The #1 Bestsellers Collection 2011

by Catherine Mann

  A short sharp bark of laughter ejected from her throat. Need? What did he know about need? He had it all in spades. A family, a home. A job. And now this baby. All she had left was her pride and a whole lot of expenses, and her pride was about to take a long walk off a short pier. She had to tell him about Andrea, risk more of his pity. If he didn’t understand why the money was so important, she didn’t know what to do next.

  “This is about more than my comfort. Have you ever heard of juvenile Huntington’s disease?”

  “Vaguely.” His face blanched in the evening light. “Are you saying you’re a carrier?”

  “No. I don’t even have a medical background to check. But my sister—my foster sister—Andrea, has the disease. She’s in the last stages and requires full-time care. Very expensive care. That’s where my money goes. I can’t afford to lose my job. She’d have to be moved into the public system. I promised her when she was still well enough to understand I would never let that happen. She’s all I have. I won’t let her down. Not now.”

  “And you never told me this before. Why exactly?”

  “It’s my problem. I handle my problems myself. My way.” She took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the scents that lingered enticingly on the night air, knowing that with her next words she’d no doubt be damning herself in his opinion of her. Somehow she had to keep her promise to look after Andrea, no matter what. “Her disease is incurable, but there are things she could have to make her more comfortable. Things I can’t afford. I’ll agree to have this baby for you, on condition that you continue to pay me so I can cover Andrea’s fees.”

  Her words fell like lead pellets on a tin plate, and across the table Connor flinched. He leaned back in his chair, eyeing her as if she’d escaped from a lunatic asylum.

  “You’re kidding me, right? You want me to pay you, like some surrogate?” His tone implied he expected her to withdraw her words, but Holly wouldn’t take them back even if she’d wanted.

  She settled more comfortably in her chair, forcing her fingers to relax, to project an aura of calm. “I think I made myself clear.”

  A muscle worked on the side of his jaw. Clench, release. Clench, release. Holly knew she’d crossed some invisible line to a point of no return. If he’d had an ounce of respect left for her, she’d splintered it beyond redemption.

  “I can see why you’d want to help Andrea. But, Holly, you only had to ask me. I’m not a monster.”

  No, he wasn’t a monster, and that was the problem. She was the monster with her hazy past and unnatural feelings about motherhood. Holly felt trapped, vulnerable, exposed. “Well, like I said. I deal with my problems my way.” She fought to remain still in her seat. If she backed down on this, she was terrified she’d lose everything. “And while I’m on the subject of Andrea, if I agree to stay here, I’ll still need to see her regularly.”

  “Fine. I’ll see to it that Thompson takes you over to the city in the launch each day, weather permitting. I’ll even continue to pay your salary for as long as you’re here, with a lump-sum payout after the baby’s birth. Give me the details of Andrea’s hospital, too. I’ll make the necessary arrangements to take over her bills.”

  Relief flowed through her. With her income unencumbered by Andrea’s fees she’d be able to start the investigation into her background she’d always promised herself. After the baby was born maybe she’d even have enough saved to hire someone to find out who she really was, instead of stabbing around in the dark searching public records for any information.

  “So, is that everything tied up to your satisfaction? You’ll stay?” Connor interrupted her thoughts.

  She meticulously refolded her napkin and placed it back on the table, amazed that her fingers weren’t shaking. “Actually there’s one other thing.”

  “Really, just the one?” Sarcasm twisted his lips into an ugly line.

  “I want a written contract.” Holly lowered her hands to her lap and clenched her fingers together until they started to go numb.

  “A contract to have my baby. What? You think I’ll renege on the deal?”

  “That’s right.” Her mother had, after all, reneged on her. By whatever means possible, Holly would ensure that this baby had at least one parent that could continue to look after it.

  He sighed and closed his eyes briefly before opening them wide again and impaling her on the hot anger of his glare.

  “A contract to have my baby and then leave.”

