Riley’s Billionaire (7 page)

She needed to wipe away everything that wasn’t familiar and concentrate on what she’d set out to do — own her own vineyard. She might not recognise the world into which she’d thrust herself, but she did know elemental things. She understood soil, water, living things from plants to mould. Yes, what she needed was to work so that she would no longer feel undeserving.

She needed to ditch the pity party before she became one of the victims she disliked. Riley Grace...Riley Beauchamp... She shook herself mentally. No matter her name, she was still the same woman she’d been prior to meeting Jack Beauchamp, and she wouldn’t allow him, circumstance, or anything else to alter that fact.

Riley hadn’t risen from the bed and had no intention of going with him, or letting him wake Amelia, who was probably asleep. ‘No. It’s late, and we shouldn’t disturb her.’

She could tell Jack was frustrated, possibly even angry, because he did something she’d not seen him do. He paced; from bed to bureau and there to French doors leading to the patio before coming back.

He towered over her. ‘Help me then. It’s our wedding night, and my wife just said she felt more alone than she’d ever felt in her life. What am I to do with that?’

‘Ignore it. Call it wedding night jitters or whatever you want. I’m out of my comfort zone, but I should never have thrust my insecurities upon you, and I’m certainly not going to start this arrangement by being a wimp. You deserve better.’

He groaned and resumed pacing, just like the panther she’d likened him to when they first met, and with every step Riley felt guiltier.

‘I’m trying to fix this,’ she said, ‘but you aren’t helping by acting like a caged animal.’ She rose and went to him, placing a hand on one of his biceps. ‘Jack?’

He turned to face her, and the muscles beneath her fingers tensed. ‘If I touch you, Riley, this wedding night will be less to your liking and more to mine.’ His nostrils flared slightly and the planes of his face became as chiselled as granite.

Riley longed to smooth the furrow in his brow that had appeared while he spoke. She knew she’d be tempting fate — he’d already warned her — but the impulse to make contact was unbearable. Irresistible.

At first, Jack shrank from her, the glint in his eyes telling her he meant what he’d said. Riley didn’t care. Recklessly, she ventured forth, but instead of stroking his forehead as she’d intended, she found herself touching the back of his neck where his dark hair curled close to his shirt collar.

He bent his head, and her fingers climbed higher until she had a fistful of hair. She tugged and with a groan he scooped her into his arms and kissed her more soundly than she’d ever been kissed.

Like a hungry man, he devoured her lips, drank in what she offered and more.

Riley felt like she was floating then vaguely realised she wasn’t touching the floor. He’d lifted her and walked the few steps it took to the bed. Soon she lay in the circle of his arms, her head barely grazing the pillows. One of his hands cradled her spine while the other lifted her hips. Then he stopped kissing her.

She writhed, abandoned for a moment, then sucked into a vortex of need as Jack’s hands slipped to her ankles and lifted her gown. The softness of the material combined with the warmth of his hands, followed by his lips touching her inner calves then thighs made her moan with desire. He was relentless in pursuit, licking, lapping and eventually nudging aside the sheer fabric that separated her skin from his tongue.

With a fluid lift of her butt and one solid yank, he completely removed the last vestige of material from her lower body, leaving her gasping for air and the knowledge of what came next.

She expected him to remove her gown, but no...he left her half-clothed and kept his attention on his first mission, that of separating the delicate folds of skin in order to spear her with his hot tongue.

Riley cried out, unable and unwilling to so much as flex, much less move. Paralysed with need, she clung to his head with both hands, fearful he might stop, terrified of her response if he didn’t. She’d gone from guileless to gullible within seconds and didn’t care where Jack led. She’d never felt so complete. Surely, nothing that felt this good could be bad.

But once it was over and every tightly wound emotion she contained exploded into infinite fire then bliss, Jack was gone. Standing at the foot of the bed, straightening his clothing, following up by tossing a blanket at her.

‘Where are you going?’ Riley attempted to focus, but she was whiplashed from Jack making love to her then completely removing himself from her reach. She’d needed his presence, to feel his body next to hers. Her first inclination after the shattering climax was to reciprocate as best she could. Limited knowledge but unfathomable desire. The latter had to count for something.

