Bound by the Unborn Baby

by Bella Bucannon

  He slid one arm around her waist; saw apprehension cloud her eyes.

  ‘We’ll let people assume we were lovers...they’ll believe I’m the father.’ He skimmed his fingertips lightly across her cheek, murmured softly as he lowered his head. ‘A man and a woman who’ve made a baby should at least act as if they’ve kissed.’

  He covered her mouth with his, giving her no chance to thwart him. And his barely restrained libido ran riot. His arousal was swift, unstoppable. Tangling his fingers in her silken curls, he anchored her head while desperately fighting the urge to deepen the kiss.

  Willing her lowered eyelids to open, he moved his lips over hers. Pressed a little harder. Her soft lips tasted sweet. Didn’t respond.

  Nice one, James. Great way to gain her cooperation and trust.

  Did he imagine the light tremor under his hands? The tiniest motion of her lips? He eased away. Her eyelids fluttered, opened. His breakneck pulse cranked up another notch at the bemusement in her incredible violet eyes. Lord, he ached to have her even closer, moulded to his hardened form.

  Worst idea ever.

  He shifted, let his hand slide over her shoulder, down her arm. ‘We’ll work on it.’

  She eyed him with suspicion as she pulled away. ‘Yeah, like you need the practice.’

  Her offhand comment might have succeeded, if not for its delightful breathless timbre. Deny it all she liked, she’d been affected by his kiss. He rubbed his nape, wishing he could dive into the clear cool water behind him. A few laps fully clothed might diminish his ardour and help regain his sanity. Instead he had another trip in an enclosed car with her by his side. With that too-strong, not-for-her perfume assailing his senses.

  With supreme effort he brought the conversation back to household routine. ‘The pool is cleaned regularly. The apartment is serviced Monday, Wednesday and Friday mornings. They process any dry cleaning I leave on the kitchen island.’

  She looked dazed for a second, then welcomed his change of topic. ‘You have security. How do I enter and leave?’

  ‘I’ve ordered another key card. You can have my spare.’ He checked his watch. ‘Time to go. Can you be ready in ten minutes?’

  * * *

  Alina wasn’t surprised when they were escorted to an exclusive room on the fourth floor above a renowned jewellery store. Entrance to the secure area was gained by virtue of a buzzer and intercom system.

  Ethan moved one of the four seats closer to hers, giving the impression of an attentive fiancé. She berated herself for tensing. How could they fool anyone into believing they were a couple?

  An elegant, bespectacled man entered, offering congratulations as he placed two ring trays in front of them, another at the end of the cloth-covered table. Alina stared, stunned. Her body involuntarily tried to put distance between her and the brilliant array. The strong arm around her shoulders tightened as if Ethan sensed her agitation.

  Dazzling gems in a myriad of colours and settings sparkled and gleamed. Too flashy for her...too many to choose from. There was no comparison to the small diamond in a heart setting that she’d chosen and been kissed over so long ago.

  Don’t think. Don’t remember. This has nothing to do with reality and emotion.

  Quiet words were spoken. The jeweller left with the two trays. He returned with a less ostentatious selection. She still couldn’t choose, couldn’t bring herself to touch.

  Ethan caressed her cheek with his knuckles. ‘Too much choice, sweetheart? May I?’

  Noting his endearment, knowing it was for the benefit of their attendant, she managed a fleeting smile and leant back. She didn’t dare speak in case the pain showed in her voice.

  Without hesitation he selected an oval amethyst surrounded by tiny diamonds set in gold. Elegant, not showy. Her finger trembled as he guided it on, holding it firmly to stop it sliding off.

  Raising her hand, he pressed his lips to her fingers. ‘Perfect. Beautiful. You.’ He kissed her gently.

  She knew this was purely for show, knew she had a part to play. So she did what she’d struggled against by the pool. She returned his kiss.

  Her heartbeat accelerated. Her body quivered. His hold tightened, his lips firmed. Her fingers crept up his neck, teasing the ends of his hair. She felt giddy, breathless. Cherished.

