The Tycoon's Instant Family

by Caroline Anderson

  ‘She’ll be fine. Georgie, what’s the matter? Is it tomorrow?’

  She laughed and closed her eyes, shaking her head. ‘I just have no idea how you live—what you do, what makes you tick. How your day works.’

  ‘Like yours, I imagine. I go to bed, I get up, I go to work, I get home, I cook a meal or if I can’t avoid it I go out for dinner, and I go to bed. If I’m really lucky, it’s my own and not in the company apartment in New York or a hotel in Osaka or Shanghai or Timbuktu.’

  His voice was light, but there was an underlying thread of something she recognised. She put her hand on his arm, rubbed it lightly without thinking. ‘You make it sound awful.’

  ‘It is awful. I hate it. I’m sick of it.’

  ‘So why do it?’

  He laughed softly. ‘Because I don’t have any choice. Because I have a business to run, and people depending on me, and I can’t just cop out and skive off.’

  ‘You did this afternoon—and you’re doing it tomorrow.’

  His eyes softened. ‘Yes. I did today—and I will tomorrow. For you. Come here.’

  He folded her into his arms and hugged her. ‘You smell gorgeous—shampoo and perfume and Georgie. Fabulous.’ He kissed her lingeringly on the lips, then eased away with a sigh and handed her a glass of wine. ‘Here, wrap yourself round that while I finish off the supper. I take it nothing in the fridge was reserved for anything special?’

  She shook her head. ‘Only for you coming.’

  His smile melted her heart. ‘Thank you.’ He gave her a little push. ‘Go and sit down at the table and stop distracting me.’

  So she sat at the table with her flowers in pride of place in the centre and Archie leaning against her leg and gazing adoringly at Nick, and together they watched him chop and slice and sliver, using the cheese slicer to make ribbons of courgette and carrot which he steamed in a sieve over a pan of water with a few mangetout peas while he flashed the salmon steaks in butter and lime juice and checked the baby new potatoes with a fork.

  The smells were mouth-watering, and by the time he’d served it up and set it down in front of her she was ready to marry him.

  And that was a shocking thought. So shocking that for a moment she couldn’t move. Couldn’t eat, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t even look at him, because it had just hit her with all the subtlety of an express train.

  He picked up his wine glass and held it out to her. ‘To us,’ he said softly, and she picked up her glass and touched it to his, and echoed,

  ‘To us,’ but her smile was automatic and the wine could have been water.

  She was in love with Nick Barron, and nothing in her life was ever going to feel the same again…

  CHAPTER FOUR

  HER father’s operation went without a hitch, and after it was over and he was back on the ward, Nick took her home and fed her and hugged her while she cried, then they went down to the site with Archie and talked about it some more, then went for a walk along the prom and had coffee in her favourite café while Archie sat patiently outside and waited for them to stop being boring and take him for another walk.

  Which they did, because the tide was out by then and they could get almost all the way round the point, scrambling over the rocks that were piled against the old sea wall to stop the constant erosion.

  ‘Can you ever get all the way round?’ he asked, and she nodded.

  ‘Sometimes, if it’s a very low tide and you catch it right, but not usually. And it’s slippery and dangerous—not that that ever stopped me. I used to climb the sea wall when I was a kid and work my way round over the waves, but the rocks weren’t here then and it was safer if you fell. You just got wet.’

  He looked at the ten-foot-high sea wall and whistled softly. ‘It hasn’t got any hand- or footholds.’

  ‘Oh, it has,’ she said. ‘If you do it in bare feet it’s OK.’ And the daredevil in her kicked off her shoes, tugged off her socks and scaled the wall with ease, leaving him open-mouthed and laughing at the bottom. She turned and grinned down at him, victorious, and chanted, ‘I’m the king of the castle,’ and he stood there with his hands on his hips, shaking his head at her and smiling while Archie leapt at the wall and whined, desperate to join her. Which was more than could be said for Nick.

  He shaded his eyes and looked up at her. ‘You’re mad, woman. For God’s sake, come down before you fall.’

  ‘I won’t fall,’ she said confidently. ‘It’s not that high, Nick.’

