Secrets and Seductions (22 page)

She loved this man. Loved his smile. Loved the little creases feathering at the corner of his eyes. But Mac had to learn to trust, to believe her and to love her.

Suddenly, she had to get him gone. “Aren’t you going to work?”

“Trying to get rid of me?”

Yes.

Narrowed eyes pierced her soul. This wasn’t what she wanted but how it had to be. She pasted a false smile on her lips. “Since you’re going to play lazybones, I better get going.” She scooted across the bed before he could grab her and gathered the robe she’d dropped to the floor. Beside it lay her underwear. After gathering it all up, she entered the bathroom and closed the door, then took refuge beneath the scalding shower spray. She leaned against the tiled wall, wishing the water would wash away the pain that seared her heart, help harden it so she could do what she had to do, before her it broke any further.

“Want some company?”

Leah jolted back from wishful thinking. Water droplets balanced on the tips of her lashes. She blinked them away. “What are you doing here?”

“Joining you.”

“You can’t.”

“Are you going to tell me to leave?” His brows arched, and he leaned over her and slid his fingers over a wet nipple.

“I could,” she teased, reaching up and nipping his ear lobe.

“Just as I thought, sweetheart, you can’t say no.” And he closed the shower door behind him, shutting them into their own watery paradise. “Now,” he said taking the sponge from her hand, “let me wash you.”

And let me love you
, she thought sadly.

Mac was right. For the love of everything she believed in, Leah couldn’t say no. She had thought she wanted the farm. She loved it. Loved her daughter.

But she loved Mac too, even though right now all he wanted was her body. How could she make him understand that would never be enough for her? How could she make him love her?

An hour later, still smiling, Mac left for work, giving her a chance to get her head straight, to think without the enticement of having him so close. She needed a plan. Mac wouldn’t see her as an equal until she was exactly that, debt-free and not owing him anything.

But thinking didn’t work. It only made things harder. By midmorning, she was about to give up on the promotional materials she’d been designing when the intercom for the apartment buzzed.

“Delivery for Mr. Grainger.”

Surprised the delivery man had come to the apartment and not to Mac’s office, Leah let him into the lobby, and a few moments later there was a sharp tap at the apartment door. The courier driver proffered a large white legal envelope.

“My husband’s at his office. It’s…” She’d been going to suggest he drop the legal-sized envelope at Mackenzie International below and then changed her mind, confused as to why Mac would have business papers sent to the apartment. Taking the delivery, she quickly signed the receipt and scanned the sender’s address.

Connor and Partners. Mac’s lawyer and their best man.

Fingers suddenly icy and trembling, she traced the address, then the gummed seal as fragmented accusations whirred across her brain and a sour taste coated the inside of her mouth.

Legal papers. A divorce? Well, it wasn’t as if she knew that day wouldn’t arrive soon. A temporary marriage. A business deal, he’d said.

But it hadn’t been
all
business. The sour taste thickened, churning in her belly as old insecurities awoke.

Without giving herself a chance to reconsider, Leah ripped at the seal and tore the envelope open, then drew out a sheaf of papers. She scanned them, and her heart stilled.

No, not divorce—but custody papers with Charlee’s name on them…and his. Not hers.

Mac had taken out an application for legal custody of Charlee.

Her hands shook, and in her head, swarms of bees seemed to be buzzing incessantly. He’d said he only wanted to get to
know
Charlee, satisfy himself regarding her care, yet all along he’d watched, waited, tested her, while he’d already made up his mind.

Dear God, it was real. He wanted to take her daughter. He’d planned it.

The fingers of her right hand found her left and massaged her wedding band.

She stared down at the glistening gold ring. It was a lie. A cold, heartless lie. Blinking back tears, Leah wrenched the ring from her hand and tossed it across the room.

Sixty seconds was all it took to reach his office. The longest sixty seconds of her life. She stormed past his startled receptionist and into his office, the papers clutched in her shaking hand. Then he was right in front of her. Mac Grainger. Beautiful. Sexy. Her husband. A traitor.

“You bastard. You lying…”

“Whoa!” Mac replaced his phone in its cradle and stood. There was not even an ounce of surprise on his face, his expression as ruthless as ever.

