Pulling his laptop in front of him, he flipped it open as they began to leave the room.
The day had passed with grinding slowness.
Nothing had seemed to hold his attention, or maybe he simply hadn’t been able to concentrate. But, either way, his thoughts had kept drifting off from whatever spreadsheet or proposal he was supposed to be discussing, and his head had filled with memories of the night before.
More specifically, memories of Nola—her body straddling his, her face softening as his own body grew harder than it had ever been...
He gritted his teeth. For some reason she had got under his skin in a way no woman ever had before. He’d even fallen asleep holding her in his arms. But for once intimacy had felt natural, right.
Staring down blankly at his computer screen, he felt his chest tighten. So what if it had felt right? He’d held her in his sleep. He hadn’t even been conscious. And of course he would like to have sex with Nola again. He was a normal heterosexual man, and she was a beautiful, sexy woman.
Abruptly his muscles tensed, his eyes narrowing infinitesimally as through the open door he caught a glimpse of gleaming dark hair.
Nola! His stomach tightened involuntarily and he felt a rush of anticipation.
All day he’d been expecting to bump into her, had half imagined that she might seek him out. But now he realised that wouldn’t be her way. She’d want it to play out naturally—like the tide coming in and going out again.
He breathed out sharply, his pulse zigzagging through his veins like a thread pulled through fabric, and before he even knew what he was doing he had crossed the room and yanked open the door.
But the corridor was empty.
Anger stuttered across his skin.
What the—? Why hadn’t she come in to talk to him? She must have seen him.
Breathing out slowly, he stalked swiftly through the corridor to his office.
Jenny, his secretary, glanced up from her computer, her eyes widening at the expression on his face.
‘Get Nola Mason on the phone. Tell her I want her in my office in the next five minutes.’
Slamming his office door, he strode across the room and stared furiously out of the window.
Was this some kind of a game?
Hopefully not—for her sake.
There was a knock at the door, and he felt a rush of satisfaction at having dragged Nola away from whatever it was she’d been doing.
‘Come in,’ he said curtly.
‘Mr Walker—’
He turned, his face hardening as he saw Jenny, hovering in the doorway.
She smiled nervously. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Walker. I was just going to tell you, but you went into your office before—’
He frowned impatiently. ‘Tell me what?’
‘Ms Mason can’t come right now.’
‘Can’t or won’t?’ he snapped.
Jenny blinked. ‘Oh, I’m sure she would if she were here, Mr Walker. But she’s not here. She left about an hour ago. For the airport.’
Ram stared at her in silence, his eyes narrowing.
The airport?
‘I—I thought you knew,’ she stammered.
‘I did.’ He gave her a quick, curt smile. ‘It must have slipped my mind. Thank you, Jenny.’
As the door closed his phone buzzed in his jacket and he reached for it, glancing distractedly down at the screen. And then his heart began to beat rhythmically in his chest.
It was an email.
From [email protected].
The corner of his mouth twisted, and then the words on the screen seemed to slip sideways as he slowly read, then reread, the email.
Dear Mr Walker
I am writing to confirm that in accordance with our agreement, today will be the last day of my employment at RWI. My colleague, Anna Harris—nee Mackenzie—and I will, of course, be in close contact with the on-site team, and remain available for any questions you may have.
I look forward to the successful completion of the project, and I wish to take this opportunity to thank you for all your personal input.
Nola Mason
Ram stared blankly at the email.
Was this some kind of a joke?
Slowly, his heart banging against his ribs like bailiffs demanding overdue rent, he reread it.
No, it wasn’t a joke. It was a brush-off.
He read it again, his anger mounting with every word. Oh, it was all very polite, but there could be no mistaking the thank-you-but-I’m-done undertone. Why else would she have included that choice little remark at the bottom?
I wish to take this opportunity to thank you for all your personal input.
His fingers tightened around the phone.
Personal input!
He could barely see the screen through the veil of anger in front of his eyes, and it didn’t help that he knew he was behaving irrationally—hypocritically, even. For in the past he’d ended liaisons with far less charm and courtesy.
But this was the woman he was paying to protect his business from unwanted intruders. Why, then, had he let her get past the carefully constructed emotional defences he’d built between himself and the world?
CHAPTER FOUR
Three months later
GLANCING UP AT the chalkboard above her head, Nola sighed. It was half past ten and the coffee shop was filling up, and as usual there was just too much choice. Today though, she had a rare morning off, and she wasn’t about to waste the whole of it choosing a hot drink! Not even in Seattle, the coffee-drinking capital of the world.
Stepping forward, she smiled apologetically at the barista behind the counter. ‘Just a green tea. Drink in. Oh, and one of those Danish, please. The cinnamon sort. Thanks.’
The sun was shining, but it was still not quite warm enough to sit outside, so she made her way to a table with a view of Elliott Bay.
Shrugging off her jacket, she leaned back in her seat, enjoying the sensation of sunlight on her face. Most of her time at work was spent alone in an office, hunched over a screen, so whenever she had any free time she liked to spend it outside. And her favourite place was right here, on the waterfront.
