Australian

AFFAIRS

Australian Affairs: Taken – January 2019

Australian Affairs: Rescued – February 2019

Australian Affairs: Tempted – March 2019

Australian Affairs: Seduced – April 2019

Australian Affairs: Wed – May 2019

Australian Affairs: Claimed – June 2019

About the Authors

BELLA BUCANNON lives in a quiet northern suburb of Adelaide with her soulmate husband, who loves and supports her in any endeavour. She enjoys walking, dining out and travelling. Bus tours or cruising with days at sea to relax, plot and write are top of her list. Apart from category romance she also writes very short stories and poems for a local writing group. Bella believes joining RWA and SARA early in her writing journey was a major factor in her achievements.

NIKKI LOGAN lives on the edge of a string of wetlands in Western Australia, with her partner and a menagerie of animals. She writes captivating nature-based stories full of romance in descriptive natural environments. She believes the danger and richness of wild places perfectly mirror the passion and risk of falling in love.

Nikki loves to hear from readers via nikkilogan.com.au or through social media: Twitter: @ReadNikkiLogan Facebook: Nikki Logan

MEREDITH WEBBER says of herself, ‘Once I read an article which suggested that Mills and Boon were looking for new Medical Romance authors. I had one of those “I can do that” moments, and gave it a try. What began as a challenge has become an obsession—though I do temper the “butt on seat” career of writing with dirty but healthy outdoor pursuits, fossicking through the Australian Outback in search of gold or opals. Having had some success in all of these endeavours, I now consider I’ve found the perfect lifestyle.’

Australian Affairs: Rescued

Bound by the Unborn Baby

Bella Bucannon

Her Knight in the Outback

Nikki Logan

One Baby Step at a Time

Meredith Webber

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-08661-5

AUSTRALIAN AFFAIRS: RESCUED

Bound by the Unborn Baby © 2016 Bella Bucannon Her Knight in the Outback © 2015 Nikki Logan One Baby Step at a Time © 2013 Meredith Webber

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk

Version: 2018-07-03

Table of Contents

Cover

About the Authors

Title Page

Copyright

Bound by the Unborn Baby

Dedication

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

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Her Knight in the Outback

Dedication

Acknowledgments

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

One Baby Step at a Time

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

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

EPILOGUE

About the Publisher

Bound by the Unborn Baby

Bella Bucannon

Deepest thanks to my husband and soulmate, who claims that inside my head is the scariest place on earth but loves me unconditionally anyway. Special thanks to the generous, supportive South Australian Romance Authors for their encouragement and steadfast belief in me.

And to Flo Nicoll, who saw beyond my raw writing and gave me the courage to drastically cut and revise and produce a story worth telling.

CHAPTER ONE

THIRD DOOR ON the left. Why the hell hadn’t he given in to his original instinct, phoned the hotel with a refusal, then binned the short letter hand-delivered to his office? He’d never heard of Alina Fletcher—didn’t have the time or energy for enigmatic invitations.

Except one phrase, vaguely referring to his family, had captured his interest five weeks after his sister and brother-in-law had died in Barcelona, less than two since his second trip to Spain regarding their estate.

He felt drained. Flying overseas and coping with local authorities while handling the glitches regarding his latest hotel acquisition had been exhausting. The basic Spanish he’d acquired on other trips had helped; deprivation of sleep didn’t. He desperately needed a break to enable him to grieve for Louise, and for Leon, who’d been his best friend since primary school. Any additional angst was definitely unwelcome.

The open doorway allowed him a clear view of the woman facing the window. Slim build. Medium height. Short dark brown hair. His gaze slid rapidly over a sky-blue jacket and trousers to flat shoes. Unusual in this time of killer heels.

‘Ms Fletcher?’ He was curter than he’d intended, influenced by a hard clench low in his abdomen.

She turned slowly and his battered emotions were rocked even more. Pain-filled eyes underlined with dark smudges met his. Widened. Shuttered. Reopened, clear and steady. Whatever had flickered in their incredible violet depths had banished his lethargy. His dormant libido kicked in, tightening his stomach muscles, accelerating his pulse.

Inappropriate. Inexcusable.

‘Ethan James? Thank you for agreeing to meet me.’

No welcoming smile. Did he detect a slight accent? He’d have to hear more—wanted to hear more.

He cleared his throat. ‘Did I have a choice?’ Moving forward with extended hand, he frowned at her hesitation. She was the one who’d requested the meeting.

After a cool, brief touch she gestured to the seating. ‘Coffee? Black and strong?’

His eyes narrowed at her assumption of his preference, flicked to the wedding ring she wore. Married. Why did he care? The perfume she wore didn’t suit her. Too strong. Too exotic. He wasn’t thinking clearly—hadn’t been since that devastating early-morning phone call.

‘What do you want?’ No games. Either she told him the reason they were here or he walked. ‘You’ve got two minutes to convince me to stay.’

She met his glare unwaveringly. ‘Then you’d better start reading.’ Perching on the front of an armchair, she pushed a buff-coloured folder along the low table before pouring coffee into a cup.

His muscles tensed. She appeared confident, was counting on him thinking he’d always wonder if he left without an explanation. He grudgingly picked up the unnamed folder and sat, stretching out his long legs.

Once she’d placed the drink in front of him she took a book from the bag by her side and settled into the chair to read.

He pulled the file out, glanced at the front sheet—and his already shattered world tilted beyond reality. He flipped the pages, studied the signatures. Scowled at the seemingly composed female ignoring him. A fist of ice clamped his gut. His heart pounded. Not true. Not believable. Though the signatures were genuine. He’d seen enough of them in the last few weeks to be absolutely certain.

Why? There’d been no indication.

He reached for his coffee, drained the hot liquid in one gulp while glancing at Alina Fletcher. Not so serene on further scrutiny. The fingers on her left hand were performing a strange ritual. Starting with the littlest, they curled one by one into her palm, with her thumb folding over the top. Dancelike, the movement was repeated every few seconds.

Nervous? She damn well ought to be, hitting him with this out of the blue. He gave a derisive grunt. He’d have been blindsided however she’d informed him.

Reverting to the opening document, he meticulously perused every paragraph.

Alina automatically flicked the blurred pages of her book, her fingers trembling. Her thoughts were in turmoil. This encounter ought to have been straightforward. She’d come to Sydney, acquaint the brother with the situation, and then they’d discuss options in a businesslike fashion. Instead she’d tensed at the timbre of his formal greeting, been slow to take his hand, shaken by her quickening heartbeat.

Please, please, let it be hormonal.

The best scenario was that he’d concur with the logical solution. She’d return to Europe and they’d communicate amicably via email or phone. Living alone would be no hardship. She only shared accommodation when it was required by an employer and rarely maintained friendships, even those forged from seasonal reunions. No roots. No ties. Liking co-workers was a plus. None had been able to break through the wall staying sane had compelled her to build.

She still wasn’t sure what had drawn her to Louise on their early irregular meetings. Perhaps an empathy that had enabled her to see behind the sparkling personality and glimpse the hidden sorrow? A feeling that she was a kindred spirit? Seeing the loving relationship Louise had shared with Leon? She’d often thought of them while travelling. Four months ago fate had brought them together at a critical time for Louise, a soul-searching one for her.

She’d stayed away from the funeral service in Barcelona for her own sake, needing time to decide what to do. Contacting Ethan James while he was arranging for his relatives to be transported to Australia for burial would have been insensitive. It was, however, the honourable thing to do now. In the end the only thing she believed would ensure her future peace of mind.

Until she’d looked into those cobalt eyes with their thick black lashes—so like Louise’s, except dulled with sadness and fatigue. Unwarranted, almost forgotten heat sensations had flared low in her belly. Immediately squashed. Never again. She’d barely survived before—sometimes felt she hadn’t.

During the last year she’d slowly, so slowly, begun to open up a little to people. Now she was caught in a different nightmare, with far-reaching consequences. It all depended on the man intently scanning the papers she’d given him.

She approved of his neatly trimmed dark hair, his long fingers with well-shaped clean nails. His no-frills attitude to her letter. Leon had described him as astute, pragmatic, and extremely non-sentimental in business. Personally reserved. The very qualities she needed right now.

She sipped her mint tea, praying her guest would agree to her suggestion. Her skin still prickled from his oh-so-fleeting touch. A hint of earthy cologne teased her nostrils every time she inhaled. Unusual and unfamiliar. Definitely not one of the brands she’d sold working in a department store in Rome last summer.

The tension in the room heightened. She looked up, encountered cold, resolute scrutiny, a grim mouth and firmly set jaw. Did he intend to dispute her claim? In October he’d have all the proof he’d require.

Ethan saw fear chase the sadness from her eyes, swiftly replaced by pseudo-cool detachment.

‘You’re carrying their child.’ He didn’t doubt the validity of the documents. They were legal, watertight contracts—somewhat alien to his carefree relatives. ‘Why?’

‘Three early miscarriages with no medical explanation. No trouble with conception. Surrogacy offered them a way to have a baby of their own.’ She spoke precisely, as if she’d rehearsed every word.

He swore quietly, fervently. Why hadn’t they told him? There’d been no hint of a problem on any of his visits. Or had he been too focused on his growing business empire to notice?

Anger at lost opportunities gnawed at him. Guilt at missing any change in Louise’s demeanour flooded him. The urge to strike out was strong. Pity the only one in the firing line happened to be the messenger.

‘Why the secrecy? Why you?’ He ground the words out violently.

She didn’t flinch, though faint colour tinged her cheeks. Crossing her arms, she lifted her chin. ‘I offered. My choice. My reasons.’

Something in her tone warned him not to pursue the subject. Fine—he’d accept the simplified statement for now. Coming to terms with being uncle to an unborn child conceived by his dead sister and her husband, carried by a stranger, took precedence.

‘When’s the child due? Did they know?’ A myriad of questions buzzed in his brain, making it impossible to prioritise.

‘Late October. I’m nine weeks. We did a pregnancy test together.’ Her lips trembled. Her gaze shifted to the wall behind him. ‘They were so incredibly happy for a few days. Until that goods van smashed into them at that outdoor café.’

Her tortured eyes met his. Anguish ripped through him on hearing those mind-numbing words spoken in her tremulous voice. He knew. He’d received the international call, read the reports. Seen photographs of the mangled wreckage.

Suddenly he craved solitude. And space. He wanted to run from this woman, escape from her predicament. Forget everything and crawl into a cave like a wounded animal to lick his wounds and recover.

Not going to happen.

He ought to stay, talk more. Get more details. How could he? She exacerbated his torment.

Jamming the file into the folder, he stood up. Alina stayed in her seat, her eyes a mixture of sorrow and perplexity, making him feel like a louse. He pulled his mobile from his inside pocket.

‘I need time to take all this in. Give me your number. I’ll phone you tomorrow.’

She told him, including the Spanish code. ‘You can leave a message at Reception so you won’t get charged international rates.’

Ethan let out a short, half-choked laugh. She appeared genuinely concerned at the thought of him paying the fees—something his company did every day. ‘I can stand the cost.’

A soft blush coloured her cheeks. His gut twisted in remorse.

She rose to her feet, proudly defiant, tightly clasping her book. ‘I appreciate what a shock this is. If there’d been an easier way to tell you, I’d—’

‘There wasn’t. Goodbye, Ms Fletcher.’ He spun round and strode out.

The tension drained from Alina’s muscles, to be replaced by frightening awareness. Alien. Alarming. His aura still filled the room, surrounding her, challenging her resolve. Threatening what little stability she had.

She tried to equate this barely held together man with the sharp, on-the-ball tycoon described to her. The one who’d always managed to extricate the two friends from escapades usually instigated by the younger one. The one who’d transformed a failing local travel centre into the multimillion-dollar Starburst hotel and tourism empire.

The man she’d just watched hurriedly exit seemed to be operating on stretched nerves.

Pouring another cup of tea, she reproached herself for bringing more trauma into his life, but knew she’d had no choice. The realisation that she’d been banking on him taking charge, relieving her of all major decisions, hit home. She squeezed her eyes shut, stemming the tears. He hadn’t rebuffed her completely. There was still hope.

She pictured Louise sobbing in the café the day after the specialist had advised her that any more pregnancies might be detrimental to her health. She recalled walking her home, talking with her, learning about her society-obsessed parents’ rigid attitude to social status.

Her sympathy for Leon’s and Louise’s plight, and her strong desire to help had been understandable; the solution that had popped into her mind had been astounding. And terrifying.

After two days of intense soul-searching she’d offered to be a surrogate. Their initial refusal had given way to grateful acceptance in light of their limited options. Over a supper of fruit, cheese and dips, washed down with local wine, they’d conceived the perfect plan. Almost foolproof. They hadn’t counted on brake failure destroying their hopes in the cruellest way possible.

She stroked her stomach. Their baby—not hers. She was simply a cocoon. In October she’d have given birth to their son or daughter and then stepped away, allowing them to experience fully the delights and dramas of parenthood.

Ethan must consent to her plan. This tiny new life inside her deserved the love and happiness its new family would have shared. Ethan, rather than his parents, was her preferred choice. If they all chose not to... Well, then she’d have to confront and conquer her demons.

Gathering up her belongings, she went to her room, hoping the television would prevent her thoughts from straying to tomorrow’s call. And its maker.

* * *

She was window-shopping along George Street when her phone rang late the next morning.

‘Alina?’

Spoken with a slightly different emphasis, as if personal to him. Silly idea. He’d given her the impression he considered her an intrusive dilemma.

‘Sorry I didn’t call earlier. I’ve been juggling my schedule. Are you free tonight?’

‘Yes. I came to Sydney for the sole purpose of meeting you.’

‘And if I’d refused?’ he asked brusquely.

‘I’d have posted you a detailed letter with the file and caught the next available flight to Spain.’

‘And wha—? No, not now. A hire car will be outside your hotel at five-thirty. I’ve booked a table. Goodbye, Ms Fletcher.’

He hung up, leaving her startled by his broken-off question. Understanding his scepticism, she swore to be honest—though she’d keep her past to herself unless it concerned the baby. Last night as she’d fallen asleep she’d sensed an elusive unidentifiable memory skip through her mind. Didn’t want any more.

* * *

Ethan drummed his fingertips on his desk. He’d meant to ask why she wore a ring—if there was a husband or partner in the picture. He’d been distracted by her impassive replies and had accidentally activated an email from Brisbane requiring an urgent reply. Hence his regrettable abrupt ending to the call.

His back ached...his brain spun. An evening on the internet researching surrogacy had raised more questions than it had answered. It hurt that they’d gone through so much heartache alone. Why hadn’t they reached out to him? Surely they’d known they mattered to him more than anything?

He’d supported Louise’s marriage to Leon against his parents’ wishes, happily standing as best man. He had never doubted their love for each other, had admired their courage and steadfast defiance of the demands to wait until they were older. Louise’s declaration that they’d have a park wedding in front of a few friends had provoked his mother into grudging agreement. She had then proceeded to turn it into a flash affair for her own social gratification.

From what he’d seen, growing up, those two had been the exception in a world of duplicity and the façade of wedded unity. His own memories of being brushed aside, of days seeing only nannies or cooks, still rankled.

Knowing he carried the genes of two people with no apparent parental feelings had determined his future. Swearing there’d be no children, even if he married in the future, he’d resolved to be the best uncle to any nieces or nephews. Now that vow would be tested in a way he’d never imagined.

Lying awake, contemplating options, he’d finally decided on the best solution for the child and his family. It all depended on that gold ring. Alina Fletcher might not concur with his decision. She was the one who’d offered the use of her body, the one who’d travelled to Australia to meet him. The one who’d spun his world out of orbit with her revelation. She’d committed herself by contacting him.

He’d been disconcerted by his physical reaction to the stranger with the inconceivable news. An effect he blamed on fatigue, combined with his almost celibate life for months. So he’d run—hadn’t stayed to find out what she wanted, what she expected from him.

He’d finally slept restlessly, risen early, and reshuffled his work diary.

* * *

Alina spotted Ethan immediately: tall, head-turningly handsome, impossible to miss among the people milling outside the luxurious hotel. His sister had been spontaneous and cheerful; her dinner companion tonight exuded an aura of deliberation and sobriety.

Blaming the prickling sensation down her spine on stress, she steeled herself as she unbuckled the seatbelt. Her door opened, giving her a view of a solid torso clad in an elegant designer suit. She was glad she’d impulsively packed her black dinner dress, bought four years ago in rural France. Rarely worn, it was simple in design, chic enough to give her confidence a boost. Loose enough to conceal any hint of her condition.

She swung her leg out and his fingers curled around her elbow, taking her weight as she alighted. Holding on longer than necessary. As it had yesterday, his touch generated tingles, radiating across her skin.

‘Thank you for being so prompt.’

His deep voice sounded less dynamic. The shadows under his eyes were darker. Another too-full day after too little sleep?

