Daddy's Temptation

Prologue

“Oh! Oh…”

I groaned as he pushed inside me, his hard cock pulsing and shuddering as he came. I arched my back, and my arms drew him against my chest, pressing him against my rounded breasts. I drew him closer, gritting my teeth as he pushed into me.

He shivered in my arms, pumping deep inside me. Each thrust rubbed over my places of pleasure, sending little shivers down to my toes. I had already came twice, but I felt myself almost coming again. Just then he let out a deep, throaty growl. I felt the full force of his release. I sighed and felt a deep satisfaction as he collapsed on top of me. His weight was warm and firm on my body.

When I woke again, he rolled off me. Lying beside me, he gave me a weary grin.

“Oh, baby,” he moaned, “that was fantastic.”

I smiled and nestled against him as he held me close. “Thanks,” I said. “It was.”

Then he turned into a monster.

I screamed. The face looking into mine was hideous. His flesh was ragged and decomposing. He was a terrifying distortion—an awful mask. I could smell the scent of corrupted flesh and feel the wetness of it. He grinned at me, and I screamed.

I sat up, eyes open, still screaming.

I blinked and discovered that I was looking up at my own ceiling and then into my own cupboard-sized bathroom, where I had fortunately left the light on.

Collapsing back on to the bed, I sighed.

It had been a dream.

“Nightmare, more like,” I said to myself.

I was used to these dreams. It had been a year since I left Mike, but I still had nightmares about him and about what he had done to me. So suave, so kind. He had slowly turned into the kind of abuser that was accurately represented by the vile thing of my dreams. Not that the dream-monster was the same every time, but each time it was horrible. I imagined that’s how he really looked behind the mask.

“Whew.”

I leaned back on the pillows and let reality slowly sink in. It was warm in my room. The duvet was tucked up to my chin, and yet I did not feel warm or safe. I missed closeness. Even Mike, as cruel as he was, was something.

Now I am all alone.

I sighed. I knew two o’clock in the morning tended to do things like that to someone. In the morning I would surely feel better.

Come on, Emma, I told myself. Yes, you are twenty-eight and single. But so what? That isn’t really so terrible, is it? So nightmarish?

Maybe it isn’t, I thought wryly. But tomorrow might be that scary. Tomorrow I started work again, and it wasn’t just any old job.

Since I left college seven years ago, my jobs had varied from being a writer to a teacher. I left my teaching job at Redwood Kindergarten following a bout of depression and started working as an au pair. I was going to work on my first assignment tomorrow.

And what an assignment. Whew.

The universe really knows that I like a challenge. So instead of starting off on some easy task, like helping out some stressed-out single mom, I got Alexander Carring, a stunning, reclusive billionaire.

Being nanny to Alexander Carring’s children was not just a challenge. It was a task to scare even the most confident. And after a year with an abusive partner, I was far from that.

All I wanted at this point in life was peace. As I lay there in the darkness of the two o’clock morning, peace seemed like the one thing that eluded me. I would just have to wait until tomorrow.

Chapter 1

Emma

I let my off-key voice fill the small kitchen in my bedsit as I put the coffee on. Singing always made me feel better. I needed it this morning. This was the morning I would start my job.

I put the kettle on and then went upstairs to dress. This was the bit that always scared me. Ever since Mike, I had thought of myself as frumpy, unattractive, and graceless. I had no idea if I could even make a good impression anymore.

Well, if you don’t try, you don’t know.

One thing I still had was my tenacity. I went to my cupboard, opened it, and pulled out a pinstripe blouse and some blue slacks. Let’s try this, then.

They were both an nearly identical shade of blue, the blouse from Gant, a present from a friend who always looked cut. I pulled them on. The slacks fit well, and the shirt was a nice loose, one that draped beautifully. I shook out my honey-blond hair over my shoulders—Mike always liked it wild and un-brushed. I glanced at myself in the mirror.

There.

The girl looking back at me was tall, neither super skinny nor super-anything-else, with a long oval face and hazel eyes. Her lips were a natural brown and her skin was clear, slightly freckled over the nose. The blue actually suits me. A color somewhere between Slate and Prussian, it was very pretty. I drew on some navy shoes with a slight heel and turned to the mirror, viciously arranging my hair in the mock French roll I thought was suitably severe.

Giving myself a critical squint, I went through to put on makeup and thence to see if the demon coffee machine could be persuaded to give me a second cup.

Breakfast was hasty. The clock was ticking, and I had agreed to be there by eight thirty so I could meet my employer before he jetted off somewhere. Then I was on the road.

Life either likes you, or it doesn’t. This morning, it seemed to violently hate me for some reason.

“For pity’s sake!” I shouted out of the window as the traffic backed up in front of me. The workday rush seethed and hooted and gathered round me, hemming me in with the scent of exhaust fumes and the rising pressure of a thousand tempers, loosely held. I put my head on my steering wheel and practiced the ancient art of screaming quietly.

After about a minute of that, I felt better. I looked up and looked around. We were still moving, if just. I let myself roll forward the next inch or so, and decided to turn on the radio. At least if I had to be stuck, and I was destined to be late for my first job in four months, I might as well have music.

“Non…regrette…rien!”

I was shouting along with an Edith Piaff song on the radio as I finally rolled into the car park at my work. The Reliance Au Pair Agency was on the fifth floor of the massive building that reared up ahead of me. Edith Piaf had put me in a great mood, and I was ready to go. I ran up the short flight of steps with perhaps a minute to spare. I could make it. I really could! I collapsed into the lift, panting.

The man in the lift with me insisted on going all the way down to the basement, but I was exactly on time as I fell out of the lift on the top floor. I ran down the hallway, clutching my bag, keeping my balance just on my heeled shoes.

“Watch out!”

I shouted it exactly as I ran into the tall, dark-suited man in the corridor ahead of me. He staggered back, and I went down hard.

I was hissing in agony when I stood up. One of my ankles had twisted, and my shoes insisted on twisting and compressing my little toe wickedly.

“You might have minded out of the way!” I said quite loudly at the tall man. My hair had fallen loose, too, and it flowed over my shoulders, a mass of honey-dark curls down to my shoulders. “You might not be late, but I am!”

I glared at him and pushed my way past. As I did so, he turned toward me.

“If you are late, I presume you are Miss Blunt?”

I stared at him, mouth open. “What?”

“I am Mr. Carring. You are assigned to work for me?”

Brilliant. I would have passed out. I swear I would have. If my blood pressure was slightly lower, I would have been lying unconscious on the tiles at that moment. Life is what it is, though, so I was left standing upright to face my tormentor.

“Yes,” I said.

“Oh.”

He said it thinly, a thread of a word. If he had been even a fraction ruder, he would have sniffed as he said it. As it was, he looked me up and down. I flinched. I imagined I must have looked a sight, with my slacks now dusty and my hair all loose about my shoulders. I bit my nail and met his gaze.

He was, as I noticed earlier, taller than me, his body lean but well muscled, his hair cut severely, his eyes a shade paler than his black hair. His face was thin, cheekbones sculpted in a way that would make Michelangelo proud, mouth sensitive and full. I knew I was staring, but I couldn’t help it. I cleared my throat and looked hastily away.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

I resolutely looked at the wall. He had a beautiful accent—an impeccable British voice. This was the owner of Carring Solutions, an investment bank that had steadily rolled in funds for the last decade or so, making its sole owner, Alexander Carring, a cool billion. Whatever he has in the bank, I told myself, he still doesn’t have the right to look at me like he discovered me in his soup.

“You’re late.”

I glared at him before I realized what I was doing. Realizing it, I looked at the wall, cheeks flaming. “I know that,” I mumbled.

He said nothing. When I looked back at him, I caught a lift of his cheeks, before he hastily rearranged his face to neutrality. Had he been smiling? I swallowed hard.

“Well then,” he said easily. “If you know that, I suppose there’s no point me pointing it out anymore. I expect you will be more reliable in your care of my children.”

I wanted to glare again. Instead I made my voice so frosty I could use it to set ice cream. “I take my responsibilities extremely seriously, Mr. Carring. I would give my life to keep a child safe.”

I meant it. Being a teacher does that to you. Every one of those twentysomething young lives is in your hands, and you find yourself diving into swimming pools or walking into traffic without even thinking about it, to keep a child unharmed.

He gave me an odd look. “That remains to be seen,” he said, very quietly.

“You have my word.”

He snorted. Whatever that odd expression was disappeared, hidden behind that bland mask again. I felt hurt. My word means everything to me, and he had no right to dismiss it so glibly. I was going to take him up on that, but he was walking again and I followed. We walked the last few paces to my employer’s office together and looked at the receptionist at the same moment. The receptionist looked scared.

“Mrs. Hitchins?”

“Um, yes. Good morning, Mr. Carring.”

I had the momentary pleasure of being just behind his shoulder and seeing, undiluted, the effect he had on other people. It was gratifying. At least I’m not the only person who’s scared of him. If anything, Carla looked more frightened than I was.

“I have just met Miss Blunt,” he continued evenly. “I presume there is some sort of paperwork to be done before she meets the children?”

Children. Not kids. I grinned to myself. He really was British, wasn’t he? It was, if I was honest, quite sexy. I was just not ready to admit that to anyone yet, not even myself.

“Um, yes,” Carla said nervously. “You both need to sign this form. This one is for the agreement, and this one, here, is an indemnity…”

Carla rummaged behind the desk. She did not see, as I did, the sudden closing of his features.

“I’m not signing it.”

“Mr. Carring?” Carla stared at him, long-lashed eyes blinking. She looked confused.

“The indemnity,” he said. “I am not signing it. If anything happens to my children, I will hold your agency, and Miss Blunt, personally responsible.” His face was starkly empty.

“Now hold on a minute!” I blurted out at that, feeling my cheeks heat with anger.

He swiveled round to stare at me.

Under that cool stare, I felt myself wither. I cleared my throat and continued in a slightly softer tone of voice. “The indemnity doesn’t excuse me if something happens,” I explained. “It is simply a statement from you, to say that you have, to the best of your knowledge, informed me of any dangers or health risks to your children.”

I kept it as formal as possible, using each inch of my degree in English Literature to its fullest extent. He looked at me. Those dark eyes searched mine and, to my shock, I saw a deep, buried pain there.

“Very well,” he said hoarsely. “But I am telling you, Miss Blunt, that if so much as a single hair on my children’s heads is harmed, I will seek you out. And I will see that justice is done.”

It only occurred to me after he had signed the paper and pushed it back at Carla that he had never said whether or not justice would be carried out in the court or according to his own inner compass. I shuddered.

“Well then, Miss Blunt,” he said quietly, when both forms were signed. “That seems to be all the formalities. Now all that remains is for me to leave you with my own papers and instructions.”

“Sorry?”

He was already walking to the office door. I struggled to keep up as we headed back down the hallway and to the doorway of the lift where, a few brief minutes earlier, we had just met.

“Here,” he said briefly, passing me a sheaf of printed documents, neatly packed into a slimline envelope. “I am a busy man. In two hours I should be in Chicago. I cannot take time off simply to show the nanny round my house. In that envelope is everything you need to know. The set of keys assigned to you is here.” He passed them to me, then continued. “I should ask you to sign that you have read it but I am told you are an educated woman and I am sure you do not need me to tell you the basics. Now if you will excuse me, I am late. And for me, time is money.”

He looked at me, lips lifting in what seemed to be a smile or a smirk. Then, before I had fully got to grips with what he had just said, he turned and walked, quickly and silently, into the lift.

“Wait!” I shouted.

The door was already closing, leaving me alone in the hallway with an envelope, keys and no idea at all how to begin.

Chapter 2

Emma

“And the back door opens out onto the pool area. On no account allow the children out there unobserved…”

I read the notes as I walked up the drive toward the house. That was why I was not fully looking up at it until I came to rest on the front steps. Then I looked up. I almost fell over.

The house was massive. Painted a delicate cream, slate roofed, with twelve steps leading to the front door, it was a mansion, not a house. By anyone’s definition. I was raised in a small apartment—it had an upstairs and a downstairs. I had never—ever—seen a house with three floors. Or one, for that matter, with so many windows. And doors. And such a high wall around the garden.

I stepped back, cleared my throat, and looked up at it again. I looked down at the doorstep, aware that my muddy feet had left a mark there. I had to stop myself wiping it off.

Be cool, Emma, I told myself firmly. It’s a house. What’s it going to do to you? Swallow you? I chuckled nervously to myself and rang the bell. Somewhere, magnified by the depths of the vast house, I heard it ring. I waited. Pressed it again. A few seconds later, someone answered it.

“Hello?”

I jumped. The older woman who opened it looked up at me with a distrustful gaze. I swallowed and set off boldly.

“Hello!” I said nervously. “I’m Emma Blunt. The au pair? I’m pleased to meet you. I was sent here, um, unaccompanied by Mr. Carring?”

The diminutive lady in the hallway looked up at me again, more blankly this time. I realized I had been babbling and cleared my throat.

“Emma Blunt,” I said, holding out my hand and making a rather sickly attempt at a grin. “You were expecting me, I think?”

The older woman cleared her throat. “I’m Paula Laroche, the charlady. Mr. Carring said to expect visitors. You want to come in?”

“Yes!” I said, weak with relief. “I’m looking after the children. Um, Jack and…Camilla? I’m going to be here for a month.” I asked, reaching awkwardly for the sheaf of notes he sent with me to check I had the names right.

“Yes! Yes.” The woman nodded, face lighting up as I said the names of the children. “Come this way. They’re upstairs.”

“Thank you.”

Feeling grateful to Paula, I followed her upstairs. The stairs seemed to go on forever and I looked around as we went, marveling at the stylish understatement of the house. The stairs were laminated wood with a wrought-iron balustrade, something between delightfully vintage and insanely modern at the same time. The walls were cream, the stairs pale wood, the whole house scented with some subtle perfume. I was already falling in love with the place.

“Here.” she said, stopping outside a painted wooden door. The floor had changed again: here it was carpeted, the carpet so soft and silky it absorbed all sound. She knocked once, then opened it.

“Paula!” I heard a childish voice cry out happily, and a second later a little boy cannoned into my newfound guardian angel, embracing her knees.

“I have a visitor for you,” she said gently. Her long, knotted fingers stroked the gilded softness of his hair. Two wide green-brown eyes stared up at me solemnly.

The little boy, Jack, was looking up at me like a diminutive angel. He had a soft face, wide eyes with long lashes, and slightly curly gold hair. His body was somewhere between the softness of childhood and the start of teenage growth. He was, according to my list, nine years old. I felt my heart stir with something that I could swear was awe—or the beginning of love.

I smiled down at him. He gazed at me. He kept his hand resolutely in Paula’s, and moved so that she was between himself and I. He kept out of sight for a second, and then peered up again, to see, I guessed, if I was still looking. I grinned at him again and he smiled back, shy, hand wringing his shirt.

“You’re Jack, yes?” I asked gently. “Hi, I’m Emma.”

He shot behind Paula, not saying a word. He was shy it seemed. Paula chuckled.

“Come now, master Jack. Miss Emma wanted to say something to you,” she said, voice still laughing.

“Don’t want to come out,” Jack said firmly.

I smiled. He seemed a little hesitant, almost as one younger than himself would be. But no one said he had to march boldly out and greet me, now did they? And far rather a shy angel than a wounded, violent child, any day.

“Okay, Jack,” I said gently. “Now let’s go and find your sister. Okay?”

Jack looked up at me, eyes like saucers. “Cammi’s not playing.”

“Oh?” I asked. I looked inquiringly at Paula, who shrugged.

“Miss Cammi’s probably upstairs, Miss Emma,” she said carefully. “She’s very…” she made a gesture with her hands that I took to mean unhappiness, or nerves. I nodded.

“We’ll give her some time,” I nodded. “Isn’t that right, Jack?” I asked. He looked at me with those soft eyes and grinned.

“You like cars, Emma?”

I couldn’t help smiling at his candidness, his enthusiasm. “Yes!” I nodded. I do like cars. At one time, my guilty pleasure was the Grand Prix on TV. I haven’t watched for years, but I still followed the news.

“Come and see my cars!” Jack said. He took my hand and led me across the room, which I assumed—rightly, it seemed—to be some activity room for the children. It had an uncarpeted, high-polished laminate floor, long windows blazing with sunshine and a strange absence of all but the most basic furniture. He went to a wooden box and lifted the lid. Inside were cars. Beautiful models, made to scale—priceless, probably. I stared.

“An’ this one’s a BMW, and this one…” Jack was busy scratching round in the box, producing a bright red one with a rearing-horse insignia in tiny paintwork on the bonnet, “this one’s my favorite!” he said proudly. “It’s a Ferrari!”

I smiled, noting Paula disappeared somewhere during the interaction. “It’s beautiful.”

He had it on the floor, making car noises.

“Vroom, vroom! Eeee…” he made the cornering noise, pushing it along on two wheels. The wheels—real rubber, I noted—left a slight stain on the pristine pale-wood flooring.

I reached out to touch the stain, wondering if I could take it off with a toothbrush. He jerked his hand away from the car and looked up at me, eyes swimming.

“Sorry,” he said quickly. He hastily began to gather up the cars, and I felt my heart twist achingly.

“No, Jack,” I said gently. “What’s the matter? We don’t have to stop playing.”

“We don’t?” He put the car in carefully as I came to join him at the trunk.

“No,” I said gently. “What’s up? Did you think I was mad because of the mark on the floor?”

He nodded, a tear running down his face. I swallowed hard, feeling suddenly angry. If there is one thing I hate more than anything, it is people who spoil their kids—often as compensation—and then fly off the handle when they accidentally break or damage something by playing with it. If they didn’t want to buy something expensive, they shouldn’t have.

“Jack,” I said, gentle but firm. “It’s rubber. It’ll come off the floor. It doesn’t matter. Your daddy bought these for you. He didn’t want you to just look at them, now, did he?”

Jack swallowed hard. “I dunno!” he wailed. “Daddy gets so angry sometimes and…and it’s not my fault I break things sometimes. He doesn’t understand.” His lip wobbled dangerously and he looked at his shoes.