He knew.

“I wondered how long it would take for you to get here.”

Leah tossed the papers toward him, and they hit him above the eye before they fell to the floor. “Do you deny you asked Connor Jackson to draw up an application for custody for Charlee?”

“No. But there is an explanation.”

“Really? Do you deny your suggestion of marriage for Charlee’s sake was a decoy while you instigated your custody application? You wanted to destroy me, Mac Grainger.”

“Connor’s secretary made a mistake. I just got off the phone with her. You were never meant to see those papers. Besides, you shouldn’t have opened the envelope anyhow. It wasn’t addressed to you, Leah. What does that say about you trusting me?”

“Rubbish. You deceived me.” She stabbed a finger toward the papers now at his feet. “You accuse me of dishonesty, but buster, have you taken a look in the mirror lately? You stormed into my home making demands, blackmailing me. I knew this would never work.”

His mouth thinned, and stared down his haughty nose at her. “It wasn’t meant to,” he finally said. “We never planned long-term.”

“Planned!” Her voice reached fever pitch. “
We
didn’t plan anything. I didn’t plan anything. But you, Mac, you planned it right down to how you were going to steal my child.” Leah sobbed, furious with herself for being sucked in, for letting her defenses down. For trusting a Grainger again.

As if he ignored what she said, he bent down and picked up the papers, then drew himself upright, all six-foot-plus of powerful testosterone. He gave the legal document a scant glance. Not once did he look guilty, or offer an apology. Then, leaning forward slightly, he rested the tips of his fingers on his desk and fixed an unflinching and resolute gaze on her. “I had to find out the truth. I considered it a precaution.”

“You didn’t even try to believe me, Mac. You just assumed, and because Curtis was your brother, you believed him.”

“I requested Connor to put the papers on hold.”

“When?”

“The day we were married.”

“I don’t believe you. You thought you were onto a good thing, so you stopped anything that would come between me coming to your bed…or not.” Leah shook her head. “It’s too late. How can I ever trust you? You didn’t tell me.”

His expression hardened at her accusation. “I never heard you say no.”

“Oh, but I did. We had rules.”

“One rule, sweetheart, which you broke the first night.”

Oh dear God, what a mess. She’d come in wanting answers about his deceit, and now they talked about what neither could refuse the other every night. A heaviness tightened across her chest at the realization. Mac’s deceit had killed of any hope for love or for a future. Stemming the now familiar ache, she took a step back. She only wished she could shut off her heart as easily. “That’s right,” she finally managed to say. “It was just
sex. Not love.”

Mac stilled for a fraction, as if he were about to say something, then changed his mind. “Love has nothing to do with it?”

She wanted to shout no, he was wrong. It
was
all about love. Foolishly, she had begun to hope it was, wanted it to, desperately so. “You’re right, of course,” she said, reining in every ounce of hurt. She pasted a bland expression on her face that an Oscar winner would be proud of. She wouldn’t let him in again. “Our marriage is pure fantasy, and the bubble has certainly burst. You’ll get your money.”

Just not me
.

Chapter Thirteen

Leah dressed with care, no jeans and check shirts or mud-covered boots. Instead, she chose a smart pair of black trousers and matching fitted jacket. Because she didn’t have money to waste and hadn’t bought many clothes to replace the ones lost in the fire, she didn’t have a shirt to wear with it, so she chose a chiffon scarf she hadn’t been able to resist and tied it at her neck in a floppy bow.

For several minutes, she studied herself critically in the mirror. Today she intended to present a professional image and announce to the world, or at least the bank manager, that she was a good investment.

Checking her watch, she realized she had to go. It wouldn’t do to be late when she was about to ask for money.

Thankful the traffic was steady with no holdups, she arrived with a few minutes to spare. Parked across from the bank, she used the time to gather her thoughts, mentally analyzing every scenario the bank might come up with. Unfortunately, every one was unpleasant and ended with a resounding no. Still, the Growers’ Association confirmed all her supporting documents regarding the grove’s yield. Aroha Farm would fulfill its true potential, and she could pay a mortgage and survive—just.

But most importantly, by refinancing she could pay Mac back, get out of his life and get him out of hers.

