Harlequin Presents January 2015 - Box Set 1 of 2: Sheikh's Desert Duty\Nine Months to Redeem Him\Fonseca's Fury\The Russian's Ultimatum (33 page)

He took a single staggering step back from me. Then, with a deep breath, he held himself still. As if he were trying to hold himself back from—from what?

Clenching his hands at his sides, Edward came and sat beside me, on the other end of the bench, careful not to touch me.

“I'm sorry,” he said quietly. “I never wanted you to learn that from me.”

“You helped me out. Made me grow up.”

“Let me tell you something else now.” Sunlight brushed his dark blue eyes, and I saw the depths, like a brilliant sparkling light illuminating the deepest, darkest ocean. “I never should have let you go.”

My lips parted. I stared up at him in shock.

He gave me a sudden crooked smile. “From the moment you left, I knew I'd made the greatest mistake of my life. In fact,” he said in a low voice, “it was no life at all.” He leaned forward. “I came to California to try to win you back.”

I stared at him, stricken.

I could hardly believe Edward was sitting in my mother's garden in Beverly Hills. Sitting beside me on the marble bench Howard had given her one year for Mother's Day.

“You want me back?” I breathed.

He nodded. “More than anything.”

We all create our own garden,
Mom used to say. Gardening was a lot like life, in her opinion. Sure, plants depended on sun and soil, but the most important thing was the gardener. What choices did she make? Did she hack off roses with a dull blade? Did she overwater the ivy? Did she let wisteria grow wild, until it overran the walls, blocking all light in an insurmountable thicket of twisted vine? The garden you had showed the choices you'd made. What you'd done with the hand nature dealt you.

Now, Edward was offering me a choice I never imagined I'd have. He wanted me back?

I thought of the months of anguish I'd endured after London. He'd nearly destroyed me. I couldn't live through another broken heart. I couldn't.

My shoulders tightened. No. I lifted my chin. I'd finally stopped loving him. It was going to stay that way.

“We all make choices we have to live with,” I said quietly. My eyes glittered as I looked at him. “I've moved on. So should you.”

“Have you?” He straightened on the bench. And his jaw tightened. “You seem to forget one thing. I'm the baby's father. I have rights.”

I stiffened. He was threatening me now?

“So it's like that, is it?”

He took a deep breath. “I don't want to fight you, Diana. It's the last thing I want. I came here to tell you I was wrong.”

“Funny.” Turning away, I gave a hard laugh. “Because I've decided you were right, ending our affair like you did. A long-term relationship just brings pain. Friends with benefits—that's the only way to go.”

“Is that what you have with Jason?” he said roughly.

I shrugged. “More or less.”

“Well, which is it? More—or less?”

“More friendship, less benefits.”

“How much less?”

Gritting my teeth, I grudgingly admitted, “None.”

He relaxed slightly. He leaned forward. “Diana, don't you want our child to have what you had—two parents? A real home?”

“Sure.” I shrugged. “In a perfect world...”

“She can have it. All you have to do is say yes.”

I lifted my chin. “What are you asking me, exactly?”

“I'm asking you, you little fool,” his eyes glittered, “to marry me.”

I was dreaming. I sat in shock beside him on the cool marble bench. Above the palm trees, I heard the birds singing as they crossed the blue sky. A soft summer wind blew through the flowers, causing the scent of roses to waft over me like an embrace. The only sound was the bluebirds, and a hummingbird and the lazy buzzing of the bees in the dappled sunlight.

“What did you say?” I whispered.

Edward stared down at me, his dark eyes intense. “I want to marry you.”

I drew back.

“I don't understand.” I put a hand to my head, feeling dizzy. “Everything you said in London—you swore you'd never want a wife or child—”

“It's all changed.”

“Why?”

“You're pregnant with my child.” He looked at me. “And I want you, Diana. I've never stopped wanting you. From the moment you left, I've hungered only for you.”

I gave an awkward laugh. “You've had other lovers....”

“No.”

My jaw dropped. “It's been four months!”

“I only want you,” he said simply.

