The Boss's Proposal (19 page)

He was waiting for her at the bar, and it was a shock to see him, as well, more formally dressed. He was still wearing short sleeves, but his trousers were dark, and his bronzed skin gave him the appearance of someone of Italian descent. As she walked towards the table his eyes travelled once over her, then fell to his drink. He sat back in the chair, waiting until she had sat down, then called the waiter over to order a drink for her. In the silence that followed, Vicky nervously tucked her hair behind her ears, willing herself to feel the ease she'd felt with him over the past few days, but failing to find it.

‘So—' he swallowed a long mouthful of his whisky and soda, then reclined back in the chair and watched her through brooding eyes ‘—glad you came after all?'

‘It's been fun,' Vicky said, feeling like a candidate at an interview. She nervously accepted a glass of wine from the waiter and sipped from it. ‘Tiring. Chloe's been ready for bed every night by seven. In England, I have to persuade her to climb under the duvet before quarter to eight.' She smiled at the thought of her daughter being cajoled into the dreaded bed.

‘She's…a wonderful child. All credit to you.' He tilted his glass to her in a mock salute. ‘From the sounds of it, you accomplished the near-impossible against all odds.'

‘It wasn't as difficult as you make it sound,' Vicky informed him, gulping back rather more of her wine than she had set out to do and nearly choking in the process. ‘I'm no saint, just one of millions of women who find themselves in a situation where they have no choice.'

‘But you had my brother to contend with as well. My
brother with his threats and verbal abuse. And no money to cushion the future.'

‘I never thought that my future needed cushioning,' Vicky lied valiantly. ‘And I know where this is going. A long summary of my unfortunate past, followed by a swift recap of all the reasons why you should get what you want.' She'd known for a while that she had to recapture some of that lost hostility if she were to avoid complete emotional demolition. Now, she clawed and scrambled her way towards it, pretending not to see the hardening of his features. ‘Well, it won't work.' She swigged back the remainder of her wine and it flared through her head like a bolt of white heat, then she banged the glass onto the table, extracting a few curious glances from the people sitting closest to them. ‘You can see Chloe, of course you can, but within limits. Perhaps every other weekend. I don't want her life disrupted!'

‘Don't you mean that you don't want
your
life disrupted? Don't you think that she deserves to know as much about her father's family as possible? Why deny her the heritage that's hers?'

‘She's only a child! She doesn't know a thing about her heritage and doesn't care less!'

‘But she won't be a child in ten years' time, will she?' he said venomously, leaning into her, his body rigid with anger. ‘I wish to God,' he bit out furiously, ‘that you'd fill me in on what your problem is! I'm offering you safety, financial security, an arrangement that's virtually foolproof and the best possible solution for the three of us!' He slammed his fist on the table and the couple closest to them got up and moved, giving them some very suspicious backward glances, ‘What more do you need to be convinced?'

‘I don't want
an arrangement
! I want…thunder and lightning…and fireworks…and magic!'

‘Like you had with my brother?' he jeered. ‘
Those
kinds of
fireworks
?'

Vicky's face drained of colour and she stood up on shaky legs. ‘I think I've heard enough.' She gathered up her bag and tried to gather up her lost self-control as well.

‘Sit back down!' He lowered his voice to a demanding growl as the area around them cleared hurriedly. ‘Running away won't solve anything!'

‘There's nothing to solve!' She was bending towards him, her long hair hanging over one shoulder, her breasts heaving with emotion.

‘Marry me and your problems will be over!' It was an order, not a request, hurled at her by a man whose eyes were flaring like shards of silver glass, his whole body taut with the desire to bend her to his indomitable will.

And he expected her to capitulate?

‘Marry you and my problems would be about to begin!' She straightened, still shaking like a leaf. ‘I'm going to pack. And you can do your own thing tomorrow. Chloe and I will stay here by the pool.'

‘Listen to me' he commanded urgently, standing up, his long strides easily keeping up with her as she strode out of the bar.

‘Why should I?' she threw at him. ‘Because you're rich? Important? A Forbes?'

‘Because there's something I need to tell you…'

‘What?'

‘You're being bloody stubborn,' he muttered.

