The Billionaire Baby Bombshell (6 page)

T
he firm knock on the door made them both jump. For a second they both sat there, staring at each other, until Yelena finally found her voice.

“Who is it?”

“Alex.”

Chelsea leapt to her feet, shaking her head.

“Just a minute,” Yelena called then turned to the panicky girl.

“We had a row… I’m supposed to be in my room… I have to go!”

“Chelsea—”

“Shh!” Chelsea hurried over to the patio doors and swept them open. Cold night air swirled in. “I can get back through the lagoon walk. I’ll talk to you later.”

And then she was gone.

Mind racing, Yelena slowly closed the glass doors, crossed the living room and opened the door.

Alex stood there in his shirt-sleeves, tie and top buttons askew.

She pulled the robe tight around her waist as her stomach gave a weird little flip. “I was just about to have a shower.”

“Okay.”

He remained there, silent, until she said slowly, “Did you need me for something?”

A minuscule smile pulled the corner of his mouth for a second before it disappeared. “We need to talk about a few things.”

Could she handle any more today? With an inward sigh, Yelena pulled the door wider. “If you want to wait, you can come in.”

“Sure.”

Alex was not a patient man. While she was in the shower he sat on the couch for all of twenty seconds. He knew because he counted every single one. When he realized what he was doing, he shot to his feet and grabbed the remote, flicking on the huge plasma television. Pretty soon he clicked that off and started to pace but eventually ended up staring out at the night lights through the window. Another five minutes and his patience felt as if it had been put through a shredder. Twice.

Normally, once he’d dismissed something from his mind, it stayed gone. Yet his second thoughts about Yelena’s involvement in Carlos’s scheme had bizarrely festered, chewing away at his thoughts until he realized he had to take action. It had only increased in urgency after his one-sided conversation with Chelsea thirty minutes before.

Yet as the minutes ticked by his thoughts were not on his sister’s sullen countenance but on Yelena. Yelena in the shower. Naked. Hot water running over her silky skin, making it slick and slippery—

“What did you want to talk about?”

He whirled, swallowing a groan. She stood in the entry
wrapped in a Diamond Bay robe, her long hair tousled and damp, curling down her back.

The urgent craving to kiss her—hard—engulfed him.

Almost as if he’d voiced the desire, she rocked onto her back foot. “Alex? Has something happened?”

His groin tightened as he bit off a bitter laugh.
Yeah, something’s happened.
With a deep breath, he forced his mouth into a smile.

“I ordered room service.”

She blinked then grabbed her clothes where she’d tossed them on the floor. “Thank you. But that wasn’t necessary.”

“I thought we could discuss this campaign over dinner.” When she paused in her folding he smiled again, this time a sincere one. “You have to eat.”

The silence stood for a few seconds until she nodded. “I’ll get dressed.”

Yelena whirled on her heel, forcing herself not to run into the bedroom and slam the door.
It’s business. Remember that.
Yet everything she remembered of Alex contradicted that hollow statement.

After vigorously rubbing her still-damp hair, she quickly stepped into underwear then shoved on a pair of soft pink cashmere track pants and a plain black T-shirt, securing her hair into a high ponytail. A quick check of Bella deep in sleep and she was ready to face Alex. One deep, fortifying breath—okay, two—and she finally walked out into the lounge room.

The sight of him made that last breath shudder in her chest. Even with his back to her, he still commanded her focus. Tall and muscular, that was Alex. He always made her feel feminine, even delicate, which was no mean feat given her height. His wide shoulders were capable of taking on a hundred worries, weathering any crisis. He was like a house built on iron-clad foundations.

She’d once overheard Carlos describe him as “entitled and
arrogant” but she knew all too well strength and conviction could be misinterpreted as arrogance by some.

As he shifted, her eyes went to the curve of his neck, to the tanned exposed skin just above his collar.

Her body tightened as a bolt of desire shot through every womanly part. She knew how he felt beneath those clothes, that solid chest, those sweetly curved biceps, the delicious way his muscles bunched and rippled beneath hot, touchable skin.