Why the let-down feeling at his mundane comment? Quickly followed by a zing of pleasure when he put his arm around her to escort her through the crowd? Heat flared in places that had been winter-cold for years, shocking her into silence.

He released her the moment they entered the elevator for the short journey up to the restaurant, taken in silence. They were greeted by the maître d’, who led them to a window table set apart in a far corner, secluded by greenery. Alina followed, acutely aware of the man behind her and the limited number of diners in the room. She sat, staring in awe at the North Sydney high-rises across the harbour.

‘This is incredible,’ she said, and sighed, turning her head to take in more. Too far. Their eyes met; warmth flooded her cheeks. He must think her so gauche. To her surprise he glanced out, then smiled at her for the first time, transforming his features, making him less forbidding.

‘I guess it is. Over time you get used to the skyline being there.’

‘Not possible,’ she declared vehemently. ‘And it’s going to get better as all the lights come on, isn’t it?’

CHAPTER TWO

ETHAN’S FATIGUE LIGHTENED at her enthusiasm for something he took for granted. Her eyes gleamed, darkened to the colour of the flowers of the plant on his PA’s desk.

His jaw firmed as she returned the smile from the young waiter who offered her a menu. The curt nod he gave him on accepting his was unwarranted, and instantly repented.

Her delightfully intense expression as she carefully read each item restored his good humour. She finally looked up and gestured, palm out.

‘How on earth am I supposed to decide? I’m not even sure what some of them are. You choose for me.’

‘The lemon sole is particularly good. Or the chef’s special if you are in the mood for lamb.’ His gaze dropped to her pink, unenhanced lips. Forget food—he wanted to taste her. She’d be sweeter than any dessert coming out of the kitchen tonight.

Her voice cut through his inapt thoughts.

‘I’ll bet they’re all delicious. Nothing too spicy or strong-flavoured.’ Putting her menu on the table, she laid her arms on top, unintentionally drawing his attention as she leant forward. ‘And small portions for me, please.’

The taut fit of the material over her breasts intrigued him. Had being pregnant enlarged them? They’d been hidden under her loose jacket yesterday. Tonight they’d been the first thing he’d visually noticed when she’d stepped from the car—preceded by that perfume so not right for her.

What the hell was wrong with him? The woman opposite him wore a wedding ring and was pregnant. He tamped down his libido, concentrated on selecting their meal.

‘Oh, wine...?’ Alina’s hands fell to her sides as a young woman carrying a bottle placed an ice bucket and stand next to their table.

‘Non-alcoholic,’ Ethan hastily reassured her, before addressing the waitress. ‘Please allow my guest to sample it.’

She savoured the tangy fruit flavour, drank a little more, and smiled. ‘It’s very refreshing. Thank you.’

She gazed around while he ordered their meals. A screen of plants, plus a larger than standard space, separated them from the adjoining tables. Little chance of being seen—none of being overheard. Had he asked for it? Or—oh, this upmarket hotel must be part of his Starburst chain.

The waitress left. Alina raised her glass, let the tangy liquid slide down her throat. Her curiosity overrode tact. ‘Are these plants and extra space always here?’

He shrugged. ‘On request. Some couples find the seclusion romantic. Some men aspire to an elaborate setting with privacy for a proposal.’ He paused, a glint of amusement in his eyes. ‘In case of rejection.’

She understood the need to keep her presence a secret. An icy shiver ran down her spine. What if he rejected her proposal? She had to persuade him it was best for everyone involved.

‘Doesn’t it invite curiosity from people who might recognise you? Who’ll wonder who I am?’

‘Few people dine this early. I believe you’ll feel more comfortable eating here, then we’ll go somewhere quieter to discuss our situation.’

‘You’re right. Thank you.’ Her gaze wandered from the silverware, the fine cut-glass, and the decorative light fittings to the amazing panorama outside the window.

‘Fine dining. Romantic setting with harbour lights. They create a wonderful memory for any couple,’ he commented.

Like a sandy beach with rippling waves at dawn. Her eyes misted. She bit the inside of her lip. Don’t go there. It’s all gone. Gone for ever.

Ethan wasn’t about to let her attention stray. He had too much to learn in too little time. Her history. The reason she’d agreed to be a surrogate. Why she wore that ring. Why a simple piece of jewellery rankled so much.

‘Alina?’

Too sharp.

She started, blinked twice, and refocused. ‘I’m sorry. I was miles away.’

‘I noticed.’ He leant an elbow on the table, rested his chin on his hand, and scrutinised her. He sensed her superficial demeanour was a defensive shield, preventing her from revealing anything personal. It was one he aimed to breach for his, and the child’s, benefit.

‘Relax. Enjoy your meal. You like seafood?’

‘Love it.’

Her words coincided with the appearance of their appetiser: creamy pumpkin soup with croutons. They ate in silence, apart from her praise for the country fresh flavour. He signalled for the empty dishes to be removed, requested their mains be held for five minutes.

Once they were alone, he leant forward. ‘How long had you known Leon and Louise?’

‘Oh. Um...I guess casually for more than three years. If there was a position vacant I worked in a café near their house whenever I was in Barcelona.’

‘A waitress?’ His eyebrow quirked. Whenever she was in Barcelona? She was not a resident?

She bristled at his inference of her pursuing a lowly profession. ‘Be careful, Mr James. You’re demeaning your staff, who are giving us excellent service tonight.’

He acknowledged her rebuke with a nod. She looked gratified and continued. ‘It’s a useful skill for a working traveller. I rarely stay anywhere for long.’

‘Any other useful skills?’ This was getting worse by the minute. Casual worker. Temporary. No profession. Why had they chosen her?

Alina fought the urge to challenge his condescending attitude. He was the baby’s uncle—ideally its future guardian.

Her choices had been determined by her need to have limited social contact. She toyed with the stem of her glass, drew in a steadying breath. ‘Any office work, translating or bar tending. Plus anything seasonal or transient, such as crop harvesting. I have references, if you’re interested. It’s been my life for seven years—my choice.’

‘Not any more. Your foreseeable future will be governed by what’s best for the child you are carrying. And I will have an input in every decision.’

His low, inflexible tone added to the challenge in his piercing eyes. She matched him, picturing his relatives’ joy—so short-lived.

‘The baby is my main priority. I’m taking care of myself, eating healthily, exercising sensibly.’

The bite in her voice shamed her. She’d never been confrontational, had always tried to get along with others, even in short-term work environments.

She gulped, tried for conciliation. ‘Everything I do is to maintain their dream.’

Their dream—not hers. Talking with Ethan James raked up memories best left forgotten.

‘What nationality are you? Where are your legal documents? Birth certificate?’ He topped up their wine glasses as he spoke, then watched her as he drank.

Hands hidden in her lap, her spine rigid, she refused to show any sign of weakness. ‘I’m Australian, born and bred. Is that good enough for you? For your parents? My passport’s in the safe at the hotel.’

She’d done it again. She’d anticipated his questions, prepared herself for suspicion, even rejection. So how did he manage to wind her up so easily?

He waited. His unfathomable dark blue eyes revealed nothing. Inexplicably, she found herself wondering how those firm full lips would feel pressed against hers.

No. No. No! She let out a loud huff of air. Had to be hormonal. Couldn’t be the man. It was vital for him to think the best of her.

She tried again. ‘Anything not needed regularly is with my solicitor in Crow’s Nest.’

‘Good. Easily accessible.’ He nodded, smiled as if her reply pleased him. ‘Here comes our main course.’

He’d chosen grilled lemon sole served with lightly sautéed vegetables and a side salad. It was melt-in-the-mouth scrumptious—the best meal she could remember. Her tension eased as he kept the conversation neutral and light. Because he was satisfied with her answers so far?

Dessert was an unbelievably good strawberry soufflé. She sensed his perusal as she scraped the last morsel from her dish. Didn’t care. It was heavenly.

Putting down her spoon, she smiled at him. ‘Mmm. Mouth-watering food. Great service. Do you eat here often?’

‘I’ll pass your approval on to the chef. Apart from dining here, with or without guests, I find it convenient to ring in an order and have it sent to my office or apartment.’

‘They home-deliver? Like pizza?’ She stared at him in amazement. He regularly ate personally delivered gourmet meals. She occasionally ordered takeaway, saved money by picking it up.

His throaty laugh skittered across her skin. ‘Hey, we cater for twenty-four-hour room service. My meals travel a little further in a taxi, that’s all.’

‘Wow. We so live in different worlds.’

His eyes darkened and bored into hers. She couldn’t move, couldn’t look away. Her lighthearted words had shattered the mood.

Ethan pushed his empty dish aside, annoyed at her emphatic statement. She made it sound like an insurmountable division between them. Although their life in Spain might have been simpler, more casual than his ambition-driven existence, basically his core beliefs were the same as his sister’s and brother-in-law’s.

He’d enjoyed every moment of the regular visits he’d made to Barcelona, including the noisy, fun-filled meals lasting well into the night. There had always been friends around. So why hadn’t he met her? Bad timing?

He drank the last of his wine, dropped his napkin on the table. ‘Are you ready to leave? We’ll have privacy to talk upstairs.’ Where he’d be able to override any dissension to his proposition.

‘Upstairs?’

Apprehension shaded the striking colour of her eyes, and a strong urge to reassure her rocked him.

‘Company suite for family or friends. Leon and Louise stayed here twice; usually they came to my apartment.’

She didn’t answer. He came round to hold her chair while she retrieved her bag from the floor and stood, head held high. Courageous. Beautiful.

Taking her elbow respectfully, he guided her towards a door in the side wall. The ever-alert maître d’ was there before them. Ethan thanked him, adding praise for the attending staff. A moment later they sped upwards in an exclusive elevator.

* * *

They stepped out into a foyer, not the corridor Alina had envisaged. Colourful modern art complemented the light sand-coloured walls between two white doors. He used a key card to open the one on the right, gestured for her to enter.

Her remark rang true as she stared enviously at her surroundings. Different worlds nailed it. She’d cleaned rooms, never luxury suites. And for him this was the norm, his everyday existence.

Floor-to-ceiling windows afforded a spectacular view of the city on two adjoining walls. Perfectly situated to take advantage was a dark wood dining setting, with a centrepiece of bushland flora. A matching coffee table stood in front of a luxurious dark blue three-piece lounge suite, facing a wall-mounted television. Two large bright blue and red abstract paintings hung on light grey walls.

Her companion shrugged out of his jacket, tossed it onto a chair, and gestured towards a hallway. ‘The bathroom is the third door along if you need it.’

He walked across to a fancy coffee machine, reaching for two mugs from the cabinet above. She watched the play of his muscles under his navy shirt, chided herself for the sudden appreciative clench low in her belly.

‘If not take a seat. Tea? I assume your condition is the reason you didn’t drink coffee yesterday?’

He’d noticed. Totally focused on the documents, reeling from shock, he’d still been aware of what she’d drunk. Had he mentally sized her up, judged her, as well?

‘Herbal, if you have any, please.’

‘No problem. Make yourself comfortable.’

So solicitous. So hospitable. Would his attitude change if they couldn’t come to an agreement?

She moved to the settee, kicked off her shoes, and curled into a corner. ‘Could you make it fairly weak? Just in case.’

He glanced round, his brow furrowed. ‘In case of what?’ His face cleared. ‘Ah, having trouble with morning sickness?’

She appreciated the concern in his voice, even if it was more for the welfare of his niece or nephew than for her.

‘I’ve been lucky so far—occasional nausea from strong aromas, nothing too bad.’

This polite, bland conversation had no reason to irritate her—however, it did. There was no one around to hear them. Let’s get on with it.

‘What else have...? Never mind.’

Ethan tamped down his curiosity regarding her history. The current situation had priority. He put the two mugs on the coffee table and sat down beside her, inadvertently too close for detachment. Close enough to smell the fragrance he’d determined to change at the earliest opportunity. Close enough to notice the faded scar almost hidden by her hair. Close enough to inadvertently touch her. He linked his fingers to prevent impulsive movement. To keep it impersonal. Huh, she’s having Louise’s child. Can’t get much more personal.

Clearing his throat, he returned to basic facts. ‘Has the pregnancy been confirmed medically?’ A natural question to open the conversation.

She flicked a non-existent lock of hair from her forehead. A recent change of hairstyle? Cut shorter than she normally wore it?

‘No. We did an early home test on February the seventh. Although it showed positive, I repeated it before booking my flight.’ Her voice was clear, with no hesitation.

He nodded. ‘We have an appointment at eleven-thirty next Monday with Dr Patricia Conlan—reputedly one of Sydney’s leading gynaecologists. I’ve been assured she’ll give the best care to you and our baby. She’s had a cancellation, otherwise we’d have a longer wait.’

Her pupils dilated, making a stunning display of her violet irises. Her hand moved swiftly to cover her abdomen, triggering a surge of possessiveness in him, alien and disquieting. An instinctive action? Had he imagined the flicker of awareness at his deliberate use of a certain adjective?

‘You need your own proof that I’m pregnant. I’ll be ready.’

‘Not proof. Confirmation that everything is okay.’

She sampled her tea, smiled approvingly. ‘It is. Apart from mild nausea, I’m fit and healthy. What else do you want to know?’

All your secrets. She’d been in his thoughts all day, disturbing his concentration at inopportune moments. Every time he’d walked past his PA’s potted plant the flowers had conjured up a picture of stunning, sorrowful violet eyes. He’d never been drawn to any woman so fast, so powerfully. Telling himself it was because she carried Louise’s child didn’t cut it. His body had responded to her on sight, when he’d still suspected a scam.

‘I’ve made frequent trips to Barcelona in the last three years. I don’t remember your name being mentioned. How come we didn’t meet?’ There’d always been noisy gatherings at his sister’s, available women and obvious attempts at matchmaking. ‘I flew over for a week in January. They were excited and secretive, so I’m guessing it happened around then.’

‘I deliberately wasn’t part of their social group. Louise and I were casual friends who’d have a chat over coffee sometimes. Occasionally Leon would join us. I’d never been to their home until the day she confided in me. Again, my choice. The embryo was implanted on the twenty-eighth—after you’d left.’

Her gaze drifted to the window, as if she were picturing something from her past. She raised her drink and swallowed. As he watched the movement of her throat his fingers itched to caress her lightly tanned skin wherever it was exposed. Wherever it wasn’t.

Draining his mug, he set it down with a sharp clink.

Startled by the noise, she swung round to confront him. ‘I told you I travel a lot—mostly Europe. I’m not good at socialising or small talk.’

Merely lack of practice, to be rectified by the new circles he intended to introduce her into—a world involving business dinners and networking. She’d have his support and protection as long as she stayed with him. In return he’d expect her to accompany him to various functions when a partner was invited.

He’d been completely absorbed in her during their meal. Her eyes, her lips, the graceful curve of her neck as she bent her head, even the way she used her cutlery, all fascinated him. The plain gold ring on her left hand—the only jewellery she wore—niggled at his gut.

She still hadn’t mentioned a husband or partner. It had always been ‘I’. His curiosity had to be satisfied prior to revealing his intentions.

He fisted his fingers on his thigh, braced himself for her reaction. Spoke as she leant over to put her mug down. ‘You wear a wedding ring. And my research informs me surrogates are invariably women who have had at least one successful pregnancy.’

She sat immobilised, one arm outstretched, her face in profile.

He couldn’t stop the next words forming. ‘Where’s your child? Your husband?’

Her mug dropped to the table’s edge, broke in two. Fell to the floor. Her skin drained of colour. Wide, tormented eyes met his. The truth hit him like a king punch to the solar plexus a split second before she replied.

‘They died.’

Flat. Expressionless. Heartbreakingly poignant.

No movement. No sound. Then without warning she erupted from the settee, her desperate eyes swinging towards the door. She took one step. Ethan sprang to his feet and caught her elbow, twisting her round. Her stricken face shook him to the core. He let go.

‘I didn’t think. I’m sorry, Alina.’

She gulped in a deep, staggered breath that raked her body and silently walked to the hallway.

CHAPTER THREE

THEY DIED. WHY HADN’T he realised? The travelling. The solitary lifestyle. He hadn’t connected the facts. Instead he’d acted like a bastard, without consideration for her feelings. An echo of his father.

Somehow he had to make amends, persuade her to stay. The child’s acceptance of him depended on her conceding to his proposition. In every way. Alina the woman as much as the child-bearer. Oh, Louise, what have you started? Why didn’t you tell me?

He picked up both mugs, dropped hers into a bin, washed his, and waited.

* * *

Alina sat on the toilet seat lid, hugging herself, rocking rhythmically, trying to quell her shuddering breaths. The cloud in her mind began to clear, leaving behind a mixture of fear and shame. She’d blown it—been ambushed by a question she ought to have foreseen. Ethan James was a man who’d check the information he’d been given—investigate until he knew everything. Or believed he did. And instead of calmly answering, she’d panicked.