It was a little bit touristy. But then she was a tourist. And, besides, even if it did cater mainly to visitors, the restaurants still served amazingly fresh seafood and the coffee shops were a great place to relax and people-watch.
It was two weeks since she’d arrived in Seattle. And three months since she’d left Sydney. Three months of picking over the bones of her impulsive behaviour. Of wondering why she had ever thought that the consequences of sleeping with her boss would be less messy than sleeping with any other colleague?
Her pulse hopscotched forward. It was a little late to start worrying about consequences now. Particularly when one of them was a baby.
Breathing out slowly, she glanced down at her stomach and ran her hand lightly over the small rounded bump.
She had never imagined having a child. Her parents’ unhappy marriage and eventual divorce had not exactly encouraged her to think of matrimony as the fairy-tale option that many of her friends, including Anna, believed it to be.
Being a mother, like being married, had always been something she thought happened to other people. Had she thought about it at all, she would probably have wanted the father of her baby to be a gentle, easy-going, thoughtful man.
She took another sip of tea.
So not Ram Walker, then.
And yet here she was, carrying his baby.
Across the café a young couple sat drinking lattes, gazing dotingly at a baby in a buggy. They looked like a photoshoot for the perfect modern family, and suddenly the cup in her hand felt heavy. Almost as heavy as her heart. For it was a life her child would never enjoy.
Not least because she hadn’t told Ram about the baby.
And nor would she.
Had he shown any sign, any hint that he wanted to be a father, she would have told him the moment she’d found out. But som
e men just weren’t cut out for relationships and commitment, and Ram was one of them.
He’d said so to her face, so it had been easy at first to feel that her silence was justified—especially when she was still struggling not just with the shock of finding out she was pregnant but with nausea and an exhaustion that made getting dressed feel like a tough mission.
Only now, when finally she was in a fit enough state to think, she was almost as overwhelmed with guilt as she had been with nausea.
Evening after evening had been spent silently arguing with herself over whether or not she should tell him about the baby. But with each passing day she’d convinced herself that there really was no point in letting him know.
He’d clearly stated that he didn’t want to be a father, and she knew from the way he lived his life that he wasn’t capable of being one.
She didn’t mean biologically. He clearly could father a child—and had. But what kind of a father would he be? His relationships with women lasted days, not years—not much use for raising a child to adulthood. Their brief affair had given her first-hand experience of his limited attention span. That night in his office she had felt as though he was floating through her veins. But afterwards he’d barely acknowledged the email she’d sent him. Just sent a single sentence thanking her for her services.
Her face felt hot. Was that the real reason why she hadn’t told him about the baby? Her pride? Her ego? A yearning to keep her memories of that night intact and not made ugly by the truth? The truth that he’d never wanted anything more than a one-night stand. Never wanted her or this baby.
She felt the hot sting of tears behind her eyes as silently she questioned her motives again. But, no, it wasn’t pride or sentimentality that was stopping her from saying anything.
It was him. It was Ram.
She didn’t need to confront him to know that he wouldn’t want to know about the baby, or be a father, or be in their lives. Whatever connection there had been between them had ended when she’d crept out of his office in the early hours of that morning. Nothing would change that, so why put herself through the misery of having him spell it out in black and white?
She shifted in her seat. So now she was three months pregnant, unmarried, living out of a suitcase—and happy.
It was true that she sometimes got a little freaked out at the thought of being solely responsible for the baby growing inside her. But she knew she could bring a child up on her own—better than if Ram was involved.
Her mum had done it and, besides, Anna and Robbie would be there for her—when she finally got round to telling them.
She felt a twinge of guilt.
Unlike with Ram, she didn’t have any doubts about telling her friends about the baby. Quite the opposite. She wanted them to know. But by the time she’d done a test she’d been in Seattle, struggling with morning sickness. Besides, she wanted to tell her friend face-to-face, not over the—
Her phone rang and, glancing down at the screen, she frowned. It was Anna. Quickly, she answered it.
‘That is so weird. I was literally just thinking about you.’
Anna snorted. ‘Really? What happened? Did you eat some shortbread and finally remember your old pal in Scotland?’
‘I spoke to you three days ago,’ Nola protested.
‘And you said you’d call back. But what happens? Nothing. No text. No email...’
‘I’ve been busy.’
‘Doing what?’ Anna paused. ‘No, let me guess. Drinking coffee?’
Nola smiled. Since her arrival in Seattle, it was a private joke between them that Nola was drinking coffee every time her friend called.
Tucking the phone under her chin, she smiled. ‘Actually, it’s green tea, and it’s delicious. And the Danish isn’t bad either!’
‘You’re eating a Danish? That’s fantastic.’
The relief in Anna’s voice caught Nola off guard. They might barely have seen one another over the last few months but she knew her friend had been worried about her, and if she wasn’t going to tell her about the baby, the least she could do was put Anna’s mind at rest.
‘Yeah, you heard it here first. The appetite’s back. Pizzerias across the entire state of Washington are rejoicing! In fact I might even get a national holiday named after me.’
