by Robyn Grady
“Jenna, we need to get something out in the open. Two people know when they’re sexually compatible. We were compatible then. We still are now. It would be crazy to deny it. And, yes, we will need to show affection in public. But I won’t take advantage of the situation.”
Naturally he wanted her, but that could only happen if she wanted him, too. And not out of comfort from grieving, or impossible dreams of happy families, but from a mutual hunger that deserved to be satisfied, once…possibly twice. That was the limit. That would be safe.
Calm, mingled with curiosity, washed over her face. “You’re a complicated man, Gage Cameron.”
“That’s where people come unstuck.” He grinned. “I’m easy to work out.”
He imagined his palm sliding down over her curves, his head lowering and insides smoldering as his mouth captured hers. She was frightened, filled with pain and a desperate need for reassurance. How easy it would be to meet her lips and give her some relief.
He bit down and moved away.
Time to go.
“I can get things underway tomorrow,” he said, almost to the door. “I’ll collect you at ten.”
“Gage?”
He turned back.
“I’m not sure I won’t regret this, but…” She hesitated then slowly smiled. “Thank you.”
He nodded and left, the dog trotting at his heels.
When Jenna had what she needed—when there was no question—he would walk away, just as he was walking away now. Because her father had been right. Long term he was bad for her.
Hell, too close for too long, he was bad for anyone.
Three
The next day Jenna accepted Gage’s hand and let him help her out from his black imported coupe onto the sidewalk that surrounded her stepmother’s apartment building. Peering up at the top floor, she sucked in a nervous breath and straightened her conservative, pale blue dress.
She hated conservative. A T-shirt and jeans suited her far better. But denim would look decidedly out of place today alongside Gage’s craftsman-cut suit. Not that his long, powerful legs wouldn’t still look exceptional in faded hip-riding Levi’s. Whenever she’d seen him during that summer long ago, hunched over the open bonnet of his eighties model Ford—his broad, bare back glistening and brown—she’d practically melted.
“We don’t need to do this today.” He placed a warm palm between her shoulder blades. “You can give yourself another day or two.”
His words, and touch, almost melted her now. And after yesterday, when he’d stood so close and had spoken about affection in public and sexual compatibility, she was certain any significant physical contact between them would be as dangerous as ever. Yet, for the sake of authenticity leading up to their “marriage,” he’d made it clear they needed to play, and play well, at being lovers.
So how soon before he brought her close to him? How soon before they kissed?
“After hearing your lawyer’s advice half an hour ago,” she said, forcing herself to focus, “seeing Leeann sooner is definitely better than later.”
He walked in step beside her. “Lance sounded more than optimistic about our chances.”
She clutched her handbag to her chest. Her stomach was a constantly churning ball of nerves. “I’m not sure he bought the reunited lovers story.”
She wasn’t any more certain Leeann would. Jenna loathed being deceived and hated deceiving anyone else. But as Gage had pointed out, these were desperate times. And the next few weeks weren’t to benefit herself but her niece. Despite the guardianship directive, in her heart she knew Amy would have given more than her blessing—she’d have been cheering her on every step of the way.
Gage sent her a lopsided trust me smile that made Jenna’s heart skip a beat. “My lawyer isn’t the one who counts. We need to convince Leeann that we’re serious and she’s in for one hell of a fight if she doesn’t consent to handing Meg over. She’ll back down.”
Jenna wasn’t so sure. “Leeann had three miscarriages early on. I can’t see her simply handing over what she wants more than anything.” She glared straight ahead. “All the better if she thought it hurt me.”
He swung open the building’s pedestrian gate and ushered her through. “Leeann can be a possessive and spiteful woman.”
Curious, she stepped under the bridge of his arm into the neat sandstone courtyard. “I didn’t realize you knew her that well.”
“I know enough.”
