Billionaire's Baby Chase

by Valerie Parv

  He gave a taut nod. “Yes.”

  The one-word answer made her heart ache. How had he borne it? Ruth hadn’t even allowed him the luxury of a proper goodbye. For the first time she fully understood what the separation must have been like for him and a feeling of such savagery tore through her that she was shaken. How could Ruth have put him through such pain?

  She saw him set himself to deal with the memory, then he gave a slight shudder as if to free himself of it. “Don’t worry. Genevieve will have a great time with Grace. You can call them as often as you like.”

  She nodded distantly, aware that not all her concern was for Genie. “I know. I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

  “But you’re still unhappy. Not on my account, I trust?”

  She was well aware that not caring was a condition of her marriage. James would be appalled at how much her thoughts had begun to revolve around him, especially now that they were officially husband and wife. Yet try as she might, she couldn’t seem to stop them. “It’s the helicopter. I’ve never liked them,” she explained. Her work as a property manager had entailed occasional rides in them and they still made her feel uneasy. “I’ll be okay once we get to the hotel.”

  He cleared his throat softly, drawing her eyes to his face. A slight smile turned up the corners of his mouth. “I hope you’re more comfortable on a yacht than in a helicopter.”

  As his words sunk in, she drew a strangled breath. A yacht implied confined spaces, nowhere she could escape from James. Although why she felt the need to didn’t bear close scrutiny. “We aren’t going to a hotel?”

  He shook his head. “The company’s yacht is moored at Rushcutters Bay. It’s comfortable and private.”

  Her heart hammered against her rib cage. She tried to tell herself her concern was for James’s medical condition. “Is it safe for you? What if something goes wrong?”

  “The yacht is equipped with radio and phone, and a full staff trained in first aid.” Mild amusement colored his tone. “Are you sure that’s your only problem, Zoe?”

  “Of course. What else would it be?”

  “What else, indeed?”

  The yacht, Harbor Knight, was a fantasy vessel, a sleek futuristic-looking cruiser designed for luxury sailing, from the covered sundeck with its upholstered seating to a Jacuzzi on the foredeck, which could be filled with freshwater or saltwater.

  High ceilings and cane furniture made the main deck light and airy. The dining room, bar and saloon could accommodate sixty passengers, James told her. Colors ranged from white to buttery cream, taking their inspiration from a Matisse print on the silk-covered wall. Even the door handles were custom-designed and included James’s company crest.

  She refused his invitation to inspect the staterooms, choosing instead to go up on deck and pretend interest in the harbor foreshores as they cruised around Cremorne and Mosman Bay, an oddly peaceful sanctuary with trees growing almost to the water’s edge, despite its proximity to the city’s center.

  “I grew up in Cremorne,” James told her, pointing out a modest apartment block well back from the waterfront. “Grace’s family used to live next door. She and my sister went to school together.”

  Zoe tried to still the trembling his touch induced in her. “It sounds idyllic.”

  He frowned darkly. “It was until my father died. The man my mother married thought I should leave school and start earning my keep. In a way he did me a favor. I was so determined to ask my stepfather for nothing that I saved every cent I earned and invested it in property. I lived in one room and got by on one meal a day, but the first house I ever lived in, I owned.”

  “You must have been very lonely,” she observed, thinking of her own childhood with her parents frequently absent on scientific expeditions and only her grandparents to provide any sort of home life. At least she’d had them. James had had no one.

  “Don’t waste your sympathy on me, Zoe. I did all right out of it. Remember the old saying, what doesn’t destroy us makes us stronger.”

  If it was true, she’d be invincible when this was over, she thought, seriously doubting it. As the night drew in and the lights came on around the foreshores, turning the harbor waters into a diamond-strewn velvet surface, it was becoming harder to ignore the reality of her situation.

