by Alexia Adams
Olivia tucked the little girl into the bed and stroked her blond curls, whispering how much she was loved until her blue eyes drifted closed. Jonathan tiptoed into the room and put a white cylindrical object on the bedside table. Olivia hadn’t even realized he’d left.
“A monitor, so we can hear if she cries,” he whispered. “Will you join me for a glass of wine on the terrace? We need to talk.”
“I’ll be down in a minute.” He nodded and left.
Olivia sucked in a shuddering breath. How many times had she said those four words herself?
Nothing good ever followed “We need to talk.”
Chapter 6
Jonathan paced the terrace. At least he was sure there were no snakes to scare Olivia, although he was sorely tempted to keep one as a pet if it meant she’d occasionally disrobe. As if conjured by his thoughts, she stood in the doorway. He was getting used to the rush of warmth that raced through him whenever he saw her. That scared him. But not as much as the bundle of blond curls sleeping in his guest bedroom.
What the hell am I going to do with a daughter?
Olivia glided up to him and put her arms around his waist, pressing her luscious body against his. Too bad it was meant more as a comfort than a sexual come-on. “You look like you could use a hug.”
He could. He buried his face in her hair, inhaling the intoxicating fragrance she wore. He was relieved when, rather than causing him to harden with desire, the warmth and comfort she offered relaxed him. Taking his first deep breath since Celeste barged into his home, he pulled Olivia closer.
Her hand wandered up and down his back and her own deep breath caused her breasts to rub against his chest. Before his body took control and he repeated their soul-igniting kiss of earlier in the day—before he discovered he was a father—he dropped his hands and stepped back. Away from danger. Hell, who was he kidding? Unless she was on the other side of the world, he wouldn’t be out of danger.
But no matter how helpful she was, and how much he wanted her at this moment, she was still a model. He needed to remember that. Maybe he needed it tattooed on his arm—no more models.
“Hannah’s a delightful little girl,” she said. “She didn’t cry once while you were gone.”
He collapsed onto the patio sofa and grabbed one of the glasses of wine he’d put on the table. “I knew Celeste was bitter about our divorce. She didn’t like the fact that I was the one who filed and listed the cause as her infidelity. But I never thought she’d abandon her own child.”
“Was she always so … cold?”
“She was always self-centered. I thought it came with being a model, being the center of attention constantly. In my experience, it’s an industry that breeds divas. And one I never want to get involved with again.”
Olivia swallowed and closed her eyes for a second. When she opened them, they were more guarded.
Should he apologize for his comment about models? No, he’d met enough of them to know that deep down, they were all the same. He’d had a good laugh with Olivia yesterday, and she was being helpful now, but as soon as her phone rang, she’d be off.
“Still, you must have loved Celeste once to marry her.”
He’d never really talked about his marriage to anyone, since he considered it his ultimate failure. No matter how hard he’d tried or what he’d done, he’d never been able to make Celeste happy. He’d even felt guilty about the divorce. Thought that he’d been too distracted by his work and unable to fully sympathize with her troubles, and that’s why she’d felt the need to seek comfort in the arms of another. He hadn’t loved her enough and had been a disaster of a husband. Now, it seemed, the catastrophe of his marriage hadn’t been all on him. Because a woman who had cared for him, even a little, wouldn’t have kept him from knowing about his child.
“Celeste and I met at a club in London. I, along with every other man she encountered, wanted her. I was cocky and full of myself. I’d just finished university and got a position where getting what you wanted, no matter the cost, was the job description. I pursued her relentlessly, sending her flowers at her photo shoots, showing up at parties I knew she would attend … ” He heaved a sigh. He’d been so stupid.
“Celeste was young, too, only twenty. She was amazed at her power over men but not afraid to use it. We became lovers within a couple weeks and I was completely besotted. But really, I was just in it for the fun. For one thing, she didn’t get on with my family. Not even with my sister Stephanie, who is the same age.
