by Tessa Radley
“We can take my car...it’s a station wagon,” she said wryly.
That amused Yevgeny. Ella didn’t have dogs or children yet she drove a station wagon? He kept the observation to himself. “We’ll take my car and leave Holly at home. That way the visit will take less time.” And as much as he adored the baby, this morning he wanted Ella’s undivided attention. It would be easier to assess her gut response to the house without the baby around to distract her. “I’ll call the Realtor to arrange access.”
“You’d better come in while I get ready.” She stepped away from the doorjamb to let him pass, and tossed him a prim smile. “I won’t be long.”
As Yevgeny followed Ella indoors he told himself it was going to be okay—everything would work out. The sunny morning. Her smile. The fact that Christmas was fast approaching.
All augured well.
He could sense that Ella was beginning to weaken.
* * *
As Yevgeny pulled the Porsche to a stop, Ella’s breath caught in her throat.
Nestled amidst sprawling gardens, the house was not a multimillion-dollar sculpture comprised of a series of post-modern boxes.
It was a jewel of a home.
With wide lawns and big leafy trees, it cried welcome to a family—not a bachelor billionaire.
Yevgeny unclipped his seat belt and turned to her. “I like the feel of this place. What do you think?”
What did she think? She loved it. But...
Ella stared through the tinted windshield trying—and failing—to imagine Yevgeny living here all by himself. “It looks...big.”
“Three stories, garage for half a dozen cars, several reception rooms, a home cinema, an indoor heated pool, staff quarters—and six bedrooms,” he recited. “But that’s not what interests me.”
He climbed out the sports car and came around to open her door before she could ask what did interest him—if not the sheer impressive scale of the residence.
“Come.”
Ella followed Yevgeny along the path that led up to the house.
Her emotions were all over the place. Why was Yevgeny considering buying such a house? He already had a penthouse apartment—from what she’d heard it was extremely luxurious. Why did he need a house, too?
Unless...
For Holly?
But Ella was not ready to face what the answer to that might mean. For the baby. For her. For everyone. Instead, she paused under the spreading, twisted branches of an old pohutukawa tree, and said, “Ah, a real, live New Zealand Christmas tree. It’s made for a tree house.”
His gaze followed hers to the beautiful branches loaded with bunches of red flowers. “I’m afraid I know little about tree houses—Dmitri and I never had one.”
“This calls out for one.” Squinting upward, Ella continued, “In fact, there’s enough space for a playhouse up there. It would need to be furnished. Chairs. A table. Kid-size crockery. Keira and I had a tree house growing up—we spent hours in ours.”
“What did you do?”
“We held tea parties. And played dress-up. And one summer we even made lemonade from the lemons that grew in the garden and opened a stall.” She turned her head to discover a slightly stunned expression in Yevgeny’s eyes.
Finally he said, “Then I’ll know who to call on to attend to the decor when the time is ripe.”
She smiled, but didn’t acknowledge the burgeoning certainty that the playhouse would be for Holly. Yevgeny had no intention of disappearing from the baby’s life.
It seemed like a huge amount of trouble to go to for a child
he would only see for periods agreed to by her adoptive parents. Unless...unless he still believed he could convince her otherwise?
No.
She’d made her position crystal clear—she wanted the baby to go to a family.... Yevgeny would have to accept that once she found the right parents for Holly.
And it was her choice.
Not his.
Hers.
This house was for him—not Holly. Although Ella recognized it would be lovely for Holly to have such a fantasy place to visit from time to time.
He was looking past her at the old tree with its low, sweeping branches crowned with red flowers. “Now, I can see that that bough would be perfect to support a swing.”
“A swing?”
Switching his attention back to her, Yevgeny gave her a crooked smile. “Holly would love it.”
So it was about Holly...not just him.
For a moment Ella allowed herself to imagine him pushing Holly on the swing on a warm summer’s eve...she could even hear Holly’s laughter ringing out.
Then she pulled herself up short.
No.
This house wasn’t for Holly...it was for Yevgeny. Primarily because his penthouse apartment had grown too small for his requirements. Better she keep her mind on task.
“Let’s look inside,” she said briskly.
The Realtor waited in front of the white front door at the top of the stairs. A smartly dressed woman with dark hair and hungry eyes, she smiled at Ella. “Mrs. Volkovoy?”
Good grief! “No.” Ella felt herself flushing. She shouldn’t be here. She was starting to feel like an imposter. “I’m not his wife—I’m a lawyer.”
The Realtor’s gaze arced to Yevgeny. “You didn’t mention you were bringing your lawyer.”
“Ella is not my lawyer,” said Yevgeny through clenched teeth
“Oh.” The Realtor’s curious eyes darted between them. To Ella’s relief the woman didn’t ask any of the questions that were clearly burning to escape. “Perhaps I should let you browse—and we can talk afterward?”
“Perfect.” Yevgeny gave a grim smile. “We’ll catch up later.”
Ella couldn’t help wondering what the hell she was doing here as she rushed to keep up with Yevgeny’s long stride.
