Stella sucked in a breath and forced herself to pull the last remaining items together for the trip to London. This would be a chance for her to get some much needed time away from the estate, from her grief. Her eyes flicked to where the time capsule sat, unopened, on the bureau. She’d deal with that later.
Right now, she needed to concentrate on making sure that Evan didn’t get under her skin.
…
Dark clouds hung low and dense across the sky, making it look like night instead of day. Shadows seemed to sprout wherever he looked. It was a miserable picture. Though, according to the weather bureau, by the time they returned from London the hills would be coated in glittering, white snow. A picture perfect postcard of a white Christmas.
If Stella could resist that, then he’d be pushing shit uphill trying to convince her to stay. He was counting on London to help him with the heavy lifting—some glamorous nightlife activities, good food, and maybe a little ice skating to help thaw her resentment toward his fair country.
“It’s bloody freezing,” Stella announced as she came down the stairs, suitcase in hand.
Her jeans were tucked into tall boots and what looked to be about five layers of T-shirts, cardigans, and jackets. It was quite possible she was wearing every item of clothing she’d brought with her.
“Perhaps one thick layer might be more effective than five thin ones?” he said with a smirk.
“I don’t own anything that heavy.” She shivered on the spot. “The jumper I bought in Italy is still damp from the other day and everything else is from home. I don’t do cold weather, as you might recall.”
“You’ve got three and a half more weeks here.” Evan walked over to her, placing his hands on her shoulders and rubbing his palms briskly up and down her arms. “Get used to it.”
He’d intended the gesture to be friendly, but the awareness that flooded him pointed to emotions far more intense than friendship. Judging by the part of her lips and the way her pupils flared…it didn’t feel friendly to her, either. He’d tossed and turned all night remembering her kiss. Perhaps he should have taken a cold shower before he packed his bags.
“We can go now if you’re ready, unless you want breakfast first?” Evan said.
“I’m not hungry.” She pulled up the handle on her suitcase and headed for the door.
Outside, the rain eased to a light drizzle. He picked up her suitcase and jogged to the car, bowing his head to the rain. Tossing their bags into the back of his silver Jaguar, he reached for the spare hoodie he kept there for emergency stopovers and tossed it over the front seat into Stella’s lap before coming around to the driver’s side.
“Thanks.” She wriggled into it and buried her chin in the thick material. “Nice car. Flashy. I’m surprised you didn’t get the driver to take us.”
“I like being out on the road,” he replied, starting the car’s engine and taking a moment to enjoy the purr.
The car had been one of his first luxury purchases after he’d paid Nicholas back for all the money he’d poured into Evan’s schooling. The Jag was like a symbol that he’d made it out of the hole dug by his mother’s poor fortune and his father’s negligence. A couple of successful property flips and he’d leapt ahead in the game. Looking the part had become important to his reputation. That meant a well-cut suit, a nice car, flying first class, and being seen at the hottest restaurants.
But even now, with wealth that most people could only dream of, he tried to keep his life as simple and uncluttered as possible.
The car rumbled along the path that led out of the estate. They passed his cottage and followed the road away from home. In the rear view mirror, the estate shrank.
“This place will always be home,” he replied.
She raised a brow. “Gee, that’s a statement full of personal agenda if I ever heard one.”
“It’s true.” He smiled. She was a sharp one. “I’ve spent more time here than anywhere else. I’ve got a lot to thank your grandfather for.”
She rested her head against the window. “I always felt like he was away from Australia for long stretches of time.”
“We always felt like he was away from here for long stretches of time.”
Something flickered across her face, but she turned slightly. Hiding herself.
“Someone always missed him, no matter where he went,” Evan added. “He was that kind of guy.”
“At least you had Ethel and the rest of the staff to keep you company. When he left me, I was completely alone.” She burrowed her chin farther into the thick jumper.
“What about your mother? I mean, I know you two didn’t always have the best relationship but she was still around before she got remarried, right?”
“Things were strained at home. I tried to be the daughter she wanted, but I always seemed to get in her way.” She sighed. “When she was dating she didn’t want me to be an imposition and when I got older I think she resented the way men looked at me.”
“I got the impression Nicholas wasn’t a fan.”
“He wasn’t. Before Dad died he put everything in his own name so my mother couldn’t get at it. Then he started selling things off when he got sick.” She let out a soft snort. “Funny, my mother started taking a bit more of an interest in my life around that time. She was the one encouraging me to sell the estate.”
His jaw clenched as his back teeth ground together. His relationship with his own mother was never perfect—hell, it was hard to have a relationship with a woman who lived in her own little bubble. But there was never any doubt that she loved him.
“Is she expecting a cut?”
“She hasn’t said anything outright, but that doesn’t mean she’s not laying the groundwork.” The car was silent as it sped through the English countryside. Hills and a spare dotting of properties blurred in the windows, rain streaming across the windscreen. “Sometimes I wonder what it might’ve been like if my father had lived. She might have been different if she was in love with him…I hope they were at some point.”
“It’s overrated.”
“Love?”
“Yeah. People chase this glossy, romantic ideal and it’s all bullshit. They compromise their values for the sake of pairing up and inevitably end up disappointed only to learn nothing from their mistakes before they go out and do it all again.”
