Riley’s Billionaire (13 page)

She rose, on her knees, just enough for him to position himself...a bit more, then a solid shaft seeking entrance, all but thundering against her. She eased herself onto him, but he couldn’t lie still. He thrust...again, again, until he was buried inside Riley, her slick heat enveloping him.

‘Am I hurting you,
chérie
,?’ He looked into her eyes with concern.

She didn’t appear able to speak. She shook her head and closed her eyes, leaving Jack wanting...hoping...that he was doing the right thing by executing what they’d both desired.

Momentum increasing, they peaked, shattered, and melted into one another’s arms.

Riley was quiet, but Jack felt her measured breaths until her small frame quit shaking.

He rolled them gently onto their sides, with him spooning her. Soon he felt her body relax, and she fell asleep nestled against him.

For several minutes, Jack pondered what had just happened. She’d made the overtures, which both thrilled and confused him. He’d never imagined the mix of ecstasy, fascination, and sheer joy a woman could offer. Not just any woman — his wife. And now that he’d fully possessed her, Jack knew he had to protect Riley at any cost, even if it displeased her.

She’d said she wanted to be free to speak with anyone she chose. He knew she was right, but the repercussions were unsettling. Allowing Patrick into her life wouldn’t destroy their marriage, but it very well could prove dangerous for Riley. Until Jack was certain she was safe, he’d have to monitor his wife’s comings and goings on the sly.

Jack had no trouble falling asleep that night, but he had a devil of a time waking the next morning.

He looked at himself in the bathroom mirror.
You’re out of shape, mate. You haven’t ridden your bike in months, and you haven’t made love since...well, too long.

His precocious wife had taken off much earlier. She’d left a note telling him she would be in the cabin on the hill should he need her. She took her cell phone with her this time. Not that he needed to call her — he knew where she’d be.

Janet confirmed his thought when he visited her after breakfast.

‘Your missy, she not good about eating breakfast, but I make her.’ Janet smiled with self-satisfaction. ‘She like my scones, so I send her up the hill with them and coffee. All she want to eat is fruit and drink coffee or water. But I gonna make her fat when she get pregnant.’

Pregnant?
Startled, Jack sheepishly remembered they hadn’t used protection last night. What were the chances, though?

At first, the thought brought a huge smile to his face, and he swelled with anticipation. Just as suddenly, his mind latched onto the idea Riley might think he’d gotten her pregnant on purpose, to make certain he was forever linked to the Fitzgerald fortune. A flash of anger zapped him as he thought of people like Sharon who might make sure Riley’s pregnancy raised doubts in her mind. His wife would never trust him if she thought he’d used her.

Difficult as it was, he had to switch gears, focus on something else.

Jack’s cell phone beeped, and when he checked it, a reminder came up. Damn, he had a conference call to make that afternoon and a business trip scheduled for the rest of the week.

He checked other messages and the calendar on his phone as he made the climb to the cabin on the hill. He found his wife taking a break, facing the valley east of the vineyards.

Awkward after-sex moment.
He sat beside her wordlessly. She had looked up but didn’t seem to be able to break the silence any better than he did. Finally he cleared his throat and faced her.

‘How are you this morning?’

Riley nodded. ‘I’m okay. Bit surprised is all.’

Jack asked, ‘Good surprise or bad?’

She wet her lips. ‘I was a bit aggressive last night. Sorry.’

He touched her hand. ‘You were wonderful. I was afraid you were just having a few moments of doubt and needed reassuring, when all I could do was think of...well, you know.’

Riley turned to face him. ‘We didn’t use protection.’

‘My fault. I didn’t think...’

‘Neither of us did. I’m just as responsible as you for what happened. Probably more.’

Jack wondered if she regretted what had happened. It was unplanned, but he certainly had no misgivings.

‘Riley, I don’t know what to say. To be honest, I’ve never been in the position of giving a damn what a woman felt or thought after we had sex, so this is new to me.’

She nodded again. ‘And now?’

‘I give a damn.’ He wished he could offer more, but admitting he cared was hard enough. He hadn’t quite processed his own feelings.

He decided to change the subject before either of them became mired in doubt. Somehow rehashing what had happened didn’t seem advisable. Not when it appeared neither of them quite knew how to have even a casual conversation about it.