My heart was pounding. I tried desperately to bring it under control. “You didn't come to California because you wanted me.” I lifted my chin. “You only came when you found out I was pregnant.”

He clawed back his hair. “I was waiting for you to call me. I thought you would.”

I looked at him in disbelief. “You thought I would call you—after what you said to me?”

“Women always try to win me back.” A rueful smile curved his lips. “But not you.”

I took a deep breath, remembering what it had cost me. I'd felt so alone and heartsick when I'd returned to California. For weeks, I'd cried myself to sleep—then was tormented in dreams, as hot memories of our nights together forced themselves upon me when I was sleeping and helpless to fight them.

“Your pregnancy just gave me the reason to come find you. It forced me to do what I'd been afraid to do. To ask you,” he said, lifting his gaze to mine, “to come back to me.”

Against my will, a shiver rose from deep inside me. A shiver deeper than fury and stronger than pride.

I stubbornly shook my head.

“I want you,” Edward said, his handsome face intent on mine, making me tremble with sensual memories. His gaze fell to my lips. “I need you, Diana.”

“Just missing sex...” My voice came out a croak. I cleared my throat. “That isn't a good enough reason to marry someone.”

“I don't want to marry you for sex.” He sat up straight on the park bench, and I was reminded of how powerful his body was, how much larger than mine. “I want us to be wed. So our child can have a childhood like yours. Not a childhood like mine.”

I swallowed, remembering his loneliness then, how his mother had abandoned him when he was ten, and his father had ignored him, except when he could be used as a weapon against his ex-wife. Even the beloved gardener who'd taught him to fish had abruptly left. Boarding school at twelve. A horrible cousin. An empty castle. With only a paid housekeeper to care. That was Edward's childhood.

“You don't need to worry.” I briefly touched his shoulder. “Our baby will always be safe and loved.” I cradled my hands over my belly. “I promise you.”

“I know.” His eyes met mine. “Because I'll be there.”

I glared at him. “Edward—”

Reaching out, he deliberately put his larger hand over mine, gently on the swell of my belly. I gasped when I felt him touch my hand for the first time, felt the weight of it resting protectively over the child we'd created. “I'm not going to let her go.” He looked at my belly with a trace of a smile on his lips. Then he looked up at me. “Or you.”

My mouth went dry.

“But I don't love you,” I choked out, as if those magic words were a talisman that could make him disappear. “I'll never love you again.”

The words seemed suspended in the air between us. Then he smiled. Moving closer to me, he cupped my cheek.

“Friends with benefits, then.”

“And marriage?”

“And definitely that.”

“I won't let you do this,” I said, trembling beneath his touch. His fingertips stroked softly down my cheek, tracing my full lower lip. My breasts, now lush and full with pregnancy, felt heavy, my nipples hard and aching. I breathed, “You can't just come back, after the way you broke my heart, and force yourself into my life!”

“You mean I have to earn it.”

“Well—yes—what are you smiling about?”

“Nothing.” He lifted his chin. “I'm not afraid. I know exactly what to do.”

“You do?”

“Yes.” He slid down the bench until he was right against me. I felt him close to me, so close, and I shivered with heat in the cool shade of the garden. “I'll do whatever it takes to earn back what I've lost.”

“You can't.” I swallowed. “Yes, you're my baby's father. There's nothing I can do about that. But that's all. I'll never open my heart—or my body—to you again. I won't be your friend. I won't sleep with you. And I definitely won't marry you.”

He pulled me into his arms. “We'll see....”

My heart beat fast as he held me against the warmth of his body. I heard the intake of his breath, and realized he was trembling, too. That was my last thought before he turned me to face him. And he lowered his mouth to mine.

He kissed me hungrily, and when his lips touched mine, in spite of my cold anger, I could not fight it. When he kissed me, the colors of the garden whirled around us, pink bougainvillea and green leaves and palm leaves glowing with sun, flying wild into the sky. And against my will, I kissed him back.

Just a kiss. One last kiss of farewell, I told myself. Before I sent him away forever.