Evan’s life followed a stable order—business first, family a very close second. Sex came in at a distant third and relationships ranked somewhere between root canals and walking barefoot on hot coals. However, since Stella had arrived at the estate, sex was making a play for spot number two. His cock had been reminding him that the dry spell needed to come to an end.
Except when he thought about sleeping with Stella it wasn’t simply about basic need. And that scared the hell out of him.
“Wow.” Stella blinked. “And I thought I was cynical.”
“It’s not cynical, it’s realistic.” He attempted a nonchalant shrug, but Stella snorted and it was clear she wasn’t buying it. “I watched my mother bounce from bad relationship to bad relationship and all it gave her was a broken heart.”
He didn’t mention how some of those relationships had almost sent her to an early grave.
“So this is why you believe people are just out to use you?” She sighed. “Maybe you’re right. I certainly don’t have any experience to the contrary.”
“There are plenty of other ways to feel like you belong than getting yourself tied to some jerk who’s only going to hurt you.”
“Thanks for the warning,” she quipped.
Quit while you’re ahead, why don’t you?
“What I mean is, family can be what you make it. Nicholas and Matt and the people at the estate aren’t my blood relations, obviously. But that doesn’t matter. In my eyes, they’re family.”
The rush of tires over rain-slicked road filled the pause in their conversation. When Stella didn’t respond, Evan glanced over at her. Her delicate fingers toyed with th
e hem of his hoodie. Had he said too much? Who the hell knew. Deep and meaningful conversations weren’t something he had a lot of experience with. But he’d been hoping the car ride would be a chance to get past some of her barriers, to make her see that he was a real guy. Not the monster that her imagination had morphed him into over the last four years.
“Tell me about surfing.” He had to switch the conversation to a safer topic.
Her face lit up, the sparkle returning to her eyes. “I try to get out at least three times a week in the warmer months. It’s my down time.”
“It seems like an interesting choice.”
“I’m an Australian living in one of the hottest parts of the country, and I live near a beach. How is surfing an interesting choice?”
“It seems out of sorts with your personality.” He had the feeling he was about to dig a hole for himself, but the drive to unravel the contradictions and complexities of Stella Jackson was far too tempting a task. “I always imagined surf culture as being free and easy.”
“And I’m not free and easy?” She crossed her arms and turned in her seat to face him.
“Well, no. You’re…” He searched for the right word. “Particular.”
“That’s the second time you’ve used that word to describe me,” she pointed out. “There’s a lot of technique involved in surfing, you know. You can’t just jump up on the board and expect to chill out.”
“Just like you can’t slap the Christmas tree ornaments on in any old order?”
“That’s right.” She grinned in spite of herself. “There’s a process, steps to follow. I like that.”
And he liked it when a smile finally lit up her face. It didn’t happen often enough, especially not when he remembered how readily she smiled as a kid. The years had worn her down, tired her out—he’d contributed to that. Guilt struck him in the chest.
He’d never meant to hurt Stella, but that was the funny thing about self-preservation. Putting yourself first meant you had to put someone else second. It was precisely why he stayed out of relationships. Easier to avoid guilt over things like that if you owed nothing to anybody.
As soon as he convinced Stella to sell him the estate he could go back to flying solo and looking after number one.
…
Stella spent the ride through London with her face pressed to the Jaguar’s passenger window. It was still raining outside but nothing could dampen the beauty of the old buildings and quaint little pubs that lined the street. People rushed past, huddled under umbrellas, and a bright red double-decker bus crossed the intersection ahead of them.
Evan slowed down in front of a sleek, silver and glass tower, turning into a tight entrance for an underground car park. “This is us,” he said as he pulled into a parking spot.
She unbuckled her seatbelt and stepped out of the car. It dawned on her that she hadn’t asked where they would be staying for this little London jaunt. But as she looked around at the rows of expensive cars, she knew that he’d brought her to his place.
Of course he would. Do you think he’d want to go to a hotel when he could come home?
Excitement fizzed in her stomach. The last time she’d visited him, he’d been living in a glorified kennel with a roommate and a kitchen small enough to fit in a Barbie Dream House.
“Let’s get inside. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving,” Evan said as he retrieved the luggage from the backseat.
By the time they reached the apartment, she had ooh-ed and aaah-ed at almost everything from the modern chandelier in the building’s foyer, to the subtle silver and charcoal design of the elevator. The building was everything she tried to embody when designing one of her events for the hotel back home—classy, elegant, and yet inviting.
The apartment itself was even better. A view of the Thames toward the Houses of Parliament and Westminster dominated the space. No art work required. Sleek leather couches and a white coffee table with subtle marble accents made the space feel chic yet liveable. A black statue of a soldier beside the couch added the right amount of contrast. It was perfect, just the sort of place she could see herself living in.
Where did that come from?
Shaking her head, she wandered over to the mantle above the fireplace and looked at the small collection of photos in polished black frames. One stood out. It was from Evan’s graduation. He and Nicholas both wore huge smiles and matching dark suits. The pride radiated from her grandfather’s blue-green eyes with such vibrancy that she was compelled to reach out and touch the photograph to see if he were real and hiding inside.