She cringed, dreading what his opinion of her would be now—a neurotic female with serious hang-ups who claimed to be pregnant with his niece or nephew. It was essential he be convinced of her emotional stability, so he’d trust her to take proper care of herself and the baby until its birth.

Dampening a cloth from the rail with cold water, she pressed it to her face, ashamed of her abrupt reaction. Her reflection in the mirror was pale and strained—not the composed image she’d hoped to project. For Louise and Leon. She recited her mantra, squared her shoulders, and returned to the main sitting area.

Ethan leant on the counter by the coffee machine, watching her with sympathetic eyes. Guilt also flickered in the cobalt blue, stirring her conscience.

She gave an awkward shrug. ‘You surprised me. I anticipated a doctor asking about my history, but I guess I’m not as prepared as I thought. Add my hormones acting crazy, and jet lag—’

‘My fault. I didn’t mean it to come out so brutally.’ He moved forward, gave her plenty of space. ‘My only excuse is I’m still trying to come to grips with it all. Forgive me?’

She empathised—had been there. Heck, she was still there. Shock upon shock robbed you of lucidity. In the last twenty-four hours, she’d delivered a bundle to him. Not having any option didn’t ease her remorse.

She managed a twisted smile. ‘Time heals is a furphy. Developing a façade to get through each day is the only way to survive.’ And hers threatened to crack with every look, every touch from this man. Her mouth dried; her throat constricted. ‘It’s not right. They deserved to have their baby. Life stinks.’

Fierce and heartfelt.

Ethan concurred that life wasn’t always fair, but refrained from admitting it. ‘Life’s what you make it. Are you up for talking a little longer? If not I’ll take you to your hotel and we can continue in the morning.’

‘I’ll stay.’ She ran her tongue over dry lips. ‘Could I have another tea, please?’

‘Thank you for agreeing. Same flavour?’

With a brave attempt at smiling, she curled into the corner of the settee. When he sat he left a bigger gap between them, avoiding accidental contact.

Space didn’t help. Yesterday he’d attributed his reaction to her as the combined effects of disbelief, weariness, and self-enforced celibacy due to his business commitments. Problems with the expansion of his hotel chain into Queensland—on top of his regular heavy workload—had left him little time for a personal life even prior to the accident.

Tonight the desire for physical contact had been—was still—much stronger. He’d resisted with effort, knowing it was essential to allay her doubts and resolve some of the essential matters. Every day counted in the agenda he’d formulated.

She drank thirstily, colour gradually returning to her cheeks. Unsure eyes met his and he thought he’d have given almost anything to appease her by bringing the evening to an end.

‘That was the reason you kept moving? No ties? No commitments?’

Relief washed over him when she merely nodded before placing her mug down carefully.

‘We need to discuss certain issues—the main one being protection for the child. It wasn’t random curiosity, Alina. I have a genuine motivation for everything I ask.’

Her jaw firmed, her shoulders hitched. Bracing for what? The sight of her teeth giving a quick tug to the side of her mouth gave him a moment of regret, determinedly squashed. He needed facts.

‘What did you imagine would happen when you requested a meeting?’

To his surprise she relaxed, as if she’d feared a different query.

‘Springing a newborn niece or nephew on you didn’t seem right, even though I don’t think you can get DNA proof till then. I figured you’d appreciate time to get used to the idea—time to decide if your family wanted to adopt the—’

‘If we wanted to adopt Louise’s child?’ In a second he was towering over her, six feet of instant fury directed solely at the woman recoiling from him.

A range of emotions flickered across her features. Resentment. Anger. Guilt?

She pushed herself upright, causing him to step back. ‘Yes—if. You expect me to believe your parents will welcome this? Even with DNA proof?’ She glared up at him, delightfully incensed, daring him to contradict her.

Stunned at her outburst, he felt his temper abate. His mother’s perception of social standing... His father’s snobbery... Their disapproval of his sister’s marriage... All probably the reason Louise’s miscarriages had been kept secret.

He spun round to the window, running agitated fingers into his hair. How much more angst was a man supposed to endure?

‘Options were limited because of their attitude.’

Her tone was gentle, conciliatory. He turned.

‘Louise knew they’d consider adopting a failure, although it was to be their last resort.’

‘I’m not sure they’d have accepted a surrogate grandchild either,’ he grated.

‘They weren’t going to find out.’

It had slipped out, and Alina couldn’t retract the declaration.

A predatory gleam flared in his eyes. He moved quickly, trapping her against the settee, his breath fanning her face. She stood her ground, holding his gaze, hoping he couldn’t sense her trepidation.

A long moment later he inclined his head. ‘I suggest we sit, so you can explain exactly how the three of you intended to hide it from us.’

She didn’t sit. She flopped, desperately trying to regroup. Extremely perceptive, he had a reputation for dealing strictly on the level. Though he might accept his parents’ rigid viewpoint had been the incentive for all their secrecy and deception, he certainly hoped the trio hadn’t broken any laws. That would definitely test his principles.

He also had a way of undermining her defences, honing in on sensitive secrets. Some were not for sharing.

She watched him settle, folding one leg onto the settee. His features indicated that he was cool, calm, and collected. His right fingers lightly drumming on his thigh proved otherwise.

Crunch time. Next week she’d probably be back in Spain, managing alone until October. She’d learned life’s lessons the hard way, already had a plan worked out. There was the trust account Leon had set up, plus an Australian bank account she’d never accessed.

Wriggling into the corner, she tucked her feet up and challenged him. ‘Then I can go to my hotel?’

‘Yes. Tell me the basics. We’ll discuss the rest later.’ Milder tone. Persuasive.

He laid his arm along the back of the settee. A normal gesture, yet she had a sudden urge to slide into its embrace, lay her head on his shoulder, and let him take care of everything. Crazy notion. Not for her. Ever.

‘They made a generous donation to a clinic that caters to low-income couples. The procedure was done under fictitious names, with Louise and me using the same one. We planned to travel around, avoid people we knew. As a patient, I’d use her name.’

She stopped, reluctant to continue as his posture changed. He’d jolted upright when she’d mentioned fictitious names, slowly shaking his head in disbelief. Now he sat still as stone, an incredulous stare in his dark blue eyes. Icy chills ran down her spine; cold sweat formed on her palms. He didn’t approve—couldn’t comprehend all they’d been through.

‘We didn’t hurt or cheat anyone. In fact the money we donated gave other couples a chance to realise their dream too.’

His lips compressed. ‘What about doctors and scans? The birth? What if something had gone wrong? How many people did you intend to lie to?’

Alina’s grip tightened till the ring she wore dug into her flesh. Damn fate and to heck with life. She’d finally found the courage to confront her dark solitude; to try and help someone else in despair. And now she’d been left with the fall-out on her own. Again. She curbed the tears threatening to fall. He’d probably dismiss them anyway.

‘As few as possible. There was no reason to suppose this pregnancy and birth wouldn’t be normal.’ Apart from the fact that this tiny person growing inside her belonged to someone else. ‘You can’t possibly understand. You weren’t there.’

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.’

His turn to be confounded. ‘That’s all you have?’

Shoot, she’d spoken impulsively to a very astute man. She pictured the cold steel unit she’d visited once, fought the hard clench in her abdomen. Couldn’t lie. Couldn’t look into those perceptive eyes either.

‘Everything else I own is in storage. I don’t go there.’ Mentally or physically.

‘Too painful.’ He made it a statement.

Guilt tempered with empathy overrode her self-pity. His grief was new, raw, and he had to cope with the aftermath of the accident. He was processing the estate personally. She’d let her solicitor take charge.

‘I’m sorry, Ethan. I haven’t been very sympathetic to your loss. I’ve been too wrapped up in myself.’ She covered his hand with hers. ‘You’ve had so much to deal with and still managed to be patient with me.’

‘That’s easy.’ His voice hummed with tenderness. He flipped his hand to enfold hers. ‘You’re carrying our child.’ His sudden grin took her by surprise. ‘Do you have a things-to-buy list?’

She responded with a light laugh. ‘I’ve jotted down a few things. Why?’

‘Just wondering. All done?’

She frowned, realised he was referring to the marriage application, and felt the lightness of the mood change.

‘Not quite.’ She returned to the keyboard and added the final data. When she looked up his head was averted, as it had been when he’d made the call.

‘I’ve finished, Ethan. Thank you for giving me privacy.’

‘No problem, Alina.’

The car pulled in to the kerb as he stowed the computer in its bag.

* * *

Their lunch was delivered to a family suite. Afterwards Alina watched TV while Ethan went to another room to take a phone call. She viewed without seeing or hearing. Was he ever off duty? Her guilt resurfaced. The time and effort he was devoting to her meant less for his expanding empire.

The telephone’s ring made her jump. Should she answer it? Thankfully Ethan came through and told Reception to send their visitor up.

Too late to change her mind.

She swallowed the lump in her throat, tamped down her qualms. Steeled herself to act like a newly engaged woman. For his sister and brother-in-law. For their baby.

The celebrant was friendly, bright and efficient. She guided them through the procedure, gracefully declined a drink and promised to lodge the paperwork immediately. The wedding was set for Sunday, April the twentieth at five p.m.

Within fifteen minutes of her departure they were on their way to his apartment.

CHAPTER FIVE

OPULENT WAS THE word that came to mind as Alina stood in her own lavish en suite. This is my home until the end of the year.

She ran her fingertips across the marble surfaces—pure, cool luxury—but felt wary of touching the shiny chrome taps in case she left marks.

Bright stunned eyes stared at her from the pristine mirror. Walls the palest of pale mint-green complemented darker green mottled floor tiles, the crystal-clear shower. Matching it all were the softest, fluffiest towels she’d ever snuggled her face into.

She washed her hands, massaged moisturiser into her skin, breathing in its mild perfume.

She loved the beautifully appointed bedroom too. Also with a green theme, nothing bright or glaring, and as tranquil as a country spring morning—including a painting of a clear stream flowing between banks of willow trees. It was her own calming space, where she might be able to achieve meditation.

Sitting cross-legged on the luxurious cream carpet, she rested her elbows on her knees. Shut her eyes. Black terror. They flew open. She concentrated on the rural scene. Breathe in. Breathe out. Count slowly. Count the flowers in the grass. Count the trees or rocks. Block out everything else. Her inner fears receded—a little.

She stretched, unravelling her legs to lie flat, gazing up at the downlights strategically recessed in the ceiling. By tucking her chin in tight she could see her toes. For how much longer? She rolled over to do twenty push-ups. Did the building have a gym? If she didn’t work she’d need to start exercising more.

She brushed her hair and went to join Ethan in the spacious open living area. Too tidy. Too clean. To her, not lived-in. No magazines or books scattered around. No bowls of fruit or nuts. The only personal touches were two framed photos on one shelf of a too organised bookcase.

His dark hair showed over the top of the long red couch, his low, rich voice lured her forward. As if sensing her, he turned, spoke into the mobile held to his ear. ‘Hang on a minute.’ He covered the mouthpiece, studied her with reflective cobalt eyes. ‘Okay?’

Her reward, when she nodded, was a full-blown lethal Ethan James smile that blew her composure sky-high. ‘Give me ten minutes. If you’re thirsty, I’ll have coffee.’

The kitchen area was TV-cooking-show-perfection: black granite benchtops–—including an island—with stainless steel appliances. It enforced her earlier assessment. His apartment contained top-of-the-range exclusives with a wood and leather theme. Had he given carte blanche to the same interior designer who’d decorated the hotel?

She hadn’t cooked in a kitchen with an island since—since she’d sold the three-bedroom house, mortgaged to the hilt, that she still couldn’t bear to see ever again. Not since hired contractors had packed up the contents and put them into storage arranged by her solicitor.

She clamped her teeth together and focused on the coffee machine—top-brand, naturally.

‘Bronze pod for me. Biscuits in island cupboard. Top shelf.’ His voice floated through the room, accompanied by soft clicks as he dialled another number.

Everything she needed, including a decorative wooden box with the word ‘TEA’ inlaid on the lid, sat on the bench. She activated the machine for his coffee, then opened the box. A delighted ‘Wow...’ whispered from her lips. Her blind lucky dip into one of the sixteen compartments of herbal tea—some quite exotic—produced lemon and ginger.

Ethan waited while his project manager verified figures, his eyes tracking Alina as she made two trips, carrying mugs and a plate of biscuits into the lounge. There was nothing hurried in her movements—hadn’t been from the moment they met. Except when he’d challenged her about her husband and her child.

His eyes did a slow full-body scan, from the short wavy hair framing her pretty face down to the sleek white blouse, over her still flat abdomen, over slender shapely hips, ending at dainty bare feet. His own body enjoyed every second of the journey.

Quiet and unassuming, she’d have been overshadowed by the vibrant Spanish women he’d chatted up on his visits. Or would she? She disturbed him in a sensual way, new and puzzling, and definitely unwanted in their current circumstances.

‘Ethan? You still there?’

The voice in his ear jolted him out of his daydream. Reality ruled.

He gave due praise to his colleague for an urgent problem solved and ended the call. Dropping his mobile by the files on the table, he took an appreciative drink of the strong adrenaline-reviving coffee.

‘Thanks for this.’ The object of his distracting thoughts was now curled up in one of the lounge chairs with a notebook and pen, completely oblivious to the effect she had on him.

‘What’s the title of the latest?’

Alina frowned.

He indicated her notebook. ‘List?’

‘Ah... Personal items. Clothes. What I have won’t do for living your lifestyle.’

Her voice held an audible hint of resignation that sparked a twinge of sympathy. He understood her reluctance, but couldn’t change his stance. He was taking the only course of action he’d be able to live with, irrespective of personal preferences or consequences. Those must be considered collateral damage.

‘I’ve ordered a credit card for you.’ He held up his hand to stop her interjecting. ‘No argument. Having you here is my decision, so I’ll cover any costs you incur because you’re living with me.’

‘I have money.’

Enticingly stubborn, eyes fiercely defiant, mouth so tantalisingly kissable...

He’d eventually win—just not easily. Every step was a walk in a minefield and they’d hardly entered the paddock. Knowing women as he did, he figured once she began to shop for her growing figure and new social commitments she’d realise he was right.

‘Compromise? Accept the card. Use it at your own discretion.’

Her gaze shifted over his shoulder to the photos on the bookshelf. Leon and Louise on their wedding day. With him at a social event. Her eyes softened. She played it down but she’d cared for them too.

He watched neat white teeth bite into a chocolate-covered biscuit, inexplicably imagined them nibbling on his neck. Selecting a plain shortbread, he stretched his legs and crossed his ankles. Wondered what it was about her he found so fascinating.

‘Compromise it is. I have final say,’ she stated with determination, causing him to chuckle out loud. ‘Is there a gym in the building? Or nearby. Until I find a job I’ll—’

She stopped as if stunned when his body jerked forward. Coffee dregs splashed onto the table. His eyes narrowed.

A job? She wanted to work? Hell! He stood, drew in a ragged breath and quelled his exasperation.

‘Wait.’

He strode to the kitchen, brought back a cloth and mopped up the mess. She watched him warily. How could he explain his world to a woman who’d depended only on herself for so long?

Sitting by her side, he took her hand in his, felt her resistance. Held on. ‘In the social circles I grew up in few women worked. There was always a hint of condescension when my parents spoke of those who did—even those with a profession. My contemporaries are a mixture, mostly by choice. I make no judgement.’

He cupped and tilted her jaw until their eyes met.

‘We are different. You’ve come to me two months pregnant, with limited work skills. Uh-uh.’ He quickly placed his thumb over her lips as she stiffened. ‘That was not an insult, merely a statement of fact. I admire the diverse ways you’ve supported yourself, but I’d like you to relax, indulge yourself while you are with me. Accept a little pampering. Let me take care of you both. Please.’

‘I’m not sure I know how.’

Her wistful eyes confirmed her words. He waited, liking the way the violet darkened and her brow furrowed as she contemplated the idea.

‘Does taking courses constitute work?’

Spontaneous laughter rose in his throat. She was adorable. He hugged her close, pressing his lips to her hair. Wanting to press them to hers.

Rising to his feet, he held out his hand. ‘Come with me.’

She hesitated for a second, then accepted his offer. He led her through the kitchen into a short corridor, flicking a hand at two doors on the right.

‘Storage and spare.’ He opened the door on the left. ‘But this is what clinched the deal for me.’

He watched her expression and wasn’t disappointed. Her amazement duplicated his when he’d first walked into the not yet finished lap pool/gym area. One glance, one split second, and he’d contracted to buy.

She gawked at the neat array of exercise machines and banks of weights, at the long narrow strip of water. Her lips parted, but he quickly averted any speech with fingers over her mouth.

‘Don’t...’

