Millionaire's Woman

by Helen Brooks

  She sat, trying to ignore the dull ache in the region of her heart that his last words had produced. She wanted to stay mad at him. She needed to stay mad at him. By his own admission he had been cruel last night. How could he say he had been like that because he cared about her?

  Her parents had never had sufficient interest in her to tell her any home truths, either as a child or a young woman.

  The thought hit her with the force of a ten ton truck. She couldn’t remember a time when they had actually focused on her or got angry with her like Nick had done last night, she thought sickly. They had spoken sharply many times, usually to send her back to her room if she had left it for too long or if she was asking for their attention over something or other. But to take time to think about her or worry about her or even wonder why she behaved the way she did just hadn’t been in their scheme of things. They hadn’t cared enough.

  She sat quite still, the tea cooling in her hand. Nick had said he cared. He’d also said he loved her before he had gone to Germany. But what exactly did he mean by that? How much? How much did he care?

  With the tea now quite cold she got out of bed and carried the cup into the bathroom, tipping the contents down the basin. When she raised her head she caught sight of herself in the mirror and immediately any other thought was swept away by the sight of the scarecrow looking back at her. Her face was pale except for her eyes, which were faintly puffy and red-rimmed. Her hair gave the impression she had been pulled through a hedge backwards.

  Whatever had he thought? She groaned. Even in her worst days at home she looked better than this.

  Once she had showered and put a little light moisturising cream on her face she applied some careful make-up, which improved things no end. She brushed the tangles out of her hair with the help of a leave-in conditioner, looping it into a high ponytail once it was smooth and wavy.

  Better. She inspected the result as she sprayed a dab of perfume on each wrist and the back of her neck. Much better.

  Once in the bedroom she dressed swiftly in a sleeveless linen shift, sliding her feet into a pair of flip-flops and fixing small silver studs in her ears. She glanced into the fulllength mirror by the bed. Casual, cool, without appearing to have taken too much effort. As a damage control exercise it would have to do. She took a deep breath. Now to face Nick downstairs.

  He was sitting in the breakfast room, its French doors open to the fresh scents from the garden and a row of covered dishes at one end of the big pine table. He looked up as she entered, throwing the newspaper he had been reading to one side as he rose to his feet.

  He had waited to eat with her. She felt a glow of pleasure out of proportion to the act of courtesy.

  ‘Hi,’ he said, very quietly. ‘How about we start over again?’

  She stared at him. ‘Yes, please.’

  ‘Does that mean shopping and lunch later?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Good.’ He grinned at her. ‘I thought I was going to have a fight on my hands. I wouldn’t have let you go, you know.’

  She wanted to ask him why but she dared not. ‘I still don’t think you put it very well,’ she said, determined to have her say before they put it behind them. ‘And that remark about William was uncalled for. But overall…’ She hesitated.

  ‘Overall?’

  ‘There was some truth in what you said.’

  ‘Thank you.’ The grin widened. ‘That was hellishly hard to say, wasn’t it?’ he added sympathetically.

  She didn’t trust the sympathy any more than she trusted her weakness where his charm was concerned. ‘Hellishly,’ she agreed crisply, determined not to smile. ‘Could I have some juice, please?’

  ‘Help yourself.’ He waved a hand at the table. Besides the covered dishes there was a mountain of toast, preserves, a jug of freshly squeezed orange juice and a pot of coffee.

  Cory suddenly found she was ravenously hungry and more happy than she would have dreamt herself being an hour ago. She filled her plate with scrambled egg, bacon, mushrooms and crisp hash browns, sitting down and beginning to eat with gusto.

  Nick had done the same although his plate was filled with twice as much. She had just put a particularly succulent mushroom in her mouth when she sensed his gaze on her. She looked up. ‘What?’

  ‘I’m so glad you’re not one of those women who push the food round on their plate for half an hour, or sit with a nice juicy something on their fork while they talk on and on,’ he said appreciatively. ‘The times I’ve wanted to lean across and tell a woman to get on with her food.’

  She frowned at him. ‘How rude.’

  He chuckled softly. ‘I’ve never claimed that patience is one of my virtues.’