As her senses prickled with remembrance, she watched Alex shuffle through the press clippings she’d left open on the table. It took a few moments to recognize his expression but when she did it sent her back a step.

Every muscle in his face, every line had contracted into something so blatantly raw and painful that it made her throat constrict. This whole situation affected him more than he’d ever admit. As she watched him flick through the clippings, a soft curse crossed his lips.

Her heart ached for him at that moment, compassion propelling her forward.

“It’s a weird paradox, isn’t it?” she said softly.

He turned, the shutters descending as he placed a hand on the stack. “What? Being eviscerated by the press?”

“Having people think you’ve gotten away with murder, yet being hounded by every news outlet for your exclusive story.”

“You get used to it.”

“No, you don’t.” She went to the table and shuffled the clippings back into their folder, determinedly ignoring the minuscule distance separating them. Yet she couldn’t ignore the way her entire body tingled under his scrutiny. “No one could.”

“And you know what it’s been like for me.”

She snapped her chin up, barely catching the tail end of his look—a mixture of derision and irritation.

Something inside her gave way. “I’ve been there, Alex. It may have been on a small scale, I may have only been fifteen but I remember every single humiliating detail.” She shoved her hands on her hips, back rigid. “It’s all the Spanish press covered for weeks—‘Gabriela, the wild twelve-year-old druggie daughter of Senator Juan Valero.’ They’d follow us to school, bribe our friends for an exclusive. One even broke into our summer house. We couldn’t function, couldn’t
breathe
without causing a headline. We moved to Australia to get away from that.” She paused for a breath, her face hot. “So don’t tell me I don’t know what it’s like. I’ve lived it.”

Alex stared at her, at the tightly controlled, elegant fury beneath that icy demeanor.

She frowned. “Gabriela never told you?”

“No. She just said your father was appointed to the Spanish embassy.”

“He chased that appointment, much to my mother’s horror. In her opinion, Australia was an uncultured backwater. My father spent a lot of time and money—not to mention kissing up—to ensure our past faded away.”

“So that’s why…” At her raised eyebrow, he finished off with, “You’re a peacemaker. You always have been.”

She shrugged, dropping her eyes. “Am I?”

“Yes. I’ve never seen you deliberately start an argument.”

“Oh, I’ve started a few,” she said dryly.

“Not in public. And I reckon that’s why you’re in PR. It’s why you’re so good at it. You know, creating calm in the face of public frenzy.”

She blinked, faintly chagrined. “Maybe.”

“Definitely.” It didn’t take a genius to figure that out. Before now he’d never fully recognized Yelena’s obsession for calming waves. Yet it was hardly surprising, given what she’d been through. And, he realized, if one person could drag
the Rush name out of the gutter, someone who was passionate, compelled and committed, it was Yelena.

Something must have given him away, something he’d let slip that showed on his face, because she was smiling at him, her first honest-to-goodness smile since she’d walked into her office at Bennett & Harper.

“Alex, I need to ask you about—”

“Mmm?”

Yelena swallowed as a familiar look passed over his features. It was his frankly provocative “I want to taste you” look—
that look
—that made her blood zing, exciting all her womanly bits, making her wish for one insane second that he’d do exactly what his eyes promised and kiss her.

The fight-or-flight response snaked low in her gut, her brain commanding her to run. Her leg muscles tingled in preparation, waiting for the signal.

Then the doorbell chimed and she nearly jumped a foot in the air. A fact Alex didn’t miss, judging by his grin. She shot him a glare and went to answer the door, unsure if relief or annoyance tossed in her stomach. Both felt dissatisfying.

The waiter swept in and began to set up the meal. By the time he’d left, it was as if their little exchange had never happened. Which was fine considering she’d other things to focus on right now: her stomach began to rumble as Alex removed the warming lids with a flourish.

He’d ordered a large platter of assorted seafood—barbequed calamari, beer-batter fish and delicately crumbed scallops. To one side, there was a bowl of fresh salad with three separate dressings. Next to that, a bowl of crisp chips accompanied by a dish of dressing and crumbly sea salt.

He watched her closely. “You approve?”

“You know I do.” Seafood and chips were her favorite—he knew that. A reluctant smile tugged at her mouth. A peace offering?