Her eyebrows lifted as he spoke.

‘Don’t you dare say it.’

Her chin lifted defiantly. ‘You have no idea what I was thinking,’ she claimed into his skin.

He huffed. ‘A comparison between our worlds and I refuse to listen to any more.’

She studied the equipment for a moment, then him, and damned if he could define the expression in her eyes. Though he sure as hell knew he wanted to change it.

‘Our choices define us, Alina. This is one of my best. My sanctuary from long hours and constant electronic hassle.’ He moved behind her, put his hands on her shoulders. ‘Now it’s yours too. I’ll set up lighter weights on any of the machines you want to use. Do you have bathers with you?’

Bathers? Alina’s eyebrows scrunched. She’d packed for one or two meetings with a workaholic businessman. The rest of her time would have been spent sightseeing. Depending on the sales, maybe she’d have bought a few bargains. At the last minute she’d thrown in her one evening dress.

She twisted her head to tell him she’d add them to her shopping list. Froze. Her movement had brought her lips close to his. Kissing close. Her legs became jelly. Her mouth as dry as autumn leaves. Her heartbeat a jungle drum message.

His earthy cologne, enhanced by the scent of musky male, encircled her. The hazel rims of his dilated pupils were clearly discernible. Hypnotic eyes drew her in. Heat from his body seared her back, even though their only contact was through his hands. Arousing warmth lured and yet frightened. Distantly familiar. New and alarming.

It was illogical to feel chilled and cheated when he abruptly let her go. Put distance between them.

‘Use this area any time you like, though I’d prefer to be here while you do. If the water’s too cold I’ll up the temperature. Towels are in the cupboard by the door.’

General information, spoken matter-of-factly. He obviously wasn’t bothered at all.

Illogical to feel disappointed that his main concern would be the baby’s wellbeing. She vowed to make good use of the gym and pool whether he was there or not.

Ethan walked towards the door, berating himself for the rush of desire he’d felt when she’d turned to him. He had to find a way to block this impractical attraction. He chose his women carefully. No homebodies, no clingers. No romantics. Intelligent, beautiful; sometimes both. He shared pleasant evenings and satisfying nights with them. Nothing more.

Alina had no idea how she affected him. She’d probably fly back to Spain tomorrow if she knew what he’d been thinking. How he’d almost kissed her. How much he still wanted to.

Frustrating days, weeks, months loomed ahead. Enforced celibacy with Alina within reach. Limited touching. Yet making their story believable required getting personal, learning each other’s personalities and habits. Fast. They had to present a united picture to everyone: a couple mutually attracted enough to have had an ardent fling. It wasn’t happening at the moment.

He pivoted round, catching her elbows as she cannoned into him. ‘You know something about me, courtesy of my sister. I’m still groping in the dark where you’re concerned. So it’s imperative you talk to me, lighten up when we’re together.’

He slid one arm around her waist; saw apprehension cloud her eyes.

‘We’ll let people assume we were lovers...they’ll believe I’m the father.’ He skimmed his fingertips lightly across her cheek, murmured softly as he lowered his head. ‘A man and a woman who’ve made a baby should at least act as if they’ve kissed.’

He covered her mouth with his, giving her no chance to thwart him. And his barely restrained libido ran riot. His arousal was swift, unstoppable. Tangling his fingers in her silken curls, he anchored her head while desperately fighting the urge to deepen the kiss.

Willing her lowered eyelids to open, he moved his lips over hers. Pressed a little harder. Her soft lips tasted sweet. Didn’t respond.

Nice one, James. Great way to gain her cooperation and trust.

Did he imagine the light tremor under his hands? The tiniest motion of her lips? He eased away. Her eyelids fluttered, opened. His breakneck pulse cranked up another notch at the bemusement in her incredible violet eyes. Lord, he ached to have her even closer, moulded to his hardened form.

Worst idea ever.

He shifted, let his hand slide over her shoulder, down her arm. ‘We’ll work on it.’

She eyed him with suspicion as she pulled away. ‘Yeah, like you need the practice.’

Her offhand comment might have succeeded, if not for its delightful breathless timbre. Deny it all she liked, she’d been affected by his kiss. He rubbed his nape, wishing he could dive into the clear cool water behind him. A few laps fully clothed might diminish his ardour and help regain his sanity. Instead he had another trip in an enclosed car with her by his side. With that too-strong, not-for-her perfume assailing his senses.

With supreme effort he brought the conversation back to household routine. ‘The pool is cleaned regularly. The apartment is serviced Monday, Wednesday and Friday mornings. They process any dry cleaning I leave on the kitchen island.’

She looked dazed for a second, then welcomed his change of topic. ‘You have security. How do I enter and leave?’

‘I’ve ordered another key card. You can have my spare.’ He checked his watch. ‘Time to go. Can you be ready in ten minutes?’

* * *

Alina wasn’t surprised when they were escorted to an exclusive room on the fourth floor above a renowned jewellery store. Entrance to the secure area was gained by virtue of a buzzer and intercom system.

Ethan moved one of the four seats closer to hers, giving the impression of an attentive fiancé. She berated herself for tensing. How could they fool anyone into believing they were a couple?

An elegant, bespectacled man entered, offering congratulations as he placed two ring trays in front of them, another at the end of the cloth-covered table. Alina stared, stunned. Her body involuntarily tried to put distance between her and the brilliant array. The strong arm around her shoulders tightened as if Ethan sensed her agitation.

Dazzling gems in a myriad of colours and settings sparkled and gleamed. Too flashy for her...too many to choose from. There was no comparison to the small diamond in a heart setting that she’d chosen and been kissed over so long ago.

Don’t think. Don’t remember. This has nothing to do with reality and emotion.

Quiet words were spoken. The jeweller left with the two trays. He returned with a less ostentatious selection. She still couldn’t choose, couldn’t bring herself to touch.

Ethan caressed her cheek with his knuckles. ‘Too much choice, sweetheart? May I?’

Noting his endearment, knowing it was for the benefit of their attendant, she managed a fleeting smile and leant back. She didn’t dare speak in case the pain showed in her voice.

Without hesitation he selected an oval amethyst surrounded by tiny diamonds set in gold. Elegant, not showy. Her finger trembled as he guided it on, holding it firmly to stop it sliding off.

Raising her hand, he pressed his lips to her fingers. ‘Perfect. Beautiful. You.’ He kissed her gently.

She knew this was purely for show, knew she had a part to play. So she did what she’d struggled against by the pool. She returned his kiss.

Her heartbeat accelerated. Her body quivered. His hold tightened, his lips firmed. Her fingers crept up his neck, teasing the ends of his hair. She felt giddy, breathless. Cherished.

Until her stomach knotted and fear replaced the floating sensation. Heat flooded her cheeks; she broke away and bent her head to his chest.

Ethan framed her face with his hands, forced her to meet his gaze. Her warm blush was gratifying. Coupled with the soft glow in her violet eyes, it gave an idyllic image of a newly engaged woman.

His own feelings were elusive, and he had no inclination to analyse them here. They were new, overwhelming—might be caused by any one of the upheavals in his life.

He placed the ring to one side, before swapping the tray for the one at the end of the table. ‘Do you prefer a plain or patterned wedding band?’

He’d bet odds that the cross-cut patterned ring she chose was very different from the one she’d worn years ago—not the plain one she’d removed since yesterday. He selected a matching, broader one, then spoke to the jeweller.

‘Mine fits. Alina’s need to be resized.’

CHAPTER SIX

THEIR NEXT STOP, within walking distance, was his communications supplier. Somehow the end result was a new mobile for Alina with her account bundled with his. Ethan James had a charming way of overruling objections, leaving you feeling as if you’d done him a favour.

Like the way he’d cajoled her into an exclusive perfumery store after claiming that he’d noticed her spray bottle was nearly empty. When had that happened? Well aware that the one she wore, a Christmas gift, was too strong for her; she was delighted with the new delicate spring fragrance. She’d been aware of the surreptitious looks he’d exchanged with the assistant. What else was he planning?

The arrangements, phone calls, et cetera had all taken time and effort, yet he made it seem simple. To him it was. Decisions were made. Actions followed. Tangible proof of the attributes that had ensured his phenomenal success. Skill and diplomacy would ensure the optimum outcome: a healthy son or daughter.

On their way back to the apartment the car pulled in to the kerb and Ethan unclicked his seatbelt. ‘Won’t be long.’

He hopped out and the driver moved off. One lap of the block found him waiting to be picked up, now carrying two plastic bags containing rectangular objects with a delicious exotic aroma.

He laughed at her puzzled stare. ‘Thai takeaway. Best in town.’

‘But...’ Of course—the call he’d made while the salesgirl had been demonstrating functions on her new phone.

‘Nothing hot or spicy. And what we don’t finish tonight we’ll have tomorrow. I’ve had many a breakfast of reheated Asian food.’

So had she—more from the need to stretch a budget than for pleasure. She laughed as her stomach rumbled. ‘I’m hungrier than I thought. Thank you for remembering about the spicy.’

‘I remember everything you’ve told me, Alina.’

His eyes caught hers, held her spellbound. She fought to break the hold, had to stay detached. Letting him in was a risk with too high a cost.

* * *

She was happy when he opted to eat in the lounge, claiming casual dining made takeaway taste better. Watching television would provide a break from personal questions and conversation.

At his request she carried two glasses and a carafe of iced water into the lounge, while he brought china, cutlery and the food.

‘Tonight it’s your choice—apart from reality shows,’ he remarked, scooping special fried rice onto two plates.

‘I haven’t watched much at all these last few years. Hey, not too much on mine.’ She stilled his hand, preventing him from overloading the second plate. ‘The news is fine by me.’

During the ad breaks they discussed the events of the day—small talk which gave her invaluable insight into the man she’d committed her immediate future to. He wasn’t as complimentary about the present government as she’d expected, and spoke sympathetically about lower income earners.

The latter didn’t surprise her; she’d experienced his attitude to shop assistants and his own hotel staff. He did surprise her when he patiently explained the intricacies of a technology breakthrough. So she chose a documentary next, figuring it would interest him, knowing she’d like it too. His avid interest in the excavation of an ancient English church which had revealed a former king’s remains proved her right.

Ethan’s attention strayed during the advertising breaks. Alina would have plenty of time to watch anything she liked in the coming months. It suddenly occurred to him that she’d need something to occupy the hours while he was working. Even if she did sign up for a course or two.

How many people in Sydney had she kept in touch with? Was there anyone she’d confided in? He couldn’t imagine how he’d have got through his teens, resisting his parents’ expectations, without Leon to confide in. Even Louise, five years younger and flighty as a cuckoo fledgling, had listened and supported him.

Alina had stayed away from Australia. Did that mean there were no close friends here? It was obvious that she carried a deep-seated torment inside. Damn, he knew so little about her, but he couldn’t bring himself to push too much. He was supposed to be good with people. If he earned her trust maybe she’d confide in him. When he knew the details he was convinced he’d be able to find a way to ease her pain.

Alina stretched as the final credits rolled, then carried their plates to the dishwasher. Ethan followed with the glassware and caught her yawning.

‘Ready for an early night? It’s been a full-on day for you.’ Sympathy showed in his eyes, warmth in his tender expression.

A restful soak in the bath with an intrigue novel appealed more than bed. Did that seem rude? As if she wanted to get away from him?

As if sensing her confusion, he gently took her in his arms, hugged her and let her go.

‘Goodnight, Alina. Thank you for being so cooperative. I know it wasn’t easy. Sleep well.’

‘I survived. Goodnight.’ She walked away.

‘Alina?’

She turned at the doorway.

‘I swear I’ll take care of you and our child. Believe me?’

She looked into sincere blue eyes and her doubts subsided. ‘Yes, I do.’

This time he didn’t stop her, and went back to the lounge. Trying to read reports was a futile exercise. A few strides along the hall was a beautiful woman who stirred him as no one ever had. A woman whose soul-destroying sorrow influenced every decision she made.

Today she’d begun to react naturally—the way he needed her to if they were to convince everyone they’d been lovers. Their supposed affair might have been short, but their mutual attraction had to be evident. On his part it was becoming less of a pretence every time she was near. And from her tentative responses he suspected her buried feelings were beginning to emerge.

* * *

Ten past nine. Past morning rush hour. Alina leant on the island, checking her notepad, and glanced down at her well-worn jeans. Added two items to her list. She drank her ice-cold juice, scrunched her nose. Pushed the credit card Ethan had given her in a circle on the granite. Having it didn’t mean using it.

He’d knocked on her door early this morning to tell her he was going to his office. Drowsy, needing to use the bathroom, she’d barely acknowledged his remarks. When he’d leaned in to brush her hair from her eyes, his unique smell and the touch of his fingertips had blown her lethargy away, leaving her wide-awake, tingling.

She dropped the pen. This was ridiculous. What could be simpler than writing a list of clothes and accessories to be worn by the wife of a hotshot billionaire? Or was he even richer? Any woman he dated would have no problem filling the page. But she was a nomad, with a meagre pile of cheap, easy-care clothing. Her serviceable underwear would never grace a magazine page or stir a man’s libido.

Hey, what was she thinking?

Focus. You only have to buy enough to be presentable for a few weeks.

As she put on weight she’d have to shop again. More expense.

For a second her mind flashed to the investment account. Another buried secret.

* * *

Sometime after twelve she sank wearily into a window seat of a busy café. Two bags containing the pathetic results of her attempted retail therapy took the chair beside her. This was hopeless. She’d chickened out every time she’d tried to enter any of the high-fashion boutiques she’d found. Embarrassing Ethan in clothes from the stores she normally frequented wasn’t an option. At this rate she’d be in track pants and baggy jumpers right through autumn.

She needed help...didn’t know who to ask. She was used to working; now she had all day with nothing to do. Or did she? She’d meant her reference to taking courses as a joke, but now she deemed them a plausible time-filler.

As the waitress walked past, carrying two plates of fish and chips, another idea popped into her head. Taking out her notepad, she began a new list, pushing it aside when her order arrived.

Indulging in a gooey cream-filled pastry didn’t solve her wardrobe problem but it tasted good. Drinking Viennese hot chocolate while writing the final items lifted her spirits. Surely he’d give her plenty of notice before expecting her to meet his friends or accompany him to functions?

* * *

Ethan sniffed appreciatively as he entered the apartment—later than he’d intended due to an impromptu meeting with his second-in-command. The sooner he implemented the new changes in his workload, the better.

It was a surprise to find the table set for two, even though he’d called, asking her to order dinner from the hotel. There was a bowl of fresh garden salad in the centre, and a bottle of Shiraz waiting to be opened. His home was warm and welcoming—a pleasurable new experience. He shed the trials of his day and moved forward.

‘Mmm, smells good. Mushroom sauce, if I’m not mistaken.’

‘Hi.’ Alina came around the island, carrying water and glasses. ‘Dinner will be ready by the time you wash up.’

Placing his laptop on the end of the table, he moved nearer, breathed in flowers and sunshine—perfect for her, enthralling for him. If this were real...

It wasn’t.

This morning she’d been dreamy-eyed, and he’d come close to kissing her. He hadn’t thought, had merely acted, something he’d need to curb if they were to build a trusting relationship.

‘Give me five minutes.’

Alina arranged steak with foil-wrapped baked potatoes on warmed plates, placed hot crusty rolls in a serviette-lined basket. Smiled with satisfaction. Everything looked appetising, hopefully tasted as good. If she could convince him to let her cook and clean she’d feel so much better about their arrangement. Support for the child was one thing—her being totally dependent on him another.

No way was she going to compete with his qualified chefs. She’d serve recipes she felt capable of, even if they weren’t gourmet standard. The cookbook she’d bought was for inspiration.

Ethan had already poured his glass of wine when she set down his plate, along with the gravy boat. When she returned with her meal he was waiting by her chair, studying his food across the table. She held her breath while he took his seat.

The sparkle in his eyes when they met hers was unnerving. ‘This didn’t come from my hotel kitchen, did it?’

‘No.’ She broke eye contact, her heart sinking. Took a sip of water. If the difference was so obvious she’d already lost.

‘Hmm...’ He poured gravy, put sour cream on his potato and began to eat.

Her breath caught behind the lump in her throat. Her whole body felt primed for his reaction. She so wanted his approval.

‘It’s good.’ His smile caused her lungs to deflate, the lump to dissolve.

‘Not what you’re used to?’

‘Better.’

She bristled. She didn’t need or want pseudo-compliments. ‘You don’t have to butter me up. I know there’s no comparison.’

‘I promise I will always tell you the truth, Alina. Since the accident I’ve ordered meals. They came. I ate often while still working, usually too focused on facts and figures to taste or enjoy it. At home I lived in a void. My way of blocking out the grief, I guess.’

That she understood. ‘And I made it worse with my bombshell.’