  She was his wife. This was their wedding night. The yacht might indeed be staffed but the staff were almost invisible in their quiet efficiency. In the saloon, James had given her a tour of the built-in television and video equipment, but she was not in the mood for one of the yacht’s vast library of movies on tape. So she sat beside him in the gathering dark, her awareness of him growing with the shadows.

  What was he thinking about as he sat beside her in silence while the parade of ferries and pleasure craft, now mere garlands of lights, glided over the obsidian surface of the harbor? She found herself studying his profile, outlined strongly by the glow emanating from the saloon below. His lips were slightly parted, inviting her to remember the feel of them against her own. Beneath craggy brows his eyes were dark caverns, forbidding yet exciting in their mysteriousness. Both hands rested on his knees, which were slightly apart, his feet planted solidly against the decking, bracing his body against the gentle roll of the yacht with the tide.

  She licked her lips, which had become dry suddenly, as a tendril of fierce sensation whipped through her, shocking in its intensity. The power of it almost brought her to her feet, every fiber of her being in revolt. He was an overwhelmingly attractive man. It was normal to feel the pull of such a powerful chemistry, especially given all that had passed between them today.

  She had been on her own for a long time since Andrew died, not really wanting any serious involvement after the hell he had put her through. Now she was feeling the echoes of old needs and desires, revived by the emotional strain of the day. James was the catalyst, that was it.

  “You’re restless,” he said out of the darkness. “Not regretting today?”

  “Of course not. We have an agreement and I intend to honor it.” Her voice sounded alarmingly shaky even to her own ears.

  She tensed as he moved up behind her, his breath a soft wind against the sensitive nape of her neck. “Is there any reason why you can’t enjoy it as well?”

  Chapter Ten

  As the dusk turned to dark James was well aware that Zoe was watching him. He wished he could read her mind. Was the same thought on her mind that was on his? This was their wedding night. But Zoe’s stillness gave him no clue as to how she felt about it. Ruth had never been still and had never spent even a night aboard the yacht, claiming it made her feel too confined. Zoe didn’t seem to mind.

  But then she was very different from Ruth in ways he had only gradually begun to appreciate. It wasn’t only her skills with Genevieve, admirable though they were. No, it was more an inner strength that had enabled her to survive her experience with her late husband and emerge stronger, wiser, unbowed in body or spirit.

  Her strength drew James like a magnet, not only because she would need every bit of it if his operation went badly. If he was honest, there was another, more personal reason. At some level he recognized her spirit as the counterpart of something in himself, almost like the missing pieces of a puzzle. When he was around Zoe, he felt…complete. There was no other way to put it.

  Crazy fool, he told himself impatiently. The prospect of the operation must be making him sentimental. Zoe had no time for him, only for his child whom she thought of as her own.

  Sometimes there was no justice. As it was, her nearness made him increasingly aware of his manhood—and not especially comfortably, either. Why hadn’t he booked them into a hotel where they would have had places to go and things to do other than focus on each other?

  From the moment he brought Zoe aboard Harbor Knight, he knew he had made a mistake. He had chosen the yacht for peace and privacy, both of which he badly needed. But he had reckoned without the disturbing effect of Zoe herself on his peace of mind—and other
parts of his anatomy. Knowing she was legally his wife only made it worse.

  Why hadn’t he noticed before how stunningly attractive Zoe was? Oh, he’d noted her good points almost from the first meeting—what red-blooded man wouldn’t? But he hadn’t allowed the total effect of the woman to fully impact on his consciousness until this moment. Out on the water with only the stars and the ghostly movements of other vessels for company, breathing in the delicate aura of her perfume, he felt his muscles tighten with the urge to pull her into his arms.

  He’d never felt so off balance before, not even when he and Ruth were courting in the Middle East. Thrown together by circumstances, they’d clung together like people in the same life raft. Like people in that situation, they should have gone their separate ways as soon as the raft reached a safe shore. They probably would have done just that, if not for the accident that had left Ruth pregnant with his child.

  In a million lifetimes, he could never regret Genevieve, but he did regret that he hadn’t been able to give Ruth more of whatever she craved from life. It was certainly not him.

