The Billionaire's Bedside Manner (13 page)

As she rose, her father stopped talking and looked up at her with eyes that, for a moment, were unguarded.

“Are you pouring more coffee?” he asked.

“Actually, Dad, we have to go.”

Her father got to his feet. “You only just arrived.”

“We can stay awhile longer,” Mateo said, standing too.

But she pinned Mateo with a firm look that said he was wrong.

“Mateo,” she said, “it's time to go.”

While her father muttered that he didn't know what the rush was all about, Mateo's furrowed gaze questioned hers.

She peered up at the ceiling and almost groaned. She appreciated Mateo coming—appreciated everything he'd done—but this was her business.
Her
life. She'd gone through this game with her father too many times already.

Bailey walked away and the men's footfalls followed. At the door, she leaned toward her father and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. When she drew back, her father's gaze was lowered on her wrist. On the bracelet.

“I see you haven't lost it yet,” he said.

Her gaze went from the bracelet to her father's cheated look and a suffocating surge of hurt, and guilt, bubbled up inside her.

He just couldn't let her leave without mentioning that.

On the edge, she flicked open the bracelet's new clasp. “Know what, Dad?” Slipping the chain and its jingling charms from her wrist, she handed it over. “I want you to have this.”

His brow furrowed. “But I gave it to
you.
”

“Not the way I needed. The way she would've wanted you to.”

“Don't start on—”

“Mum didn't ask to die,” she plowed on. “She didn't want to leave us. I don't need this to know she loved me. It's sad but,” she slapped the bracelet in his palm, “I think you need this more than me.”

She headed down the path.

Mateo remote-unlocked his car a second before she reached for the passenger side handle. Churning inside, she kept her burning, disappointed gaze dead ahead while Mateo slid into the driver's side. He belted up, ignited the engine, shifted the gear into drive. Trying to even her breathing, she felt his gaze slide over.

“Your father's waiting on the doorstep,” he told her. “Don't you think you ought to at least wave?”

Her stomach kicked and she screwed her eyes shut. “Don't try to make me feel guiltier than I already do.”

Not about her father's behavior but because she
had
almost
lost that bracelet, and she would never have forgiven herself if she had.

Mateo wrung the steering wheel with both hands. “He was a little out of line. But, Bailey, he's your father. We were there ten minutes. Do you really want to walk away, cut him off, again?”

Eyes burning, she continued to stare ahead. Mateo might want the chance to sit down and speak with his biological father, but she knew now hers would never listen. Would never understand. He wasn't the only one who'd felt lost when Ann Ross had died.

And while they were on the subject—if she was running away, hadn't Mateo in a sense run away too, from that little boy who would love to be his son?

But she wouldn't mention that. If she did, they'd have an argument and the way she was feeling—the way she'd thatched her fingers to stop her hands from shaking—she wouldn't be the one to back down.

While she glared out the windshield, Mateo sucked in an audible breath and wrenched the car away from the curb. They drove in silence home. When she got out of the car, she tried to make her way through the house and up that staircase before any tears could fall, but Mateo had other plans. Catching up, he grabbed her arm from behind. Tamping down hot emotion, she lifted her chin and turned around.

The chiseled plains of his face were set. “We need to talk.”

“Not now.”

She tried to wind away but he held her firm. “Don't let this get to you.”

“I'd have thought you'd approve of me walking away.”

Mateo had once said he was selfish. He was wrong. He was a hypocrite. Mateo might have had a good relationship with Ernesto, but there was a little boy back in France who
had silently begged for years for the monsieur to accept him. Not so different from the way she wanted to be accepted by her father.

She shook her arm free and started up the stairs. It was better they didn't discuss it.

Mateo's steps sounded behind her. “I'm not the one you're angry with.”

Her throat aching, she ground out, “Please. Mateo.”
Please.
She continued up the stairs. “Leave me alone.”

When an arm lassoed her waist and pitched her around, she let out a gasp as she fell. But before her back met the uneven ramp of the stairs, that arm was there again, scooped under and supporting her as Mateo hovered over her, daring her to try to walk away from him again.

But he didn't speak, and the longer he stayed leaning over her as she lay on the steps, his eyes searching hers, the more her tide of anger ebbed and gradually seeped away. But the hurt remained…for herself as well as for Remy. She doubted that would ever leave.

Her words came out a hoarse whisper.

“Why does he do that?”

