The Secret Baby Bargain

by MELANIE MILBURNE

  Her body was no mystery to him. He had known every crease and tender fold, had explored and tasted every delicacy with relish. Her body remembered with a desperate burning plea for more. She ached for him, inside and out, her emotions caught up in a maelstrom of feeling she had no control over. It was as if the past hadn’t happened; she was his just as she had been all those years ago. He had only to look at her and she would melt into his arms and become whatever he wanted her to become…

  She jerked herself out of his hold with a strength she had not known she was capable of and, thankfully for her, he was totally unprepared for.

  ‘You have no right.’ She clipped the words out past stiff lips. ‘I’m engaged. You have no right to touch me.’

  His eyes raked her mercilessly, his expression hinting at satire. ‘You gave me the right as soon as you looked at me that way.’

  ‘What way?’ She glared at him defensively. ‘I did not look at you in any way!’

  His mouth tilted in a cynical smile. ‘I wonder what your fiancé would say if he saw how you just responded to me?’

  Ashleigh felt as if someone had switched on a radiator behind her cheeks. Guilty colour burnt through her skin, making her feel transparent, as if he could see right through her to where she hid her innermost secrets.

  She had to turn away, her back rigid with fury, as she glared at a painting on the wall in her line of vision.

  ‘Oh, my God…’ She stepped towards the portrait, her eyes growing wide with amazement, incredulity and what only could be described as gobsmacked stupefaction as realisation gradually dawned. Her eyes dipped to look at the signature at the bottom of the painting, even her very fingertips icing up with excitement as she turned around to look at him.

  ‘Do you realise what you have here?’ she asked, her tone breathless with wonder. ‘That painting alone is worth thousands!’

  He gave the painting a dismissive glance and met her eyes once more. ‘You can have it,’ he said. ‘And everything else. There’s more in the other rooms.’

  She stared at him for at least five heavy heartbeats. ‘What?’

  ‘You heard,’ he said. ‘I’m giving it to you to sell; everything in this house.’

  She felt like slapping the side of her head to make sure she wasn’t imagining what she’d just heard. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I said I’m giving you the lot,’ he said.

  She backed away, her instincts warning her that this was not a no-strings deal. ‘Oh, no.’ She held up her hands as if to warn him off. ‘You can’t bribe me with a whole bunch of priceless heirlooms.’

  ‘I’m not bribing you, Ashleigh,’ he said in an even tone. ‘I’m simply giving you a choice.’

  ‘A choice?’ She eyeballed him suspiciously. ‘What sort of choice?’

  His eyes gave nothing away as they held her gaze.

  ‘I told you I wanted to see you again,’ he said. ‘Regularly.’

  Ashleigh’s heart began to gallop behind the wall of her chest. ‘And I told you I can’t…’ She took a prickly breath. ‘Howard and I…’ She couldn’t finish the sentence, the words sticking together in her tightened throat.

  He gave her a cynical little smile that darkened his eyes even further. ‘I don’t think Howard Caule will protest at you spending time with me sorting this house out. In fact, I think he will send you off each day with his blessing.’

  Cold fear leaked into her bloodstream and it took several precious seconds to locate her voice. ‘W-what are you talking about?’

  ‘I want you to spend the next month with me, sorting out my father’s possessions.’

  ‘I can’t do that!’ she squeaked in protest.

  ‘Fine, then.’ He reached for his mobile phone and began punching in some numbers. ‘I’ll call up another antiques dealer I know who will be more than happy to take this lot off me.’ His finger was poised over the last digit as he added, ‘For free.’

  Ashleigh swallowed as he raised the phone to his ear.

  He was giving the lot away? For nothing?

  She couldn’t allow him to do that. It wouldn’t be right. The place was stacked to the rafters with priceless heirlooms. She owed Howard this deal for all he had done for her and Lachlan. She couldn’t back out of it, no matter what it cost her personally.