CHAPTER SEVEN

T
HE
COOL
OCEAN
BREEZE
came in through open sliding glass doors on the other side of the cottage, oscillating white translucent curtains as I peeked inside the front door.

“Edward?” I called hesitantly, stepping inside the tiny house he had rented on Malibu Beach. “Are you in here?”

No answer. It took several seconds for my eyes to adjust to the light. The old grandfather clock on the other side of the floral sofa said nine o'clock. The tiny galley kitchen was empty and dark.

Edward had asked me so particularly to come over tonight, as soon as I was done filming a commercial on the other side of town. Where was he? Surely he couldn't have forgotten?

For the past month, since he'd arrived in California, he'd gone out of his way to take care of me, putting me first in anything. The only thing he'd flatly refused was to stay away from me.

“Give me a chance to change your mind about me,” he said.

I'd told myself it didn't matter. He could pursue me as much as he wanted. I wasn't going to marry him. And after that first amazing kiss in the garden, I stuck to my vow and never let him kiss me again. I think I was afraid what would happen if I did.

The time we'd spent together over the past month had been almost like Cornwall again—only far sunnier, of course, with summery blue skies and bright blue Pacific. And no sex. That was a big change. But that didn't stop Edward from spending every moment with me, taking me out for dinner, giving me foot rubs, helping me shop for baby gear. I continued to sleep in my childhood bedroom at my stepfather's house. One night, when I'd moaned about my cravings for watermelon and caramel pretzel ice cream, he'd showed up at the house with groceries. He'd had to throw a pebble against my window. Because it was three in the morning.

No man was this good. No man could work this hard for long. I couldn't let myself fall for it, because there was no way it would last.

He'd made it clear what he wanted. Marriage. A shared home for our daughter. And me. In his bed.

But it wouldn't last. Soon, his emotional breakdown—or whatever it was—would clear up, and he'd rush back to his selfish playboy workaholic life. As long as I never forgot that, or let down my guard, I told myself I'd be fine. But still...

“When are you going back to London?” I'd demanded yesterday. “How is St. Cyr Global managing without their CEO?”

Edward gave me a crooked grin. “They'll just have to cope.”

He'd started accompanying me to OB-GYN visits. When he saw the first ultrasound images of our daughter, and heard her heartbeat, his eyes glistened suspiciously.

“Were those tears?” I asked as we left.

“Don't be ridiculous,” he said gruffly, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “Dust in my eyes.” And to change the subject he offered to take me to dinner at a famous restaurant which cost around four hundred dollars a plate.

I shook my head. “Nah. I want a burger, fries, frozen yogurt. How about a beachside café?”

He smiled at me. “Sure.”

“You don't mind?” I asked later, as we sat on a casual wooden patio in Malibu, overlooking parked expensive motorcycles, the Pacific Coast Highway and the wide ocean beyond.

“Nope.” Edward shook his head, smiling as he helped himself to one of my fries. “If you're happy, I'm happy.”

For the past month, his only apparent job in California had been to take care of me. He treated me as if I were not only the mother of his child, and object of all his desire, but was in fact Queen of the World.

It was pretty hard to resist. In spite of my best efforts, he was slowly wearing me down. I found myself spending every minute with him that I wasn't working.

It irritated Jason to no end. “You never have time for me anymore,” he grumbled when we ran into each other last week on a studio lot. “You're falling for him again.”

“I'm not,” I protested.

But now, I felt so oddly bereft as I walked through Edward's dark, empty beach cottage, I wasn't so sure.

Could he have suddenly decided he was bored with me and the baby, and flown off to London in his private jet, forgetting that he'd begged me to come over tonight?

Remembering the glow in his eyes as we'd had breakfast that morning, waffles and strawberries at an old diner near the set where I'd filmed a commercial today, I couldn't quite believe it. A low curse lifted to my lips.

Jason was right.

I was starting to trust Edward again.

Starting to let myself care.

Setting my jaw, I walked across the cottage and pushed past the white translucent curtains to the pool area in the back, with its view of the beach. “Edward?”