Mateo exhaled and stroked her hair. “I don't know.”

“I won't ever go back.”

“You don't have to…if that's what you want.”

Frustration sparked again. “I know what I want, Mateo.”

His lips brushed her brow. “I know what
I
want.”

She shifted onto her elbows. “Do you?”

He hesitated a heartbeat before his mouth slanted over and took hers.

His kiss was tender and at the same time passionate. Dissolving into the emotion, needing to completely melt away and forget, she reached for his chest and struggled with his shirt buttons. As the kiss deepened, he shifted too, rolling
back each shoulder in turn as she peeled the sleeves off his powerful arms.

When his mouth finally left hers, her blood felt on fire. She didn't want to think about anything but this. Not her father or France or her bracelet. Only how Mateo made her feel time and again. She couldn't deny it any longer. As much as she'd set out to keep her head and her heart, she'd fallen in love with Mateo, an emotion that consumed her more and more each day.

His eyes closed, one arm curled around her head, he murmured against her parted lips. “Perhaps we ought to take this upstairs.”

She sighed against his cheek. “If you want.”

His brow pinched. Before he kissed her again, he said, “I want you.”

F
inished tapping in the final answer on the last form, Bailey held her breath and hit send. If everything went according to plan, in a couple of months she'd be busy studying, sending off her first assignments, on her way to getting that degree.

Sitting back in Mateo's home office chair, she had to grin over the majors she'd chosen. What were the odds? Then again, what were the odds she'd come to feel this way, this
deeply,
about Mateo?

A week had passed since their surprise visit to her father's house…since Mateo had defended her, challenged her, then pinned her on the stairs where they'd made love in a frenzied, soul stirring way they never had before. Her skin flashed hot to even think of the avalanche of emotions he'd brought out in her that day.

Mateo cared about her. He enjoyed her company. But even more, Mateo Celeca
believed
in her. Yes, for her sake he hoped she and her father could somehow, someday, make
amends, but he respected her enough not to push. The same way she wouldn't push about Remy, no matter how strongly she felt those two should be together.

More and more she was coming to believe she and Mateo should stay together too. More than common sense said he could have his choice of companions, and yet he chose to be with her. Had asked her to stay. She couldn't help but wonder….

Exhaling, Bailey pushed that thought aside and, before signing off the computer, decided to check emails. A message from her friend Vicky Jackson popped up in reply to the email Bailey had sent when she'd discovered that first day back that her friend was out of town. Vicky was dying to hear all the news. Had she seen her dad yet? Had she met anyone wonderful? As always, Vicky wanted the gossip, just like the old days, bolts and all.

Bailey glanced around Mateo's red leather and rosewood office. So many amazing collectors' items. Even the ornate silver letter opener looked as if it belonged in a museum. Would her friend since school believe what had happened over the last few months? From backpacking around Europe, to settling down in Casa Buona, to being cornered into an engagement that had sent her on a desperate flight home to Australia. Best of all she'd gone and lost her heart. A huge romantic, when Vicky found out, she would go berserk!

Fingers on keys, she jumped right in.

 

Vicky! You wouldn't believe how I've lucked out. So much has happened since we saw each other last. But the main thing is that I found *the* guy. A keeper!

I'm sitting here now in his home study. Make that mansion! I'm actually cleaning houses atm. Long story.
But that's only temporary. I have *so* many plans—BIG plans—and Doctor Mateo Celeca is at the center of them all—

 

Bailey stopped, pricked her ears and listened. Mateo's car was cruising up the drive.

She tapped out a super quick “Talk soon,” hit send, then jumped up. Mateo had said she could use this laptop anytime. She didn't feel guilty about taking him at his word. In fact, she'd come to feel wonderfully at home here. But, with him being gone for four hours, she was excited to have him back. Whenever she thought of him striding toward her, that dazzling smile reaching out and warming her all over, her knees went weak. She needed his kiss. More and more she wanted so much to let him know how deeply she felt.

What would he say if she did?

 

Mateo entered the house aware of the weight in his shirt pocket and the broad grin on his face.

Not so long ago he'd had no intention of getting overly involved with a woman. And yet, with Bailey, he was involved up to his chin. He'd spent his whole life avoiding the ghosts and hurdles of his past. He'd only needed his friends and the possessions he surrounded himself with. To open his heart—to consider marriage and children of his own—would mean to invite in vulnerability. Take on risk.