I swallowed hard, trying not to let my anger show. I wasn’t angry with Jack. I was angry with Alexander Carring. Of all the arrogant, emotionless…

“It’s okay,” I said gently. “It’s okay. Daddy’s got his own problems, I’m sure. But if we want to play cars properly, I have much better ones.”

“You do?” he looked up at me, eyes round.

“Yes,” I said firmly. We’d be making our own cars, out of whatever junk I could find. At least he could play properly with those. “But first,” I said, “let’s find your sister. Camilla. She might want to play too.”

“Cammi doesn’t like playing anymore. She’s sad all the time.” He looked somewhat frustrated, if anything. I bit my lip. What the hell is going on here?

“Is she in her bedroom?” He nodded. “Is she sad now?”

He nodded again.

“Can we go find her?”

“Okay.”

I followed him out of the sunny room and down the hallway, back on the soft carpets again. We reached a tall painted wooden door and I stopped, looking at him questioningly.

He nodded, then retreated a pace. I knocked. “Camilla?”

No answer.

“Camilla?”

I waited and felt a tug on my hand. Jack was standing next to me. I looked down into his earnest green-brown gaze. “Ca-meel,” he whispered.

“What?”

“Not Camilla,” he corrected patiently. “Camille.”

“Oh. Camille?”

Still nothing. I paused. I have a rule with children: Never intrude into their private space unless you have to. Children have dignity, too, all the more fragile for being stepped on so often.

“Jack? Would Camille mind if I walked in?”

Jack didn’t say anything. He just walked up to the door and dragged it open. I felt a bit shocked, and suddenly, on the threshold, a bit awkward, but I peered in anyway. It was dark in there. It smelled of the kind of perfume people buy for little girls, sweet and floral. I walked in across the soft carpet, reached for the curtains and opened them. Jack had already disappeared into the hallway and I let him go. Meeting his six-year-old sister would probably be better with just the two of us there. I breathed out, settling myself.

“Camille?”

Somewhere on the bed, something moved fractionally. I looked around to give her time. The room was done in lurid pink, the furniture was cottage-style, wooden, and white. The bed covers were black and pink pinstripes. I focused on the movement on the upper of the bunk beds. As my eyes came into focus, I saw the figure of a small girl. She also had pale hair, more strawberry toned than the sunny hair of her brother. She was dressed in cream and she had a bow in her hair. She was huddled so I could not see her face.

“Camille?”

The bundle inched inward, curling up on itself. Camille clearly didn’t want to know anything about me. I reached up, tempted to touch her on the shoulder, but something told me I should be ultracareful. I withdrew.

“I just want to tell you that I’m here. Your brother and I are going to go and play outside. We’re going to make cars. If you want to join in, you can, but if you don’t want, that’s also fine. You can stay here until lunchtime if you want.”

I waited a moment or two, then turned and walked slowly out.

“Daddy?”

The little voice on the bed made me turn around suddenly in the doorway. It was so heartbroken, so wracked, that it compelled me. I looked up at the bed.

A small dainty face, plump cheeks streaked with tears, was looking up at me. Her blond hair was disarrayed, curls sticking to her face where tears had soaked it. Her mouth was already wobbling with misery. I breathed out, feeling suddenly heartbroken.

“Yes?”

“Where’s Daddy? I want to see him.”

I sighed. “Daddy left this morning. To Chicago. He’ll be back on Wednesday night.”

Camille started crying brokenly. “But he didn’t say goodbye! Why did he just go? Is he mad at me?”

She started crying again and I felt my blood boiling. How could her father just walk out, without even telling her he had gone? What kind of father just leaves, without saying goodbye, or without any assurance he’ll come back soon? I sat down on the pink-and-black cushion of a wooden chair. Looked up at her. She sneaked to the end of the bunk to look down at me, curious despite tears.

“Camille,” I said. “Your daddy wasn’t mad at you. I saw him before he left. He told me you’re the most special little girl in the whole world, and that I must take very good care of you.” More or less.

“Really?” Camille breathed. The pure wonder on the little angelic face stabbed my heart. I wanted to cry too.

“Yes, really.”

“Oh!” She suddenly looked happy again. I cursed Alexander Carring for having just left her like that, with no word or explanation or even a kiss. She slid across the bed, heading for the rails.

“Who are you?” she asked, foot on the railing, suddenly suspicious. “Why would Daddy tell you that?”

I sighed. “He left me to look after you,” I said gently. “He wanted to know you were safe.” That part was absolutely true. He seemed fanatical about his childcare’s physical safety, which, for a man who seemed entirely ignorant of their emotional states, was odd.

“He didn’t tell me that,” Camille said, squinting at me mistrustfully. I half expected her to call the police and have me thrown out. Of the two siblings, though the younger, she seemed far more worldly.

“He didn’t?” I asked. I was not pretending to be surprised. I really did think he would have thought to tell them something. Even if it was just, “be good for auntie Emma,” or something like that; something my own family would have done. But evidently he hadn’t.

“No,” Camille said. “He just sneaked off.”

“Well,” I said brightly, “maybe he wanted it to be a surprise. We’ll have lots of fun. We’re going to go and play cars. You coming?”

“Not if it’s Jack’s stupid cars,” Camille said, suddenly sulking. “He doesn’t want to let me touch them.”

She was retreating to her corner again and I stood, feeling desperate to reach out to her. “It’s not Jack’s cars,” I said quickly. “We’ve got a better idea. Do you like makeup?” I asked. The room was furnished with a tiny dressing table with its own oval mirror.

“No,” Camille said shortly. “Makeup’s for ladies. I don’t want to be a lady.”

“Oh?” That reply stumped me.

“No.”

“Okay.”

I walked across the carpet, deciding Camille needed time alone.

“Are we going outside?” she asked suddenly as I was halfway across the room.

“Yes.”

“Yay!”

She scrambled to the end of the bed and slipped her feet along the ladder-rungs, jumping down.

I collected Jack from the other end of the hallway. We went outside. The sunlight was dazzling. The lawn was like a carpet of a shade of emerald I have never actually seen outside of the movies. Jack took off across the lawn, arms making an airplane.

“Vrooom….”

I laughed, watching the children transform from hesitant, nervous creatures into happy, playful kids in an instant. They gamboled about on the lawn, and even Camille forgot her sadness temporarily and consented to wrestle with Jack, both of them collapsing in a giggly heap on the lawn.

I laughed with them, then sat down in the shade of a small tree.

“Cars!” Jack came running over to me, face flushed and expectant. I swallowed.

“I need to go and get some things,” I said, suddenly desperate that there would be something to make cars out of. There must be empty toilet-rolls, even in a mansion? Jack looked disappointed.

“It’s okay,” he shrugged, standing up. “You didn’t have to mean it. We’ll play something else.”

I swallowed, seeing how he instantly excused my oversight. I got the feeling his father said he would do things and then forgot them. Again my rage burned.

“We’re doing this!” I said brightly. “I just need a minute. You kids can play until I get back here, right?”

“Yes!”

Camille amazed me by launching herself at Jack. She grabbed his knees in a good approximation of a football tackle, and he, laughing and seemingly more surprised even than I was, collapsed onto his back while the small fury wrestled with his downed body.

I headed quickly inside.

“Paula?”

She appeared after a moment.

“Yes, miss?”

“Paula! Toilet rolls. Empty ones. And bottles. And glue?”

She looked at me blankly, then she nodded. “Making things?” she smiled.

“Yes!” I wanted to kiss her for understanding. “Do you have glue?”

“Try the master’ office,” she advised sagely. “And toilet rolls? We recycle. There’s dozens of inners in the cellar downstairs. I’ll get them.”

“Thanks!” I squeezed her hand then ran for the stairs. “Where’s the office?”

“Upstairs, second room on the right. Careful of the carpet.”

“Okay!”

Finding the office was easy. I walked in on the pristine white carpet and looked round quickly.

I had to be fast, I knew that. But the place made me curious. This was his office. Alexander Carring. His private space. Being in it gave me a delicious tingle down to my toes. I couldn’t help snooping, just a little.

The place was white, with a dark-wood desk and a smart Japanese-style blind over the windows. There was a set of shelves on the far wall and a tall leather office-chair behind it. On the shelves were three photographs, framed in tasteful silvery frames. One was Jack, gap-toothed and about six years old, dressed in a fancy school uniform. One was Camille, curly-haired and perhaps two years old. The third was a woman with blond hair.

I swallowed hard, looking down at the soft white carpet. I was surprised to feel a strange mix of jealousy and inadequacy swamp me. The woman, laughing and beautiful, was every inch the glamorous, stylish siren I wished I could be.

Come on, Emma! You’re here as an au pair. He wouldn’t look at you anyway. Remembering my place, I turned my attention to raiding the drawers.

In the second drawer from the bottom, I found what I wanted. Proper office-glue. Transparent, fluid and the best make. I smiled and pocketed it. As I crossed the hallway and headed out, I suddenly thought that I hadn’t checked whether or not I had left footmarks on his carpet. I was almost entirely sure that I had.

It can’t be helped. Maybe Paula would clean it up.

We got started as soon as I returned with a box of cardboard bits and some glue. Paula had provided scissors.

“Look at my car!” Jack exclaimed. He had found two toilet-roll inners and a box to work from.

“It’s great.”

“I’m also making a car,” Camille explained happily. “I’m making room for people. See?”

I saw she had carefully torn a hole in the box and had folded other cardboard to make something like triangles, laid on their backs.

“That’s very clever,” I said. She grinned up at me. Outside, I noticed, her eyes were blue, like the sky.

“I told Jack that,” she said. I laughed.

Jack pouted. “Mine’s clever,” he said stiffly.

“It is,” I agreed.

Half an hour later, triumphant and grinning, the two kids returned indoors with their creations, whooping and making car-noises. Or at least Jack was. Camille was carrying hers carefully, weaving it through the air almost as if it were a plane. She looked more relaxed than she had all day.

While the kids had lunch, I chatted to Paula, who explained that, even though it was holidays for the kids, they had lessons. Jack in arithmetic, Camille in dance. Sure enough, at one o’clock, exactly, two students turned up. The elder, a girl called Carey, took Jack upstairs to tutor and the younger, a bright-faced girl in her late teens called Millie, took Cammi to another room for her lessons. The lessons at least gave me time to go home and collect my things—some clothes for the next while and my laptop.

My room—when Paula took me to it—was yet another surprise. On the same floor as the rooms of the kids and, presumably, the master of the house. It was a delight. Small and meant for guests this place might be, but it was easily the most sumptuously-appointed place I had been in before.

“I must admit I actually hate this man,” I said, looking at the ceiling. “But I do like his house.”

The rest of the afternoon passed faster than I would have thought, and getting the kids to bed and sleeping also proved easy. At around nine o’clock, exhausted myself, I collapsed into the sumptuous, comfy bed.

I found my thoughts straying to Alexander Carring. I was so angry with him for how he had raised the kids. They were well behaved, it was true. But they were like small, frightened automata, not real kids. For all that, I also had to admit, at least to myself, that I was attracted to him. I recalled our meeting just that morning. My hand settled on my abdomen, drifted, and I was surprised to notice a dampness between my legs.

What? I blinked. I giggled. Was thinking about Alexander Carring arousing me? Already? I shook my head.

This man is the father of my charges, I told myself sternly. He is arrogant, unfeeling and self-serving. He is not for you. Yes, he is the sexiest man ever. But don’t. Just don’t.

“Emma,” I said aloud, laughing at myself. “Stay away.”

I couldn’t help imagining what he would be like undressed, how that lean body would gleam in the soft light of the bedroom, the scent of his cologne warm on his skin, the feel of those hard lips on my own. What would he be like in bed? Slow and sexy, or fast and passionate? I giggled, imagining his own hand stroking me, his body pressed on my own. What would I do if it was possible to find out more about him?

It wouldn’t, I thought, as I rolled onto my side, be that hard to resist temptation…he was not attractive enough to overcome his repellant character. Not for me.

I tried not to think about my discovery in the study—the beautiful glamor girl in the picture. I tried not to wonder what had happened or where she was now. I tried not to know, despite myself, that he would never really be attracted to someone as ordinary, as plain and frumpy, as me.

Chapter 3

Emma

My days with the kids went faster than I had expected. And already, I could swear I could see differences. That morning I was informed by Jack that he had dreamed about motor-cars, and he had decided he wanted to be a driver when he grew up. Camille laughed.

“You wouldn’t be a good driver.”

“Why?” Jack asked, voice screechy with rage.

“Your arms aren’t long enough to reach the wheel.”

Jack looked miserable and I grinned at him. “Long arms aren’t needed for driving. I promise. Look at me. I can drive…are my arms that long?” They both giggled.

“What?” I asked innocently.

“Nothing…”

That day, we played outside, games of hide-and-seek and races. We played until lunchtime and then came out and played afterward—Wednesday was their afternoon off. The games of hide-and-seek grew more elaborate, and I found myself perpetually “on,” actually challenged. There was no sign of Jack. It was five o’clock, shadows lengthening, and I was getting the first flutter of distress.

“Jack?”

Camille walked behind me, also looking worried. We had been hunting for ten minutes when we heard it. The roaring of an engine, coming fast across the lawn.

Jack was driving. What he was driving I took a moment to discern. It was small, knee-height and whirred like a grass-cutter. At first I thought it was one, except that it looked just like a miniature car. It was a miniature car, designed perfectly for a tiny rider, complete with the Ferrari badge. Cammi clapped her hands delightedly and ran toward him.

“There it is! You found it!” she shouted excitedly.

“Vroom, vroom!”

Jack was shouting at the top of his lungs, Camille was grinning benevolently, and I had my hands clasped, laughing with joy.

Then, suddenly, a voice rolled across the lawns like a gunshot.

“Jack Carring! Stop. Right. Now.”

I stopped too, terrified for a moment, whirling to face the sound. Camille stood still, and Jack’s face transformed into a mask of fear. He jumped out of the car and ran across the lawn, skidding to his knees in haste. He sat there, lip trembling, fighting not to cry. I struggled not to stare as Alexander Carring marched across the grass toward his small prone son.

“What on earth did you think you were doing?” he hissed, dragging on his arm to make him stand. He cuffed him on the side of the head.

Jack didn’t react to the blow. He scrambled up, looking up at his father, big eyes swimming. “Daddy, I…I…”

He started sobbing. That was too much. I marched over the grass, heedless of how my hair was in disarray, how covered with grass-stains my jeans had become. I was sure I looked horrible, but it matched my rage.

“Mr. Carring,” I said, loud and clear. “Your son didn’t mean to do any harm. If he was not allowed to use that car, shouldn’t you have told me? And there wasn’t any need for hitting. Your son is frightened.”

Jack hiccupped with fear, his thumb in his mouth in the gesture of a much smaller child.

“My son knew very well he did wrong,” Mr. Carring said thinly. “I confiscated that thing for a good reason. Look at the lawn!” He waved a hand despairingly at the green grass, now furrowed, here and there, with small brownish wheel-tracks.

“The lawn!” I exclaimed. “It will grow back. Look at your son.”

We both looked at Jack. Cammi had gone across to comfort him. As we watched, he pushed her away and she walked off, tears running down her cheeks. I watched Alexander Carring as he looked at them. He ran a hand through his hair. Then he turned to me.

“Do you have children?” His voice was arid.

“No,” I retorted, heatedly. “But I was one. And Heaven help me, I’m glad I wasn’t raised the way you’re raising these ones.”

He spun round, glared at me as if I had slapped him. We regarded each other levelly for a moment. Then he cleared his throat.

“You have no right to interfere with my raising of my children,” he said icily. “You are their nanny. Not their mother.” He spat the word. “I know our contract was for a month. But you clearly have no idea of your place. Get off my property.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Now go.”

“Mr. Carring,” I said. I was an arm’s length away from him and I could smell the spicy musk of his aftershave and see a small pulse beating somewhere in his forehead. I drew in a breath and counseled myself to ignore both, and the effect they were beginning to have on me. I tipped my head back to look into his eyes. “We had an agreement. I am here with these children for a month. And I think they are sorely in need of me.”

He jerked as if I had slapped him. His eyes narrowed. “I beg your pardon?”

“Your children are great,” I began, suddenly hesitant. “Well behaved, polite, perfect. They are also nothing like normal kids. The last few days have given them some of their childhood back. I will not let you throw me out and end all that because of some personal disagreement between us.”

I was panting when I finished, my rage burning inside me. He glared at me. I glared back, defiantly. I saw something flicker in his eyes. He flicked a tongue across dry, perfect lips. I tensed. Waited for the next words.

“You have no right to criticism my methods. My kids are perfect,” he said quietly. “I…appreciate your concern,” he said sarcastically. “But there is no need for it.”

“Fine,” I said, feeling suddenly bitter. So he had just fired me. So what? I didn’t actually need to stand here arguing with him. “Then I’ll go.” I turned quickly away from him.

He grabbed my wrist. The fingers, pressing on it, were corded with muscle, hard and strong. I could feel the warmth of his skin and, somewhere, a pulse throbbed deep in me. I looked down at my wrist and then up at him.

“You will unhand me.”

He was looking down at me and, as I wrenched my wrist left and right, trying to free it, what was written in his eyes was not anger. Anything but.

“Let me go,” I said, giving my wrist a savage wrench to the right. He didn’t react, didn’t move a muscle. His eyes stayed watching mine and a warmth flickered in them, a warmth that excited me. I twisted my arm. He blinked, as if trying to clear his thoughts.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. He let go and, as abruptly as it had flowered, the tension died. I took my wrist back, circling it experimentally, though I was sure there was nothing broken. His grip was almost strong enough for that. “I had no right to…lay hands on you like that. Forgive me.”

He was looking at the ground and he licked his lips again, clearly a nervous habit. I said nothing, and he looked up at me. His eyes were bare of any kind of pretense, and the expression I read in them was a mix of fear, surprise and, somewhere in their depths a spark of longing.

The latter surprised me, more so because it mirrored exactly what I felt. I wanted to grab him, to hold him in my arms, to press that lean, strong, firm body against my own and let him take me, let that wild encounter go to a natural conclusion. But that was my foolish imagination. Fired by the scent of spice and musk, aroused by the depths of his eyes. I was being stupid.