  Until her stomach knotted and fear replaced the floating sensation. Heat flooded her cheeks; she broke away and bent her head to his chest.

  Ethan framed her face with his hands, forced her to meet his gaze. Her warm blush was gratifying. Coupled with the soft glow in her violet eyes, it gave an idyllic image of a newly engaged woman.

  His own feelings were elusive, and he had no inclination to analyse them here. They were new, overwhelming—might be caused by any one of the upheavals in his life.

  He placed the ring to one side, before swapping the tray for the one at the end of the table. ‘Do you prefer a plain or patterned wedding band?’

  He’d bet odds that the cross-cut patterned ring she chose was very different from the one she’d worn years ago—not the plain one she’d removed since yesterday. He selected a matching, broader one, then spoke to the jeweller.

  ‘Mine fits. Alina’s need to be resized.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  THEIR NEXT STOP, within walking distance, was his communications supplier. Somehow the end result was a new mobile for Alina with her account bundled with his. Ethan James had a charming way of overruling objections, leaving you feeling as if you’d done him a favour.

  Like the way he’d cajoled her into an exclusive perfumery store after claiming that he’d noticed her spray bottle was nearly empty. When had that happened? Well aware that the one she wore, a Christmas gift, was too strong for her; she was delighted with the new delicate spring fragrance. She’d been aware of the surreptitious looks he’d exchanged with the assistant. What else was he planning?

  The arrangements, phone calls, et cetera had all taken time and effort, yet he made it seem simple. To him it was. Decisions were made. Actions followed. Tangible proof of the attributes that had ensured his phenomenal success. Skill and diplomacy would ensure the optimum outcome: a healthy son or daughter.

  On their way back to the apartment the car pulled in to the kerb and Ethan unclicked his seatbelt. ‘Won’t be long.’

  He hopped out and the driver moved off. One lap of the block found him waiting to be picked up, now carrying two plastic bags containing rectangular objects with a delicious exotic aroma.

  He laughed at her puzzled stare. ‘Thai takeaway. Best in town.’

  ‘But...’ Of course—the call he’d made while the salesgirl had been demonstrating functions on her new phone.

  ‘Nothing hot or spicy. And what we don’t finish tonight we’ll have tomorrow. I’ve had many a breakfast of reheated Asian food.’

  So had she—more from the need to stretch a budget than for pleasure. She laughed as her stomach rumbled. ‘I’m hungrier than I thought. Thank you for remembering about the spicy.’

  ‘I remember everything you’ve told me, Alina.’

  His eyes caught hers, held her spellbound. She fought to break the hold, had to stay detached. Letting him in was a risk with too high a cost.

  * * *

  She was happy when he opted to eat in the lounge, claiming casual dining made takeaway taste better. Watching television would provide a break from personal questions and conversation.

  At his request she carried two glasses and a carafe of iced water into the lounge, while he brought china, cutlery and the food.

  ‘Tonight it’s your choice—apart from reality shows,’ he remarked, scooping special fried rice onto two plates.

  ‘I haven’t watched much at all these last few years. Hey, not too much on mine.’ She stilled his hand, preventing him from overloading the s
econd plate. ‘The news is fine by me.’

  During the ad breaks they discussed the events of the day—small talk which gave her invaluable insight into the man she’d committed her immediate future to. He wasn’t as complimentary about the present government as she’d expected, and spoke sympathetically about lower income earners.

  The latter didn’t surprise her; she’d experienced his attitude to shop assistants and his own hotel staff. He did surprise her when he patiently explained the intricacies of a technology breakthrough. So she chose a documentary next, figuring it would interest him, knowing she’d like it too. His avid interest in the excavation of an ancient English church which had revealed a former king’s remains proved her right.

  Ethan’s attention strayed during the advertising breaks. Alina would have plenty of time to watch anything she liked in the coming months. It suddenly occurred to him that she’d need something to occupy the hours while he was working. Even if she did sign up for a course or two.