“Four months after we met, Celeste said she was pregnant with my child and we had to get married. I was slightly suspicious as we had always used protection. But I wanted to live up to my responsibility. And I was chuffed for everyone to know that the beautiful Celeste Nichols was my wife.
“We had a quick wedding. Quick but very expensive. It took almost two years to pay for it. Within three weeks of the wedding, Celeste informed me that she had miscarried our baby. I was traveling on business at the time and offered to rush back to her side, but she said ‘no.’ She was going to take an assignment in Los Angeles and wouldn’t be home anyway.”
“Do you think she faked the pregnancy?”
“At the time, no. I thought because she barely ate, barely slept, it was likely her body was unable to cope with growing a baby. I was devastated, but she seemed unfazed. When I suggested that we try again the following year, she was adamant she didn’t want a child. Her career was flying, she had no intention of taking time off to have a baby. Not to mention what she said it would do to her body.
“Yet no matter how much money she made, she spent it just as quickly. Even though we were both working, our account was often in overdraft. Eventually, I started to put some money into a separate account in my name only, trying to rein in her spending.
“As the years passed, our careers pulled us in different directions. I did my best to coordinate my travel schedule so that I was home when she was. But often she’d just up and leave to go to some party halfway around the world. I thought I was boring, too preoccupied with my job. I worked long hours, leaving the house at 5 a.m. and not getting home till eight or nine most nights. Occasionally, we still made love, but it was mediocre. I think it was more out of a sense of duty on her part, and my head was too often at work.”
He shuddered now at the memory of touching her.
“One day, I went to work as usual. Celeste was in London. I’d noticed that her modeling assignments were getting fewer and paying less. She’d developed a reputation for being nasty to work with and erratic, sometimes storming out of shoots and not returning. Once she was so drunk, or high, she actually passed out and fell off the catwalk in Paris in the middle of a show.”
Olivia shook her head, although she didn’t seem surprised.
“Anyway, I went in to work, but by eleven I couldn’t read my computer screen. I had the most dreadful headache and a high fever. My colleagues threatened to strip me naked and parade me through Smithfield Market if I made them sick. So I went home in a taxi. I walked through the door and could hear Celeste laughing upstairs in the bedroom. I should have known then that something was up. I hadn’t heard her laugh in years. But I thought maybe she was on the phone with someone.”
Jonathan took a swig of wine, trying to banish the bitter taste in his mouth. Olivia moved to sit next to him, putting her hand on his knee for encouragement. “Celeste was in bed with a male model she often worked with. I was so stunned, I threw up all over the floor. Despite our lackluster marriage, I never once considered she would be unfaithful to me. I had never even thought of cheating on her.
“Anyway, I walked out the door and checked into a hotel. It was three days before I could even speak, and the first person I called was my lawyer. I filed for divorce, and aside from a few negotiation meetings I didn’t see her again until she walked through the door today. I thought I was done with that episode of my life. Obviously not.”
Jonathan sipped his wine and stared out into the bla
ck night. A meteor streaked across the sky, but he no longer knew what to wish for. After his divorce was finalized, he’d behaved like an inmate freed after years behind bars. He’d partied and slept with women he’d never called again. Until one day he woke up, looked in the mirror, and hated the man who stared back. So he’d arranged to take a sabbatical from work, bought this derelict house, and began searching for his self-respect amid the ruins. And it had worked. He was whole again. Well maybe not whole, but he knew his strengths and could work around his weaknesses.
He’d been ready to return to London, resume his career, and set about proving to the world that Jonathan Davis was back and in control. The past twenty-four hours had blown that idea to smithereens. Not only was he attracted to another model, he was also a father. Now he needed a new plan.
“I’m sorry, Jonathan, for all you’ve gone through. But Celeste did give you one precious thing—a beautiful daughter. Hannah needs you more than you can imagine. You are all she has in the world.” Olivia gazed up earnestly at his face.