  ‘No—it’s just featureless! How the hell can you stay up there?’

  She laughed. ‘Oh, this is easy. Hanging my bra from the lightning conductor on the dome on top of the tower at my school was much more of a challenge.’

  He shuddered. ‘You must be a spider. I knew there was something strange about you.’

  ‘Sticky pads on the hands and feet,’ she said with a grin, slithering back down and landing lightly on the rock beside him. ‘Just do me a favour and don’t ever tell my father what I used to get up to—he’d have a fit.’

  ‘I’m sure,’ Nick said drily. ‘I should imagine you were a real handful to bring up.’

  ‘Not really,’ she said, dusting off her feet and tugging her socks and shoes back on. ‘I just made sure they had no idea what I was up to. Much easier.’

  ‘Hmm. I didn’t employ that principle until I was much older.’

  ‘And I bet you were much worse.’

  ‘But different.’

  ‘What? Fast cars? Women? Drugs?’

  ‘Never drugs.’

  But he didn’t deny the others, and she could imagine him as a young man, a daredevil with the girls flocking round him, begging him to take his pick. She was absurdly jealous of them all.

  They turned back, strolling side by side, Nick holding out his hand for her and steadying her on the slippery rocks, then not letting go after they reached the safety of the sand again. They went down to the water’s edge, on the firm, hard sand, and skimmed pebbles on the flat surface of the sea. And he beat her.

  ‘Well, I’ve got to be good at something,’ he said with a smile, and she thought of the searing kiss he’d given her by the hot tub on Wednesday night, and just knew that skimming pebbles wasn’t the only thing.

  ‘My mother used to be good at this,’ she said, hefting a little flat pebble in her hand and refusing to let herself think about his kisses. ‘She used to win all the time.’

  She brushed the sand off her hands, the memory touching her with sadness, and he threaded his fingers through hers and started strolling back up the beach again.

  ‘You’ve never mentioned her before,’ he said quietly. ‘What happened to her?’

  ‘She died five years ago.’ Funny how it still hurt so much, even after all this time. ‘She had cancer. We only knew for a few weeks before she died, but it was horrible to watch.’

  His fingers tightened slightly, squeezing hers. ‘I’m sorry. I know how that feels. My father died of MS when I was ten. That was pretty dreadful, but I grew up with it and I suppose it happened so gradually I just got used to it. My friends found it harder to deal with than I did. I just took the bedpans and so forth for granted. They were part of life, but it was awful to watch him suffer, and it was a relief when he died. Then we only had the guilt to deal with.’

  His smile was wry and twisted, and she pulled him to a halt and hugged him. ‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured, and he sighed and hugged her back.

  ‘Me, too. Life’s a bitch, et cetera.’ He let her go, sliding his hand down her arm and threading his fingers through hers again. ‘So—any brothers or sisters?’

  ‘One brother, David, in Australia. He’s into surfing, and decided he might as well go where it was good. Dad hoped he’d go into the business, but he was never interested. What about you?’

  ‘One sister—bit of a loose cannon. She’s got two boys from different relationships, neither of them in touch with their fathers, and the last I heard she’d broken up with her wealthy Brazilian boyfriend,
is pregnant again and coming to live with my mother not far from here—just the other side of Framlingham, but how they’ll all fit in my mother’s tiny cottage I have no idea. She’s an artist, and the idea of Lucie’s two little tearaways rampaging through her studio makes me wince.’

  Georgie laughed. ‘Sounds horrific. Poor woman.’

  ‘Oh, she loves them all to bits, but it’ll drive her mad after a while. It always does. It won’t last. I give it three weeks before I have to go in there and mediate!’

  Laughing, they made their way back to her car, Archie sopping wet and covered in sand, and Nick looked at him and raised a brow.

  ‘Glad it’s your car,’ he said, and she chuckled.

  ‘I had good reasons for bringing it,’ she told him, and, clipping Archie back into his harness on the back seat, she drove back to the house.

  ‘I ought to go back and see Dad,’ she said, worrying her lip, and he glanced at his watch.

