Curves for the Billionaire (4 page)

Samantha gave a disbelieving snicker.

“Where’s the copy of the will?” he asked, changing the subject and bringing Samantha back to reality with a bump.

The day after the funeral Samantha had met with her father’s lawyer, Mr Truman.  By then Zachary had flown back to Italy to finalize negotiations with the car manufacturer.  The will should have been a mere formality.  Born seventeen years apart, her father and his older sister hadn’t been particularly close.  She had retired as the head of an Inner London school, married and moved to the Maldives.  She’d sent her condolences but hadn’t attended the funeral.  Her younger brother hadn’t left her anything in his will, probably assuming that she would have predeceased him.  He bequeathed Mrs Herbert fifty thousand pounds.  The housekeeper had wept openly when informed and Samantha had been thrilled for the woman, thinking that perhaps her father hadn’t been as oblivious to the woman’s love for him as Samantha had always thought.

He had left Samantha everything else…but with a small proviso.

She reached under her pillow and handed Zachary the document she’d read a dozen times already, looking for the tiniest flaw she could exploit to her advantage.  She could have recited the words to him.

I bequeath all my other worldly goods to my beloved daughter Samantha Louise, with the provision that she marries and gives birth to a child by her thirtieth birthday or within three years of my death, whichever is the later.  If she fails to meet these conditions, all remaining assets will be donated to Cancer Research.

Her father had been more upset than she’d realize by her going to Rwanda.

Now she understood what he’d been apologizing for!

“I’m not upset about the money,” she explained as Zachary raised his head after perusing the document twice.  “Cancer Research is a worthy cause and it’s fitting considering what he died of, but he knew how much I love Rosewood.  I grew up there.  I feel my mother’s presence more strongly here that anywhere else.  I can’t lose it, Zac.  I just can’t!”

“Sam, there’s nothing here that says you can’t have it.”

“Only the minor detail of finding a husband.  And oh, let’s not forget having a baby within the next thirty-four months!  No pressure.”

“Your father loved you and worried that you would volunteer your service to one war-torn country after the next.  This was just his way of keeping you in the UK.”

“But he knew that I intended to return to the UK permanently in three weeks’ time.”

“You returned
permanently
at Christmas,” Zachary reminded her.  “And less than two weeks later, you went back to Rwanda.”

“You know I hadn’t planned to, but I couldn’t leave Daniel in the lurch when Christopher left after only a week!”

“You’d already spent a year instead of six months.”  His voice had unconsciously risen and Samantha stared at him in surprise.  He prided himself on always keeping his cool—she’d never realized that her decision had angered him too.  “Why did
you
have to be the one to return?”

“It would have been for a shorter stint.  Daniel finally realized that we didn’t physically need to be there.  We’ve spent the last months working with seven Rwandan doctors and nurses he recruited from America who will take over the full running of the clinic.  He and I were both planning to return to the UK at the end of the month.  We will ship medical supplies regularly and Daniel will go back once or twice a year to ensure that things are running smoothly.  It’s the best solution.  I can’t believe it took us so long to realize it!”

“Well, I’m glad he’s figured something out because there wasn’t a day that went by that I didn’t worry about you!”

“Worry about me?” she asked incredulously.  “Zac, you insisted on accompanying me the first time to ensure that it was safe for me to work there!  You said that you were satisfied that the risks were minimal.”

“I know what I said,” he grounded out.  “But I was this close to dragging you back home.  Minimal risk was still too much risk for my liking!”

Samantha stared in shock at the sliver of space between his thumb and forefinger.  He had called her often, but she’d never imagined that he’d been so concerned about her wellbeing.

“Forget Rwanda.”  He took a deep breath and forcibly brought himself back under control.  “Let’s deal with the matter at hand.”

“Well, Daniel had asked me to marry him,” she mused aloud.  “I guess I could accept but—”

“You’re not marrying that bloody do-gooder!”

“Why not?”

“The man has a death wish.  I won’t be surprised if he sets up his next clinic in Afghanistan!”

“He won’t,” she promised.  “He plans to take over his great-uncle’s practice in Leeds when he retires next year.”

“And in the meantime?”

Secretly Samantha doubted that Daniel would ever be content treating the “well-fed, spoilt people of the Western world” as he referred to them for everyday colds and the flu when there were children dying needlessly of easily-treatable diseases in poorer countries.  He was so passionate about his cause, he’d convinced her to go with him to Rwanda as soon as they’d finished their medical training.  The year she’d spent there had been emotionally taxing, battling to save lives daily—more often than not succeeding, but failing enough times for her to question the futility of their presence there.  Most days she had longed for a quiet practice in the UK with worried mothers and fathers bringing their little darlings in with nothing more than raised temperatures and ear infections.  Daniel had asked her to consider marrying him rather than return home at the end of her stint.  It had been more a practical proposal of marriage than a loving one, she’d suspected.  They were the same age, shared a profession, both heterosexual and neither was attached.  She had gently turned him down.  Going back to Rwanda when her replacement had walked away from the clinic had been necessary, but it hadn’t been a decision she’d taken lightly.