* * *
“Oh, wow.”
Yevgeny stopped at the sound of Ella’s breathy exclamation. She was standing in the middle of the living room, staring out the wall of glass sliders leading to a long veranda with a backdrop of verdant gardens and sea beyond.
“One could spend the entire summer living on that veranda,” she said, transfixed. Then she gestured to the sleek fireplace in the end wall. “But in winter the fire would make it warm and welcoming inside.”
“There’s a hot spa at the end of the veranda to make winter even more pleasant,” Yevgeny told her.
“How fabulous.”
“And a kitchen and dining area made for entertaining on the other side of the dividing wall,” he added. “The home theater and wine cellar are downstairs. But come and look upstairs.” He wanted her opinion on the bedroom and playroom where Holly would spend most of her time.
“This one. What do you think?” Upstairs he led Ella eagerly to the second bedroom.
As Ella scanned the bedroom from the doorway, taking in the bright sunny light spilling through the high arched windows, he saw her surprise register.
“But this isn’t the master bedroom. You wouldn’t occupy this room.” Her eyes held a question as they met his. “This is for a...” Her voice trailed away.
Yevgeny could see the realization dawning as she entered. He headed in after her.
The room was decorated in shades of rich cream and pale blue. A bed with an intricate white ironwork bedstead was piled high with a collection of soft toys on a patchwork comforter, setting the girlish tone. Overhead, a chandelier winked in the sunlight. There was a window seat beneath the arched windows with space for picture books.
He could imagine Holly seated there paging through her favorite book as she grew up. Perhaps he could even ask Ella to help him furnish the room in a similar style once the house was his.
/> “This...this room is for Holly, right?” Ella sounded choked up.
Yevgeny came to a stop in front of her. “Yes. Do you like it?”
She shrugged her shoulders helplessly. “What can I say? It’s perfect.”
For that heartbeat they were in perfect accord, no hint of the animosity that had dogged their relationship since their first meeting. Yevgeny held his breath, loath to say anything lest the instant of harmony shatter into jagged shards of discontent. Seconds passed, and they stood drenched in warm sunlight in the house Yevgeny wanted for a home.
Deep in his chest hope started to build. Ella was starting to see things his way....
At last he moved.
Her eyes squeezed shut.
“Ella?”
At the questioning lilt of his voice, her lids lifted. And she looked straight into his eyes. Yevgeny felt a physical jolt. He was so close that he could see the shades of velvet brown and glittering gold. Desire flared. And something more...something new and fresh.
Again the crazy vision he’d glimpsed on her doorstep earlier and dismissed rose up. It was cemented with how right...how happy...Ella appeared to be in this setting.
Ella fit this place...
He bent his head. His lips met hers...pressed...waiting.
Hers parted.
The kiss deepened.
Closing his own eyes he sank into the softness that was Ella, a softness he’d never expected to discover, and concentrated on imprinting the instant in his memory to pull out and analyze later. To make sense of the inexplicable. For now, he simply absorbed the feel of her body against his. The warmth. The womanliness. The sweet, lilac scent that was the unique essence of Ella.
Finally, when his head lifted, his breath was ragged and he felt dazed and disoriented.
To his enormous dismay, Ella recovered first.
“Well,” she said, the bright flush on her cheeks already starting to fade, “I don’t think we need to take a look at the master suite after that.”
* * *
Ella glanced at her watch.
They were back downstairs, standing on the spacious veranda protected from the sea breeze that ruffled the tops of the great trees that flanked the house.
“Need to be somewhere else?” Yevgeny drawled. He leaned against the balustrade, blocking her view of the well-kept gardens below. “Or are you in a hurry to leave?”
Ella looked up at him.
The sun splintered in the gold of her eyes, blinding him for an instant.
Yevgeny blinked.
Ella was speaking, and he struggled to focus on what she was saying.
“No, I was simply thinking that if this was a weekday I’d be in my office working.” She made a sweeping gesture with her arm. “Solving other people’s problems and missing out on all this beauty.”
It was a relief to break away from the spell of her golden eyes, to swing around and follow where her arm indicated, out over the vista of the gardens to the azure sea and the hazy horizon beyond.
The crazy feeling was back. Affinity. A vision of him and Holly and...
He drew a deep, shaky breath.
“I have a proposition for you.”
“A proposition?”
Ella lifted a hand and nudged her glasses up. If he’d known better he might have thought she was apprehensive. But this was Ella—she didn’t have an apprehensive bone in her body. “Play hooky with me tomorrow.”
That gave him twenty-four hours to decide how to broach the topic they most needed to discuss.
Holly...
“Pardon?” She blinked at him.
“Take the day off—we can take Holly out for the day.” It would be easier with the baby there. “And enjoy the December sun and fresh summer air. It’s almost Christmas, take some time out.”
Her brow creased in a frown. “I have a meeting.”
“Can you postpone it?”
She shook her head slowly. “It’s important.”
“Holly is important—nothing else comes close. In five years’ time will you even remember what this meeting is about? Because Holly will still be important then.”
