A Tangled Affair

by Fiona Brand

  * * *

  When Carla woke in the morning, the headache was still nagging, and she was definitely off-color. She stepped into the shower and washed her hair. When she’d soaped herself, she stood beneath the stream of hot water and waited to feel better.

  She spread her palm over her flat abdomen, a sense of disorientation gripping her when she considered that she could be pregnant.

  A baby.

  The thought was as shocking as the fact that she had been weak enough to allow Lucas to make love to her.

  If she was pregnant, she decided, there was no way she could terminate. She loved babies, the way they smelled, their downy softness and vulnerability, the gummy smiles—and she would adore her own.

  Decision made. If—and it was a big if—she was pregnant she would have the child and manage as a single parent. Lucas wouldn’t have to be involved. There was no way she would marry him without love, or exist in some kind of twilight state in his life that would allow him discreet access while he married someone else.

  Turning off the water, she toweled herself dry, belted on a robe and padded down to breakfast. Her stomach felt vaguely nauseous and she wasn’t hungry, but she forced herself to chew one of the sweet Medinian rolls she had enjoyed so much yesterday.

  Half an hour later, she checked on Sienna, who was smothered by attendants, then dressed for the wedding in an exquisite lilac-silk sheath. She sat for the hairdresser, who turned her hair into a glossy confection of curls piled on top of her head, then moved to another room where a cosmetician chatted cheerfully while she did her makeup.

  Several hours later, with the wedding formalities finally completed and the dancing under way, she was finally free to leave her seat at the bridal table. Technically, as the maid of honor, her partner for the celebration was Lucas, who was the best man. Mercifully, he was seated to one side of the bride and groom, and she the other, so she had barely seen him all evening.

  As she rose from the table and found the strap of her purse, which was looped over the back of her seat, lean brown fingers closed over hers, preventing her from lifting up the bag.

  A short, sharp shock ran through her at the pressure. Lucas released his hold on her fingers almost immediately.

  He indicated Constantine and Sienna drifting around the dance floor. “I know you probably don’t want to dance, but tradition demands that we take the floor next.”

  She glanced away from the taut planes of his cheekbones and his chiseled jaw, the inky crescents of his lashes. In a morning suit, with its tight waistcoat, he looked even more devastatingly handsome than usual. “And is that what you do?” she said a little bitterly. “Follow tradition?”

  Lucas waited patiently for her to acquiesce to the dance. “You know me better than that.”

  Yes, she did, unfortunately. As wealthy and privileged as Lucas was, he had done a number of unconventional things. One of them was to play professional rugby. Her gaze rested on the faintly battered line of his nose. An automatic tingle of awareness shot through her at the dangerous, sexy edge it added to features that would otherwise have been GQ perfect.

  His gaze locked on hers and, as suddenly as if a switch had been thrown, the sizzling hum of attraction was intimately, crazily shared.

  Her breath came in sharply. Not good.

  Aware that they were now under intense scrutiny from guests at a nearby table, including Lilah, Carla placed her hand on Lucas’s arm and allowed him to lead her to the dance floor.

  Lucas’s breath feathered her cheek as he pulled her close. “How likely is it that you are pregnant?”

  She stiffened at the sudden hot flood of memory. On cue the music changed, slowing to a sultry waltz. Lucas pulled her into a closer hold. Heat shivered through her as her body automatically responded to his touch. “Not likely.”

  Since the virus she had caught in Thailand she hadn’t had a regular cycle, mostly because, initially, she had lost so much weight. She had regained some of the weight but she hadn’t yet had a period. Although she wasn’t about to inform Lucas of that fact.

  “How soon will you know?”

  “I’m not sure. Two weeks, give or take.”

  “When you find out, one way or the other, I want to be informed, but that shouldn’t be a problem. As of next week, I’m Ambrosi’s new CEO.”

  She stumbled, missing a step. Lucas’s arm tightened and she found herself briefly pressed against his muscular frame. Jerkily, she straightened, her cheeks burning at the intimate brush of his hips, a stark reminder of their lovemaking last night. “I thought Ben Vitalis was stepping in as CEO.”

