by Olivia Logan
Drumbeats pounded around them. Or was that just the blood rushing through her ears? She wasn’t sure. All she knew was he was here.
“Why?” she asked, carrying on quickly at his raised eyebrow. “Let me be more specific. Why are you here?”
“You. I wanted to see you.” His quiet statement was like a kick in the gut. Not what she needed at 2:15 a.m. with little food and sleep.
“And you couldn’t have called in the past week? Instead you turn up at my work at two in the middle of the night.” She shook her head, hating the rise of emotion in her voice, hating that she sounded like the women she advised. She wasn’t in a relationship. Hell, they weren’t even friends!
“I came to tell you something. Then if you want, I will leave you alone,” he said softly, every trace of the haughty man who had first pulled up in his limo to take her on their first date now replaced by the solemn man in front of her. A man who looked like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.
“Fine. Say what you have to say, then go. I’m freezing and I want to get home.” To an empty house, an empty bed and memories of you that alternate between making me ache for you and making me wish you had never been born.
“The limo is warm. We’ll stay parked right here,” he said quickly. “Unless you want a ride home?” The teasing light from old sparked in his eyes, making her limbs weak and her mouth dry.
“Here is just fine,” she said, marching past him and yanking hard on the limo door. She was all kinds of a fool, but her head was swimming as the smell of mint cloaked her, pouring into every pore. Steel. Think steel, CJ. Cold, hard, unmoving steel.
Was it her or was this déjà vu? She shuffled further away from him as the seats dipped under his weight, the door clicking shut sending a rush of panic through her. Why had she agreed to talk to him? Other than the dates, this was quite possibly the stupidest thing she had ever done.
“You didn’t hear the rest of the conversation, did you?” His dark gaze bored into hers, sticking the cogs of her thought process together.
“Huh? What are you talking about?”
“The Stratton-Porter house party.”
“You have got to be kidding me! You drove out here at 2:00 a.m. to talk to me about that? Well no thank you. I am done with all of that, and if you think ...”
“What you think.” His barked words halted the flow of her tirade, and she sat straighter, refusing to cower under his command, arching an eyebrow at his small huff of impatience. “It’s what you think that matters to me, CJ and ... I am sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”
“I am sorry.” Three little words that she needed to have heard all those years ago. At the time, she would have had a sharp reply. Now she didn’t know what to say.
Swallowing back the lump in her throat, she nodded slowly, “I forgave you for that comment a long time ago. I’ve made peace with my past, truly. I just can’t go back.”
“Then let me explain, CJ, please.” He drew in a deep breath, the sound filling the empty space between them. “Something happened before the party. In fact, that was why I was there. You met my mom, so it won’t come as a surprise to you to know she wasn’t that caring. My dad either, but I preferred staying in New York with him. My parents divorced soon after I was born. My dad viewed marriages like he did property. Keep moving to the next one.
“I’m not going to lie. I’ve been no angel and women came easy and early to me. When I was eighteen, my dad married a much younger woman, Lulu Benton, who wasn’t yet thirty. Brice had moved away, and although the estate was big, she would always stop by my wing of the house. She was as polite as any of his other wives. Flirty, but that didn’t bother me. I didn’t know she wanted me out at any cost. It got a little suffocating as I got older, especially when I was home from college for the holidays, but my dad was working all hours so she’d find more reasons to hang around me.
“When I was twenty, a few weeks before the party, my dad barged into my room screaming about how I’d abused his trust, that I was no son of his. I had no idea what the hell he was talking about until she came in saying I’d tried to seduce her, and when that didn’t work, I’d attacked her.”
CJ whacked a hand over her mouth to stifle the gasp. How could someone believe that about their own child? She thought her parents were bad, but they were nothing compared to this.
