Blake did want to. He wanted to so badly it wouldn’t have mattered if some of those little pills hadn’t been taken. If none of those pills had been taken. Right now he needed her as he had needed no one before. It was a fire in his blood. A red-hot fever that could not be quelled. He rolled her so she was beneath him and she gave a little gasp of surprise when his erection bumped against her mound. ‘Sorry. Am I rushing you?’ he said, checking himself.
Her hands grabbed him by the buttocks, drawing him close to her damp heat. ‘I want you.’
‘I want you too, so much,’ he said, sinking in between her silken wet folds with a groan.
I can’t seem to stop wanting you.
Her legs wrapped around his and he rocked with her in a frenzied quest for satiation. His skin was alive with nerve endings, his blood racing, pounding with the thrill of being as close as it was possible to be to another person. Not just skin on skin. Intimate skin on skin. His mouth fed off hers, his tongue tangling erotically with hers, escalating the pulse of lust driving through him. He reached between their striving bodies, his fingers finding her swollen flesh, and within seconds she erupted into a rippling orgasm that catapulted him into the abyss...
Blake lost track of time. It could have been seconds, minutes or even half an hour before either of them spoke. He stroked the back of her head where her hair was matted from rubbing against the pillow. He was still a little stunned by the sensations that powered through him. Making love with her seemed to get better and better. More satisfying. More exciting.
More...everything.
Her fingers did a soft tiptoeing thing against his sternum. ‘Blake?’
‘Mmm?’
‘It was a nice thought about buying Maude’s B&B,’ she said. ‘A really nice thought.’
‘But you won’t accept it from me.’ He didn’t frame it as a question but as a matter of fact.
She raised her gaze to his. ‘I’ve already accepted way too much off you. The money you paid off my debts with. This ridiculously expensive ring I’m wearing.’
He stroked a fingertip over the small frown creasing her forehead. ‘I don’t want you to feel exploited when this is over.’
Her eyes slipped out of reach of his. ‘What if Mr Pendleton takes longer than you expected to make up his mind about selling? What if this—’ she emphasised the word slightly ‘—drags on for longer than you expected?’
Blake was well aware things weren’t going strictly according to plan. The old man was proving tricky to win over. He’d been sure the announcement of his engagement to Tillie would be enough to seal the deal but, if anything, it had complicated things. Deeply complicated things. Close to two weeks had already gone by and the old codger hadn’t budged. Another week or two might improve negotiations, but it would also further cement the bond that was developing between Blake and Tillie. A bond he normally didn’t form with anyone during a fling. The sort of bond that would not be so easy to dismantle when it was time to move on. Not just a bond of friendship and mutual admiration, but an intimate connection he had never felt with anyone before now.
He felt her touch in places no one had ever reached. It was as if she reached right into his chest with her soft dainty hand, resting it against the membrane of his heart. He could feel it right now. A presence. A weight. A pressure. Every time he breathed it was like he was breathing with her.
‘We’ll see how the rest of the month pans out and then we’ll take stock,’ he said. ‘That is, unless you’re getting bored already?’
She gave a soft laugh and snuggled closer. ‘Not yet, but I’ll let you know.’
CHAPTER NINE
TILLIE WAS SERVING one of her regular customers in the shop when Simon’s mother, Marilyn, came in. She kept her professional and polite smile in place and made sure her engagement ring was clearly on show when she placed her hands on top of the counter.
‘Hello, Marilyn, what can I do for you today?’
‘I’m not here to buy anything,’ Marilyn said. ‘I just wanted to...to see how you are.’
‘Well, as you can see, I’m just fine,’ Tillie said. ‘But it was nice of you to think of me and take time out of your busy day to drop by.’
When you haven’t graced me with your obnoxious presence for nearly four months.
Marilyn gave a version of a smile—a movement of her lips that looked like a thin ribbon stretching. ‘Have you been in contact with Simon? I mean, recently?’
