by Penny Jordan
‘Marcus, Ricardo is planning to acquire Prêt a Party, and I’m afraid I may have made it easier for him to get the business at a lower price. You see—’
‘Carly, Ricardo has no intention of acquiring the business. In fact, when he telephoned me he made it plain that whilst he had at one stage contemplated doing so, his relationship with you had caused him to change his mind. He also said that you were concerned about Nick’s role within the business, specifically when it came to the financial side of things, and that it might be a good idea for me, as Lucy’s trustee, to look into it.’
Carly could hardly take in what he was saying.
‘But that’s not true,’ she protested. ‘He—’
‘I can assure you that it is true. In fact, Ricardo also told me that, because of your concern for Lucy and the business, he wondered if there might be some way that, between us he and I could put together a discreet rescue package, potentially with him using the services of Prêt a Party in connection with his business whilst I deal with the side of things relating to Lucy’s trust fund. We agreed that we would both give some thought to our options before making a final decision.
‘At that time I rather gained the impression that you and he…’ Marcus paused as Carly made a small shocked sound of distress, and then continued, ‘However, when he called in to tell me that you were likely to want to see me, he made no mention of your relationship. But he did ask me to give you this.’
Carly was too busy struggling to take in everything Marcus had told her to do anything more than glance vaguely at the small, neatly wrapped box Marcus had handed to her. There was one question she had to ask.
‘When…when exactly did Ricardo first telephone you?’
Marcus was frowning.
‘Let me have a look in my diary.’
He opened a large leather-bound desk diary and flicked through it.
‘Yes, here it is…’
Ricardo had spoken to Marcus before she had seen the papers on his desk. He had told Marcus then about her concern and his own decision not to go ahead with any acquisition because of his relationship with her. And she had accused him of lying to her, betraying her.
She was in the taxi Marcus had insisted on calling for her before she remembered the parcel he had given her. Shakily, she took it from her bag and opened it. Inside it was a cardboard box, and inside that was her Cartier watch.
Carly tried to focus on it through the tears blurring her vision, and then realised that beneath it was a note from Ricardo which read; ‘You left before I could return this to you.’
Nothing else. Just that. No words of love. But on the card was a handwritten address in London and a telephone number.
Initially he had misjudged her, but that had not stopped her loving him. Then she had misjudged him. Was his love for her strong enough to withstand that?
There was only one way she could find out.
Carly rapped on the glass panel separating her from the taxi driver. When he pulled it open, she told him she had changed her mind and gave him the address on Ricardo’s note.
She had paid off the taxi and now she was standing uncertainly in front of the imposing Georgian terraced house, its gold-tipped black railings glinting in the sunshine, and trying to remember the words she had rehearsed in the taxi on her way here. Words that would tell him how much she loved him, how much she wished she had listened to him and trusted him.
Would he allow her to say them?
Trying not to give way to the mixture of anxiety, dread, and longing leavened with hope that was gripping her body, Carly walked up the stone steps to the imposing black gloss-painted door, and rang the bell.
Seconds ticked by with no response. The street was empty. Like the house? Had she let her own feelings allow her to put an interpretation on Ricardo’s note he had never intended? Should she ring the bell again? It was a huge house and maybe no one had heard it the first time? Or maybe no one was there to hear it, she told herself. But she pressed the bell a second time and waited, whilst her heart thumped and the hope drained from her.
There was no point in her ringing a third time.
Carly walked back down the steps, oblivious to the fact that the reason she was struggling to see properly was because she was crying, oblivious too to the taxi turning into the street—until it screeched to a halt only feet away from her, causing her to freeze with shock.
‘Carly!’
Her shock turned to disbelief as the passenger door opened and Ricardo got out, immediately striding towards her.
The taxi driver was reversing and turning round, but Carly didn’t notice. She was in Ricardo’s arms and he was kissing her with all the passionate hunger and love she had been longing for since she had left him.
‘Come on. Let’s go inside,’ he told her huskily, keeping his arm round her as he guided her back up the stone steps.
‘Ricardo, I’m so sorry I refused to believe you. I—’
‘Shush,’ he told her tenderly as he unlocked the door and ushered her into the hallway.
Motes of dust danced in the sunlight coming through the fanlight, and an impressive staircase curled upwards from the black and white tiled floor. But Carly was oblivious to the elegance of her surroundings, feasting her gaze instead on Ricardo’s face.
How could she ever have thought she could live without him?
‘You bought my watch back for me,’ she whispered emotionally. ‘And you told Marcus you didn’t want to acquire the business because of me.’
‘I knew you would worry about Lucy if I did, and your happiness and peace of mind are far more important to me than any business acquisition. The reason those papers you found were on the desk was because I’d seen how upset you were about Nick and the cheques, and I know Marcus vaguely, and so I’d decided that maybe it was worth making contact with him, to see if between us we couldn’t do something that would set your mind at rest. I reasoned that since he was Lucy’s trustee he would want to protect her, just as I wanted to protect you.’