  And yet he had been terribly patient with her in the last couple of months since they’d met.

  Her face must have betrayed something because now it was Nick who said interestedly, ‘What?’

  ‘Nothing.’ She wasn’t about to give him any accolades after last night. He might be right in essence about William but she hadn’t quite forgiven him for pointing it out so brutally. And she definitely didn’t agree with the victim bit.

  It was a new experience for Cory to go shopping with a man and she found she loved it, probably because the man in question was Nick, she admitted to herself ruefully. It was nice shopping too—not trundling around a busy supermarket or anything like that.

  She purchased a fairly generic card for Nick’s mother, and then watched with concealed amazement as he scanned all the different verses in the ‘son to mother’ cards on display. The one he eventually chose was surprisingly sentimental.

  ‘She places a lot of importance on the words,’ he said somewhat defensively as they walked out of the shop. ‘She always maintains the best ones were the cards we made ourselves when we were children. She’s kept them all.’

  Cory smiled and said something appropriate but his words had hurt her. She would have given anything for a mother like that.

  She hadn’t let Nick call his mother and ask her what she wanted that morning before they had left the house. ‘She would love a surprise,’ she’d told him firmly. ‘All women do. And not anything practical. OK?’

  And so here they were after just an hour, with Nick having bought an elegant Louis XVI-style chair and matching footstool made from kiln-cured beech, the fabric being cream linen with velvet leaf appliqué. Nick had assured her his mother would go ape for the chair and had paid a hefty charge for it to be immediately delivered. ‘She’s been looking for something like this for her bedroom for years,’ he said with a great deal of satisfaction. ‘She’ll love it. Trust me.’

  Cory’s comfort was rooted in the fact that the chair and footstool would at least be a surprise.

  She had opted for a pair of exquisitely fashioned silver earrings from a small jeweller’s in the heart of Barnstaple. The tear-shaped drops were inset with onyx, the semiprecious agate used to dramatic effect against the precious metal.

  Nick had approved of her choice with reservations, as she had with his.

  Later that afternoon he dropped the bombshell that they were in fact expected to attend a family party in honour of his mother’s sixtieth birthday. They were sitting enjoying a relaxing cup of coffee in an enchanting little patisserie at the time. ‘Nothing formal,’ he assured her when her countenance changed dramatically. ‘Just a casual get-together this evening.’

  ‘How casual?’ she demanded, her brain immediately doing an inventory of the clothes she had brought with her.

  ‘Nibbles, drinks, dancing.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘At a local hotel.’

  She wondered if the owners of the little patisserie had ever had a man strangled in their establishment.

  The next hour was spent in a frantic search which yielded a black and silver asymmetric dress in silk linen, which went perfectly with the black ankle-strap sandals she had thrown into her case at the last moment.

  They arrived back at the house at s
ix-thirty and were due at the hotel for drinks with the immediate family before the other guests started arriving at seven-forty-five.

  Cory tore up to her room like a mad thing, clutching the bag with the dress in it. She had less than an hour to transform herself into an elegant creature of the kind usually seen on Nick’s arm.

  She was back downstairs at seven-fifteen; made-up, coiffured and feeling a lot more confident in the black and silver silk linen than she would have done in the smartcasual dress she had brought with her for evenings.

  She found she had to take a deep breath at the sight of Nick. He had dressed up in black dinner jacket and tie. He had been sitting waiting for her in the hall, one leg crossed over the other knee, and now he stood up at her approach. The blue eyes stroked over her in a way that made her hot.

  ‘You look good enough to eat,’ he said softly. ‘But the taxi’s arrived so I’ll have to restrain myself.’

  ‘Pity.’ She smiled brightly. ‘But we don’t want to keep your family waiting, do we?’

  She’d decided she would emulate his other women tonight. She was going to be sophisticated and vivacious, carefree. The dress had cost more than she would have ideally liked, but when she’d slipped it on earlier a certain devil-may-care attitude had come with it. She was tired of being herself; she wanted to be someone else for a change. Nick had accused her of being childish and it had rankled. Tonight she’d show him she was very much a woman.