  Lucas’s specialty was managing hostile acquisitions. Since her family, embattled by long-term debt, had voluntarily offered The Atraeus Group a majority shareholding of Ambrosi Pearls, the situation was cut-and-dried. Lucas shouldn’t have come within a mile of Ambrosi.

  Unless he viewed her as a problem.

  Her chin jerked up as another thought occurred to her. “You told Constantine about us.”

  His brows jerked together. “No.”

  Relief flooded her. The thought that Lucas could have revealed their relationship now, when it was over, would have finally succeeded in making her feel cheap and disposable.

  She drew in a steadying breath. “When was the decision made?”

  “A few weeks ago, when we knew Ambrosi was in trouble.”

  “It’s not necessary for you to come to Sydney. In the unlikely event that there is a baby, I will contact you.”

  His glance was impatient. “The decision is made.”

  She drew an impeded breath at the sudden graphic image of herself round and heavy with his child. She didn’t think a pregnancy was possible, but clearly Lucas did.

  The music wound to a sweeping, romantic halt. There was a smattering of applause. Carla allowed Lucas to complete the formalities by leading her off the dance floor.

  The rest of the evening passed in a haze. Carla danced with several men she didn’t know, and twice with Alex Panopoulos, an Ambrosi client she’d had extensive dealings with in Sydney. The wealthy owner of a successful chain of high-end retail stores, Alex was a reptile when it came to women. He was also in need of a public relations officer for a new venture and spent the first dance fishing to see if she was available. Halfway through the second dance, Lucas cut in.

  His gaze clashed with hers as he spun her into a sweeping turn. “Damn. What are you doing with Panopoulos?”

  “Nothing that’s any of your business. Why? Do you think I’m in danger of meeting a man who might actually propose?”

  “Alex Panopoulos is a shrewd operator. When he marries, there will be a business connection.”

  She stared at the clean line of his jaw. “Are you suggesting that all he wants is an affair?”

  His grip on her fingers tightened. “I have no idea what Panopoulos wants. All I know is that when it comes to women he doesn’t have a very savory reputation.”

  “I’m surprised you think I need protection.”

  “Trust me, you don’t want to get involved with Panopoulos.”

  Dragging free of his gaze, she stared at the muscular column of his throat. “Maybe he wanted something from me that has nothing to do with sex? Besides, you’re wasting your breath trying to protect me. From now on, who I choose to be with is none of your business.”

  “It is if you’re pregnant.”

  The flash of possessive heat in his gaze and the tightening of his hold finally succeeded in making her lose her temper. “I might have some say in that.”

  Five

  Lucas leaned against the wall in a dim alcove, arms folded over his chest as he observed the final formality of the wedding, the throwing of the bouquet.

  Zane joined him, shifting through the shadows with the fluid ease that was more a by-product of his time spent on the streets of L.A. than of the strict, conventional upbringing he’d received on Medinos. He nodded at Carla, who was part of a cluster of young women gathered on the dan
ce floor. “Not your finest hour. But, if you hadn’t rescued her, I was thinking of doing it myself.”

  “Touch Carla,” Lucas said softly, “and you lose your hand.”

  Zane took a swallow of beer. “Thought so.”

  Lucas eyed his younger brother with irritation. Four years difference and he felt like Methuselah. “How long have you known?”

  “About a year, give or take.”

  The bouquet arced through the air straight into Carla’s hands. Lucas’s jaw tightened as she briskly handed it to one of the pretty young flower girls and detached herself from the noisy group. She made a beeline for her table, picked up the lilac clutch that went with her dress, and made her way out of the castello’s ballroom.

  Lucas glanced at Zane. “Do me a favor and look after Lilah for me for the rest of the evening.”

  Zane’s expression registered rare startlement. “Let me get this right, you won’t let me near Carla, but with Lilah it’s okay?”

