Seducing the Secret Heiress (3 page)

He looked off into the distance, sipped his prosecco and pretended to ignore her protests.

She let out an exasperated breath. ‘Do you really want to share a bed with Rupert for the next few days?'

The mention of sharing a bed brought his eyes back to her face.

He hadn't meant to hold her for so long on the beach, but somehow he hadn't wanted to let her go. She'd acted selflessly, without a thought for her own safety, then had spent hours looking after a small child she didn't know. Most of the women who crossed his path would have been too busy looking around to see if they were being noticed. Watching her now, he couldn't help sliding his gaze appreciatively over her body. Fortunately she didn't seem to notice as she sat forward in her chair.

‘You don't want some stranger hanging around,' she said.

‘No, I don't.'

He leaned over the table and dropped a quick kiss on her soft lips.

‘So, now we're not strangers.'

The kiss had been designed to put Charlie at ease, break down the barriers. But from the moment his lips touched hers, Gabe wanted her. He pulled away quickly. He'd brought her home to shelter her, not seduce her. But being with a woman who wanted nothing from him was intoxicating. Perhaps he should just tell her who he was and then he'd be on familiar ground. She'd want to be in his next TV show and he'd put all his usual defences in place.

He sat down and glanced over at her. She smiled and his heart beat a little faster. No, a little bit of anonymity would do no harm at all.

Charlie lay in Rupert's single bed listening to Amelia's steady breathing. The morning sun streamed through the shutters.

That overwhelming sense of emptiness had gone. She closed her eyes and smiled. Gone.

Her circumstances had changed in such a short time. From sitting alone on a beach ready to throw in the towel, to sharing champagne on a moonlit night with a sexy stranger.

Not a stranger any more.

She snuggled under the sheets. Well, according to the words and actions of one hot Mr Gabe – she didn't even know his last name. Oh well, she had five wonderful days to find out more about the intriguing Gabe What's-his-name.

Her fingers strayed to her lips. Of course the kiss meant nothing to Gabe. He'd just been trying to put her at ease. But it had made her feel hopeful.

No, not hopeful. Adventurous. Bold. Light-hearted. Sexy. A warm glow flowed through her. Paul had never stirred these feelings in her but Gabe had done all that with one quick kiss. However, the thought of her ex-fiancé obliterated her joy like being splashed with a bucket of icy water.

When the son of the billionaire oil magnate began courting her, she hadn't been interested. But then he'd shown such interest in her cooking. It was the first time anyone had taken her passion seriously. He'd encouraged her dreams and she'd been intoxicated by his attention.

Paul had whisked her away to so many exotic locations that their courtship seemed a bit of a blur, but her parents had been thrilled. They'd paid more attention to her during the planning of the wedding than they'd ever done. And she wanted more. The idea of her marrying Paul obviously made them happy. It seemed for the first time in her life they were actually proud of her.

But once the wedding had been organised, the attention stopped. When Charlotte called her mother to arrange shopping trips, Elizabeth always had an excuse ready. Her father had no time for lunch and was as distant as ever. And her fiancé . . . Remembering, she swallowed with difficulty.

‘For goodness' sake, Charlotte, don't be such a fool,' her father had lectured her when she'd come to him for help. ‘So he's unfaithful. Big deal.' He waved his hand dismissively. ‘Do you think I'm faithful to your mother?'

She remembered losing her capacity to think at that point. Her shock had made him laugh. She'd known her parents had a crap marriage, but this?

‘Think about it. I own the biggest, most profitable family-owned diamond mining business in the world. You are my only child and I have no other relatives.'

He'd shaken his head and looked at her with disdain.

‘Marriage is to protect your assets and give you an heir,' her father had informed her. ‘I thought you understood that. Why do you think we organised this marriage to Paul?'

She'd stood in his office, her life crashing around her.

‘Get pregnant, have a son – two sons – and then do whatever the hell you want.'

He'd come around his desk and put his hands on her shoulders. ‘Discreetly, of course. Don't do anything to tarnish the family name.'

She rolled onto her back and listened to the soothing sounds of the sea. Her thoughts strayed back to Gabe. His fleeting kiss seemed to mark the end of her old life and the beginning of something new – something exciting and untainted by the poisonous tentacles of her family. But if Gabe discovered her identity, things would change. They always did.

