Harlequin Romance Bundle: Brides and Babies

by Liz Fielding

  Next time he called in, he’d see them there and he’d remember, too.

  She caught herself. Next time? She shook her head as if to clear it. Enjoy the moment, she reminded herself. Enjoy each time he broke stride, found precious time to be with her.

  Then she smiled. She might not have been able to do more than delay him but she’d done a very satisfactory job of distracting him. The image she’d planted in his head, her scent, the taste of her, would be with him all the time he was with the accountant, discussing the costs for fitting out and launching Bella Lucia in Meridia.

  When Gemma returned with the vase, she lingered, fussing with the flowers until Louise put down her pen, sat back and said, ‘Okay. You’ve obviously got something on your mind. Out with it.’

  ‘It’s nothing.’ Then, finally, she looked at her. ‘Just…You will be careful, Lou?’

  ‘Careful? Is this where I get the “safe sex” lecture?’

  ‘Well, if you think you need a refresher course, but to be honest I was more concerned about your heart. Max Valentine is not exactly Mr Commitment, is he?’

  ‘That’s not fair!’ Louise responded without thinking. Defending him. Who, in all his life, had ever been one hundred per cent committed to him? Put him first?

  Then, as Gemma’s eyebrows hit the ceiling and she realised that she’d overdone it, she tried to limit the damage.

  ‘I’m not looking for commitment,’ she said. And it was true, she wasn’t. Hadn’t been…‘This thing between Max and me…’

  How to explain it to Gemma? Impossible when she wasn’t entirely sure what it was herself. It had all seemed so simple…

  ‘This “thing”?’ Gemma prompted, making quote marks that suggested scepticism, if not downright sarcasm.

  No, it was simple.

  ‘It’s not serious. Really,’ she stressed when her PA, who knew her far too well to be easily fooled, did not look convinced. ‘It’s just unfinished business, that’s all. Something that’s been simmering away since we were adolescents. It should have happened a long time ago. Would have if we’d known the truth, that I was adopted. That there was no impediment to a relationship.’

  ‘So all that snapping and snarling at one another was no more than repressed lust and now, what, you’re just getting it-getting him-out of your system?’

  ‘You see? Easy,’ she said, with more conviction than she actually felt. It had been so heart-stoppingly special to look up, see him there. ‘It’s no more than a bit of fun,’ she insisted.

  Gemma was looking at her a little oddly and even as she said the words she knew, deep down, that it had gone way beyond that.

  But it was a temporary madness. It had to be. She’d given herself until the fourteenth. On that day all debts would be paid and by then Max Valentine would be out of her system, as Gemma had so neatly put it.

  ‘So why be coy?’ her PA persisted. ‘It’s not as if either of you are involved with anyone else. Max is apparently wedded to his job and it’s been nearly three years since you split up with-’

  Louise stopped her with an impatient gesture. She didn’t want to think about James, let alone talk about him.

  ‘Dad’s had enough shocks lately, don’t you think? You know the history.’

  She’d spilled it all to Gemma, needing someone completely neutral to talk to after her father had blurted out that she was adopted. It was Gemma who’d held the tissues, poured the brandy, found out how to trace her real mother.

  ‘I can see that your dad wouldn’t be exactly thrilled by the idea of you and Max as an item,’ Gemma admitted, ‘but neither of you are kids…’

  ‘No. We’re not. I told you, it’s no more than a…’ Louise made a vague gesture, unable to say the words again.

  ‘A bit of fun,’ Gemma said, obligingly filling in the blanks for her.

  ‘So,’ she said. ‘You must see why we’re not broadcasting it.’

  ‘And Max feels that way too?’

  Her PA was nothing if not persistent. ‘You were the one who pointed out his commitment problem.’

  ‘So I did.’ Then, brightly, ‘And actually I do understand, boss. If I was having “a bit of fun” with a man who put an urgent appointment with his accountant ahead of some hot lunchtime sex, I wouldn’t want anyone to know, either.’

  ‘Gemma!’

  ‘No, honestly, your secret is safe with me,’ she said, grinning wickedly, ‘although next time you might try-’

  ‘Enough!’