‘I’m expected in France day after tomorrow. Care to join me since it involves you?’

‘Me?’ Riley seemed surprised.

‘We’re considering marrying a vine from Nice with one of ours, doing some transplanting and cross pollination,’

Say yes, chérie .
He didn’t want her on her own for five days, and it would give Riley a chance to become acquainted with her mother-in-law.

‘Do you really need me?’ She looked about the cabin and pointed to a space she’d recently cleaned. ‘I thought I’d order some equipment I need and get it set up this week.’

His thoughts raced. ‘Do you have the brochures you need, catalogues, the forms you need for ordering?’ Jack came up with every idea he could summon, considering he’d never partaken of this side of the business, merely managed whoever had the job.

‘I suppose.’ She looked doubtful. ‘Jack, I can probably pick up most of this stuff myself in Sydney or Brisbane.’

He turned on the charm. ‘Nice, France. We shall stay on the Promenade — you’ll love the old hotel, and we can eat at the best restaurants, drink the finest wine, even visit a cellar owned by a good friend of mine a few kilometres outside the city.’

Riley put her hands on her hips and stared at him. ‘Fancy hotels, vintage wines, gourmet food. Who are you, and what have you done with the biker I was with in Newcastle? The man who ate cheese and bread, drank coffee from a thermos, rode over uneven and muddy terrain?’

Jack grinned. ‘He’s still here,
chérie .
Where do you think I learned to ride a bike? The Bellet neighbourhood north-west of Nice.’

‘And your family’s vineyard?’

‘Further inland, about an hour or so drive from the Riviera. I thought we’d go there once I’ve finished my business in Nice.’

She seemed conflicted. Jack gave her a moment to process then interrupted her thoughts. ‘Your husband invites you to Nice on holiday, and you have to think about it this hard? Our business shouldn’t take but a day or so, and then we can relax, whatever my wife desires.’

The idea formed before Riley could contain it. Travel to Nice, leave early, come home and visit Gerald Frost, hopefully without incident, and without her husband’s knowledge. She’d fly from Sydney to Hervey Bay and take a long, and probably expensive, taxi ride from there to the prison in Aldershot, less than ten miles south of Maryborough, if she remembered correctly. She’d searched on the internet when she awoke that morning. Her dearest friend from the orphanage had married and moved to Hervey Bay. Perhaps Alexandra could drive her to the prison. If Riley could trust anyone to keep her secrets and get her out of a jam, it was Lex.

With my luck, I’ll get caught. Jack will be angry. I probably won’t get anywhere by asking Frost anything. Then again, Jack is not the one without a family and a possible means to find them. What can he do? Divorce me?
‘Sure. When do we leave?’

Riley rose to the occasion, finished telling Jack what she needed, provided him with a list, then went back to the main house with him to pack for France. All the while her heart thudded so fast and hard she feared she’d pull an Amelia act and pass out.

She thought back to their conversation.
Your husband. My wife.
Such simple words he’d used, with complex meanings, particularly in her case. Hadn’t she longed to belong, give meaning to her vows? Wouldn’t her visiting Frost seem like a betrayal to Jack? He’d already told her he didn’t think it a good idea. Was she willing to risk losing the closeness they were developing?

Riley hadn’t decided what to do. She went through the motions of packing, eating, mundane activities. But all she could think about was her daring plan. She’d not travelled much, had led a rather secluded life until she met Jack. As little as two months ago she’d have scoffed at the idea she’d strike out across the eastern coast of Australia on her own in pursuit of a conversation with what was probably a mad and dangerous man. He had to be crazy to contemplate killing three helpless children. Kudos to him for not going through with it, but if he’d struck out with intentions of earning his money, that alone was a red flag signalling he was demented.

While Jack and Amelia talked and she was supposedly napping, Riley took the time to phone Lex and ask for help.

‘Babe, you know I’d do anything to help, but have you thought this out?’ Lex’s deep voice resonated comfort and concern.

‘I’m sure.’ Riley told her friend what she needed — to be certain Frost was still in prison at Aldershot and to be confident Lex would drive her. ‘And if you will, find out if I need to be on some sort of visitors’ list before seeing him. That’s if he’ll speak to me.’