‘And then I accused you of trying to use me. I’m surprised you even want to see me again.’
‘Well, you shouldn’t be. Real love, true love, the kind of love I feel for you and you feel for me, is far stronger than pride—as you have proved by coming here to find me. Now, did Marcus tell you that I’m going to give Prêt a Party some business?’
‘What?’ said Carly blankly. ‘Well, yes…’
‘I’ve got several events in mind I can use them for, but the first and most important of them all is going to be our wedding.’
Carly looked up at him. ‘You want us to get married?’
Ricardo nodded his head.
‘I want us to get married; I want you to be my wife; I want you to be the mother of my children. You are my soulmate, Carly, and my life is of no value to me without you in it, at my side…But this is not the way or the place in which I had intended to propose to you.’
‘It isn’t?’
‘No. I wanted something far more romantic—something that would make up for all the unhappiness life has brought you and show you how much I love you. A room filled with roses, perhaps, or—’
Carly reached up and placed her finger against his lips.
‘I don’t need or want that, Ricardo. All I want is you, and your heart filled with love for me.’
‘Always,’ he told her softly, before bending his head to kiss her.
EXPECTING THE PLAYBOY’S HEIR
Penny Jordan
www.millsandboon.com.au
* * *
American tycoon Silas Carter to wed English society party-planner Lady Julia Fellowes!
Yes, he might well be the world’s most eligible bachelor, according to A-List Life magazine—but multibillionaire tycoon Silas Carter is no longer eligible. He’s engaged to be married, and both his family and hers are reported to be thrilled with the match.
Not long ago Silas was spotted with American heiress Aimee DeTroite, who is said to be
fuming at the news. Yesterday it wasn’t even known that Silas and Julia were an item, much less engaged—suggesting that this may be an arranged marriage. The present Earl of Amberley is Julia’s grandfather. His heir is none other than Silas Carter—who stands to inherit the title and the country house where Julia grew up, along with the family’s sizable art and property fortune.
So, is this an arranged marriage brokered by the present Earl of Amberley to ensure his beloved granddaughter keeps the family estate? Or is this rather sudden engagement more of the shotgun variety? After all, this relationship is steamy—if the paparazzi are to be believed.…
* * *
PENNY JORDAN has been writing for more than twenty years and has an outstanding record: over 150 novels published, including the phenomenally successful A Perfect Family, To Love, Honor and Betray, The Perfect Sinner and Power Play, which hit the Sunday Times and New York Times bestseller lists. Penny Jordan was born in Lancashire, England, and now lives in rural Cheshire.
CONTENTS
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Epilogue
CHAPTER ONE
LIPS light as the touch of a butterfly’s wings, but far more sensual, brushed the back of her neck, a male hand on her shoulder enclosing the small intimacy in protective secrecy, before he whispered in her ear.
‘Back in a few minutes. Don’t go away.’
She hadn’t moved, not even to turn her head to look at him, and she didn’t move now. Mainly because she couldn’t, Jules realised shakily.
There were times when she would rather be anything other than one of the partners in an event planning organisation. And this was definitely one of them.
Everyone who was anyone in the celebrity world was here in Majorca, thronging the grounds of the exclusive holiday villa currently on loan to the most excitingly ‘in’ Hollywood superstar couple.
A-List Life, the magazine responsible for paying for this particular ‘bash,’ which was ostensibly being given to celebrate the couple’s first wedding anniversary, had already described them as Hollywood Royalty.
Now their carefully selected celebrity ‘friends’ were ‘celebrating,’ whilst the magazine’s flamboyant owner and editor, Dorland Chesterfield, interviewed the happy couple and its photographers mingled with the guests.
She was getting too cynical, Julia decided. Lucy, her friend and the owner of Prêt a Party, had been thrilled about this commission, and of course Julia could understand why.
Dorland was a millionaire and was the most influential person on the upmarket social event scene. Being hired to organise any event the magazine was sponsoring—never mind being selected, as they had been, to organise Dorland’s fabulous and high-profile end-of-summer celeb bash—was virtually a licence to print money, via future commissions, as Nick, Lucy’s husband, had said.
A small frown pleated Julia’s forehead as she remembered Nick’s unkind comments about Dorland.
‘The man’s a fat, brainless star-sucker—if he is a man,’ he had announced derisively when Dorland had first approached them.
‘That’s neither true nor fair, Nick.’ Julia had immediately defended Dorland.
Yes, Dorland was slightly overweight, and it was true that there were rumours that prior to bursting onto the social scene and setting up his magazine he had undergone a sex-change operation, as well as equally unproven gossip and speculation about his sexual orientation. However, Julia privately suspected he might well be one of those people who genuinely were asexual. Although he was surrounded by eager wannabes of both sexes, thanks to the success of A-List Life, no one had ever been able to say categorically that he had had any sexual involvements or partnerships. It was Julia’s belief that Dorland reserved all his passion for the great love in his life, which was fame and those who achieved it. Whatever his sexuality, Dorland could tap into the female psyche, and he also had the knack of massaging a vulnerable and famous ego to the point where even the most out-of-reach ‘star’ was prepared to let down their guard with him.