She sat up. How long could she live as just Charlie, a nobody backpacker? Probably not for long. She sighed. But anonymity was addictive.

‘What's wrong?'

She flinched and looked over at the other bed in the room. Amelia was watching her intently, as only little children do.

‘Oh! Nothing, sweetheart. I had a bad dream.'

‘Me too.'

‘What was your dream about?' Charlie asked, propping herself up on her elbow.

‘Sinking.'

The stark statement propelled Charlie quickly out of bed and across the room. She sat next to Amelia and stroked the little girl's soft blonde hair.

‘You're okay.'

The child lay quietly for a while.

‘Are you Uncle Gabe's girlfriend now?'

Charlie's breath stuck halfway to her lungs.

‘No, no, sweetheart. We're just friends.' A smile crept across her face.

Yeah, they were friends. A friend that had nothing to do with her family, the family business or the family name. A single, sexy Englishman friend.

‘Come on,' she said, gently hauling Amelia out of bed. ‘Uncle Gabe says we're off to Pisa today.'

‘Where that tower's falling down?'

‘Well, the tower's leaning over. It won't fall down.' At least, she hoped, not today.

‘Are you coming too?' Amelia asked, taking her hand.

‘Yup.'

‘Hooray.' Amelia performed a little dance then dragged Charlie from the bedroom. The child's excitement felt like a warm blanket on a cold, bleak day. It felt great to be really wanted.

‘Uncle Gabe! Charlie's coming with us to Pisa,' Amelia shouted as she pulled Charlie across the living room towards the other bedroom.

‘Shh, sweetheart. The boys are probably still asleep.'

‘Not likely.'

Charlie turned. Gabe sat at the kitchen table playing cards with Rupert.

Oh, no. No bra. No shorts. Just the T-shirt Gabe had loaned her, which only came to the tops of her thighs.

Her face flashed red and she pulled at the hem of the shirt.

‘I'll, um . . . I'll just . . .' She backed quickly into the bedroom.

Charlotte whacked herself on the forehead.
Idiot. Nice man asks you to stay and you run around virtually naked.

She took her time getting dressed then left the sanctuary of the bedroom.

‘Sorry about that,' she said. She could still feel the warmth in her cheeks.

‘I didn't think Aussie girls were prudish. Don't you spend your whole lives wandering around in bikinis, surfing and playing with kangaroos?'

‘I'm not prudish.' Argh. She sounded so defensive. ‘And I don't surf,' she added lightly.

Gabe regarded her quizzically.

‘You play with kangaroos?' he asked with only a trace of a smile.

The kids stared at her in awe.

‘Wow, do you really play with kangaroos?' Amelia asked.

Charlie threw Gabe a pointed look.

‘No, sweetheart, but I once had a pet bearded dragon. During my tomboy phase,' she added for Gabe's benefit.

‘You had a pet dragon? Sick,' Rupert piped up.

Gabe flicked his gaze to the ceiling. ‘Oh, the ruination of the English language.'

‘I thought you Brits believed we'd already ruined it.'

‘No. You Aussies just mangle it.'

‘Right! Thanks very much,' she said with her broadest Aussie twang.

Gabe's intense gaze made her nervous. Nervous and excited. She needed something to do.

‘How about I whip up some pancakes for breakfast?'

‘Yes. Yes. Pancakes!' Rupert cried.

‘Mmm. CPR. Child whisperer. Cook.' Gabe sat back in his chair. ‘What other hidden talents do you have, Ms . . .?'Gabe paused, smiled and raised his eyebrows.

Once he knew who she was, how would he react?

‘Brown.'

Brown?
Why had she said Brown?

‘Charlie Brown. Nice,' he remarked. ‘Where's Snoopy?'

Charlie frowned. Then it dawned. She rolled her eyes to the ceiling. She'd named herself after a cartoon character. One who failed at almost everything.

‘Sorry.' Gabe had obviously read the expression on her face. ‘I guess you've heard that one before.'

He reached across the table and shook her hand.

‘Gabe Grenville. Nice to meet you again, Charlie Brown.' He smiled that killer smile.

