An Heir for the Millionaire (10 page)

‘But it was never,
never
that that stopped you telling me about Joey. It was because you could not bear to have anything to do with the man who had hurt you—because you love me.' His voice changed, and she could hear the pain in it. ‘I've wronged you so much, Clare. Four years ago I hurt you unbearably—and I've hurt you again. I can't ask for your love again, but I will win it back—with all my being. Ah, no, don't weep, Clare—not for me, never for me!' His thumbs smoothed again, but her eyes were spilling, spilling uncontrollably, and her face was crumpling, and she couldn't stop, couldn't stop.

He wrapped her to him. And the feel of his arms going about her, holding her so close, so safe, was the most wonderful feeling in all the world, all there could ever be. He held her so tightly, as if he would never,
could
never let her go. She could hear words, murmuring, soothing, and she could not understand them, but it did not matter.

She could hear them in her heart. Know them in her heart.

And it was all she needed. All she would ever need.

 

Slowly, holding her hand, Xander walked her back towards the villa.

‘I didn't know anything about love. Did not know that that was what I had started to feel for you. I only knew that you were a woman I did not want to lose. A woman whose cool composure seemed to inflame me with desire.'

A sensual, reminiscent smile played at his mouth, and Clare felt the so-familiar weakness start inside her.

‘It got to me—every time. More and more. I revelled in the
difference that only I could make in you, the sensuality beneath the surface that only I could release in you. When we were out together I didn't like you to touch me. I liked you to look untouched—untouchable. Waiting for me. Waiting for me to get you back to the hotel, the apartment, where I could finally indulge myself in doing what I'd been holding back from all evening…'

Clare looked at him. Was that why he had been like that? Not because he'd thought her out of line being physically demonstrative towards him even in the briefest way?

‘I didn't know,' she said. Her voice was faint again.

He glanced at her, frowning. ‘You must have known—I couldn't keep my hands off you. You must have seen that I was…losing control. And that last time—surely that last time you must have seen, known, sensed that I was…?'

Her throat tightened. Pain, remembered pain, pierced her.

‘I did! I thought it meant—meant that you were beginning…that I might mean something to you. But then…' she could hardly speak ‘…then you came back and took me out to dinner, and I was trying to screw up my courage, to pin my hopes on a future with you and tell you…tell you that I was pregnant.' She swallowed. ‘And then you spoke first.'

His hand crushed hers, tightening automatically. He stopped dead.

‘
Theos mou
—that it should have hung in the balance on so fine a thread. How the gods mocked me that night. If I had only—only—'

Anguish silenced him. She lifted his hand with hers, bringing it to her mouth and kissing it as she might Joey's, to comfort him.

‘We can't undo the past, Xander—neither of us can. We can only—' her voice caught ‘—only be grateful—so very, very grateful—that we have been given a second chance.' She took a deep, painful breath. ‘I know I should have come back to tell you about Joey. I know that. I've known it all these years, and fought it. Fought it for my own selfish reasons. Because I was too much a coward to think of anyone but myself. Because I could not face letting you back into my life after you had thrown me out of it. Could not face being what I knew I must be—the unwanted
mother of your son. I told myself I did not need to tell you because you would not want Joey anyway—that you would, out of common decency, pay for him, but you would not want him. And when you found out about him, and you were so angry, I knew—I knew you had a right to be. But I didn't want to admit it—to face up to it!'

She took another unforgiving breath.

‘I've been punished for keeping him from you—not just by your anger, but by my shame at keeping him from you, not giving you the chance to say you wanted him, not giving Joey what I knew he could have had. A father. And by more—by the knowledge that if I'd just gone back to you, if I hadn't in my pride, my own pain and anger, kept away from you…'

‘It would have been a reward I did not deserve,' Xander said heavily, condemningly. ‘Not after my cowardice in not admitting to myself what I had come to feel for you, in denying my own emotions. Not after my cruelty in the way I ended it—so brutally, so unfeelingly. Even if you had not loved me it would still have been brutal. But knowing now what you were feeling as I sat there and said those words to you—' He broke off, pain in his eyes.

