Propositioned by the Billionaire (14 page)

P
HOEBE WATCHED
J
IM’S
boat as it grew smaller and smaller and felt sicker now than at any point in her journey to Alex’s island. And that was despite the turbulent flight and the even choppier boat ride.

Her stomach was churning and adrenalin pounded through her veins. With her nerves rocketing, Phoebe turned and stared up at the house. Her heart thumped. Alex was in there. Her future happiness was in there. Hopefully.

But what sort of mood would she find him in? Would he be pleased to see her? Or horrified? Would he even be prepared to listen to her when she’d so recklessly pushed him away?

Doubts began to assail her from all sides. Maybe she should have called Maggie and established that Alex was in fact on the island. Maybe she should have waited until he got back to London, as he surely would have had to have done at some point.

Oh God. She hadn’t weighed up the pros and cons of this course of action at all. She’d never acted so rashly. But then she’d never needed to.

Phoebe swallowed back the nerves and told herself that a faint heart had never achieved anything.

The spatter of great fat raindrops galvanised her into action. She hauled her bag onto her shoulder and raced up the steps to the house. She reached the front door just as the heavens opened.

Her heart thundered with anticipation and exertion. She was so close. Just a few more minutes and she’d know her fate one way or another.

She turned the handle and pulled, but nothing happened. She tried again, rattling it back and forth, but it was locked. Panic swept through her. She bashed on the door with her fist and shouted Alex’s name. But there was no answer and no sound of footsteps striding towards the door.

Alex wasn’t there. So where was he?
Where was he?
Could she have got it wrong? Was he in fact back in London? In the arms of another woman, one who wouldn’t blow hot and cold and push him away. Her heart clenched. No, she wouldn’t believe that. Alex wouldn’t do that. Not if he loved her.

But supposing she’d read too much into that photo? Fancied she’d seen something that didn’t exist simply because that was what she wanted to see? Or what if he
had
felt something for her but as she’d rejected him had decided that that was that and had moved on?

Wind lashed at the palm trees. The rain turned torrential and plastered her clothes to her body. Phoebe shivered and rubbed her arms. Her knees shook. Her heart twisted. No. She wouldn’t let that happen. If that was the case, she’d just have to do everything in her power to get him to love her again. She was
not
going to fail.

She cupped her hands to the glass to see if there were any signs he’d been there. But she could see nothing
except the blurred outline of the Jeep on the other side of the house.

Phoebe’s heart leapt with encouragement. Alex
was
here. Somewhere. And it was up to her to find him.

Thunder crackled above her and lightning sliced through the sky. She dropped her bag and raced across the terrace. She tore along the paths, searching desperately, hoping wildly, not caring that rain sluiced over her, drenching her clothes, her skin, her hair. She stumbled to the top of the steps that led down to the sea and frantically scoured the beach. She looked for him until her body ached inside and out. But with every passing minute, hope faded.

Because there was no sign of him.

Wherever he was, Alex didn’t want to be found.

As the realisation dawned Phoebe’s energy drained and her heart broke. Utterly defeated and exhausted, she felt a flood of emotion crash over her. Despair, misery, hopelessness all piled in on top of each other and she knew she’d never felt pain like it. Tears mingled with the rain and she dashed them away with the backs of her hands.

She’d been so sure she’d find him. So sure she’d be able to fix the mess she’d made of things. And the knowledge that she’d failed was agonising.

The dark stormy grey of the huge waves rolling towards the shore reminded her of Alex’s eyes the last time she’d seen him, and as memories cascaded into her head she felt yet more misery well up inside her.

Oh, God, would it ever end?

She felt as weak and vulnerable as a little boat being battered by the waves, completely at the mercy of something far too powerful to comprehend.

And then her heart skipped a beat.

Hang on.

She snapped her gaze to the jetty.

Alex’s yacht was gone.

She’d been in such a state when she’d got off Jim’s boat that she hadn’t noticed, but it wasn’t there.

Hope flared in her chest. And then her heart began to pound. He must be out there. Somewhere in the vastness of the ocean. In the middle of this raging storm.