‘No—no way.’ He dropped his knife, reached across and took her hand. ‘It was as if nothing had real purpose. I avoided thinking about Louise and Leon because then I’d have to accept they were never coming back. I hated knowing I should have been there for them much more than I was.’

She laid her free hand on top of his, subconsciously acknowledging its male texture.

‘You felt guilty? Oh, Ethan, there was never, ever, in any conversation I had with them, the slightest hint that you had been anything but a loving and supportive brother and friend. One who’d be there for them in a heartbeat if they needed you. I don’t know why they kept their problem a secret. Maybe because shielding those you love from worry goes both ways.’

‘Maybe. I keep wondering if there was anything else I could have done for them. All I know is that you’ve given my life meaning again. I wake in the morning knowing my sister and best friend aren’t completely lost to me. I feel—’

He broke off, slowly withdrew his hand, as if unsure of revealing too much emotion.

‘Best we eat while it’s hot. What other culinary delights do you have planned?’ He helped himself to a serving of salad.

‘You mean it? You’ll really need more than one meal to make a sound judgement.’

‘Bring them on.’

His smile as he raised his drink ignited trails of heat along her veins, threatening the solid barriers she’d sworn to maintain.

‘Here’s to many more home-cooked dinners together.’

They clinked glasses. Alina let her water slide, cool and refreshing, down her throat.

‘It’s on the understanding that you tell me if it’s not good or not to your taste. If I take over the housework as well it’ll fill my days. I’m rethinking the courses idea.’

‘I’m locked into a cleaning contract, so that’s a different proposition. Anyway, in a few months you might be grateful for the help.’

And with the purchase he’d arranged today she might also reconsider.

She pondered his statement as she cut into her steak. ‘You may be right. It’s not easy work, but it pays the bills. Losing their hours here may cause hardship for someone.’

‘You discuss what you’d like done with whoever comes. I’ll notify the company that you have the authority.’

‘Thank you.’

So she’d also done cleaning during her nomadic life, had not been too proud to accept domestic employment. Showed consideration for other manual workers. Every conversation gave Ethan more insight into her—thankfully without her realising how much she revealed.

‘Are you a sports fan?’ she asked. ‘I know Leon and Louise were Sydney Swans supporters and watched the games on the internet. You don’t appear to have much free time.’

‘We never missed a home game when they were here. I’m still a fully paid-up member of the club, and get to go occasionally. It wasn’t the same without them, and the Starburst Group has been growing, demanding more time. I often wind down at night watching whatever sport’s being televised. Clears the mind.’

He asked which countries she’d been to as they ate fruit and ice cream for dessert. She revealed that she’d become fluent in Spanish, Italian and French, got by in other languages, and considered it no big deal. His Spanish was basic, so to him it was an enviable achievement.

He made hot drinks while she stacked the dishwasher.

Alina struggled to keep awake during the short late newscast. Had to stop herself from falling against his shoulder and nodding off.

‘Do you mind if I go to bed? I’m not usually so tired... It has to be the change of environment or the pregnancy, so hopefully it won’t last long.’

‘We’ll check if you need extra vitamins on Monday. You go and rest.’

‘Thank you.’

Admitting her failure at clothes shopping when he’d been so complimentary about her meal seemed a backward move. She’d try again tomorrow.

She had no idea that her disappointment showed in her face, but Ethan noticed, and couldn’t resist drawing her into his arms for comfort.

‘Dinner was delicious, Alina. I know this isn’t easy for you, but I promise we’ll work out any problems that arise. Tell me if anything bothers you and I’ll try to put it right.’

Her eyes were bright as she accepted his vow, and without conscious effort he bent his head to kiss her, moving his lips softly over her mouth. He felt a slight movement in her lips, heard a muted sound from her throat. Reluctantly raising his head, he encountered bemusement tinged with sadness.

He relaxed his hold, stepped back and tried to keep his voice stable. ‘Sleep well, Alina. I should be home earlier tomorrow.’

Watching her go, he cursed himself for his lack of restraint. Tonight they’d really begun to connect, and he feared she might rebuild her barriers overnight. He cursed his parents for the hang-ups that governed his thinking, tainted his ability to feel deep emotion with others apart from Louise and Leon.

His short, raw, ironic laugh was spontaneous. Those two had had no qualms about showing their love—privately or in public. Eye contact, touching, kissing—all had been as natural to them as breathing. He’d never, ever seen either of his parents show any tenderness for each other, never seen a sympathetic gesture like the one Alina had given him tonight.

Not wanting to dwell on why kissing Alina made him feel less alone, he reasoned doing it when they could be seen would substantiate their story of a short and overwhelming passion. But it had to be believable—from both of them. No holding back, no tension. He was a grown man, well able to curb any sexual urges.

* * *

Today had been better. Alina placed her special purchases on the coffee table before carrying the other bags into her bedroom. She’d still avoided high-fashion boutiques and exclusive salons, but with her more positive attitude she’d had some success.

In a big department store she’d found two summer dresses and a lightweight jacket to go with either of them on cooler days. The shoes and bag she’d bought also went with both. She had limited her new underwear purchases, knowing she’d soon outgrow them.

After showering and changing she settled in the lounge to be productive. She had a cup of tea, a block of nut chocolate and a home renovation show on the television. There was plenty of time before Ethan was due home.

His consideration might be because of the baby she carried, his attention and kisses might be to make their relationship more believable, but she had to admit she found them nice. Nothing more. She hadn’t been cared for since she’d fled from Australia, too cowardly to face anyone or anything that raised painful memories.

Mentally planning tonight’s dinner, she opened her present to herself...

CHAPTER SEVEN

SUBDUED NOISES CAME from the lounge as Ethan opened the front door—the earliest he’d been home for months. Putting his briefcase and packages down, he strode in. He hadn’t let Alina know he was on his way, meaning to surprise her. Instead he was the one who stopped short, spellbound by the vision in front of him.

Alina was ensconced on the settee, her eyes lowered, completely absorbed in the material in her hands, her tucked-up legs hidden by a flowing pleated floral skirt. He took in the sleek line of her neck, the satin glow of her cheeks, the sweep of her dark brown lashes. A perfect picture of natural beauty, and for the rest of this year she was his to admire.

He stepped forward, willing her to look up, anxious not to startle her. Her own subtle aroma enhanced her new perfume, making his nostrils flare, stirring his blood. She sensed his presence, gave him a shy glad-to-see-you smile that zinged straight to his heart.

With two paces, completely forgetting his mental declaration of self-control, he was beside her, his arms around her. He bent his head, glimpsed the reticence in her eyes and somehow managed to pull back. Couldn’t stop his grip intensifying, though.

‘Ouch.’ His left leg jerked. He massaged his thigh and chuckled. ‘I’ve been slapped a few times. Never stabbed.’

Alina paled, staring at the small metal needle in her fingers. ‘I...I’m sorry. I...you...I was sewing. You made me forget I...’

He took the offending weapon and placed it on the coffee table alongside an array of coloured thread. ‘My fault. I was distracted by the entrancing sight on my settee. Didn’t allow for hidden danger.’

She blushed at the compliment. ‘It’s not sharp. Do you want to check if there’s bleeding?’

The nervous tremor in her voice, plus the remorse in her eyes, acted like a dousing of cold water. He’d shocked her, shamed himself. This macho being, acting on impulse, wasn’t him. He couldn’t explain even to himself, didn’t know why.

He moved away, dragging his fingers through his hair, trying to concentrate on the essential reason for her presence in his apartment. Five days ago he’d had no idea she existed. To her he was the preferred solution to a situation she didn’t want long-term.

Boardroom strategy—that was what he needed. He had to get back to his original plan. Convince everyone they’d been lovers. Keep his distance in private. Best solution for everyone—especially the woman observing him now with dark, cautious eyes.

He picked up the cloth stretched over a round wooden hoop from her lap. Various shades of green thread had already been woven into the outline of a country cottage garden.

‘Interesting. Pretty scene.’

‘Small, light, fits into my backpack and challenging enough to keep me occupied in the evenings.’ She took it from him and laid it on the table. ‘It’s absorbing—stops me from thinking too much.’

‘And you have a weapon handy if you’re attacked,’ he teased, standing up and pulling her to her feet. ‘New dress? Beautiful.’ His scroll from head to foot was deliberately quick, yet he still felt an appreciative clench. ‘Good shopping trip?’

Her smile faded. ‘Not my favourite occupation. Having no idea what size I’m going to be in a few weeks doesn’t help. How was your day?’

‘Busy. I received a delivery today. Let’s sit down.’

She tensed as he reached into his inside pocket and brought out a small black box.

Taking her left hand in his, he slid the amethyst ring onto her finger. ‘Perfect fit.’

She stared down at their joined hands. Her posture slumped.

‘Alina.’ Her head came up. He had a quick glimpse of sorrow, then it cleared. ‘Remember why we’re doing this. Who it’s for.’

‘I know.’ She freed her hand then crossed her arms, hugging her body. ‘It’s... All this isn’t what I expected.’ Her mouth tried to form a smile. Didn’t quite make it. ‘I won’t let you down.’

So brave, so determined to do the right thing, no matter how heart-wrenching her memories. So delightfully confused by her physical reaction to him.

Basic instinct urged him to hold her, protect her from more pain. But it wouldn’t work for either of them. She wasn’t going to stay. She had emotional baggage that his expectations of her were exacerbating. He had an agenda, an empire to build. He’d have a young child completely dependent on him.

He accepted he’d never be as approachable as his sister. She’d rebelled outwardly against their parents’ attitude, defied them to marry the man she loved, and emigrated to escape their continued interference. He’d channelled everything into developing his company, determined never to emulate his parents and end up in a cold, loveless marriage.

Better to stay a bachelor, to enjoy female company without emotional entanglements. Strict rules and no pain when it ended. Becoming a single father at this stage might throw his life out of whack, testing him to the full, but he’d cope, adjust and succeed.

And on the topic of interference, Alina needed to be aware of a major factor.

‘My parents won’t be invited, so please don’t wear the ring in public until after the wedding.’

She frowned, not understanding his meaning.

He explained. ‘I’ve gathered Louise mentioned their attitude on social standing and—unbelievable in today’s world—“breeding”. They take snobbery to a new height. You’re in or you’re out, no middle ground.’

His gut clenched as he recalled their fights with Louise, their turning on him when he had defended her and Leon.

‘They were never happy with Leon being my best friend because, although he was wealthy enough to give his children the best education affordable, his father had begun his working life as a bricklayer. His building firm is my main contractor, always will be. When Leon asked their permission to marry Louise they practically threw him out, forbade him from seeing her.’

‘Which obviously didn’t work. Couldn’t they see how happy they were? How much he...he adored her?’ Her voice faltered over the last few words.

‘That didn’t factor in their thinking. Our wedding may not be conventional, but I’d like it to be an occasion you’ll remember fondly. There’ll be no one there who might upset you in any way. Telling them afterwards gives them no choice but to accept that we’re married.’

‘I understand.’ She began to slip the ring off. He stopped her.

‘Keep it on at home. For me.’ He brought her fingers to his lips for a second, then stood up. ‘I’ve also got something to help occupy your time. Close your eyes.’

Alina had no fear of natural darkness. It was her own internal black world that tormented her. So, as soon as she sensed him leave she covered her eyes with her hands and opened them.

Shame at the way she’d swayed forward for his kiss, had almost succumbed to him, fizzed in her stomach. At the time she’d seemed to be weightless, floating, with no power over her limbs or her actions. She didn’t resist. Didn’t participate.

When he’d sprung away the bewilderment had had her blathering like a drunk, made worse by his shocked expression and deliberate retreat, putting distance between them. He’d recovered first, bringing normality back to the conversation, seemingly putting their embrace behind him.

That was what she had to do—act like a mature woman. She took long deep breaths, calming her stomach. Her defensive shields were solid. Mind you, if they began to crumble...

‘Keep them shut.’

He’d returned.

‘Or covered.’

Must be looking at her.

She heard some clunks, and the drag of the coffee table. The cushions dipped as he sat next to her. Now her stomach sizzled with suspense.

‘This is for you.’

She stared in astonishment at the red laptop with matching mouse and butterfly motif pad. Alongside lay a hardcover notebook plus a boxed set of pens. Her hand flew to her mouth.

Grinning broadly, Ethan gently lowered it, then lifted the computer’s lid. ‘The password’s “bluesheen” at the moment.’

‘You bought this for me?’ Her incredulous gaze swung from his face to the laptop. Twice. She’d never had a computer of her own. Not with the nomadic life she lived. Though lately she’d been considering one of those lightweight notepads.

‘All yours. Complete with bag so you can take it anywhere.’

She touched the keyboard cautiously, her fingers tripping across the keys. He caught one and pressed it on ‘start’. The screen lit up and her eyes eagerly followed the process.

This was hers. Really hers. She turned to the man watching her with dark, hypnotic eyes. Swayed towards him again. Stopped. Touched his arm.

‘Thank you.’

She was lost for words.

So was Ethan for a moment. His heart pumped and the lump in his throat threatened to choke him. He’d seen the intent to kiss him in those sparkling violet eyes, and perversely he rued her change of mind.

‘You’re welcome. Mouse or touch?’ The connection for the wireless mouse was already in the port.

‘I’ve always used a mouse. I’ll have to learn to touch.’

Learn to touch him?

His chest tightened. He obviously hadn’t listened to his own pep talk.

She quickly bent forward and began to type in the password; her hair only partially covering her reddening skin. He wasn’t fooled by the action, and surmised she’d had the same thought.

‘Why “bluesheen”?’ The catch in her voice spoke volumes.

‘Came out of the air.’ She’d been wearing blue the day they met. ‘Easily changed.’

‘I love it. What are all these icons for?’

Her eyes shone with excitement, heightening his own pleasure.

‘Finding out is part of the fun. I’ve added the internet, an email account and cloud backup.’ He opened the notebook. ‘All the passwords are written in here, plus relevant names with phone numbers—including my IT guy, who set it up. He’s offered to give you one-on-one lessons if you like. I’m not too bad—he’s brilliant.’

‘Why? You know I won’t be staying, so why are you doing this?’

He shrugged. ‘Don’t argue—just accept it. You can enrol for online courses...there’s plenty to choose from.’ He lightened the mood by joking. ‘Imagine all the lists you’ll be able to create. And you know you’ll enjoy finding recipes.’

‘You may not think so when you have to eat my weird concoctions.’ She smiled back.

‘I’ll take my chances.’

His mobile rang. Bad timing. She was more at ease with him now than she’d ever been. Muttering a light curse, he wrenched the offending instrument out of his pocket, checked the caller. With a grimace he stood up.

‘I have to take this. Do you have dinner planned?’

‘Yes, but not started.’

‘Save it for tomorrow. I’ll book somewhere quiet where we can talk.’ He got to the end of the lounge and glanced back, his dazzling smile sending heatwaves to every region of her body.

‘You really do look exquisite, Alina.’

Another genuine compliment that gave her confidence another boost. It was hard to believe he’d bought her such a thoughtful gift she’d use in so many ways. The expense hardly registered with him. The time and effort he’d taken meant so much more.

Shutting down the laptop, she watched each process avidly, wanting to take in every little detail before carefully closing the lid. When she packed everything into the bag she found a charger and a set-up manual.

She’d intended to try shopping again tomorrow—now she’d rather stay home and browse. Anything she didn’t understand would go on a list to be shown to Ethan. Although at least one session with his IT specialist was a must.

After putting her embroidery into a craft bag, she went to her room to give her minimal make-up a light touch-up.

As she walked along the hall the muffled mingling of running water with what sounded like a mistuned radio came through his door. Curiosity made her stop and press an ear to the wood. The slightly off-key singing persisted, too indistinct for her to recognise the vaguely familiar song.

The shower stopped. She scurried away, her cheeks burning. If he caught her would he be angry or amused?

She couldn’t get that tune out of her head...couldn’t remember the title. Couldn’t ask him.

* * *

For Alina the family-owned restaurant with its discreet booth tables was ideal. She hadn’t asked the name of the suburb; that would be making it a memory for keeping. Though, perversely, she knew she’d never forget the tasty meal, the restful music from the live band...her attentive escort.

Couples were moving on to the small dance floor and she watched them with envy. She had once known how it felt to be held tenderly, barely moving in a traditional lovers’ slow shuffle. Without warning, images of all the women Ethan might have entertained here broke into her daydream. Stunning. Polished. Fashion connoisseurs who’d dance faultlessly.

‘Hey.’ His deep voice cut through her thoughts and she turned to meet his amused gaze. ‘You’re very pensive. Care to share?’

Not in a million years. The predictable warmth stole up her neck. ‘Just enjoying the music. The meal was delicious. Is this a favourite haunt of yours?’

‘A friend brought me here last year. I kept it in mind, waiting for a special occasion.’ He put his hand invitingly, palm up, on the table. ‘Never found one until today.’