‘I’m taking a walk. Alone.’

She was confused. ‘Jack, come back to bed.’

‘I told you earlier not to tempt me, Riley. But what’s done is done. At least you can’t say you were alone on your wedding night.’ His voice was flat, void of emotion. ‘And there’s no way I could have impregnated you.’

Riley flinched from the verbal slap. She knew he was right. She’d flatly told him she wouldn’t have children with someone who bartered flesh. Now her words came back to haunt her, and she didn’t like the portrait it painted. It probably appeared to her husband that she wasn’t above using a man to satisfy her own longings then not reciprocating. But dammit, he’d left the bed. How was she to do anything with him standing fully clothed, upright, and six feet from her?

He didn’t give her the chance to explain how she felt. He turned and walked out of their bedroom, without looking back, leaving her feeling bereft and incompetent.

Riley slammed back against the pillows and wept.

Jack was furious with himself for not being able to stay. How could he, who had never become seriously involved with any woman, have allowed himself to be led by the nose by a slip of a girl like Riley? She was inexperienced, which should have deterred him from the beginning but only served to fuel his desire for her. She was a firecracker when talking yet a gentle soul when in his arms. A complete contradiction of everything he’d supposed she’d be when he proposed marriage.

What
did
you expect?

He answered his latent conscience immediately. He’d expected Riley to be young enough that he could get her to do his bidding, be his pawn in a chess game with Patrick Fitzgerald. He hadn’t expected her to like the infernal man, and Jack hadn’t expected himself to be as attracted to Riley as he was. How could he possibly have thought of using her like that in the first place?

And now? After he’d come to know her better, admire her feistiness and intelligence, after she’d managed to get under his skin and drag him from ruthless to romantic?

Jack hardly recognised himself. He’d never be able to outwit Patrick if his mind was constantly concerned with Riley. Sure, he’d wanted her to be a Fitzgerald, but now...all he wanted was for her to be safe. Once everyone knew her DNA was being tested and that she was potentially Amelia’s granddaughter, she’d never be truly safe as long as whoever wanted her dead hadn’t changed their mind.

And Jack would never be the same after making love to her. If she was as pliable and eager to please him when all the attention was focused on her, how much greater would his pleasure be if he allowed Riley to make love to him? He’d be unable to maintain any semblance of a marriage of convenience. He’d want her for keeps, children or no children, and he was dangerously close to the edge already.

He walked downstairs and onto the front terrace, pulled out his cigarettes and thought
the hell with it
when lighting his third for the day. He drew his cell phone from his pants pocket and glanced at the time. Technically, this was his first cigarette of a new day.

A waning moon, falling on the hillside to his left, cast shadows of the odd eucalyptus tree or flowering bush. Bare vines that would bear fruit in a few months, dotted the landscape. Cadigal Valley had been his home for several years, yet he’d never truly felt he belonged until Riley entered the picture. With her, even though they were just getting to know one another, Jack felt the pieces of his life fitting more securely together.

Ridiculous notion,
he told himself. Amelia had welcomed him when he’d arrived, and she’d insisted that he become part of her family and stay in the main house rather than commute from Sydney or live in the cabin on the hill he and Riley had passed on their way. Nothing had changed with Riley’s arrival, so why did it seem as if it had?

Jack walked while smoking, from one end of the terrace to the other. He was about to sit at one of the tables when a slight motion a few metres away captured his attention. He wasn’t alone.

Patrick stepped into view, and it was all Jack could do to repress a groan in protest. He needed solace, not Patrick’s company. But it was either stay to finish his cigarette or escape, which wasn’t Jack’s style.

Amelia’s nephew spoke first. ‘You have a lovely wife, Jack. My compliments.’

Jack nodded, wondering where this was going.

Patrick, too, it seemed, was unable to sleep and was having a late night cocktail with his cigarette. Gin and tonic, most likely, his drink of choice.

At first determined not to break the silence and place the proverbial ball into Patrick’s court, Jack relented and asked what had bugged the hell out of him since dinner.

‘How did you know about my wife’s scar on her abdomen?’ He pulled out a chair and sat, his gaze studying the other man’s every move.