No answer. For a moment, I closed my eyes, relishing the cool ocean breeze against my overheated skin. It was August now, and the weather was hot, and at my advanced stage of pregnancy, so was I. As I turned back to go inside, my belly jutted so far ahead of me it seemed to be in its own time zone. Sliding the screen door closed behind me, I crossed the living room, my flip-flops thwacking softly against the hardwood floor.

I should have been here hours ago. But the shoot had gone over, and then I'd gotten a call from my agent on the way here. He'd had news so momentous I'd had to pull over my car.

“This is your big break, Diana,” my agent had almost shouted. “You just got offered the girlfriend role in the biggest summer blockbuster. It'll make your career. Another actress fell through at the last minute, and she suggested you...”

“Who suggested me?” I'd said, confused.

“Someone with good taste, that's who. Movie will start shooting a few weeks after your due date,” he said, cackling with glee. “How's that for perfect timing? You'll have three whole weeks to lose the baby weight before you need to report to Romania...that won't be a problem, will it, kiddo?”

Lose thirty pounds in three weeks? “Um...” Then I was distracted by the other thing he'd said. “Romania?”

“For three months. Romania is lovely in the fall.”

I was dumbfounded. “But I'll have a newborn.”

“So? Bring the baby with you. You'll have a nice trailer. Get a nanny.” When I didn't answer, he said hastily, “Or leave the kid here with its dad. Whatever you want. But you can't turn this role down, Diana. Don't you get it? It's a starring role. Your name will be above the title. This is your big chance.”

“Yeah,” I'd said, wondering why I didn't feel more thrilled. Of course I would say yes. I had no choice. Wasn't this what I'd wanted, what I'd dreamed of and strived for? This kind of luck didn't happen every day. But as I imagined losing thirty pounds in three weeks then taking my newborn off to live in a Romanian trailer, all I felt was exhausted. “I...have to think about it.”

“Are you kidding?” He'd been stunned. “If you'd turn this down, I'm not sure how much I can help you in the future,” he'd said warningly. “I need to feel like we're on the same team.”

“I understand.”

“I'll call you for your answer first thing tomorrow. Make it the right one.”

I didn't know what to do. I was tempted to talk it over with Edward, but I had the feeling he'd just tell me he supported whatever I wanted to do. Heck, for all I knew, he'd come to Romania with me. So much had changed.

So where was Edward now? I was two hours late. Had he given up waiting for me and left, to walk off his irritation with a stroll on the beach? Malibu was a beautiful place. I should know. I was the one who'd talked him into renting this place.

The very first day he'd come to Beverly Hills, he'd recklessly told me he planned to buy a nearby house, on sale for twenty million dollars. “I want to be close to you.” Privately, I'd thought he was out of his mind; even more privately, I thought if he lived forty minutes away, it would be a case of
out of sight, out of mind
and he'd stop pursuing me. So I'd convinced him he should instead rent a beach house getaway.

“You have to help me pick out the house,” Edward had agreed. Backed into a corner, I'd consented. The estate agent had taken us to ritzy McMansions all over town, but I hadn't loved any of the newly built palaces, all of them the same with their seven bedrooms and ten bathrooms, with their tennis courts and home theaters and wine cellars. When Edward saw I wasn't interested in them, he wasn't either. Finally, in an act of pure desperation, the estate agent had brought us here.

Built in the 1940s on Malibu Beach, this cottage was squat and ugly compared to the three-story glass mansions around it. When Edward saw it, he almost told her to drive on.

“Wait,” I'd said, putting my hand on his arm. Something about the tiny, rickety house had reminded me of my family home in Pasadena, where I'd lived when I was a very young child, before my father had died.

When he saw my face, Edward was suddenly willing to overlook the house's flaws. Good thing, because there were so many. No air conditioning. The kitchen was ridiculously tiny and last remodeled in 1972. The wooden floorboards creaked, the dust was thick and the furniture was covered with white sheets. When I pulled the sheet off the baby grand piano, a dust cloud kicked up and made us all cough, even the estate agent.

“I shouldn't have brought you here,” she said apologetically.

