by Lucy King
‘Bridgeman doesn’t believe in working on Sundays.’
‘Extraordinary.’
‘Isn’t it?’ he said, responding to her faint smile with one of his own before he could prevent it. ‘The final meetings will take place on Monday.’
‘After which you’ll know.’
‘Precisely.’
‘What’s so special about this particular company?’
‘It’s up for sale.’
‘But there must be hundreds of companies up for sale.’
‘Not of this size.’
‘What are you going to do with it if you get it?’
‘When I get it,’ he corrected, ‘the majority of it will be absorbed into the Knox Group and the rest will continue to operate independently.’
‘Isn’t your company big enough already?’
‘No,’ he said bluntly. ‘Not nearly.’
‘What can you possibly have left to prove?’
‘Everything.’
She seemed to have nothing to say to that but her eyes didn’t leave his. They merely narrowed slightly, as if she were pondering some enormous conundrum, which for some reason made him feel as if he were sitting on knives.
‘What?’ he asked, irritated by the way his body was instinctively reacting to her scrutiny.
‘I was just wondering how on earth you and my brother were ever friends.’
He froze, her words cutting right through his discomfort, obliterating the heat and filling him with icy numbness. ‘We weren’t. We were acquaintances.’
‘Oh? I got the impression you were friends. But I guess acquaintances makes more sense.’
‘In what way?’
‘Well, you’re not at all alike. I mean, Mike was ambitious, sure, but you’re on another level entirely. He lacked your killer instinct. He had lines. How on earth did you meet?’
‘At the boxing club.’
She flashed him a sudden triumphant smile and for a moment he forgot how to breathe. ‘Aha! So you do have a hobby.’
‘I wouldn’t call it a hobby,’ he said, willing his thundering pulse to slow. ‘More a means of keeping in shape.’
‘Are you good at it?’
‘Yes.’ He’d had plenty of practice.
Her smile turned rueful. ‘Mike wasn’t.’
‘No.’
‘Did you box each other?’
‘Only once.’
‘Who won?’
‘No one.’
‘How come?’
‘I collapsed.’
Her eyes widened. ‘What happened?’
‘I’d taken a blow to the ribs the week before. I hadn’t given it any more thought but then when I was in the ring with Mike, my spleen ruptured. He got me to hospital. He saved my life.’ Hence the debt that he should not have taken so long to pay back.
‘I had no idea.’
‘It wasn’t something I wanted publicised.’ The incident had rendered him weak, vulnerable, and had his competitors got wind of it they would have pounced within minutes.
‘Are you all right now?’
‘Yes.’ Physically, at least.
‘So what happened then?’
‘Once I’d recovered we went for a drink. It became a regular thing.’
She nodded as if in understanding. ‘An escape.’
‘Yes. He was under a lot of stress.’
‘I meant for you.’
‘I have nothing to escape from,’ he said, ruthlessly blotting out the great neon sign in his head that was flashing the word ‘liar’ at him.
Her eyebrows lifted. ‘Not even work?’
‘Not even that.’
‘Hmm. So you knew what was going on with him?’
‘Some of it.’
‘Me, too.’ Her cornflower-blue eyes filled with momentary sadness, and his chest tightened. ‘I wish I’d known more, though. But he didn’t once complain, not even when he had to leave university to come and look after me and Milly, and then find the money to move my sister when it became apparent she wasn’t being looked after well.’
‘What happened?’
‘Nothing that awful. It was mainly little things. Cleanliness. The food. The size of the rooms. And then it became apparent that the staff—not exactly the warmest of people—were quick to medicate. Easier to manage the more unpredictable patients that way, I suppose. Fairview is about as different a place as it’s possible to imagine. There’s more space, outside as well as inside. The staff care. Milly moved just as soon as we could sort it. She’s happy there, and well cared for.’
‘She will have whatever she needs, Kate.’