Possessive…spiteful. Could he really help her get custody of Meg from Leeann? Jenna knew where her niece belonged, and not purely because she was kin. She’d never liked or trusted Leeann. Her skin crawled to think of Amy’s daughter growing up with a woman who’d reminded her of a prickly, well-dressed praying mantis. She wondered how her father had ever fallen in love with such a woman when her mother had been so sweet and giving—so much like Amy.
They stopped before the building intercom. He gazed down at her, one imperious eyebrow raised. “You ready?”
“No,” she replied. “Are you?”
He grinned, slow and sexy. “I’m looking forward to it.”
While he buzzed, Jenna wrung her purse and told herself to breathe, just breathe. It didn’t help. Would all this subterfuge blow up in her face? Could this hurt her chances with Meg rather than help?
Perhaps she needed more time to think it over.
“Maybe we should have called,” she reasoned, “to let her know we were coming.”
“No. We should let her enjoy the surprise.”
Like the way he’d surprised her yesterday, by showing up unannounced then suggesting they get married? Gage had let her know that he had no intention of finishing what they’d started all those years ago: he didn’t plan to seduce her. A big part of her—the pride-filled part—rejoiced. She’d been a fragile teenager when he’d left her love for him high and dry; she hadn’t thought she would ever recover.
Yet a more reckless side remembered the feel of his hard, hot chest, the way his shadowed jaw had grazed a delicious path along her skin. What would it be like to enjoy the penetrating pleasure of his kiss again? Would it feel different now that they were older?
The intercom clicked and Leeann’s voice purred out. “I’m busy. Come back later.”
Gage leant closer. “Mrs. Darley, this is Gage Cameron. I’m with Jenna. May we come up? We won’t take more than a few minutes of your time.”
A torturous silence stretched out. Jenna imagined her stepmother’s mind spinning at the name from the past, connecting it with “multimillionaire” then wondering why the heck he was troubling her almost two weeks after her husband’s death.
The intercom snapped again. “I really am stretched for time.”
Jenna set her teeth. She was so over Leeann’s lady-of-the-house routine. She’d been over it years ago. Today, for her niece’s sake, she wouldn’t tolerate it.
She spoke directly at the grill. “We’ve come to see Meg.”
Large hands on Jenna’s shoulders tugged her back. Gage’s slight frown said, I’ll handle this. “Mrs. Darley, I’m on a tight schedule, too. We would appreciate a few moments.”
Jenna had all but given up when the door buzzed, and her high-strung nerves loosened a knot. Gage shouldered the jamb and swept Jenna inside the building. At the lift, he punched the up arrow.
Threading his hands before him, he gazed at the light passing down the floors—so cool—while she felt ready to dissolve like a sandcastle smashed by a succession of waves. But this morning, whenever her mind had funneled down into grief-stricken thoughts over losing her father and sister, she’d ordered herself to think only of Meg. More resolute than ever, she did that now.
Beside her, Gage rocked back on his heels. “Why did you cut your hair?”
His question threw her. She looked over at his classically chiseled profile—the straight nose and firm jaw angled up as he watched the lift light blink down.
“I’m sorry,” she stammered, “what did you just say?�
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He looked at her, the same way he had yesterday—evaluating, wondering. Dangerous and sultry. “When I left, your hair was a thick wavy river down your back.”
What on earth?
Gathering herself, she forced her eyes away from his and dead ahead. “Most places I stay don’t have dryers. It was difficult to manage.”
“It was beautiful.”
The breath caught in her chest. Was he doing this deliberately—putting her off-guard, now of all times? Or was he setting the mood for their performance in front of Leeann? Either explanation made her less than comfortable. In fact, it made her highly uncomfortable.
She blew a wave off her damp forehead and concentrated on the cold metallic doors. “My hair isn’t important.”
“I liked when you wore it out, wild and tangled.”
“It’s much easier tame and shorter.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him appraise her, from crown to toe, before he peered back at the lift light. “You should let it grow.”
Heat consumed her cheeks. Feeling herself being towed away, Jenna briefly closed her eyes and tried to tamp down images of him curled over her, his hands in her hair—long, short…what did it matter? Making love with Gage would be ecstasy any way it came.