Her friend conceded. ‘I’ll ring you tomorrow sometime before your plane leaves Sydney. Better yet, I’ll text you so Jack doesn’t suspect. And no worries about putting me out. The kids are with their father on a trip to Singapore for another week.’

‘I owe you, luv.’ Riley said goodbye and tried settling down for a nap, but it wasn’t to be.

She jerked to attention at the knock on her door. Guiltily, she called out for whoever was on the other side to come in. Jack would have simply opened the door, so it had to be Amelia.

No. To Riley’s dismay, it was Sharon,

Like a stick figure in Dior, with the personality of a sock, the woman entered Riley’s private abode as if she owned it. Sharon walked to the French doors and opened them without asking, appearing to look out over the balcony.

Still not looking at Riley, she spoke. ‘Amelia tells me you and Jack are leaving for France tomorrow. I was hoping you and I could get better acquainted. I’m sure you have much to tell me. It’s been so long since we last saw one another.’

Riley sat up in bed. ‘There’s not much to tell.’

Sharon laughed, but the sound was harsh. ‘I’m sure you can do better than that. I mean, you must have had adventures. For instance, how did you and Jack meet again?’ She snapped her fingers. ‘Oh, that’s right — you interviewed for a job.’

She motioned toward the balcony. ‘It’s a lovely day. Why don’t we sit out here?’

‘I’d rather remain inside.’ It was a lie, but Riley had no intention of letting the other woman get the upper hand.

‘As you wish.’ Sharon sat at the small table near a window and waved at the chair opposite her. ‘Are you going to stay in bed and make me have this conversation with you from across the room?’

Riley reluctantly swung her legs from beneath the covers and padded over to the table, not bothering to brush her hair or put on her shoes — it was her room, dammit, not Sharon’s. What the blazes did she want anyway?

The older woman postured, tossing her hair and leaning back so she could lay an arm across the back of her chair. ‘I’m wondering how you got as far as you did searching for your heritage. You have to admit, it’s remarkable that you’re alive. When did you think of looking for your family?’

Riley frowned. ‘When you’re abandoned, the thought is with you every day from the moment you realise you’re different.’

‘But you had no money to pay detectives. No clue where to start. I find it fascinating that you are sitting before me as if none of this had happened.’

Something told Riley not to trust her. ‘I got lucky.’

Sharon was silent a moment. Her nostrils flared, giving her face an unsympathetic harshness. ‘Nobody, not even the Irish, is that fortunate.’

Chameleon- like, she was immediately smiling. ‘But we’re glad you are here.’ Then she grew more serious. ‘Have you given any thought to finding your brother and sister?’

‘Of course.’ Riley damned herself for having tipped her hand.

‘Any idea where to start looking?’

Riley shook her head, quite willing to lie to protect her secrets. A devilish thought tickled her consciousness. ‘Maybe you could help me?”

Sharon blinked. ‘Me? Darling, I wouldn’t have a clue how to go about something like this, but we can ask Patrick. He’s sure to know something to give you a jump-start.’

She never mentioned Jack. I wonder why she’d rather I talk to her son than to my husband?

‘Sounds like a good idea,’ Riley said. “Will you talk to him for me?’

Sharon quirked her lips. ‘I’ll get back to you as soon as you return from France, dear.’

‘I’m stuffed.’ Riley pushed her plate forward. The grilled steak, fried prawns, and vegetables had been more than enough, and if she took another delicious bite of those stuffed tomatoes and squash, she’d pop.

‘You’re not disappointed?’ Jack surveyed her half-eaten meal.

Riley didn’t care that they were in a four-star restaurant. She leaned forward, propped her elbows on the table, hands in her palms. ‘Yes, it’s a total shock to my system, rich food, beautiful scenery, the south of France in April.’ She gave a mock sigh. ‘What is it, 12 or 13 degrees Celsius?’

Jack flashed pearly white teeth, the first real smile she’d seen from him during the past five and a half days they’d been in Nice. Most of the time, he’d walked around with stern concentration unless they were sightseeing.

He wiped his lips with his napkin. ‘You don’t mind that I have two more meetings today?’

She sat upright and cleared her throat. Now was as good a time as any to broach the subject. ‘I don’t mind if you don’t.’ Riley brushed a shock of hair from his forehead.