‘Thank you.’ She paused. Then said with a sigh, ‘I never appreciated the stress Mike must have been under. He worked day and night. We shared the day-to-day stuff, but financially he bore full responsibility. When he lost his job I wish he’d said something. He didn’t have to carry the burden alone. I don’t know how I didn’t know, especially since he was living with me. I guess I didn’t ask. He said he’d resigned to set up his own business and that he’d given up his flat to put the money into it and I just accepted it. But none of that was true.’
Theo frowned. ‘No.’
‘I feel so guilty.’
‘If anyone is to feel guilty,’ he said, unable to let her think she was in any way to blame and suddenly burning up with the need to confess and in some small way to atone for what he’d let happen, ‘it’s me.’
‘Why?’
‘His death was partly my fault.’
She stared at him in shock. ‘What on earth are you talking about? He had an aneurysm. It was sitting there in his brain like a ticking time bomb. How could that possibly have been your fault?’
‘I could have done more to help. To remove the stress. I should have insisted.’
‘He had his pride. And he was stubborn.’
‘That’s no excuse.’ And it wasn’t because hadn’t he already discovered what happened if he turned his back on someone who needed his help whether they wanted it or not? Hadn’t his mother been enough? How many more people were to suffer before he learned? Whatever she chose to think he’d robbed Kate and her sister of their brother and he’d never forgive himself. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘There’s really nothing to be sorry for,’ she said. ‘Truly. Did you know about the loans?’
‘No.’
‘Neither did I.’
‘But I could have done,’ he said bleakly. ‘I should have done.’
‘How?’
‘A couple of weeks before he died, Mike mentioned he had something he wanted to discuss. I put him off.’ He stopped and frowned, remembering how he’d instinctively kept the man at arm’s length despite the huge debt he owed him. ‘I regret that.’
‘You came to the funeral.’
‘It was the least I could do.’
She tilted her head, her gaze practically searing into his. ‘Do you remember me suggesting a drink afterwards?’
He frowned. ‘No.’
‘You took it as a come-on.’
‘Did I?’
‘You did. And you said you weren’t interested. But it wasn’t an invitation at all. I just wanted to chat to you about my brother.’
‘I apologise,’ he muttered, now recalling how Kate’s grief had been too great for his guilt to handle and how in response he’d shut down, operating on automatic. ‘It was a tough afternoon.’
‘You’re telling me.’
‘How are you dealing with it?’
She bit her lip. ‘I’m getting there. Most days I’m okay, but every now and then it hits me like a bolt from the blue. You’d think I’d be used to it by now. The grief, I mean. It’s not as if I’m a stranger to it. I’ve lost more than most people do in a lifetime. Yet it still gets me right here.�
�� She pressed her hand to her heart and rubbed. ‘But there’s nothing I can do about it. I can’t change anything. So I have to just get on with it.’ She tilted her head and regarded him thoughtfully. ‘I do think, though, that if he’d lived, Mike would have been a good friend to you.’
The vice that had gripped Theo’s chest in response to her suffering tightened. What could he say to that? He could hardly admit that he’d never have let things get that far. That the damage caused by his mother’s rejection was irreversible and that the traces of it still affected the way he viewed every single person he met. ‘Perhaps.’
‘What are your other friends like?’
Non-existent. Which was fine with him. He didn’t want or need friends. He was better off alone. Always. More importantly, other people were better off if things were that way. And this conversation was over.
‘Quiet,’ he said bluntly. ‘Unobtrusive. They don’t ask questions and they let me get on with my work.’
‘Ah. Right,’ she said with the flash of a grin that hit him square in the gut. ‘Point taken. I’ll leave you to it.’
* * *
They landed at Linate Airport mid-afternoon and the minute she stepped off the plane, Kate felt as if she could once again breathe, despite the thirty-degree heat.