  Lucas frowned at his turn of phrase, but his attention was focused on the elegant line of Carla’s back. “The party’s almost over. An hour, max.”

  “That long.”

  Impatiently, he studied the now empty hallway. “She’ll need a ride back to the villa.”

  “Not a problem. Aunts at six o’clock.” With a jerk of his chin, indicating direction, Zane snagged his beer and made a swift exit.

  Pushing away from the wall, Lucas started after Carla, and found himself the recipient of a shrewd glance from his mother and steely speculation from a gaggle of silver-haired great-aunts.

  He groaned inwardly, annoyed that he had dropped his guard enough that not only Zane but his mother had become aware of his interest in Carla. The last thing he needed was his mother interfering in his love life.

  Seconds later, he traversed the vaulted hallway and stepped outside onto the graveled driveway just as the sound of Constantine and Sienna’s departing helicopter cut the air.

  The sun was gone, the night thick with stars, but heat still flowed out of the sunbaked soil as he strode toward Carla. The ambient temperature was still hot enough that he felt uncomfortable in his suit jacket.

  A stiff sea breeze was blowing, tugging strands loose from the rich, dark coils piled on top of Carla’s head, making her look sexily disheveled. The breeze also plastered her dress against her body, emphasizing just how much weight she had lost.

  His frown deepened. A regular gym bunny, Carla had always been fit and toned, with firm but definite curves. The curves were still there but if he didn’t miss his guess she had dropped at least a dress size. After the virus she had picked up in Thailand, weight loss was understandable, but she should have regained it by now.

  She spun when she heard the crunch of gravel beneath his shoes. A small jolt went through him when he registered the blankness of her gaze.

  Carla didn’t do sad. She had always been confident, sassy and adept at using her feminine power to the max. For Carla, masculine conquest was as natural as breathing. He had assumed that when their relationship was at an end she would have a lineup of prospective boyfriends eager to fill the gap.

  In that moment it hit him forcibly that as similar as Carla was to Sophie with her job and her lifestyle, there were some differences. Sophie had been immature and self-centered, while Carla was fiercely loyal to her sister and her family, to the point of putting her own needs aside so as not to hurt Sienna. Even though that loyalty had clashed with what he had wanted, he had respected it. It also occurred to him that in her own way, Carla had been fiercely loyal to him. She had dated other men, but only ever in a business context for Ambrosi Pearls.

  Broodingly, he considered the fact that Carla had been a virgin the first time they had made love, that she had never slept with anyone but him. He realized he had conveniently pushed the knowledge aside because it hadn’t fitted the picture of Carla he had wanted to see.

  He had been the one who had held back and played it safe, not Carla, and now the sheer intimacy of their situation kept hitting him like a kick to the chest.

  He should let her go, but the shattering fact that he could have made her pregnant had changed something vital in his hard drive.

  They were linked, at least until he had ascertained whether or not she was carrying his child. Despite his need to end the relationship, he couldn’t help but feel relieved about that fact. “The limousines are gone. If you want a lift, I’ll drive you.”

  “That won’t be necessary.” Carla extracted a cell phone from her clutch. “I’ll get a taxi.”

  “Unless you’ve prebooked, with all the guests on Medinos for the wedding, you’ll have difficulty getting one tonight.”

  She frowned as she flipped the phone closed and slipped it back in her clutch. “Then I’ll ask Constantine.”

  He jerked his head in the direction of the helicopter, which was rapidly turning into a small dot on the horizon. “Constantine is on honeymoon. I’ll take you.”

  Her glare was pointed. “I don’t understand what you’re doing out here. Shouldn’t you be looking after your new girlfriend?”

  “Zane’s taking care of Lilah.” Before she could argue, he cupped her elbow and steered her in the direction of the castello’s stable of garages.

  She jerked free of his hold. “Why doesn’t Zane take me home and you go and take care of Lilah?”

  His jaw clamped. “Do you want the lift or not?”

  She stared at a point somewhere just left of his shoulder. Enough time passed that his temper began to spiral out of control.