  Leave? She hadn’t had a minute to even think that far ahead, but if that’s what it took … “Yes.” Her voice quavered.

  “To never have anything to do with the child again?”

  “Yes.” Her reply was nothing but a whisper on the sultry evening air.

  His expression changed to one of complete and utter disgust. Had she gone too far? Holly felt regret bloom in her chest; wasn’t she just as bad as her own mother? She ruthlessly quashed the thought as it gained momentum in her mind, reducing it back into that dark part deep inside where her hurts remained locked away. She wasn’t like her mother. She wasn’t abandoning her baby to the unknown. Connor and his family would love and cherish this child in ways she’d never known nor knew how to.

  “It’s a deal.” He sounded as though he’d aged twenty years in twenty minutes. “I’ll have the papers drawn up immediately.”

  She looked at him, seeing the man she’d secretly given her heart to—the man she’d given her innocence to—and saw a stranger. Holly inclined her head in acceptance and pushed her chair away from the table, rising onto surprisingly steady legs. She lifted her chin and raised all the composure she could find within her. “I’d like to go to bed now.”

  Connor’s chair scraped roughly across the tiled patio as he, too, rose from the table. “Follow me.”

  In silence Holly followed Connor inside the house. They passed through French doors into a vaulted-ceilinged room, the high walls lined with bookcases and a highly polished antique partner’s desk claimed pride of place on a vibrant, jewel-hued carpet. While modern office equipment, including the latest discreet flat-screen computer, proved this was a working office, there was an elegance and permanence about the fittings.

  Only the best adorned his house—his whole life in fact, she reminded herself as the sliver of ice slid deeper into her chest. The baby would want for nothing. She’d made the right choice.

  Holly, however, belonged here about as much as a speck of dust on the immaculately polished sideboard in the formal dining room. She was a castoff. Unwanted, unloved and definitely surplus to requirements once she’d completed her duties. But Andrea would be secure in the hospital. With the best of everything Connor Knight’s money could buy for as long as it still mattered.

  She barely noticed the rest of the house as they passed through a wide, carpeted hallway and through to a sweeping curve of stairs leading to the second floor. She gripped the satin-finished handrail as though it was a lifeline and dragged herself up the stairs in his wake.

  The master suite upstairs, which included a private sitting room to one side, overlooked the pool area. Someone, Thompson presumably, had dimmed the exterior lights so only the blue-black hue of the sky, littered with diamond bright stars, was now visible through the open deep bay windows. Filmy net filters, drawn back from the glass, drifted softly on an imperceptible breeze.

  The stark contrast of her position, having only the clothes on her back, to his immense wealth and privilege widened the gulf in her mind. Her love for Connor was even more futile now than ever before. Aside from producing his child what use could she possibly be to him once the pregnancy was over? It wasn’t as if they would be able to continue to work together. Not even she was that naive.

  They had nothing in common. Not background, not education, not position. Somehow she had to rediscover her dignity, her self-respect. Finding exactly how seemed about as insurmountable as her ability to scale Mt. Ruapehu in high heels and a corporate suit.

  Connor’s voice
interrupted her thoughts.

  “The bathroom’s through there, and beside it the wardrobe.” He gestured one arm across the spacious room to panelled doors on the other side. “We can gather your things tomorrow. Thompson will find space in the closet for you. Get some rest. You look shattered.” He took a step closer to her, his hand lifting to her face, one finger gently tracing her cheekbone, an unreadable expression locked in his eyes. Holly’s pulse jumped in her veins at the tenderness of his touch. She held her breath, too afraid to exhale in case it destroyed the insubstantial sense of intimacy between them. But the intimacy was as far from the real thing as a cubic zirconia from a Kimberly diamond. His hand dropped back down to his side, breaking the tenuous thread of closeness. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

  “You’re not coming to bed now, too?” The words blurted from her before she could think.

  “I have work to do.”

