Hunter stroked her tangled hair back off her face. ‘And what do you want for supper, poppet?’
She sniffed and pulled herself up into a sitting position and began to wipe her nose on her sleeve, but Hunter whipped out a tissue just in time—years of practice made him faster than lightning at such tasks. ‘Here. Use this.’
Emma took the tissue and blew her nose and hiccoughed a couple of times, and then scrunched up the tissue into a ball in her hand. ‘I want chocolate,’ she said with a mulish look.
‘Em, you can’t eat chocolate at every meal.’ He’d lost count of the number of times they’d had this conversation. ‘Remember what Dr Nazeem said? You have to eat a balanced diet otherwise you’ll—’
‘But I want it!’ She howled like a banshee and began to drum her heels on the floor, throwing the used tissue away like a missile.
Hunter took her hands in his and drew her into his chest, holding her securely, rocking her gently to soothe her. ‘It’s okay, poppet. Let’s go for a compromise, okay? You have a little bit of proper supper and then you can have some chocolate for dessert. How does that sound? Fair?’
‘’Kay...’ Emma came out of her hyped-up state as if a magic wand had been waved but Hunter knew it wouldn’t last. There would be another day, another time when she would lose it again. It was a knife-edge existence for her carers, as it had been for him and his mother over the years. He sometimes wondered if the stress of caring for Emma was why his mother had not been able to survive her blood cancer. She hadn’t had the strength or endurance to cope with the chemo—all her strength and endurance had been used up, worn away by the stress and arduous task of caring for her disabled child. And it made Hunter feel all the more guilty that he hadn’t been able to do more to help his mother.
Once Emma was settled with her supper on her lap in front of her favourite children’s television show, Hunter took Judy aside. ‘Are you okay?’
She gave him a weary smile. ‘I’m paid to be okay. And very generously, thanks to you. But how are you?’
How was he? What a question. It was times like this that he wondered how he had managed to build the career he had with the burdens he’d carried over the years. Not that he considered Emma a burden. She was his little sister and he loved her. Besides, he didn’t know how long he would have her. The doctors hadn’t expected her to live this long with her complex condition. He dreaded the day he would lose her. His life had revolved around taking care of her for so long, he didn’t know any other way of living.
Hunter forced his lips into a smile. ‘I’m fine, as always.’
I have to be.
* * *
Millie was driven to a three-storey Georgian house in Bloomsbury by a pleasant older gentleman called Sam, who told her he often drove Hunter to and from district courts when the need arose. He also did odd jobs around Hunter’s house and garden and his wife, Ada, did the housekeeping. Sam showed her into the house and assured her Hunter wouldn’t be too much longer, and informed her Ada had dropped off some things for dinner earlier and had set the table in the dining room.
Once Sam had left, Millie took the things she had bought through to the kitchen, quietly marvelling at how well appointed it was—no less than a chef’s dream of a place in which to work. She put the raspberries and cream in the smart fridge and left the chocolates on the acre of island bench.
It was strange to be in a person’s house without them being there, especially the first time. She couldn’t stop herself from having a little snoop around, looking for clues to the man behind the enigmatic smile. Judging from the contents of his fridge, he was a health-conscious eater. And the clean, streamlined décor hinted at a neat and ordered mind...or maybe a very efficient housekeeper. Or both.
Millie continued her tour to the sitting room, complete with shiny black fireplace and a French carriage clock on the mantelpiece above softly ticking in the background. The sofas were deeply cushioned, and she could imagine curling up there with a good book, a glass of wine and Hunter’s arm around her...
She jerked back from her wayward thoughts, shocked at the picture they had constructed in her brain. A domestically cosy picture that had no chance of ever becoming a reality.
Because she didn’t want it to...did she? And, more to the point, nor did he. He wasn’t the sitting-by-the-fireplace-with-the-love-of-his-life type. He was a freedom-loving playboy who was adamant he would never be tied down by matrimony. She could hardly blame him, given his line of work.