  ‘Remembered the present?’ he asked her as he opened the front door.

  ‘It’s in my handbag.’ The jeweller’s had wrapped the earrings beautifully.

  ‘Then we’re set.’ He smiled at her, taking her arm as they walked to the waiting taxi. Just for a moment she saw them as an outsider would see them. A wealthy and handsome man with a well-dressed woman on his arm. Elegant, glittering, the sort of couple who had everything. Funny how different things could be from what they appeared on the surface.

  Once in the taxi Nick pulled her close, his arm round her shoulders. It was a nice way to travel, more than nice. She could detect the hint of primitive musky male beneath the clean, sharp aftershave he was wearing. It was a heady combination.

  He must have appreciated her perfume because after a few minutes he said huskily, ‘What’s that scent you’ve got on tonight?’

  It had been an expensive Christmas present from Aunt Joan and she didn’t wear it often. ‘Why?’ She turned her head to look up at him. ‘Don’t you like it?’

  He took her hand and placed it on the hard ridge in his trousers. ‘Need I say more?’

  ‘Nick.’ He had shocked her and it showed. So much for the cool sophistication.

  He chuckled and she knew he’d got the result he wanted. ‘You’re beautiful, Cory, inside and out,’ he said softly. ‘And the wonder of it is you really don’t think so.’

  ‘I’m not beautiful.’

  ‘You are.’ He kissed her. ‘Like a rare orchid or a precious stone.’ Another kiss. ‘Or a shooting star that leaves a trail of silver.’ His lips were warm and erotic. ‘Or a cactus flower that only blooms every few years.’

  She wrinkled her nose. ‘Cactus are spiky.’

  ‘I know.’ His smile was gentle. ‘But the flower is worth waiting for.’ This time he took her lips in a soul-stealing kiss that made her weak at the knees.

  When she had regained her breath, she said, ‘Do you think your mother will like me, Nick?’

  She hadn’t meant to ask but it had bothered her all day. She had been wondering how many women had been introduced to his mother and whether any of them had been particular favourites with Mrs Morgan.

  ‘No, she won’t like you,’ he said softly. ‘She’ll love you, like I do. They all will.’

  She stared at him, her eyes wide.

  He held her gaze. ‘Do you believe that?’ he said quietly as the taxi sped on through the late August evening. ‘That I love you?’

  She hadn’t expected this now, not here. But Nick was the sort of guy who was full of surprises. Unable to speak for the violent pounding of her heart, she settled for a slight nod of the head.

  ‘That’s an improvement on the last time I said it.’ He ducked his head to nibble at her earlobe. ‘It’s still not the response I’m looking for,’ he said after a moment or two when she had to bite her tongue to stop herself moaning out loud, ‘but it’s an improvement.’

  Just then the taxi bumped over a hole in the road and they were thrown even closer together, his arms tightening as her rounded curves pressed against his hardness. ‘Do you think we’d be missed if I told him just to keep driving all night?’ Nick murmured in her ear.

  ‘Possibly.’ But she was game if he was.

  When the taxi drew up outside the sort of hotel that featured in glossy magazines, Cory’s nerves jangled. Meeting his family en masse suddenly seemed like torture. She found herself clutching Nick’s arm so hard he actually winced, at which point she let go. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘The others’ll be in the lounge bar,’ Nick said quietly once he’d paid the driver and they were standing outside. He tucked her hand through his arm. ‘Now relax, OK?’

  ‘I don’t think I can,’ she said shortly.

  ‘It’s no big deal.’ He turned her round to face him with his hands on her shoulders. ‘They’ll love you, Cory. I know they will. But even if they didn’t it wouldn’t make any difference to us. I’m a big boy now, in case you haven’t noticed. I don’t have to ask for my family’s approval on my girlfriends.’

  She knew that but it didn’t help because she so wanted them to like her. She lifted her chin and now it was she who slipped her arm through his. ‘Come on,’ she said evenly. ‘We don’t want to be late.’

  When they walked into the lounge bar it was immediately obvious where the Morgan contingent was by the calls and waves that met them. ‘This is Cory,’ Nick said as they approached the corner where three tables had been drawn together.