“I should go,” I said, clearing my throat.

“You should,” he said quietly. “We should discuss this when we are both more…rational.” He said it with a quirk of his lips that could have been self-mockery. I nodded.

“Yes,” I agreed. “We’ll do that.”

Neither of us moved. We both looked at each other and, in that moment, our eyes locked. He was the first to look away.

When the pounding speed of my heart returned to normal, I cleared my throat again.

“I should go,” I said again. This time, he made no move to stop me. I walked quietly across the lawn, leaving Alexander Carring and two small children standing there behind me. When I reached the house, I turned around.

Alexander had crossed the lawn and he was crouched beside Jack. The boy looked marginally less terrified, and Camille looked tense with hope. I bit my lip.

I hope everything works out between them.

Whatever happened, I was left with a tumult of my own feelings to address.

And I didn’t know where to start. I didn’t understand what I felt about this tall, cold authority that had just blasted into my life. All I knew was that I probably never would.

And I knew that, deep inside, I wanted him. I was wondering, with a flicker of hope that sent chills down my body, if he maybe, just maybe, didn’t feel that way too.

Chapter 4

Alex

I need to be objective about this. She is here, in my home, living just a story away. She is the nanny, for Pete’s sake! I need to be sensible here.

But how can I be? The look in her eyes when she confronted me. The passion in her voice! And the soft skin of her wrist, in between my fingers, making my body tense and stiff with longing.

She is fearless. She confronted me without a second word. She glared at me.

I wanted to smile, thinking of the fierceness in those hazel hawkish eyes. She was a fighter, and yet her heart was big. Why else had she defended the children, against me?

Am I really as bad as she said?

I swallowed hard, thinking of that. It was difficult to understand, difficult to know where I had gone wrong in his care for them. All these years since Ada had been here…I stopped. It was still too hard to think of her. Here, in this space, where I could almost, if I listened hard, hear her laughter on the air coming from the bedroom next door, where she lay in a satiny gown, just waiting for me…

Pull yourself together.

I shook his head, mind whirling. I had come in here to work, not to spend ages thinking about the new au pair! There were deadlines to meet, forms to fill in, deals to organize I didn’t need to waste this time as it is. I groaned, running a hand across my face, just thinking about it. I was tired. The excitement of having her here had made me forget that but it was true.

I reached across, yawning, taking one of the forms off the pile I had just printed and, glancing at the laptop I saw it was already nearly nine pm I really did have to get this stuff done soon. But I couldn’t stop my mind from going back over that unexpected confrontation, again and again. Couldn’t stop myself from thinking about the fact that she was here, somewhere, in my house. I had not felt like this for years. My cock was pulsing in my pants and my heart raced. I had thought myself devoid of desire, had thought he had long ago given up feeling this for any other woman. Until now.

Until a small, pert, and lovely young au pair had confronted me.

I swallowed, thinking of her curvy form in the tight jeans, her plaid blouse loose and casual under that abundance of shiny hair. I felt his throat tighten at the memory of her pale skin, the moist pinkness of her lips, the swell of breasts pushing the buttons of her shirt.

She is here somewhere, in my house. Alone.

I felt my hands clenching into fists. I shook my head, reaching for my pen. Forcing myself to think about work. I should not be thinking about her like this. She was my children’s nanny. I had met her three days before in a hallway, when she ran into me. And now. I recalled the brief first meeting with a smirk. She had cannoned into me, and for the briefest instant I had known what it felt like for those breasts to press against me, for that soft body to be pressed up close against me.

I wonder what she would do if I drew her close again. If I held her. Kissed her.

The thought sent an unfortunate excitation my groin I clenched my teeth, fighting it down. I would not touch her. I could stop right now in these games of imagining what she might be like in bed, what kind of a lover she might be. The thought of her, on her back, her smile broad, eyes closed, sent shivers through me. But I would not waste time on asking questions that must remain unanswered: what kind of a lover she was didn’t affect me.

The fact that I just almost fired her, though, did.

For that I had to apologize.

What if she took it into her head to leave? I was here for two days and then I would fly off for another business-meeting. A longer one. I could not imagine anyone with whom I would leave my children, besides her. And it was too late to start looking now. Besides, I trusted her. Already. If she would defend them against their father, how much more so against anything else?

Come on. Better go do it.

I glanced at the clock. It was past nine o’clock in the evening, well past suppertime. I had eaten a little at the dining-room table alone. I did not even know whether or not she ate something. Feeling a sudden pang of guilt for that, as well as for my earlier unkindness. I stood and walked slowly from the room.

I stopped at the window in the hallway, checking my reflection in the reflective surface. Couldn’t help laughing.

Alexander Carring, you are apologizing to a nanny. Not presenting a million-dollar deal at a business do. Or going on a date.

The last thought made my pulse quicken and I quickly fought it down. Walking along the hallway I reached the door to the room he had assigned Miss Blunt. Weird to feel this excitement, this sense of delicious anticipation, as I walked up the hallway but I did.

I reached the door. I knocked.

No answer.

I waited, listening. Somewhere, I could hear water running. And a thread of sound suggested someone sang. I listened, feeling my heart beat faster.

She was in the shower, clearly. It was not simply the thought of water cascading over that naked skin, glistening on her wet breasts and strong thighs that moved me, though. It was the strange intimacy and innocence of her voice. High and clear, it spoke to me of sweetness, of simple pleasures. Things I long ago lost…I am surprised to find she hadn’t.

I knocked again. The water was off now, but I did not receive an answer and assumed I had not heard. I was leaning on the lintel, lost in pleasant daydreaming when the door suddenly shot open. I found himself looking down into a face that looked up, as surprised to see me as I was in that moment.

“Uh, Miss Emma…”

I cleared his throat, feeling deliciously confused and faintly silly at once. It had been many years, too many, since I had been so surprised, so clearly put at disadvantage. The feeling was surprisingly nice. And she was, also, surprising.

This close, her fresh-washed hair just curling with the warmth of her skin, smelling of roses and toothpaste, mixed, her skin clean and radiant, I had to fight not to touch her.

Her eyes were wide open, the whites showing all around from shock. Her lips had parted, too, and the space between them was a little “o”. Perfect, he thought, for sliding in a tongue, for deepening a kiss, for tasting those sweet lips.

I groaned. Emma stared up at me, even more confused.

“Sir?”

She was wearing a dressing-gown, and the instant she had seen me, she had clutched it around herself. I could just see the soft white skin of her chest. I refused to let myself stare, made myself focus on her eyes.

“Forgive me, Miss Blunt,” I said, voice oddly raw. “I meant to come to tell you…to say that…Oh, damn it! Sorry,” I added, waving a long hand in a careless gesture that I hoped would convey confusion. “I wanted to say you should stay. You will, won’t you? For the month like we agreed on earlier?”

Emma stared up at me. I could not read her thoughts, but I tried. She looked confused.

I had to hide a smile, had to see it from her viewpoint too. A few hours ago, I had almost thrown her out. Now here I was, on her doorstep, as it were, all awkward and shy with her? It must have seemed very odd. It was. But somehow, maybe stupidly, it felt right.

“Mr. Carring,” Emma said, clearing her throat. Hearing her call me that made my heart contract. I wanted to correct her. Wanted to ask her to call me Alexander. That would be weird, I supposed. I left it as it was for now. I didn’t want to scare her. “I’m sorry. I was showering.” She continued.

She made an embarrassed gesture with her hands, taking in the tatty bathrobe, the wet hair, the lack of makeup of any kind. “If you want to discuss our contract, perhaps I should…dress?” she gave a weak laugh and inclined her head sideways.

“Oh, um, yes. Fine. Of course,” I said distractedly. Emma glanced sideways at him.

“What?”

“Nothing. I was distracted. By, um…the view. Out of the window. Isn’t it nice?” He gestured to the window that looked out over the pool. Lit with floodlights, the water blueish and inviting, it actually was nice. It was only after she frowned at me that I realized how stupid what I had said was. I hadn’t been facing the window when talking to her.

“I’ll get decent,” Emma said decidedly, then ducked inside.

I stood there with my teeth clenched while I thought about Emma dressing in the room beyond the firmly closed door. I thought about what her breasts must look like—full, but well shaped. I imagined her nipples to be reddish, her body gently curved and her skin pale under the harsh lights. I felt my dick harden and I wished she would come out of there. She had to put me out of my torture!

“I guess we should meet in my office, yes?” I said when she came out a few minutes afterward.

“Okay,” Emma agreed with a little frown.

A tingle spread up from my groin through my whole body. I was already aroused, and everything about her aroused me more. Something about the sway of her walk was so alluring that I wanted to reach out and draw her toward me. I sighed.

Come on. You can’t very well take her down there and seduce her.

I walked along the silent hallway, feet sinking into the satiny carpet. She followed. We reached the office.

“Here we are,” I said, seeming suddenly hesitant. “My private abode.”

Emma bit her lip. I wondered what she was thinking. She seemed nervous somehow. I sighed. I wished that I could do something to relieve her nervousness, but, then, I myself didn’t exactly feel confident, what with her so close and in my private space. I shouldn’t have taken her here…I should have spoken somewhere more neutral. But I had. I couldn’t very well change my mind now, not without looking really weird.

We faced each other over the achingly-neat desk, suddenly hesitant.

“I asked you here to…”

“I guess I should…”

We both spoke at once, then we both laughed.

“Sorry,” I began, recovering my equilibrium first. “I wanted to say sorry. For earlier. And to ask if we could reconsider. I want you to stay here.”

Emma stared at me. “Of course,” she said. “I mean, it’s not like we tore up the contract or anything…” she chuckled weakly, looking down at the desk.

“Emma.”

The way I said her name surprised even me. I cleared my throat, wanting to try again, less meaningfully, less gentle, but my mouth was dry. Emma looked up at me, eyes big and longing.

“What?” she asked gently.

“I…” I stopped. I didn’t know what to do from here. She was looking up at me, eyes big and wide and tender. My whole body was aching for her, to touch that smooth skin, to feel her lips part under my lips. She had such beautiful skin, as soft and pliable as petals, or so I was imagining at that moment. I faced her and leaned in toward her slowly.

I hope she doesn’t hate me.

I couldn’t help it, though. I had to kiss her. Had to try and if it didn’t happen now it was never going to happen. Her lips met mine. She did not flinch away.

I felt his loins ignite. Her mouth was soft, so much softer even than it looked. My lips were gentle and they nipped at hers, exploring hers carefully. She sighed and those sweet lips parted just a little, letting me in. It was a wonderful feeling, my tongue inside her mouth, on hers. Her mouth tasted minty and sweet and perfect. My tongue flickered over the moist patch I had left there on her lips, and, as she made a small noise, I slid inside for a second go. She let her own tongue slide along my own. She tasted like mint and something sweet and sinfully-nice. I felt my own body catch fire.

I broke the kiss and found myself feeling suddenly weak. I leaned on the desk, eyes closed, face before hers. This is the first time I have felt anything for anyone since Ada. Certainly nothing anywhere close to this.

But what did Emma think of me?

“Sorry,” I said, eyes still closed. When I opened them again, I wasn’t sure what she saw on my face, but she looked worried. Her brow raised and a little frown appeared there.

“Sorry?” she said softly. She didn’t seem to think I had anything to say sorry for, which was in itself a relief.

“I…it was wrong of me to…to do that,” I stuttered. “Not just because…” I left it there, then stood up straight again. I didn’t want to just say: “It was wrong of me because I employ you.” That wasn’t why it was wrong. What if she hadn’t wanted that kiss?

Shaking my head as if to clear it from sleep, I opened my eyes again. I looked at her. Emma stared back. Her hands reached for mine. I felt my breath catch in my throat. Any way she could have responded, I would have expected, I thought. But not this. I took her hand, squeezed it hard. Ada’s picture watched me from the shelf and the memory, of her and of what had happened to her, made me pause. I withdrew my hand.

“Mr. Carring?”

“Alexander,” I found myself saying automatically. Then I sighed. “Sorry. This is silly. It’s late. Forgive my…my lapse of manners. We are agreed you will stay the month. Yes? We will reassess then. Please forget what…we just did. I apologize for it.” I swallowed hard, wishing that I didn’t have to say that, but knowing I did. For her sake, even more so than for mine. I felt my jaw clench as if reluctant to get out the words.

Emma stared at me. His accent was brittle, and, as I noticed, at its most perfect. I tend not to sound overtly British unless I am at a tense business meeting or I feel pressured. Now I must have felt really, really stressed.

“I understand, Mr. Carring,” she said softly.

I closed my eyes. Now I hurt her. Chased her away. At least, she would think me crazy, or slightly odd. At worst, she would hate me. But I could bear it. It was better if she thought that I was horrible than that she was really to get involved with me. Better for her. Better for me too and in the far-distant future I would probably be aware of that. I just wasn’t now. I decided to keep up the hateful character a while as it seemed like the best way to solve this particular problem.

“Now go,” I said hoarsely. “It’s late and I need to catch up with work.”

Emma nodded and, silent, she stood, walking across the carpet, her high-heeled shoes leaving a soft trace in the rich, soft pile of it. She stopped at the door.

I had not moved. I was staring straight ahead, looking through her. Emma reached for the door handle and very quietly opened and shut it behind her.

As she closed it, leaving me alone in the office, I sighed and collapsed back onto the chair.

“Ada, forgive me.”

I closed his eyes, letting the traces of the lust that had risen so suddenly, slowly dissipate. I knew that my body longed for the sweet curves and scented skin of this lovely woman. But my heart was not mine. Ada had taken that with her, when she left me. I should remember that. I had to remember that, and all it meant.

Ada.

Her picture regarded me from the shelf and I recalled the torment of losing her, the pain that wounded his heart and wounded it, every day. I could not afford to forget what happened, to forget my rage, my sense of blame and guilt. I would not let that happen to anyone again. Not now.

“Ada,” I whispered. Help me.

Miss Blunt was right. I had hurt my children, making them lose their already-tentative trust in me. What if they never regained that trust? What if they learned to fear, and then to hate. Ada would not have wished for that.

But I only want to protect them. I want to keep them safe from all harm. I could not bear to lose them.

I sighed. I ran a weary hand down my face, letting my nerves settle. I looked at the clock. It was late. I really should finish my correspondences now and then go to bed. I had been moving all day, after all. Maybe that was what had happened to me, at least in part. Had made me lose my mind as I had tone about her today.

It’s my mind; it’s playing tricks.

I sighed and, opening up my sheaf of correspondences, settling down to work.

Chapter 5

Emma

“Run, run!”

“You can’t catch me…I’m a gingerbread man!”

Two childish voices arced up through the still air as I sat on the lawn, watching Jack race Cammi across the grass. The evening smelled of dew and dust and the shadows stretched away from them, caressing the velvety grasses around their feet.

“Enough!” I laughed, as the two children collapsed in a panting, tired heap. “That was a tie! For certain.”

“Told you,” Cammi said smugly, wriggling up onto her elbows and pulling a tongue at Jack. Jack grinned and dusted off his knees.

“Cars are still faster,” Jack said, sounding matter-of-fact.

I laughed. The memory of the other night still tormented me with its sweetness, its utter confusion. Alexander Carring had kissed me. His kiss had melted my body like no other kiss had, leaving me wanting him and leaving me with more questions.

“Emma! I’m tired.” Cammi’s voice broke through my reverie.

“Come and sit here, then,” I said. I indicated the thick, soft grass beside me. The whole garden was beautiful and I was glad the weather was so good, allowing us to spend whole mornings outdoors.

The children came to sit beside me. Cammi leaned against my leg where I sat with my fingers looped around a knee. Jack sat in front of me and I rested a hand on his shoulder, gently. He leaned back and the three of us shared a moment of still happiness. It was wonderful to sense their trust, their sense of ease with me and mine with them.

“Tell us a story,” Jack asked quietly.

“Yes!” Cammi exploded, jumping up instantly. “One with fairies. Please, Emma?”

I grinned. The last week had seen me telling several stories, all woven from my wildest imaginings and remembered tales of my childhood. They seemed to amuse the kids, and they helped me, as well. At least if she let my imagination run freely, I didn’t have time to think about Alexander. Or that kiss. Or Ada.

“Okay, okay,” I agreed, still chuckling softly. “And I promise it won’t just be about fairies,” I added to Jack, grinning, seeing his crestfallen expression cross his face.

“Okay.”

I cleared my throat. “A long time ago, in a forest, was a clearing not unlike this one. And in this clearing lived a big troll.”

“No! Not a troll,” Cammi protested, dropping the stalks of grass she was playing with. “A fairy. You promised.”

“She’s going to be part of the story in a minute. Bear with me. This wasn’t just any troll. This was an enchanted one. Really, inside, he was a handsome prince. Just waiting to come out.”

As I told the story, I realized, with some surprise, that it was about Alex. He was the troll. Yes, he might have been beautiful both inside and out—I had to admit that to myself. But he did his best to be scary and to drive people away. The fairy, who tried to make him see his good side, and loved him despite his forbidding exterior was…is it me?

I laughed at it, the thought breaking the thread of my concentration, and the thrust of the story.

“What?” Jack asked, squinting up at her where he lay on his back in the late-afternoon rays, playing with grass stalks.

“Nothing,” I said, suddenly flustered. “I just had a funny thought…”

“She was having a funny thought about the troll,” a deep, resonant British voice explained, matter of fact, somewhere in the trees behind. “And about what he might drive, if he happened to have a car.”

I whipped round. I know that voice. I had heard it every night in my dreams since I met him.

Alex was there, dressed in a tweed jacket and Levi’s, looking more debonair than I had ever seen him. The jeans were tight and fitted perfectly over his muscled form, the tweed jacket bringing out his dark eyes. I swallowed and looked up at his face, noticing with some surprise that he was smiling.

“Hello,” he said. “Sorry for sneaking up like that. I was just passing on my way to the garage, and I wanted to ask you, all of you”—he added, looking from me to his small son and daughter who looked up at him with loving eyes—“if you would like to join me in the car for a ride.”