“No,” I'd whispered. “I love it.”

“We'll take it,” Edward said.

But where was he now? I went heavily up the creaking stairs to the second floor. I'd been up here only once before, when we'd toured the house with the estate agent. It was just a small attic bedroom with slanted ceilings, and a tiny balcony overlooking the ocean.

As I reached the top of the stairs, the bedroom was in shadow. I saw only the brilliant slash of orange and persimmon to the west as the red ball of the sun fell like fire into the sea.

Then I saw Edward, sitting on the bed.

And then...

I sucked in my breath.

Hundreds of rose petals in a multitude of colors had been scattered across the bed and floor, illuminated by tapered white candles on the nightstands and handmade shelves. When Edward saw me standing in the doorway, in my sundress and casual ponytail, he rose from the bed. His chest and feet were bare. He wore only snug jeans that showed off his tanned skin, and the shape of his well-muscled legs. Stepping toward me, he smiled.

“I've been waiting for you.”

“I can see that,” I whispered, knowing I was in trouble. Knowing I should
run.

He lifted a long-stemmed red rose from a nearby vase. Leaning forward, he stroked the softest part of the rose against my cheek. “I know your secret.”

I blinked. “My...my secret?”

Leaning back, he gave me a lazily sensual smile. “How you tried to resist me. And failed.”

“I haven't. I haven't agreed to marriage or fallen into bed with you. Not yet,” I choked out. Then blushed when I realized the insinuation was that I soon would.

His smile lifted to a grin. He nodded toward a pile of books in a box in a corner of the room. “I just got that box this afternoon from Mrs. MacWhirter. It seems you left something, buried in your bedroom closet at Penryth Hall.

I looked down at the open box. Sitting on top was the faded dust jacket of the fine manual written by Mrs. Warreldy-Gribbley,
Private Nursing: How to Care for a Patient in His Home Whilst Maintaining Professional Distance and Avoiding Immoral Advances from Your Employer.

“Oh,” I said lamely, looking back at Edward with my cheeks on fire.

He gave a low laugh. “Didn't do you much good, did it?”

Biting my lip, I shook my head.

Tilting his head, he looked at me wickedly. “What do you think Mrs. Warreldy-Gribbley would say if she saw you now?”

I looked down at my hugely pregnant belly, which strained the knit fabric of my sundress. “I'm not sure she'd have the words.”

“I think...” He ran his fingertips lightly over my bare shoulder, turning me to face him. “She'd tell you to marry me.”

A tremble went through my body. My bare shoulder pulsed heat from the place when he touched me.

Scowling, I glared at him. “Do you always get your own way?”

Lifting his hand, he cupped my cheek.

“Ask me tomorrow,” he said softly.

And Edward fell to one knee before me.

I stared down at him, my mouth wide with shock. “What are you doing?”

“What I should have done long ago.” He looked up at me in the small, shadowy attic bedroom. “You know I want to marry you, Diana. I'm asking you one last time. With everything I've got,” he said quietly. “All I want is to make you happy.” He drew a black velvet box from his jeans pocket and held it up in the flickering candlelight. “Will you give me the chance?”

Looking down at him, I couldn't move or breathe. I suddenly knew that whatever happiness or misery came to me—and my daughter—would all stem from the choice I made in this moment.

“Diana...” Edward opened the black velvet box. “Will you marry me?”

I saw the enormous diamond ring and covered my mouth with my hands. I blinked hard, unable to believe my eyes. “Is that thing real?” I breathed. “It's the size of an iceberg—”

“You deserve the best,” he said quietly.

I'd spent years in Hollywood. So I'd seen big diamonds before. Madison had worn lots of big diamonds to awards shows—gorgeous borrowed jewels to go with her gorgeous borrowed gowns. But even in Hollywood, the million-dollar jewelry was an illusion. When the event was over, the jewelry had to be returned. Faster than you can say
glass slipper.

But this wasn't borrowed. This was meant to last.

Edward meant this to last.

“Don't do this to me,” I whispered, stricken. “We don't need to get married. We can live apart, but still raise her together....”