‘And
that's
what you want to tell me?'

‘What's so wrong with being taken care of?'

‘For the sake of maintaining your heritage?'

‘Just answer the question!'

‘I don't need you!' she told him, and herself, fiercely. ‘I don't want to be
taken care of
. I'm more than capable
of taking care of myself and my daughter! We're not
charity cases
!'

‘I never implied that you were!'

‘Then what
is
it you're implying?'

‘I'm willing to give you—'

‘I'm not interested.'

‘Fine.' For a few electric seconds they stared in the darkness at one another, then he turned on his heel and walked away. Vicky followed him with her eyes until he disappeared around the hotel wall, then she too made her way slowly back to her room, not quite understanding why and how everything had gone so badly wrong, but knowing, somewhere, that open warfare was for the best.

W
HY
was it for the best?

She noticed that she'd somehow arrived at the gift shop, which was a grand affair with an alluring display case for every Disney product known to man. Or so it seemed. Instead of beating a hasty retreat, she found herself dawdling in front of the sweatshirts, ambling over to the array of postcards, indulging her train of thought.

Why
, she thought, was open warfare for the best? Who was she protecting? Chloe? Not a bit of it. Chloe had accepted Max Forbes with the open enthusiasm of a child. Vicky was, she admitted, protecting herself, but how long could she go through life making herself pay for what had happened in the past? Where was the use condemning herself to a lonely future because she measured every man against Shaun and instantly backed away?

Max Forbes was nothing like his brother, aside from his physical resemblance, and even then there was something more finely honed about his face. It was as though nature had taken exquisite time with Max and then had done a rush job with his twin brother.

She strolled over to the stationery counter and absent-mindedly registered that Mickey and Minnie were everywhere. On mugs, cups, paper, pencils. Spooky.

So what if he didn't love her? Was that the end of the world? Wasn't it better to have him in her life as a friend, rather than enemy? Because he
was
going to be in her life, one way or another. He wasn't going to just disappear and leave her to get on with things the way she always had.
She'd seen the affection in his eyes when he looked at Chloe, the curiosity of the world-weary man chancing upon something new and magical, the innocence of childhood. When he looked at his niece and saw the striking resemblance to him, he must feel a strong pull on his heart strings. How could he not?

So she could never have her ideal. Well, she wouldn't be the first in the universe, would she? And Chloe would have two parents rather than just her; a family, a sense of belonging.

A plump girl with amazingly white teeth and a broad smile walked across and asked her whether she could help, at which Vicky jumped and hurriedly grabbed a Pluto picture frame from the shelf and a box of writing paper which sported an intricate array of Disney characters leaping around the edges. Chloe would love it, even though letters, at this point in time, were solely addressed to her mother. With Max in her life she would now have two recipients for her three-line letters with their careful handwriting.

She left the gift shop and, instead of heading up to the bedroom to rescue the babysitter from her duties, made her way to the informal coffee shop that overlooked the pool for a cappuccino. As seemed to be the case in Florida, a simple cup of coffee was accompanied by something edible, in this case a vast butter biscuit dusted with powdery sugar. The actual cup of coffee was huge, and she realised that she should have specified a small cup.

The coffee shop was half empty, with a handful of couples sitting at tables in front of large dishes of ice cream. Most were poring over guidebooks, planning the remainder of their holiday with military precision. The décor was bright and jaunty. Not conducive to solitary meditation. But Vicky's mind, having broken its reins, was now unstoppable. It poured over the past and then leapt into the
future and poured over that. There were so many permutations of what could happen that she felt dizzy, but the glaringly obvious thing was that she wanted Max in her life—she wanted his rich humour, his unexpected kindness, his wit, even the glimpses of ruthless cynicism that could have the other secretaries in the office running for cover. She loved every angle, every facet, every small nook and cranny of this man, and the thought of fighting him for evermore would end up destroying her.

She took a few more sips from her mug, managing to reduce the volume by very little, nibbled some more biscuit, like a mouse tentatively working its way around the outside of a piece of cheese, and then she stood up and dusted herself down.

Max would either be in the bar or in his bedroom. Presumably.