I wet my lips, my mouth suddenly dry. “A ride?”

“I have recently had some repairs made to a vehicle of mine. A certain MG…”

He had not finished the sentence before Jack jumped, face suffused with awe. “Not the MG convertible?”

“Yes, son. That’s correct.” Alexander was laughing as he ruffled the child’s hair. Cammi was looking from her father to her older brother with a delighted half-smile on her face. Not wanting to be excluded from the general love, she ran forward and hugged his knees.

“Daddy! Can I sit on your knee while we’re driving?” she asked.

I laughed, then felt a tenderness fill me as Alexander slowly bent his knee and looked into the little girl’s eyes.

“Of course,” he said softly. “But only on the country roads. On the big road, it’s safer if you sit behind me. You can help me, too…keeping a lookout for trolls. Or is that traffic policemen? I forget the differences.”

I, and the children, all laughed. I stood as the children cannoned off, evidently knowing the route to the garage very well. I looked up at Alexander, suddenly alone with him for the first time since that night. Having him so close was intense. I cleared my throat and looked away, suddenly feeling a torrent of emotions flood through me. One of them was profound nervousness.

“Well,” he said, sighing. “That seems to have cheered that lot up.”

I gave a soft chuckle. “Yes.”

I stood there a little awkwardly. The breeze ruffled the leaves overhead. Neither he nor I spoke. Watching the children running around in the garden, their whoops of joy breaking the evening quiet, I turned away.

“Emma,” he said after a moment.

I swallowed. It was the first time he had used my name, not just “Miss Blunt”. His lips made it a touch, almost as if those long fingers reached out and took my hand in his.

“Yes?” I asked. My voice came out hoarse and I cleared my throat. I looked up at him and saw a tenderness in his eyes that made my heart thud.

“Thank you.”

I stared. “Thank me? Whatever for?”

“For making me see what a tyrant I was being. I can’t believe it now. For giving me a chance to rebuild things with my kids.” He sighed.

I chuckled and felt my heart reach out to him. “They sure do love you. Kids are very forgiving you know.”

“I noticed.” Alexander chuckled, the sound tinged with self-mockery. I bit my lip, hearing it.

“Whatever you did, you had your reasons,” I said quietly. We were walking behind them now, slowly, while they played tag up ahead on the lawn, racing each other along. “If the kids can forgive you, if you fix it now, that’s all that matters.”

Alexander looked into my eyes. “Truly?”

“Yes.”

He was an arm’s length from me. The breeze ruffled my hair and there was no other sound except its soft whispering rustles in the leaves. The only thing in the clearing was him. He reached out and laid a hand on my shoulder. I stood very still. My heart thumped, and my whole body shivered. The touch of his fingers was soft, hesitant. A gentle foray into what might be forbidden territory. I half-lifted her hand to rest it on his, then let my arm drop.

“What?”

I shrugged. He removed his hand and I missed it instantly.

“Nothing,” I said, shakily. The loss of touch was like a physical blow. It had felt so right, to stand with his hand on my shoulder, the sunset making patterns of their shadows. “Where are the kids?”

He laughed. “Quite.”

Together we watched as the two children ran down the long green lawns into the sunset. It felt strange. Like I knew him for years. Like it was so natural to walk here, slower, while the children played about on the path ahead, their laughs soft and high in the evening air.

“Whoa!” Alexander said, raising his hands in mock-surrender as two small bodies hurtled down the drive at him. He was laughing. On the edge of the scene, I was surprised to feel tears prick at her eyes as I watched him reach down and lift Cammi, ruffling Jack’s hair.

“Here we go!” he said, pressing the knob to open the door. I walked forward a pace while the children sucked in their breaths with excitement. I didn’t want to intrude on this special moment between them, and yet it seemed I had been invited to, that I was welcome here in this space with the three of them. I stared at the thing he had to show us. The children stared too.

It was an MG. A beautiful, shiny, vintage thing of beauty and fineness that spoke of style. I sucked in my own breath, feeling a thrill of delight.

“Okay!” Alex said, gesturing to the wide garage-doors. “I’ll bring it out, then we all pile in. Okay?”

“Woohoo!”

“Yay!”

I smiled as the children hopped about, hugging themselves with excitement. Alex grinned, a sudden flash of happiness. My heart soared with the sweetness of it. I smiled back and his gaze held mine. The children went quiet, and Alex cleared his throat. He drew his eyes away from mine and to the children, shaking his head a little.

“Okay, gang,” he said happily. “Here goes…”

He slid nimbly into the seat and drove the car out, greeted by a wave of requests.

“I want to sit in the back, behind Daddy. That’s my place. Remember?” Cammi protested.

“Who’s going in the front seat?” Jack asked.

Alex alighted and walked round to the door. He opened it.

“Emma?”

I swallowed hard. He was holding the door open for me.

“Are you sure?”

He laughed. “Sure I am.”

He smiled and I smiled back, feeling my stomach flip. I slid into the seat, wincing as I did it less elegantly than she would have liked. He grinned at me, eyes sparkling, as if he shared my thoughts and thought they were funny. Then he opened the rear door.

“Everybody in!”

The kids clambered in. Alex grinned at me where he stood outside, waiting for them to settle themselves down before he shut the door. He looked happier than ever. He slid into the seat beside me. I held my breath. Sitting next to him made me feel strangely shy. Why is it that one’s skin suddenly gets so sensitive, as if it would sense out every breath of someone, shiver at their slightest glance?

I stopped thinking about it and looked out of the window. Then he flicked the switch for the front gate and backed up slowly. The road behind, a wide, almost-deserted road through leafy countryside, appeared slowly from behind the wall as we reversed through the gate.

“Whee!”

Jack was laughing as the wind caught his hair. Cammi was squealing with excitement. Alex was grinning. My hair was already catching the wind. Left loose about my shoulders, it billowed around by my face, whipping into my eyes. I gave a little chuckle and smiled at Alex. He grinned back.

“Okay, let’s really go!”

He put his foot on the gas and lurched forward, until we were bowling along at ninety. The kids were screeching and giggling, and I found it hard to breathe.

“Fun, isn’t it?” he asked, grinning across at me. It was such a sweet, boyish grin that it took years off his face. I had no idea how old he was, but just then he was a teenager, showing off.

“Windy!” I replied, and it was: my hair was everywhere…in my eyes, my mouth, whipping back from my head and promising to be a mass of tangles later in the evening.

He laughed. “You can say that again!”

I chuckled. “Windy!” I said again.

Behind me, the children were laughing and shrieking. I felt my own heart beating. I looked across at the man beside me, noting his strong hands on the steering-wheel. They were thickly-muscled and veined, as if he spent some of his free time climbing in the hills.

We slowed down after a moment. It was possible to look out of the window and see the countryside as it slid silently past.

“Lovely trees, aren’t they?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said in agreement. They were. I leaned back and let myself enjoy the scenery—tall, green trees, white, pale sky just settling into the pale orange and gold of sunset. I was deeply aware of the man in the seat beside me and his every gesture, from the way he gripped the wheel to the way he stroked a hand across his temple, flattening his own wild-ruffled hair.

Jack and Cammi were playing some complicated game involving the number of yellow cars they spotted, their voices shrill in the back. Here, in the front of the car, Alex was strangely silent. The sun was setting, the trees long-shadowed.

Alex drove us onward until, after a time difficult to measure, we arrived at the bank of a small river. Cool shade surrounded us. The water danced under the light.

“Here we are,” Alex said, smiling. “Okay, kids! Who wants to run around?”

“Me!” Cammi shouted.

“Whee!”

The children vaulted out, giggling excitedly, as he opened the door, letting them out onto the cool green grass. They rushed off toward the water’s edge, leaving Alex and I surrounded by a bubble of silence.

“It’s beautiful here.”

“I thought you’d like it,” Alexander said, with a gentle smile.

I swallowed hard. He thought I’d like it? He actually cared about what I thought? My heart thumped. I smiled nervously back, feeling my throat suddenly stiff with shy pleasure.

“The sunset over the river is…moving,” Alexander said, indicating the distant orange glow where it shone on the water, turning all of it to radiant, polished metal.

“It is,” I agreed quietly.

Together, with the water lapping at the bank before us, we stood and watched the sunset. Alexander moved closer. When his hand brushed my own my heart stopped. Slowly, gently, his fingers curled around so that they held mine.

When his hand was over mine, I thought I would stop breathing, but I didn’t. Instead, I carefully clasped his own. His fingers were strong and warm and the skin was soft, which was unexpected and deeply arousing. I held his hand and, together, alone in the silence, we watched the light on the river.

“It is nice here, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” I said.

“I used to bring the kids here often. Good place to let them run and work off some energy. There’s nothing for them to run into or break here,” he said with a huff of laughter.

“You mean like the lawn?” I asked archly. I regretted the words the moment I had said them.

“Yes,” he said. “Like that. Emma,”

“What?” I asked.

“I didn’t know what I was doing. You do understand. Don’t you? I didn’t mean to be a…a tyrant with them.” His eyes were beseeching and I wished I knew what to say to answer his desperate need to be assuaged and reassured.

I sighed. “You were doing your best, Alexander.”

It was, I think, the first time I used his name. He started, as if I had slapped him. We stared at each other and he smiled.

“Really?”

“Yes.” I swallowed hard, brushing a stray hair off my brow to compose myself. “I know you love them. I can see it. They know it too. Though I think little things like this really help,” I added, looking toward the water, where Jack was reaching in and Cammi stood on the bank beside him, shouting excitedly.

“I hope so,” he added. He, too, was watching the children. While they stood there, his arm strayed, coming to rest with his hand on my shoulder.

Oh, my word.

My heart was pounding, and yet I felt as if my whole world had just stopped, standing still somehow, the sunset a painting before my eyes while the only reality was between us, his touch on my arm, his voice in my ear. It felt as if we had stood thus forever. I thought it was a foolish thought. But it felt real. It felt right.

“Alexander.”

“What?” he asked, turning, one dark brow raised in questioning.

I giggled, and looked at my feet. I hadn’t really wanted to say anything, just to say his name. It felt nice. I hadn’t realized I had spoken it aloud. “Sorry. Nothing.”

“Tell me.” He squinted at me, wanting to tease me into telling whatever it was I was thinking of.

“No, really,” I insisted. “It was nothing.”

“Well then,” he said very softly.

With that, he leaned forward. His lips met mine.

If heaven had a taste, it was there. And if I could choose to feel anything in my life every day from this moment until I died, it would be the feel of his lips sliding, tentative and exploratory, over mine.

When the children came running up from the water, shouting excitedly and waving the stick they had salvaged, I was standing decorously beside Alexander. One would have had to look carefully to see the trail of moisture on his lip, the bruising on my own. But it was there.

Fortunately, the children didn’t look too closely. But he did. When we all turned to walk back to the car, the children following his easy gesture with the keys, he lifted his hand and carefully traced my lip with his thumb. I kissed it. He smiled.

Feeling as if I had entered paradise, I walked with him to the car. Later, I would wonder about this. Later, I was sure, I would regret it. I would question what he was thinking, and question what I was thinking, and doubt the wonder that I felt and doubt his sincerity. Now, just now, with the light gilding the road before us, the wind soft in the leaves, life was perfect and I would do nothing to question it.

Chapter 6

Emma

I woke up the next morning with my head in the clouds, feeling on top of the world. I had dreamed strange, distant dreams that left me smiling. My stomach was full of fluttering. I rolled out of bed and walked across the soft carpet to draw the curtains.

Alex.

I could not forget yesterday, his words. His kiss. I wished I could understand what went on in his head, what made him act the way he did with me the one moment, the change everything the next.

He was so cold the other day, sending me out of his office, even though I knew he wanted to kiss me as much as I wanted him to. And then, the next day, he made a special outing and included me? Stood with me, as if we had known each other for lifetimes. Asked my help.

What is this all about?

As I washed my hair in the shower, loving the scent of the shower-gel I had found in here when I arrived, I tried to understand. Of all the scenarios that marched resolutely through my mind, the only one I refused to consider was that Alexander Carring might have feelings for me. It made absolutely no sense.

He’s a billionaire, for pity’s sake. He could have any stunning starlet he wanted. He’s not going to go falling for some sassy-mouthed nanny because she bosses him around.

I knew I was probably being unfair to myself, but then, I was trying to be realistic. Surely it was just true that he wouldn’t think of me like that? I wasn’t exactly stunning and, in my own mind, I had little else to recommend me.

I sighed, rolling my shoulders as the warm water soothed the tension. Stepping somewhat-reluctantly out of the floral steam, I walked across the smooth tiles and into the bedroom again. I had moved my things into the elegant wardrobe two days after I arrived, and I surveyed them carefully.

When I found myself with two shirts, hesitating over which one—the brown or the red—best brought out the hazel of my eyes, I stopped.

Emma? This is crazy.

I threw both shirts on the bed, reaching for my most-horrid one and pulled it resolutely on, letting my hair untangle down my back.

“You’re behaving like a teen girl,” I told myself harshly, glaring at my reflection. She glared back, hands on hips, but somehow she didn’t seem too embarrassed about that. I sighed.

Assuming that the impossible were true, that Alexander Carring might actually like me, then what? Would I really want to be involved with such a man? Face the media storms, the premieres, the events he had to attend? I was frumpy, inelegant, irredeemable. I wasn’t the sort of woman who could do that. And would I want to walk into his life?

Emma, you don’t even know who his wife is.

It was true. I sighed, sinking into a seat. I looked at the clock, checking the time, then closed my eyes. It was eight o’clock. Still a while until the kids appeared for breakfast. I had time to think. Except that, suddenly, I didn’t want to. Didn’t want to face the idea he might have a wife.

“Of course he does, Emma!”

Well. He must have done, or who was the mother? And who, for that matter, was in the set of framed portraits in his office?

He was probably divorced, in which case there would be the ex to deal with and the children having to see her every other week—well, they hadn’t yet, but this was his holiday, which was presumably why he hired me—and having to know he still loved her.

I shook my head, wondering at my stupidity. Of course he still loved her. Why would that bother me? If he loved me too, that would be enough.

I laughed, standing up and walking to the window. Outside, the trees rustled in the wind. If Alexander Carring truly loved me, I thought, hugging myself and feeling a deep, happy warmth fill me, then I wouldn’t mind if he loved every woman in creation. As long as he loved me too. That would be enough.

I recalled the way his lips drifted over my own, the feel of his hand in mine. The way his eyes sometimes gazed into mine, as though we shared everything, knew each other. It would be enough.

I let the happy giggle that had been building up in me rise to the surface and, still smiling, I fell backward onto the soft, springy mattress.

Lying there for a few moments, I allowed my imagination free rein on the topic Alexander and imagining him with me here, now, while I kissed him and gave him my all.

Then I turned to the bitter alternatives that faced me here, now, in the all-too-real present.

“You should leave.”

I stood up, feeling as if summer had fled, freezing me. I could not even consider doing it. It was, however, the right thing to do. I was sure of it.

If I stay, it will make things harder for him as well.

I did not allow myself to believe he cared, but I could accept that maybe he relied on me. He had changed so much in the last week, his parenting improving. What if he was only managing because I was here? Wouldn’t it be better to leave him now, while he could still forge his own relationship with the two children alone?

And what about them? They liked me and I would have to leave in three weeks’ time anyway. I should make the cut now, while it would still be easy.

I brushed my hair off my face, wincing as I noticed its wildness in the mirror.

One thing is sure, Emma, I told my reflection severely as I finished my makeup, you will never make a billionaire wife.

I was inelegant, totally awkward. I was not the smooth, seductive, elegant lady he needed.

He could have so much better. And he might do. I couldn’t forget that he did have a wife. She was a glamor girl and I was a frump. It would be so much better for him if he at least found someone like her. Someone not like me.

I went down the hallway to the dining-room and was crossing the threshold, tucking hair behind my ears, when my thoughts were shattered by a sudden shout.

“Emma!”

It was Cammi. I ran in, heart thudding, legs pounding, to find her sitting innocently on the chair, smiling up at me with a guileless smile.

“Cammi!” I blurted. “What in Heaven’s name was that?”

“Told you I could fetch her,” Cammi said smugly. Jack grinned.

“Sorry, Emma,” he explained. “Didn’t mean to frighten you.”

My hand on my chest, stilling my beating heart, I collapsed beside her. For two people who didn’t mean to frighten me, they sure did a great job. Naturals, apparently. I chuckled weakly, still catching my breath after my heroic run to the chair. Both kids were looking at me expectantly. I blinked, then sat up straight.

“Okay,” I said quietly. “What’s up?”

Jack looked as though he was about to burst with anticipation. Cammi drew a deep breath, clearly the chosen spokesperson.

“We saw Daddy at breakfast,” she began slowly. “An’ he looked very happy. And we saw you yesterday, and Daddy, kissing under the trees.” She looked down when she said it, seeming shy. Then she smiled up at me, a gap-toothed grin.

My hand flew to my face. The surprise made my cheeks warm. Had they seen? The thought was wonderfully shocking. That kiss had not been suitable for children. And the little minxes! Had they been hiding behind the trees, watching their father and I as we…as we…

“You two!” I blurted, suddenly laughing, my cheeks flaming red. “What were you doing, spying?”

Jack giggled and Cammi blushed. I guessed it had been his idea. Jack cleared his throat, looking suddenly solemn.

“What we wanted to ask you, Emma, is if Daddy is going to get married again. If you and Daddy…” he trailed off, looking at his hands. “If you…”

I stared at him. Married? To their daddy? To Alexander…

I stopped the train of thought, unable to even consider it. My heart thudded with the delicious possibility. What were they thinking? We had known each other for almost a week now, a little longer. Why would they assume that I…that he…that we would do that?

“Kids?” I said, feeling suddenly weak. “Where did you, get that idea from?”

Cammi looked at me, suddenly shy. “We just thought that…I mean, we’ve never see Daddy do, you know, grownup things, with anyone. Not since Mommy…” she trailed off with a shy smile at me.

I couldn’t help the flush of happiness that flowed through me. Alexander had kissed me in front of the kids, and he had really never done that before? With anyone? My cheeks were flushed, but this time with happiness, not shock.