  How many people in Sydney had she kept in touch with? Was there anyone she’d confided in? He couldn’t imagine how he’d have got through his teens, resisting his parents’ expectations, without Leon to confide in. Even Louise, five years younger and flighty as a cuckoo fledgling, had listened and supported him.

  Alina had stayed away from Australia. Did that mean there were no close friends here? It was obvious that she carried a deep-seated torment inside. Damn, he knew so little about her, but he couldn’t bring himself to push too much. He was supposed to be good with people. If he earned her trust maybe she’d confide in him. When he knew the details he was convinced he’d be able to find a way to ease her pain.

  Alina stretched as the final credits rolled, then carried their plates to the dishwasher. Ethan followed with the glassware and caught her yawning.

  ‘Ready for an early night? It’s been a full-on day for you.’ Sympathy showed in his eyes, warmth in his tender expression.

  A restful soak in the bath with an intrigue novel appealed more than bed. Did that seem rude? As if she wanted to get away from him?

  As if sensing her confusion, he gently took her in his arms, hugged her and let her go.

  ‘Goodnight, Alina. Thank you for being so cooperative. I know it wasn’t easy. Sleep well.’

  ‘I survived. Goodnight.’ She walked away.

  ‘Alina?’

  She turned at the doorway.

  ‘I swear I’ll take care of you and our child. Believe me?’

  She looked into sincere blue eyes and her doubts subsided. ‘Yes, I do.’

  This time he didn’t stop her, and went back to the lounge. Trying to read reports was a futile exercise. A few strides along the hall was a beautiful woman who stirred him as no one ever had. A woman whose soul-destroying sorrow influenced every decision she made.

  Today she’d begun to react naturally—the way he needed her to if they were to convince everyone they’d been lovers. Their supposed affair might have been short, but their mutual attraction had to be evident. On his part it was becoming less of a pretence every time she was near. And from her tentative responses he suspected her buried feelings were beginning to emerge.

  * * *

  Ten past nine. Past morning rush hour. Alina leant on the island, checking her notepad, and glanced down at her well-worn jeans. Added two items to her list. She drank her ice-cold juice, scrunched her nose. Pushed the credit card Ethan had given her in a circle on the granite. Having it didn’t mean using it.

  He’d knocked on her door early this morning to tell her he was going to his office. Drowsy, needing to use the bathroom, she’d barely acknowledged his remarks. When he’d leaned in to brush her hair from her eyes, his unique smell and the touch of his fingertips had blown her lethargy away, leaving her wide-awake, tingling.

  She dropped the pen. This was ridiculous. What could be simpler than writing a list of clothes and accessories to be worn by the wife of a hotshot billionaire? Or was he even richer? Any woman he dated would have no problem filling the page. But she was a nomad, with a meagre pile of cheap, easy-care clothing. Her serviceable underwear would never grace a magazine page or stir a man’s libido.

  Hey, what was she thinking?

  Focus. You only have to buy enough to be presentable for a few weeks.

  As she put on weight she’d have to shop again. More expense.

  For a second her mind flashed to the investment account. Another buried secret.

  * * *

  Sometime after twelve she sank wearily into a window seat of a busy café. Two bags containing the pathetic results of her attempted retail therapy took the chair beside her. This was hopeless. She’d chickened out every time she’d tried to enter any of the high-fashion boutiques she’d found. Embarrassing Ethan in clothes from the stores she normally frequented wasn’t an option. At this rate she’d be in track pants and baggy jumpers right through autumn.

  She needed help...didn’t know who to ask. She was used to working; now she had all day with nothing to do. Or did she? She’d meant her reference to taking courses as a joke, but now she deemed them a plausible time-filler.

  As the waitress walked past, carrying two plates of fish and chips, another idea popped into her head. Taking out her notepad, she began a new list, pushing it aside when her order arrived.