But there had been times just lately when Millie wasn’t sure what she wanted any more. Being around Hunter, being kissed by him, had shifted her out of a long period of stasis. A guilt-ridden lockdown of her wants and needs. Needs she had pretended for so long didn’t exist. But he had stirred something in her, something that had been asleep for a long time. It was like waking from a coma realising nothing was the same as it had been before. How could it be? She could recall every moment of Hunter’s explosively passionate kiss. She could recall the hard press of his aroused body against her. Her body was still agitated, restless, wanting more contact. Needing more contact, like an addict needed another fix.
But it wouldn’t do to get addicted to Hunter Addison. He was heartbreaker material and the last thing she needed was her heart smashed to pieces. Launching into an intimate relationship again was definitely not on her agenda. She had done the commitment thing and look how it had turned out. She had been trapped, imprisoned by her own promises, and those chains were still around her to some degree.
But the thought of a fling was tempting...especially with Hunter. Dangerously tempting.
Millie moved to the bookshelves at the back of the room to see what sort of taste he had in literature. There were plenty of crime and thriller novels, many legal texts, and history books and biographies. There was even a row of children’s picture books, some of the very same titles she had had as a child. So he was a little bit sentimental, was he? He hadn’t thrown out his childhood books. How interesting.
She drew out one of her favourites, flicking through the pages, recalling how she had been the one to read them to her mother, not the other way round. She had even tried to teach her mother to recognise the simple words and sentences, with moderate success. But being able to stumble her way through a kindergarten-age picture book was the limit of her mother’s ability. Her mum had missed out on early intervention due to the long denial of Millie’s grandparents that anything was wrong. And, of course, her mother had developed numerous cover-up strategies to cope. Pretending she’d left glasses which she didn’t possess at home, or had sprained a wrist so she couldn’t write—the list went on and on.
Millie slid the book back into place with a sigh. So many things would have been different for her mother if she had been able to learn to read.
She glanced around the room for photos and spied a couple on a walnut table near the window overlooking the garden. There was one of what appeared to be his mother as a young woman, gorgeous, with dark hair and the same whisky-brown eyes as Hunter. There was another one of him at about age five, proudly cradling a new-born baby—his sister Emma, presumably. There was another one of him when his sister was a toddler—he had his arm around her, and she was looking up at him with adoration, and his smile was just as loving.
Millie traced her finger over Hunter’s beaming smile and wondered why he wasn’t interested in settling down and having children of his own. She put the photo back down but couldn’t help noticing there were none of his father. There was, however, one a little separate from the other photos—Hunter as a young boy with his arm around a shaggy dog, smiling broadly, the dog looking up at him in rapt affection.
The sound of Hunter’s firm footfall as he came into the room made her swing round with a gasp. She quickly put down the photo. ‘Oh, I didn’t hear you come in.’ She smoothed her hands down the front of her dress. ‘I was, erm, looking at the photos.
You were a cute kid. Your sister too.’
He put a hand up to loosen his tie, his expression difficult to read. ‘Sorry I kept you waiting. I got held up longer than I expected.’
‘No problem.’ Would he come over and greet her with a kiss? Why was he keeping his distance and acting so aloof? It made her feel uneasy, as if he was regretting asking her to his house. Or maybe his little meeting with whoever it was had put him off spending the evening with her.
‘Would you like a drink before we start on dinner? I got my housekeeper to pick up some things.’ His voice was polite but formal and it made her feel as if a chasm had opened up between them. He was on one side, she was on the other. After the scorching kiss they had shared in her studio, it seemed an odd way to behave. Was he regretting kissing her? She could never regret kissing him. She ached to do it again, to feel his mouth moving with such heat and passion against hers.
Millie forced her lips into a smile. ‘Why not?’
He opened a cleverly concealed bar fridge and took out a bottle of champagne. ‘Since you like a few bubbles in your glass, how about this?’
