all this subterfuge blow up in her face? Could this hurt her chances with Meg rather than help?

Perhaps she needed more time to think it over.

“Maybe we should have called,” she reasoned, “to let her know we were coming.”

“No. We should let her enjoy the surprise.”

Like the way he’d surprised her yesterday, by showing up unannounced then suggesting they get married? Gage had let her know that he had no intention of finishing what they’d started all those years ago: he didn’t plan to seduce her. A big part of her—the pride-filled part—rejoiced. She’d been a fragile teenager when he’d left her love for him high and dry; she hadn’t thought she would ever recover.

Yet a more reckless side remembered the feel of his hard, hot chest, the way his shadowed jaw had grazed a delicious path along her skin. What would it be like to enjoy the penetrating pleasure of his kiss again? Would it feel different now that they were older?

The intercom clicked and Leeann’s voice purred out. “I’m busy. Come back later.”

Gage leant closer. “Mrs. Darley, this is Gage Cameron. I’m with Jenna. May we come up? We won’t take more than a few minutes of your time.”

A torturous silence stretched out. Jenna imagined her stepmother’s mind spinning at the name from the past, connecting it with “multimillionaire” then wondering why the heck he was troubling her almost two weeks after her husband’s death.

The intercom snapped again. “I really am stretched for time.”

Jenna set her teeth. She was so over Leeann’s lady-of-the-house routine. She’d been over it years ago. Today, for her niece’s sake, she wouldn’t tolerate it.

She spoke directly at the grill. “We’ve come to see Meg.”

Large hands on Jenna’s shoulders tugged her back. Gage’s slight frown said, I’ll handle this. “Mrs. Darley, I’m on a tight schedule, too. We would appreciate a few moments.”

Jenna had all but given up when the door buzzed, and her high-strung nerves loosened a knot. Gage shouldered the jamb and swept Jenna inside the building. At the lift, he punched the up arrow.

Threading his hands before him, he gazed at the light passing down the floors—so cool—while she felt ready to dissolve like a sandcastle smashed by a succession of waves. But this morning, whenever her mind had funneled down into grief-stricken thoughts over losing her father and sister, she’d ordered herself to think only of Meg. More resolute than ever, she did that now.

Beside her, Gage rocked back on his heels. “Why did you cut your hair?”

His question threw her. She looked over at his classically chiseled profile—the straight nose and firm jaw angled up as he watched the lift light blink down.

“I’m sorry,” she stammered, “what did you just say?”

He looked at her, the same way he had yesterday—evaluating, wondering. Dangerous and sultry. “When I left, your hair was a thick wavy river down your back.”

What on earth?

Gathering herself, she forced her eyes away from his and dead ahead. “Most places I stay don’t have dryers. It was difficult to manage.”

“It was beautiful.”

The breath caught in her chest. Was he doing this deliberately—putting her off-guard, now of all times? Or was he setting the mood for their performance in front of Leeann? Either explanation made her less than comfortable. In fact, it made her highly uncomfortable.

She blew a wave off her damp forehead and concentrated on the cold metallic doors. “My hair isn’t important.”

“I liked when you wore it out, wild and tangled.”

“It’s much easier tame and shorter.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him appraise her, from crown to toe, before he peered back at the lift light. “You should let it grow.”

Heat consumed her cheeks. Feeling herself being towed away, Jenna briefly closed her eyes and tried to tamp down images of him curled over her, his hands in her hair—long, short…what did it matter? Making love with Gage would be ecstasy any way it came.

The lift doors whirred open. They stepped inside and traveled to the top floor in simmering silence. The space seemed way too small to accommodate her, him and the electric charge humming between them.

When the lift stopped, she strode out a step ahead then had to tell her heart to quit thumping all over again. Leeann was parked in the doorway of what had been, only a handful of days before, her father’s apartment.

Jenna had always disliked the beauty mark that sat on the steeple of Leeann’s left eyebrow. She detested it more now as that eyebrow lifted along with her stepmother’s intrigued smile.

