The Billionaire Boss's Innocent Bride (11 page)

She stared up at him, her eyes huge. ‘You…you heard?’

He shook his head. ‘Only the last bit when he offered you his friendship. But you’d have to be blind not to know there’s a whole lot more he’d like to offer you. He’s also thoroughly nice—what have you got against him?’

Alex felt a spike of sheer annoyance surge through her veins that was as unexpected as it was irrational. But, at that moment, she felt Max Goodwin was the last person she needed advice from on her—non-existent but all the same—love life. Anyway, whose fault was it Paul O’Hara didn’t affect her at all?

She opened her mouth, tried to caution herself against doing anything silly, but days of turmoil and trying to hide the truth from him and herself saw her suddenly snap…

She said huskily, ‘What have I got against him? He’s not you.’

She paused with her lips parted as his eyes changed, went from bleak to incredulous, then her fingers flew to her mouth in a telling little gesture that shouted her thoughts—What on earth have I done?

She also couldn’t help the blush that burned her cheeks and she lurched into speech to attempt, at least, to ground her statement in reality. ‘Not that I mean to burden you with it! I fully realize there’s probably light years between us in—in that kind of context,’ she stammered.

He said nothing but his eyes were hooded and heavy, then, ‘Light years?’ he repeated. ‘No. And perhaps this will make you understand how highly desirable you are, Alex, for once and for all. Certainly not the last woman on the planet…’ And he put his arms around her.

She stood frozen in the circle of them as his heavy blue gaze followed the line of her throat down to the rise and fall of her breasts so intently—so intently that her nipples flowered spontaneously. It drew a tingling response that spread down the length of her body and made her feel soft and satiny even though she was fully clothed.

It did more. It made her yearn for the feel of his body on hers, taut and hard against her curves, and she was possessed by the image of them undressing each other item by item until there were no barriers between them. Until she was compliant and melting inwardly at his every touch…

She noticed the little scar on his left eyebrow and she badly wanted to touch it lightly with her fingertips. She wanted, urgently, to be kissed and to be able to kiss him back.

She couldn’t help herself. She reached up and touched that little scar with her fingertip—and the flow of static between them rose dramatically as his hands tightened on her waist. And, in the moment before he bent his head to kiss her, she experienced the sensation she thought she’d misread once before. It was as if they were alone on the planet, drinking each other in…

It was everything she’d dreamt about, their kiss. The feel of his mouth on hers, his hand on her breast, fired her to revel in their closeness, to marvel at what she’d had tantalizing glimpses of, but not guessed the full wonder of—the magic of being in the arms of the man you loved. The taste, the feel, the joy at the sheer fineness of Max Goodwin in all his tall, beautifully built splendour thrilled her and filled her with exquisite sensations, but, not only that, the feeling that to be in his arms was like no other place on earth.

And all the complications of loving Max Goodwin melted away as if they’d never existed…

There also came the sudden confidence that there might not be light years between them and she could match that mind-blowing sexy force in him. In fact when he raised his head abruptly she thought it was so he could say something personal and intimate that would put the perfect seal on their togetherness. He didn’t. He stared down at her and she could see his tortured expression before he closed his eyes briefly, then put her away from him.

Alex had a blinding, momentary sensation that she’d been left alone on a high, icy plateau. That she’d been left exposed and vulnerable and rejected. She put her fingers to her lips and stared at him out of huge shadowed eyes again. He lifted his hands, then, as if on second thoughts, shoved them in his pockets. And the look in his eyes was brooding and sombre. ‘I should never have done that. I’m sorry.’

‘Please don’t say that,’ she whispered.

He gritted his teeth. ‘Alex, I must. I’ve got a lot of baggage, you’re probably aware of that more than most, and some pretty unpleasant water has passed under my bridge. Those are the only light years between us, but they’re crucial factors and they’d be more of a burden than any man in his right mind would want to place on you.’

He paused and his expression softened. ‘Whereas you’ve got it all in front of you, my dear. You can do it right, you will do it right, and once you find someone to love, someone to have children with, you need never be alone again.’

‘But—’

‘No, Alex.’ He shook his head. ‘You will always have my affection and I’ll never forget what you did for Nicky.’ He smiled but not with his eyes. ‘The other thing is, you look so lovely tonight, I wouldn’t have been the only man who wanted to kiss you.’