Mesmerised by his incredible dark blue eyes, she laid her hand in his. He began to stroke her knuckles with his thumb. She dismissed the danger signals in her head. Her skin tingled from his touch. Her throat dried up, and liquid wasn’t the solution.

Had she been so sensitive to male contact before? Had her hormones gone this crazy ten years ago? Those memories were locked away, never, ever to be revisited.

Ethan had seen her wistful expression as she watched the couples moving around the floor, her body swaying in time to the music. She was in another world. A long-lost world? He wanted her in the here and now, totally focused on them.

She’d provoked an acute rush of satisfaction when she’d given him her hand. His heartbeat had spiked, unaccustomed yearning snaking through him. The eons-old urge of man to protect his child? Or primitive gratification that its mother trusted him to safeguard them both?

‘Dance with me, Alina.’

She glanced across the room, shook her head. ‘I’ll embarrass you. I only do modern stuff with no touching. Nothing like this.’ She gestured towards the dancers. ‘They are so graceful.’

‘No touching ever?’ His eyebrows rose in disbelief. ‘Or only since...?’ He left his question unfinished, didn’t need a reply.

She tried to free her hand, merely succeeded in twisting it so that his thumb pressed into her palm. Stopped resisting when he resumed his slow caress. Was he playing fair? Touching and kissing hadn’t been mentioned when they’d first made their agreement. There’d been no reason in that emotionless civil conversation.

‘You’re denying something you really want, Alina. Trust me. You’ll regret it if you don’t.’

Cautious eagerness dawned in her sceptical eyes. ‘Your toes might regret it if I do.’

He laughed, walked round the table without letting her go. ‘Let’s find out.’

Drawing her to her feet, he led her onto the dance floor. He placed her left hand on his shoulder, his right hand on her waist, then clasped her free hand in his, over his heart. Each movement was slow, deliberate. Non-threatening to her peace of mind.

‘Look at me, Alina.’

Alina did.

‘Trust me.’

She did.

‘Let me guide you.’

He held her firmly, murmured in her ear and directed her steps with his thighs. His breath tickled her earlobe, his cologne filled her nostrils. Heat radiated from his touch as he compensated for her initial stumbling. She let her muscles go loose, giving him full control of her movements.

They glided round the room as if floating on air. Her eyelids fluttered. The music combined with the man to create an ethereal realm she wished she could stay in for ever. No more sorrow. No more loneliness. She gave a soft sigh, glanced up—into a searing wave of cobalt desire.

Their feet stopped moving; their bodies swayed in time with the rhythm of the music. She couldn’t swallow, couldn’t breathe, yet she felt his deep intake of air. Felt...

Guilt—as strong and shattering as when she’d been the only survivor.

The magic dissolved into stark reality. She began to shudder—couldn’t stop. She tried to pull away, found herself being ushered to their table and gently settled into her seat. The strong arm stayed around her, supportive, grounding.

A moment later there were muffled words in a concerned tone, a deep reply. Deep as Ethan’s voice but clipped, disconnected, not like him at all. She did know that it was his fingers lifting her chin, and hazily wondered why they trembled.

‘Alina?’

She blinked, saw his pale face, his brow creased in concern. She bent her head, unable to find words to explain.

His hand dropped. ‘Let’s go home. We’ll talk there.’

‘No.’ Plaintive, even to her own ears.

‘We have to.’ Soft-spoken. Decisive.

They drove home in silence. Alina counted cars as they passed, timed their stops at traffic lights—anything to keep from dwelling on the talk ahead. Could she feign a headache? Believable in the circumstances, but delaying the inevitable.

If Ethan James wanted to talk, they’d talk—sooner rather than later.

CHAPTER EIGHT

ETHAN KEPT HER hand in his after locking the car, only letting go to allow her to enter the apartment first. How come she’d not only become used to that small intimacy but welcomed it? She dropped her bag onto the island, walked round to make hot drinks.

‘Would you like coffee?’ She reached for a bronze pod.

‘Make it a black pod. I need a strong kick.’ He was already walking towards the hall, discarding his jacket as he went.

Good idea. She picked up her bag and headed for her room to change. Jeans and a casual top were more conducive to a serious discussion.

In the few minutes it took her he’d returned, and their drinks were ready in the lounge.

‘Biscuits?’

She shook her head. ‘No, thank you.’

His lips twitched at the corners, just a tad. ‘Chocolate?’

So he’d noticed the wrappers in the bin and her stash in the cupboard. Again she declined. Why the heck was she being so formal? Last night the atmosphere had been light and friendly. Today even better. Until that moment when the past had reasserted its claim on her.

She sat in the corner of the settee, drawing her legs up tight when he chose one of the armchairs, putting extra space between them. She stared at the mug in her hands, dreading the words she might hear, fearing he might be annoyed if she couldn’t or wouldn’t answer.

‘We have to talk, Alina.’

The sombre tone of his voice brought her head up. His eyes had the sharp intensity she remembered from when she’d taken over filling in the marriage application. As if reading her inner thoughts was the only thing that mattered at this moment.

‘This isn’t going to work the way we are now. I’ve never had a problem with women before, but now I’m second-guessing what to do. For our baby’s sake we have to convince everyone we’ve had a passionate affair.’

‘And I’m failing miserably. I’m sorry, Ethan. I don’t know how... There was only ever...I...’ The words wouldn’t come. She bit the inside of her lip, looked down at her white knuckles gripping the hot mug.

His hollow laugh snapped her gaze back to his face.

‘I’m not doing much better, Alina. I never knew grief could be so overwhelming, so soul-draining. You brought some light into my dark world. Now you’re here—so sweet and beautiful, so vulnerable.’

He leant forward, hands clasped between spread knees.

‘I can’t deny the physical attraction. Can’t fathom whether it’s linked with knowing you’re carrying Louise’s baby. Tonight—the music, dancing with you in my arms—I was in a new world. I frightened you, and I’m sorry—’

‘No. It wasn’t you,’ she cut in. ‘There’ve been so many first-for-a-long-times for me, it’s bewildering. I feel like I’ve been thrown back into mainstream city living without a guidebook.’

She suddenly realised she was mimicking his stance, sharing his desire for their plan to succeed. Something shifted inside her, as if the extra tightening around her heart that had come when she’d heard about Louise and Leon had slipped a few notches. The old pain remained. She’d accepted only death would bring that to an end.

‘It’s only been four days. I didn’t expect to stay in Australia—much less with you.’ She smiled, watched as his eyes softened and his brow cleared. His answering smile lifted her heart. ‘I’m rusty in all the social niceties of sharing a home and...and things.’

He shifted as if to stand, sank back. ‘I don’t have a good track record there. I’ve only had two live-in relationships, neither here, and neither lasting more than five months. Both confirmed my belief that I’m not cut out for domesticity. I’m too pragmatic—and, as one of them pointed out, I’ve no romance in my soul. Assuming I have a soul.’

‘That’s better for us, isn’t it?’ Although did she really want him to stop his gentle touches, his scorching looks? His kisses?

‘No.’ Sharp. Instant.

He came to sit at the other end of the couch, folding one leg up, spreading one arm along the back. She wriggled into her corner and listened.

‘We need to create an illusion of instant attraction and overpowering passion. I’ve never been demonstrative with girlfriends in public. Little more than hand-holding and social greetings. So a good way to convince people our affair was different is to show affection in front of them.’

‘You mean kiss if someone’s watching?’

‘Alina, we’re implying that we had a short, tempestuous affair that resulted in your becoming pregnant. That you’re here with me now will tell everyone you mean more than any other woman I’ve dated. Which is true in the nicest way. Our limited knowledge of each other doesn’t matter—displaying our irresistible attraction does.’

‘So somewhere between how we’ve been and how Louise and Leon were?’ Not a hard task, considering the way she reacted to him each time they touched. As long as she kept her heart secure.

‘Definitely less blatant—though I envied them their intimacy. I can’t imagine having such a close bond with anyone. I’m aware I’ll have to change the way I think and act, make it credible to friends and family. It’s not only me who’ll be affected by our success.’

She locked eyes with his. ‘The baby.’

‘Our baby. It’s essential my parents believe that. You have to be comfortable with me as your partner, alone and in company.’

‘I can.’ She heard the slight tremor. ‘I will be.’ Better. Stronger.

Ethan slid his leg off the couch. ‘Come here.’

That persuasive honey tone. Those compelling cobalt eyes.

She sidled along until there was barely a hand’s length between them. His fingers lightly traced her cheek. His arm slid around her, loose yet secure.

‘Any time you feel uneasy, tell me.’

His slow smile had her leaning in closer.

‘Any time you feel like taking the initiative, go right ahead.’

He stroked her hair, laid her head on his shoulder and cradled her against his body. His heart beat strong and steady under her hand, an echo of hers. His voice, his cologne, everything about him was becoming familiar, safe. It was a feeling she refused to analyse.

‘We’ll keep to ourselves for a couple of weeks. When you’re ready I’d like to arrange dinner with the couple I hope will agree to be our witnesses. If we’re out and meet anyone I know I’ll introduce you only by name. After the wedding I’ll tell my parents, and then the whole world can know.’

‘All at once?’ she teased, liking the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed down at her.

She also liked the sound of the couple he went on to describe—friends he’d known for years, who’d also known and visited Louise and Leon.

They made small talk, sat in quiet contemplation, still in an amicable embrace. When it was time to retire it was she who raised her face for his tender goodnight kiss.

* * *

Ethan leant against the wall, his gaze fixed on the light under her door, not quite sure what had happened tonight. A week ago he’d have claimed the scenario he’d suggested held no qualms for him, apart from the discomfort of their public displays.

He’d have bet his finest hotel that his romantic emotions would not have been involved, and still didn’t quite believe they were. The trauma of losing his sister and best friend, the shock of Alina’s pregnancy, plus his determination to take responsibility for the child were a formidable combination. It was enough to scramble anyone’s senses.

He still believed his decisions had been made with logic and foresight, with the child’s future wellbeing his main consideration. Main? He meant only. He’d be a single father, with all the problems that entailed. Public displays had to be kept objective—surface emotion only.

Yet he couldn’t deny that Alina slipped under his guard whenever they were together, popped into his thoughts when they weren’t.

The light went out. He whispered, ‘Pleasant dreams...’ and went to his big, lonely bed.

* * *

Alina woke early, had coffee brewing and the table set for breakfast by the time Ethan walked down the hallway dressed for work.

‘Good morning.’ He sat opposite and poured his favourite sugarbomb cereal. ‘Do you want a lift anywhere this morning?’

‘No.’ Too quick. Too sharp.

Last night their decision had sounded plausible, simple to put into practice. This morning, as water had cascaded over her in the shower, she’d decided she wanted some alone time, to mull it over and fully accept its implications in her head.

‘I’d like to practise on the laptop. I bet there are functions I’ve never heard of.’

‘There are probably programs I’ve never used either. Any questions you have I’ll try to answer later. With luck, and few interruptions, I might only need a few hours at the office.’

‘Don’t you usually work all day on Saturday?’

‘Ah, that was the old me in the old days.’ His sparkling eyes belied his self-critical tone. ‘A pre-baby workaholic. Now I’m in training to be the best daddy ever.’ His voice roughened over the last sentence, and the sparkle dimmed a little.

Alina covered his hand with hers. ‘You will be, Ethan. You’ll be everything they’d want their child to have in a father.’

‘And mother.’

She jerked her hand away. He caught it.

‘There won’t be any other. I sure as hell won’t marry again just to provide maternal comfort or for the public two-parent image. I’ve learned from experience how a marriage held together purely for society standing can influence a child.’

That was why he’d have no problem letting her go, would never try to persuade her to stay.

There was no justification for the dejection that washed over her. No reason for the retort that burst from her.

‘Louise turned out fine. She was generous, warm-hearted and open. Even through her medical traumas there was always a genuine welcome for anyone at their home. You know how everyone loved her because she was...was...she was Louise.’

‘And I’m not like her?’ He released her hand, picked up his spoon.

‘I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant.’

‘No, but it’s true. She never changed from the sweet, wide-eyed creature the nanny at the time put into my arms when I was five. She grabbed my finger, gurgled, and I immediately forgave her for not being the brother I wanted.’

His light laughter was tinged with remorse.

‘I wish I’d been as courageous as her—constantly rebelling against the rigid conformity of our upbringing, openly making friends with people she liked, whether they were deemed acceptable or not. My way was quiet avoidance rather than personal confrontation.’

‘You kept Leon’s friendship, and championed them when they wanted to marry.’

He huffed. ‘My parents didn’t like that. I don’t think they’ve forgiven me for supporting Louise’s declaration that she’d happily have a park wedding without them. Not the “done thing” in their circle. It would have been embarrassing, so they capitulated.’

‘Do you see them regularly?’

‘We have little in common—different standards. They’d like me to be more involved in their close-knit elite group. I dislike the way they boast about my success to elevate their own status. They are, however, the only parents I have, so we maintain a polite relationship.’

He ate for a moment, eyes downcast. Pondering. Then looked up and spoke with determination.

‘Forget them for now. Cutting down my office hours is essential to my being available for appointments right now, and planning for our baby in the future. So I’ve been reorganising my staff.’

‘You’re delegating?

‘Even better—I’ve promoted. My second-in-command now has two assistant managers. Between the three of them they’ll take most of the day-to-day load off me. By the time our baby comes everything should be working smoothly enough for me to take paternity leave.’

‘Decision made. Action taken. Problem solved.’

‘You don’t approve?’ He sounded disappointed.

‘I do. Very much. It’s so much a part of who you are. And it’s been a long time since I’ve felt secure enough to depend on anyone for anything.’

She was paying him a compliment, saying what he should want to hear. Ethan shouldn’t feel aggrieved, but he did. She admitted to trusting and relying on him—both important to their relationship. But he wanted something different, something more. Something indefinable.

He pushed back his chair, picked up his bowl.

‘I’ll clear. You head off,’ Alina said, buttering a piece of cold toast.

‘Okay. I should be home early afternoon. Did you buy bathers?’

‘Yes, haven’t worn them yet.’

He hadn’t used the gym since Sunday. Or the pool since Tuesday evening, after their talk. He was normally a creature of habit and liked his routine, which included daily exercise and swimming early morning or evening. The less disruption, the less stress. If she worked out at the same time he’d know she was okay. It would be a start to getting his life back in control.

‘How about when I get home? We’ll work out, then swim.’

Her face lit up. ‘That sounds good.’

He went to his room, planning a positive day. A few minutes later he collected his briefcase from his study, and left.

* * *

Alina ate her toast and honey, mulling over her every encounter with Ethan. She’d developed a habit of deep thinking over people and situations during her solitary lifestyle. Sometimes she created fictional stories about them in her mind to pass the time.

This was real. The attraction between them was real—had been since the moment she’d turned from that window. She could understand her reactions. Suddenly thrown into enforced proximity with an attractive, virile man after seven years alone... Pregnant, with rampant hormones playing havoc with her emotions...

His puzzled her. She appreciated the need for them to give the impression they’d been lovers, so kissing was essential. The first kiss had been experimental, to judge her response, the second for show. The others... She wasn’t sure. Yet she’d sensed tension in him every time—right from the initial touch of his lips on hers. As if he was keeping a tight rein on his actions. Or on emotions he claimed not to have.

She sipped her camomile tea, pulled a face. Cold toast was okay—cold tea was not drinkable. It was time to get cracking.

She clicked on the kettle, cleared the table and set herself up for a morning’s exploration of the internet.

* * *

The sound of the front door opening had Alina’s head swinging round. A quick check of her watch surprised her. Ten to three. How could it be that late?

‘Hi, you’ve set yourself up pretty well, there. Good use of the dining table.’

How did this man’s smile make a good day seem brighter?

‘Better than leaning over the coffee table. Did you get what you wanted done?’

‘Finally—it took longer than I’d hoped.’ He leant over her shoulder to check her screen. ‘Agassi Falls? Planning a trip, Alina?’

‘Just having fun surfing,’ she replied. ‘I checked out some courses, then spent some time finding out what all the icons stand for.’

‘I trust you’ve been taking breaks and eating properly?’ Banana peel lay in a small dish, alongside an empty mug on the table.

‘Yes, sir. I’ve stretched every hour...done other stuff in between.’ She arched her back and smiled up at him. ‘This morning I went out for a short walk; this afternoon I went through your kitchen cupboards to see what’s there before looking up some recipes. I found a few meals we might enjoy, but—’

‘You can’t print them out. We’ll fix that on Monday, along with a desk and chair.’ He held out a red USB. ‘In the meantime copy and use mine.’

‘Thank you.’ She surprised both of them by rising up on her toes to kiss his cheek. ‘This is all I need. You don’t want to be left with excess stuff.’