But late last night in the shadows, after he and Bailey had made love and he'd felt so at peace, he'd questioned himself. Searched his soul.

Did he
love
Bailey Ross?

Moving down the central hall now, Mateo rolled the question over in his mind but still the answer eluded him. He did know, however, that he had never felt this attracted to a woman before. He enjoyed, without reservation, Bailey's
conversations and smiles. He looked forward to seeing her, kissing her, letting her know how much he valued her. And they were certainly beyond compatible in the bedroom.

In Paris he'd made a decision. To offer her commitment—a home, his affection—without unnecessary encumbrances. This morning he'd come to a different conclusion.

He may not be certain that he loved Bailey but he was wise enough to know he would never find this connection with anyone else. Today he intended to utter words that previously had not existed in his personal vocabulary. As soon as he found her, wherever she was hiding, he intended to ask her to be his bride.

He entered the kitchen, swung a glance around. Empty. Out in “their” garden, no sign of her among the statues either. A hand cupped around his mouth, he called out, “Bailey. I'm back.”

He waited but the house was quiet. Then he had a thought. Before he'd left this morning, she'd asked if she could use his computer. A bounce in his step, he headed for the office.

A few seconds later he discovered that room empty too. But from the doorway he saw the internet browser on his laptop had been left open. The world was full of hackers, scammers, looking for a window to wiggle into and defraud. A person couldn't be too careful. Needing to log off, he crossed over and saw a message hadn't been closed. He moved the curser to save the draft at the same time a few words caught his eye.

BIG plans… A keeper…

His gaze slid to the top of the screen. He skimmed the entire message, lowered into his chair and read it again. After a fourth time, Mateo's hand bunched into a tight ball on the desk. There had to be a different way to interpret it. A different light from the murky one he'd latched on to. But,
for the life of him, he couldn't grasp any other implication from this message than the one hitting him square between the eyes.

 

You wouldn't believe how I've lucked out. I found…a keeper!

Actually cleaning houses…that's only temporary… BIG plans—and Doctor Mateo Celeca is at the center of them all—

 

His gut kicked then twisted into a dozen sickening knots while his hand drifted to his shirt pocket. His fingers curled over the velvet pouch inside and tightened. Was her meaning as obvious as it seemed? Had he been wrong about Bailey? Emilio then Mama…Had she wormed her way into his feelings to manipulate him too?

Had he played the fool
again?

“Mateo!” Bailey's call came from down the hall. “Where are you?”

He snapped back to the here and now and dabbed his clammy brow with his forearm. He had to think.

“Mateo?”

The call sounded close. He looked over and saw Bailey standing at the office door, looking slightly flushed, a brilliant smile painted across her face. She rushed forward and wasted no time plopping onto his lap and snatching a quick kiss.

“Guess what I did today?” She asked, beaming.

Although his mind was steaming, he kept his tone level. “Why don't you tell me?”

“I enrolled.”

He forced a smile. “You did?”

“After looking into all the faculties' courses and searching
myself about what I really wanted to accomplish, you won't believe what I've decided to be.”

Out the corner of his eye, that email seemed to taunt him. “What did you decide?”

“I want to study law. Not criminal, like Dad, but human rights. I want to do my best helping those who don't have the education or means or, in some cases, the status to help themselves.”

“That sounds…worthy.”

Absently watching the motion, she curled some hair behind his ear. Where normally he would lean in against her touch, this minute it was all he could do not to wince. She had big plans.

Who was this woman?

Did he know her at all?

“Bridging courses are the first step,” she went on, “a chance to catch up on high school stuff before tackling the full on units.” She let out a happy sigh. “I'm so excited.” Nuzzling down into his neck, she murmured against his jaw. “I missed you today. Where have you been?”

Mateo thought of the item in his pocket, and the rock that filled the space where his heart used to beat grew harder still. He shut his eyes and groaned. God, he wished he'd never seen that note.

Her cuddling stopped. Her lashes fluttered against his neck an instant before she drew away and searched his eyes, head slanting as she reached to cup his cheek.

“Is something wrong?”

His gaze penetrated hers as his jaw clenched more. He should ask her point blank, lay it on the table, and this time he wouldn't be hoodwinked. How could he be when the truth was there on that screen in black and white?

“You left your inbox open,” he ground out.

She bit her lip. “Sorry. I rushed off when I heard your car.”