“I don’t know, Olivia. I don’t know if I can do it. Can I look at that child every day and not see her mother’s face? Not remember the betrayal and the pain?” He forced his gaze from her and focused on swirling the wine in his glass.
“Jonathan.” She waited until he focused back on her face. “Give it time. I’m sure within a few days you’ll look at Hannah and see a little girl in her own right. She is not her mother and shouldn’t bear any responsibility for what her mother did. Remember, she is half you as well.”
“I don’t know what I would have done without you today. Thanks.” He placed his wineglass on the table then put his hand gently under her chin and raised her face to his.
He lowered his head and slowly kissed her full lips. At first the kiss was tentative, searching. But soon, wanting to imprint her taste and feel on his brain—to banish all thoughts and memories of his ex-wife—he gave himself over to the passion.
One of his hands moved into her hair, gently scattering the pins that held it up until it was flowing freely down her back in a riot of dark curls. The other hand glided up her side until he was cupping her breast, his thumb teasing her nipple into a tight bud through the thin cloth of her top. Olivia moaned softly and pressed herself closer to him. Her hand slipped under his shirt and up his back, melting his flesh in its wake.
He slid his other hand under her top and was about to release the hook at the back of her bra when she put her hands on his chest and pushed lightly.
“Hold on,” she said, her voice breathless. She sucked in a lungful of air. “We can’t do this.”
He had to wait while his brain made the journey from his trousers back to his skull before he could decipher her meaning. Was she worried about waking the child? “Hannah is fast asleep, and we can hear her from my room if she cries.” Although the thought of his daughter in the next room was a bit of a passion killer.
“No, I mean … we shouldn’t do this. I want you, Jonathan. God, you’re a fabulous kisser. But I promised myself that I wasn’t going to sleep with anyone unless I knew the relationship was going somewhere. This would just be sex, and that’s not enough for me anymore.”
“Are you sure?” A guy had to try. And just sex was exactly what he wanted right now.
“I’m sure. Goodnight, Jonathan.” She left the terrace and a minute later he heard her in the bedroom through the baby monitor.
He shut off the receiver so he didn’t hear her undress. No sense throwing kindling on a fire he was trying to put out. He poured himself another glass of wine and tried to work out how his life had suddenly got so complicated.
Chapter 7
“Hannah, honey, why don’t you show your daddy the picture you drew?” Olivia gently pressed on the little girl’s back, urging her in Jonathan’s direction. He sat at the far end of the kitchen table entering figures into a spreadsheet on his laptop, oblivious to the fact that his daughter had been coloring not ten feet from him.
Jonathan looked up from the computer and smiled as Hannah stood a few feet away, clutching her picture so tightly in her little fist that the paper almost ripped. “Can I see your picture, sweetheart?”
Slowly, Hannah walked the remaining steps toward him and tentatively held out the paper for his inspection.
“That’s beautiful, Hannah. Very … colorful.” Jonathan obviously struggled to find an appropriate comment for the squiggles on the paper. The little girl smiled shyly and then moved away to stand beside Olivia, as she folded freshly laundered clothes.
In the week since Hannah had come into their lives, she had slowly started to unwind. Her smiles were more frequent and once or twice she had chatted nonsense at the dolly that was her constant companion. Jonathan had set up the cot in the bedroom, relocating one of the twin beds to an empty room downstairs, which he said he was eventually going to set up as a home office.
Although Hannah now slept in her own bed, Olivia continued to share a room with her, as the little girl often woke in the night, whimpering softly. Olivia would quietly remind Hannah that she was nearby, and be rewarded a few minutes later with the gentle snores of a sleeping toddler.
The other reason Olivia slept there was Jonathan. Since the night of Hannah’s arrival, she’d been careful to keep her distance. Jonathan was potent stuff and she wasn’t yet immune. She didn’t trust herself to resist him a second time. Now was not the time to lose focus and pack in her dreams for the illusion that a man was going to solve all her problems. This little taste of family life was fun, even challenging at times as they tried to work out what Hannah wanted. Olivia certainly fell into bed exhausted at the end of the day. But it was just temporary. And she wasn’t going to settle for anything less than permanent.