Ella pushed her glasses up her nose. “I can’t—not tomorrow.”
“No one else can do it?” he persisted, frustrated. This was important—too important to be overshadowed by work.
Ella shook her head again. “I’m the only one who knows all the fine details.”
His frustration bubbled over. “Then you have a problem—you need to learn how to delegate.”
“To whom? No one else—”
“Can do the job as well as you?” He raised an eyebrow.
Ella nodded slowly. “I suppose that’s what I mean.”
“Then you have two problems—maybe more. You’ve surrounded yourself with the wrong people, you’ve failed to train them adequately, you don’t empower your staff by giving them responsibility. Or all of the above.”
“None of the above.” Ella’s teeth snapped shut. She gave him a “take that” look.
Yevgeny narrowed his gaze. “Then you’re guilty of bad planning.”
She made a peculiar sound, and stalked to the end of the veranda, where she stood with her back to him, looking out over the garden. Her shoulders were stiff. In the pause that followed Yevgeny found himself watching her...anticipating her next volley. Until he caught himself.
He padded to where she stood, and her shoulders stiffened. This was not what he wanted. “Ella—” He broke off as heels clicked on the tiles behind him.
The Realtor had returned.
Ella still hadn’t responded. Yevgeny sighed. “You go to your meeting. I’ll take Holly to the park.”
To his surprise, she didn’t object.
“Are you going to put an offer in on this house?” Ella asked too softly for the Realtor to hear, her back still to him.
He nodded, suddenly tired of the dance around the truth, and then realized she couldn’t see his acknowledgement. “Yes,” he said. “This will be my home.”
* * *
Once back at her town house, Ella made a hasty escape on the pretext of checking on the baby, the memory of his unexpected kiss in that wonderful house still numbing her mind.
Ella was in turmoil. Joining Yevgeny for a romp in the park with Holly had been beyond her.
Ella knew that Yevgeny was going to pressure her again.
To try and convince her that he would be the best thing for Holly. She was so confused. Yevgeny offered none of the qualities she wanted in the family who’d adopt Holly.
He was a bachelor. A type-A billionaire. He wasn’t even in a stable relationship. Sure he had a stable full of centerfold supermodels at his disposal, but that was hardly the same thing....
Yet, as she entered the nursery, Ella found herself wondering whether she’d leaped from the frying pan into the fire.
Holly was awake, gurgling happily to herself in the white cot.
Coping with Yevgeny was child’s play compared to this....
“She’s just woken,” Deb told her from the depths of the rocker where she sat surrounded with the Sunday newspapers. “I swear she knew you’d come home. I might go to the kitchen and warm a bottle for her.”
“Thank you.” Moving slowly across the room, Ella paused beside the cot and glanced down at the baby inside.
Holly moved her head...then chuckled.
Ella told herself it wasn’t possible. The baby was too young to be laughing. And she hadn’t spent enough time with Ella to form a bond. The baby couldn’t possibly recognize her...could she?
Yet Ella couldn’t resist.
She bent down and laughed with the baby, an ache in her heart. Her breasts felt hot and tight. Ella tried to convince hersel
f that Deb’s mention of the milk bottle had stimulated the need to express. That was better than the danger of the instinctive age-old maternal response at the sight of her child.
Holly kicked her bare legs in the air, and Ella grasped the perfectly shaped little foot. Her fingertips brushed the soles, and the baby crowed with delight.
“You’re ticklish! I’ve discovered your secret.” She leaned closer and whispered, “Never fear, it will be safe with me.”
Warmth rose within her, fierce and unfamiliar. What spell was Holly weaving about her? Why could she no longer think of the baby without a smile curving her lips? How was she ever going to let the baby go?
This was precisely what she’d fought so desperately to avoid. This...this emotional tug that went all the way to her womb.
As if feeling her straying attention, the baby gurgled and pumped her legs. Ella smiled again but this time there was a tinge of sadness in the smile.
She would not be privy to all Holly’s secrets as she grew up. That would be a role taken by someone else...a woman who could love Holly with all her heart, a mother who wasn’t crippled by fear—and pain.
“I’m going to find you the best mother in the world, I promise.”
She was so intent on the exchange with the baby, that she didn’t sense the arrival of the man in the doorway. Nor did she see him hesitate before exiting, a stormy frown darkening his face.
* * *
The Porsche purred as it swept through the bends along Tamaki Drive. On the right, white sails fluttered in the wind in the bay as locals enjoyed the Sunday summer evening, while across the sea the menacing volcano of Rangitoto Island slumbered.
So Ella was going to find his baby the best mother in the world?
Yevgeny braked and geared down for the next curve. He slowed as a pack of cyclists came into sight, throttling back the powerful engine to a throaty roar.
Ella was still determined to give Holly away to strangers. Despite everything he had done to show her that Holly belonged with him....
Watching as one cyclist cut to the center lane, he dropped farther back. A moment later the bikes were bunched up together again, the cyclists in their bright attire pedaling furiously.
Maybe not everything.