“You sent a message to a friend.”

She blinked. “That's right.”

“It didn't go through.”

Her brow furrowed and her gaze shot to the screen before it slid back to him. He could sense her mind ticking over. “Did you read it?”

When he moved, she shifted and he got to his feet.

“Mateo…”

He headed for the door. His throat wouldn't stop convulsing. He needed fresh air. Needed to get out of here and be alone for a while. But she stayed on his heels.

“Mateo, tell me what's wrong.”

He peered down toward the foyer, to his elaborate staircase that, as large and grand as it was, didn't really lead anywhere…except to more furniture and art and antiques. He'd accumulated so much. Right now he felt as if he'd been stripped of everything.

When she touched his arm, his stomach jumped. He tried to find his calm center as he edged around. Her beautiful pale blue eyes were clouded with uncertainty, the indigo band around each iris darker than he'd ever seen. Blood pounded and crashed in his ears. She'd been caught and she knew it.

The words—his accusation—were on the tip of his tongue when the doorbell sounded. He thought of ignoring it, but he couldn't get what he needed to off his chest with some unknown person lurking on his doorstep. Leaving a desolate Bailey, he strode over, opened the door and was caught between a groan and smile.

Alex Ramirez stood with his hands in his pockets. Natalie, looking as beautiful as ever, was at her husband's side. Reece sat perched on her hip.

“We were on our way to a picnic,” Alex said, sliding his
shades back on his head. “We thought you guys might want to join us.”

“It's such a gorgeous day,” Natalie added breezily, but a certain shadow in her eyes let him know something was amiss. Perhaps she was just overly tired.

“A picnic?” Bailey came forward. “I'd love to get out,” she said as she looked across, “but Mateo might have something planned.”

Mateo stepped aside. “Come in out of the heat.”

“We have plenty of food and drink.” Natalie entered the foyer while Reece kicked his legs as if he was riding a horse. “There's chicken and homemade potato salad. And plenty of room in the car. When you start a family you need to trade sports cars for roomier, safer options.”

Mateo didn't miss the emphasis Natalie placed on
safer
or the way Alex's lips pressed together as he looked down and crossed his arms.

Mateo folded his arms too as he shared a look between them. “Is something wrong?”

Alex said, “No,” at the same time Natalie said, “Actually, we wanted to speak with you—”

Alex groaned out a cautionary,
“Nat.”

“—about France,” she finished.

And something else. Something important enough for them to show up unannounced. Not that he minded friends dropping in, but beneath the cheery exterior, some kind of trouble was upsetting Nat and Alex's usual state of marital bliss. And it seemed Natalie, at least, wanted him to referee.

Unfortunately, this was far from the ideal time. But he couldn't simply turn his good friends around and on their way. Not when Natalie's eyes were pleading with him to leave with them.

Mateo unfolded his arms. “Sure,” he said, smiling, “we'd love to go.”

Bailey spun on her heel. “Let me just race upstairs for a moment.”

Natalie headed down the hall. “Do you mind if I use a bathroom? Reece sicked up a little on his shirt. He's had a cough.”

“Of course.” Mateo ran an assessing eye over the baby, but he didn't look flushed or ill. A little restless perhaps. “You know where the closest one is.”

Alex waited until Natalie was out of earshot before he stepped closer.

“Sorry about this.”

“No need to apologize. You're welcome any time.”

There were simply more convenient times than others.

“It was Nat's idea we drop in. She values your opinion.” Alex shrugged. “I do too.”

“What's the problem?”

“Nat wanted to pin you down to get your take on—”

“All set!”

Alex stopped mid-sentence and both men's attention swung to the stairs. Bailey was bouncing down, a big bag over her shoulder. When she reached the foyer floor, she glanced around. “Where's Nat?”

“Here we are.”

Natalie emerged, baby Reece resting on her hip, his cheek on her shoulder. Carefully, she handed him over to Alex. “I'm afraid he's getting a little too heavy for Mummy to carry.”

“Babies do grow up,” Alex said, swinging Reece onto his own hip.

“But they still need protecting.”

“In lots of ways,” Alex pointed out.

Mateo opened the door. “We should go.”

As they headed out the door, Bailey went to loop her arm through his but he hadn't forgotten that email. How the truth
had made him feel. Grinding his back teeth, he hastened his step, caught up with Alex and helped him put Reece in his seat.