  ‘No!’ She pulled his arm down so he couldn’t continue the call. ‘Wait… Let me think about this…’

  He pocketed the phone. ‘I’ll give you thirty minutes to think it over. I should at this point make it quite clear that I’m not expecting you to sleep with me.’

  She blinked at him, her tingling fingers falling away from his arm as his words sank in.

  He didn’t want her.

  She knew she should be feeling relief but instead she felt regret. An aching, burning regret that what they’d had before was now gone…

  He continued in an even tone. ‘We parted on such bitter terms four and a half years ago. This is a way for both of us to get some much needed closure.’

  ‘But…but I don’t need closure,’ she insisted. ‘I’m well and truly over you.’

  He held her defiant look with enviable ease while her pulse leapt beneath her skin as she stood uncertainly before him.

  ‘But I do,’ he said.

  Her mouth opened and closed but no sound came out.

  Jake stepped back towards the door, holding it open as he addressed her in a coolly detached tone. ‘I will leave you to make your initial assessment in private. When the thirty minutes are up I’ll be back for your decision.’

  Ashleigh stared at the back of the door once he’d closed it behind him, the echo of its lock clicking into place ringing in her ears for endless minutes.

  A month!

  A month in Jake’s presence, sorting through the house he’d spent his childhood in.

  She turned back around and stared at the fortune of goods in front of her, each and every one of them seeming to conceal a tale about Jake’s past, their secrets locked within the walls of this old neglected house.

  Why was he as good as throwing it all away? What possible reason could he have for doing so? Surely he would want to keep something back for himself? She knew he was a rich man now, but surely even very wealthy people didn’t walk away from a veritable fortune?

  Ashleigh sighed and turned, her eyes meeting those of the subject in the portrait on the wall. She felt a little feather of unease brush over her skin, for it seemed that every time she tried to move out of range of the oil-painted sad eyes they continued to follow her.

  She gave herself a mental shake and rummaged in her bag for her digital camera. The sooner she got started the sooner she would be finished.

  Her stomach gave a little flutter of nerves. There was something about this house that unsettled her and the less time she spent in it the better.

  Especially with Jake here with her…

  Alone…

  CHAPTER THREE

  ONCE she’d taken some preliminary photos Ashleigh left the overcrowded room for some much needed air and found herself wandering down the long passage, her thoughts flying off in all directions.

  This was Jake’s childhood home, the place where he had been raised, but for some reason it didn’t seem to her to be the sort of house where a child would be particularly welcome.

  This house seemed to be almost seeping with the wounds of neglect; the walls spoke of it with their faded peeling paint, the floorboards with their protesting creaks, as if her very tread had caused them discomfort as she moved across their tired surface. She could sense it in the woodwork of the furniture, the heavy layer of dust lying over every surface speaking of long-term disregard. And she could feel it in the reflection of the dust-speckled glass at the windows, the crumpled drape of the worn curtains looking as if they were doing their best to shield the house’s secrets from the rest of the quiet conservative street.

  Ashleigh had never considered herself a particularly intuitive person. That had been Ellie’s role
in the Forrester family, but somehow, being in Jake’s childhood home made her realise things about him that had escaped her notice before.

  He hated the darkness.

  Why hadn’t she ever noticed the significance of that before?

  He had always been the first one to turn on the lights when they got home, insisting the blinds be pulled up even when the sunlight was too strong and disrupted the television or computer screen.

  He’d hated loud music with a passion, particularly classical music. She couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t come in and snapped her music off, glaring at her furiously, telling her it was too loud for the neighbours and why wasn’t she being more responsible?

  What did it all mean?

  She opened another door off the hall and stepped inside. Some pinpricks of light were shining through the worn blinds, giving the room an eerie atmosphere, the dust motes disturbed by the movement of air as the door opened rising in front of her face like a myriad miniature apparitions.

  The air was stuffy and close but she could see as she turned on the nearest light that it was some sort of study-cum-library, two banks of bookshelves lining the walls from floor to ceiling.