“He’ll stay in Rwanda.”

“You’re not going back there with him,” Zachary informed her with an arrogance he’d never shown before.  “I’ll marry you.”

“You have no say in the…,” she began heatedly and then paused to let his words replay themselves in her head.  “
What?
”

“I’ll marry you,” he repeated.

“What happened to your marriage phobia?”

His father had worked as a commercial airline pilot and it seemed his mother had played the field.  Zoë had once confessed that one of her father’s colleagues had come to visit her mother in their father’s absence and had found his way into her bedroom and fondled her breast when she was thirteen.  She’d had joked that she’d been as flat as a pancake still, but she’d screamed in fear before the man could clamp his hand over her mouth and Zachary had come running to her aid.  Already tall for his age, he’d grabbed the older man by the neck and would have probably choked him to death if their mother hadn’t heard the commotion and come to investigate.  She had ordered the man to leave and begged them not to tell anyone what had happened.  They had complied, Zoë had said, not because of filial loyalty to their mother but to their father who would have been devastated.  Their mother’s infidelity had hurt Zachary deeply and he had never forgiven her for putting his twin in danger.  He’d vowed never to marry, though he’d confessed to Samantha that he envied Zoë’s blissfully happy six-year marriage and loved her two daughters and son as though they were his own.

“I don’t have a marriage phobia,” he denied.  “I just think the likelihood of two people remaining faithful to each other for a lifetime is slim.  Three years is a more realistic target.”

“And after that?”  How would she find the strength to let him go?

“We’ll see.”

“What if we’re not…?” Realizing that she’d spoken the words aloud, Samantha clapped her hand over her lips.  She had no problem finding him sexy—he was so yummy she could eat him with a spoon or lick him from head to toe like a delicious ice cream treat.  But would he be able to bed her after the size zeroes and minus-twos he’d been dating?

“Not what?”  He queried, reaching for her hand and pulling her gently to her feet.  “Sexually compatible?”

“I mean I’m totally different to—”

His head swooped downwards and his lips captured hers fiercely.

Weakly she clung to him, glad that she’d at least gotten out of bed earlier to brush her teeth, shower and change into a fresh nightgown.  His tongue stroked hers and ignited a heated response between her thighs.  Restlessly she moved her hips against his, seeking a scratching pole for the sudden, maddening itch between her legs.  Thankfully she found a bulge and ground herself against it feverishly, wishing that she could ease the ache inside her in the same way.  The bulge twitched and rapidly surged into hardness.  Zachary expelled a fast hard breath and cupping her bottom, he pressed her against it for a few glorious moments before holding her hips still and fighting to bring himself under control.

He broke the kiss and stared down at her, looking as aroused as she felt.  “I’d say that we’re
very
compatible, wouldn’t you?”

Samantha opened her mouth to respond.  No sound came out of it and she snapped it shut.  It had happened so quickly she wondered if she had been daydreaming again.  But no, her breasts felt heavy and tight and her nipples ached and so did between her legs.  Oh God, her body was just begging to be filled with Zachary’s stiff length.

“Give me a week to clear my diary and make the necessary arrangements for the wedding.”

“A week?” she squeaked, finally finding her voice.  “So soon?”

“We haven’t got much time to make that baby, so the sooner we start the better.”

Trust him to look at the practicalities and approach the whole idea with level-headed good sense.

“I just thought that we’d take enough time to…to get used to the idea of—” she stuttered.

“And get cold feet if we overanalyze it?”  Zachary shook his head.  “No, let’s just take the plunge.”

Why was she objecting?
 It would be like a fairytale come true for her—not that she honestly believed in them. 
He
was the one she feared would have regrets.  But being married to him for even one day would be glorious!

“Okay,” she agreed, trying hard not to show how giddy she felt inside.

“Have you been tested recently?”

This is why he’s so successful, she realized.  He knew exactly when to ‘stay in the moment’ and when to look ahead and plan the next move.

“Yes,” she replied.  “We had to get tested regularly.”

The clinic offered treatment to children aged sixteen and under, many who had AIDS or were HIV positive.  The medical team had exercised caution, but they had been acutely aware that all it would take was a tiny prick from an infected needle.

“I’ve always used protection,” Zachary said and Samantha felt her face go warm as she imagined him rolling a condom in place.  She shook her head and tried to focus as he continued, “I get tested regularly, too.  I’m due for one in a couple of months, but I’ll have it early to be on the safe side.”

“I—”

It was the perfect time to tell him that she only needed the test because of her job, but the words stuck in her throat.

“It’ll be alright,” he promised, pulling her close and bending to kiss her softly.

This kiss was different—a little more than a press of his lips against hers—sweet and strangely comforting.  Yet, she felt his body surge and his eyes were green fire when he straightened.

“Why would you think we weren’t compatible?”  He rubbed his thumb over her swollen lips before backing away and moving to the door.  He turned when he got there and said, “We’ve kissed before, or have you forgotten?”

“I hadn’t forgotten,”.  He smiled and went