What have I done?
She couldn't take it back. She'd look like an idiot or crazy or both. She forced herself to calm down. After all, Gabe would be gone in a few days. Then she would put Charlie Brown to rest and take up the burden of being Charlotte Wentworth again.

But it didn't sit right. She had to come clean. She'd just explain that she was travelling incognito.

‘Gabe.'

‘Yes?'

Tell him.
‘Got any maple syrup in the cupboard?'

‘Will this do?' Gabe asked, pointing through a shop window. Charlie looked at the tiny shop. This was probably the only boutique in the town.

All the mannequins were wearing brightly coloured summer outfits.

‘Perfect.' She'd be happy with almost anything. ‘I'll be quick.'

‘Take your time. We've got all day, remember.'

As Charlie flicked through the racks, she realised she wasn't selecting clothes suitable for backpacking – she wanted to impress Gabe. She slipped on a pair of slim-fit white Capri trousers. She eyed herself in the mirror from every angle. They looked good.

Sexy.

She teamed the trousers with a casual black top and surveyed herself in the mirror. For probably the first time in her life, she wasn't decked out head-to-toe in designer labels.

Her mother would never let her wear high-street labels. ‘Common,' she called them.

‘Well take this, Mother,' Charlie said to the mirror as she decided to buy three new
common
outfits. In fact, she would wear the one she had on out of the store. Gathering up the rest of the clothes, she left the change room and placed them on the counter. Pulling a credit card from her wallet, she handed it to the sales assistant.

‘
È diminuito
,' the woman said a few minutes later.

Charlie stared at the woman's sullen face. ‘Sorry?'

Instead of answering, the sales assistant picked up a pair of scissors, held up Charlie's credit card and snipped it in half.

For a moment Charlie stood looking blank, astonished. ‘Hey,' Charlie exclaimed. ‘You can't do that.' But the woman simply picked up the stack of new clothes and placed them out of Charlie's reach as if she expected her to snatch them and run.

Charlie dived back into her wallet. The woman's disapproving eyes narrowed. No way could she be over the limit on that card. She pulled out her platinum plastic. At least this one had no limit. She smiled and handed it over.

The machine again erupted into agitated beeps. In a flash the platinum card suffered the same fate.

‘Everything okay?'

Charlie swung around to see Gabe watching the sales woman cutting up her vital plastic. Charlie's face burned.

‘Just a little trouble with my credit card,' she said, frantically looking through her wallet for more options.

The woman made a show of hurling the plastic pieces into the bin with a flourish.

‘Here, let me get them,' Gabe offered.

Charlie held up her hands. ‘No way. I'm not letting you pay.'

She thrust another card at the sales assistant. It quickly lost its financial life.

The woman strode around the counter and began pushing Charlie towards the change room, a stream of Italian whipping from her lips. She clearly wanted Charlie out the door and out of sight.

‘
Basta
,' Gabe said. Charlie stood in silence as Gabe handed over his credit card. The sales assistant smiled at Gabe provocatively. She flirted outrageously with him as she processed the payment, all the while firing Charlie dirty looks whenever she thought Gabe wasn't looking.

When they emerged onto the street, Charlie's face was burning as hot as an Aussie sunburn.

‘I'm so embarrassed,' she said, not meeting his eyes. ‘We're going to find an ATM right now, so I can pay you back.'

‘Calm down, Charlie. Remember, I know where you live.'

Charlie stared into her wallet at the remaining battery of cards. Why weren't they working?

Fear, stark and vivid, gripped her heart. She slammed her purse shut. Of course.

Paul. Joint accounts.

She moaned involuntarily.

‘What is it?' Gabe asked putting his arm around her shoulders.

‘Nothing,' she said, stepping from his grasp. She had to think, and having Gabe up close and personal made that impossible. She paced a little ahead of him and the kids.

Paul must have frozen her accounts. She fought to keep control, clenching her hands tight. What an idiot. She'd given him access to all of them.

‘Charlie?'

‘We must find an ATM,' she said urgently.

‘Sure. Is everything okay?'

‘I'm sure everything is fine, I just . . .' She walked ahead, not wanting Gabe to see her panicked expression.