You’ll be alone. Lonely
.

Leah refused to consider that silent prediction.

Twenty minutes later, it was all over and the dapperly dressed bank manager was finishing up the paper work.

“Everything is in order, Mrs. Grainger, but I must say, I am surprised. I mean, your ah…husband,” the bank manager said, his already ruddy complexion turning to the color of beets, “has accumulated rather considerable assets, businesses worldwide, and so forth, so why do you feel the need to come to me?”

Leah kept her emotions in check and her smile tight. “I pay my own debts, Mr. Tanner.” She pocketed the signed mortgage document and confirmation slip that the funds were already in her bank account. “I do not need my husband to support me.”

“But he already does, since he purchased the debt,” the man offered feebly.

“Which I intend to pay back in full, now you’ve agreed to refinance me. Then, Mr. Tanner, you will only have to deal with me, the owner of Aroha Olive Farm.”

A few minutes later, with a bank check secure in her hand, Leah walked out. She lifted her head to the sun, wishing its warmth would seep into her bones. The blood in her veins had chilled to ice.

She should have felt happy. She’d achieved what she’d set out to do. Instead, there was a heartbreaking finality to it all. Temporary would now be over.

She hesitated to start the engine. It meant taking the next step. She stared down at the check in her lap. It was a lot of money.

She stuffed it into her bag when her mobile rang, the tune, an electronic squeal of “Love Me Tender” picked by Charlee, tugging at her heart.

Charlee. Always Charlee. She and Charlee were forever, never temporary, and the irony of the song title and what she was about to do didn’t escape her.

She flicked open her phone, spying the identity panel before she spoke, a sad sigh constricted her chest as she answered. “Hello, Mac.”

“Just thought I’d let you know not to worry about picking up Charlee. I’ve already done it.”

“You what?”

“I was ah…passing and thought why not?”

“Because you can’t, that’s why.”

“Well, Molly didn’t mind. She agreed, and since she met me with you, it was okay, seeing Charlee already calls me Daddy.”

In the background, Leah could hear Charlee’s melodic rendition of “Old MacDonald”, and the age-old mother’s guilt squeezed at her heart. There’d been a farm visit from the kindergarten today, and at the last minute Leah had to pull out of being mother’s help.

“Leah?”

The voice at her ear drew her back from her misery. “I’ll meet you at home.”

“Done. Don’t cook dinner, it’s my turn.”

Leah ended the call and stashed her phone back in her bag. To her dismay, her mouth watered as she thought about Mac’s excellent culinary skills. It was one of several skills he possessed that Curtis had sorely lacked. Damn it, she couldn’t help but dwell on the difference between Mac and Curtis. Brothers, but so very different, and yet Mac wanted to control her too.

Remember the custody papers.

Leah squeezed her eyes shut as the tears began. She cried for Charlee, for her loss of a father, and now of Mac, who Charlee already called Daddy. She cried for family and for love. But mostly she cried for Mac and herself, for what couldn’t be, because he didn’t love her back.

This was it. Temporary was over and out. She pressed the back of her hands into her eye sockets, pushing hard, rubbing away the tears.

No more. They weren’t allowed. She had to be strong, make a stand for her future.

Ignition on, Leah drove across town, little speeches running through her head. None sounded right, but then there wasn’t an easy way to tell someone you wanted a divorce.

The thing was, if she didn’t do this now, she’d chicken out and take second best. She deserved better. She deserved to be loved. Mac had to learn that, just like she had.

Back at the Mackenzie International building and in the elevator, she felt a sense of déjà vu wash over her. Their first meeting had been in the elevator, although she hadn’t known who he was, and then they met again here on their way to be married.

Unbidden, images of Mac crossed her mind’s eye—the way his dark eyes flashed whenever he saw her, the way his dimples creased his cheeks, and how she hadn’t been able to stop thinking of him, despite her inner turmoil.

She loved him. Now it was time for a divorce.

Leah punched the button for the penthouse. No business-deal marriage would ever be good enough, nor would a one-sided love affair.

The moment she stepped into the apartment, the rich aroma of tomatoes and olives with the tang of garlic wafted in her direction.