“Well, I don’t know, kids,” I said after a long moment, during which I let the wonderful possibility of Alexander being interested in me, really, as a person, play around my head. I imagined for a few brief moments what it would be like if they were right. If we were married, and we were sharing a bed. My body had wanted his from the moment I saw him, I realized now. I imagined him as the lover I had longed for, and myself, lying below him.

My happiness was not that long-lived. Two solemn faces looked up at me, eyes round with expectation. They were looking at me as if I had just magically solved all their problems and it was a huge amount of pressure. Pressure I couldn’t, in the real world, actually redress. I knew that. I just had to tell them now.

“Kids,” I said, feeling suddenly weary. I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes. “I really, really, really like you. And your daddy. Really. But I don’t think I’m…I just don’t think that’s going to happen. Okay? I’m sorry. I really am. But not possible. Okay?”

The expressions on their faces told me it was not okay at all. Jack looked up at me with big sad eyes. Cammi looked away, suddenly confused.

“But Emma…” she protested, lip wobbling and blue eyes cloudy with sudden tears.

“You don’t think that maybe…” Jack began, “that you could make it happen? I mean, we haven’t seen Daddy so happy for years, and…”

I stared at him. They wanted me to somehow force marriage with a reluctant, reclusive billionaire? Really? They wanted me to make their lives happier? They were seeing me as some kind of cure-all. There was no way, seeing as I was only going to be in their lives for about a month, that they should be seeing me like that. It meant that they were going to feel betrayed when I left, that they would feel like I let them down. I had, in short, broken the first rule of kid-support, my first rule: don’t make them rely on you.

“Okay,” I sighed, half-standing. My head was spinning and I suddenly couldn’t think straight, so I sat back down. “I think there’s something I need to say,” I began as they looked at me expectantly. “Marriage has to come from both sides. And, because of a thing called culturally-ingrained sexism, which I won’t discuss now, the man is the one who asks for there to be a marriage. So, you see, I can’t make your daddy marry me. Or anyone else. I just can’t.”

“But why?”

Cammi sounded truly upset. She came and leaned on me and I wrapped an arm around her, feeling a sudden chill in my heart. I couldn’t stay here. I just couldn’t. With the kids, seeing some future based on me—a future I would never be able to give them—and Alex, with his switching his temperament between affectionate and cold, I was hopelessly confused. I screwed up.

That was all I could think of just then. How canonically and entirely I had screwed up. I should never have interfered. So what if Alexander Carring was a cold, miserable father? That was his problem, not mine. My job was simply to supervise the kids, make sure nothing happened to them in his absence. Not to try and be their mother. Or to seduce Alex.

I sniffed, feeling a tear prick at the edge of my eyelid. I would start crying now, and really confuse the poor kids. I looked at the ceiling, willing myself to become more cheerful. What the heck was my problem?

“Emma?” Jack asked quietly.

“Yes?”

“We know you’re only here for a month. Father explained that,” he said carefully. I nodded, impressed by his maturity. He was only nine, and yet he had guessed at least part of my concern. I inclined my head to him, inviting him to continue.

“Yes?”

“Well, we know you’re not here for long. So we were thinking maybe we could help? Like, do something to make things simpler? Father might listen to us?”

What? I felt broadsided for the second time. Did they mean they were planning to persuade their father to marry me?

“Jack, no,” I said. My voice was level and soft. I had to appreciate the sentiment of what he had said: Effectively, they were inviting me into their family. I couldn’t possibly be cross.

His face fell and I reached out, laying my hand on his shoulder. “Jack, look at me.”

He looked at me. His hazel eyes were dry, but very solemn. They regarded me with the beginnings of uncertainty. Soon, he would learn to mistrust me. Good, I thought harshly. Better that than betray him later.

“Yes?” he asked tentatively.

“Jack, I appreciate that. What you and Cammi has said has really touched me.” Dammit, was I crying? I smoothed over a tear with my fingers and started again. “But truly, no. If you did, that would make everything harder. It would make everything worse. Trust me. Your daddy doesn’t want to marry me and I wouldn’t make him happy. I promise.”

“Really?” Cammi was looking at me with extreme doubt.

I sighed and nodded. “Truly. I promise.”

Jack didn’t comment for a long while. At length, all he said was, “Okay.”

I sighed out a long breath. “Guys,” I said after a while, “I really love you both for thinking of me like that. I really do. But it can’t happen. Can we just have breakfast now?”

Jack looked down, but whispered a soft agreement. Cammi sat down next to me, giving me a sharp-eyed glance.

“Yes,” she said, as Jack settled into the chair opposite her slowly. “But only if you tell us a story.”

I smiled, chuckling under my breath. “Okay.”

I told a story and we finished our meal. I had little appetite and less imagination that morning, but I did my best. We sat there in a sort of cloud of shared melancholy. Even the sky outside looked somber and scared.

After breakfast, the kids went out to play. I followed, taking a book to read. The day passed until lunchtime in a sort of haze and I was pleased when lessons followed, it being a Thursday. When the night finally arrived, I fled up to my room and packed. I would be leaving the day after tomorrow. I had decided.

Chapter 7

Alex

I came home from work around seven pm. And when I did, it was quite surprising. That was because I walked into a silent house. It was a surprising change, even though it had been more or less normal until this.

Where are the kids? Where’s Emma?

Even during the brief week that she had been here, I had become accustomed to arriving late from work to a house of raucous laughter and fun, with Emma playing upstairs with the children, making them shriek with giggles. Their bedtime was at seven, but I usually caught the tail-end of their fun and games, the sounds echoing through the house as she played with them before she took them to their rooms and supervised bedtime and sleeping.

I really liked that. I wonder where they’ve got to?

I walked through to my office and put the bags down, then I flipped open my notebook and tried to work. I stayed there for about two minutes just scanning my mail. Then I couldn’t stand not knowing anymore.

It was seven o’clock at night, and I had to find out what was going on. I felt worried, with Emma not being there, with no noise. It was unnatural.

I felt myself hurry through the hallways, heading for the stairs. The playroom, which had been until recently the site of their revels, was clean, shiny. Entirely devoid of life. Where were they? Heart thumping, I felt a wave of panic course through me. I knew I was probably being stupid, but I couldn’t help it. It seemed so sinister, so wrong. I closed the door, feeling a pang of sadness. I didn’t realize until now how I had come to enjoy and expect the flushed, happy faces and the childish laughter.

I was also starting to get worried.

I walked briskly along the hallway, pausing outside Cammi’s door. I heard nothing. I opened it a crack, but all but the pink lamp on the dressing-table was off. I peered in, nervous to switch on the light in case I woke her, but I had to know. Where was she? I switched on the light. There was no one in the bedroom. I shut the door as quietly as I could. I was walking up to Jack’s room, really scared then, when he heard the sound of running feet. It sounded like children running, which was a relief. Still, I grabbed the handle, opening it with some force. Inside, I saw Jack sitting in bed, gazing at me. His eyes were round and he looked about as scared as I felt.

“Son?” I asked quietly. Jack said nothing, but he was looking away from his father, across the room. Following his gaze to the wardrobe, I saw Cammi emerge from the door.

She froze when she saw me and Jack cleared his throat. “I can explain,” he said.

I suddenly wanted to laugh. They sounded so deadly-earnest. Like they had been caught in some terrible crime. A week ago, I noted with some amazement, and some shame, I would have acted as if they had been. Not sticking to bedtimes would probably be the worst thing I could imagine, the worst act of disobedience and disrespect. Now, I just thought it was funny.

“Go ahead,” I said to my son, keeping my voice neutral. Probably better if he didn’t know just how funny I thought it was.

Jack cleared his throat. “Cammi couldn’t sleep. She was having nightmares.”

“Oh?” I was surprised. Not only because I was fairly sure the kids had only just gone to bed but because I had never known Cammi had nightmares. Heck. How bad a father was I?

Of course she does, Alexander. You’re not the only one who lost someone four years ago.

I felt fresh shame that I had not thought of it before now. Wondered how much the kids had kept secret from me, how much I had failed to help them when they needed me so badly. I had shut myself in with my own grief and it had been wrong.

“Yes,” Jack said, finishing somewhat-lamely. “She does.” Cammi, not to be outdone, crawled out of the cupboard and ran to me.

“Yes, Daddy! Horrible big bad-dreams, about things with teeth…”

“Okay, okay!” I said, laughing as he bent to embrace her, then lifted her up. “Come on, then.” I turned to Jack, who was watching his sister and I from the bed. “You okay to go to sleep now?”

“Yes,” Jack said levelly.

I nodded, noticing, perhaps for the first time, how quickly my own son was maturing. Nine years old, going on thirty-five, he thought wryly.

“Okay,” I sighed. “Then I’ll just go and put Cammi in bed and go downstairs. Nighty.”

“Night, Dad.”

Grunting as I hefted Cammi up to ride on my shoulder, something that I hadn’t done in years, I went through the hallway and the pink room.

When Cammi was settled, I went to my office. I closed the door, looking at the ceiling as I leaned back on the headrest. The one place I hadn’t been to yet was Emma’s room. It was very unlike her to just put the children to bed. Sometimes when I was here earlier from work I heard her telling them a bedtime story. I hope there was nothing bothering her.

Emma. I felt my body tense at the thought of her. The ride in the car the other day had been…special. I had tried to date after Ada, but had never met anyone who had felt special, like she had.

I wanted to spend time with her. Wanted to talk to her, to find out her little secrets, and tell her my own stories. My story. I wanted to kiss her.

Wanted more than just to kiss her. I wanted, if I was honest with myself, to peel back the shirt she wore and kiss those firm, hard nipples. I wanted to touch them.

Someone knocked on the door. Feeling irritated at having my reverie disrupted, I called out a little sharply.

“Hello?”

The door opened and Emma came in.

Oh my. The heat of my body rose to flush my cheeks. The fact that she had appeared like that, just as I was dreaming about her, feeling the beginnings of arousal for her, was both awkward and lovely.

“Yes?” I asked.

I looked at her where she stood. Her body was firm and hard under her shirt, her jeans tight over her form. Her butt was pert and rounded, her legs long. Her lips were damp and I wanted in that moment, more than anything, to kiss her. To do everything else too. But at least to kiss her first.

“Sorry for disturbing you, Mr. Carring,” Emma began quietly.

“Alexander,” I corrected woodenly. “Why the formality?” I felt stung.

Emma sighed. “Mr. Carring, I…I wanted to tell you. I’m leaving.”

I stared at her. Panic shot through me first, surprising me. It was turned, almost instantly, to confrontation.

“What?” I stood up, faster than I should have done. My head throbbed. “Emma! You can’t! Have you forgotten our contract? Have you…how dare you?”

Emma took a step back. She was looking at me with frightened eyes and I instantly regretted his harsh words. If I wanted to keep her that was clearly not how. “Sir, I…” she started.

“Use my name like you have done for days. And you can’t just…I’m sorry,” I finished lamely, seeing her back away. “I’m overreacting badly.” I sighed, subsiding into my leather seat. I waved her to the seat before the desk. “I’m sorry.”

Walking hesitantly over the carpet, she took it.

“Alexander,” she said. The way she said my name sent tingles down his spine. It made me want to grab her and cover her with kisses.

“Yes?”

She leaned forward, resting her elbows heavily on the desk in front of her. She didn’t say anything for a while. Her hands were in her hair, gripping the blond roots. Her eyes were downcast.

“Tell me.”

“I have to go.”

Her gaze met mine, her hazel eyes looking deep into my dark ones. Wordlessly, I slid my hands across the polished wood of my foolishly-expensive desk, reaching for hers. She let me take them and I held them, feeling the cold flesh against my own warm fingers.

“Why?” I sounded desperate. Even I noticed that. But I had to ask.

“Because,” she said, then sighed, clearly frustrated. “It’s the kids. Can’t you see? They…like me too much.”

She looked genuinely distressed. I burst out laughing.

“Emma, forgive me,” I said between chuckles. “But I really don’t see how that is a reason for leaving. If they didn’t like you at all, then maybe there would be grounds. But they adore you. You have to stay. I’m asking you to stay.”

Emma stared at me. Something in her eyes changed from sadness to a kind of cold resolve.

“You’re asking?” she said, and there was an edge of scorn to the words.

“Yes,” I said, feeling confused. Why had she suddenly changed so much, so quickly? What had I done wrong?

Emma leaned back, removing her hands from my grasp. I let her. I had no idea at all what was going on. “You think you can ask me to stay. Have you absolutely no idea what you are doing to me?” She sounded furious.

She tried to stand, but I stood too.

“Emma, please.”

“No! No please!” she was shouting now, her hair whipping about her face as she made a gesture to her side, vehement and angry. She had stood and she was halfway to the door, addressing me from there, eyes flashing. “You think you can confuse me, treat me two different ways on two different days, when it suits you. You think you can keep me guessing, play with me, when all the while you love someone else?”

I felt as if he had just walked into a sheet of glass I hadn’t known was there. I staggered, and sat down, holding the table.

“Love someone else? Emma? What are you talking about?”

To my surprise, all the anger seemed to drain out of Emma. She sat down on a chair by the door, shoulders shaking. I realized, with some alarm, that she cried.

“Emma?”

“I’m…I’m sorry,” she said between gasps. “Now I really do have to leave!” she chuckled, but it was somehow a sad sound. “Now I’ve told you and…and now I really have screwed up.”

“Emma!” I found myself laughing, feeling strangely lighthearted. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She stared at me. “You mean…you mean you don’t mind if some crazy woman bursts in on you and confesses that she’s falling for you?”

I stared. “You what?”

She flushed pink. It was spectacular. I grinned at her. She shook her head vigorously.

“Oh, now look what I’ve gone and said,” she said, looking everywhere except at me. She shook her head, hands twisting the skirt she wore. Her long hair bounced on her shoulders.

“What?” I asked, more gently this time.

She still would not meet my gaze. “I…How could I have said that?”

“What?” I asked gently. I knew, but a little part of me—a naughty part—wanted to hear her say it again.

She looked up at me. Those beautiful eyes met mine. She didn’t say it—then again, she didn’t need to. The love was written in her eyes.

I looked into hers, and my heart started to beat faster. I moved closer and, keeping her gaze, sat down on the low table so that I could look into her eyes.

“You don’t need to feel bad about saying that,” I said gently. “I feel the same way.”

“Oh…” Emma’s hand flew to her cheek. She looked confused, then delighted. That did it. I leaned forward and, gently, kissed her lips.

She made a little sighing sound and leaned against me. I felt my loins tense and I breathed in, letting the scent of her wash over me. She smelled of flowers and freshness and I felt my heart thumping as I held her against me. I had slid off the table now and half-knelt before her.

We broke the kiss, and I looked into her eyes. I reached up and stroked her soft, shiny hair. It was something I had wanted to do for ages. She smiled, and I had to kiss her again.

Her lips parted sweetly under my tongue, their moist warmth closing around me. I was in heaven, my tongue sliding and gliding over hers. My heart pounded, and I had never felt such a tenderness, such a depth of wonder in a single kiss. I had loved Ada with all my heart, respected her with my mind. But this was another level of closeness, and it surprised me.

I was also gasping when we broke the next kiss.

“Should we…”

I hadn’t finished the sentence when she grinned. It took my breath away, the naughtiness in that smile.

She nodded. I felt my throat tighten with wanting. We stood tentatively and kissed again. Then, laughing shakily, we walked out of the room and into the hallway.

Heading upstairs to my bedroom.

Chapter 8

Emma

I followed Alexander with a pounding heart. I could barely believe it was true. That this was really happening to me. Can it be true? Am I really going up the stairs with the sexiest man alive?

We kissed in the doorway again and I felt my heart thumping and a wetness begin between my legs as he drew me against him. His mouth was sweet and he slid his tongue over mine with a practiced ease that made me feel as if I would melt.

He stopped, gently stroking my hair. I sighed and we embraced, nestled close in one another’s arms. I could feel his erection pressing against me and the feeling excited me. I moved against him and he pressed against me, our bodies moving in a natural rhythm that made me ache with longing.

He opened the door and we half-fell in, our arms wrapped around each other.

“Whoops!” he said, grinning at me.

I giggled and wrapped my arms around him. We stood in the middle of the room and our mouths devoured each other. Then he went to switch on the light and draw the curtains.

I glanced around. The room was decorated with the best of everything, but it was plain and striking: white walls and carpet and bedspread and yellow-wood furniture. Everything was of the most amazing quality, but understated.

Then I had no time, for he was upon me. His arms wrapped around me and, lifting me, he carried me gently to the bed.

“Alexander! No! Put me down!” I giggled, keeping my voice a soft whisper just in case the rest of the household heard it. He grinned and kissed me.

Then he laid me gently on the bed. I drew him into my arms. His body against mine was hard and warm and I could feel the heat of his skin through the cotton of his shirt. I ran my hands down his back, marveling at the muscles that corded it.

His lips found my throat and I closed my eyes. He kissed it, lapping it in little teasing moves that sent fire chasing down to my abdomen. I leaned against the wall and he moved in closer, tongue making patterns on my skin. I was panting now, my eyes closed, head thrown back. I never wanted him to stop kissing me, stop doing all these wonderful things.

He moved lower and I reached to unbutton my shirt. He looked into my eyes.

“No,” he said softly.

“No?”

“Tonight I am doing everything.”

I let out a shuddering breath but did not protest as, slowly, tenderly, he reached up to my collar.

I closed my eyes as his hands slowly unbuttoned the shirt, fumbling a little in a way that made me smile because it was so genuine. I wriggled as he unfastened the last one, moving so that the shirt slid down to my arms. He sighed, sitting back to look at me.

“You are so beautiful,” he said.

I felt as if I might cry. “Thank you,” I said, my throat closing up. It had been a long, long time since anyone had said that. His saying it meant the world to me.

He reached forward then and his hand found my breast. He cupped it, his fingers muscled and tightening on my flesh in a way that made me shudder with wanting. He squeezed me again, his thumb stroking the skin that showed over the material. Then he broke the earnest concentration with which he had been looking down and looked up.

“Turn around.”