As she put another of Hannah’s outfits on the pile to go upstairs, she caught sight of her nails. The polish was chipped from constantly washing something. She’d better plan a day at the spa before she went back to London or her agent wouldn’t book her on any more assignments. At least she’d been able to do her workout routine while Hannah napped, so she didn’t have weight to lose as well.
“I called my mother and told her about Hannah.” Jonathan’s deep voice broke into her thoughts. He sounded so serious.
“That must have been a shock for her.”
“Yes, but she recovered well. I’ve asked her to look after Hannah when I return to the UK.”
“Sounds like a good solution.” Olivia ignored the pressure in her chest. Despite the hard work and ruined nails, she was going to miss Hannah when the time came to say goodbye. But she could probably still pop around and see her regularly. “Does your mum live near you?”
“No, she’s up in Yorkshire.”
Olivia stared at him. “Yorkshire? How’s that going to work? I thought you lived and worked in London. Are you going to move up north?”
“No. Hannah will live with my parents. I’ll stay in London and go up every chance I get to see her.”
“Wait. What?” She stopped folding laundry, gripping the shirt in her hand so tightly it would take an hour of ironing to get the wrinkles out. “You’re going to abandon your daughter and have your mother raise her?”
He was showing who he really was now. Like every other man she knew, his own comfort was most important. Thank God she hadn’t slept with him. If it weren’t for Hannah, she’d walk out the door this instant and never look back. But for Hannah she had to make an effort to reason with him. Or beat him over the head with a pan until some sense was knocked into him.
“I want to do what’s best for the child. My parents will provide her with a stable, loving home. And with my nieces and nephews around the corner she’ll have extended family as well.” His voice was so calm, as though he were discussing whether to have fish or chicken for dinner.
To hell with reasoning with him. Her tenuous hold on her temper snapped. It was a good thing for him there wasn’t anything wieldable nearby.
“What is best for the ch
ild is for her father to stop calling her that and acknowledge that she’s his daughter, his flesh and blood. And no matter what spin you put on it, Jonathan, you’re not living up to your responsibility. You’re no better than Celeste!” Olivia threw the shirt she held at him. It fluttered harmlessly to the floor a couple feet away. If she weren’t so furious, she’d have laughed at the shocked expression on his face. As it was, she could barely stand to look at him.
“Come on, Hannah. It’s a lovely day. Let’s get out of this stuffy house and go for a walk.” She spoke as gently as possible to the little girl whose blue eyes had filled with tears at Olivia’s angry tone. She glared at Jonathan, warning him not to follow her. After putting their shoes on, she grabbed a couple of hats and her handbag and slammed the door behind her.
Her muscles quivered and her jaw hurt from clenching it. How dare he think he could foist his responsibility on his mother? She’d hoped that as the days passed, Jonathan would bond with his daughter. Instead she’d seen him almost physically hold himself back from showing affection to the little girl.
She sighed. Unfortunately, it was his decision. She really had no right to interfere—except she couldn’t help herself. She couldn’t just stand by and let Hannah be abandoned by yet another parent.
Because she was still new to the area, the only place they had to go was Sophia’s house. Thankfully, they’d left the stroller by the front door. She strapped Hannah in and headed down the road.
Maria and Vittore were delighted to see her again and greeted Hannah like a royal visitor. The older couple chatted to them in Italian, and although neither Olivia nor Hannah understood what they were saying, the love and enjoyment was so evident it didn’t matter. Occasionally, Olivia’s phone would ring, but as she saw Jonathan’s name come up with the number, she ignored the calls.
Finally, as it was getting dark and the phone began to ring more frequently, she answered. After all, she had run off with his daughter. He did have a right to know where she was.