Ethan opened his mouth to refute her claim. Changed his mind. Words weren’t going to change hers.

‘That’s my concern. Right now I’m psyched up for the session in the gym we agreed on.’ He took her hands, held her at arm’s length. ‘Hmm, nice tracksuit—you look as good in green as in blue. Give me five minutes.’

‘I’ll meet you there.’

He strode to his room, fantasising about the bathers she might be wearing under that outfit as he hastily pulled on T-shirt, bathers, track pants and sneakers. She was waiting for him, sitting on the press-ups bench. The lights were brighter than he usually set, the music a pleasant background sound.

‘Bike or treadmill for warm-up?’ she asked, offering him a bottle of water. ‘I don’t mind either.’

‘I’ll take the bike.’ It was still set up for him. ‘Twenty minutes okay?’

She agreed, and he selected a programme for mid-range difficulty. Settling into his normal pace was easy—resisting the temptation to watch Alina not so easy. She moved smoothly, gracefully.

‘I promise I won’t fall off.’ She’d caught him checking her out.

‘It’s been a while since anyone’s been here with me.’

Solitude in this special area had always been a plus. It was his private time, for releasing tension. Only occasionally had he invited anyone to join him. To his surprise, he didn’t mind Alina being there at all. In fact he felt downright glad to have her running alongside him. A feeling that unnerved him a little, causing him to switch back to getting-to-know-you mode.

‘What sort of keep-fit do you do on the move?’

‘Depends on the current job. Crop-picking, dog-walking or waitressing are usually enough. If it’s in an office I run, or do casual sessions at pools or gyms.’

‘Whoa—back up. Dog-walking?’

Her laugh, the first genuine one she’d given, zipped through him. Musical and light, it was a sound he wanted to hear again. Often.

‘It’s fun, challenging or downright exhausting, depending on the size or number of pooches. And always available in any city, any country.’

‘Ever lose any?’ The more he learned, the more fascinated he became.

CHAPTER NINE

‘NO. I HAD one Labrador who didn’t want to go back to his owner, but I didn’t blame him. The woman’s perfume was so overpowering it clogged my throat.’

She blushed and bent her head. So delightfully embarrassed he wanted to jump off and comfort her.

‘Hey, yours just didn’t suit you. On another woman it’d be different.’

‘Someone more flamboyant? More “out there”? It was a Christmas gift from a temporary boss, probably recycled. The box had been opened.’

‘Now you have the perfect fragrance for you—delicate, reminding me of sunshine and flowers. Ethereal...’ He chuckled. ‘Maybe not the last one. Though sometimes you do drift off into another world.’

Alina was grateful for the distinct ping announcing the end of her programme. She stepped off as the machine slowed down. Moved over to the weights.

For the next thirty minutes they rarely spoke, each concentrating on their own exercises. She’d have been completely relaxed if she’d been able to block out the male effortlessly lifting weights alongside her, built well enough to play A-league football.

He smiled whenever their eyes met in the huge wall mirror, disconcerting her. His T-shirt moulded to his sculpted chest and muscular upper arms. Her breath hitched every time his biceps firmed as he curled or lifted weights. She felt hot, sweaty, much more than she ever had while exercising before.

Deciding she’d done enough, she walked over to the pool. Discarding her tracksuit, she used the ladder, shivering as she descended into the cool water. Made a mental note to ask him to up the temperature. Taking a deep breath, she ducked under, sinking to the bottom, then shooting up. She grabbed the rail, shaking her head, refilling her lungs... Found herself staring at a pair of slender feet attached to tanned legs with a light covering of black hair.

She tilted her head for a slow scan past firm calves to the muscular thighs that had steered her round the dance floor last night...and a pair of black swimming trunks that left no doubt as to his manhood.

Her mouth dried; her pulse raced. Her body heat overrode the chill from the surrounding water. She didn’t dare meet his eyes, chose the coward’s path and swung into a freestyle stroke away from him. Quickened her pace at the sound of a splash behind her.

Ethan overtook her, touched and turned at the end. He was still below the surface as they passed again. She recovered her composure, slowed to her normal leisurely pace. This wasn’t a contest.

Six laps were enough for her.

She sat on the top of the ladder, wrapped in a towel, her feet dangling. She ought to leave. Shower and dress. Think about dinner—no, too early for that. She stayed. Not sure why, except that it was mesmerising, watching Ethan churn through the water, hardly making a ripple. The way he went through life: single-minded, controlled.

He swam like a machine—clean, even strokes, powering along the pool, flipping like a seal at the end. She timed his push-offs. Always constant. So precise. So coordinated.

She frowned. He’d dipped in front of her on his last turn, hadn’t resurfaced. Suddenly he burst upward from the water, making her jump. His chest skimmed her legs as he rose, catching hold of the rail for stability.

‘Waiting for me?’ He grinned, spraying her with tiny drops as he shook his head.

‘Hey!’

He levered himself higher so they were on eye level. ‘It’s only water. Anything special you’d like to do tomorrow? We’ll have all day.’

‘Oh. No work or commitments?’

‘None. I’m all yours. Stay home, and relax. Go for a drive. Walk on the beach. Your choice.’

How was she supposed to make an instant decision with him so close that there was a hint of his cologne in the chlorine-scented air? With his glistening muscled torso inches from her twitching fingers? With his appealing blue eyes offering her something she refused to name?

‘A ferry ride.’ Out of the blue. From somewhere in her past.

His eyebrows almost met his dripping hairline. ‘You want to go on a ferry?’

She nodded. ‘The Manly Ferry across the heads. I used to love it during the winter in rough weather.’

His smile shot into a scowl. ‘No way are you going out in a storm.’ Grated out. Possessive.

She laughed, recognising the over-protective tone. ‘They don’t cross in really rough weather. I don’t get seasick. And it’s spring.’

He relented, didn’t look convinced. ‘We’ll decide at Circular Quay.’

He twisted, hoisted himself out onto the pool side and picked up the towel he’d left nearby. Alina stood, heading for the door as he patted excess water from his body. He caught her arm and took her towel from her.

‘Stand still.’

He moved behind her, began to dry her hair, firmly yet gently. It was soporific, soothing. She arched her neck in pleasure, sighed when he dropped the towel and began to massage her neck and shoulders. Trembled when his hot breath teased the pulse under her ear.

‘Your muscles are taut as a drum. A proper massage might help.’

From him? Considering he was the main reason for their tension, she doubted it, but his offer was tempting.

‘There’s a beauty parlour in the next block. Make an appointment.’

Why had it suddenly become less appealing?

* * *

After Alina had retired for the night Ethan turned off the television and dimmed the lights. Then, sipping brandy, his feet up on the coffee table, he tried to make sense of the mayhem his normally ordered life had become.

He was committed to becoming a short-term husband and a lifelong father. He was becoming attached to a woman whose heart and love belonged to a dead guy. Her response to him was merely physical. His carefully planned future was now a day-by-day unknown.

* * *

Ethan suggested they put light coats, plus anything else she wanted to take, into her backpack—which he’d carry. He deliberately lingered over breakfast, determined to use their outing to ease any tension between them, make this a day for light conversation with no conflict.

It was mid-morning as they strolled towards Circular Quay. After guiding her across the first road he linked their fingers, claiming it would prevent them from being separated by the crowds already building up. She didn’t argue, seemed content to let him be protective. He was rapidly becoming more comfortable with the feeling.

Had to curb it when, while drinking water and watching the boats, she declared she’d love to do the Harbour Bridge climb.

Alina hadn’t forgotten the sheer joy of crossing the heads to Manly on a windy day in choppy seas. She’d purposely blocked it from her mind. Now she realised how much she’d missed the city she’d lived in for so many years.

Today it was fairly mild, until they reached the gap leading to the ocean. She felt alive, leaning on the rail, facing into the breeze, letting it prickle her skin and tease her hair. Nautical toots and engine noise, calls from yachts as they sailed past, all combined with the sounds of circling seagulls to fill her world.

‘There’s nothing like this anywhere—nothing so exhilarating.’ She twisted her head to smile up at Ethan, braced behind her, his hands on the rail either side of her.

His expression said he didn’t quite agree. She turned back, leant well forward, as if searching, unsure how to express the way she felt. He repeatedly said that he owed her, but she hadn’t expected him to show it so personally, to spend so much time with her. Covering her living costs would have been ample.

‘Hey.’ One arm wrapped round her. ‘It’s a long way down.’

‘I’m looking for dolphins.’

‘Wrong area for them. Wrong season for whales.’

Husky tone, hot breath fanning her ear.

‘Some friends and I did a whale-watching trip along the coast a few years ago. Mid-June, I think. If you’re feeling up to it, we’ll go.’

‘I’d love it.’ She let him draw her back against his chest. Breathed in the salty air. And him. Let herself live in the moment.

Ethan wondered if she knew how captivating she looked. Genuinely happy, with flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes, she was irresistible. He made a mental note to arrange a day’s sailing with friends.

He cupped her cheek, bringing her face round to his. ‘Nothing like it. Definitely no sight more beautiful,’ he murmured, dipping his head to capture her mouth. He saw her eyes darken. Felt her tremble. Silently agreed: it was exhilarating.

The ferry lurched, breaking them apart. He grabbed the rail again, trapping her safely between his arms. They rocked in unison as the boat ploughed through the rough swell. General conversation might be safer.

‘I have to confess the only ferries I’ve been on for years have been for corporate evening events with catered food and drinks. My friends and I used to think day-old pies and cold cans of drink were the ultimate meal.’

He realised how many other simple pleasures he’d left behind as he built his Starburst chain. Pleasures Alina understood and still enjoyed. His adrenaline surged at the thought of her helping him rediscover them. Then she’d go, leaving him to share them with their child. He trembled at the challenge.

Alina felt it and looked round.

‘That wind’s cold. Do you want to go inside?’ he said.

He wasn’t lying. It went right through the jacket he’d put on before boarding. Hers wasn’t much heavier.

‘You’re kidding? Inside is for sensitive people, small children or the wuss breed. There’s hot drinks and delicious fish and chips waiting near the docks.’

She turned back to watch their approach into Manly.

Ethan nestled his head against hers. ‘Okay, but if I catch a chill you have to nurse me.’

The sound she gave was suspiciously like a giggle. ‘No chance. No virus would dare attack you without an appointment.’

He stiffened. Was that the impression he gave? Good humour won him over. A week ago she’d been wary of him, anxious about his reaction to her pregnancy. Ready with a plan to have the baby alone if he denied her. He felt a warm glow deep in his gut. If she liked him enough to bait him he must be doing something right.

So he had a reputation for being hardnosed in business? He also was known for being fair and trustworthy.

* * *

Late on Monday morning Alina walked through the foyer, trying to pep-talk away her apprehension. Exercising hadn’t helped. The line between truth and tacit lies seemed so tenuous. She was not the biological mother—had to persuade everyone she was. She and Ethan had never been lovers, had shared only a few kisses—one long one for an observer’s benefit. Were required to act as if they’d had a passionate affair.

Her trepidation had increased when she’d realised he’d been rescheduling appointments to accommodate her and the problems she’d brought him. This morning he’d left early for a meeting postponed from Wednesday. Thirty minutes ago he’d phoned to ask her to come down and meet the car as he’d be running late.

For the baby. For Louise and Leon.

Repeating her mantra silently, she went outside to wait in the shade, praying he wasn’t stuck in a traffic jam. The vehicle pulled in to the kerb as if summoned by her plea. She hurried forward, not giving the driver a chance to alight. Scrambling in, she dragged the door shut, leaving Ethan leaning forward awkwardly with his arm extended.

‘Oh, sorry.’ She gulped in a quick breath, inhaled his distinctive cologne. Flicked him an apologetic grin. ‘I’m not used to having someone take care of me.’

‘That lesson I’m learning.’ Cobalt eyes appraised her as the car moved off. ‘You look anxious, Alina.’ He caressed her jaw line, tilted her chin.

‘What do you expe—?’

He cut off her rebuke by firmly pressing his lips to hers. Her heartbeat hiccupped, doubled in speed. Sent her blood racing along her veins.

The kiss lasted less than a moment. Or for ever. Too long. Too short. She slumped against the seat and stared at him, too befuddled to think coherently. The piercing eyes holding hers hostage showed no sign of the turmoil he’d inflicted.

She consciously steadied her breathing. ‘You should warn me.’ It came out like a husky plea for more rather than a reproach.

Ethan gave a low chuckle that resonated over her skin and skittered down her spine. ‘So it’s okay to kiss you any time as long as I don’t surprise you?’

His amusement stretched already taut nerves. ‘That’s not what I meant.’ She scrunched her eyes and bit on her lip.

‘I’m not insensitive, Alina.’ He lifted his hand. Let it drop. ‘Every time I touch you I’m very aware of how you feel. Remember we need to portray a couple who can’t resist each other?’

For him it was all for public image, so his declaration should please, not disappoint. Stupid hormones. She so had to check with the doctor why they were affecting her this way. In private.

‘I can handle the pretence.’ Liar. ‘I’m getting used to it.’ Double liar. ‘It’s... The doctor might ask for information I can’t...can’t give.’

‘Ah...’

As if he understood. She shook with frustration. ‘No, you don’t get it. I can give her the dates she’ll need, fudge the method of conception. It’s... She’s bound to ask...’

It had been bad enough writing details on the clinic’s patient information forms he’d accessed on Friday. She’d thanked him for his considerate action in allowing her to fill out her medical history privately. It was the idea of it being voiced out loud that was eating at her. There was no way to explain the dark place where she’d buried the unbearable pain and heartbreak.

He wrapped his arms around her, drew her into his warmth. His hands began a soothing caress over her spine.

His voice was gentle, as if speaking to a child. ‘You’re not alone, Alina. I’ll be with you.’ His hands stilled. ‘Unless you want to see her alone.’

Of course she did.

‘No, that’s cowardly. I can handle it.’ Her quivering voice proved otherwise.

‘Are you sure?’

He meant it. And the compassion in his blue eyes and the generosity of his offer gave her strength.

‘You may have questions too. Besides, the father has the right to be there.’ With a jolt of amazement, she realised a simple truth. ‘I’d like you to be there.’

‘I am the father...’ His large hand covered her abdomen. ‘My baby. Our child.’

She didn’t protest and he appeared satisfied. She’d never be able to use that phrase, never be able to care that way again. Hearing it resonate from him relieved her. He was going be a great father.

* * *

Ethan linked his fingers with hers as they entered the light, hospitable clinic. Her anxiety was palpable and he had no remedy. Give him a struggling business to rescue any time.

‘Relax, Alina. It’s only a preliminary examination.’

At least his words earned him a faint smile. He steered her into an empty elevator and pressed the button. The compulsion to comfort her and drive the shadows from her soulful eyes rippled through him.

‘We’re bending the truth for our child’s sake, Alina. The book claims doctors need dates and medical history—nothing more. No one’s going to pry into your personal history.’

Her eyes widened in astonishment. ‘What book?’

‘The one I bought Tuesday morning, specifically written for expectant fathers.’ His mouth twisted. ‘Very informative and downright scary.’

They stopped and he guided her out.

She handed in the forms and her obligatory urine sample at Reception and were directed to an empty waiting room. Light classical music played softly in the background. Alina sat idly flipping the pages of a magazine. Ethan filled two plastic cups from an orange juice dispenser and offered one to her.

She accepted it with a noticeably shaky hand and his heart sank. He noticed her agitated finger movements, half hidden by the bag on her lap, finishing in a clenched fist. Hoping their appointment wasn’t delayed, he put his cup on the low table and wrapped steadying fingers around her hand.

‘Patricia Conlan has a very good reputation.’ He raised the hand clasping the cup to her lips. ‘Now, drink. Slowly.’

Alina obeyed, emptying the cup. He drained his, took both cups to a bin, then returned to sit beside her, studying a poster on the wall opposite.

She kept her eyes downcast, wishing she had his self-discipline. He’d been predictably shaken by her initial bombshell, and angry a few times during subsequent conversations, but he’d rapidly recovered his composure every time. She, on the other hand, had trouble keeping any control over her emotions.

She glanced sideways, surprised to find him looking more nervous than he’d let on. The long supple fingers of his right hand thrummed on his thigh, and she recalled them spanning her stomach. The image of them sensuously exploring her body flashed into her brain, and she couldn’t stifle a throaty gasp.

He jerked round. ‘Alina, are you all right?’

‘Alina Fletcher?’

She jumped up, willing her burning cheeks to cool, grateful for the interruption from the uniformed woman in the doorway.

They were ushered into the consulting room.

‘Dr Conlan will be with you in... Ah, here she is.’

‘Alina, Ethan. It’s nice to meet you.’ The fortyish woman with slightly mussed brown hair and bright blue eyes clasped her hands, then Ethan’s, in genuine welcome.