I nodded, obeying. I lay on my tummy as he worked on the clasp. My legs were bent, my knees and feet on the satiny carpet, my bottom facing into the room. He unfastened the clasp and stroked a hand down my back, giving my buttocks a playful nip.

I giggled, and he laughed. “Nice.”

I felt my heart pound. “Thanks,” I whispered.

“A pleasure. In the truest sense of the word.”

I giggled, breathless with delight, and he laughed. “I want to see the front of you though.”

I rolled obediently onto my back and he gazed at where the bra was starting to slide loose. Obeying his wishes, I had not taken it off. He reached out and slowly unhooked it from my arm, gazing at my chest with focused intensity. I shivered as he took it off, then sat back and just looked at me. He stroked my skin and I bit my lip as his hand played over my breasts.

“Such soft skin,” he whispered. I smiled. His touch grew more exploratory, his fingers gently plucking at my nipples. I felt them tense up and I bit my lip, loving the way his touch made me tingle all over.

I had my eyes closed when he bent down to kiss me. His mouth moved to my breast. First, he licked the skin, his tongue making warm paths over my skin, soft and wonderful. Then he reached the nipple. He took it into his mouth, sucking in a way that was rough enough for me to feel it, but gentle enough to never hurt me. Only to excite me to a level of madness.

“Alex…” I whispered. He chuckled. He licked a path to the other breast and did the same, then moved lower. His tongue made rougher circles as he reached the waist of my skirt and his hand searched for the zipper. I smiled, raising my body so he could reach behind me. He chuckled and lowered it. Then he drew back my skirt.

He stared down at the space between my legs, standing there with my skirt in his hands while I lay back on his bed. I felt my heart pounding and guessed I was wet.

Then he came forward and pulled down my satin panties, wriggling them over my knees and off my feet. I giggled as he lifted my leg to draw them off. He smiled. His eyes were still looking elsewhere, watching what he exposed as he took off the underwear.

Now I was nude. He sat down beside me on the bed and looked at me. His hand danced lightly over my skin. His fingers tickled and I smiled.

“It’s funny,” he said in that beautiful, musical tone, “isn’t it?”

“Funny?” I asked, trying to sound cross. I laughed, though, and he smiled slowly.

“Strange,” he corrected. “It’s strange that, from the moment I met you, I wanted this.”

“Me too,” I whispered.

He stared at me. “No!”

“Yes,” I whispered. I had really disliked him at first—or I had thought it was—but actually it was the intensity of emotion that he aroused that I disliked. True dislike felt more like wanting to avoid someone, yet this was mainly a fear of embarrassing myself.

“I thought you couldn’t stand me!” he said, still laughing.

“I thought so too!”

Then we were collapsed on the bed together and his body pressed against mine. I could feel his erection against me and we moved against one another, his cock finding my place of greatest pleasure even through his pants.

I couldn’t bear it anymore. I had to feel him inside me. I sat up.

“What?” he laughed, staring at me.

“Yes,” I said. I reached up and began to unbutton his shirt.

“I did say this was my night,” he whispered.

“I know,” I said, not stopping. He laughed. He let me undo the first two, then gently moved my hand away.

“No,” he said, kissing my arm.

I nodded and let him undress himself, which was good. He did it much faster than I would have done. Then he came to lie beside me.

I wrapped my arms around him and pulled his body toward mine. He chuckled throatily and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me against him too. His mouth covered mine and he gave me a passionate kiss. Then he moved against me as we had done, our bodies connecting in an amazing rhythm that made waves of longing flow up through me.

I made little noises in my throat, little panting sounds of longing. He smiled and reached down, his hand sliding between my legs. He gently fingered me, his warm, sure hands sliding in the wetness. His index finger slid inside me and I felt my heart stop.

“Okay?”

“Yes.”

He chuckled.

Then he was moving across, pushing me on to my back so that his whole body lay on mine. He rose up and very gently slid inside me.

Chapter 9

Alex

I have never felt anything like I did when I undressed Emma. She was so beautiful. And the way she was too—engaging, funny, unsure, but certainly far from shy. No one else had tried to take my shirt off, for a start.

I did not want to stop looking at her, stop exploring her body slowly, but the moment I felt the slick moistness between her legs I knew I had to be inside of her.

I slid in, feeling a sudden mix of relief and amazement as I entered her. She was so warm, wet and clinging. It made me feel so satisfied, and so complete. I drew back and then entered her again. She made a small sound and her lips parted the way they had on that first day she was here, when I had wanted to kiss her so badly and had thought it impossible.

My mind surged back to the present moment as we started to move together. I felt waves of motion pass through me, and as I thrust into her so deeply, I wondered if it hurt.

“Okay?”

She grinned. “Wonderful.”

I laughed. Then my mind moved from everything but moving against her, feeling the sense of pressure and pleasure rise in me and rise and rise as I entered her and entered her, pounding and pounding.

My body started shaking, then, and I lost all sense except of how I was moving and thrusting and the orgasm was building and building and threatening to overwhelm me.

I was growling with pleasure, my arms wrapped around her, trying desperately to hold back until she came too.

“Oh!”

She let out a little noise, and then another, and another, rising in sound and intensity, until, finally, with a wild shout she collapsed on the pillows, glossy with perspiration.

I could let go now, and I did, my body pushing into hers, and pushing…

I could not quite believe it when it came. I had never felt an orgasm that did what this one did. I was gasping and I still could not stop. Finally, completely spent, I lay down.

“Whew,” I whispered. I could feel myself pumping weakly inside of her. She smiled, holding me close. She kissed me and her lips were soft and tender. I kissed her, letting my tongue slide between those sweet, moist lips.

We lay together for what felt like a long time. Then I rolled off her, my body sliding out of hers.

“I’ll get something,” I said, heading to the bathroom to fetch a towel.

I tenderly wiped her thighs, then the bedspread. Then I lay down beside her.

We looked at each other, eyes wide with wonder. I smiled and we kissed again.

My hand stroked that silky hair and she nestled close to me. When she snuggled into my encircling arm I thought my heart might break. We lay like that for a long while. Then I felt wanting begin to rise inside again. I could smell the scent of her muskiness and I felt a need to explore it.

Rolling over, I kissed her and then moved my mouth lower. She sighed as I nuzzled her neck, then moved lower. I kissed the soft skin of her breasts and then slid my body so I was between her legs. I looked up at her. Her eyes flew open as I touched her there.

I smiled. She looked amazed, but nodded.

Then I bent lower.

This close, the smell of her womanhood was sweet and almost floral. I slid a finger over the soft skin of her labia, amazed at the wetness there. They were sticky and slick and it felt so very good. I heard her gasp as I put a finger inside her, and the sound aroused me even as the feeling of her did.

I took her clitoris between my teeth, making gentle little nibbles and she gasped aloud. She was sobbing now, and I heard her sighing my name. Nothing could have fired me to greater efforts. I licked her, making my tongue move faster and faster against her clitoris. She was gasping, bouncing up and down and I smiled, pushing my chin against her so that I could take more of her between my lips.

She was shrieking and I could feel my own cock hardening painfully beneath me even as I licked her. She was starting to shudder and I wanted to make her come, so I continued. My tongue flicked against her and flicked and flicked…

She gave a sudden cry and I felt wetness flowing out of her. I smiled. I could not have felt prouder if I tried.

Giving her a last nip, I slid up to lie beside her. I took her warm body in my arms and pulled her against me and we lay like that while I kissed her, feeling my cock probing between her legs, straining as if with its own mind to be inside.

I slid onto my knees again, entering her. She gasped aloud.

This time, we did it slowly. Gently. Penetrating her was the sweetest thing, my body and hers so aligned that it felt effortless and wonderful to be inside her.

When we lay together afterward, I took her into my arms and held her close. She cuddled beside me and we lay together, bodies completely satisfied.

I think I dozed, then. Feeling so content and wonderful, I couldn’t help it. I woke to feel her turning sideways. She pressed her bottom up against me and I turned onto my side, loving the way it felt to have her body so close to me.

We lay like that, my arm around her chest, my other arm somewhere at her waist, her buttocks pressing into my waist, and as we lay there, I stroked her hair. She made a little sound, a laugh.

“Mm?”

She turned around a little, her eyes looking into mine.

“This is nice.”

I felt myself glow. For all my reputation, I had not felt so affirmed in all my days.

“It is,” I agreed.

We lay like that until we slept and we slept until the dawn woke us. We woke up together as light shone through a window and somewhere out in the garden beyond, the birds sang.

Chapter 10

Emma

I woke up the next morning feeling wonderful. I felt the light filter onto my eyelids and felt a warm arm, holding me tight. I lay there for a few moments, just thinking about the previous night and savoring the wonderful memories of all that had happened.

I moved, or I must have, because slowly I heard the sound of Alex’s breathing change. Where it had been deep and slow, it became almost silent.

Then, as I moved back a little more, his hand clenched, drawing me closer still. I sighed and nestled closer.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning,” I said.

We lay still, his hand on my chest, my buttocks pressed against him. He kissed my hair and I felt my heart grow warm.

“Good day,” I repeated, rolling over and kissing his mouth. His hand strayed to my breast, tightening there. I flushed, remembering all the things we had done. And wanting to do more.

I wriggled back, letting my buttocks press against him. He gave a low laugh.

“I want you,” he whispered in my ear. I shuddered, feeling my skin prickle with wanting.

“I want you,” I said.

“Good.”

He slid in from behind me and I gasped, amazed by how totally different it felt from that angle. As his body penetrated me, deep and full, I moved back, pushing against him. His arms wrapped around me and drew me into his thrusting.

When we had finished, we lay together and watched the sun rise.

He moved around from where he lay behind me, sitting and leaning to kiss me. I changed position so we faced each other. I looked up into his eyes, amazed at how he looked at me. We both smiled.

“I need to go now,” he said, and he sounded rueful.

“Why?”

“I have an early morning flight to catch,” he sighed.

I had forgotten. I reached up, stroked his chest. “Be safe?”

He smiled. “I’m coming back here, no matter what.”

I laughed, but his words did make me feel suddenly uneasy. He must have noticed, because he stroked my hair, kissing me.

“I want you to be safe too,” he said gently. He frowned, then, and I noticed a faraway look.

“What?”

“Nothing. Doesn’t matter,” he said, mouth in a self-mocking smile. “Just me being silly.”

I smiled. “Alexander,” I said, using his full name and making my voice sound its bossiest, “there is absolutely no way you’re silly.”

He laughed, tipping his head back. I smiled. He was so handsome.

When he looked at me, he leaned down and very tenderly kissed my brow. “I’ll come back soon.”

“Good.”

I laughed as he, sliding off the bed, finished, “I will come back very soon.”

I rolled onto my tummy, listening as he padded into the shower. I lay there, lost in a drowsy paradise.

When he came out, his stunning body still slightly damp, a towel wrapped around his waist, hair dripping, I couldn’t help grinning.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Somehow I knew that I had never before felt anything so wonderful. He was smiling at me, and I smiled back and my chest was full of a lovely light feeling.

He dressed quickly, and came back to my bedside looking at once relaxed and debonair in a way that only he could.

“Well then,” he said, bending to kiss me on the lips. “I should go. Stay safe.”

“You too,” I whispered.

He looked at me levelly, kissed me and walked slowly out of the room. He didn’t look back though at the door I saw him hesitate as if reluctant to open it and that sent a rush of pleasure through me.

I lay there, wrapped in a kind of haze of joy. I wrapped my arms around myself.

Then, sighing, I slid off the lovely, slippery bed and stood on the carpet.

I looked around the room, checking the floor to see where we had discarded my things. They didn’t seem to be around. A moment later and some walking around the room I found them: he had folded them and placed them on the plush chair by the window.

I felt a sense of being cared for. He was like that. So thoughtful, I thought, as I dressed. I looked around the room, amazed again by how beautiful it was, how classic.

When I was dressed, I drifted down the hallway to my room with a sense of wonder. I entered the place, collapsing onto the bed with a weary joy.

When I sat up, I remembered I had no idea what the time was. I checked. It was seven am.

Time to rest for a while before I went downstairs to the dining-room for the kids to have breakfast. That would be good.

I did have a shower, washed my hair and then slid into bed. I knew I wouldn’t sleep, for I was far too awake for that by now, but I didn’t want to start the day just yet. I wanted my memories to cling around me, sustaining me.

At ten to eight I dressed and went down to wait for the kids to arrive.

They came in subdued.

“Emma?” Camille asked it first, staring at me.

“What?” I felt myself flush. How could the kids possibly know? I dismissed the idea instantly. It was way past their bedtime when it happened.

“You’re still with us!” Jack sounded at once happy and unsure. I frowned.

“Yes, why?”

“Hooray!”

Camille launched herself at me, hugging my knees. They both seemed elated and I felt wonderful. Jack came to join us with more decorum and we all hugged together in the dining-room.

“Breakfast is ready.”

We all turned to look at the door, Paula there with her apron on, a scent of things cooking wafting in from behind her.

The kids looked up at me, smiling, then ran toward her.

“Goody!”

“I’m starving!”

I chuckled as they took their place at the table. While they ate—and amazed me with their excellent table manners, as usual—we discussed their fears.

“We thought you’d gone.”

“Daddy was shouting!”

I sighed. They had at least heard that much of what happened. I laid my fork beside my plate and explained.

“Daddy and I disagreed about something. But he wanted me to stay. I stayed.”

“Whee!” Camilla shouted.

Jack smiled. “So you’re here for a long time?”

“A month,” I said. I wasn’t sure what else to say. I didn’t want to make any forecast about what would happen. At that moment, I didn’t want to think about that. All I wanted was to sit here, in a room that smelled of breakfast and remember loving.

The children chatted as they ate and drank and the sound of their voices mixed with the clink of cutlery and china as they did so. I looked out of the window, feeling wonderful.

At length, they had finished their breakfast. School was starting soon, apparently. I hadn’t mentioned that fact, but Jack had raised the topic. Contrary to my expectations, he was excited: I was sure Alexander had picked the school well.

While we played that day, I couldn’t help my thoughts straying to Alexander. I wondered what he was doing, where he was. If he was okay. I surprised myself by how I cared for him even now.

The days passed, slowly. I got into an easy routine with the kids and before I knew it, it was Friday. Only a week until he came back, then. My heart fluttered when I thought of it.

Later, I sat in the dining-room with coffee and my phone, waiting for the kids to finish their lessons. I heard running feet, and Jack exploded into the room.

“Emma!”

I stared at him. It was so unlike calm, composed Jack to make a fuss about anything. What was happening?

He was followed by Cammi and the evening post. I frowned, wondering where they had got it.

“Emma!” Jack was saying, excitedly. “You should have told us!”

I frowned at him where he stood, looking elated and reproachful at once. “I don’t think I had anything to tell you…” I began cautiously. Then they put the newspaper on the table and my heart stopped.

On the back page, close to the gossip column, was me. At least, it was clear it was me if you knew me. The photo showed a woman sitting with Alexander in the park, laughing, their hands touching.

The caption said: “Billionaire’s new love.”

I shook my head, not understanding. The kids were both grinning at me and Cammi was trying to sit on my knee.

“So you are going to marry our daddy? Why you said you weren’t?”

I looked down into those beautiful blue eyes and felt my heart clench. How could anyone refuse the wish of such a sweet girl? But, at the same time, how could I do anything else?

Jack looked at me, his eyes asking questions.

“What does it mean?” he asked me levelly. I could only pat his shoulder.

“I don’t know.”

The picture was clearly from our time in the park. I had no idea we were watched, and I was fairly certain that Alexander didn’t either. He wasn’t the kind of person to let the press get hold of anything until he had made up his mind about it first. My first instinct told me he would be really mad at me for it. I had the urge to try and make it disappear, pray that he hadn’t ever seen it and it would all go away. But I knew I couldn’t.

Jack looked at me and he must have seen how worried I was, because he reached a hand out and covered mine with it. His small hand barely covered mine, but the gesture moved me to crying.

I blinked rapidly, trying to think of something that would reassure them. I could only think of one thing.

“We should find out what Daddy thinks about this. I’m sure it’s a mistake.”

Cammi stared at me, her big pale eyes shiny with sudden tears. I suddenly felt like a murderer. I had stood up, but I sat back down again. I lifted her to sit on my knee. I stroked her hair. Hell, I sometimes felt like I was her mother. It was ridiculous.

“Cammi, sweetheart,” I said gently. “I think newspapers don’t always say real things. I haven’t talked to your daddy about anything…like that.” Well, that part was true. “I need to talk to him first.”

I bit my lip, feeling a grim nervousness grip me. The thought of what Alexander would say if he knew the press had gotten a picture of us together was scaring me.

“But…” Cammi was frowning at me.

At that moment, Jack put a gentle hand on her. She looked up at him trustingly. “Yes?”

“Cammi, I think we should let Emma call Daddy. She needs to chat to him first.”

I threw him a grateful look and put my hand on his shoulder. Hell, if I had a son it would be wonderful to have a son like him. I shook my head vigorously. That isn’t possible. Alexander was not going to marry me…why would he?

Jack smiled at me and I patted his soft hair. “Thanks.”

“It’s nothing,” he said shyly.

“But, if Daddy is in the paper with Emma, and it says “Billionaire’s love”, then doesn’t that mean they’re going to get married?” Cammi was asking Jack as he led her away. I didn’t hear the answer, but I trusted Jack to say something sensible. It was amazing how I already did trust him.

When they had gone, I collapsed on the desk. My head on my arms, I lay there, wishing I could disappear.

What is he going to say?

It came to me that it wasn’t all my fault. That we had both done that together. It wasn’t just me in the article after all! But I wasn’t sure if Alexander would see it that way. There was no reason for him not to blame me and my memories of my ex and his injustice was with me.

I might as well get it over with, I decided.

I stood, feeling surprisingly shaky, and walked to the door. I headed upstairs to my room. Sitting on the bed, feeling as like a condemned prisoner, I punched his number into my phone.

“Alexander?”

“I know,” he said quietly. “Emma, are you okay?”

I almost dropped the phone in shock. “Am I okay?” I laughed a little hysterically—relief did that to a person. “Why would I not be okay?”