“She was nothing but a gold digger who had lied to my dad about who she was and where she came from. A fact he discovered only long after we stopped talking and which led to their divorce. But by then it was too late for us. He chucked me out, and with only the money Brice lent me, I crossed the pond to my mom, transferring to Prince’s University here. I chose to live here after I graduated, working in secret as a private business advisor for Sal’s as well as helping my brother with Harper Inc. That’s something the press never knew. As far as they are concerned, I partied all night and slept all day. But your family’s garden party was the first and last time I let myself ever get that drunk. Did you know I was chucked out of the party? I wasn’t exactly my charming self that day to any woman there, you included. I was wrong, CJ. You aren’t a duck or a swan. You are a beautiful, unique bird of paradise that has no place in a lake at all.”
Jack’s eyes were dark, tortured. Her heart pounded at his thick tone.
“I have something else to tell you, too.” Her body froze into place as his eyes held hers in a hypnotic gaze.
“Oh?” The froglike sound from her throat made her cringe, and she cleared it quickly, trying again. “Oh? What’s that?”
“Nasser offered me the deal but ... I turned it down.”
The buzzing in her ears from earlier throbbed through her head, and she clasped her bag tightly between her fingers. Surely she wasn’t hearing correctly.
“You turned it down? But ... but...” She paused, corralling her butterfly thoughts. “Wait, so he did give it to you. That means you must have got the note I left.”
A small muscle twitched in his jaw and she swiveled in her seat to face him fully. “Yes, I got the note, but I didn’t read it. I understood why you left ,CJ; I didn’t need to see it in black and white.”
“This is turning out to be a completely random evening, so let’s start again,” she said, inhaling softly, trying hard to maintain her equilibrium. “I wrote you a letter telling you the hinge factor the two men were talking about. What letter are you talking about? Unless you thought I would write you a ‘Dear John’?” Typical. Just like a man to misunderstand a simple note. “But if you didn’t read it, then how did you swing the deal?”
“You.” His one-word answer flummoxed her into silence. “I didn’t read your letter. I spoke to Nasser, and he told me that for him, it was all about family and love, not money. He could tell from the way I left the dinner to take you back to the hotel, all that mattered to me was you. The only problem was, I was too much of a fool to realise it myself. I love you, CJ Stratt. You are all that matters to me.” His voice was quiet, steady, determined and sure.
He loved her.
Thank god she was sitting down. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t think.
He loved her. Jack Harper loved her. Jack Harper loved her. He loved her.
Her heart flip flopped at his lopsided grin, his dimples making a subtle appearance, his eyes shining with love. For her.
She started at the sound of his cough, blinking rapidly back at him. “CJ, I know I’m kind of new to this and you’re the expert, but don’t you usually have to say something back after a declaration like that? Something, anything?” The uncertainty in his eyes belied his lighthearted tone.
“As a matter of fact, yes, I do have something to say. Something I have wanted to say for a long time, and that is thank you. Without you, it would have taken me longer to grow those wings I needed to get the hell out of my parents’ world.” She kept her gaze sure and steady on his, biting down hard on her lower lip and the smile forming at the stunned look of confusion on his face.
“Yes and ... and did I mention that I love you, too?” She couldn’t keep the smile from her face any longer. His low growl as he reached across the small gap sent volcanic heat rushing through her as his lips descended across hers, hungry, demanding, loving. All those things and more, she had been waiting for.
“My next shift doesn’t start till tomorrow evening,” she murmured against his lips when they finally pulled back for air, shivers coursing down her spine. “We never did finish those dates.”
“True. But what I have in mind runs longer than a series of dates.” His five o’clock shadow tickled her chin as his lips moved over hers with a feather lightness.
“Oh?” The breathy question was all she could manage.
“Mmmm. I have in mind something with a much longer-term goal. Much, much longer.”
More from This Author
(From Urgent: One Nanny Required by Olivia Logan)
She wasn’t sure if it was the unexpected “Excuse me” from the other side of the door or the worn surface of the “Welcome to Belle’s Sweets” mat that made her slip, but within seconds Rania George went one way as the mat went the other and she fell with a hard thud on her butt. Dazed, she found herself looking up into a pair of worried brown eyes. If the boy thought it odd she was now on the floor with her legs askew, he was too polite to mention it.