The truth was that Dorland genuinely liked and admired the famous, and they, sensing that, turned to him and his magazine with the kind of exclusive articles that had other editors gnashing their teeth with envy.
Nick affected to loathe and despise him, but Julia couldn’t help wondering if secretly Nick was jealous of both his success and his wealth.
She, not Nick, was the one who had had the headache of organising and co-ordinating the two lavish events Dorland had hired them for. Including dealing with more mammoth egos than any sane person would ever want to know. Nick had cleverly managed to be away chasing up new business or interviewing potential new clients when all the really hard work had had to be done. Nick was here today, though.
A pang of pain mingled with guilt squeezed her heart.
There had been a time when in her heart, if not in public, she had begun to dream that she and Nick would become a pair. When he had dropped her for Lucy, shortly after she had introduced them, she had naturally done her best to conceal how she felt, assuring herself that hearts did not break, and that if hers was so very badly cracked that she felt it would never mend, then that was her own affair.
Her mental choice of the word affair made her grimace. Nick might have pursued and flattered her, but things had not got to the point where they had exchanged anything more than a few passionate kisses, and thankfully she had not had time to confide in her friends about how she’d felt about him.
But just recently Nick had started to complain to her that his marriage was in difficulties and he felt he had made a mistake. Lucy, too, whilst fiercely loyal to her husband and her marriage, had begun to look strained and unhappy.
After a thorough visual scan, to ensure that nothing needed her attention, Julia was just about to go inside and check on the progress of the interview when Nick came up behind her and put his hand on her bare shoulder again, deliberately caressing the smooth, lightly tanned skin.
‘Don’t, Nick.’ She warned him off.
He ignored her, murmuring tauntingly, ‘Don’t? Don’t what? Don’t stop? You know you want it every bit as much as I do.’
‘That’s not true,’ she denied fiercely. ‘Apart from anything else, you’re married to Lucy.’
‘Don’t remind me.’
Automatically Julia felt herself recoil. These were words she just did not want to hear, just as this was a situation she did not want to be in, but Nick was still holding her, and closing the gap between them as he whispered thickly, ‘Remember how good it was between us? What are you holding back for? Why shouldn’t we enjoy one another when it’s what we both want? I could come to your room later. No one need know, and—’
‘No! It’s over between us, Nick. I mean that. And I won’t change my mind.’
‘Oh, yes, you will,’ he told her softly. ‘You know that, and so do I.’
He was bending his head towards her and in another heartbeat he would be kissing her. Panic and guilt invaded her. The last time he had kissed her had been under a tropical moon in the garden of the luxury hotel where they had met, and where she had assumed they would become lovers. But by the end of the holiday Lucy had been the one Nick had declared he loved. Lucy had been the one he had married. Lucy was his wife. And one of her two closest friends. No way was she going to betray that friendship. Every marriage went through a bad patch.
Somehow she managed to wrench herself away from Nick, but she had barely taken a couple of steps when she felt hard male fingers gripping her arm.
‘No, Nick. I meant what I said,’ she said sharply, without bothering to turn her head.
‘Did you? He certainly didn’t seem to think so—and neither do I!’
‘Silas!’
Her whole body went into shock as she stared up in consternation at the man holding on to her.
‘How—?’ she began, only to be cut off with ruthless efficiency.
‘How much did I overhear? All of it,’ he told her succinctly. ‘How long has it been going on?’
‘Nothing is going on!’
The look he gave her—ice-blue eyes narrowed, cynicism tightening his mouth, even the angle of his head as he turned it toward her—reflected his disbelief. She could feel the old familiar mix of anger and antipathy taking hold of her.
‘It’s true,’ she insisted. ‘I met Nick before he met Lucy, and the relationship he was referring to was that relationship—not that it’s any of your business.’
‘A relationship he obviously now believes you want to resume,’ Silas said silkily.
‘Well, he believes wrong. Because I don’t.’
The way he was looking at her was driving up her own anger. They’d never got on, not really. She only tolerated him because of Gramps, whose title and land he would one day inherit.
In Gramps’s shoes, she doubted that she would have been able to take to her heart so warmly this American outsider who, by virtue of being descended in the male line from Gramps’s younger brother, would one day inherit his title and land. But then she did not possess her grandfather’s sanguine outlook on life.
‘But you do want him.’
It was a taunt rather than a question.
‘No!’ she said furiously. ‘Nick is married to Lucy. And she is my best friend.’
‘I know that. But I also know that if you want what you’re saying you do, you’ll make damn sure he knows that you aren’t available.’
