‘If she’s not your baby then you need to accept it now,’ she told him. ‘Buying me won’t help you, and it won’t help Phoebe. Thank you for the gift, but you need to face it. It was a cop-out for you, and for Phoebe’s sake I can’t let you take it. The kids will be disappointed. Gran and Pa will be disappointed too, because they’d love to see me travel, but that’s the problem with surprise gifts. They have consequences and I can’t let those consequences get in the way of Phoebe’s care. Take Phoebe back to the house now, Max. I’ll be home soon. I just need to walk off a bit of steam.’
She cast him one last look. She saw anger, confusion, shock, but there was nothing she could do about it. Before he could respond she turned away and started walking.
Fast.
* * *
For a long moment he didn’t move.
He felt as if he was stranded, stuck in time, standing in the dark in a strange country, with a sleeping baby in his arms. He had no idea where Sunny had gone. He couldn’t go after her. He had no choice but to turn and walk back to the house.
It was almost surreal, walking under the trees where the nesting parrots stirred and twittered as he passed, where the only lights were those of the muted Christmas decorations in the front yards, where echoes of Christmas music wafted from households readying for bed, readying to farewell Christmas for another year.
Phoebe stayed sleeping in his arms, a warm, fed bundle, nestled against his chest.
You think you can buy her care? Is that what you want for Phoebe?
Sunny’s words echoed in his head. He thought of the Christmases he’d had as a child—fantastic, extravagant parties where he was expected to behave, be silent, be grateful and be a charming child for his parents’ guests. For there were always guests. They were people he didn’t know, the children of his parents’ latest lover, business acquaintances, a gathering of society’s finest, all trying their darnedest to impress.
He thought of the gifts he’d been given, motorised toy cars—a toy Lamborghini, for heaven’s sake—an exquisitely carved rocking horse, designer clothes, vouchers for exclusive stores, sound systems to take his breath away.
And then there’d been the pup.
He’d been eight years old, flown as an unaccompanied minor from the US to England, from boarding school and his father’s apartment on the odd weekend to the English country house of his mother’s latest lover. Who had a title his mother lusted after. Who welcomed him with affable friendliness. Who bred Border collies.
He could still feel the shock, the joy and the wonder of that Christmas morning. A tiny bundle of black and white fur, moist, licking, wriggling with excitement, with a huge crimson bow around her neck.
‘Of course you can keep her. Happy Christmas, darling.’
And he’d fallen completely, besottedly in love.
He’d had her for two months. He’d called her Lassie—how naff was that? but she was the best Christmas gift ever. She’d played with him, exploring the strange farm he’d ended up on. She’d rolled in sheep dung or whatever else disgusting they could find on their adventures. She’d crawled all over him, slept with him, loved him back, a warm, fun bundle of pup he’d thought was his for ever.
But that was the last time he’d ever let himself love. As his mother’s relationship folded, as the pretence of happy families disappeared as it always did, he was sent back to his father. That last awful morning...his mother had wrenched the pup from his arms and slapped him when he’d tried to grab her back.
He still couldn’t come to terms with the pain of that moment.
He’d do better with Phoebe, he thought. Maybe she could even have a dog? But as he looked down into her sleeping face Sunny’s words kept echoing.
You think you can buy her care?
He did think that. This baby had been thrust on him and he had no intention of changing his life. She’d have to fit around the edges.
And, as if on cue, Phoebe opened her eyes and gazed up at him.
Okay, he’d care, he conceded.
But enough to take a month out of his life?
It was more than that, though.
Could he care enough to let himself fall for this tiny creature? Enough to truly acknowledge she was his sister?
There’d been judgement in Sunny’s tone and maybe he deserved it. If Phoebe was adopted, if he decided he couldn’t care and Isabelle wouldn’t, then one of hundreds of couples desperate to have a baby would welcome her with joy. He knew that. They’d certainly take time out of their lives to learn to love her.
They’d open their hearts...
And that was the crux. Opening his heart...
He didn’t know how to any more. He was a loner. The lessons learned from his childhood were soul-deep.
So put her up for adoption.
But he gazed down into her face and Sunny’s words kept playing and replaying. And then he thought of Sunny’s Mr Sock.
‘She’d care,’ he told Phoebe. And then he added a rider. ‘Maybe she can teach me how.’
A month. A month with Phoebe and Sunny.
He thought of the business negotiations waiting for him to deal with as soon as he got back to the States. He thought of complication after complication.
He looked down at Phoebe again and then he thought of Sunny, venting her frustration by walking too fast into the night. He thought of her last night, weary beyond belief, staying up even later to make a Mr Sock.
‘Maybe she can teach me,’ he said again to Phoebe. But there was something there that...scared him?
Was it Sunny herself? Sunny, with her huge heart. Sunny, with a background so much harder than his, a cleaning lady who sweated blood to love her family.
She deserved her time in New York. She deserved what he could give her.
‘So I need to agree to her terms,’ he told Phoebe and he thought suddenly of a month in New York with no business. And Sunny.