  ‘Only trying to help,’ she said, turning to go. Then, turning back, ‘Just do yourself a favour, Lou, and remember that while Max Valentine is undoubtedly having fun-’ She held up her hands ‘-okay, okay, you’re both having fun,’ she went on quickly before Louise could interrupt. ‘But when it’s all over, when he’s got you out of his system, he’ll be able to walk away without a backward glance.’

  Once she would have believed that, before he’d opened up to her about his mother, his childhood. Not just that painfully cryptic moment on the plane but in the quiet moments of intimacy he’d somehow been able to respond to her queries about how things had gone with a frankness that had shown her a new side of his character. She knew that the charming, untouchable, totally in control Max Valentine had a vulnerability that she suspected no one else had ever seen.

  But she was vulnerable, too, hiding inside her own shell, and with an archness she was far from feeling she said, ‘Are you suggesting that I won’t?’

  ‘All I’m saying, Louise, is that it’s taken you three years to get over James Cadogan. I very much doubt that you’re a woman who can do detached “fun”.’

  ‘Gem-’

  ‘It’s okay, lecture over,’ Gemma said, backing off. ‘I’m going to get a sandwich. Can I bring anything for you?’

  ‘Please,’ she said, relieved to be moving into safer territory. ‘Salmon,’ she said. ‘And a blueberry yoghurt.’

  ‘Anything else?’

  A chance to do things again, perhaps. Max had been casual enough about her need for secrecy, but he didn’t like it. It wasn’t as if they were doing anything wrong, anything they need be ashamed of. They were together and, no matter how temporary their affair was intended to be, in some deep, hidden recess of her soul, she knew she wanted the world to know, to see what they had.

  ‘Lou?’

  She shook her head. ‘Nothing.’ Nothing anyone could give her.

  ‘I’ve got confirmation of an article in a heavyweight international financial journal today, Max. The package I put together of the Qu’Arim restaurant sold it to them.’

  ‘Mmm?’

  He was engrossed in a booking list and only gave Louise half his attention.

  She reached over and removed the sheet of paper he was working on and when he looked up, she kissed him. Only when he was kissing her back did she pull away. ‘It’s half past six, Max. My time.’

  He leaned back, squeezed the space between his eyes. Smiled at her. ‘You look good enough to eat.’

  ‘That is not out of the question. First, business.’

  ‘A financial journal?’ he said, just to demonstrate that he’d been listening. ‘Why would they be interested in us?’’

  ‘The first new Bella Lucia in twenty-five years may only be of passing interest to the kind of people who make their global deals over lunch at the Mayfair restaurant,’ she began. ‘Something to note for the next time they’re in Qu’Arim-’

  ‘Only of passing interest?’

  Question the interest quotient of his precious restaurants and suddenly she had his attention.

  ‘So what’s the big deal?’ he asked.

  ‘The big deal is not a single restaurant, but that it’s the first in a new era of expansion. This magazine is read by people who know us, trust us, show it by coming here to make their deals in the discreet atmosphere of the Mayfair restaurant. They can smooth our path overseas, Max. They’ll come to us with partnership proposals, finance.’ Then, when he didn’t immediately congratul
ate her for being brilliant, ‘Tell me if you think I’m stepping on your toes again, Max.’ Then, more concerned at how tired he looked than that he wasn’t interested in what she had to say, ‘If you’re really too busy to spare me half an hour this evening?’

  ‘No, no…’He dragged his fingers through hair that already bore the evidence of previous abuse. ‘Really. Tell me about it.’

  ‘I’ll make an appointment for you to meet with their features writer,’ she continued. ‘In the meantime they want pictures, not just of you but of Dad and your father, too. I’ve organised that for tomorrow. Here. The Mayfair restaurant will be familiar-’

  ‘For goodness sake, Lou, we’ve only just managed to shoehorn the pair of them out to pasture. Give them an inch-’

  ‘Relax. You’ll be front and centre, but the features writer will want some background on William Valentine, personal memories. How he built his empire from scratch after the war, when there was still rationing.’ She smiled. ‘They like men who can overcome apparently insurmountable obstacles to make things happen. And three generations of Valentines make us look solid.’

  ‘We are solid.’