‘No. No contact. But it’s better that way, especially now I’m engaged and—’
‘It was wrong what he did to you, Tillie,’ Marilyn said, her hands gripping her handbag against her stomach. ‘Terribly, unforgivably wrong. I should have said something before now. But the thing is... I always felt he was wrong for you. That’s why I didn’t encourage the relationship. I must have hurt you by being so cold and distant, but I thought you would finally realise you could do much better than Simon.’
Much better than her precious perfect son?
Tillie wasn’t sure she was hearing properly. Could this confession/apology be for real? ‘Look, it’s really nice of you to—’
‘I’m glad you’ve found someone,’ Marilyn said. ‘From all I’ve heard so far, Blake McClelland seems perfect husband material and apparently madly in love with you. I’m pleased for you, dear. I was worried you’d end up alone and moping about Simon for the rest of your life.’
Not flipping likely.
Tillie hadn’t thought about Simon in weeks. She could barely recall what he looked like. ‘Blake is a wonderful man and I’m very lucky he came along when he did.’
And isn’t that the truth?
Her life was completely different now Blake was a part of it. She smiled more, she laughed more. She felt more. Things she had never felt before. Not just sexual things but other things.
Things that could not be so easily described.
Marilyn’s expression turned sour. ‘When I think of how I could have had you as a daughter-in-law instead of...of that...that creature Simon met online. And now he’s gone and got her pregnant so there’ll be no getting rid of her now. She’ll want a ring on her finger and a big flashy wedding.’
Tillie expected to feel shocked, even a little sad at the news of Simon becoming a father, but instead she felt...nothing. It was as if Marilyn were talking about a stranger. Someone who had not been in her life at all. ‘But it will be nice for you to have a grandchild, won’t it?’
Marilyn’s eyes looked suspiciously moist. ‘Oh, Tillie, how can you be so...so nice about this? I know your dad and stepmother brought you up to be polite and gracious but surely it’s not healthy to be so calm and accepting about this? If you weren’t so happy with Blake I would beg you to come back and talk some sense into Simon. But I guess that’s not possible, is it?’
Tillie’s conscience gave her a tiny prod. She was far too happy with Blake. Dangerously happy. What-am-I-going-to-do-now? happy. ‘No. It’s not.’
Soon after Marilyn left, Tillie saw an email had finally come in from her father and stepmother. She opened the message to find their monthly newsletter they sent to all their friends with a short missive addressed to her at the bottom, briefly congratulating her on her engagement and expressing their pleasure in her ability to forgive and move on from Simon.
She stared at the message for a long moment. So the main issue for them was still her forgiving Simon. Didn’t they want to know more about Blake? How happy he made her? How much he made her feel alive? Didn’t they want to rush home to meet him? Wasn’t her happiness more important to them than anything else? She knew the problems her father and stepmother dealt with in Uganda were not trivial. They were life and death issues and she had no business feeling piqued they hadn’t shown more interest in what was happening in her life. But just like the time they had moved parishes, she was left standing on the station platform, feeling terribly alone.
Later that day, Tillie went with Truffles to see Mr Pendleton after work. Blake h
ad texted her to tell her he had some business to see to and would see her at home later, promising to take her out to dinner to save her from cooking.
Mr Pendleton was sitting in a recliner chair in his room and looking listlessly out of the window, but immediately brightened when she came in with Truffles. ‘Ah, my two favourite girls.’ He fondled the dog’s ears and then looked at Tillie. ‘Well, well, well, you’ve certainly got a glow about you these days.’
The only glow Tillie was aware of was the one currently blazing from her cheeks. Could Mr Pendleton somehow see that only that morning she’d had smoking-hot sex with Blake in the shower and all these hours later her body was still tingling? ‘Have I?’
‘So the engagement is still going strong, then, is it?’
‘Yes. We’re very happy. He’s fun to be around and he’s wonderful with Truffles. He takes her for long walks and he clears away after dinner. And he’s sorted out a few maintenance issues at the Park for you. What’s not to love?’
His expression was suddenly like an inquisitive bird. ‘So you actually...love him?’