Leeann spoke to Gage. “Well, you’ve grown up.”

“In every way that counts.” Gage linked an arm around Jenna’s waist and moved them both forward.

Jenna was normally a patient person, but she didn’t want to waste time on pleasantries now. As they crossed the threshold onto white Italian marble surrounded by sumptuous furnishings, as politely as she could, she came right to the point.

“Where’s Meg?”

After closing the door, Leeann led them into the living room that boasted a panoramic view of the glistening blue harbour and majestic giant shells of Sydney’s Opera House. Her father’s portrait hung on the far wall and the bonsai plant her mother had given him the year she’d passed away sat on the wet bar. The leaves were tinged brown.

“You should have called and let me know you were coming,” Leeann explained, her voice saccharine sweet. “The baby’s out, I’m afraid, getting some fresh air with the nanny. She’s a woman with impeccable qualifications and references. Expensive, but my granddaughter deserves the best.”

“So, you’re not caring for Meg yourself?”

Jenna’s gaze snapped over to Gage and she smiled. Good question.

“Given that I don’t have any firsthand experience with infants,” Leeann replied a little stiffly, “I wasn’t too proud to seek assistance.” She brought her hands together, a terminating gesture. “I’d offer you refreshments, but I have an appointment with my lawyer in an hour.”

Jenna’s lip curled at the same kind of dismissal she’d heard from this woman too often in the past. Then she noticed something out of place—a jacket lying over a dining room chair. A heavy jacket…leather. Big.

She moved toward it, assessed the jacket, then Leeann. “Unless his tastes changed radically, this didn’t belong to my father.” It smelled of oil or grease.

Leeann stood very still, as if she were holding her breath. “That belongs to the nanny.”

“Don’t nannies wear pinafores and carry umbrellas?” Jenna asked skeptically.

Leeann manufactured a laugh and patted her blond chignon. “I meant the nanny’s boyfriend.”

Somebody’s boyfriend, Jenna thought, but not the nanny’s. Seemed it hadn’t taken Leeann long to fill her poor father’s shoes.

Her chest constricted.

Or perhaps Leeann had been seeing someone on the side all along.

Leeann swung her attention to Gage. “I presume you made the journey to pay your respects to my husband. A little late for the ceremony, I’m afraid.”

Gage nodded. “Jenna’s father was very generous to me.”

Leeann’s green eyes lowered even as they gleamed. “And to me.”

A weak mewling leaked out from behind a partly closed bedroom door. Jenna stilled, heard it again, then held her stomach. Meg.

A fierce protective instinct surged up and she pushed past Leeann into the room. In the darkened far corner stood a cot, pretty with lace and a hanging mobile of colorful clowns. Tiny fists waved above the mattress and the crying grew louder.

Heart squeezing, Jenna rushed to the cot.

Leaning over the rail, she carefully scooped the baby out and cradled her close. Meg hiccupped out another cry, but her big blue eyes, wet with tears, opened to gaze into Jenna’s. Did the baby recognize her? Did Meg think she was her mother?

For the most part, Leeann had made Meg unavailable for one reason or another, although she had been uncommonly generous the day of the funeral; Jenna had held her niece right through the service and afterward at the wake. But that day Jenna had been in a different zone, barely functioning. Now, however, she felt the connection between them as if she’d been zapped by lightning—strong, bright and formidable.

Tucking Meg close, Jenna breathed in the scent of powder and felt the deep-rooted knowledge of kinship. “It’s okay, sweetie.” As the crying petered out, she smiled softly down as her throat thickened. “You look so much like your mother.”

Behind her, she sensed Gage’s towering presence, then heard the comforting rumble of his voice near her ear. “And her aunt.”

From the rear of the room, Leeann made her excuse. “I’d just put her down and didn’t want her disturbed. I wasn’t sure you’d understand.”