  Holly watched Connor go, feeling strangely lost until she reminded herself of her reasons for being here. Any hope she’d harboured that he might still want her in some way, no matter how minute, disintegrated in the face of the harsh reality. She was little more than a baby incubator for him.

  The room, huge compared to anywhere she’d slept before, was cavernous without him there to fill the massive space with his presence. She drifted across the floor to the window and looked out at the city twinkling far, far away in the distance.

  Weariness dragged desolately at every atom in her body, yet she couldn’t bring herself to pull away from the window. It was as if she’d lived a lifetime in one day. Had it only been this morning she’d arrived at work, determined to start the day fresh? She wrapped her arms around her torso in a futile effort to seek comfort from the helplessness that permeated her mind.

  Eventually, she wasn’t sure how much later, she made her way to the en suite bathroom. A folded white towelling robe had been placed on the large marble vanity next to feminine toiletries, obviously placed there for her use.

  Holly peeled away her clothing, letting it drop to the floor in a heap. She didn’t care if she had to wear it creased tomorrow. Right now, that was the least of her worries. She gave a longing glance at the deep oval spa bath, big enough for two. She hastily pushed aside the mental image of Connor and her bathing together and tried to quell the heated flush of desire that fought through her exhaustion and struck like an arrow of need from deep within her. It would be foolish to dream, or even imagine, such a thing would ever happen.

  Holly thrust open the glass panel door that opened to the shower and twisted the mixer on. Without even waiting for the water to heat she stepped inside the tiled stall and under the cascade of water. Finally she let go the wrenching emotion she’d held banked since Carmen had delivered the news of her pregnancy. The pulsing jets sluiced away her tears until she was empty and could cry no more.

  By the time Holly had dried herself and wrapped the soft terry cloth robe around her frame, all she craved was unconsciousness. She didn’t want to think anymore. She didn’t want to feel. Tomorrow would be soon enough to face her demons.

  Some time in the night a sound penetrated her sleep, rousing her enough to open her eyes.

  Connor.

  She’d left the drapes open, to give her some sense of contact with the familiarity of the city she’d left behind. Now she could see him clearly as he stood, framed in the window, naked. Her body clenched at the beauty of him as moonlight caressed his form. His muscles, like sculpted marble, were thrown in deeper definition by the silver light cast through the window.

  Holly squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn’t bear to look at him and not want to mould her fingers over each perfect line. To touch him as she’d always dreamed of doing. Yet she knew her hopes and desires were futile. He would no more welcome her attentions than he’d allow her the freedom to return to her house. She was ensnared by her own foolish love. A love that lay in tatters—barren of hope.

  She held her breath as she heard him move across the floor and slide in between the divinely soft and faintly scented cotton sheets. All her senses screamed to full alert as he moved across the wide expanse of no-man’s land in the centre of the bed, to where she’d curled up far on one side.

  His arm, hot and heavy, hooked around her, pulling her to him until, through the towelling robe, her back was infused with the hard heat of his body. She felt the tie at her waist slide loose and the fabric part as he gently pushed his hand past the cloth barrier to her skin.

  Her nipples tightened and tingled as his fingers stroked her, cupping the almost nonexistent curve of her belly as if cradling the new life that grew deep inside of her. He was aroused; she could feel the pressure of his erection cradled by her buttocks. Flames licked from her core, setting a hot throb of desire through her. Would he make love with her? Did he know she was awake? Wanting him? Feeling him want her? All she had to do was shift her hips and the short robe would ride a little further and she’d feel him against her.

  His hand at her stomach stilled. No longer stroking. Just there. She felt his body relax against hers and heard his breathing settle into a deep even rhythm. He was asleep?

  Her nerve endings shrieked their disbelief. Her body was on tormented full alert and he’d gone to sleep. It was another slap in the face. Emphatic proof that his interest lay in the baby, and only in the baby.

  Gently, then with a little more pressure, Holly tried to push his arm away from across her waist. His breathing didn’t alter but she felt the corded muscles in his arm bunch beneath her fingers as he pulled her harder against him.