Clare's heart filled. ‘It's over, Xander. It's gone. Don't torment yourself. Let's start again—a clean slate, a new beginning.' She paused, her eyes lambent suddenly. ‘Did you mean it—about last night? That you were trying get me pregnant?'

His face shadowed instantly. ‘
Theos mou
, Clare—forgive me for that. I should never have—'

‘But I don't forgive you,' she said. ‘I
thank
you! Oh, Xander, can we have another child? Now?'

Xander caught her and swept her up into his arms. She gave a gasp, and clutched her arms around his neck.

‘Joey can have a dozen brothers and sisters. And I, my most adored one, will take the greatest, most grateful pleasure in fathering each and every one of them.'

His mouth caught hers, warm and soft and so full of love that it was like heaven in her heart. She felt her body quicken, answering with swift eagerness the arousal of his touch as he carried her off, bearing her away, striding swiftly over the grass
to reach the terrace, sliding back the bedroom door with a powerful glide of his arm.

Inside, the instant cool of the room embraced them—but it could not quench the heat rising between them, the heat of passion, of desire, as they came down on the bed in a sweet tangle of limbs.

‘I love you so much,' he said, gazing down into her eyes. ‘I loved you then; I love you now. I will love you for ever. I love everything about you. Everything that is you.
Everything.
Except—' his expression changed suddenly, and there was a disapproving frown on his face ‘—this.'

He lifted the long frayed end of her pigtail and eyed it with critical disdain.

‘This has to go,' he told her. ‘No negotiation.'

‘It's very practical,' said Clare.

‘You don't need practical,' he said. ‘You just need me. And I—' his fingers deftly disposed of the restraining band and then started to unplait the strands, ‘—just need you. And we both—' he flicked free her hair, running his fingers through the pale gold of it ‘—need Joey, and Joey needs us—and a new brother or sister!'

She pulled his head down to her and kissed him. Then she pushed his head back a little, so she could speak.

‘Xander,' she told him, ‘Joey has been with Juliette for a good long time now, and soon he's going to have finished hosing down the cars, and anyone else within range, and realise that he hasn't been swimming yet. And that means he's going to want you to take him. And
that
means—' she pulled him down to kiss him again, then let him go to finish speaking ‘—we had really,
really
better get on with this! Right now.'

‘Oh, Kyria Xander Anaketos-to-be…' Xander's voice husked, his eyes agleam with anticipation. ‘How very,
very
happy I am to oblige.'

His mouth lowered to hers, and softly, sensuously, with tenderness and desire, passion and pleasure, he began to make love to her.

T
HE
sun was setting over the Aegean in a splendour of gold. Enthroned in a huge bath chair on the foredeck, and adorned with a very extravagant hat, Vi surveyed the scene, a satisfied smile on her wrinkled face. But it was not the gold and crimson sky that drew her approbation. It was the sight of Clare and Xander, still in their wedding finery, their arms around each other's waists, gazing out over the sea through which the huge yacht was carving its smooth path.

On her lap sat Joey, resplendent in a tuxedo the miniature version of his father's.

‘Tell me a story, Nan,' said Joey.

Vi settled her shoulders into the cushions and reached for the cup of tea that wasn't quite as good as proper English tea, seeing how it had been made by a Greek chef, but was very welcome for all that. It had been a long day for her, but one that had brought a lift to her heart. Young people really could be so foolish, so blind and so stubborn—it took such a lot to make them see sense.

‘A story?' she said, and took a mouthful of tea before setting down the cup carefully. Her eyes went to the couple by the rail, who had turned to each other. ‘Well, let's see. Once upon a time there was a princess, and a prince fell in love with her, but he was very silly and didn't say so. And the Princess fell in love with him, and
she
was very silly and didn't say so. And so they parted. And the Princess had a baby, but she was even sillier then, and didn't tell the Prince, and so—'

Joey was tugging her sleeve. Vi turned from watching his parents gazing into each other's eyes.

‘What is it, pet?' she asked.

There was a disgusted look on his face. ‘Nan, tell me a
proper
story. With knights in armour. And dragons. And fast cars.'

He snuggled back against her. Vi took another sip of tea. ‘Oh, a
proper
story? Well, let's see…'

She started to weave a story with the elements her charge required.

