Harlequin Romance April 2021 Box Set

by Rebecca Winters

  ‘He blamed you? A teenager?’

  ‘I was an easy target.’

  ‘It all sounds terribly unfair.’

  ‘I got through it all right,’ he said, tight-lipped.

  ‘You certainly have,’ she said.

  In terms of wealth and success anyway. In terms of personal damage, who knew how it had affected him? She remembered how vulnerable she had been at sixteen, determined to be an adult, to take risks, but buoyed by the security and guidance of her mother there for her. And, before he died, her father’s loving support. ‘Thank you for sharing that with me.’

  He shrugged. ‘I haven’t told you anything that’s not public knowledge—it’s still often brought up in stories about my success. I thought I should clear the air in case you’d read about it.’

  But she knew there must be so much more to it. ‘I can understand, in a way, how you felt when you discovered the truth.’

  ‘Really?’ She could tell by the narrowing of his eyes he didn’t believe anyone could ever understand what he’d been through.

  ‘I didn’t discover I was adopted until I was thirteen. And then it was only by accident.’

  He frowned. ‘Your parents hadn’t told you?’

  She shook her head. ‘They said they nearly did on so many occasions but didn’t know how to. They’re highly intelligent people, so I don’t quite get that, but there it is. I imagine you might have gone through some of the same struggles with identity as I did.’ Only she had had parents who genuinely loved her to help her through it.

  ‘You could say that, yes,’ he said. ‘I was sixteen, a kid, but savvy enough to realise what had happened. Why I hadn’t fitted the family mould suddenly became clear.’

  ‘For me too. Although I was lucky and my family embraced my differences.’

  ‘Two different situations. Your parents chose you. My father felt I was foisted on him. He hated me for it.’

  ‘Hate. That’s a harsh word.’

  ‘I was a kid of sixteen. A boy that age shouldn’t have to learn to hate back. But I did.’ His face was set in grim lines but she could see traces of the bewilderment he must have felt as a teenager.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said.

  He shrugged again. ‘In one way it was the making of me. I forged a new life in a different part of town, where no one cared where I’d fallen from. Forced into earning my own living to help my mother, I grew up quickly. Almost immediately I started refurbishing unwanted mobile phones and selling them on at a profit, all while I was still in high school.’

  ‘You had to prove him wrong about you,’ she said softly, gaining a glimmering of understanding of what it had been like for him.

  ‘Correct,’ he said.

  She wondered why they were talking in such depth like this, as if it was a first date and there would be others. That wasn’t going to happen.

  He’d mentioned earlier that he would be flying down to Melbourne the next day, then flying back to Boston from there. There was an undeniable attraction between them—she could almost see the sparks. But it could go nowhere. She felt sad about that; it wasn’t often she felt as comfortable with a man.

  But she lived in Sydney and he in Boston. When she was nineteen, she’d snagged an internship in Paris working with a couture bridal house. She’d fallen crazily in love with a French guy and he with her. It had been real, not just a fling. After she’d gone back to Sydney, they’d tried to keep up the relationship long distance, but it had proved too difficult. It would be too difficult now. She reined in her thoughts. This was just one date. No one was considering romance, let alone a long-distance relationship.

  ‘I’m glad I heard about the scandal from you rather than through an internet search,’ she said. ‘But I still say it’s a tragedy.’

  The waiter appeared at the table to ask if she and Josh had finished their meals. They looked at each other and laughed. ‘We’ve been talking too much.’

  ‘And I’ve enjoyed every minute of it,’ Josh said, his voice deep and husky.

  So had she. She didn’t want the evening to end. And she hadn’t felt like that for a long, long time.

  * * *

  Josh walked Eloise to her car. Purposely he took slow steps to extend his time with her for as long as possible. He didn’t hold her hand, put his arm around her, or brush his shoulder against hers, although he wanted to. He gritted his teeth against the urge to pull her into his arms. She was gloriously sexy in that glamorous dress, although this rush of attraction was about so much more than that.