The lift doors whirred open. They stepped inside and traveled to the top floor in simmering silence. The space seemed way too small to accommodate her, him and the electric charge humming between them.
When the lift stopped, she strode out a step ahead then had to tell her heart to quit thumping all over again. Leeann was parked in the doorway of what had been, only a handful of days before, her father’s apartment.
Jenna had always disliked the beauty mark that sat on the steeple of Leeann’s left eyebrow. She detested it more now as that eyebrow lifted along with her stepmother’s intrigued smile.
Leeann spoke to Gage. “Well, you’ve grown up.”
“In every way that counts.” Gage linked an arm around Jenna’s waist and moved them both forward.
Jenna was normally a patient person, but she didn’t want to waste time on pleasantries now. As they crossed the threshold onto white Italian marble surrounded by sumptuous furnishings, as politely as she could, she came right to the point.
“Where’s Meg?”
After closing the door, Leeann led them into the living room that boasted a panoramic view of the glistening blue harbour and majestic giant shells of Sydney’s Opera House. Her father’s portrait hung on the far wall and the bonsai plant her mother had given him the year she’d passed away sat on the wet bar. The leaves were tinged brown.
“You should have called and let me know you were coming,” Leeann explained, her voice saccharine sweet. “The baby’s out, I’m afraid, getting some fresh air with the nanny. She’s a woman with impeccable qualifications and references. Expensive, but my granddaughter deserves the best.”
“So, you’re not caring for Meg yourself?”
Jenna’s gaze snapped over to Gage and she smiled. Good question.
“Given that I don’t have any firsthand experience with infants,” Leeann replied a little stiffly, “I wasn’t too proud to seek assistance.” She brought her hands together, a terminating gesture. “I’d offer you refreshments, but I have an appointment with my lawyer in an hour.”
Jenna’s lip curled at the same kind of dismissal she’d heard from this woman too often in the past. Then she noticed something out of place—a jacket lying over a dining room chair. A heavy jacket…leather. Big.
She moved toward it, assessed the jacket, then Leeann. “Unless his tastes changed radically, this didn’t belong to my father.” It smelled of oil or grease.
Leeann stood very still, as if she were holding her breath. “That belongs to the nanny.”
“Don’t nannies wear pinafores and carry umbrellas?” Jenna asked skeptically.
Leeann manufactured a laugh and patted her blond chignon. “I meant the nanny’s boyfriend.”
Somebody’s boyfriend, Jenna thought, but not the nanny’s. Seemed it hadn’t taken Leeann long to fill her poor father’s shoes.
Her chest constricted.
Or perhaps Leeann had been seeing someone on the side all along.
Leeann swung her attention to Gage. “I presume you made the journey to pay your respects to my husband. A little late for the ceremony, I’m afraid.”
Gage nodded. “Jenna’s father was very generous to me.”
Leeann’s green eyes lowered even as they gleamed. “And to me.”
A weak mewling leaked out from behind a partly closed bedroom door. Jenna stilled, heard it again, then held her stomach. Meg.
A fierce protective instinct surged up and she pushed past Leeann into the room. In the darkened far corner stood a cot, pretty with lace and a hanging mobile of colorful clowns. Tiny fists waved above the mattress and the crying grew louder.
Heart squeezing, Jenna rushed to the cot.
Leaning over the rail, she carefully scooped the baby out and cradled her close. Meg hiccupped out another cry, but her big blue eyes, wet with tears, opened to gaze into Jenna’s. Did the baby recognize her? Did Meg think she was her mother?
For the most part, Leeann had made Meg unavailable for one reason or another, although she had been uncommonly generous the day of the funeral; Jenna had held her niece right through the service and afterward at the wake. But that day Jenna had been in a different zone, barely functioning. Now, however, she felt the connection between them as if she’d been zapped by lightning—strong, bright and formidable.
Tucking Meg close, Jenna breathed in the scent of powder and felt the deep-rooted knowledge of kinship. “It’s okay, sweetie.” As the crying petered out, she smiled softly down as her throat thickened. “You look so much like your mother.”