  ‘It’s nearly five. I need to give Tory a ring, and then do you want me to drive you?’

  She did, but she didn’t want to seem needy and pathetic. It was just that the sight of her father lying there smothered in tubes and wires—

  ‘Georgie, it’s no big deal. If I don’t drive you I’ll come with you, unless you’d rather I didn’t, in which case I’ll follow you, but I’m not leaving you. Not now. Not unless you ask me to.’

  She shook her head. ‘Sorry, not a chance. I’d love you to drive me. And when we get back we ought to have another look at the plans.’

  But they didn’t. It was past ten by the time they arrived home, and while he made a couple of phone calls she took Archie for a quick walk round the block. When she went back in, he handed her a glass of wine, hung up the dog’s lead and took her into the sitting room. He’d lit the fire—only a gas one, a coal-effect thing that had real flickering flames, but it made the room cheery on a chilly night, and it was yet another thoughtful touch.

  He sat down at one end of the sofa and patted the cushion beside him. ‘Come here,’ he commanded softly, and she snuggled up against him, sipping her wine and staring into the flickering flames, emotionally drained.

  ‘He looked awful, didn’t he?’

  ‘He’ll be fine, Georgie. They said he’s doing really well. The first few days were bound to be rough.’

  ‘He’s just always been so strong, so fit. It’s such a shock to see him like that.’

  ‘He’ll soon be stronger. You wait and see.’

  ‘Mmm.’ She sipped her wine, snuggled closer and wondered what this week would have been like without him. It was Friday. She’d met him on Monday, when he’d wiped out their debt at a stroke, seen him again with the rough plans on Wednesday, almost fallen into bed with him, and now forty-eight hours later she was curled up with him in front of the fire, her father’s operation had apparently been a success, and she couldn’t imagine life without Nick.

  Just like that, her life had been transformed, with him at the heart of it. Without him the bank would have foreclosed, her father would have been recovering from his operation with bankruptcy proceedings in the offing, and what that would have done to him she couldn’t even begin to think.

  She turned her head and looked up at him, and he glanced down and smiled.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, her voice so choked she could hardly speak. ‘Thank you for everything you’ve done.’

  ‘Oh, Georgie,’ he said softly, and, taking her wine and setting it down on the table, he shifted so he was lying beside her, his arms around her holding her close, and his lips brushed hers tenderly.

  ‘I don’t know what we would have done—’

  ‘Shh. You would have been all right.’

  ‘No. No, Nick, we wouldn’t. Without you—’

  ‘But you aren’t without me, so don’t think about it.’

  ‘I can’t help it—’

  ‘Then I’m not doing my job properly,’ he murmured, and his lips found hers, sealing in her protest and driving everything except him right out of her mind…

  The next few weeks flew by.

  The plans were passed by a relieved planning committee who were glad to see the changes and admitted to having had reservations with the previous scheme, and the hideous extension on the back of the house had gone.

  So had her hopes of having the tower house, but her father was home, growing stronger by the day, and he was delighted with the new scheme too, so things were looking up hugely.

  And every time she wanted an answer to a query, she phoned Nick or asked him when she saw him, which was most weekends.

  At first he’d come up to her, staying in the spare room and entertaining her father, looking over the site, ironing out minor queries. Then, as her father grew stronger, she was able to go down to London for the weekend. Just for Saturday night because she didn’t like to leave her father for longer, but they were growing closer by the day, and she’d stopped wondering what Nick saw in her and started to believe that he really did care.

  She wondered what they’d do. Would he take her out for dinner? Would they eat in his apartment?

  Would they become lovers?

  Yes. If he suggested it, she knew they would. She’d thought, after Martin, that she’d never have another relationship as long as she lived, but Nick was so different, so open and honest and funny, utterly straightforward. She trusted him. That was the difference—and it made all the difference.

  ‘I hope you’ve got party clothes in that bag,’ he said when he picked her up. ‘We’re going out tonight to a friend’s party—I’d forgotten about it, but it’s been booked for ages and it’s only round the corner. We just need to stick our heads in.’

  Oh. So, not a nice, quiet night in, dallying in the hot tub, then. She felt a twinge of disappointment, but in fact it was fun, and they did a lot more than stick their heads in.