There were quite a few bubbles fizzing in her bloodstream right now from just being in the same room as him. ‘I would love some. I guess this is kind of a celebration, isn’t it? Well, for me anyway, given you’re not charging any legal fees. I still don’t know how to thank you. When I told Mum this afternoon, she burst into tears. She’s so terribly grateful, as I am.’
He expertly removed the cork from the bottle with a soft little pop, an enigmatic smile curling the edges of his mouth. ‘Everyone deserves a break now and again.’ He poured two glasses of champagne and carried them to where she was standing. He handed her one. ‘To seeing justice done.’
Millie clinked her glass against his, her eyes unable to move away from the magnetic pull of his gaze. ‘Thank you.’
His lips quirked in another fleeting smile, and he tipped his glass back and took a measured sip, but the uneasiness she’d sensed in him was still there. He hid it well, but she could sense it in the way he held himself aloof. He hadn’t touched her other than to hand her the glass of champagne, and that seemed odd, given their kiss that afternoon. And he had a faraway look in his eyes that reminded her of the first time they had met. Preoccupied and distant. Brooding.
‘Is everything all right?’
He blinked, as if he had forgotten she was there. ‘Sorry. What?’
Millie touched him on the arm. ‘You seem a little distracted. Are you okay?’
He placed his hand over the top of hers and gave a crooked smile. ‘You’re the second person to ask me that today. I’m fine.’
‘I just thought...after what happened this afternoon in my studio...well, maybe you’d changed your mind about dinner. Or you have other more important things to do.’
He put his glass down and then took hers, setting it down on the table next to them. ‘Let’s do a replay. I’ll come back in and greet you the way I should have the first time.’
Millie watched him stride back to the door of the sitting room, disappearing for a moment outside and then coming back in with a winning smile.
‘Hi, honey, I’m home.’ He swept her up into his arms and swung her in a full circle, then slid her down his body until she was back on her feet. ‘Pleased to see me?’
Clearly he was pleased to see her. She could feel the proud bulge of his erection pressing against her belly. A shiver passed over her flesh and, on an impulse she couldn’t stop in time, she linked her arms around his neck and smiled. ‘That’s much better.’
‘But still needs improvement, right?’ He gave her a mock-serious look, his eyes twinkling.
‘Depends what you have in mind.’ Who knew she could be so flirtatious? And have heaps of fun doing it? Her blood was singing through her veins, her heart hopscotching in her chest.
‘Believe me, sweetheart, you do not want to know what’s on my mind right now.’ His tone was dry, his glinting gaze sending another shiver down her spine and a pool of liquid heat straight to her core.
‘Try me and see.’
He pressed a light kiss to her lips and released her, leaving her aching, hungry for more. His gaze lost its playful spark and his expression became full of gravitas. ‘There’s something I need to make clear. I don’t want you to sleep with me out of a sense of gratitude. If we sleep together, I want it to be because you want to have a fling with me as equals, okay?’
A fling. Millie rolled her lips together, suddenly lost for words. He was offering her a fling. A short-term relationship that would satisfy the needs he had awakened in her. Needs she had never felt so powerfully before. A fling was not a long-term commitment, so that would be fine, wouldn’t it? Long-term commitment was not her thing any more. No more emotional prisons. No more entrapment. Hunter wanted what she wanted—a short-term fling to explore the passion that had fired up between them.
‘I don’t know what to say.’ She couldn’t hold his gaze and looked at the loosened knot of his tie instead. ‘It’s...tempting...’
‘But?’
She brought her eyes back to his. ‘I’ve only had one lover. I have so little experience compared to you. I’ll probably disappoint you, or won’t excite you enough, and—’
He placed his hands on her hips and drew her back against his hard frame. ‘You can already feel how much you excite me.’
She gave a gulping swallow, her legs trembling with desire so hot and strong, it threatened to engulf her. ‘I—I can’t imagine why you’d be excited by someone like me.’