  The way she tilted her head at a slight angle as she listened to him—really listened to him—and understood. Her wholehearted laugh. How that laughter reflected in those remarkable eyes, cornflower-blue fringed with thick black lashes that must be fake or enhanced with make-up, because he hadn’t noticed them in the park. The lushness of her mouth slicked with deep red lipstick with a boldness that was almost theatrical. The sparkle of her creativity—she’d had him halfway to wishing he had a merman’s tail. Him. Josh Taylor, who had no time for fanciful flights of imagination unless it led to something marketable and profitable. And yet the professionalism in the way she spoke about the business she was so passionate about had also struck a chord. In that drive to succeed, they were like-minded.

  She and Tori might look alike but Eloise was entirely her own person. The whole evening he hadn’t given Tori a thought. Except when Eloise had mentioned the way she’d sketched herself as an indication of her ideal sister and he’d nearly choked on his surprise. Apart from that, he hadn’t remarked to himself on their similarities or their differences. Because Eloise was Eloise.

  And he liked her, really liked her. But he had made a promise to Tori not to tell Eloise about their connection. If he took his interest in Eloise any further he would find himself tangled in a net of deception. That was not something he felt comfortable with. Not something Eloise would appreciate either, he was sure, even with his limited knowledge of her.

  If he was wise, he would forget any further contact with Eloise until the day Tori could explain how he had acted as an advance scout in her search for her twin—and, short of DNA testing, he was convinced they were twins—and they could have a good laugh about the way Daisy had engineered their meeting.

  Apart from that, he wasn’t in the market for a serious relationship. Not now. Maybe not ever. And Eloise had commitment and permanence written all over her beautiful self. How could he possibly fool around with Tori’s sister? Tori might have been adopted into an Italian family but those Italian expectations of family loyalty she held were real and ran very deep in her. If he dated her sister, she would expect nothing short of a proposal. No. He would be wise to keep a very, very wide berth from this gorgeous woman.

  They reached Eloise’s car, a vintage Scandinavian sports car circa 1962, a collector’s item in immaculate condition. A woman with a cool car. His admiration for her rocketed even higher. Eloise turned to face him, car keys dangling from her hand.

  ‘Thank you. Dinner was an unexpected surprise and I enjoyed it very much.’

  ‘I hope we can keep in touch,’ he said. They had swapped numbers that morning in the park.

  ‘I’d like that,’ she said. Her voice was cool and contained and gave him no hint as to whether she really wanted to see him again or was being polite. It was just one date and they both knew it.

  He would urge Tori to get in touch with Eloise soon, and give her the sister she’d sketched all those years ago. And let Eloise give Tori her imaginary friend for real.

  ‘Next time you come to the States for one of your celebrity clients, perhaps you can swing by Boston,’ he said.

  ‘It’s a thought,’ she said, again polite and non-committal.

  She stood half in shadow but as she looked up at him the movement took her into the warm glow of a street light. Her eyes shone incredibly blue and
the rich red lipstick gleamed on her luscious mouth. ‘Goodbye, then,’ she said.

  ‘Goodbye,’ he echoed.

  But he couldn’t break the irresistible pull of her gaze. He had felt it in the restaurant when he had first noticed she had arrived, an attraction so powerful it had transcended the space between them. Now she stood so close he was aware of her warmth, her tantalising scent. There were no further words to be said. The silence that hung between them could only be broken in one way.

  He lowered his head to kiss her as she stepped closer to accept his kiss. He realised he had wanted this since the moment she’d laughed up at him in the park, had wanted to push his fingers through her thick hair. He did that now and she gave a little murmur of pleasure. Then he kissed her on her mouth. After an initial start of surprise, she kissed him back wholeheartedly. What started as a sweet and tender goodnight kiss flamed into something urgent and passionate that overtook him with its intensity. For minutes, or it could have been hours, all he was aware of was Eloise—her taste, her warmth, the excitement of having her in his arms.