‘Let’s sit down and get acquainted.’ She emanated compassion and invited trust.

‘Thank you, Dr Conlan.’ Alina took a seat, placing her handbag on the floor as a folder was opened and perused. Even Ethan’s reassurance couldn’t dispel her feeling of foreboding at the thought of queries about her past. An occasional note was written, an occasional ‘hmm’ mouthed.

She noticed a slight resemblance to her husband’s Aunt Jean, triggering a pang of guilt. She’d only kept in token touch with everyone, had avoided personal contact. In a few weeks she’d have to notify them that she was living in Sydney. Remarried. Having another baby. The latter when Ethan decided to make the announcement.

Sneaking a peek at him, she met genuine concern. Whatever he saw caused him to take her hand, link their fingers and squeeze. He had no idea how calming those slight actions were.

Dr Conlan laid down her pen and glasses, placed her elbows on her desk and linked her fingers. She smiled sympathetically.

‘I appreciate this must revive painful memories for you, Alina, and I sincerely hope your new baby brings you happiness.’

Ethan squeezed her hand again.

‘The sample you brought in officially confirms your pregnancy. If you’d like to go into the examination area, I’ll be in shortly. We’ll talk after.’

Alina went to the open doorway indicated. The faint murmur of voices drifted in as she prepared and lay down on the examining table. She stared at the ceiling, silently chanting her mantra.

CHAPTER TEN

NICE AS THE doctor was, Alina felt relieved as they left. A referral for an ultrasound and an appointment card were in her handbag. Ethan held the door open, his free hand clasping the pamphlets they’d been given.

She’d seen his surreptitious peek at his watch in the elevator. Catching his arm she stopped them both. ‘You need to get back to the office, don’t you?’

‘There’s always work to be done. We can—’

‘Hail a taxi and I’ll drop you off. The sooner you get back, the less chance of staying late.’ And she’d have some quiet contemplation time to mull over the doctor’s advice, read those pamphlets, and fully accept the path she’d chosen.

His cobalt eyes gleamed with gratitude. His fingers rested gently on her cheek for a moment. ‘Spoken like a true corporate wife.’ He looked round. ‘There’s a snack bar over there. I’ll grab a sandwich to eat at my desk.’

He made one call during the taxi ride to his office, booking the ultrasound for Monday the twenty-first of April at ten. She wrote the date and time in her notebook as he repeated them for confirmation, realising it was the day after the wedding. When she would be recorded as his wife.

Ethan sensed a change in her. Was she too beginning to realise the enormity of their agreement, so simple in words, so complex and mind-boggling in reality? In front of the doctor he’d claimed to be the father of her child. He’d said ‘our baby’, ‘our child’ so easily. Now he had to fulfil the promises he’d made to Alina and his sister’s memory.

His pragmatic nature demanded everything be put in place quickly, privately. Nothing left to chance, no hesitation that might give anyone cause to believe he doubted his paternity. Even before she’d agreed he’d set up appointments without considering the effect on her. Even after learning of her loss he hadn’t deviated from his plan.

He hadn’t allowed for the reality—hadn’t understood the impact it would have on them both.

He reached for her hand, breathed in her sweet fragrance. She didn’t react; lost in a world he had no right to access.

The taxi was nearing his office. He tilted her chin, took in her subdued expression and almost told the driver to keep going. What could he say or do? Nothing until she was ready to confide in him. A quick kiss on her forehead produced little response. He had no right or reason to be disappointed. Only a week ago he’d walked out on her.

* * *

Alina’s head was inside the kitchen island cupboard when the intercom buzzed at about eleven the next morning. She’d just managed to reach the small can in the back corner and jerked at the sound, banging her head.

She walked over to the front door. Hesitated. Ethan hadn’t mentioned anyone coming. Would he want her to answer? Another buzz. She pressed.

‘Hello.’

‘Good morning. Is Ethan at home?’

The hairs on the back of her neck lifted at the high-pitched, cultured voice. Her mouth dried. She swallowed twice, rubbed her neck. Finally managed a croaky reply. ‘No, I’m sorry, he’s not.’

‘I’m Sophia James. May I come up?’

His mother—judgemental to the nth degree. Far worse than the ex-girlfriend she’d suspected. Should she let her in? What would she do if Alina refused her entry?

‘Hello? Are you still there?’ Slightly peeved.

‘Please come up.’ Denial only delayed the inevitable. In three weeks Sophia would be her mother-in-law. For a short time anyway.

She raced to her bedroom to check her appearance. After brushing her already neat hair she went slowly back, taking long lung-filling breaths. Waited, slowly counted to nine after the bell rang before opening the door.

Sophia James was the epitome of a stylish, sixtyish woman with all the resources to fight any sign of ageing. From her coiffured dark hair to the handmade high-heeled shoes colours matched, everything fitted perfectly. There was nothing soft about her at all. Not a trace of warmth in her red lips or in her flat brown eyes.

Alina felt an irrational zing of satisfaction that both this woman’s children had expressive blue eyes, clearly inherited from another family member.

‘Please come in,’ she said, standing aside.

Sophia walked in with an air of entitlement, scanning the area as if it were her territory. Scanning Alina as if she were an applicant for a lowly household position.

‘You are not the cleaner. Why isn’t Ethan here with you?’

Spoken as if she couldn’t be trusted to be alone in his home. She felt a twinge of insecurity, then pride came to her rescue. She lifted her chin, squared her shoulders. She’s Ethan’s mother. Treat her with respect. She’s the baby’s grandmother. That last thought eased her resentment. This lady would not take kindly to any of the traditional titles given to a grandmother.

‘I’m Alina Fletcher. Would you like coffee or tea? Ethan’s at work.’ She held back on saying, But I’ll bet you know that.

‘Mild coffee, thank you. White. No sugar.’ As if she were ordering from a waitress in a café.

Alina watched as Sophia stopped before entering the lounge, giving the area a thorough scrutiny before selecting one of the armchairs. Giving the impression that she had never seen the decor before. After popping a pod into the machine Alina joined her, staying on her feet to attend to the drinks.

‘You’re the girl with Ethan in the photograph a friend texted to me. You were kissing in the street, and now you’re acting like this is your home. Are you living with him?’ Blunt and insulting.

She made a point of staring at Alina’s bare left hand, made no attempt to hide her displeasure. Alina’s attitude swung again. How dared this woman question and insult her?

‘I don’t discuss my private business with strangers.’

Sophia’s lips thinned, almost disappeared. Her back stiffened. ‘I’m his mother. I have a right to know.’

‘Then perhaps you should ask him. Next time we’re in contact I’ll ask him to get in touch.’

It was a definite dismissal. Forget coffee. Alina wanted her gone.

The scathing look Sophia gave her was defused by the dull shade of red flooding her face. She rose stiffly to her feet.

‘Be warned, Ms Fletcher. You don’t fit. You may have him fooled for a short time, but his contemporaries will see through you as easily as I do.’

Her movement to the door was as near to a stomp as Alina had ever seen anyone do in heels. She followed, far enough behind so that Sophia had to open the door herself.

She turned for a parting shot. ‘Even suitable girls don’t seem to last long with Ethan. Your novelty will quickly pall for a man of my son’s impeccable taste.’

She swept out, leaving the door open.

Alina closed it, shaking with disbelief. She uncurled her clasped fingers to enable them to rub the back of her neck, tilted her head to the ceiling. What had she done? Apart from insulting his mother, and practically throwing her out of his home, she’d given the impression she had authority here.

Ethan hadn’t wanted his parents to know about her yet. A public kiss hardly equated domestic cohabitation. Should she have lied?

Her head reeled.

Should she wait ’til he came home to tell him, when she’d be able to see his reaction? What if Sophia rang him first with a distorted version of events?

Taking bites of some dark rich chocolate for courage, she debated the pros and cons...

‘She what?’ The outrage in Ethan’s voice seared down the phone line. She’d got no further than telling him his mother had visited before he’d exploded.

‘I’m sorry, Ethan. I didn’t know whether to let her in. I—’

‘She’s never been there before—never been invited. What did she want?’ Barked out, agitating her even more.

‘Someone sent her a photo of us kissing. I didn’t know what to tell her.’

She’d screwed up. No, he’d put her in that position by keeping her a secret. It was his family who had the issues.

‘You should contact her. I...I... I’ll see you tonight.’

She hung up.

* * *

‘Alina?’

She’d gone. Ethan realised his knuckles were white from his grip on the mobile phone. His free fist ground onto his desk. She’d sounded distressed. What the hell had his mother said to her?

He’d never been so angry. Or so worried when Alina didn’t answer his call back. He selected his mother’s number.

‘Ethan, we haven’t heard from you for a while.’

Not since they’d criticised the wording for the gravestone. Lucky for her there was half a city between them else he’d be tempted to throttle her.

‘So you thought you’d pop into my home when you knew I wasn’t there?’

She spluttered. He gave her no chance to refute his claim.

‘Don’t bother denying it. My receptionist logged the same female voice yesterday, saying she might call in. Your voice is quite distinctive.’

It wasn’t said as a compliment. Anyone who truly knew him would have been wary of his low, controlled tone.

‘I was worried. I’d received a photograph of you with that girl I met in your apartment.’

He almost lost it at her throwaway reference to Alina. Gritted his teeth, needing to know how his mother had discovered she was there. He waited for a long, tense moment.

‘Okay, I described her to an acquaintance who lives a few floors below you. She said she’d seen her—sometimes alone, sometimes with you. I’m only looking out for your welfare, Ethan. There’s something not quite right about her. She just about ordered me out.’

‘After, I’m guessing, you began to interrogate her. Listen carefully, Mother. You’ll have no more contact with me at all if you bother Alina again. Understand?’

‘Ethan, you—’

‘Goodbye, Mother.’

He dragged his fingers through his hair. Alina, sweetheart, you didn’t deserve that. I made a mistake—should have known she’d start digging at the slightest rumour I might be dating.

He tried the apartment. No answer. Tried Alina’s number twice more. It went to voicemail each time.

* * *

There was no sound in the apartment, no sign of Alina. Her mobile lay on the kitchen island. She has to be here. Has to be.

Ethan strode to her bedroom. The breath he felt he’d been holding for ever whooshed out at the sight of her handbag by her dressing table. Her bathroom door was open. Not there. One place left to check.

The gym area was silent apart from the low hum of the water pumps. The lights were dimmed, giving him limited vision of the figure floating in the pool. The only movements were slight flicks of her feet, gently propelling her along towards him. A rush of relief swamped his body. He sagged against the doorjamb, his heart racing. He’d had no reason to think she would run, yet he’d feared she might.

Wiping his hand over his mouth, he wondered why this fragile, damaged woman stirred him as no one ever had. It went deeper than the embryo she carried. His anger towards his mother had been at her treatment of Alina. His concern had been solely for Alina’s feelings.

He toed off his shoes, stripped to his boxer shorts, watching her slow progress through the water. Not wanting to startle her, he walked along the side, meeting her halfway. Felt his lips curl. How did she keep a straight line with closed eyes?

They flew open, though he’d swear he’d never made a sound. Her head turned. One look into sorrowful violet and he dived in, surfacing next to her. He hauled her into his arms, the anxiety he’d experienced giving his action more force than he’d intended.

He buried his head in her neck, his lips seeking her pulse, his heart rate lifting at the feel of its erratic beat. The feel of her hands clasping his shoulders, her legs brushing his as they trod water, the tantalising aroma from her skin—all heightened his senses.

Her wrists stiffened, preventing him from drawing her closer. He raised his head, meeting censure in her eyes.

‘Alina, I...’ Where the hell were the words he needed? ‘You hung up on me. Didn’t answer your phone.’

Indignation flared, making the colour of her eyes even more stunning. Her hands lifted and slammed onto his skin, clearing his mind. He huffed out air, drew in fresh breath, regained control.

‘I’m not angry, Alina—not at you. You sounded so upset. When you didn’t pick up I was...’ Admit it. Tell her how you felt. ‘I’m not sure what I felt. Just knew I had to see you, hold you.’

‘Your mother—’

‘Had no right to come here. If I’d even suspected she might I’d have told you not to grant her entry. I’m sorry, Alina—and, believe me, so is she right now.’

‘You’ve talked to her?’

His chest tightened. Hadn’t she believed him when he’d said he’d protect her?

‘More like a short, angry lecture. Plus her one and only warning. I made it clear if she upsets you again I’ll have even less contact with them.’

‘That’s a bit drastic. They’re your family, Ethan. I knew about her attitude, so I shouldn’t have overreacted—though she certainly lived up to her reputation.’ Her tone softened with regret. ‘I’m really messing up your life, aren’t I?’

He shook his head. ‘Quite the opposite, Alina Fletcher. You enrich my life every day. You and our baby have changed my world.’

Her hands relaxed, allowing him to tighten his hold, bringing them into full body contact. Her fingers traced a featherlight path up his neck, across his chin. A glimmer of desire flickered in her eyes. It was satisfying for a few seconds—until his body responded to the flimsy barrier of cotton bathers and silk boxers between them, to the press of her breasts on his bare chest. To the flesh-on-flesh contact of their thighs.

His mouth crashed down on hers. No preamble, no gentle brush of lips—this was need, satisfying a hunger that had been building for days. From that first gut-clench, that first look into her haunted eyes.

He tilted her head for better contact, took what she offered, his tongue caressing hers, tangling, tasting the sweetness he’d dreamt of. And she was an active participant, giving and receiving, her fingers weaving into his hair, holding his head to hers.

His heart thumping, pulses pounding at every point, his lungs screaming for air, he had never felt so gloriously alive.

Reluctantly breaking the kiss, still holding her close, he gazed into violet eyes as bright as the stars in a moonless night, stunned and bewildered by the ardency of their kiss. He’d crossed an unspoken boundary, knew he should apologise. Knew it would be a lie.

‘Do you want another apology?’

How could Alina ask an apology of him when she’d willingly contributed to the kiss? When she’d seen the concern in his eyes as he’d surfaced beside her? When it had been him she’d been thinking of as she’d floated in the semi-darkness, lost in a hopeless fantasy?

There’d been no sound—only a crackling in the air surrounding her skin. She’d opened her eyes and dream had become reality. A splash and a moment later she’d been enveloped in strong arms, his lips nuzzling her neck.

As if nothing had happened. As if his mother hadn’t treated her with contempt. She’d bristled, hit him in an effort to get away.

His sincere contrition had chastened her; his defence of her had quelled her resentment. His claim that she enhanced his life had spun her back into her daydream and his kiss had been everything she’d imagined and more. She could no longer deny that she wanted him—rampantly hormonal or for real. Where that took them, she had no idea.

‘I don’t ever want you to say sorry unless you truly mean it. I’m the one who ought to apologise, for acting like an immature schoolgirl. I should have kept calm this morning and placated her.’

She was blurting out waffle, keeping back the words she really wanted to say.

The incongruity of the situation suddenly hit her. She was in a dimly lit pool, treading water with an almost naked, definitely aroused man whose very presence threatened her safe, isolated, unemotional existence.

‘Ethan, I...I can’t... Oh, hell, I can’t shop.’

Ethan’s eyes widened when she swore. His hold loosened, giving her the chance to paddle backwards, putting distance between them. He caught her at the steps, his touch light yet compelling. His hand framed her cheek. His little finger lifted her chin, enabling him to study her face with the intensity she no longer found intimidating. Especially when the warm, caring gleam in his dark blue eyes said he’d wait as long as it took for her to confide in him.

She quivered: from his look, from his hold, from her fear of his reaction. From everything about him.

His lips curled in reassurance. ‘If I let you go now, will you explain what that meant when you’re dry and dressed?’

When she’d had time to rethink, time to decide to try again. When he’d be corporately attired, in his business persona again.

Her eyes blurred with tears. She needed help—the sooner the better.

‘Of course I can shop—that’s ridiculous. It’s buying stuff to wear when I meet the people in your world that’s so daunting. Those fancy boutiques scare me; even the upmarket department stores are discouraging if you don’t follow the latest trends. Reading magazines doesn’t help, because I have no idea what’s suitable for what event.’

‘I like you in blue.’ Instant and believable. He gently wiped the corners of her eyes with his thumb. ‘And your new dresses look great.’

‘They were easy. Summer daywear. Once I start meeting people you know I’ll be judged on how I look, what I wear. How I speak. I’m afraid I’ll fail you.’

Her mouth stayed open, unable to form more words as her brain seized on her last thought. Failing Ethan, having her unsuitable image impact on him, was her number one fear. Perhaps an avoidable situation if one woman had behaved as a loving mother should.

‘Why couldn’t your mother be more like Louise? Then I’d be able to ask her for help.’ As soon as the words were spoken she wished them back. Gave a choked snort of a laugh.

‘Stupid question. If she were we wouldn’t be having this conversation. I need to manage by myself.’

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