“Are you closed?” His voice was barely audible over the icy British February wind.
Pushing herself up, she pointed to the faded “Closed” sign at the front, “I’m afraid we shut early today.” The oddest feeling of déjà vu settled over her as she saw his shoulders slump and the ash blond hair fall forward as he nodded slowly before turning to walk away. A small winged eagle badge on the oversized black blazer came into view. She recognized him. He was the same kid who hovered outside the shop window every day after school with a harassed woman in tow. She swung the door wide as the rusty bolt gave way without a fuss. He paused, turning around, eyes downcast.
“Hey. Aren’t you a bit young to be out when it’s this late? And where is the lady that is normally with you?” she asked, her eyes combing up and down the street.
“She is my babysitter. And I don’t like that one,” came the sorrowful reply, lower lip coming forward and beginning to tremble. “Besides, I’m old enough. I’m eight.”
Her stomach flip-flopped at the words “that one.” Memories she had thought long buried came back in waves. Images of countless babysitters for those times her mother went out chasing her dream flashed before her. Angry tears burned behind her eyes and she blinked them away rapidly. “You shouldn’t be out on your own when it is so dark. Come in and we’ll give your house a call to let them know where you are,” she said, moving aside as he practically ran in, wandering from sweet jar to sweet jar, eyes agog at the variety.
Bolting the door, she gently moved him aside as she squeezed through the narrow aisle.
“Right, little man, what’s your home number?” She picked up the banana handset ready to give whoever answered a piece of her mind on child safety.
He shrugged as he stared at a large jar of fizzy cola bottles. “Can’t remember. But my dad said I can get my own phone when I’m ten.” Rania rolled her eyes heavenward. This seriously couldn’t be happening. “Well, how about … ”
She jumped as a sharp bang on the glass brought her planning to an end as a dark shadow loomed large and ominous outside; the shop’s dim light ineffective against the wintery darkness.
“Hello. Can I help you?” she called out, simultaneously replacing the receiver while handing a paper bag to the boy whose small hands had started to make their way into an open box of chewy caramels.
“I believe you have my son,” growled an angry masculine voice from the other side.
“Dad!” came the high-pitched exclamation, a paper bag hitting the floor as the boy rushed toward the door.
“Hang on a sec, kid.” She reached past him to pop the lock, sidestepping quickly as a tall, blond man strode through, tie askew, top button undone. The fading smell of his aftershave engulfed her senses as he moved past.
“Theo! Thank God! There you are!” he exclaimed, swooping his son up into a bear hug and whirling him around. Interestingly, despite the February chill he wasn’t wearing a jacket, giving Rania a full view of muscular forearms under the rolled up gray shirt.
“I’ve been worried sick about you! What were you thinking, running away from Lena again?”
“I wanted to go the sweet shop. This is Belle. It’s her sweet shop,” came the grinning unrepentant reply accompanied by a small grubby finger being pointed in her direction.
The initial feeling of annoyance at being ignored when he first arrived gave way to slight panic as ice blue eyes glued her to the spot. Nope, not just ice blue. They were glacial blue. A striking addition to the chiseled jaw and straight Roman nose.
“How did you know where I was?” asked the young Houdini, smile still firmly in place.
“Newton’s not the biggest village and Lena told me you liked coming here every day after school. Where else would I look?” The patient response was a clear sign this wasn’t the first time this had happened. “Why don’t you go and have a look around the shop. I would like to talk to Belle for a minute,” he said, gently setting his son down and ruffling the floppy hair.
“Theo, there is another paper bag on the counter. You can help yourself to some sweets. That is, if your dad doesn’t mind?” she called after him.