  But then, with a little sigh of regret, she broke away from the kiss, stepped back from him, her face flushed, her lips swollen, her hair in delicious disarray. ‘That...that shouldn’t have happened.’ Her voice wasn’t steady as she tried to control her erratic breathing.

  His voice was hoarse. ‘I’m glad it did.’ He put his hand on her shoulder, suddenly unable to bear the loss of her touch.

  She gave a shaky smile. ‘I don’t do one-night stands—’

  ‘I didn’t expect—’

  She put a finger across his lips to silence him. ‘We both know what we’ll want if we keep on kissing like that. We both know what would happen if I invited you into my car and back to my flat.’ She paused to drag in air, and her breasts rose in a way he found almost unbearably alluring. ‘Not a good idea,’ she said.

  She was so beautiful.

  ‘No,’ he choked out, while his body screamed yes. She wriggled out of his reach. Reluctantly, he let her go.

  ‘Thank you, Josh, for a wonderful evening—I enjoyed every minute.’ She flashed him a mischievous smile. ‘Especially the last few minutes.’

  He laughed and any awkwardness evaporated. ‘Goodbye, Eloise.’

  She swung her long, shapely legs into her car. It suited her, its era, her style. With just one backward glance and a fleeting smile, she drove away with a throaty roar of the engine. He watched the sleek, small white car until it turned a corner, raising his hand in a final, farewell wave he knew she couldn’t see.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  DESPITE HIS RESOLVE, Josh could not get Eloise out of his mind. When had he ever met a more enchanting woman? Her lovely face, her warm laugh, their sensational kiss all haunted his thoughts. Why did it have to be so damn complicated?

  Boy meets girl. Girl is most likely boy’s friend’s long-lost twin, but boy is honour-bound not to reveal his connection. Girl lives on the other side of the world. Boy does not want to be distracted by girl while he still has goals he has to fulfil. But boy is distracted no matter how he tries not to think about girl.

  Man, was he distracted.

  Josh particularly found his thoughts turning to Eloise while at the most important of his Melbourne meetings—with Courtney and Shawn, the people behind the phenomenally successful digital graphic design platform he had invested heavily in as a start-up. It had been one of his best decisions, as it had also brought him two good friends.

  They were a couple, deeply in love and planning their wedding. He recommended Eloise Evans Atelier, only to be told by the delighted bride that she was already on the waiting list and his wedding invitation was in the mail. ‘Plus one, of course.’

  ‘Just keep it at me,’ he said. ‘No plus-one.’

  Despite her not so subtle questioning, Josh did not enlighten her to the state of his love life. Nor did he allow Courtney—or Tori for that matter—to set him up with any of her single friends. His love life—or lack of it—was his own business.

  His ex-father—what else could he call him?—and his ex-brother—ditto—had written him off as a future asset to the family firm from an early age. He had not fitted the mould. All the men in the family went to Harvard and Josh had had no desire to be a lawyer. His interests had lain in the digital world and a degree in computing. Then the truth of his parentage had come out and suddenly there had been no college fund, no support. He had been so shocked when the issue of his birth identity had erupted. ‘But Dad—’ he’d protested.

  His father hadn’t let him finish. ‘Don’t ever call me that again. I’m not your dad. You are nothing to do with me. You’re the result of a sordid liaison between a deadbeat and a woman of dubious morals. I wipe my hands of you completely.’

  His mother had gasped at that. But she hadn’t tried to defend herself. Or him.

  Even his high school girlfriend had dumped him when he’d been booted from the big house on Beacon Hill to live with his mother in his widowed aunt’s apartment in the North End. He’d thought she’d been as in love with him as he’d been in love with her. Seemed it was the wealth and lifestyle he’d lost that had been the attraction.

  That was when he’d started to grow the cynical shield around his heart that had now hardened into a barrier he liked to consider impenetrable. And he’d found truth in that old saying, He who travels fastest, travels alone.

  ‘Perhaps you just haven’t met the right woman yet,’ Tori had been known to say.