  She moved across the old carpet to examine some of the titles, her eyes widening at the age of some of them nearest her line of vision.

  Jake’s father had sure known how to collect valuable items, she mused as she reached for what looked like a first edition of Keats’s poems.

  She put the book back amongst the others and turned to look around the rest of the room. The solid cedar desk was littered with papers as if someone working there had been interrupted and hadn’t returned to put things in order. She picked up the document nearest her and found it was a financial statement from a firm of investors, the value of the portfolio making her head spin.

  She heard a sound behind her and turned to see Jake standing in the frame of the door, his dark gaze trained on her.

  Her time was up.

  She put the paper back down on the desk, her mouth suddenly dry and uncooperative when there was so much she wanted to ask him before she committed herself to the task he had assigned her.

  ‘Jake… I … I don’t know what to say.’ She waved a weak hand to encompass the contents of the room, the house and the sense of unease she’d felt as she’d moved through each part but not really knowing why.

  ‘What’s to say?’ he said, moving into the room. ‘My father died a very rich man.’

  She gave a small frown as she recalled their conversation at his hotel the day before. ‘I thought you intimated he left you nothing in his will?’

  His eyes held hers for a brief moment before moving away. He wandered over to the big desk and, pulling out the throne-like chair, sat down, one ankle across his thigh, his hands going behind his head as he leaned backwards.

  ‘He left me nothing I particularly wanted,’ he answered.

  Her teeth caught her bottom lip for a moment, her eyes falling away from the mysterious depths of his.

  ‘But…we’re not talking about a few old kitchen utensils and second-hand books here, Jake. This place is worth a fortune. The house itself on current market value would be enough to set anyone up for life, let alone the contents I’ve seen so far.’

  ‘I’m not getting rid of the house, just what’s inside it,’ he informed her.

  ‘You plan to live here?’ She stared at him in surprise.

  He unfolded his leg and stood up, his sudden increase in height making her feel small and vulnerable in the overcrowded space of the room.

  ‘I have set up a branch of my company here in Sydney. I plan to spend half the year in England and the other half here.’

  She moistened her mouth. ‘But you told me earlier you’ve always hated this house.’

  ‘I do.’ He gave her another inscrutable look. ‘But that’s not to say it can’t have a serious makeover and be the sort of home it should have been in the first place. I’m looking forward to doing it, actually.’

  Ashleigh knew there was a wealth of information behind his words but she wasn’t sure she was up to the task of asking him exactly what he meant. After all, hadn’t he been the one who’d insisted on living in a low maintenance one-bedroom apartment when they had lived in London? Whatever was he going to do with a house this size, which looked as if it had at least ten bedrooms, several formal rooms, including a ballroom, not to mention an extensive front and back garden with a tennis court thrown in for good measure?

  ‘It seems a bit…a bit big for a man who…’ She let her words trail away when he moved towards her.

  ‘For a man who what, Ashleigh?’ he asked, picking up a strand of her shoulder-length hair and coiling it gently around his finger.

  She swallowed as her scalp tingled at the gentle intimate tether of his finger in her hair, her heart missing a beat as his darker-than-night eyes secured hers.

  ‘You’re…you’re a c-confirmed bachelor,’ she reminded him, her tone far more breathy than she’d intended. ‘No wife, no kids, no encumbrances, remember?’

  His mouth lifted at one corner. ‘You don’t think it’s possible for people to change a little over time?’

  Her heart gave another hard thump as she considered the most likely possibilities for his change of heart.

  Perhaps he’d met someone…someone who was so perfect for him he couldn’t bear to live without her and was prepared to have her on any terms, even marriage—the formal state he had avoided so determinedly in the past.

  She couldn’t get the question past the blockage in her throat, but her mind tortured her by conjuring up an image of him standing at an altar with a beautiful bride stepping slowly towards him, his eyes alight with desire as the faceless woman drifted closer and closer to finally take his outstretched hand…

  Jake uncoiled her hair but didn’t move away.