Patrick frowned then smiled slowly. ‘So it’s true?’ He shook his head. ‘I was only voicing what had been a thought since I first saw her. She reminded me of a cousin, but I haven’t seen her since we were small. Think she was about three, and I was seven or eight at the time.’

Jack swallowed the bile that rose. Had Patrick hurt Riley in the past? How else would he have known?

Patrick sat across from him. ‘I can’t believe it’s really her. I mean — did you know? Does she? For that matter, what of Amelia?’ Then Patrick sighed. ‘No wonder the poor dear passed out at the sight of Riley. Appears I wasn’t the only one who felt
deja vu.
It was a bit creepy — I mean, we all assumed the kids were dead.’

‘We haven’t discussed the matter.’ Jack felt foolish with the admission.

Patrick eyed him suspiciously. ‘Where did you meet her?’

‘Sydney.’ That’s all Jack offered.
Let the bastard think what he wants.

‘And you had no idea she resembled Amelia’s daughter-in-law?’

‘Of course not.’

Patrick nodded. ‘Your wife’s name is Riley, not Marianne, so it’s doubtful she’s my cousin. You know, this could all be coincidence. And very convenient for you.’

Jack stood, defensive, ready to beat the crap out of him.

Patrick seemed nonplussed, even joked. ‘Sit down, mate. I’m teasing. It would be diabolical if you were to play on Amelia’s softness for her grandchildren like that — nobody would accuse you of anything so ruthless. It’s just...as I said...coincidence.’

No one has ever used that term to describe me.
His sarcastic thoughts drifted back to Sydney and his conversation with Riley when she accused him of being ruthless. ‘Could be.’ Jack took a couple of deep breaths, decided to choose his battles wisely, sat, and asked what had happened to the little girl.

‘We were climbing trees, and I tried to dissuade her, but she was such a determined little thing. She went too far, lost her footing, and fell to the ground on her stomach. One of the harvesters had left a pair of pruning shears behind, and when she fell, the serrated edge stuck into her stomach.’ Patrick winced. ‘Nasty cut. She had to be rushed to the local hospital.’

His face darkened. ‘When Kevin’s children went missing, I thought Uncle Joe would lose his mind. He was especially fond of Marianne — we used to call her Mimi. I used to spend summers with them here, and when Kevin and his wife died, then Joe, I moved in to help take care of Aunt Amelia.’

Grudgingly, Jack had to admit it didn’t sound as if Patrick could have had anything to do with hurting his younger cousin. And if he was only seven or eight, it was doubtful he was involved with the children’s disappearance.

Guilt flooded Jack.. Patrick had described him perfectly, whether intent was behind it or not. He was ruthless. Demented as well if he considered manipulating people like that. He’d have to make amends. Quickly.

First, he had to return to his bed and pray Riley was asleep, because if she wasn’t, he would have an extremely long, painful night keeping his hands off of her.

When he got back to the room, however, Riley was sound asleep, curled facing his side of the bed. She had the face of an angel, not some demon sent to torment him.

You pathetic sod.
He sat with his back to her.
You still want her, and she’s sleeping.

Well, he wouldn’t wake her. He’d force himself to get undressed without looking at her and to sleep on his side so he couldn’t see her.

It took hours for him to fall asleep, and Jack figured he’d have a restless night, but the day’s events took their toll. He drifted into unconsciousness with one thought on his mind. He’d set his alarm to wake up early and find Amelia to tell her he’d changed his mind. It was time to tell Riley she might be an heiress. He’d have to accept her rage once she figured out why he really approached her for marriage. If he was right, at least Amelia would have one of her grandchildren returned to her.

Images of his wife raced across his mind, chasing one another. Riley at The Baker’s Oven in Sydney, sipping coffee with him. Scenes of her shopping, especially when she tried on the cocktail dress she wore to their wedding ceremony. Their first kiss and the intoxicating scent of her body; he was sure what he had smelled wasn’t perfume. It was pure, unadulterated Riley.

Undressing her — kissing her, tasting her sweet, delicate skin, feeling her writhing beneath his touch. Would he ever get her out of his mind?

Seconds ticked into minutes, then into hours. The last thing he remembered was the soft sound of her breathing behind him.