  But it wasn’t that. His energy had to be put into proving to his ex-father and half-brother that, in terms of the material success their world judged people by, he not just matched but also exceeded them. He didn’t want long-term relationships—and the emotional fallout that came with them—to get in the way.

  Despite the cramped quarters at Aunt Lil’s apartment, the enforced move had been a revelation. Boston’s Little Italy neighbourhood, with its crowded old buildings dating back to the very early days of the city, was lively and convivial. He’d met Tori and her brothers, Ty and Tate, at his new high school and found both a warm welcome and income-producing gigs as a waiter at the Italian restaurant Tori’s parents ran.

  He still considered their trattoria to be a home from home. It had been a welcome escape from his mother’s misery and depression. Looking back, he realised how much it must have hurt her to lose her home and contact with her older son. Back then, Josh had thought she’d blamed him—or the accident of his birth—for it all. He’d been at the trattoria more than he’d been at home.

  Today, Tuesday lunchtime, he was eating with his Melbourne friends at a small, family-run Thai restaurant in one of Melbourne’s famous laneways. It had the same kind of casual warmth and excellent food as the trattoria—as well as off-the-beaten-track privacy. As far as Josh was concerned, the good thing about being successful in the digital world, as opposed to something more ‘glamorous’, was that he tended to fly under the radar when it came to media attention.

  Lately, however, his rocketing wealth and single status had been getting him unwanted attention—and he didn’t like it. He’d complained to the publications about his inclusion in puerile ‘eligible bachelor’ lists—which had only excited them into asking for interviews. What did his relationship status—or lack of it—have to do with anything?

  But here, he could enjoy his anonymity with his friends. While the food was good and the company excellent, he couldn’t help but be aware of the conspicuously empty chair at the four-person table. How would it be if Eloise sat there next to him? He’d never before met a woman he’d want to introduce to his friends.

  Four successful young entrepreneurs would have a lot to chat about. He could imagine the spirited conversation, the laughter, the strong opinions tossed back and forth. The thought conjured up an image of her sitting there, smiling at him, holding his hand under the table. It almost seemed real. But t
he empty chair glared back at him.

  The long lunch over, he farewelled his friends with promises of seeing them again at their wedding. Then he headed back to his luxurious suite in one of Melbourne’s most stylish Southbank hotels. For several hours, he attended to the necessary phone and video-call catch-ups that being in a different time zone entailed. He had no more appointments for the day after those were complete though and now he was on his own.

  Usually he valued time to himself. But this afternoon he only felt restless. And, unusually for him, lonely. Perhaps seeing Courtney and Shawn so happy together was affecting him. Making him think thoughts he usually pushed far to the back of his mind, to keep company with other repressed thoughts of love and family and the security of shared lives. Not for him, he reminded himself. Not now. He was only twenty-nine. Perhaps later. Much later.

  He found himself looking out of the floor-to-ceiling windows over the winding Yarra River and the staggered skyline of a city that wasn’t home. He flew back to Boston tomorrow. But he would be flying back to loneliness too, packing it in his bag and transporting it with him to his empty apartment. Being alone was the price he had willingly paid for the freedom to build his staggering wealth that disproved, dollar by dollar, that he hadn’t been worthy of the family he’d been born into.

  Boy could not forget girl.

  Eloise intrigued him. He wanted to see her face again, hear her magical laugh. Just a friendly meeting. Not a date. No physical contact like kissing, which only complicated things. It made sense, didn’t it, to act on that impulse when he was in the same country as her rather than half a world away?

  Thoughts of her flashed through his mind: her uninhibited joy in her scruffy little foster dog; the sensual sway when she walked in high-heeled shoes; the understanding in her eyes when he’d told her some of his past.

  He started to text:

  I find I have to be back in Sydney on Thursday. Would lunch be out of the question? Josh T

  He pressed send and stared at the screen. She’d be busy in her workshop. Perhaps fitting a client. Maybe even dreaming up a spectacular dress for Courtney. But within seconds, the phone pinged a reply.