A lump caught in her throat. She couldn’t do this. Evan had already seen more emotion from her than anyone else in her life, and she didn’t want to be in a position to cry in front of him again.
Steeling herself, she took a deep breath and forced a cheery smile as though focusing on her surroundings. “This place is amazing.”
“It is.” Evan nodded. “I wanted a flat that was shiny and new since I often deal with properties that are falling apart. It’s nice to come home and know that everything works.”
She followed him through the main room, past the kitchen that looked as though it had never been used and down the hall to where the bedrooms were.
“I’ll leave the master bedroom to you,” he said, opening the door to reveal a huge king-size bed and a window that looked out over London. In the late afternoon the city was clouded in a haze, but the tree-lined streets of Westminster with Big Ben in the distance was enough to steal Stella’s breath. “And I’ll take the spare room.”
“Are you sure?” She turned to him.
Evan stood in the doorway, his long, lean figure propped up against the frame. His leather jacket hugged a trim waist and broad shoulders, jeans sat low on his hips. There was a hint of stubble along his jaw, further defining the sharp angles of his face. A lazy grin spread over his lips.
“Unless you want me to bunk with you?”
Oh, God, yes.
Her immediate reaction was the wrong one, but that didn’t stop her body temperature from shooting up.
“I’m sure you’ll be fine on your own.” She nodded and stepped through the door. Doing her best—and failing—to ignore the jolt of electricity that ran through her when she brushed past him.
Something about them being alone weighed on her. Not that they had much company back at the estate, but Ethel’s presence made her feel more secure. Like she could keep herself and her desires in check. But her imagination was doling out every possible scenario in vivid, panty-soaking detail.
Hoping to God Evan hadn’t noticed how he’d rattled her, she hurried back to the main room and acted like she was interested in checking the apartment out further. Talk about behaving like a skittish teenager, and one driven by hormones at that. What in the world was wrong with her?
Wandering around the main room, she found herself in the kitchen checking out the empty fridge and sparsely filled cupboards. Drinking glasses came in a single pair, and there were no more than four dinner plates.
“I take it you don’t host many dinner parties,” she said.
“I’m too busy to host anyone here.” His eyes looked darker in the dim lighting of the apartment. In the small space he felt even bigger, broader. More intimidating.
“Don’t you make breakfast for your lady friends?” she teased.
“Truth be told, you’re the first woman to set foot in this place.” He followed her into the kitchen, standing between her and the only exit.
Her heart kicked up a notch. “Why’s that?”
He shrugged. “This is where I work, where I think. I don’t need any women interrupting my time here.”
Women. Plural. She pondered that for a moment. How many women had he been with? A surge of something forceful and uncomfortable sparked in her chest. Jealousy. She had no right to feel it and yet it was there, plain as day, sucking the air from her lungs.
“So I’m not in the ‘interruptions’ category, then?”<
br />
“No, you’re not.” His eyes raked up and down her length.
She felt exposed, which was ridiculous given how many layers she had on. A hot flush rose up her neck when his eyes finally rested back on her face. He stepped forward and closed in on her.
“Jittery?”
“I’m fine.” She straightened her spine, though even stretching to her full height he had a head and a half on her.
“There’s not much food here, but there are plenty of cafés around and the rain looks like it’s easing off.” He leaned against the counter and watched her closely. “I’m going to check in with the office but I’ll be back in a few hours then we can have dinner out. There’s a lot close by. Bridge Road is just around the corner or you can get a taxi to Oxford Street if you can’t be bothered with the Tube.”
With the way her stomach had knotted itself she wasn’t hungry anyway. Not entirely true, she was hungry for things other than food. And suddenly, being dazzled by the city lights and flashy apartment, she was starting to lose her grip on why she should keep her distance from Evan Foss.
“I’ll be fine. I’ve got work to do.”
Yes, work. That was exactly what she needed right now to keep her eye on the prize.
Chapter Eight
By the time Evan returned to the flat, the sky was dark outside. Though, at this time of year in London, daylight was a bit of a misnomer—there wasn’t anything light about it. If he was to convince Stella that England was better than Australia, he’d need to work with inky skies and heavy clouds. Luckily for him, the city looked its best at night with the twinkling lights reflecting off rain-slicked streets.
The office had been manic, keeping him away from Stella longer than he wanted. But he ran a lean company, with only the bare minimum of staff, because he liked to be in complete control. Which was fine, usually. Only now he’d been far too absent and work was piling up. He made a mental note to get onto his emails tomorrow, and deal with the backlog that was freaking out his assistant.
He unzipped his coat as he stepped into the foyer of his building. The brisk walk from his office had given him time to clear his head and shake off some of his frustration. After a few hours talking shop with Matteo, they weren’t any closer to finding a housing prospect for Ethel. Their strict requirements were getting in the way. They wanted a cottage that wasn’t too big, but wasn’t cramped, either. Something close enough to the shops without being too “suburban” because she liked the countryside. It had to have modern conveniences without being too complicated or fussy. But as the year drew to a close, time was running out.
Millionaire Under the Mistletoe Page 8