You’re right, Jenna thought. I don’t.

But she kept those comments to herself. Leeann’s explanation might be embarrassingly lame, but Jenna didn’t want anything upsetting the baby again.

In the absence of a challenge, Leeann went on. “She’s sleeping through the night now. Amy used to speak often about what songs Meg liked to hear, the nightlight she preferred left on. Amy might have told you, too, Jenna…over the phone or in a letter.” Her voice crept closer. “When did you say you were heading back overseas?”

Jenna curled a finger around Meg’s silken cheek. “I’m not.”

She smiled at the baby gripping her finger as well as Leeann’s stunned silence. In the past she’d never gotten the upper hand as far as this woman was concerned. That’s why she’d left home so soon after finishing college. No matter the disagreement—bar two—her father had sided with his new wife. He’d valued their marriage, as he’d valued Jenna’s mother until her death. He’d told his daughter he didn’t want any upsets in the family home, then had asked why she couldn’t simply be polite and get along.

Her father couldn’t understand that Leeann had seen his strong-willed daughter as a threat. When they were alone, Leeann had made it clear there was room for only one mistress in the Darley household. The frosty glares, the subtle yet painful barbs…Having been brought up by a quiet and gentle woman, Jenna hadn’t known how to handle a female relationship based on rivalry. In the end, she’d handled it by throwing up her hands and walking away.

But she wouldn’t walk away from this fight.

“Wasn’t there an assignment,” Leeann stammered, “in Italy? You mentioned it at the funeral…”

Gage blocked Leeann’s progress toward Jenna. “She declined that assignment. Although we have talked about visiting Venice during a brief honeymoon.”

Every inch of Jenna glowed warm. Those words were simply part of an act to get Meg and keep her where she belonged. Yet it seemed like only yesterday that she’d gone to sleep dreaming of sharing a honeymoon with Gage. A young and foolish girl’s dream. She had never featured in his bigger plans.

Now Gage was an important man, and pedal-to-the-metal busy.

Why was he helping her?

Ashen-faced, Leeann navigated around Gage and planted herself before Jenna. “Did I hear right? A honeymoon?”

Gage cupped Jenna’s shoulders and his heat radiated through to her very bones. “When Jenna and I met again, the old sparks fired back up.” He looked down at her and smiled. “We’ve wasted so much time, haven’t we, darling?”

His earlier comments about her hair rose in Jenna’s mind. Finding the emotion she needed, she bit that bullet. “When Gage asked me to marry him, I…I knew it was right.” She turned, steadied herself upon facing the solid heat of Gage’s frame, then placed the baby in his arms.

Strong chin tucking in, he held Meg a little away from his broad chest…until the baby gurgled, then he cocked his head, his mouth curved slightly at one corner, and he brought her close.

A tower of a man holding such a tiny life. The picture made Jenna’s heart beat fast. Gage had no intention of fathering children. As he’d said, he valued his freedom too much and a child needed stability. Still, it was a shame that a man who possessed Gage’s more admirable qualities—leadership, intelligence, vision—would never pass those genes on. This situation with herself and Meg would probably be the closest he would come to fatherhood.

A shiver chased up her spine.

Gage could walk away. But, as young as she was, would Meg grow attached?

Would her Aunt Jenna?

Although Leeann was inches shorter than her step-daughter, she managed to look down her long nose at her. “I don’t see a ring on your finger, Jenna.”

Gage directed his smile and attention toward Meg but spoke to Leeann. “That’s where we’re headed next.”

Clearly agitated, Leeann patted her chignon again then moved to pry the baby from Gage’s arms. “Then I suppose you’d best be on your way.”

The baby squirmed, but Leeann propped Meg upright against her shoulder, facing her away from the couple she was obviously seeing more clearly as a threat. When Meg mewled, Leeann rubbed the back of her pink playsuit a little too vigorously. The truly tragic part was that Jenna knew how genuinely Leeann wanted to keep the baby, too. Leeann thought Meg could fill that empty place inside of her—the part that hadn’t received or learned how to love. If Jenna hadn’t experienced Leeann’s narcissism firsthand growing up, she might even feel sorry for her.