Behind her, she sensed Gage’s towering presence, then heard the comforting rumble of his voice near her ear. “And her aunt.”
From the rear of the room, Leeann made her excuse. “I’d just put her down and didn’t want her disturbed. I wasn’t sure you’d understand.”
You’re right, Jenna thought. I don’t.
But she kept those comments to herself. Leeann’s explanation might be embarrassingly lame, but Jenna didn’t want anything upsetting the baby again.
In the absence of a challenge, Leeann went on. “She’s sleeping through the night now. Amy used to speak often about what songs Meg liked to hear, the nightlight she preferred left on. Amy might have told you, too, Jenna…over the phone or in a letter.” Her voice crept closer. “When did you say you were heading back overseas?”
Jenna curled a finger around Meg’s silken cheek. “I’m not.”
She smiled at the baby gripping her finger as well as Leeann’s stunned silence. In the past she’d never gotten the upper hand as far as this woman was concerned. That’s why she’d left home so soon after finishing college. No matter the disagreement—bar two—her father had sided with his new wife. He’d valued their marriage, as he’d valued Jenna’s mother until her death. He’d told his daughter he didn’t want any upsets in the family home, then had asked why she couldn’t simply be polite and get along.
Her father couldn’t understand that Leeann had seen his strong-willed daughter as a threat. When they were alone, Leeann had made it clear there was room for only one mistress in the Darley household. The frosty glares, the subtle yet painful barbs…Having been brought up by a quiet and gentle woman, Jenna hadn’t known how to handle a female relationship based on rivalry. In the end, she’d handled it by throwing up her hands and walking away.
But she wouldn’t walk away from this fight.
“Wasn’t there an assignment,” Leeann stammered, “in Italy? You mentioned it at the funeral…”
Gage blocked Leeann’s progress toward Jenna. “She declined that assignment. Although we have talked about visiting Venice during a brief honeymoon.”
Every inch of Jenna glowed warm. Those words were simply part of
an act to get Meg and keep her where she belonged. Yet it seemed like only yesterday that she’d gone to sleep dreaming of sharing a honeymoon with Gage. A young and foolish girl’s dream. She had never featured in his bigger plans.
Now Gage was an important man, and pedal-to-the-metal busy.
Why was he helping her?
Ashen-faced, Leeann navigated around Gage and planted herself before Jenna. “Did I hear right? A honeymoon?”
Gage cupped Jenna’s shoulders and his heat radiated through to her very bones. “When Jenna and I met again, the old sparks fired back up.” He looked down at her and smiled. “We’ve wasted so much time, haven’t we, darling?”
His earlier comments about her hair rose in Jenna’s mind. Finding the emotion she needed, she bit that bullet. “When Gage asked me to marry him, I…I knew it was right.” She turned, steadied herself upon facing the solid heat of Gage’s frame, then placed the baby in his arms.
Strong chin tucking in, he held Meg a little away from his broad chest…until the baby gurgled, then he cocked his head, his mouth curved slightly at one corner, and he brought her close.
A tower of a man holding such a tiny life. The picture made Jenna’s heart beat fast. Gage had no intention of fathering children. As he’d said, he valued his freedom too much and a child needed stability. Still, it was a shame that a man who possessed Gage’s more admirable qualities—leadership, intelligence, vision—would never pass those genes on. This situation with herself and Meg would probably be the closest he would come to fatherhood.
A shiver chased up her spine.
Gage could walk away. But, as young as she was, would Meg grow attached?
Would her Aunt Jenna?
Although Leeann was inches shorter than her step-daughter, she managed to look down her long nose at her. “I don’t see a ring on your finger, Jenna.”
Gage directed his smile and attention toward Meg but spoke to Leeann. “That’s where we’re headed next.”
Clearly agitated, Leeann patted her chignon again then moved to pry the baby from Gage’s arms. “Then I suppose you’d best be on your way.”