He wasn't in the bar. The prospect of going to his bedroom was a little daunting, especially when she wasn't quite sure what she was going to say once she found him, but her moment of brief hesitation was replaced by resolve and five minutes later she was knocking on his door. Her whole body was keyed to his response. She could feel every nerve stretching inside her.

When he pulled open the door, she was shocked by his face. He looked as though he had spent a night on the tiles. His hair was sticking out at odd angles and there was nothing cool and assured about his features. They were drawn, but his glittering silver eyes were as hard and shuttered as she had expected.

‘What do you want?' he asked, standing in front of her, and her heart sank. She was beginning to forget what she wanted, and she realised that she hadn't even worked out what the heck she was going to say.

‘I thought we might have a talk,' she said in a brave
little voice, looking up at him and fighting not to wilt at his expression.

‘About what? Haven't you said it all? I must have been a damn fool to ever think I could batter down your defences. You've shut yourself away in your bitter little castle, and you're not going to let anyone get in, are you? Least of all the brother of the man who you think ruined your life.'

‘He
did
ruin my life!'

‘But that's in the past, isn't it? Or can't you accept that? Maybe you've grown so accustomed to being a victim that you've started to enjoy it. Oh, what the hell… I don't even know why I'm bothering to have this pointless conversation with you. Go to bed.' He half turned, preparing to shut the door.

‘No!' she cried. ‘Don't!'

‘Don't
what
?' His eyes raked mercilessly over her.

‘Don't shut me out. Please! Please?'

‘Give me one good reason why I shouldn't. Isn't that what you've done to me?'

That expression of vulnerability brought a wave of tenderness over her that made her legs tremble. She hadn't thought that she was shutting him out. She'd been protecting herself in the only way she knew how, protecting herself against the possibility of ever being hurt again.

‘Won't you let me in?' she asked quietly, reaching out and placing her hand flat on his chest.

She felt his body tense but she kept her hand there, needing the warmth of his skin through his shirt; then he turned away and rasped, ‘Shut the door behind you.'

He stalked across to the small couch in the corner of the room and, her heart beating wildly, Vicky closed the door and walked across to his bed, and perched on the
edge, crossing her feet at the ankles and loosely entwining her fingers on her lap.

She could hear the steady background hum of the air-conditioning system, which somehow only managed to intensify the silence between them.

He wiped his hands across his eyes and then looked at her, waiting for her to speak. She'd entered his territory and now it was going to be up to her to speak her mind, never mind the degree of receptiveness in the audience.

‘I didn't mean to shut you out,' she began hesitantly. ‘I didn't think I had, anyway. I mean, I came over here at your suggestion and you can't say that I've tried to monopolise Chloe's attention. In fact, I've hardly seen her at all these past few days!' Her automatic position of self-defence cranked into gear, but when she looked at him she discovered that it wasn't working with him.

‘We're not talking about Chloe.'

‘No,' Vicky murmured inaudibly. She drew a deep breath. ‘I suppose…I suppose you're right. I went through a bad time with Shaun and I've let it influence my life. When I saw you…you brought everything back. I…it was like being hit by a roller coaster at full speed…I felt like my past was catching up with me again…and I was scared. Terrified, in fact,' she amended truthfully, reliving what she'd felt when she'd first set eyes on that familiar, yet not familiar face. ‘I thought you were going to be just like Shaun. It didn't take long for me to realise…' Her voice wittered away into silence as she sensed dangerous ground ahead. Her fingers plucked at her skirt.

‘
What?
For you to realise
what
?' There was a watchfulness about him that hadn't been there a few minutes previously and that was almost as alarming as his bitterness.

‘For me to realise…that you weren't anything like
Shaun. Your brother was cruel, sadistic and addicted to getting his own way.' She couldn't sit still any longer and she stood up and walked jerkily towards the window and looked out, not seeing anything.

‘And what was
I
?' he asked with mild curiosity. She could feel him staring at her and her stomach responded by going into knots.

‘Nothing like your brother,' was as far as she would go on that one, and for the moment he seemed to accept her staccato answer. ‘I should have left as soon as I could. I had planned to, but…'

‘But what?'