A few minutes later Charlie stared at the ugly truth. Empty. Every one of her accounts flashed up zero. A sick feeling crawled through her stomach. She blinked hard. She was carrying some cash but she'd be out of funds in less than two weeks. Then what? She'd be forced to go home. She banged the edge of the ATM. That was obviously Paul's intention.

‘All fixed?' Gabe asked, coming up behind her.

She plastered her face with a smile.

‘Something seems to be wrong with my accounts. I'll ring home when we get back from Pisa.'

With no money, Paul would get his way. She'd be forced home before she'd even had a chance to stand alone.

‘Come on,' she said, forcing excitement into her voice. If she only had a few days left, she was determined to enjoy them.

The day in Pisa flew by in a buzz of giggles, photos and fun. They all tumbled through the apartment door late that afternoon and Charlie realised it was the first time since she'd left Australia that she hadn't obsessed over the ruin of her life.

She smiled secretly. Perhaps this crazy trip hadn't been such a bad idea after all.

Gabe sat Rupert on the couch. The little boy flopped over and shut his eyes.

‘I'll go give these kids a quick snack and a bath. I reckon they'll crash in about five minutes.'

‘No worries. I'll go to the supermarket and pick up some stuff for dinner.'

‘Let's order pizza,' Gabe suggested.

‘Didn't my pancakes prove my prowess in the kitchen?'

‘We're in Italy. You know – purveyors of pizza, pasta and prosecco.'

She flicked her hand dismissively. ‘Amateurs!'

‘Is that right?' he said slowly. ‘Well, this I've got to see. Meanwhile, why don't I give the kids some takeaway pizza.”

An hour later, Charlie was pulling fresh ingredients from a bag and placing them onto the kitchen bench. Soon the heady aroma of fresh herbs drifted sweetly on the air. It seemed a lifetime since she'd experienced free rein in the kitchen and she relished every delicious moment of it.

Growing up, any participation in the usual domestic duties had been strictly forbidden. Her mother had been adamant.

‘Let the staff do it,' she'd scolded when Charlie had wanted to help around the house.

But Charlie always gravitated to the kitchen. The kitchen meant warmth, tempting smells and, most importantly, people who showed her some affection. The cook and her daughter had seemed more like family than her own parents. Whenever she could, Charlie ate simple dinners with them rather than with her parents in the formal dining room.

‘The kids are out cold.' Gabe's deep voice sounded in her ear.

She jumped. ‘You scared me.'

‘Sorry.' Gabe laughed. ‘Didn't mean to sneak up on you.' He put an arm around her shoulders and stared into the pots. ‘Smells amazing.'

Hyper-aware of the warmth of his arm, it took her a moment to answer.

‘It'll be ready in a few minutes,' she said, trying to sound casual, as if his touch were the most normal thing in the world.

He dipped his finger in the sauce and slipped it into his mouth.

‘Hey,' she said, hitting the back of his hand playfully with a wooden spoon. If he kept this up, she wouldn't be able to concentrate. ‘Not until it's ready.'

Gabe just grinned and opened the fridge. ‘Drink?'

‘Love one. Thanks.'

He'd showered and changed. His jeans hugged his legs and hips and she couldn't help admiring the view as he leaned over to retrieve a bottle of wine. His white T-shirt hugged his muscled back and his sun-kissed arms.

She looked away quickly as he held up the bottle. Dinner could be at risk with Gabe in the room.

She tried to keep her eyes on the stove as he poured the prosecco, but simmering rice couldn't compete with red-hot man.

He handed her a glass.

‘
Salute
.' As he held his glass up for her to clink, he dipped his finger into the sauce again and licked it clean.

She groaned inwardly. It was Gabe or the dinner. And she wanted to impress, so dinner won.

‘Out,' she said, flicking his thigh with a tea towel.

‘Hey,' he said, jumping back. ‘That hurt.'

She laughed at his wounded face. ‘It did not.'

‘Really?' He made a grab for the towel.

She nailed him again, this time on the wrist. He leaped back again.

‘Stop that,' he said, but he was laughing.

‘Make me,' she said, twirling her tea towel provocatively. Kitchen games were her speciality. ‘But I warn you, I'm good at this.'

Gabe's eyebrows arched at the challenge.

‘Right,' he said. ‘You asked for it.' His tone pitched between playfulness and menace.