Solemn brown eyes looked up into blue ones and Rania could swear the kid could have given Bambi a run for his money when it came to the eye thing. Within seconds, a slow smile broke out on Theo Senior’s face, causing the corners of his eyes to crinkle and the glacial blue to melt to the color of a stream on a summer’s day.
Damn he was handsome, Rania thought, while she tried to focus more on the fact that he was probably going to cross-examine her on how his son came to be in her shop at this time of night.
Watching the blond hair scamper away, she turned slowly, disconcerted to find that at only five feet three she came up to the middle of his chest. Having to look up at people was nothing new, but talking to one that resembled an Adonis was a first.
“Ms. Belle … … ” the smooth voice began, goose bumps already beginning to shimmer their way up and down her arms.
Shaking herself out of her revere, she held a hand up, “It’s not Ms … ”
“My mistake. Mrs. Belle, then.”
She narrowed her eyes at the cool correction and straightened up to her full height. Not that made much difference as her gaze collided with the patterns of his tie laying crumpled against his chest. He might be Adonis material but he was still just a man.
“Actually, Mr. Theo’s dad, it’s neither Mrs. nor Belle. It’s Miss. Miss Rania George,” she said, her voice sharp, and her chin raised in defiance.
She was not prepared for the snort of derisive laughter that followed nor the way she was thrown off balance by said snort.
Damn the man. Stay focused. This was how it always started, and reminding herself of how many times she had seen the result of acting on such feelings from her mother, she was determined to stop them.
“Apologies, Miss George. No insult meant. I just wanted to thank you for looking after my son during his hiatus from his nanny,” he said gravely. “Unfortunately, the nature of my work keeps me … ”
“From being an observant parent?”
“I beg your pardon?” The softly whispered question belied the dangerous narrowing of his eyes.
“Look, it may not be my place to say, Mr. Theo’s dad … ”
“Nick. Nicholas Trenton. That’s my name. Since you are so hot on having the correct name, maybe it would be a good idea for you to start using mine,” the hard voice interrupted her.
“Right, sure. Anyway, the fact is, letting your child wander around when it is pitch black outside on the street
s at the age of eight is not appropriate.” Her hands spread wide to emphasize the absurdity of the situation.
“Firstly, Miss George, I did not let my son wander around at night and secondly, neither did I lose him. He ran away from the nanny that I hired to look after him.” His clipped tone did nothing to distract her from staring at the small dimple that appeared in his right cheek when he talked. “Furthermore, I clearly did know where my child was, as I am here now to pick him up.”
They looked around at the blond Houdini who had begun prodding at a heart-shaped chocolate. Her Valentine’s Day best seller.
Whipping her head back around to face him, she found his penetrating gaze fixed on her. She really should remember the staring technique next time she had problems with contractors. It was certainly making her legs feel funny.
“I thought his nanny told you where he was?” she reminded him, pleased to see him visibly stiffen at the connotation of that statement.
“She did, but he talks about this place all the time. I may have a job that keeps me away from home for long stretches, Miss George, but that doesn’t stop me from talking to my son.”
She could sense she’d touched a nerve. A nerve that he seemed to have previously berated himself for without her help and she suddenly felt herself softening toward him.
She gave herself a mental shake. Job or no job, the fact remained his son still appeared in front of her shop on a cold dark night sans adult. Why was she even getting involved; this was not her problem. A picture of his son came back to her, lower lip pouting and trembling, gradually beginning to merge with a mental image of herself at that age waiting yet again for her mother to come back from one of her trips.
“Yes, of course, your busy job. And your wife. Theo’s mum. Also in a busy job, I assume?” She couldn’t have stopped the sarcastic tone even if she’d tried. Clearly, she hadn’t outgrown her childhood flaw of sticking her nose in where it didn’t belong.
“Didn’t anyone ever tell you to not to assume anything, Miss George? It makes an ass-of-u-and-me,” he mocked. His patrician features were as set and hard as the glacial blue of his eyes. “Theo’s mother is dead. She died when he was a baby; hence the nannies.”