  Carla shrugged. “I’ll accept a lift because I need one, but please don’t touch me again.”

  “I wasn’t trying to ‘touch’ you.”

  Her gaze connected with his, shooting blue fire. “I know what you were doing. The same thing you tried to do on the dance floor. Save it for Lilah.”

  He suppressed the cavemanlike urge to simply pick her up and carry her to the car. “You don’t look well. What’s wrong with you?”

  “Nothing that a good night’s sleep won’t fix.” Her gaze narrowed. “Why don’t you say what’s really bothering you? That, with all the paparazzi still on the loose, you can’t take the risk that I might give them a story? And I think we both know that I could give them quite a story, an exposé of the real Lucas—”

  Lucas gave in to the caveman urge and picked her up. “Did I mention the paparazzi?”

  She thumped his shoulder with her beaded purse. “Let me down!”

  Obligingly, he set her down by the passenger door of the Maserati. He jerked the door open. “Get in. If you try to run I’ll come after you.”

  “There has to be a law against this.” But she climbed into the sleek leather bucket seat.

  “On Medinos?” Despite his temper, Lucas’s mouth twitched as he slid behind the wheel and turned the key in the ignition. For the first time in two months he felt oddly content. “Not for an Atraeus.”

  * * *

  Carla’s tension skyrocketed when, instead of responding to her request and parking out on the street, Lucas drove into the cobbled driveway of the villa. At that point, he insisted on taking the house key from her and unlocked the door. When she attempted to close the door on him, he simply stepped past her and walked into the small, elegant house, switching on lights.

  A narky little tension headache throbbing at her temples, Carla made a beeline for the bathroom, filled the glass on the counter with water and took her pills. Refilling the glass, she sat down on the edge of the bath and sipped, waiting to feel better.

  A sharp rap on the bathroom door made her temper soar. She had hoped Lucas would take the hint and leave, but apparently he was still in the house. Replacing the glass on the counter, she checked her appearance then unlocked the door and stepped out into the hall.

  He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. She tried not to notice that, though he was still wearing his jacket, his tie and waistcoat were gone and several buttons of his shirt
were undone revealing a mouthwatering slice of bronzed skin. “I’m fine now. You can leave.”

  She stepped past him and headed for the front door. Her spine tightened as Lucas followed too close behind, and she remembered what had happened the last time they had been alone together.

  Note to self, she thought grimly as he peeled off into the sitting room and picked up his tie and waistcoat, do not allow yourself to be alone with Lucas again.

  Opening the front door, she stood to one side, allowing him plenty of space. “Thank you for the lift.”

  He paused at the open door, making her aware of his height, the width of his shoulders, the power and vitality that seemed to burn from him. “Maybe you should see a doctor.”

  “If I need medical help, I’ll get it for myself.” She glanced pointedly at her wristwatch, resisting the urge to squint because one of the annoying symptoms of the headache now seemed to be that her eyes were ultrasensitive to light.

  Not good. Her doctor had warned her that stress could cause a viral relapse. With her father’s funeral, Sienna’s wedding and the breakup with Lucas, she was most definitely under stress.

  His hand landed on the wall beside her head. Suddenly he was close enough that his heat engulfed her, and his clean, faintly exotic scent filled her nostrils.

  Grimly, she resisted the impulse to take the half step needed, wrap her arms around his neck and melt into a good-night kiss that would very likely turn into something else. “Um, shouldn’t you be getting back to Lilah?”

  For the briefest of moments he hesitated. His gaze dropped to her mouth and despite the tiredness that pulled at her, she found herself holding her breath, awareness humming through every cell of her being.

  He let out a breath. “We can’t do this again.”

  “No.” But it had been an effort to say that one little word, and humiliation burned through her that, despite everything, she was still weak enough to want him.

  His hand closed into a fist beside her head, then he was gone, the door closing gently behind him.

  Carla leaned her forehead against the cool cedar of the door, her face burning.