At the prow of the yacht, Xander was lowering his head to Clare, and she was lifting her face to his. The setting sun turned their kiss to gold, and Vi paused in her tale, wiping a tear from her eye. Yes, the young were foolish, blind, and stubborn—but they got there in the end.

And that was all that mattered.

Carole Mortimer

‘W
HAT
on earth are you doing here?' Casey gasped. She had arrived home exhausted at almost eleven o'clock after working that evening, only to come to a shocked halt in the doorway to her sitting room and stare at the man sitting there so unconcernedly.

The single source of light in the room came from a small table lamp, casting the man's face in shadow as he sat in the armchair across the room. But even though she had only met him twice—briefly—in her life before, it was still possible for Casey to recognise the dark overlong hair, the wide shoulders and the tall, leanly powerful frame as belonging to Xander Fraser—a man whose brooding good-looks often graced the more prestigious gossip magazines as he attended the premieres of the numerous films released by his production company.

A man she hadn't realised even knew where she lived.

Yes, they both lived in Surrey, but at completely different ends of the housing scale. The Fraser mansion was set in several wooded acres of grounds near the river, while her own home was on an estate and much, much smaller.

If she hadn't been so shocked at finding him here, she might even have found a certain pleasure in having this ruggedly handsome man in her home. After all, he was the first eligible, gorgeous man she had been this close to since her marriage had ended a year ago.

Or perhaps not, she acknowledged with an inward grimace; she was hardly looking her best at the moment. Her hair probably
smelt of the food cooked at the restaurant this evening, she was wearing some of her oldest clothes—for the same reason—and wore absolutely no make-up whatsoever to add colour to her naturally pale complexion.

Besides which, it was hardly a good idea for her to be attracted to the ex-husband of the woman who had stolen her own husband!

Xander Fraser shrugged those broad shoulders, shifting slightly so that his face was no longer in shadow, revealing an aquiline nose between high cheekbones, and an arrogant slash of a mouth above a strongly squared chin. He regarded her with hooded blue eyes. ‘I was waiting for you to get home, obviously,' he drawled.

‘Yes, I realise that,' she answered impatiently; it was why he was here that was important! ‘But—where's Hannah?' she asked, her voice sharpening with alarm.

Now that her first shock on seeing Xander was receding, Casey realised the girl she employed to look after her son on the evenings she worked at the restaurant was noticeably absent.

‘Is that the name of the babysitter?' Xander Fraser quirked dark brows. ‘I told her she might as well take advantage of my being here and go home early.'

‘And she just went?' Casey exclaimed. ‘But she doesn't even know you! You could have been anybody!'

‘Such as?' Those dark brows rose a second time. ‘A mass-murderer? Or a kidnapper, perhaps?' He gave a humourless smile.

‘Well…actually, yes,' Casey said with a frown, feeling she had every right to be annoyed with Hannah's irresponsible behaviour.

Although Xander Fraser hardly looked the part of either, she acknowledged privately to herself, dressed in those designer label denims and navy blue silk shirt, and possessed of the kind of confidence that only the very rich or very good-looking seemed to acquire.

Xander Fraser scowled. ‘Believe me, the complications that go along with the one child I have are more than enough for me to cope with right now!'

His daughter Lauren was six years old—the same age as Casey's son Josh. But there the similarities ended. Lauren Fraser
was the daughter of multimillionaire film producer Xander Fraser, whereas Josh was the son of a single mother juggling two jobs to try and keep a roof over their heads.

She sighed as she put her handbag down on the coffee table, too tired to be able to make much sense out of this man's unexpected presence here, let alone his enigmatic conversation.

It had been a long day for her. She'd got up at seven-thirty, to get her young son ready and at school for nine o'clock, then hurried off to the café she worked in until after the lunchtime rush. Once that was over, she'd collected Josh and spent a couple of hours at home with him, before leaving for her evening job at the restaurant of the local hotel.

Yes, it had been a very long and very tiring day, and she was in no mood to play verbal fencing games with Xander Fraser, of all people. Whether he was sinfully handsome or not!

As he was sitting in the only chair in her sparsely furnished sitting room, Casey remained standing, still very unhappy with Hannah—but that, she promised herself, was something she would take up with the girl tomorrow.