Surely the sky wouldn’t fall on his head if he had a break.
But then... Sunny?
The sky was suddenly threatening and he wasn’t sure why.
The way he felt...
You can cut that out, he told himself fiercely as he turned and headed for home. It’s all very well to let yourself fall for a baby. But Sunny?
Her life was as far from his as it was possible to get.
A month, he told himself. A month and then his life would get back to what it should be.
* * *
She walked for an hour, trying to figure what she was doing rejecting such an amazing offer—and also trying to suppress her anger that he’d put such a deal in front of her, a temptation she could almost taste.
She remembered all that time ago, a social worker taking her aside. ‘You’re a clever girl, Sunny, and the responsibilities you’re facing are too much. We’ll take you all into care. You can go to school, do what normal kids do, look after Sunny for a change.’
The social workers had been called in because her mother had been arrested for being drunk and disorderly. They’d found Sunny trying to cope and had been horrified.
Overwhelmed, Sunny had felt herself tempted. To walk away... To have time for Sunny...
It had been a siren song but she’d looked at her brothers and sisters and known there was only one path to tread. She’d reacted with anger; she’d insisted they were all safe and that this episode with her mother had been a one-off. She’d had no choice.
As there was no choice now, but this time it was about Phoebe. ‘And she’s just as important as Daisy and Sam and Chloe and Tom,’ she muttered.
But he’d just employ someone else. Why shouldn’t it be her?
‘Because I won’t watch while he pays me to keep her.’ She hiked some more, stomping out her anger.
But she had to go home. With Max�
��s preposterous suggestion off the table she needed to go to work tomorrow. It was almost midnight. She needed to sleep.
As if that was going to happen. But she turned and made her reluctant way home, trying not to think of New York. Trying not to think of Phoebe.
Trying not to think of Max.
She turned into the driveway and Max was sitting on the veranda steps. Waiting.
* * *
‘Hi.’
For some reason she wanted to turn and run but she forced herself to keep walking. His greeting was low and gravelly. The rest of the house must be asleep—the house was in darkness. The window behind him into the room he shared with Phoebe was open but there was silence there as well. He’d have put her down and come outside—to wait for her?
‘Hi,’ she managed and headed for the steps. She needed to brush past fast. ‘G...goodnight. I need to go to bed.’
‘I need you to come to New York.’
‘I already told you...’ She was halfway up the stairs, trying to brush past him fast.
‘Of your conditions. I accept.’
She stopped dead. Her world seemed to wobble and she had to put out a hand on the balustrade to steady herself.
‘Really?’ she managed.
‘Really. And Sunny, I’m sorry.’
‘For...for what?’
‘For not getting it.’ He edged aside. ‘Will you sit down?’
‘I need...’
‘To listen. Oh, and I have the brandy sauce.’
‘You...what?’
‘Ruby was up making herself a cup of tea and eating a mince pie when I got home. She diluted some of the brandy sauce into a jug, with orders to give you some. And she told me to tell you to quit it with the qualms, take my offer and run.’
She smiled, despite her...qualms. ‘That sounds like Gran.’
He poured two glasses and held one out. ‘Sit,’ he told her.
She should... She should...
She sat.
‘So, about this offer,’ Max said. ‘It’s still open. A month in New York, all expenses paid; the only catch is now you’ll need to put up with me a bit more than you expected.’
Yeah, that’d be a disaster, she thought, but she didn’t say it. How inappropriate was that?
‘So you’ll take a month off work?’ she managed. She needed to get this clear. She needed to get a lot of things clear.
‘Mostly.’ He gave a rueful smile. ‘There’ll be things I need to attend to. Dad’s death has left loose ends that need to be tied but, as you say, I have a computer and a phone. Everything that can be put off will be put off.’
‘For Phoebe.’
‘For Phoebe.’ He handed her the glass and clinked his. ‘So is this to shared childminding?’
‘I... I guess.’ She was too hornswoggled to make much sense. She tipped the glass...and practically choked. ‘What the...?’
He drank too, and grinned. ‘I guess she diluted it with more brandy, huh?’
‘My grandmother...’ She glowered and he grinned and it broke the tension.
‘She’s awesome.’
‘She is,’ Sunny agreed. This was a safe topic at least. ‘I don’t know that I can leave her.’
‘If there weren’t others to care I’d say not. But you know you can.’
‘If anything happened to Pa...’
‘I’d have you on the next plane. But Daisy tells me it’s not likely.’
‘Did she tell you about his heart?’
‘He has a new stent. It seems to be working. Daisy says there are no promises but he’s better now than he has been. She also says this might be your only window before...before something does happen.’
‘A window...’
‘A window to do something different, something that might even be fun. Something for Sunny. Your whole family wants this for you, Sunny. So just say yes.’
‘My whole family and you.’
‘That’s right.’