“You’ll both be living in Melbourne?” Leeann asked, her eyes assessing the two of them.

Jenna’s mind went blank. Now that she was back, she had no intention of leaving Sydney again; this had been Amy’s home. It would be Meg’s home too. But Leeann would be aware that Gage’s headquarters were down south.

As if reading her thoughts, Gage came up with the perfect response. “Jenna would like to stay in Sydney, and I already had plans to relocate my head office here.”

His arms circled Jenna’s waist and brought her closer. As he smiled down into her eyes, her heartbeat tripped over itself. He was so convincing. She had to remind herself that these simmering looks were merely for show.

Leeann cleared her throat; their display obviously irritated her. “I read in this morning’s business section that you were wrapping up a secret negotiation.” The baby whimpered and Leeann began to jiggle her. “I’d have thought your time would be needed in Melbourne twenty-four seven.”

When the baby cried, Leeann shh’ed louder and jiggled faster, and Jenna’s paper-thin patience tore down the middle.

She couldn’t do it. Legal guardian or not, how could she leave Amy’s baby here even one minute longer?

She was about to lever Meg from Leeann’s arms when a young woman rushed into the room.

“I’ll take her if you’d like, Mrs. Darley.”

The woman’s glasses sat crookedly above the bump of her nose, but her bearing, as she held out her hands for the baby, was firm and confident. Although she didn’t want to, Jenna took a step back and let the woman—Meg’s nanny, she presumed—take her niece.

Behind small oval lenses, the younger woman’s large dark eyes appraised her, but Jenna couldn’t quite decide whether it was with approval or mistrust.

“You must be Meg’s aunt.” The nanny smiled down at the quieting baby and tickled her chin. “I can see the resemblance.” She turned to Leeann. “I had trouble finding the right formula. I’ll make a bottle then put her back to sleep.”

Leeann’s chest expanded with a shuddering breath as she set a hand to the bodice of her raw silk jacket and visibly composed herself. “Thank you, Tina. We’ll leave you both alone. My guests were about to leave.”

Gage drew a card from his jacket’s top pocket. “My lawyer’s number.” His grin was cold. “In case you need to contact us.”

Traveling down in the lift a moment later, Jenna couldn’t stop quaking. She crossed her arms, raised a fist, and tried to find a finger with any nail left to bite. She hadn’t chewed her nails since ninth grade when Amy had bought a DIY French tip set to help her quit the habit. Amy had said there was no excuse for biting nails…she had to be strong…had to take it one day at a time…

Tears thickened in her throat.

Meg crying, the nanny’s judgmental gaze, Leeann pushing them out…She should have taken her father’s bonsai and smashed it against the window of that damn million-dollar view! Or better yet, she should have brought it back home where it belonged.

She closed her eyes.

Oh, Meg…

Gage wound an arm around her bent shoulders and brought her close. But the swelling bank of tears only rose higher. He felt so strong and sturdy, a pillar she could lean on. Lord in heaven, she needed that so much.

Releasing a breath, she relented and buried her face against a chest carved from warm granite.

“This is so wrong,” she groaned against his lapels. “Meg doesn’t belong there.”

Gage’s large hand stroked her hair.

The sheer strength of him…the smell. How easy it would be to forget the past and believe this incredible man truly wanted to marry her, and not merely for pragmatism’s sake.

Her hands curled, fisting in his jacket.

Oh, I really am in a bad way, she thought.

As the doors parted, he gently drew her away and gazed deeply into her eyes, reassuring her. “The nanny seems nice.”

Wishing away the hollow ache in her chest, Jenna accepted the handkerchief he offered and dabbed her wet eyes; she could imagine the puffy smudges partially covering her hideous dark circles. God, she needed sleep.

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