  So he was right back where he started. Zoe was not Ruth, thank goodness, but she had about as much interest in him as a man as Ruth had. To Zoe he was an obstacle, the man standing between her and the child she adored.

  He felt like a kid with his nose pressed against a candy store window. By marrying Zoe he had bought the store, but it was still locked against him. And he had effectively given her the keys as part of their deal. She would probably be horrified if she knew the direction his thoughts were taking.

  A rush of breath caught his attention and he started guiltily. Had she somehow picked up on his thoughts? He watched her wrap her arms around herself as she drifted to the mahogany railing and leaned against it, staring into the water.

  “Restless?” he asked her. When she nodded he moved up behind her, close enough to inhale the wonderful scent of her. It reminded him of the seductive jasmine fragrances used by the women of the East. “Not regretting today?”

  The muscles in the back of her neck knotted and it was all he could do not to drop his hands to her shoulders and massage the tension away. If he touched her now, he knew he would be in big trouble. “We have an agreement and I intend to honor it,” he heard her say stiffly. Something in her tone made him think it wasn’t what she wanted to say at all.

  Big trouble, he sighed to himself. His thoughts might be occupied with romance, but she was obviously taking a more pragmatic view, no doubt wondering how soon she could excuse herself and go to bed—alone.

  “I know we have an agreement,” he acknowledged heavily, not sure why he felt so disappointed. “But is there any reason why you can’t enjoy it as well?”

  In the golden light spilling from the saloon, he saw surprise flare in her expression. “I am enjoying myself. It’s an idyllic spring evening. The water is like glass and the stars look close enough to touch.”

  He could see stars, too, but his were in the eyes she turned to him and it was tempting to tell her so. If it wasn’t for his previous experience with Ruth, he might have weakened and done so, but he and Zoe were as much under the gun now as he’d been before in the Middle East. Until the outcome of his surgery was known, there was no point in starting something he couldn’t finish. Maybe if he lived through the next week, he would need to reconsider, but not now.

  “It’s getting cool,” he said, taking her arm in as clinical a touch as he could manage. The slight contact still played havoc with his insides, but he mastered it by sheer force of will. “Let’s go below. The chef should have dinner ready by now.”

  What was the matter with her? Zoe asked herself as James escorted her to the dining saloon where everything was ready for their dinner. For a moment, James sounded as if he was the one regretting their bargain. Was he so against being committed to her in marriage, even temporarily? After Ruth his wariness was understandable, but there was no need on Zoe’s account. After Andrew, she’d had her fill of loveless marriages. She wasn’t about to repeat the mistake, with or without the prenuptial agreement that James had made sure she signed.

  He seated her on one of the cream-upholstered banquettes facing a wall of mirrors. In the reflection she saw him massage the back of his neck, a frown etching his tanned forehead. As he sat down opposite her she felt immediately remorseful. How could she think of herself at a time like this?

  “Another headache?” she asked.

  He shrugged dismissively. “Nothing serious. Champagne?”

  Following his lead she dropped the subject and deliberated between the Domaine Chandon and Perrier-Jouët vintages he offered, finally choosing the Australian-grown wine.

  With fabulous flower arrangements, Felix Frères silver, Hutschenreuther 1814 china, Villeroy and Boch glassware and a menu worthy of a five-star restaurant, there were distractions aplenty, but still she found her eyes lingering on James between courses. The growing strain around his mouth and eyes wasn’t lost on her, and she ached for a way to ease it. But how could she when he only wanted her help in securing Genie’s future?

  The fact soured her pleasure in the chef’s magnificent offerings of ravioli filled with lobster mousse a la crème, followed by twin mignon of venison in cantaloupe cream. She refused dessert of coconut soufflé with Drambuie sauce, in favor of filtered coffee with a splash of fresh cream.

  James also settled for coffee and leaned back, resting one long-fingered hand along the back of the banquette. “Would you like port or a liqueur to go with that?”