‘But I…enjoyed the job. I'd spent months doing menial work to pay the bills and, even though I knew it was dangerous working for you in case you ever found out the truth about me, it was tempting to carry on doing it for a little bit longer, enjoying the challenge of a job where I had to actually think. Never mind the money, which was very useful. I was finally in a position where I could afford to spend a bit on Chloe and on the house. I was putting money aside. I told myself that soon I'd leave…and then…'

‘Your past jumped up to bite you on the hand when you were least expecting it. Another shock to your system, no doubt.' His voice was laced with jeering cynicism and for a brief second her eyes flashed angrily at him. He was deliberately making this hard for her, but what could she do about that?

‘Yes,' she answered meekly, and he shot her a darkly challenging look before glancing away.

‘So tell me why you've come,' he said, mildly curious now, not giving an inch. ‘To prove right the old adage that confession is good for the soul? Nothing further to add to the litany of past regrets?'

‘To tell you that I've been a fool,' she said with a shuddering sigh, and this time there was something different when he looked at her, although his voice was casual when he spoke.

‘Oh, yes? And why would that be?'

‘Because…' Her voice faltered now that she had hit the thin ice patch and risked falling in. What would he do if she confessed that she was in love with him? Would he laugh? Look embarrassed? Launch into an immediate retraction of his offer of marriage with the threat of real emotion entering into the equation, messing up his tidy little convenient proposition? None of these possible scenarios did anything for her self-confidence.

‘Because…what?'

‘I've thought about what you offered…' she began again, veering away from one patch of thin ice towards another. ‘You know…your proposal…'

‘What makes you think that that still stands?' he asked indifferently, though his eyes were still narrowed and watchful on her.

‘I'm sorry…I thought…'

‘But let's just say,
hypothetically
, that I was still prepared to enter into an arrangement with you.'

‘Well, talking hypothetically,' Vicky volunteered nervously, ‘I've realised that I would be prepared to go through with such an arrangement. I've looked at the way you are with Chloe…unless it was all one big act…'

‘I don't pretend things I don't feel,' he responded grimly, and she wanted to scream at him,
Well, what do you feel about me? Aside from the occasional burst of lust? Anything at all?

‘In that case, I think it might be a good idea. I know it's not an ideal situation…' She smiled wistfully, imag
ining what the ideal situation would be. ‘But it could work…'

‘And I've been thinking as well.' His voice was serious, and she knew what he was going to say even before the words were out. It was like having a bucket of freezing water poured over her. ‘I can't marry you, Vicky.'

‘No. Well. Fair enough.' A great well of despair washed over her. ‘I…that's fine… It was stupid of me to have resurrected that old proposal anyway. When we get back to London we can work something out…I know Chloe would be heartbroken if she didn't see you again…' Her feet, which were desperate to get her to the door, seemed to have been nailed to the floorboards. Amazing. She almost groaned with the frustration of it.

‘Don't you want to know
why
I've changed my mind?'

‘No…really…it's enough that you have…' She heard the misery in her voice and cringed.

‘I've been doing some thinking of my own,' he said quietly, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. He swept his fingers through his hair, but continued to stare at the ground until she eventually sidled a bit closer to him—because, if she didn't, she wasn't sure she would be able to catch a word he was saying. Not that he'd begun to say anything at all.

She felt a little braver now that he wasn't staring at her and reducing her thought processes to pulp. ‘There's no need to explain anything to me. I mean it.'

‘There is.' He favoured her with a brief glance, then he resumed his peculiar inspection of the carpet, as though he was looking for something he had misplaced there. His vocabulary, from the looks of it, she thought, which appeared to have deserted him completely.

The seconds dragged into one minute, two minutes, five minutes, until she said edgily, ‘Well, explain away, then.'

Her remark was greeted with another quick look, too quick for her to read the expression in his grey eyes.

‘If you've been watching my interaction with your daughter, then I've been watching yours, looking at the way you two reach out automatically for one another, the way Chloe looks across to you every so often for support…and you were right. Marriage and family is about more than arrangements and practicalities. It's more than a business proposition, two people adding up the pros and cons for living under the same roof, sharing the same house and then trying to work out whether it'll be worth the effort.'