  ‘I know, but trust me on this, Max. It’ll look good.’

  ‘Yes, of course it will. Sorry.’ Then, ‘You’ve spoken to your father?’

  ‘No, I was busy. Gemma organised it all.’

  ‘Lou…’ He got up, put his arms around her, pulled her close. ‘You can’t go on punishing them like this. They love you.’

  ‘They lied to me.’

  ‘They were afraid.’

  ‘They were?’ She pulled back. Looked up at him. ‘Why?’

  ‘They were afraid that you wouldn’t love them as much if they weren’t your own parents.’

  ‘But that’s…’ She was going to say that it was ridiculous. But he’d had stepmothers who’d had children of their own. For whom he was just a tiresome add-on. How had that felt? ‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘I just need a little more time.’

  ‘Don’t leave it too long.’ Then, gesturing at the paperwork on his desk, taking the crumpled paper from her own hand, ‘Let me get this straight and we’ll go and have a drink.’ He pulled a face as he returned to his chair. ‘I’ll need a drink.’

  ‘What are you doing?’ she asked, looking over his shoulder and felt a sharp chill. ‘Oh, you’re working on Valentine’s Day.’

  Huge tips from goofily happy men and a fabulous party afterwards to celebrate the anniversary of the opening of the Chelsea restaurant on Valentine’s Day in nineteen forty-six. It was a magic occasion. And this year was their diamond jubilee, so they were pulling out all the stops.

  ‘It’s next week,’ he said, looking up at her as if he wanted to say something. Thinking better of it.

  He didn’t have to say it. They both knew that the fourteenth was her own self-imposed deadline.

  ‘How are we doing?’ she asked.

  ‘Booked to the rafters. All that stuff about us in last week’s City Lights seems to have made everyone crazy to celebrate with us.’

  ‘It’s word association, Max.’ He looked up. ‘The juxtaposition of diamonds and Valentine’s Day. It was an easy sell.’ Then, ‘Maybe you should insist that all the men are going to be packing the real thing before we accept their bookings.’ Max frowned. ‘We don’t want any of our female diners to go home disappointed.’

  ‘You’re talking about engagement rings?’

  ‘Well, obviously.’

  ‘Wouldn’t that rather spoil the surprise?’

  ‘If an unmarried woman gets taken out to dinner at Bella Lucia on Valentine’s Day, the only surprise will be if there isn’t a ring hidden in the dessert. What could be described as a dumb-male, tears-before-bedtime scenario.’

  He laughed. ‘Right.’ Then, sitting back, easing his neck. ‘Would you believe that I’ve never had a Valentine’s Day date?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘It’s true. There’s never been a Valentine’s Day when I haven’t had to work. From the day I turned eighteen and was old enough to serve a drink, it was the one night I had to turn up and pitch in.’

  ‘Well, that’s one way of avoiding matrimony,’ she agreed, dropping a kiss on his forehead. ‘You’re clearly too busy to talk marketing and PR tonight. Let’s give it a miss.’

  ‘No…’ He reached out, caught her hand. ‘You could stay and help. It is all your fault that we’re overwhelmed.’

  ‘Thanks, but I’ll pass on that one.’

  ‘You could just stay and let me look at you.’

  ‘Tempting, but once you get drawn into the nitty-gritty of how much chocolate, how much champagne you’re going to need, you’ll forget I’m here.’

  For a moment she thought he might protest. Thought he might abandon planning the biggest night of their year and take her for that drink he’d offered. Instead he dragged his fingers through his hair, and, his attention already back on the complex planning required to ensure that everything ran smoothly, he said, ‘You’re right. I’ll see you later.’

  No. She should say no. Begin to ease away now while she still could…

  ‘If I’m asleep…’ she said, putting a spare set of keys on his desk and instead of taking a step back, keeping their relationship at a level where just sleeping together was enough, she said, ‘Don’t wake me.’

  Max picked up the keys, watched her gather her things, smile back at him as she headed for the door, hating to see her go. She brightened his day, had changed his life in ways he couldn’t begin to understand. It gave him a new kind of strength, and yet it frightened the life out of him, too. He’d surrendered something to her, lost the one thing that had kept him together even during the blackest times. Control.