‘Of course I love him,’ Tillie said.
Gosh, how easy is this lying caper getting? That didn’t even feel like a lie.
It had felt so easy to say much the same to Simon’s mother earlier that day. She hadn’t felt as if she was lying at all. The words had tripped off her tongue with an authenticity she couldn’t explain. Didn’t want to explain.
‘Maybe I was wrong about that man,’ he said. ‘It’s not that I don’t like him. I do. He’s got backbone, drive, ambition.’
I like him, too. Maybe a little too much.
Tillie sat down on the visitor’s chair next to his chair. ‘Have you decided what you’re going to do about McClelland Park?’
Mr Pendleton’s eyes met hers in a searching manner. ‘Is that what you want, Tillie? To live there with him and raise the family you’ve always wanted?’
Tillie’s throat was suddenly blocked as if she had tried to swallow one of the pillows.
Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.
Why hadn’t she realised this until now? Or had she done her usual thing of ignoring the blatantly obvious? Living in a state of denial until it was too late. No wonder she hadn’t been upset to hear about her ex becoming a father, because the only person she wanted to father her children was Blake. The man she had fallen hopelessly in love with in spite of every promise and assurance not to. How could she not fall in love with him? He was everything she longed for in a partner.
He wasn’t just Mr Right.
He was Mr Perfect.
He was her person. The go-to person she could talk to about stuff she hadn’t talked about with anyone else. The person who listened and felt things on her behalf and made her feel things she had never felt before.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I want that more than anything.’
It wasn’t a lie. It was true. In every way it could be it was true. She wanted to be with Blake. Not just in a short-term fling.
She wanted to stay with him for ever.
Who was she kidding? She wasn’t a single-and-loving-it girl. She was a marriage-or-nothing girl. It wasn’t something she could change on a whim like changing a pair of shoes.
It wasn’t changeable.
It was indelibly printed on her soul—she was a girl who wanted the fairy tale because she knew she couldn’t be happy with anyone other than Blake. She didn’t have to have heaps of flings with a bunch of men to know he was the right man for her.
The only man for her.
As soon as he’d kissed her something had happened that had ruined her for anyone else. He had turned on her passion—passion that could only ever be triggered by him.
Mr Pendleton released a sigh. ‘I might be an old man now but I still remember what it was like to be in love. I miss my Velma every day.’
‘I know, it must be so lonely for you.’
He tapped his gnarled fingers on the arms of his chair, his caterpillar-like brows almost touching over his eyes. ‘I’m going to have to do something about that dog. I can’t take her where I’m going.’
Tillie swallowed again. ‘Where do you plan to go?’
‘Plan?’ He made a scoffing noise. ‘That’s the damn trouble with getting old. You lose the ability to plan anything. Things happen and you have no control over them.’
‘It must be very hard...’
He turned his head to look out of the window again, blinking a couple of times in rapid succession, and his dentures making a clicking noise as if he was swallowing against a tide of emotion. Truffles stopped chewing the rubber doorstop behind the door and came over and sat with her head on his knee and gave him a melting look. His hand absently stroked her head and he slowly turned to look at Tillie. ‘I’m going to move into a care facility. I don’t want to but I can’t manage on my own. The Park’s way too big for an old man like me. The place is meant to be for a family, not some old geezer with one and a half feet in the grave.’
Tillie grasped one of his hands, so close to tears she could feel them stinging her eyes. ‘I’ll still come and visit you every day. And I’ll take care of Truffles and bring her in with me—that is, if they allow dogs to visit.’
His expression had a touch of wryness about it. ‘Won’t you be too busy making babies to be worrying about me?’
No, I won’t. I’ll be sitting on my own watching PG movies with a dog chewing anything that isn’t nailed down.
* * *
Blake swung by the respite facility on his way home to see Mr Pendleton before he took Tillie out to dinner. The old man had left a message on his phone saying he wanted to speak to him. He tried not to get too excited. Mr Pendleton could be manipulating him for all he knew. The month was almost up. He would have to make a decision soon for he couldn’t stay in respite indefinitely. He would have to be moved to somewhere where his needs could be taken care of going forward. Blake wasn’t going to get his hopes too high until he had seen the old man’s signature on the documents.