How hard it had been to focus on her book when her attention kept wandering, her gaze drifting over to where Theo was sitting, head down, his brow furrowed in concentration as he worked at his laptop. How hard it had been not to think about the suite at the back of the plane with its enormous bed just begging to be rumpled. And then there’d been the urge to strike up the conversation again, which had been so insistent that her jaw ached with the effort of keeping her mouth shut.
Truth be told, she found Theo increasingly intriguing. Now she’d had an unexpected taste of conversation that went beyond pleasantries, she wanted more because she had the feeling there was a lot going on behind that cold, steely facade. She saw it in the occasional flicker in his eyes and the way his jaw sometimes tightened.
Despite her best intentions to remain aloof and keep his ruthlessness at the forefront of her mind like some sort of shield, she could feel her opinion of him beginning to soften. She might have called him cold and merciless and lacking in empathy, but that wasn’t all he was. His misplaced guilt over Mike’s death and the apology for his behaviour at the funeral had been genuine. Then there was that hint of humour when he’d effectively told her to shut up, which was all the more attractive because of its rarity. And now there was the car that was waiting for them on the tarmac, a gorgeous bright red convertible, low, sleek and powerful. Was it at all possible that he’d remembered what she’d once said about always wanting a nippy little convertible? What would it mean if he had?
Nothing sensible, she thought, if the warm fuzzy feeling spreading through her at the mere possibility was anything to go by. And certainly nothing that merited further analysis. She could not afford to let herself get distracted. She must not seek rainbows where there were none. She had to keep control of her wayward imagination and her precarious emotions and focus on the reality of her situation.
‘Nice wheels,’ she said, watching in admiration as Theo hefted their luggage into the boot as if it weighed nothing.
‘It was all that was left,’ he said and slammed the boot shut before striding round to the passenger door and opening it.
Oh. Right. Well, that cleared that up. Good. And frankly what did it matter how this car had ended up here? She still got to ride in it. So that annoying stab of disappointment could get lost.
‘Lucky me,’ she said with a bright, slightly forced smile as she walked towards him. ‘No chauffeur?’
‘I like to drive,’ he said, unhooking his sunglasses from the v of his shirt and putting them on. ‘Get in.’
* * *
By the time Theo pulled off the road an hour and a half later and drove through a pair of giant iron gates, Kate had come to a number of conclusions.
Firstly, the northern Italian countryside in summer was stunning. It had taken a while to get out of Milan, but once they’d left the suburbs there’d been nothing but lush greenery and an abundance of beautiful wild flowers. Secondly, there was something impossibly sexy about a gorgeous man driving a fast car in the sunshine, with his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows and sunglasses on. And thirdly, it turned out she had a thing for competence.
The way Theo handled the powerful car was nothing short of masterful. Unlike many of the other road users, he didn’t drive recklessly. In the city he kept his cool when everyone else seemed to be yelling and gesticulating wildly, and on the open road that had brought them to the edge of Lake Como, he stuck more or less to the speed limit and didn’t overtake on blind bends.
Safe. That was how she felt with him. Everything he did was calculated. Measured. He liked to be in control and he was careful. Maybe that was why he refused to engage with the pregnancy. Maybe it represented a careless moment that he was in denial about. Or maybe he really just didn’t care.
Whatever.
It didn’t matter.
She was probably overthinking things anyway.
What did matter and what she ought to be thinking about was that they were here, and it was time to slip into the role of adoring, snark-free fiancée, which thankfully had become easier with practice.
The long wide gravelled drive was lined with soaring cypress trees and the warm late afternoon air was filled with the sweet scent of jasmine and honeysuckle. When the drive split, Theo took the left fork, and a minute later pulled up outside a surprisingly modest house that was ochre in colour, had petrol-blue shutters at the windows and elaborate iron balconies, and exuded old soft warmth.
While Kate smoothed her windswept hair, Theo climbed out of the car and strode to the boot. ‘It should be open,’ he said. ‘Go on in.’