‘Why?’ She took another sip of her brandy sauce and then carefully set it down. Who knew what strength it was, and she needed every bit of concentration she could muster. ‘New York will be full of extraordinary childminders, nannies, the works. Americans don’t take January off. You could employ someone in a flash.’
‘And I’m good at employing people,’ he agreed. ‘I could find someone highly skilled, great work ethic, honest, capable, efficient. But I’m not sure if that’s what Phoebe needs. I run a huge corporation, Sunny, and I’ve learned others have the skills I don’t. Hiring nannies... I don’t have the first clue. All I know is that I want someone like you. I know you can’t take the job permanently, but if you give me a month we can find someone together.’
How did she answer that?
So why not?
Max was throwing money at her problems. Chloe and Tom were more than capable of taking care of Gran and Pa, and they’d love the chance to stay here rather than take the menial holiday jobs they had to do to survive. Gran and Pa would love their company, love the extra attention. Daisy and Sam would be in the background, ready to help.
Max had somehow wangled her leave without pay. She could return in a month and walk back into her job.
So why not?
Because...because...
He was too close.
And there was the reason in a nutshell. She was sitting beside him in the dark. The step wasn’t wide enough to allow any distance. His body was brushing against hers.
She could feel his heat. She could sense his strength.
It made her feel...frightened?
Not exactly. It was a sensation she had no way of describing.
Oh, for heaven’s sake... She was quibbling and why? She knew this man was honourable—the fact that he’d come here with his baby rather than taking Phoebe to the nearest welfare worker told her that. His name was known the world over. If there was any of...what Gran would call ‘funny business’...she could have his name plastered over every tabloid in the Western world.
‘You can trust me,’ he said and infuriatingly there was laughter behind his words. How did he know? ‘Huge apartment,’ he continued. ‘Master bedroom one end. Guest suite at the other with about an acre of living room in between.’
‘It sounds...lonely,’ she managed.
‘Lonely’s the way I like it. But with Phoebe... I guess I need to change. I’m depending on you to teach me.’
‘Lonely’s never been a problem for me,’ she managed. ‘Sometimes I...’
‘Wouldn’t mind a taste? This is your chance. I promise I’ll do as much of the caring as I can. You’ll have time to yourself. Real time. I’m guessing for you that could be worth gold.’
‘I...yes.’ But she wasn’t sure.
‘So you’ll come?’
She looked at him in the moonlight, a big, solitary man she knew nothing of apart from his reputation as one of the world’s most ruthless businessmen.
But she did know him better than that, she thought. She’d watched the way he held Phoebe. She’d seen the pain as he’d fought for something to say at his father’s funeral. She’d watched him lose himself in the kids’ silly basketball match and she’d listened to him talk to Pa. Pa was a bit forgetful, a bit inclined to tell the same stories over and over, but Max had listened with courtesy and interest. He’d made Pa smile.
And what he was offering...
Just say yes.
‘Yes,’ she said and it felt as if she’d just jumped off a very high cliff.
What had she done?
But Max was setting his glass down and turning to face her. He took her hands in his and it felt right. It felt...as if the world was slowing down to let something important happen. Something out of her control?
‘Than
k you,’ he said and she found her breathing wasn’t quite happening. But who needed to breathe when the world was tipping on its axis?
What was in that brandy sauce?
‘I think...’ How to get her voice above a whisper? ‘I think it’s the wrong way around. It’s me who should be thanking you. This is...an extraordinary offer.’
‘You deserve it. You’re an extraordinary woman.’
‘I’m a cleaning lady.’
‘And so much more. Don’t you dare devalue yourself. Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?’
She practically laughed. Beautiful? With her worn hands, her hair she cut herself, her faded clothes... He had to be mocking.
But his eyes weren’t mocking. His eyes said he spoke the truth and for one glorious moment she let herself believe. For this wasn’t her. This was some other woman, sitting in the moonlight with the most beautiful man...
This was a tableau, make-believe, magic.
But she couldn’t make it stop, and why would she? For he was drawing her gently to him. No pressure. She could pull away at any moment. She could...
She couldn’t, for he’d released one of her hands, and with his free hand he was tilting her chin. He was cupping her face. He was tilting her mouth to his.
And kissing...
She’d been kissed before—of course she had. She knew how kissing could feel.
Only it wasn’t like this.
It was as if her body simply fused. His hands caught her waist and he tugged her close. The moment their mouths met... The sensations... The heat, the strength, the feel of him... The taste... The sheer masculine scent...
The rasp of after-five shadow. The strength of his jawline. The tenderness with strength and urgency behind it.
She was sinking into him, melting, aching to be a part of something she had no hope of understanding. Did she whimper? She hoped not but she might have. She’d never felt like this. She was sitting on her grandparents’ front step and yet she felt a world away, transported into another life. A life where there was just Max and Sunny.
Fantasy.
And with that thought reality came slamming in, like a wash of ice water. What was she doing? She, Sunny, was sitting on the porch kissing a billionaire, a man who’d just employed her, a man who was about to be her boss.
The Billionaire's Christmas Baby Page 10