I heard him breathe a sigh. He sounded as relieved as I was, which was ridiculous. “Good,” he sighed. “Well then.”

“Well?” I frowned deeply.

“Well then,” he said, and he laughed lightly. “What can we do about it?”

“I was thinking maybe we could call the press, and…” I started bravely. I had it all planned out. He could make a statement and make insinuations about legal action, and they would do something to change things.

He was laughing, and he cut across me. “I didn’t mean that,” he said quietly. “It’s novel to be in tabloids again…let them talk.”

I actually dropped the phone. Luckily, it landed on my pillow and didn’t drop the connection. “What?” I said, picking it up again.

“Leave it,” he repeated, laughing again. “What about us?”

“Us?” I felt a delightful feeling spread through me, a slow tingle from my womb to my chest that felt as if it glowed.

“Well,” he said carefully, “since the whole state knows now, we can at least stop pretending it’s fake news.”

I laughed. He sounded so happy and I was happy too. “Okay,” I said.

“Well, I still don’t know about being too public,” he said, sounding suddenly cautious. “As it is, they can’t really see your face on that picture, and…”

I felt a stab of disappointment. Which was silly, since a minute or two before I had thought he’d be furious for anyone to know about us, and now I was sad because he wasn’t offering to take me to the Oscars with him. I laughed a little sadly.

“I know,” I said, trying to conceal how his words had upset me. Of course he didn’t really want people to see me. I was the nanny! He was embarrassed of me.

“I’m sorry.”

That surprised me. He was so thoughtful, considering my feelings. “No!” I said, laughing, though I admit it was a trifle tense. “You mustn’t apologize to me. It’s fine.”

“I don’t like hiding things,” he said quietly.

I felt the wonderful, sunny glow returning. “I know,” I said again, my voice low.

“I don’t think you do,” he said sadly. “But thank you.”

“Thank you?”

“For understanding. For accepting me.”

I really was sure that if I had any more shocks I would suffer permanent damage. But the man kept on being unexpected. “I, accept you?”

“Yes,” he said, and I could hear laughter in his voice.

“Alexander!”

He chuckled. “You know what I mean. I’m full of my nonsense sometimes.”

I laughed. “Maybe. But I like it.”

“Thank you.”

“Thank you,” I repeated. I was about to hang up, when I remembered something.

“The kids…” I said, trailing off.

“What about them?” Alexander asked, voice suddenly strained. I instantly regretted worrying him. I knew how he feared something happening to them.

“They’re fine,” I said quietly. “It’s the fact that they saw…well, that.”

He was silent for a moment. “Oh. They did?”

“Yes.”

He sounded tense. “How did they react?”

“Well, quite positively,” I said tentatively. I wasn’t sure how much to tell him. I didn’t want him any more stressed.

“Oh,” he said, sounding surprised for a change. “Well. Then. That’s not too bad.”

“Well,” I hesitated. “Maybe not.”

He laughed. “If they weren’t shocked, or mad at me, then that’s fine.”

“What?”

“Well, they might not be pleased with me showing affection to you. Jealous of my attention or, more likely, jealous of yours for me.”

I laughed. “I don’t think that’s true.”

“Good,” he said firmly. “Well,” he said, clearing his throat. “I should be at a meeting.”

“Oh,” I said, feeling bad for keeping him occupied. “I should head off.”

“I don’t want you to,” he said gently. I felt the words move through my body, making my heart beat faster.

“That’s good.”

He chuckled. “Good day.”

“You too.”

When he left, I sat there feeling dazed. I knew I should move, go and find the kids, ask Paula what was for dinner. Do normal things. But I felt as if all my strength had been sucked away, and left me with a sweet, floating wonder in its place.

Chapter 11

Emma

The newspaper article seemed not to bring any negative results. At least, at the mansion, there were no consequences that I could see. We woke early, the kids and I, spent the day, a Saturday, in peaceful activities and then went to bed. If there were press people hiding in the flowers or photos snapped from behind bushes, I didn’t see it.

As I lay in bed that night, I couldn’t help feeling amazed at how weird it was that I was worrying about paparazzi. I mean, I wasn’t famous! I was no one. How could I be ducking from press photographers. Or living in a mansion, for that matter. I grinned.

I was thinking of Alexander, and my hand strayed between my thighs. Just the thought of him made me wet, and I smiled. I couldn’t wait until he got back.

It was late. I had stayed up after the kids went to bed, working on my laptop. I had some tax to fill out, and had thought the mind-numbing work would be just the thing I needed at this time. I could feel myself getting more tired, and then I heard the phone ring. It was Alexander. I sat up quickly and accepted the call. His voice crackled over the line.

“Emma?”

“Alex! Hi!”

I realized after I had said it that I never called him that. Oh, well.

“Emma,” he said again, and he sounded faintly pleased. “I just wanted to say I’m coming home tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” That surprised me. He had told me he was away for a fortnight. He had only been away for a week and a few days. What had happened?

“Yes. I needed to get back. I’m worried.”

I bit my lip. “It’s fine,” I said, feeling stung. “I won’t let anything happen to the kids. You know I care about them.”

He sighed audibly. “It’s not the kids, Emma. It’s…everything. I can’t explain.”

“It’s okay,” I said. “You don’t need to.” I paused. “It’ll be good to see you here again.”

He smiled. I could hear the way his voice changed when he did it. “It will be good to be back. It’s not just because I’m worried that I’m coming back early.”

“Oh?”

“I miss you.”

“I miss you too.”

When we had said goodbye, I was flushed and excited. He would be here tomorrow? I hugged myself, thinking about it, and slid into bed. Wrapped in the glow of it, I fell asleep.

The next day I dressed carefully. I had no idea when he would be back and I wanted to look my best for whenever it happened. I felt like a little girl.

The kids were prepared for the arrival. Alex had clearly already called them, and they were even more excited—at least more visibly—than I was.

At four o’clock, I was sitting quietly outside, keeping an eye on the kids while they played tag in the garden. I heard a footfall on the path behind me. Then his voice.

“Emma!”

“Alex!”

I leaped up and his arms wrapped round me. I wrapped my arms around him and drew him close. We embraced tightly.

My body ached. I wanted him so badly that I thought I would actually explode. I pressed against him tightly, feeling my pulse quicken. He kissed me. I let my lips slide over his, letting in his wet tongue.

We stood there for a while and he broke the kiss, gasping. “Emma, we shouldn’t,” he said quietly. He looked around. I blinked. Alexander was not like that, suspicious or overconcerned. Looking at him, I noticed that he looked stressed.

“Alex,” I asked, reaching to stroke his hair. I breathed in his ear, kissing his cheek. “You’re stressed.”

He gave a chuckle. “No. I’m not. I mean, yes. But.”

“But what?”

“But I’m also so, so glad to be here.”

He kissed me in a way that made my bones go fluid and left me needing him. He looked into my eyes. “Upstairs, soon?”

I giggled. “Now, if you like,” I whispered back. He nodded.

“Can’t wait.”

We shared a sexy smile, and then he went striding across the grass toward where Jack was chasing his sister hastily across the lawn.

“Jack! Camille!” he called, arms out. “It’s me!”

“Daddy!”

“Dad!”

The two of them bolted across the lawn and embraced him, Emma clinging to his knees and Jack round his waist. From a discreet distance, I watched the sweet reunion as he scooped Cammi up to his chest and patted Jack’s head.

“Kids! It’s so good to see you!”

Jack flushed, reaching up to his hand. Cammi beamed. “Daddy! You’re back. We wished you would be back earlier, and then you are! And now we can ask you…”

“Let Dad freshen up first,” Jack advised Cammi, stalling her. I breathed a sigh of relief. I didn’t want to push Alex’s volatile temper. They walked past me toward the house, and I sent a big grin in Jack’s direction. He nodded back.

A moment or two later, I followed them inside.

I didn’t wait long, actually. About three minutes later I heard Alex walk along the hallway and I followed him up to his bedroom.

We kissed and fell through the door, hands already tearing at the suddenly-unwanted clothing. His body was against mine and I could feel how much he wanted me. I wanted him, probably even more.

When we were done, I lay in his arms, perspiring and peaceful. I kissed him and he kissed me back, slow and tenderly. He stroked my head.

“I had to come back,” he said simply.

I smiled. “I’m very glad about it.”

We giggled together. “You are a wonderful woman,” he said, looking into my eyes with an expression so sweet it made my heart hurt.

“You are a wonderful man,” I whispered softly. He giggled.

“I don’t think so really, but thank you.”

“You saying I tell fibs?” I said crossly.

“I would never do that!” he made an exaggerated expression of shock. I grinned. We kissed again and I felt immense satisfaction. I ran a hand over his muscled body.

He made a satisfied grunt and drew me closer. We kissed again. He ran his fingers down my spine.

“We should go somewhere,” he said. “I don’t like the fact that people know…”

“Let them know,” I said recklessly, echoing him confidently.

He chuckled. “I wish I could,” he said. “Emma,” he added, clearly noticing I looked upset. “It’s not because I’m hiding you.”

“Yes, it is,” I said. “But that’s understandable.” I blinked, feeling angry tears. I wouldn’t cry in front of him. Dammit! I looked at the ceiling, holding them back.

“It isn’t.” He insisted. “One day I can tell you what. But not now. It’s unsafe.”

“Okay,” I said quietly. I didn’t want him to be upset.

“Good,” he said. “I’m happy you understand.”

“Of course I can,” I said, even to my own ears sounding desperately unconvincing.

“Well then,” he whispered. “Bear with me. And join me in Miami.”

I swallowed. “Really?”

“Really, I can go next week. Please, I want you to. The kids will come. They’ll have their own rooms, though,” he added, winking. “I rent a house there, and…”

I chuckled. “Alexander! You’re awesome.”

He blushed. “No, I’m not. But does that mean you’ll come? I can’t be there every day, but I would try to spend at least three days and seven nights.”

I laughed. “Oh!”

He blushed. “Sorry about the priorities. But that’s your fault.”

I giggled. “I’m glad to hear I am priority.”

“Prime priority, my dearest. The first and foremost. Truly.”

I shivered, holding him close. “Thank you,” I said.

“Don’t mention it,” he said, chuckling as he exaggerated his drawling accent for that part. “Now, then. What can we do this evening?”

“Well…” I said, breathing sexily into the curve of his neck. “I wonder…”

He laughed throatily. “I didn’t mean that,” he said, stroking my side. “I meant, besides that!”

I smiled. I felt a huge happiness filling me, it was like nothing I had ever felt before.

“Well then,” I grinned, kissing his nose. “That depends on you.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. On how tired you are.”

“Okay,” he agreed. “In which case, I’m never tired. In fact, I am the least tired thing in the whole world,” he laughed. I kissed him on the tip of the nose.

We lay together for a while, then he slid his arm out. “Okay, supper!” he said, glancing at the clock. I was surprised that it was already six pm.

“I was asleep,” I smiled.

“Well, I was thinking,” he said. “How about we have something special?”

“Okay,” I said.

“We can eat in, though?” he asked. “I’m tired.”

“Okay.”

I couldn’t help assuming that he wanted to eat in because he was embarrassed about my status. I had gathered that he didn’t want me to know that, but I couldn’t imagine another reason for Alexander to be so secretive.

“I’ll go and call. You like sushi?”

“My best.”

He grinned. “Your wish is my command.”

I felt a tingle in my tummy, butterflies shimmering in there. I giggled.

“And your wish is mine too.”

He kissed me. “Now don’t go giving me ideas,” he whispered. “I want you so much already. Feel?”

My hand gripped his cock and I smiled. “Yes. You are.”

He laughed.

We got dressed and had dinner. I hadn’t asked how much it cost, because I didn’t want to know. It was incredible. The kids ate it too, with the same incredible politeness I had come to expect from them.

I was feeling sleepy, probably because of our afternoon excess, and so I excused myself for a walk in the garden. It was still dusky-darkness out there, and the lawn smelled of dew. I enjoyed my walk, and resolved to head up to the back of the stand of trees and then head back again.

The night was quiet, so quiet. Suddenly, something rustled in the bushes. An arm shot out and grabbed me. I screamed.

A hand came down on my mouth and something hit me on the back of the head and everything went dark.

Chapter 12

Alex

“Where are you?” I called. I wasn’t really worried. It was my garden, and I knew every inch of it. I knew that it was not dangerous. Somewhere a night bird shrieked once but otherwise was silent. The crickets sang. The grass was soaked with dew and I breathed deeply and walked along the path. When I reached the end of it I stopped.

“Emma?”

Something felt wrong. I couldn’t have said what it was exactly. It was just that the place at the end of the path where it touched the edge of the copse of trees felt wrong. I looked at the grass, and while I did I started noticing what it was. The grass was flattened.

I could see footprints on the surface of the dew. They glinted there. They led toward the wall.

“Emma!”

I shouted it, running to the wall. I felt a sudden madness enter me. I reached up to the top of the wall, being careful not to zap myself on the electric wiring around the top part of it. Hoisting myself up, I found a surprising thing. It wasn’t on…not anymore, anyway.

“Oh, my…” I dropped off the wall. I felt dazed. This was terrifying. This was…this was exactly what happened the last time. Exactly what happened to Ada.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to run. I had absolutely no idea what to do, other than hate myself for doing this again. For loving someone and killing them because of it.

I heard a car in the road beyond. That broke the stunned state that I currently was. Cars hardly ever came down our road. Especially at this time. Or that fast. I knew what to do.

Reaching into my pocket to call the private security firm I employ now to look after my private security needs, I found my hand was shaking as I tried to dial. I called, and spoke to Klaas, the head of the unit, as I ran to the garage.

“Klaas? Yeah. There’s been a breach in the wall and…” and I could barely say this, but I had to say it anyway, “and my girlfriend’s gone.”

I paused while Klaas said all the things one might expect—most of them beginning with the letter F—and then took a shaky breath.

“Quite,” I said. “Well, calling them fuckers isn’t going to help us. Please send two cars round here now. We need to trace these people. I heard a vehicle in the road behind and we can identify the tracks and follow them from there.”

Klaas apologized, and said he’d sort it out. I was already inside the garage. I was about to jump into the fastest car I owned and streak off to find her myself, when I realized how very stupid that actually was. I had no idea at all where she might be.

I ran back to the house.

“Kids,” I said, when I met them standing in the dining-room, looking scared. “There’s a problem. Um…Emma’s gone. We don’t know where. Daddy has to go find her. Okay?”

“Emma ran away from here?”

“No, sweetie,” I explained. “We just need to find out where she’s gone.” I didn’t want to say she’d been taken. Jack was old enough to remember what happened the first time. And I didn’t want him to think it would happen again. I didn’t want to think that either.

I heard the front doorbell. Happy for the fast response of the team, I ran to answer it. I found myself confronted with Klaas himself, the thickest South African with a blunt, open face.

“Hell,” he said. “What the fuck happened, man?” He ran a hand over his shaved head, face a picture of concern.

“No idea, Klaas. I appreciate you coming here.”

“Not at all,” he nodded. “Take us to the tracks.”

I nodded, leading him out to the place beside the hole in the fence. Sure enough, there were tracks there in the road. It must have accelerated at a hell of a rate because there was dark rubber left on the tarred surface.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Klaas agreed, studying them for a moment. “SUV. Smallish one. Colt treads. We’ll look up possibilities. In the meantime, I’m sending one of the cars that way.”

“Thanks,” I said, feeling suddenly weak with relief. Klaas looked at me astutely.

“No worries, man.”

I swallowed hard. It was probably sound advice, but impossible to follow. I had to get Emma back. I had to.

“Where will you go?” I asked, indicating the other team and Klaas himself.

Klaas started giving instructions. “You,” he said to the first man. “Go and question the security guard. You can do the house staff. You, look at the security camera data for…when, Mr. Carring?”

“Around six thirty,” I said, thinking quickly.

“Okay. Any time between six and seven,” Klaas nodded to his man, who disappeared. That left him with one other, and himself.

“Okay, Juan,” he said to the last man. “You keep in radio contact with the guys. Let me know if they find anything. And I,” he said to me, “will go and find what we’re looking for.”

“Thanks,” I said again.

“No worries, man.”

I followed Klaas inside and showed him to my office. He could use whatever he needed to in there to try and find whoever these would-be killers were. Because I have not one doubt in my mind that they were.

My mind went back to that time I had tried so hard, so fruitlessly, to forget. Then the call came through that they had Ada. Unless I closed my company, they would kill her.

I had hesitated maybe a moment too long. Not because I valued the company more than Ada, but because I had no idea how to start dismantling it. And perhaps, at least a little, because the company was our livelihood. What would Ada say if we suddenly lost everything?

It was a ridiculous thought, but it was a thought I had. And those two things had cost Ada her life.

They shot her. I was grateful at least for that. Cleanly through the head. It was shocking that I was grateful for that. It should never have happened at all. Images of her—of what she had suffered—played out through my mind for months, robbing me of sleep so that I thought I might lose my mind.

And now it was happening again, this time with Emma.

“I hate these people,” I hissed. The hate was a living thing, like an animal inside me. I clenched my fists, wanting to hold it in. I glanced at my desk, where Klaas calmly sat at the Mac, looking for things about cars. Seeing him was reassuring and I saw that much of my hate was to cover up my fear.

“Well, the fuckers are driving a Colt Ralliart.”

“Oh,” I said. They weren’t exactly cheap cars. Whoever this was seemed to have money at their disposal. But then that should have been obvious: breaching the security around Park House was a serious achievement in itself. I closed my eyes, wondering if I could make any guess at all about who these people might be. Who could possibly hate me enough to hurt the deepest part of my heart? Who was simultaneously well heeled enough and angry enough to do this?

I had no idea. But I knew that the need to get to where they were as quickly as possible. I would not let them take Emma. I had failed Ada and I lived haunted by her spirit all my life. I would not fail Emma. She was my light.

A sound made Klaas look up in surprise.

“Radio,” he said quickly. “Team two. They have something for me.”

“Answer,” I snapped, before I had thought about the fact that Klaas didn’t appreciate that. He raised a brow at me but did it immediately.

“Ace. What you found?” A pause. “Yes.”