He had a special evening planned for Tillie. Dinner in a small but excellent restaurant he’d got to hear of via a business client. After dinner there was a wine bar with live music for dancing, and after that home to bed.
Home.
It was funny how he was starting to think of McClelland Park and Tillie as if they were inextricably linked. But in a way they were. She was the reason he was this close to getting his ancestral home back. If he pulled this off, he would always be grateful for her role in that.
But it was more than that. Tillie made the big old house feel like a home. All the little touches she gave that reminded him of his mother. The vases of fragrant flowers, the home-baked goodies stacked in tins in the pantry, the freshly aired rooms and crisp clean linen on the bed. The house had a vibrant, almost palpable energy in it when she was there. On the days he’d got home first, the house had seemed cavernous, cold, creaky. But Tillie’s bright presence shone light into every dark corner of that house.
Mr Pendleton was sitting by the window in a recliner chair and for a moment Blake stood watching from the doorway. The old man looked sad and weary, his thin frame seeming shrunken, as if the bones of his skeleton were too tired to hold him upright.
‘Jim?’
The old man turned his head to look at him. ‘McClelland.’
Blake brought another chair closer, his nostrils picking up a faint trace of Tillie’s perfume in the air. ‘Has Tillie just been in?’
‘Half an hour ago,’ Mr Pendleton said. ‘She brought the dog. She’s going to keep her for me. I can’t take her into the care facility with me.’
‘That’s a shame,’ Blake said. ‘But Tillie will do an awesome job of looking after Truffles.’
Mr Pendleton’s birdlike gaze pecked at his. ‘She tells me she’s in love with you. I didn’t believe it the first time she told me. But I do now.’
Blake ignored the faint prickle on his scalp. Tillie was a fine actor. She knew how much he
wanted to buy the Park back. She was pulling all the stops out to help him. Of course she was acting like a woman in love because that was their agreement. He was doing a damn fine impression of a man in love, too. Damn fine.
‘I’m a lucky man,’ he said, throwing in a smile for good measure.
Mr Pendleton’s expression looked like a scrunched-up paper bag. ‘You don’t fool me for a second, McClelland. You’re not in love with her.’
Maybe his acting could do with a little work after all.
‘What makes you think that?’
‘How far will you go to get back McClelland Park?’
Blake resisted the urge to shift his weight under the piercing scrutiny of the old man’s gaze. He’d tussled and won with much tougher old men than Jim Pendleton. Much tougher. ‘I’m prepared to pay you more than the market price. Double, even.’
Mr Pendleton gave a breath of a laugh. ‘Money. You think I want money at this time of life? What I need is...never mind what I need.’ His brows drew together again. ‘I’ll sell you the place. I was always going to, you know.’
You were?
Blake was proud of his poker face. So why the run around? What had the old man hoped to achieve? A last ditch at power games? He didn’t know whether to be relieved his goal was finally nailed or angry he’d been made to jump through hoops like a circus dog.
‘I loved living there all these years but it’s never been the same without Velma and my daughter, Alice,’ Mr Pendleton said. ‘That’s what makes a place a home—the people who live in it with you. But you don’t need me to tell you that. I’m sure you remember all too well how empty a place can be once you lose someone you love.’
That was why Blake didn’t love anyone that much. Not enough to be devastated when they were no longer there. Not enough to wrench his heart out of his chest and leave a giant bleeding, gaping hole.
‘When do you want me to draw up the paperwork?’ he said.
‘As soon as you like,’ Mr Pendleton said.
Blake wondered why he wasn’t feeling the sense of satisfaction he’d thought he’d be feeling right now. He’d done it. He’d got the old man to agree to sell him back his home. ‘Would you like me to take you to the Park so Tillie and I can help you sort through your things?’
The Tycoon's Marriage Deal Page 12