  He wasn’t letting go. His strength should give her comfort. She tried to rationalise her fractured thoughts in an attempt to calm the need that spiralled in coils of tension throughout her body.

  Instead, pain carved to the depths of her soul—it wasn’t her he wanted.

  Nine

  Connor straightened his tie and slipped into his jacket. The rustle of the lining didn’t even disturb Holly as she lay sprawled across the bed.

  It was a week since she’d made her outrageous demands reducing herself to nothing but a surrogate bearing his child. A week since he’d learned he’d be a father and watched his child’s mother sign away all rights to her natural state. It had sickened him to his heart to see her do so. He’d given her every opportunity that night to argue for her position in their baby’s life. But she’d been almost thankful to accept the terms he’d stated, never believing for a minute that she would rescind all rights to him like that or that she’d be just as driven by money as his ex-wife had been.

  Once he’d discovered Holly’s financial problems were based in her obligations to Andrea, he’d relaxed a little on pressuring the investigator. The dearth of information had been frustrating, anyway. It was as if she’d been born at the age of fifteen, when she’d finally been placed with the family where she’d met Andrea.

  Connor reached out his hand and touched Holly lightly on the shoulder. “We have an appointment with an obstetrician this morning. It’s time you got up.”

  She sat upright, her disoriented state lending a charming dishevelment to her normally aloof air. Then the expression on her face, at first slightly puzzled, changed as her skin paled. Her eyes were deep-blue lakes in their sockets. She muffled a tiny moan of dismay behind fingers pressed to her mouth, and he watched, helpless, as she bolted for the bathroom. What had started as afternoon sickness, now dominated her whole day, and he worried incessantly that she wasn’t getting enough nutrition.

  Connor waited until he heard her rinse out her mouth at the basin a few minutes later. Frustration rippled through him. Every morning for the past four days had been the same, and he hadn’t the faintest idea of how to handle it. It galled him to feel so helpless.

  He hovered at the bathroom door. “We need to be ready to go in about forty-five minutes. Would you prefer to have breakfast upstairs?”

  In the mirror he watched Holly grit her teeth in staunch determination. “I’ll be okay. Ju
st give me a minute or two to get dressed.”

  She lifted her eyes from the highly polished chrome taps and met his stare in the huge bevelled mirror above the vanity. The angry flare of heat reflected there seared him like a brand. His gaze dropped. Bent, as she was over the basin, the generous neckline of her nightgown had fallen open, exposing one creamy swell of breast tipped with dusky rose.

  His libido, still stinging from the denial he’d rigorously implemented, clawed at his insides like a starving, roaring beast. His mouth dried and he felt his lips part, almost in remembrance of the night, just over two months ago now, when he’d tasted the intoxicating sweetness of her skin. He should move, say something, do something—anything but stand here, a helpless victim to the siren call of her body.

  She swayed slightly, and her knuckles whitened as she gripped tighter at the marble surface, as though that was the only thing holding her up. “Seen your fill for the morning?” she asked acerbically, lifting her chin and watching as his eyes flicked up to meet her angry stare in the mirror.

  “Be ready to leave on time.” He snapped, mad as hell that, like some hormone-driven teenager, he hadn’t been able to control his voyeuristic tendencies and in doing so he’d allowed her the upper hand.

  Connor stalked out of the bedroom suite. Holding her to him each night was sweet torture. His hands clenched into fists and unclenched again. As uncomfortable as it was proving to be, she had to remain hands off. He didn’t want to crave her like this. He would overcome the incessant desire she’d loosed in him, even if it took every last ounce of control he had left. Denial was nothing new in his life. It made him who he was.

  Connor pounded down the staircase and made his way to the breakfast room. His cell phone buzzed in his pocket and he frowned as he identified the number. Euminides Investigations.

  “Yeah,” he barked.

  “I thought you might like to know that your Miss Christmas has put a request into our office.”