  Ashleigh tried to step backwards but her back and shoulders came up against the solid frame of the bookshelves. The old books shuffled on their shelves behind her and, imagining them about to tumble down all over her, she carefully edged away a fraction, but it brought her too close to Jake.

  Way too close.

  ‘W-what’s…what’s changed your mind?’ she asked, surprised her voice came out sounding almost normal considering she couldn’t inflate her lungs properly.

  He stepped away from her and, picking up an old gold pen off the desk, began to twirl it in his fingers, his face averted from hers. It seemed to Ashleigh a very long time before he spoke.

  ‘I have spent some time since my father’s death thinking about my life. I want to make some changes now, changes I just wasn’t ready to face before.’ He put the pen down and faced her, his mouth twisted in a little rueful smile. ‘It might sound strange to you, but you’re the first person I’ve trusted enough to tell this to.’

  Ashleigh felt her guilt claw at her insides with accusing fingers, sure if he looked too closely he would see the evidence of her betrayal splashed over her features.

  She had kept from him the birth of his son.

  What sort of trustworthiness had that demonstrated?

  Jake turned away again as he continued heavily, ‘But four and a half years ago I just wasn’t ready.’ He raked a hand through his hair. ‘I guess I’m only doing it now because my father is dead and buried.’ He gave a humourless grunt of laughter and looked back at her. ‘It’s that closure I spoke of earlier.’

  ‘So…’ she ran her tongue over her desert-dry mouth ‘…have you changed your mind about…marriage?’

  ‘I have given it some considerable thought,’ he admitted, his eyes giving nothing away.

  ‘What about the…the other things you were always so adamant about?’ At his enquiring look she added, ‘Kids, pets, that sort of thing.’

  She picked up the faint sound of his breath being released as he turned to look out of the window over the huge back garden, the solid wall of his tall muscled frame instantly reminding her of an impenetrable fortress
.

  ‘No,’ he said, reverting to the same flat emotionless tone he’d used earlier. ‘I haven’t changed my mind about that. I don’t want children. Ever.’

  Ashleigh felt the full force of his words as if he had punched them right through the tender flesh of her belly where his child had been curled for nine months. She hadn’t realised how much she had hoped for a different answer until he’d given the one she’d most dreaded.

  He didn’t want children.

  He never wanted children.

  How could she tell him about his little son now?

  Jake turned round to look at her. ‘Have you decided to take me up on my offer, Ashleigh?’ he asked.

  ‘I—I need more time…’

  ‘Sorry.’ The hard glance he sent her held no trace of apology. ‘Take it or leave it. If you want to have this stuff then you’ll have to fulfil my terms. A month working nine to five in this house—alongside me.’

  Panic set up an entire percussion section in Ashleigh’s chest, the sickening thuds making her feel faint and the palms of her hands sticky with sweat.

  ‘I—I don’t usually work nine to five,’ she said, avoiding his eyes.

  ‘Oh, really?’ There was a hint of surprise in his tone. ‘Why ever not?’

  ‘Howard doesn’t like the thought of me working full-time,’ she said, pleased with her response as it was as close to the truth as she could get.

  ‘And you agreed to that?’

  ‘I…’ She lifted her chin a fraction. ‘Yes. It frees me to do…other things.’

  ‘What other things do you like doing?’

  Ashleigh knew she had backed herself into a tight corner and the only way out of it was to lie. She averted her gaze once more and inspected a figurine near her with avid intent. ‘I go to the gym.’

  ‘The gym?’ His tone was nothing short of incredulous.

  Her chin went a bit higher as she met his eyes again. ‘What are you saying, Jake? That I look unfit as well as fat?’

  He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. ‘Hey, did I ever say you were fat?’

  She threw him a resentful look and folded her arms across her chest. ‘Yesterday when we met you said I’d put on weight. In my book that means you think I’m fat.’