  The party was in a neighbouring apartment block and it was in full swing by the time they arrived at ten, after a leisurely dinner. He ushered her in, arm around her shoulders in a proprietorial gesture she found curiously touching, and, steering her through the crowd with a few words of greeting here and there, he took her over to meet Tory, his PA.

  ‘Tory, look after Georgie while I get her a drink, and don’t tell her anything too dreadful about me,’ he threatened, and left them alone together.

  ‘So you’re Georgie,’ Tory said with a grin, and hugged her. ‘I have to thank you—you’ve turned Nick into a reasonable human being again. He’d been getting really grouchy, and just recently I’ve even caught him whistling. So good on you. Well done. And I love the new plans, by the way. Soooooo much better! And talking of better, how’s your father?’

  She laughed, caught up in Tory’s infectious, bubbly mood and blown away by her welcome. ‘Much better, thanks. Improving every day. I’m sorry I stole Nick from you at such short notice when he was having his op.’

  Tory flapped her hand dismissively. ‘I can cope, he knows that. I just whinge a bit if he does it too often, but to be honest he’s so much easier to deal with now it’s a small price to pay. I hope you’re going to stick around.’

  Georgie was amazed. She didn’t know what she’d expected of Tory, but this pretty, dynamic young woman with crazy hair and sparkling eyes wasn’t it. For a moment she wondered if she should be jealous, but then Tory introduced her to their host, a guy called Simon Darcy, and one look at the sizzle between them put all such thoughts out of her mind. And anyway, Tory sounded as if she wanted Georgie to stay in Nick’s life—something she was more than happy to do!

  ‘You OK?’

  She turned and smiled up at him. ‘Fine. I’ve just been getting the low-down on you from Tory.’

  ‘I don’t doubt it,’ he said drily, and shook Simon’s hand. ‘Hi there. Good party.’

  ‘Glad you could make it. And it’s good to meet the woman who’s tamed you. It’s about time,’ Simon said with a chuckle, and Georgie blinked.

  Tamed him? Her?

/>   Nick’s arm closed around her shoulders and he grinned. ‘You can talk. Let’s get one thing clear. I don’t care what you and Tory get up to out of office hours, she’s my PA and you can’t have her!’

  ‘I might make her an offer she can’t refuse,’ Simon said, and Tory laughed and sparkled up at him, and Nick groaned.

  ‘Oh, no. Tory, don’t fall for it, he’s just pretending to like you so he can steal you from me. It’s all lies.’

  ‘But such pretty lies,’ she said, still sparkling. ‘And at least he appreciates me.’

  ‘I appreciate you!’

  Tory snuggled closer, her eyes bright with mischief. ‘Not like Simon.’

  Nick shook his head and turned to Georgie. ‘It’s sickening. Come on, let’s go and dance.’

  And that was it. She spent the rest of the evening in his arms, and if they weren’t dancing he had his arm firmly round her shoulders, hugging her against his side while they chatted to his friends. She could have stayed there forever like that, but just after midnight the music dropped down a gear, the lively dance music giving way to smoochy, sexy love songs, and with a sigh he drew her even closer, bending his head so they were cheek to cheek. His lips brushed her hair, sending shivers through her, and they were so close she could feel the steady, solid pounding of his heart under her ear.

  They hardly moved. Their weight shifted from foot to foot, their bodies so close they could have been one.

  Should have been one.

  And when Nick lifted his head and stared down into her eyes, the heat in them sent flames ripping through her body, depriving her of oxygen so she couldn’t speak. All she could do was nod, the tiniest movement of her head, but it was enough.

  They left without a word to anyone, her hand held firmly in his as he all but dragged her into the empty lift and hit the button for the ground floor before turning her into his arms and holding her hard against his chest in a tense and charged silence.

  He didn’t kiss her, didn’t really touch her except to hold her, but she could feel the tension in him, feel the pounding of his heart and the unmistakable pressure of his arousal, and her knees started to tremble. She needed him so much, had been waiting for this moment for weeks, but now it was here she started to fret.