Fear clutched at her breast and obliterated the relief. What if something happened to him? He was out there because of her. She started to shake as pure terror began to flood through her. She hadn’t even told him she loved him.

Phoebe tore down the steps and charged onto the jetty. She scanned the sea, but the visibility was getting worse and she could see nothing but great mountains of water.

Her mind began to race. Her imagination went into overdrive. Scenario after scenario ripped through her head and she filled with the agonising awareness that she could well have lost him.

As wretchedness scythed through her and a wave washed over her Phoebe’s legs gave way and she crumpled into a heap.

Even the weather had turned against him, thought Alex grimly, dredging up every ounce of strength he possessed to keep the yacht upright.

He’d been out in worse, but not much. He braced himself for yet another wave that bore down on him. A whoosh of water crashed over the stern and as the boat groaned and creaked Alex staggered beneath the force
of it. His muscles stung with the effort of holding the tiller steady. Every bone in his body was battered and bruised and he could feel a cut on his cheek.

He should have checked the forecast. He should have turned back at the first hint of rain. He should have been watching the wave patterns and paying attention to the darkening of the skies. He should have remembered that storms in this part of the world tended to set in in a matter of minutes.

But then there were lots of things he should have done over the past week.

He should have realised the depths of his feelings for Phoebe sooner, and he should have stayed in London and insisted on hammering things out with her instead of running off to lick his wounds here.

Because what good had that done him? None at all. All he’d done here was sit and brood and ache for her. At least, he thought as adrenalin coursed through his veins, it proved he could still feel something.

If he ever got back to the island alive, and right now the chances of that happening were looking pretty slim, he’d head straight back to London. He’d wine and dine Phoebe and woo her properly until her resistance buckled under the relentless pressure. Once he’d got her back into his bed and rendered her all soft and warm and amenable, he’d set about making her love him as much as he’d realised he loved her. However long it took. He didn’t care. He was fully prepared to devote the rest of his life to the endeavour.

And as that was the case, he thought determinedly, he would not be consigning himself to a watery grave any time soon. His heart pumping wildly with renewed energy, Alex hoisted the storm sail, set the stern to the
waves and concentrated on steering the yacht to safety before the storm bashed them both to bits.

How long she’d been sitting there when something slammed into the side of the jetty, Phoebe had no idea. She was numb with cold and despair. The thought that she might never see Alex, might never hold him again, had been tearing away at her and her whole body ached unbearably with grief. She trembled and wrapped her arms around herself and waited for the icy wave to wash over her. For all she cared, it could knock her into the sea, drag her under and carry her away.

When it didn’t, and she heard the slap of wet ropes landing on wood inches from her knees, her heart began to hammer and her eyes flew open.

For a moment Phoebe just stared. Then she rubbed her eyes and blinked and felt everything inside her spring to life. Because there, right in front of her, was the
Phoenix Three.
A bit battered but in one piece and she didn’t think she’d ever been so happy to see forty feet of gleaming white fibreglass.

Relief thundered through her. She hadn’t lost him. At least not to the storm. He was there. Alive. Unclipping himself from the guardrail and stepping off the boat.

‘Alex,’ she croaked, lurching to her feet and beginning to shiver uncontrollably.

But he was throwing loops of rope over the bollards and clearly hadn’t heard her so she swallowed and tried again. ‘Alex!’

Alex froze and spun round. ‘Phoebe?’ For a moment he just stood there and stared at her. Then she caught a flash of raw unguarded emotion on his face and her legs automatically propelled her towards him.

She stopped a foot away, suddenly completely at a loss as to what to say. The speech she’d spent the entire flight over carefully practising flew out of her head. Because, the way he was glowering at her, he didn’t look as if he was pleased to see her at all.

‘What the hell are you doing here?’ he said roughly, wiping the water from his eyes and looking her up and down as if he couldn’t quite believe she was there. ‘How long have you been out here?’

‘I don’t know,’ she croaked and wrapped her arms around herself.