Anna laughed. ‘I always said you had Italian roots.’
‘Was it my blue eyes or my pale skin that gave it away?’ Nola said teasingly. ‘Okay, that’s enough of your amateur psychology, Dr Harris. Tell me why you’ve rung.’
There was a slight pause.
‘You mean I need something more than just being bossy?’
Nola frowned. There was something odd about her friend’s voice. She sounded nervous, hesitant. ‘I don’t know—do you?’
There was a short silence, then Anna sighed. ‘Yes. I still can’t believe it happened, but...you know how clumsy I am? Well, I was out walking yesterday with Robbie, and I tripped. Guess what? I broke my foot.’
Relief, smooth and warm, surged over Nola’s skin.
‘Oh, thank goodness.’ She frowned. ‘I don’t mean thank goodness you broke your foot—I just thought it was going to be something worse.’ She breathed out. ‘Are you okay? Does it hurt? Have you got one of those crazy boot things?’
‘I’m fine. It doesn’t hurt anymore and, yeah, I’ve got a boot. But, Noles...’
Anna paused and Nola felt the air grow still around her.
‘But, Noles, what?’ she said slowly.
‘I can’t fly for another week. It’s something to do with broken bones making you more at risk of blood clots, so—’
Nola felt her ribcage contract. Glancing down, she noticed that her hands were shaking. But she’d read the email. She knew what was coming.
‘So you want me to go to Sydney?’
Nola swallowed. Even just saying the words out loud made panic grip her around the throat.
‘I really didn’t want to ask you, and ordinarily I’d just postpone it. But the launch is so close.’ There was another infinitesimal pause. ‘And we are under contract.’
Anna sounded so wretched that Nola was instantly furious with herself.
Of course she would go to Sydney. Her friend had been a shoulder to cry on after she’d slept with Ram and generally fallen apart. She damn well wasn’t going to make her sweat and feel guilty for asking one tiny favour.
‘I know, and I understand—it’s fine,’ she heard herself say.
‘Are you sure? I thought there might be a problem—’
There definitely would be a problem, Nola thought dully. About six feet of problem, with tousled dark hair and cheekbones that could sharpen steel. But it would be her problem, not Anna’s.
‘There won’t be!’ Nola shook her head, trying to shake off the leaden feeling in her chest. ‘And it’s me who should be sorry. Moping around and making a huge fuss about some one-night stand.’
‘You didn’t make a fuss,’ Anna said indignantly, sounding more like herself. ‘You made a mistake. And if he wasn’t paying us such a huge sum of money, I’d tell him where he could stick his global launch.’
Nola laughed. ‘Let’s wait until the money clears and then we can tell him together. Look, please don’t worry, Anna. It’ll be fine. It’s not as if he’s going to be making an effort to see me.’
‘Oh, you don’t need to worry about that,’ Anna said quickly. ‘I checked before I called you. He’s in New York on some business trip. He won’t be back for at least five days, so you definitely won’t have to see him. Not that you’d have much to say to him even if he was there.’
Hanging up, Nola curled her arms around her waist protectively.
Except that she did.
She had a lot to say.
Only she had no intention of saying any of it to Ram—ever.
* * *
Glancing out of the window of his limo, Ram stared moodily up at the RWI building with none of the usual excitement and pride he felt at seeing th
e headquarters of his company. His trip to New York had been productive and busy—there had been the usual hectic round of meetings—but for the first time ever he had wanted to come home early.
As the car slowed he frowned. He still didn’t understand why he’d decided to shorten his trip. But then, right now he didn’t understand a lot of what was happening in his life, for it seemed to be changing in ways he couldn’t control or predict.
Nodding at the receptionists on the front desk, he strode through the foyer and took the lift up to the twenty-second floor. Closing the door to his office, he stared disconsolately out of the window.
The launch date was rapidly approaching, but he was struggling to find any enthusiasm and energy for what amounted to the biggest day of his business career.
Nor was he even faintly excited about any of the beautiful, sexy women who were pursuing him with the determination and dedication of hungry cheetahs hunting an impala.
Why did he feel like this? And why was he feeling like it now?
He gritted his teeth. He knew the answer to both those questions. In fact it was the same answer. For, despite his having tried to erase her from his mind, Nola was the answer, the punchline, the coda to every single question and thought he’d had since she’d left Australia.
It might have been okay if it was just every now and then, but the reality was that Nola was never far from his thoughts. Even though she’d been gone for months now, every time he saw a mass of long dark hair he was still sure it was her. And each time that it wasn’t he felt the same excitement, and disappointment, then fury.
There was a knock at the door, and when he was sure his face would give away nothing of what he was feeling, he said curtly. ‘Come in.’
It was Jenny.
‘I emailed you the data you asked for.’ She handed him a folder. ‘But I know you like a hard copy as well.’
He nodded. ‘Anything crop up while I was away?’
‘Nothing major. There were a couple of problems with some of the pre-order sites, and the live stream was only working intermittently on Tuesday. But Ms Mason sorted them out so—’
Kidnapped for the Tycoon's Baby Page 6