  She shook her head. “Two glasses of champagne are already more than I usually have.”

  He smiled. “Then it’s just as well you aren’t driving home.”

  “No need to remind me,” she said, strain sharpening her voice.

  He studied her long and hard over the rim of his coffee cup. “Is it such a trial, being here with me?”

  It was but not for the reasons he probably imagined. Ever since they came below, her body had started feeling like a tuning fork, awaiting the right touch to send it wild with vibrations. The dining saloon was spacious, but James still seemed far too close for comfort. Her breasts rose and fell in time with her ragged breathing, until she wondered if her knees would hold her without buckling if she stood up.

  This would have to stop. She replaced the cup in its saucer. “I’m tired. Do you mind if I go to bed?”

  A shadow fell across his rugged features. If she hadn’t known better, she would swear he was disappointed. “I’ll show you to your cabin.”

  “No, it’s all right. Stay and finish your coffee. I’m sure I can remember the way.”

  Before he could insist on escorting her, she stumbled out of the main saloon and along the corridor that she recalled led to their staterooms. She had only peeked into the one James had chosen for her, before taking the coward’s way out and heading up on deck. But she had seen that it was as large as a hotel suite, with its own bathroom and sitting area. On the way to her room she passed the door to his suite, the twin of hers.

  By the time she closed her own door and leaned against it, her heart was beating a frantic tattoo. She was mature enough to know when she was aroused sexually, and this she was in spades. James was more of a man than any she had ever known and to be forced to spend an evening in such close quarters with him, she would need to be under a vow of chastity to remain unaffected.

  But that wasn’t the whole story. There was also an emotional tug that was completely unexpected and more powerful even than the siren song of his maleness. It pierced her heart with the need to be loved and cherished not as a prized possession, as she had been to Andrew, but as a soul mate in all things, sharing not only beds, but lives, in all their messy, roller-coaster diversity.

  Alarmed by the trend of her thoughts, she went into the bathroom, snapping on lights as if it would help to shed light on her own foolish notions. The impossibly flattering mirror refused to reveal anything but glowing skin, wide, bright eyes and tousled blond curls
as she dipped her head and splashed cooling water onto her hot features. Lined up under the mirror was a Rodeo Drive cosmetics selection of Mary Chess soap, Rene Guinot sun lotion and Tova 9 shampoo, but no potions to deal with what she was afraid really ailed her.

  Was she starting to care for James?

  No, no, no. Everything in her protested at the idea. Hadn’t she learned anything from her marriage to Andrew? A loveless marriage was hell on earth, and she didn’t intend to endure it ever again. She accepted that James was totally different from Andrew. He was far more generous and compassionate, with a heart as big as the man himself for one thing. But James was no more in love with her than Andrew had been.

  James’s motives were certainly more salutary. He wanted to assure Genie’s future no matter what happened to him, which was why Zoe had agreed to the union. But when all was said and done, both he and Andrew had married her for their own reasons. Love had nothing to do with it.

  Zoe dried her face on the fluffy towel then returned to the bedroom determined to blank the whole agonizing problem out of her mind and settle to sleep. The emotionally draining day had exhausted her and the queen-size bed beckoned in its curtained alcove. A maid had turned the covers down during dinner, making it look even more inviting.

  With the shimmering folds of her Thai silk nightdress poised over her head, Zoe paused, wondering whether she was also in James’s thoughts. It was their wedding night after all. The coffee-colored fabric whispered down over her body in the palest imitation of a caress and she shuddered involuntarily. Putting him out of her mind was going to be easier said than done.

  So it proved when she slid between the crisp, monogrammed sheets. The moment she closed her eyes he invaded her mind, his azure eyes sparkling and his wonderfully mobile mouth curved into a soul-wrenching smile. You want him, said a voice in her heart. No matter what the terms of this marriage, James is your husband. He’s a powerfully attractive man. It’s normal to want him. It would be abnormal not to.