  She smiled at the blur of faces and everyone smiled back, then Nick was kissing his mother and sisters and after a moment or two there were introductions all round. Nick’s mother wasn’t at all as Cory had expected from his description. Instead of a somewhat fierce Amazon, a small, dainty and very beautiful woman smiled at her, kissing her on both cheeks before she said, ‘Cory, how lovely to meet you. I’m so glad you could come.’

  His sisters were equally warm in their welcome, Jenny proving to be a carbon copy of her mother whereas Rosie was big, stolid and hearty. So was her husband, a tall blond man with red cheeks, whereas Jenny’s husband was slim to the point of boyishness with floppy shoulder-length hair and an easy grin.

  The only person who didn’t seem pleased to see Cory was a voluptuous redhead whom Nick’s mother introduced as, ‘Margaret, my god-daughter. Margaret’s a lecturer at Leeds University and doing awfully well.’

  Margaret’s handshake was cool, her smile more so, but Cory noticed it hotted up a good few degrees when the redhead turned her lovely green eyes on Nick. ‘Nick, darling.’ The voice was upper-class and well modulated. And warm, very warm. ‘Why haven’t you called me lately, you naughty boy?’

  Cory kept her smile in place with some effort. So that was how things were? This woman liked Nick. In fact, from the way she was devouring him with her eyes, Margaret liked Nick very much. She watched as Nick gave the other woman a perfunctory kiss on the cheek, much as he had done with his sisters, before moving on to shake the hands of his brothers-in-law.

  ‘Darling, my beautiful chair and stool. I love them, they’re perfect. And what a surprise. I couldn’t believe it when Hannigan’s van drew up and the man said it was a special delivery for me.’ Nick’s mother reached up and kissed him, her eyes glowing. It was clear she was thrilled.

  Nick’s face was full of love as he looked down at the diminutive woman in front of him. ‘I’m glad you like them,’ he said softly. ‘But the surprise part was Cory’s idea. I was going to ring up and ask what you wanted.’

  ‘Happ
y birthday, Mrs Morgan.’ Cory handed Nick’s mother the small package from her handbag along with her card.

  ‘Oh, call me Catherine,’ Nick’s mother said, touching Cory’s arm in a quick, friendly gesture before taking the gift. ‘May I open it now?’

  ‘Please do.’ Cory would rather she’d waited until there wasn’t quite such an audience, but as the tiny box revealed its contents Nick’s mother was delighted. ‘They are exactly what I would have chosen,’ she said warmly. ‘How did you know? I’ve always been a bit of a gypsy,’ she added in an undertone to Cory, ‘and I just love dangly earrings. These go perfectly with what I’m wearing tonight.’ So saying, she whipped out her present earrings and substituted the ones Cory had bought, moving her head slightly so that the teardrops swayed against the line of her jaw.

  ‘Looks like we both chose well,’ Nick whispered in Cory’s ear a moment or two later. He had just ordered champagne cocktails all round.

  She nodded. ‘Your mother’s lovely,’ she said quietly. ‘You’re very lucky, Nick.’

  ‘I know it.’ He was looking into her eyes as he spoke and his voice was deep and soft.

  The next moment Cory became aware of Margaret at their side. All the others had sat down again and now, as Rosie reached out and touched Cory’s arm, asking her if she had been to Barnstaple before in an obvious effort to be friendly, Cory had no choice but to smile at Nick’s sister and take the seat Rosie patted beside her.

  All the time she was talking to Nick’s sister she was vitally aware of the two people at the perimeter of her vision, however. Nick appeared to be his usual relaxed self from the odd glance she managed to throw his way, but Margaret seemed to be talking very intensely, her voice low but her body language suggesting it wasn’t a normal conversation.

  After a few minutes Nick took the seat on Cory’s other side, putting his arm round her shoulders as he leant across to join in the discussion she and Rosie were having about the advantages and disadvantages of being near the coast. Cory welcomed his nearness; she had felt a bit odd talking to Rosie with Nick and Margaret so intent on each other.