Then he was pulling out her chair. “Shall we eat?”

Despite Alex’s declaration that they needed to discuss business, they filled their plates in silence, two people resolutely focused on that small act of polite domesticity. Yet after Yelena had taken a bite of her food her taste buds exploded, clearing her brain of all else.

“This is amazing!” She savored the delicate flavor of calamari.

Alex smiled, chewing away. “All credit goes to Franco. I stole him from Icebergs in Sydney. Try the chips with the aioli.”

She speared a chunky golden chip with her fork, obediently dipping it into the creamy white dressing.

Luxury burst over her tongue and she gave another appreciative groan. But what did her in was Alex’s sensual mouth, curved up in amusement. It brought back a moment of pure unadulterated desire so powerful that it staggered her.

“Told you,” he murmured before shoving another forkful in his mouth, chewing slowly without taking his eyes from her.

That all-knowing gaze recorded her every movement, from the faltering breath she drew, to the gradual exhale. It was keenly familiar, that almost promissory glint in his eyes, as if the past few months had ceased to exist and he was once again all hers.

Her skin felt so warm she was sure her temperature had risen a few degrees, the air so thick she had trouble clearing her throat. But finally she did.

“I’ve had a few ideas for your campaign.”

A brief flicker of surprise shadowed his eyes. “That was quick.”

“That’s what you hired me for.”

She’d deliberately steered their conversation into neutral waters. So what prompted her tiny pang of disappointment when his eyes suddenly turned serious?

“Go on.”

“I think we should start with something local. Some kind of party or celebration that includes the community and Diamond Bay employees.” She placed her cutlery on the table and leaned forward. “This resort employs thousands and generates some major tourist dollars. Your tenth anniversary is next year, right?” At his nod, she continued. “So as a lead-up, you could host a party—say the first of September for the first day of spring. It could be a showcase for local talent, too. Chefs, musicians. Artists. Decorators. We can have a main marquee for the art and decorations, then a separate one for the music. And outside we can set up long tables for the food, with Diamond Bay covering any shortfall. It’d be a social and practical event rolled into one.”

She paused for a breath, looking at Alex expectantly. But when he remained silent, her broad smile faltered. “Well? What do you think?”

“The first is two weeks away,” he finally said.

“I’ve organized other events in less time. And because we’d be using a lot of external resources and labor, Diamond Falls’ workload will be less.”

“I see.”

“We’d need one of your legal people to take care of the insurance. We’d also need a supplier liaison and a press person. I checked your staff directory—you have a dedicated press office and a banquets division, yes?”

“Yes.” He gave his attention to his plate, where he proceeded to cut into a piece of fish with one clean slice. “You’ve given this some thought.”

“I have. Actually, the idea came from your mother.”

He looked up, capturing her eyes as he slowly placed the food in his mouth. Yelena nodded. “She was talking about the local talent—musicians, artists—and how she wanted to get involved with them, promote their work to a wider audience.”

“I see,” was all he said as he chewed.
How could he not
know this?
Finally swallowing, he added, “Do you have some figures, details?”

“I’ll need to speak with one of your accounts people…tomorrow?”

He reached for his wineglass and cradled it gently in his hand. “I’ll arrange it.”

“Great!” Yelena felt relief shade the edges of her satisfied smile and with a nod she refocused on her meal.

Thankfully, discussing local businesses and the physical logistics of arranging the event kept them talking until after coffee. But when Alex called room service to clear the table, Yelena’s good mood shattered with her ringing phone.

It was Carlos.

“Where are you?”

“Why?” With a glance at Alex, she quickly walked down the hall and into the bathroom.

“Are you with—” he paused, then almost spat out the words “—Alex Rush?”

“Again, why?” She gently closed the door.

“Dammit, Yelena! I told you to stay away from him.”

“You’ve told me nothing of the sort.”

“I would’ve thought my silence on the subject didn’t need elaboration.”

She glared at her reflection in the mirror. “I’m not a mind reader, Carlos.”

His huff of impatience cranked up her irritation. “What’s gotten into you? You used to be so…”