He smiled and brought his mouth down close to hers. ‘Everything about you excites me. You’re funny and cute and whip-smart. And I like how you stand up to me. It turns me on big time.’
Millie breathed in the scent of him, the male musk and expensive citrus notes that intoxicated her senses into a stupor. She was under some sort of magical spell, turning into a wanton woman with no other motivation other than to get her physical needs met. And sooner rather than later. She wanted to say yes. She ached to say yes. Every female hormone in her body was screaming, say yes!
But there were other things to consider, other people’s feelings to take into account. Lena, for instance. How could Millie have a full-on and very public fling with Hunter Addison without hurting her? And there were her own feelings to consider. Hunter was a heart-stoppingly attractive man with so many wonderful qualities. What if she were to lose her heart to him? He wasn’t interested in anything long-term. A fling was what he was offering. She had only ever been in a long-term and totally committed relationship—so committed she was still in it in a sense, because that was what others thought. She had encouraged them think it.
‘Hunter...there’s something I need to tell you...’ She glanced down at the engagement ring on her hand.
He placed his hand over her left one, his expression sombre. ‘I can only imagine how hard it must be to move on from the love of your life. But it’s been three years. Do you think he would have waited as long as that?’
Millie sucked part of her lower lip into her mouth, her mind spooling back to the last words Julian had said to her. I will love you for ever.
She lifted her gaze back up to Hunter’s. ‘It’s not what you think... I’m not what you think.’ She took a ragged breath and continued, ‘I fell out of love with Julian years before he died. I—I didn’t have the heart to tell him. He was devastated enough over the prognosis. He had a really difficult to treat form of brain cancer. The first surgery changed him. When he woke from the induced coma they had him in for a few days post-op, he wasn’t the person I used to love. I kept hoping the old Jules would come back but he never did. But he needed me, and I stayed.’
Hunter frowned darkly. ‘Oh, you poor, sweet darling.’ His arms came round her and held her close against his chest, one of his hands gently stroking the back of her head. ‘I can’t imagine
how trapped you must have felt.’
Millie glanced up at him through misty eyes. ‘It’s why I never refer to him as Jules any more, always Julian. The old Jules had gone and nothing I could do could get him back.’
He cradled her face in his hands. ‘What you did was brave and honourable and incredibly selfless. But don’t you see, it’s time to move on? You’ve made enough sacrifices for Julian. You don’t have to beat yourself up over not loving him the way you used to.’
‘I feel so ashamed...’ She looked at the knob of his Adam’s apple rather than meet his gaze. ‘Everyone felt so sorry for me when Julian died three days before the wedding. But I was glad I didn’t have to take the pretence that far. Glad. Don’t you think that’s dreadfully shameful of me? To actually be glad he died?’
Hunter raised her face so her gaze meshed with his. ‘Is that why you still wear his engagement ring? As a form of self-flagellation?’
Millie bit her lip and nodded. ‘I’ve spent the last three years playing the role of grieving fiancée. Looking back, I guess it was easy enough to act, because I genuinely cared about him as a friend—as indeed I care about lots of people close to me. The irony is, I’m usually hopeless at keeping secrets. I couldn’t even keep my friend Ivy’s surprise thirtieth birthday party from her, but I’ve lived this lie for so long, I don’t know how to live my life any other way.’
‘There is another way,’ Hunter said, holding her by the shoulders in a firm but gentle hold. ‘You move on. Live your life. Do the things you want to do, things Julian would want you to do. He wouldn’t want you throwing your life away. Not the old Jules, anyway, right? The one you loved?’
Millie blinked back tears. How brilliantly he had put it. She was allowing the sick, changed version of Julian to hold her back from living an authentic life. The Jules she had loved would not have wanted her to throw her life away. How had she not realised that until now? ‘You’re right, but it’s still going to be difficult. I might have to feel my way for a bit.’
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