Charlie turned and quickly grabbed all the other tea towels. He didn't have a chance without a weapon.

‘Now what are you going to do?' she asked triumphantly.

When she turned to face him, her exultation vanished. She'd missed the towel near the chopping board. He picked it up and waved it threateningly.

‘No,' she said, edging away. ‘You wouldn't.'

He stepped closer, an evil smile on his face as he prepared to attack.

‘Don't you know, you should never take on the cook?' she said, stepping to put the island bench between them.

He kept coming. Evil and gorgeous.

She narrowed her eyes. No way would she take this lying down. She looked around the kitchen and spied the ultimate weapon. Gabe followed her gaze.

‘No,' he said, straightening quickly.

She didn't answer but slid closer to the carton of eggs.

‘Truce?' he said, matching her slow steps towards the potential arsenal.

‘Forget it,' she said, grabbing for the carton. Gabe flicked her hand aside. He snatched up an egg and held it high over her head. She braced for an avalanche of eggshell and goo.

‘Okay. Okay. Truce,' she said, holding her hand above her head and backing away. ‘Come on, dinner'll be wrecked.'

He shook the egg ominously in front of her face.

‘On one condition,' he said, cheekily.

‘What?' she asked standing rigid in defeat while looking around wildly for something with which to defend herself.

‘You say, “Gabe's the best.”'

She snorted. ‘What are you, twelve?'

He laughed, obviously agreeing with the absurdity of his request. ‘So the kids have rubbed off on me.' He cocked his head. ‘But you're not getting out of it. So come on.' He took a step closer. ‘Gabe's the best.'

‘Gabe's the—' She grabbed a carton of cream to use as a shield, then had a better idea.

The long white stream flew through the air. It splattered all over his chest with a large splash down his cheek.

The look on his face! She collapsed with laughter.

‘That's it. You've had it,' he said.

‘No,' she screamed and rushed to put the kitchen bench between them again.

She didn't make it.

Gabe caught her at the waist, turned her and wrapped his arms around her. He pulled her close so her breasts crushed against his chest.

A luscious heat cascaded through her body. His body felt hard. Strong. Fantastic.

‘Take that,' he said, laughing as he rubbed her with his cream-spattered body. Was he trying to kill her with desire? She swallowed hard, but her mouth felt dry.

She felt every powerful muscle as they slid over her. The cream oozed between their bodies. It didn't seem like a game anymore. He had to stop or she'd do something stupid.

They'd do something stupid.

‘And this,' he said, drawing his creamy cheek slowly across her face, covering her in the cool, velvet liquid.

She dragged in a ragged breath, feeling momentarily drunk with the bouquet of fresh cream and delicious man.

Gabe tensed, his lips millimetres from hers. He looked down and sought her eyes. The air between them seemed to flare as if ignited. He smoothed a strand of hair from her face. Every cell in her body quivered with anticipation.

His lips lightly touched her forehead. She could hardly breathe.

‘Gabe?' she whispered.

Then the tip of her nose.

‘Shh.'

‘Are you having a food fight?' In an instant, Rupert's sleepy words sucked the room of its sensuality.

Gabe jumped away from her as if she were a snake ready to strike. The mood changed so fast the room seemed to spin.

‘No. Charlie dropped the cream,' Gabe said, grabbing a tea towel and wiping his face. ‘What are you doing up, young man?'

‘I wet the bed.'

Silence.

He looked at her

She looked at him.

Gabe grinned. ‘Don't worry. Look. Charlie's all wet too.'

She hoped the cream hid the colour rising in her cheeks.

Taking Rupert by the hand, Gabe led him from the room. Before he disappeared from view, he turned and winked. ‘I'll deal with you later.'

Charlie leaned back against the bench. Her body tingled with yearning. Wow. Perhaps this is what a junkie feels like when deprived of a fix.

It was wrong.

She picked up a tea towel and wiped the cream from her face.

It went against all the decisions she'd made when she'd left Australia. She'd thought she'd known everything about Paul, but he'd betrayed her so completely. And now, here she was kissing a virtual stranger. Had she learned nothing? She'd vowed to take time to discover herself. Who she was and what she wanted. Falling for a hot foreigner was definitely not part of the plan.

She threw the tea towel back on the bench.