‘Can we?’ Kate asked in surprise. ‘Oughtn’t we wait for our hosts?
‘It’s the guest house. It’s all ours.’
Oh.
Oh, dear.
She hadn’t anticipated she and Theo being on their own. In fact she hadn’t given their accommodation any thought at all. But clearly she should have because this place didn’t look big enough to have two bedrooms and what that might mean she didn’t like to think.
In some trepidation, she pushed open the door and stepped inside, the sudden drop in temperature scattering goosebumps all over her skin. The flagstone floor was covered with a series of rugs in terracotta and white. The open-plan space was divided into cooking, dining and sitting zones. At the far end to her right was a huge fireplace. In front of it was a long, comfy-looking sofa and a table stacked with magazines. In the middle was a dining table that seated four, and on the left the kitchen. Off that was a utility room and a shower room, and then, up a wide flight of stone steps, the cool white en-suite bedroom.
Singular.
‘Ah, Theo?’ said Kate, heading back downstairs to where Theo was coming in with their bags and dumping them just inside the front door.
‘What?’
‘Bit of a problem...’
‘What is it?’
‘There’s only one bedroom.’
His dark brows snapped together in a deep frown. ‘Right.’
‘I’m happy to take the sofa.’
‘I’ll take the sofa.’
‘You’re bigger than me.’
‘You’re pregnant.’
Ah, so he hadn’t forgotten... ‘Only just,’ she said, not wanting to analyse the giddy pleasure and weird relief she felt at the knowledge.
‘It’s non-negotiable.’
It was ridiculous. ‘We could share the bed.’
His jaw clenched. ‘No.’
‘We could put pillows down the middle or something.’
‘No.’
‘It is huge.’
<
br /> ‘Kate,’ said Theo tightly, fast running out of patience if his expression was anything to go by, ‘the bed could be the size of Italy and it wouldn’t be big enough if you were in it.’
Ooh, ouch.
His words landed on her with the sting of a thousand arrows and she had to fight hard to resist the temptation to curl in on herself. ‘There’s no need to be rude,’ she said, feeling herself flush with mortification and searing disappointment that he thought of her like that.
‘What?’ he snapped, striding towards her and stopping a foot in front of her, his eyes suddenly blazing. ‘No. I mean if we occupy the same bed, wherever you are in it, I will find you. And once I do, I can’t guarantee there’ll be no inappropriate touching.’
Oh.
Oh...
As his confession sank in Kate reeled, her breath catching in her throat and her head swimming. Was he really saying what she thought he was saying? Apparently he was. Which meant that, contrary to what she’d assumed, the attraction wasn’t one-sided. He still wanted her. Intensely, judging by the hot, focused way he was looking at her.
Intriguing.
‘I see,’ she said huskily.
‘Do you?’ he said, his eyes dark and glinting. ‘I’m not sure you do. But believe me, Kate, you do not want us sharing a bed.’
What if she did?
No. She didn’t. She couldn’t. Sex again with Theo, although no doubt explosive, would serve no purpose whatsoever. Besides, this whole situation was complicated enough and if she had any sense of self-preservation at all, she’d put it right out of her mind.
‘Okay, fine,’ she said, determined to stamp out the heat and desire pummelling through her and to regain control of her senses. ‘Take the sofa.’
‘Wise decision. Dinner’s at eight.’
‘And in the meantime?’
‘You can do what you like,’ he said, his expression now shuttered and inscrutable. ‘I’m going for a swim.’
CHAPTER TEN
EARLIER, THEO HAD swum to the nearest promontory and back. It had taken him two hours at full pace and it should have exhausted him. It should have wiped out the ever-present lust and the increasingly unbearable edginess. But it hadn’t. When Kate had emerged from the bedroom half an hour ago in a simple black shift dress, her hair rippling around her shoulders like a blonde wavy waterfall, all he wanted to do was walk her back into the room, tumble her onto the bed and to hell with dinner.