  Indulging in a gooey cream-filled pastry didn’t solve her wardrobe problem but it tasted good. Drinking Viennese hot chocolate while writing the final items lifted her spirits. Surely he’d give her plenty of notice before expecting her to meet his friends or accompany him to functions?

  * * *

  Ethan sniffed appreciatively as he entered the apartment—later than he’d intended due to an impromptu meeting with his second-in-command. The sooner he implemented the new changes in his workload, the better.

  It was a surprise to find the table set for two, even though he’d called, asking her to order dinner from the hotel. There was a bowl of fresh garden salad in the centre, and a bottle of Shiraz waiting to be opened. His home was warm and welcoming—a pleasurable new experience. He shed the trials of his day and moved forward.

  ‘Mmm, smells good. Mushroom sauce, if I’m not mistaken.’

  ‘Hi.’ Alina came around the island, carrying water and glasses. ‘Dinner will be ready by the time you wash up.’

  Placing his laptop on the end of the table, he moved nearer, breathed in flowers and sunshine—perfect for her, enthralling for him. If this were real...

  It wasn’t.

  This morning she’d been dreamy-eyed, and he’d come close to kissing her. He hadn’t thought, had merely acted, something he’d need to curb if they were to build a trusting relationship.

  ‘Give me five minutes.’

  Alina arranged steak with foil-wrapped baked potatoes on warmed plates, placed hot crusty rolls in a serviette-lined basket. Smiled with satisfaction. Everything looked appetising, hopefully tasted as good. If she could convince him to let her cook and clean she’d feel so much better about their arrangement. Support for the child was one thing—her being totally dependent on him another.

  No way was she going to compete with his qualified chefs. She’d serve recipes she felt capable of, even if they weren’t gourmet standard. The cookbook she’d bought was for inspiration.

  Ethan had already poured his glass of wine when she set down his plate, along with the gravy boat. When she returned with her meal he was waiting by her chair, studying his food across the table. She held her breath while he took his seat.

  The sparkle in his eyes when they met hers was unnerving. ‘This didn’t come from my hotel kitchen, did it?’

  ‘No.’ She broke eye contact, her heart sinking. Took a sip of water. If the difference was so obvious she’d already lost.

  ‘Hmm...’ He poured gravy, put sour cream on his pota
to and began to eat.

  Her breath caught behind the lump in her throat. Her whole body felt primed for his reaction. She so wanted his approval.

  ‘It’s good.’ His smile caused her lungs to deflate, the lump to dissolve.

  ‘Not what you’re used to?’

  ‘Better.’

  She bristled. She didn’t need or want pseudo-compliments. ‘You don’t have to butter me up. I know there’s no comparison.’

  ‘I promise I will always tell you the truth, Alina. Since the accident I’ve ordered meals. They came. I ate often while still working, usually too focused on facts and figures to taste or enjoy it. At home I lived in a void. My way of blocking out the grief, I guess.’

  That she understood. ‘And I made it worse with my bombshell.’

  ‘No—no way.’ He dropped his knife, reached across and took her hand. ‘It was as if nothing had real purpose. I avoided thinking about Louise and Leon because then I’d have to accept they were never coming back. I hated knowing I should have been there for them much more than I was.’

  She laid her free hand on top of his, subconsciously acknowledging its male texture.

  ‘You felt guilty? Oh, Ethan, there was never, ever, in any conversation I had with them, the slightest hint that you had been anything but a loving and supportive brother and friend. One who’d be there for them in a heartbeat if they needed you. I don’t know why they kept their problem a secret. Maybe because shielding those you love from worry goes both ways.’

  ‘Maybe. I keep wondering if there was anything else I could have done for them. All I know is that you’ve given my life meaning again. I wake in the morning knowing my sister and best friend aren’t completely lost to me. I feel—’

  He broke off, slowly withdrew his hand, as if unsure of revealing too much emotion.

  ‘Best we eat while it’s hot. What other culinary delights do you have planned?’ He helped himself to a serving of salad.

  ‘You mean it? You’ll really need more than one meal to make a sound judgement.’