I looked at him.

“They found the car.”

That was all I needed.

“I’m coming with you.”

Chapter 13

Emma

The room had a funny smell. That was the first thing I noticed. A sort of dusty scent, like sweeping was a thing it had recently forgotten. I breathed in. Then I noticed I was stiff.

Ropes. On wrists and ankles. I was tied up. Why?

I tried to scream. My throat was very dry and my chest was sore. I managed to wheeze. Instantly, I heard voices.

“She’s awake.”

“Do something.”

“Wait. We don’t know what he’s going to do yet.”

A short sound. It was someone laughing. “Doesn’t matter, does it?”

The other three voices were silent. So was I. I had to know what was meant by that. He was, I guessed, Alexander. What he would or would not do was of personal interest to me and I was terrified. Too frightened to move or think or really do anything except to wait there, still and silent, for whatever they would do.

I wasn’t there very long. Someone pulled me to my feet.

“What we going to do with her?” a rough voice asked.

A laugh that was distinctly horrid. “Plenty o’things we could do,” the voice said. I swallowed hard. I knew exactly what he was talking about and so did everyone else. I wanted to disappear. I felt horrible. Threatened and shamed at once.

“Boss…”

“Phone him.”

“But…”

“Do it.”

Someone must have been phoning, because I heard the fourth man saying: “Tell him we’ll kill her.”

Reality withdrew a step. I was asleep. I had to be. This was a horrid dream and I would wake up. I had to.

“We’re gonna kill her.”

I don’t know what Alex said, or if it even was him, but the person hung up in frustration.

“What did he say?”

“Nothing.”

Nothing. I felt my eyes cloud over. I was crying. Alexander said nothing? Was it even Alexander?

“How do we know this is the right girl?”

“Dunno, boss. Right place, right?”

“So?” he chuckled. “Lots of people could be there. You checked carefully?”

“Careful as I could be. You think she looks like the shot?”

I lay very still, pretending not to breathe, while someone came close to me and held a flashlight close by. I closed my eyes tight to avoid the brightness and so I had no idea what the person looked like. All I knew was that someone was holding my hair off my face with a rough hand. I wanted to move away, to wrest my hair from their fingers, but I knew that any attempt to fight would make things harder for me. Not for them. I lay still and pretended to be sleeping.

“Yes, boss,” the other man, one of the first who had spoken, replied.

“Okay,” he sighed. “So now things get fun.”

“Boss…” the man sounded miserable.

“What?”

“I don’t think we should. I mean, last time…”

The first man sounded sad. The boss sounded furious when he answered.

“Last time?”

“Boss, none of us like killing.”

He laughed. “I don’t like being boss. Not for you lot. But I do it. So do it.”

I could hear his gang weren’t happy. Which made me feel a whole lot better. Not that I really thought they’d rebel and refuse to do it, but because they were not willing to kill me. That gave me faith in people. It didn’t stop me being absolutely terrified.

“What if he does what you told him to?”

“You think I really want that?” a laugh. “Yes, I want to take what he has. But I want to hurt him. And this will do that.”

I knew then that I was going to be killed. Whoever this was had hated Alexander with devotion for years.

The only thing that puzzled me was who was last time? Who was it these people had killed. Was it someone of Alexander’s, or some other case altogether.

“Alex…” I murmured. The moment I did it, I realized how that would not help anything. Now they knew who I was.

“See?” the first man said. “We have the right girl.”

I felt the atmosphere in the room change. It was as if the light dimmed. They all knew now that they would kill me. I felt a strange sense fill me. It was a sense of regret. Of goodbye. I was absolutely not ready to die. Not now. Now when my life was happy in a way it had never been before now. I thought of the kids, of little Cammi and Jack who had been so important to me. I saw their angelic faces and I wept. I would never see them again. I saw another face, severe with its hollow cheeks and perfect nose, its level brown eyes and its severe hair. I would never see him again. Never.

“Alex,” I said again. This time I was sobbing. I couldn’t help it. They were secondary to the drama that was mine, the trauma that was mine. I was going to stop living. To stop waking up to sunshine and going to bed with the stillness of night and the presence of my lover beside me. I would never see the kids grow up.

“Shut her up,” one of the men said, disgusted.

But I would not shut up. They could kill me, it was true. But they were going to do that anyway. This was my life. These were my last few glorious minutes, and they could not stop me. I sobbed. The more I remembered, the more I sobbed. His hands in my hair. His kisses.

“Alex…” I sobbed. I heard someone move in the room, felt a blow on the side of my head. It did not affect me. I convulsed, my tears running down my cheeks. “Alex,” I whispered. “Alex. Alex.”

I was hysterical and knew it. But it was the saddest I could remember being. I started screaming, his name on my lips every time I did.

“Shut her up! Hit her, put a gag on. Anything!”

The man was joined by another and they did both. The one hit me on the head and the other one lifted my head. They would not shut me up, not unless they shot me.

“Alex!” I screamed.

A sudden shot rang out.

At least, I thought it was a shot. A fine dust sprayed across me and the room filled with shouting and confusion. I coughed. There was dust filling the room. And sunlight.

The men were rushing about and shouting, and I had no idea what was going on. I felt some stones fall onto the skin of my face and I jerked back, wanting to shake them off: cement dust makes me itchy.

Cement. The wall.

I dimly saw that someone must have infiltrated. The running feet were probably my captors. I heard a shot, and then another. I stopped trying to slide toward the patch of sunlight and lay very still, praying no one would hit me.

I heard voices shouting, swearing. None of them were voices I knew, besides the voices I knew from my recent captors’ conversation. Then, the sounds became less frequent. I lay exactly where I was and listened as two more shots rang out and then there was silence except for a crunch where two men walked on stones near me.

“There!”

I knew that voice.

“Alex!”

I was crying. A pair of feet ran across the crunching dust and stopped at my head. Someone bent down and a hand reached out. The touch I knew so well stroked my hair and someone was whispering my name, over and over.

“Emma. Emma?”

“Alex…” I was suddenly so tired. Everything seemed an effort, even opening my eyes. My head dropped forward and I heaved in a breath, and then lay still. At the moment, Everything hurt and everything was too hard. All I could do was sleep.

“Emma!” Alex shouted and then called out to someone. “Jan! Ric. For pity’s sake! Scissors. A knife?”

One of them must have had something, for I felt him stretch across me to where my hands were bound by my sides. I felt a sudden chill on my arm as a blade passed below string and then the sound of rope, fraying as he cut. The knife bumped me and I grunted in shock.

“Emma! Oh, no. Did I cut you?”

He sounded so concerned that the small part of my mind that remained conscious outside the haze of exhaustion that overran me wanted to laugh. I was going to be shot, I wanted to say. And you’re scared of getting me on the top layer of the skin with a bread knife?

Then my hands were unbound. I felt the sudden warmth of blood flowing to them and then the agony struck. I had no idea how long I had been like that, but my fingers sure did hurt. I knew it would be even more painful when he did my toes.

“Are you okay, eh?”

I gritted my teeth and nodded. “Think…so.”

“Good! Thank Heavens!”

I wanted to laugh again. He sounded so correct, so British, as she should be spoken, but my body was simply too exhausted. I made a sighing noise, then collapsed.

I woke up later. I was in the back of a car. The motion hurt my head, which was, now that I thought about it, in agony. I groaned.

“Emma!” I heard his voice. “You’re awake now!”

I blinked. Where was I? It was Alex in the front seat, but who was driving? And where had I just gone to?

Memory filtered into my agonizing head slowly. The room. The men. My rescue.

“Safe,” I murmured.

I heard a funny sound from the front seat. It could have been laughter, but in truth I think someone sobbed.

“Yes,” he said, and his voice was shaky, so it was Alex himself who sobbed. “Yes, you’re safe. We’re going to go home, now. It’s okay. You’re safe.”

I sighed. I closed my eyes. I felt myself drifting off to sleep, then, because I knew it was okay.

Alex was here and we were going home and it would be safe.

Chapter 14

Alex

I was beside Klaas as we drove back. I could feel my heart pounding with every inch of that trip back. We had Emma, that was true. But we had no idea if Team Two was fighting the kidnappers. And Emma was in serious conditions.

I shouted at Klaas. He had to go faster. Faster. We had to see a doctor, and as soon as we possibly could.

“Mr. Carring,” he said quietly. “This is my job. I don’t tell you how to do your one, do I?”

I wanted to hit him. I think I actually almost did, but thought against it at the last minute. He must have seen me unclench my hand, as he gave a short chuckle.

“I know that’s outta line, sir. But had to be said. You know.”

“I know,” I said, feeling my body suddenly weaker with the stress and the needless arguing.

Whoever it was didn’t say anything, and we were alone together, all three of us. I felt my eyelids heavier now and I closed my eyes, drifting into sleep.

Sleep was short lived, however. Someone—Alex, because I smelled his aftershave—carried me up some steps. Then he bellowed at someone.

“Paula! Get Dr. Harris down here.”

Chapter 15

Emma

I felt bad that he was shouting so unnecessarily and I tried to say it but the words refused to come out. I closed my eyes and let him carry me into another room and put me down on a bed. That made me even sleepier and I felt my eyelids become heavy and I stifled a yawn. Everything still hurt from having been tied so tightly with ropes and so I grunted in pain.

“Dr. Harris?”

I heard good-quality male shoes in the corridor, sticking a little to the tiles in a way that proves they are brand-new shoes. Then I felt a hand touch my head.

“Seems okay to me, sir.”

“For pity’s sake, man! I don’t pay you to stand here. Go have a look!”

I felt the touch probe more gently and then my head was consumed with burning pain.

“She has a fractured skull.”

I heard that sentence, and then I passed out.

I don’t know how long I slept. I only know that I woke much later with no idea where I was. I moved my feet down and they slid on cool fabric. I moved my shoulder back and it slid beneath a coverlet of what was obviously the same kind of cloth, or at least the same kind of cloth. I didn’t say anything but I guessed I was in a bed somewhere in the house. I was proved right.

“Emma? Emma! I’m here. It’s okay. Wake up. Do try to wake up? Doctor said you shouldn’t sleep too much.”

“Thanks.” I was being ironic. I really badly wished to sleep. He heard the irony and chuckled.

“Emma,” he said, his voice sounded raw. “I’m so glad you’re back now. You were kidnapped.”

“I know.” I was tired. Why was he telling me things that I knew? I wanted to shout at him for that alone, but I was too tired.

“You’re here, now,” Alex was saying. His hand stroked my hair and I bit my lower lip and wished he would avoid the tender place. He did so, if closely. “I had to promise the kids I’d bring you in. They’re beside themselves. They keep thinking you’re going to die like…”

“Like.”

I made it a statement, not a question. He sighed. “I thought I told you?”

“No.” I was angry, actually. I simply didn’t have the energy or I would have shouted it at him. But I didn’t, so I didn’t.

“Well,” he said, “I had a wife. You knew that…Jack and Cammi’s mom. Remember?”

I tried to make an affirmative noise, but my whole head hurt, and so I nodded. Yes.

“Well, she was my first wife. I married her. They shot her. Years later, after the company really went big.”

“What?” Even in my complete exhaustion, I had enough energy for that statement. I had no idea his first wife had died. That she had been shot by the same people who took me seemed uncanny. What did they get from doing such horrible things to the wives or friends of Alexander Carring?

“They shot her like they planned to do to you,” he said quietly. “I couldn’t let that happen and I wouldn’t. I came here straight away.”

I felt sobered. They were not just making empty threats. They really had meant to end my life. I felt really scared and I reached for his hand with my aching one and held it fast.

“It’s okay.”

I felt him stroke my hair again and again. He kept on repeating those words and when I did fall asleep I fell asleep with understanding.

It took three days for me to be well enough to get out of bed in the morning. But eventually I managed it. I held his arm and together we made a tour of the sitting room, starting at the crackling fire to the door at the other end of the hall. Then, as we sat side by side in front of the fireplace, me snuggling up closer, he told me.

“When I was married for a few years, I started making serious wealth,” he explained slowly. “I bought other companies. Sometimes, during the mergers, people lost their jobs. Sometimes the people who had owned the companies were not satisfied. Sometimes companies had managers who didn’t like my ideas and so they were retrenched.”

I saw where this was heading. “They resented you.”

He nodded. I felt it even though my eyes were closed. My head was on his chest and even the richness of his voice filled me.

“Yes, they did.” He nodded again, then picked up his story. “Two people at a phone company lost their jobs because of me. I wouldn’t have believed it possible but they made a gang. They were terrible at their work, apparently. But they still got the jobs, and so they should not have hated, but they did.”

I felt my hand tighten at that statement. “They shot your wife? From jealousy?”

I must have sounded absolutely horrified. I was.

He gave another hollow chuckle. “I had actually offered them other things. I tried to get down to the bottom of this, but they weren’t buying.”

“They hated you,” I said softly. I knew, now, that I had been right in what I had heard. The leader would do anything to Alex to get him.

“Right…” I whispered. I wanted to tell him he was right, but I wasn’t sure he had understood me. All I knew was that my head was aching and I felt sick and very sleepy and I knew I was dozing again.

“They wanted to kill me,” I whispered.

The laugh was brief and dry. “You.” He sighed. “They wanted to destroy me first Make me destroy all I had built up.” he sighed. I heard his voice wobble. “I should have done it,” he said, and he really was crying. His face was soaked in tears and I could feel them on my one shoulder and he still rocked, crying. “If I had done as they asked, if I had destroyed everything, they would have immediately left her alone. They said so.”

“No,” I said. I stroked the side of his face. I knew now that was not true. That was not what they had told me. The leader planned to end my life and he always had. He hated Alexander.

“No?” He stopped sobbing.

“Alex,” I said. This time I found the strength to turn a little so that I could face him directly. “I was there. I know they planned to kill her always. They were going to kill me. You didn’t have to give them anything. They would have killed me. They would also have destroyed you.”

“Emma?” he said, and he had shifted so he looked directly into my eyes, long legs folded under him where he sat with his knees on the floor before me.

“Uh?”

“If they had killed you, they would have destroyed me anyway. Emma! How can you not know how I love you?”

I stared. My head ached, but even on a day when I was perfectly healthy that would make no sense. He loved me? Alexander loved me? Alexander Carring?

“You…love me?”

He laughed again. “You silly woman!” he said, ruffling my hair in a teasing kind of manner. “how could you possibly not see that?”

I laughed. He laughed. We kissed. We sat there all afternoon, talking to each other, reassuring each other that we were not going to disappear. That it really was okay now.

We slept together in the big bed. Later, when I woke and the first light touched me, we made love, then we slid out of bed and sat in front of the fireplace.

“I can’t believe you are okay,” Alex said, something he had said over and over again for the last day or so. I laughed.

“Yes, I am okay,” I said, and kissed his cheek.

While we sat there he explained what had happened between my captivity and his finding me. He had called a security firm that helped him find my location: a disused warehouse on the outskirts of town. They had found me. They had sat for a long while deciding how to save me.

“I was all for the suggestion of blowing the place off the map. But then, that would have hit you and that would have been the worst thing. So we just came inside.”

He explained how there were explosives in the cellar at his home. It had been a collection he saw and bought purely for interest, not because he actually wanted them. He and his helper, someone called Klaas, had set them against one wall and blown it in. Then they had come in and saved my life.

“Emma,” he said again, stroking my hair. “Emma, I can’t lose you.”

We dozed again with each other held in a firm grasp. We had made our choice.

Epilogue

We were married in a private ceremony. Alex had wanted it in some exotic place or other, but I wanted it where my friends could be there. So we had it just outside town. The kids had attended. Of everyone there, they were the only ones who seemed as if they had known all along.

“You might have thought they planned it,” we chuckled that night as we lay in bed together.

He laughed. “I know. They kept telling me they always knew. I don’t know how.”

I smiled. “Well, they’re very smart kids, you know,” I paused, kissing him on the side of his face, “and they get some of that from you.”

“Some of it?” He roared with laughter. “All of it, probably.”

He kissed me and we were silent a while.

I snuggled in closer to him, thoughts alive with the memory of our lovemaking from the previous night: how passionate and tender it had been, how loving.

“Emma,” he whispered, breathing into my hair. “I want you. We could…”

I giggled.

He grew quiet and I waited for him to say something. I had such excitement building in me.

“Emma?”

“Mm?”

“What were you going to say?”

I smiled, then. I couldn’t help it. I was so, so elated. “Well,” I paused, unsure of how to begin. I had no idea, but I decided to say it straight. “Well, I’m going to have a baby.”

Deathly hush. Then,

“Emma?”

“Uh huh?”

“You’re really sure?” he said hesitantly. “How do you know? I mean…”

I laughed, then. “How do I know? Alex, don’t be daft.”

He ruffled my hair, breathing his warm breath into the roots of it as he chuckled again.

“I don’t believe it!” he said, and his face was split with happiness. “Emma. Really?” he laughed. “Okay, okay! I surrender. Anyone who didn’t was certainly going to have something happen to them.”

“Yes.”

He laughed. “Emma,” he sighed, “you are so wonderful.”

I smiled. “What will we call her?”

“If she’s a girl? Emma.”

I paused. That hadn’t been the name I was thinking of. I had another idea. A better idea. “I don’t know,” I said hesitantly. I wasn’t sure what he’d think of my idea, but I’d ask him anyway. “I was thinking instead…”

“Ada.”

We said it together. His eyes filled with tears and so did mine. I nodded. “Exactly.”

And so that was what we did. We had Ada. We lived together and we loved and laughed. And later, we started a charity. A shelter for the unemployed, where they could go and find counseling and aid to find them placement in jobs. A place for those who had been disenfranchised by big companies and retrenchments and unfortunate happenings. So no one would have to join gangs and become violent and full of hate. We called it Project Ada.

Now, we have wonderful days. Every day has its own quiet happiness. We sit together in the evenings and we laugh and Cammi surprises us with her innate flair for acting and Jack with his astute mind. Ada is talking now and she, too, makes us smile. My life is full and happy and full of love.

Because there are no limits on the human heart except those we choose to put there. And when we choose to take them off, that is when the magic really happens.