If she’d been rejected once tonight, Alex thought, this was even more comprehensive, and the shock of it saw silent tears well and stream down her cheeks.

Max Goodwin moved abruptly, but before he could do or say anything that was how Margaret Winston found them.

‘Oh, there you are, Mr Goodwin!’ Her expression was distressed as she came through the gate. ‘I’ve been searching high and low. Your absence is becoming noticeable—’ She broke off. ‘Why, Alex! What’s happened to you?’

‘Margaret, could you take care of Alex for me?’ Max said. ‘She’s—she needs a bit of help. In the meantime I’ll get back.’ He turned back to Alex and added gently, ‘Don’t go anywhere, don’t do anything, I’ll fix everything.’ He paused as he captured Alex’s gaze briefly. ‘Goodnight, my dear.’ And he turned and strode out.

‘Alex, are you sure you’re OK?’

It was morning-tea time the next day and they were having it on the terrace, when Margaret Winston asked that question.

There was little left to do to restore the Tuscan villa to its pre-dinner-dance spick and span and that was not surprising. A small army of cleaners had descended on the house almost from sun-up.

Alex sighed inwardly. She’d answered that question a few times already. ‘I’m fine, I promise you. I don’t know what got into me last night, but it’s over, really. And I’ve got Mrs Hill, I’ve got Nicky, I’ve got Nemo!’ she added with a spark of humour. Margaret looked uncharacteristically severe. ‘I still can’t get over that woman doing this to Mr Goodwin.’

Alex poured a cup of fragrant herb tea into a delicate porcelain cup and watched it swirl before she put the silver teapot down as it occurred to her that Margaret Winston was one person who didn’t seem to have fond memories of Cathy Spencer. She shrugged. ‘Anyway, don’t feel guilty about going back to Brisbane. I’m sure Mr Goodwin needs you more than I do.’

‘Well…’ Margaret hesitated ‘…there are inevitably some loose ends to be tied up. He’s personally farewelling the delegation at the airport this afternoon, and he has a couple of press conferences scheduled for tomorrow.’ She stood up but hesitated.

‘If you’re really sure?’

Alex stood up too and hugged her impulsively. ‘Thank you. You’ve been so kind.’

Alex finished her tea on her own after Margaret’s departure.

Nicky and Brad, with Stan’s help, were constructing a cubby house and didn’t seem to need her at all.

She thought back to last night. Margaret had come up to her room with her and, after Alex had taken a shower, she’d brought her a cup of Milo. Whether Margaret had formed her own conclusions about why she was in the state she was, Alex didn’t know, but, beyond reassuring herself it wasn’t a health issue, Margaret had probed no further.

She probably guessed, Alex thought as she sipped her tea and curled her feet up under her in the basket chair. It had to have been fairly obvious. She’d not only been weeping, she’d probably been looking shell-shocked and she had just been comprehensively kissed.

What she’d managed to hide from Margaret this morning was the fact that she still felt shell-shocked. She could never forget that kiss. Just thinking about it made her pulses hammer and reminded her of how she’d felt during it, and not only the physical thrills, but the reaching-for-the-stars joy it had brought her. Then that terrible plunge back to earth…

There was also the burning question of what happened now. He’d said he’d fix everything, he’d obviously driven back to Brisbane last night, but was there any point in her not taking matters into her own hands?

Should she stay? If she stayed she would somehow have to contain her feelings for Max Goodwin, but she’d made that decision once before, only to have it rebound on her in a matter of days. And what would she get out of staying?

She moved restlessly. Just to be near him, just to be there for him, perhaps a backstop for Nicky—no. That wouldn’t be going forward, it would be standing still, it would be inviting all sorts of trauma, but…

She drank her tea and pushed the cup and saucer away.

Would he want her to stay now he’d fallen prey to a momentary lapse of the senses?

And now that he’d had to issue a warning that he wasn’t for her? Probably not. So how, if she made the decision to leave rather than the agony of being pushed, could she do it?

It would be so much easier to do nothing, she thought unhappily. On the other hand, how was she going to cope with seeing him again, the memories of being kissed, the pain of that rejection?

But—I need three hands, she thought miserably. I can’t just abandon Nicky.