  ‘Louise…’ She paused, turned back. ‘About the Valentine’s party…’

  He’d been doing his best not to think about the huge party the family threw each year, after the restaurants closed-a celebration, a thank-you to all the staff. All day, as he’d been working on the plans for that evening, he’d remembered their deal, that she planned to draw a line under her involvement on that day…

  ‘What about it?’ she asked.

  ‘You will be there?’

  She hesitated. He almost thought her shoulders sagged a little. Then she nodded.

  ‘Sure, Max,’ she said. ‘I might even dance with you.’

  ‘Uncle Robert!’ Louise dropped her briefcase on Max’s desk, kissed his father, bestowed the kind of brief, distant smile on Max that she’d always used around her family. His eyebrows rose a touch, he held her gaze for a moment longer than felt right, but then just nodded. Let it be. And that felt wrong, too. This was all wrong. She should go to him, kiss him…

  ‘How’s Aunt Bev?’ she asked, turning to Max’s father.

  ‘Good. She sends her love,’ he said. ‘Your father isn’t with you?’

  ‘He’s making his own way here.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘The photographer isn’t due for another fifteen minutes…’ She turned as the door opened behind her.

  Her father had lost weight since his heart attack. Had been taking exercise, watching his diet. He looked fitter than he had done in a long time, she thought.

  Fitter and angrier.

  He was carrying a folded newspaper and, ignoring her, he walked up to Max and slapped it against his chest.

  ‘Do you want to tell me what’s going on?’

  ‘John…’

  John Valentine silenced his brother with a look. ‘He’s a man. Let him speak for himself. Well?’ he demanded.

  Max had caught the paper before it fell and, without answering, looked at it. Said one brief word.

  ‘“Kissing Cousins?”’ John Valentine demanded as Max offered the paper to Louise so that she could see for herself.

  It was just a single paragraph in the diary column of the London Courier.

  Headed, Kissing Cousins? it said:

  We are delighted to learn that our favourite PR consultant, Louise Valentine, is bac
k in the family fold. Relations have been somewhat strained, apparently, since the disclosure that Louise was adopted. All is now peace and harmony, however, and she’s putting her talents to good use, working with her cousin Max Valentine to promote the family’s exclusive Bella Lucia restaurants.

  Louise, who was once a regular girl-about-town and closely linked with the Hon James Cadogan-soon to be married to former model Charlotte Berkeley-has, in recent years, devoted all her energies to building her own business.

  Max, rarely without a beauty on his arm and frequently seen playing in the Sultan of Qu’Arim’s polo team, has also dropped out of the social scene to concentrate on ambitious expansion plans overseas.

  The couple, who were recently spotted dining together with Louise’s birth mother, the lively Patsy Simpson Harcourt and her new husband, are said to be inseparable, although they’re keeping their romance low-key at the moment. We wish them both well.

  ‘Said?’ she demanded. ‘Who said? No one…’

  Louise barely stopped herself from letting slip her own version of Max’s expletive, but it was too late. She’d already confirmed her father’s worst fears.

  ‘Well, I don’t have to ask if it’s true. I’ve only got to look at you.’

  ‘Daddy…’ The childish word slipped out, maybe because that was exactly how she felt. Like a child who’d disappointed her father.

  ‘I’m not blaming you, Louise.’

  Blaming her!

  ‘I realise you’ve been knocked for six by everything that’s happened and he’s clearly taken advantage of you when you’re in a vulnerable-’

  ‘Would someone mind telling me what the hell is going on?’ Robert demanded.

  Louise handed the paper to her uncle without a word, but he didn’t get a chance to read for himself before his brother rounded on him.

  ‘What’s going on?’ John demanded. He took a step closer. ‘What’s going on? You have to ask? He’s your son,’ he said, pointing at Max, ‘and the apple doesn’t fall very far from the tree. Ask him what’s going on!’

  ‘Dad! Please.’ Louise reached for her father’s arm, concerned for him. ‘Did you travel into town on your own?’

  ‘Of course I travelled on my own. I’ve been commuting between Richmond and Mayfair all my working life. I don’t need a minder to hold my hand.’