Alex frowned, then shrugged off his oilskin and helped her into it. And then as the warmth from his body enveloped her Phoebe couldn’t hold back. She launched herself at him, flinging her arms around his neck, pulling his head down and pressing her mouth to his, pouring everything she’d gone through into a kiss that shook her to the soles of her feet.

‘I’m sorry,’ she mumbled over and over again against his lips, wanting to never let him go.

Alex’s arms whipped around her waist and crushed her tighter against him. He kissed her back as if his life depended on it. She moaned and sank into him and his hands came up to cup her face. He cradled her as if she was the most precious thing he’d ever held and Phoebe nearly collapsed with relief. He
was
pleased to see her.

But as heat spread through her all the feelings she’d been protected from by the numbness came crashing down on her and she suddenly found she was shaking. Sobs began to rack her body.

‘Phoebe?’ Alex lifted his head and gazed down at her, his eyes blazing with heat and desire and concern.

‘I thought you were dead!’ she yelled, pulling back and thumping him in the chest.

He caught her shoulders and pulled her closer to stop her thumps and her shivering. ‘Why would I be dead?’ he said soothingly.

‘I thought you’d capsized and drowned and been eaten by sharks.’

Alex held her tighter. ‘There aren’t any sharks round here.’

‘Or kidnapped by pirates.’

‘Not many pirates either.’

She could feel him smile against her hair, and she jerked back and glared up at him, her eyes swimming with tears. ‘Don’t joke. What did you think you were doing going out in a flimsy boat like that in weather like this?’

‘I’ve been through worse.’

‘But I haven’t,’ she cried, beginning to pummel him again. ‘I thought I’d lost you. I thought I’d lost you and I’d never be able to tell you how sorry I am. And I am sorry, really sorry.’

Alex caught her wrists. ‘So am I.’

‘You don’t need to be,’ she said wretchedly. ‘I’m the one who told you to go away.’

‘Phoebe, I—’ he broke off suddenly and her heart lurched crazily at the look in his eye ‘—am not having this conversation in the pouring rain,’ he muttered, sweeping her into his arms, oilskin and all, and carrying her down the jetty and along the beach.

‘Where are we going?’ she said, not really caring as long as she could stay in his arms for ever. She wanted to burrow beneath his soaking clothes and warm herself against his skin.

‘The beach hut.’

‘I didn’t know there was one,’ she mumbled against his chest.

‘It’s very basic.’

He backed into the wooden hut nestling among the trees at the edge of the beach and then set her on her feet. He was right, she thought, glancing around. It was very basic. Just one room. With a bed. Unmade and clearly slept in. But as long as it contained Alex, it felt like home to her.

In the blissful warmth of the hut, she felt the terror and anguish melt away. Then she caught the look in his eyes and nerves swooped in to take over. ‘Have you been staying here?’ she said, keeping her eyes fixed to the floor.

‘Yes.’

‘Why?’

‘Too many memories everywhere else.’

‘Of what?’

‘Of you.’

Her head shot up. Alex was leaning against the wall of the hut, his arms folded over his chest, and watching her.

‘Good memories?’ she asked nervously.

‘Disturbing memories.’

‘Me too,’ she said, her heart thundering. She’d come this far. She had to see it through to the end. Whatever the outcome. ‘I’ve missed you,’ she said, her voice cracking. ‘I know I drove you away, but, I swear, give me another chance and—’ she scoured his face for the tiniest flicker of encouragement but his expression was inscrutable and her courage suddenly deserted her ‘—perhaps we could resume our affair.’

Alex tilted his head and stared at her for what seemed like hours. ‘No,’ he said eventually.

‘No?’ Phoebe suddenly felt very cold. Oh, God. Maybe she
had
got it all wrong. Maybe it was way too late.

‘I don’t want an affair.’

Phoebe thought she might break apart. ‘Alex, please—’ She didn’t care that she was begging.

He pushed himself off the wall and walked slowly towards her. ‘It’s a good thing you’re here.’

No, it wasn’t. It was heartbreaking. She should never have come. She took a step back and swallowed down the aching lump in her throat. ‘Is it?’

Alex nodded. ‘Saves me a bumpy ride back to London,’ he said, a faint smile appearing on his lips.