‘So, what can I do for you, Mr Fraser?' she challenged tersely.

With her painfully thin frame clothed in a figure-hugging black tee shirt and faded blue denims, and at only a couple of inches over five feet tall, Casey Bridges had all the appearance of a bantam hen aligning itself against a hawk, Xander decided ruefully. Her soft blonde hair was styled wispily about her temples and nape, and her beautiful heart-shaped face was dominated by dark green eyes that did absolutely nothing to dispel that illusion of fragility.

And she looked exhausted… Even as he thought it, she swayed slightly on her feet.

Abruptly, Xander stood up. ‘Sit down,' he commanded, ‘before you collapse.'

She obviously bridled at the order, but then did as he'd said. Perhaps she realised he was fully capable of picking her up and sitting her in the chair himself, if she refused…

The chair, the coffee table and the lamp were the only furniture in the room. He had noted that with a frown when he'd
arrived earlier. There was no television in the room, either, and when he had taken a quick look around the rest of the house he had found that to be no better. Casey Bridges seemed to have taken the ‘minimalist' effect to a barren degree.

Or else—as his daughter Lauren had already hinted—there was another explanation altogether for such austerity…

Xander's eyes narrowed as he registered just how fragilely thin the woman before him was. He noted the shadows beneath those dark green eyes, the hollows beneath her cheekbones, and the skin on her hands and wrists that was almost translucent.

‘Exactly what's been going on here, Casey?' he asked, his blue gaze uncomfortably penetrating now. ‘Where were you this evening?' He had thought she must be out with friends—possibly even a boyfriend, as her husband had left her a year ago—but she hardly had the look of a woman returning from a pleasant evening out.

She gave a firm shake of her head as she seemed to regain some of her composure. ‘That really isn't any of your business, Mr Fraser.' She stood up. ‘I should go up and check on Josh. I still can't believe—Has he woken up? Is he aware that Hannah has left?' she asked anxiously.

‘Josh is fine,' Xander assured her. ‘He did wake up once, but when I told him I was Lauren's daddy he wasn't concerned. He and Lauren have become friends—did you know that?'

Yes, she did know that. Ironically, Josh and Lauren had become friends during the eight months when Sam and Chloe had lived together, their visits to their individual parents often coinciding. Casey also knew that Josh had missed seeing the little girl since Chloe and Sam's deaths four months ago.

‘Yes, I believe they have—did,' she corrected. ‘If you would just like to wait here while I go and check on Josh, we can—continue this conversation when I come back down.' Her gaze didn't quite meet his before she turned and left the room, to run up the stairs to Josh's small bedroom above with a vague feeling of relief.

She had to admit to finding Xander Fraser's powerful presence and fiercely intelligent blue eyes slightly overwhelming in the small confines of the three-bedroomed house that she
had lived in first with her parents, then with Sam and Josh, and now just with Josh. The house she was determined to hold on to if humanly possible.

Quite what sort of conversation she and Xander Fraser were going to have she had no idea, but he obviously considered it important enough for him to have gone to the trouble of finding out where she lived.

She very much doubted Xander's ex-wife would have told him. Casey and Xander's previous two meetings had been when they'd happened to call at the same time to collect Josh and Lauren after one of their weekend visits to the house Sam and Chloe had so briefly shared. The dazzlingly beautiful Chloe had had no choice but to introduce the two of them, but her hypnotic blue eyes had been narrowed on them watchfully as she'd done so.

Casey hadn't liked the sophisticated but brittle Chloe Fraser; she knew she wouldn't have liked her even if she hadn't been ‘the other woman' in Casey's marriage break-up. The two of them had absolutely nothing in common—except Sam, of course.

Only Chloe Fraser's beauty had been such that her more negative traits obviously hadn't repulsed the golden and handsome Sam, or the darkly brooding and immensely rich Xander Fraser.

But the fact that Chloe and Sam were now both dead—killed four months ago when the private jet they'd been travelling in had crashed—meant that Josh and Lauren's visits to them had obviously stopped, too. And it should have meant that Casey would never have reason to see Xander Fraser again, either.

So why on earth was he downstairs in her sitting room, obviously waiting to talk to her?