‘Alex,’ Mrs Mills said anxiously as she shook her awake very early the next morning,

‘Miss Spencer is here and I’m afraid she wants to take Nicky away with her. Stan is trying to track down Mr Goodwin in Brisbane but no one seems to be able to find him at the moment. Will you come and speak to her, please?’

Alex sat up and rubbed her knuckles across her eyes. ‘Say that again,’ she requested huskily and incredulously, then, ‘No, I got it, but—but what can I say to her? And there’s no way we can stop her. He’s her son.’

‘But don’t you think—’ Mrs Mills lowered her voice a notch ‘—that for Nicky’s sake, some negotiations, or whatever, need to be made between Miss Spencer and Mr Goodwin—and Nicky should at least be able to say goodbye to his father if that’s the way it’s going to be? He’s still asleep, by the way.’

Alex rubbed her face and combed her fingers through her hair. ‘Um—yes.’

‘And you are his personal assistant, aren’t you? Mr Goodwin’s.’

‘Yes.’

‘I’ve put her in the pink sitting room. I’ve persuaded her to let Nicky sleep. And I’m going down now to make some coffee for her, for you both. Please, Alex,’ Mrs Mills pleaded. ‘This is a very awkward situation for me!’

Alex sighed, then she hugged Mrs Mills quickly and pushed aside the bedclothes.

‘I’ll be down in a few minutes. I’ll just have a quick shower and get dressed.’

Cathy Spencer turned from the window as Alex entered the pink sitting room. Her eyes narrowed and hardened as they fell on Alex wearing jeans, a soft green track top and with her damp hair hastily tied back.

‘Personal Assistant, according to Mrs Mills,’ she said bitterly. ‘I should have expected it to be very personal, Miss—Hill, isn’t it?’

Alex stared at her. Cathy Spencer looked like a different person from the one she’d met in the penthouse foyer. Gone was the fire and the passion, gone also was the gloss. She looked tired and strained. Even her clothes were sombre, a black polo-neck sweater over indigo jeans, a buff trench coat and high-heeled boots. Her river of dark hair—it didn’t seem to possess the life it had had—was clasped at her neck.

‘Miss Spencer,’ she said and gazed at her levelly, ‘it’s not personal at all. And this—’

she gestured to take in the surroundings ‘—has only come about because Nicky took a completely unexpected shine to me after you left him with a father he’d never met.’

Alex stopped, then attempted to articulate her next thoughts. ‘Please believe me, I don’t—I know it’s not my place to make judgements so I’m simply stating the facts. And that is all there is to it.’

To her amazement, she saw Cathy Spencer put her hands to her face, and she saw tears dripping through her fingers.

‘Oh,’ Alex said. ‘Oh, please don’t—I didn’t mean to make you cry!’ She looked around a little desperately and spied the tray Mrs Mills must have delivered while she was showering. ‘Let’s—let’s have some coffee.’

Cathy took her hands from her face and sniffed. ‘Sorry,’ she said huskily and blew her nose, ‘but the reason I’m here is because my mother died yesterday.’

Alex looked horrified. ‘Oh, no! How? I thought the operation had been a success. Look, please sit down.’

Cathy sat after a moment’s hesitation. ‘It was a success but she had a heart attack out of the blue.’

‘I’m so sorry.’ Alex took her a cup of coffee, then sat down opposite with her own. ‘I lost my own mother, and father, a few years ago, so I know what it’s like. I’m so sorry.’

‘Thank you. Nicky also loved her dearly and she was wonderful with him.’ She grimaced. ‘Better than I was, actually. She had so much patience. I don’t know what I’m going to do without her. Of course, that’s not why I’m so sad.’

‘No,’ Alex agreed, and waited.

‘I feel guilty that I may not have let her know how much I loved and appreciated her. I feel terrible because she was too young. I can’t help wondering if she had some sort of presentiment and that’s why she insisted I must tell Max about Nicky.’

She stopped and shook her head. ‘She always said I should, but I don’t take kindly to people telling me what to do even when I know they’re right. Then a month or so ago she said she would if I didn’t—that’s what’s made me wonder if she had a premonition…But I don’t think anyone could understand how hard it was to do.’ She stopped helplessly. ‘Then I didn’t know how Max and I would react to each other and whether Nicky would sense it.’

She broke off and closed her eyes, then looked across at Alex. ‘How are Nicky and Max getting along?’

‘Pretty well.’

‘And you say he took a shine to you?’