British Bachelors & Conveniently Bedded Bundle

by Helen Brooks, Maggie Cox, Natalie Anderson, Anna Cleary

Her lips twisted. ‘I keep everything, Seb. As you can see.’

  But this was different. ‘You said you don’t want children.’

  ‘I don’t.’

  ‘So why keep them?’

  ‘I didn’t keep them. It’s just that I never get rid of anything. I’m a hoarder.’ She didn’t look at him as she answered—walked back into the wardrobe. She might sound casual, but he knew what she was doing—hiding.

  Seb felt sick as he stared at the shoes once more. Of course she’d kept them—deliberately. She’d wanted to keep them—safely tucked away in a little bag at the heart of her collection. Just as she’d wanted to keep their baby. She wanted children. And she couldn’t—shouldn’t—deny it. She shouldn’t deny what was true to her. She shouldn’t try to be like him. That was what she was doing, wasn’t it? She’d learned all the wrong things from him. Like their fling—their deal in Africa—that wasn’t in her character. The dreamy-eyed woman he’d met a year ago wasn’t the kind to instigate a quick and meaningless affair. She felt. She was a soft, loving woman who really was meant for love and family.

  Her keeping the shoes revealed that, didn’t it? Just as the glow in her face at his father’s wedding had hinted that her romanticism, her idealism, still lurked beneath her shiny new carefree surface.

  She wanted more. And she deserved more.

  But he wasn’t the man who could deliver it.

  He clenched his fists as an ache ripped through his guts. ‘What are you going to do with them?’

  Ana pulled her face from where she’d buried it in the clothes she’d just hung in the wardrobe. Inhaled deep to steady her voice. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘It’s not like you’ll be able to rent them out.’

  No, of course she couldn’t. Anger spurted inside. Why was he pursuing this? What did he want her to say? She marched out of the wardrobe and scooped up the shoes, stuffed them back into their little bag. ‘I don’t want them.’ She tossed the bag into the hall. ‘I’ll put them in a charity bin later.’

  She needed some kind of superglue to fix the tear in her heart—fast—because she didn’t want the hurt to burst out again. Not now. Not when things were confusing enough. But it was rising fast—and was huge again, hitting her in a wave.

  Damn. Why did he have to find those shoes? And why was he freaking out about them?

  ‘I have to go back in to work,’ he said briskly. ‘Lots to catch up on still since I was away. I’ll be back tonight.’

  Yeah, he was backing off fast.

  ‘Of course. I’ve got work I need to get on with too.’ And she needed to shower, dress, get a life. Because if she was reading his expression right, they were pretty much over.

  ‘Use my study.’ He didn’t touch her as he left.

  ‘Thanks.’ She swallowed, unable to believe his coolness—that he could shut down so quickly. Especially after this morning.

  Wow.

  She pressed her hand to her chest, squeezed out the memory of how he’d held her so tenderly only a couple of hours ago. She couldn’t think on that any more. Then she closed the door on that little bag out in the hall.

  She’d been right yesterday. It was time to end it. But she wasn’t going to run away—not this time. She’d wait and see him, tell him she was pressing ahead with the divorce.

  Closure would be hers.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  SEB looked up at the tall figure who’d just cast a long shadow across his desk and drawled, ‘Don’t tell me you want a divorce already.’

  ‘Very funny.’ His father shut the door behind him.

  Surprised, Seb sat back in his chair. ‘Shouldn’t you be on your honeymoon?’

  ‘Only took the weekend.’ His dad shrugged. ‘Paris.’

  ‘I’m sure it was romantic.’ He had no desire to hear any more details.

  ‘Janine’s pregnant.’

  For a long moment Seb couldn’t move. Finally he marshalled his wits enough to comment. ‘Congratulations.’ He made an effort to look pleased. ‘You’ve wanted that for a long time.’

  ‘Yeah.’ His father’s frown dissolved into a smile wider than the Zambezi river.

  Seb stood and walked round his desk. Shook his father’s hand and then pulled him into a hug. They hadn’t done affection in a while but if ever there was a time when it was warranted, it was now.

  Yet that tight feeling inside his chest clamped even harder. And it burned too.

  It wasn’t jealousy, was it? But he couldn’t stop the thoughts—he’d have a baby now if Ana’s pregnancy hadn’t gone awry. How weird would it have been for his child to have an uncle even younger than him? Well, hell, and a step-grandma only a few years older than its father too. The confusion made Seb’s brain start to ache. ‘Does Mum know?’

  His father looked guilty. ‘No. Not yet.’ He fidgeted.

  Seb’s whole body began to ache. He knew what was coming.

  ‘I was wondering if you might talk to her.’

  His dad didn’t want to deal with it, huh? He never had. ‘You want me to tell her for you.’

  ‘I don’t want to hurt her.’

  That was the real reason for this visit. To make Seb the go between—again. ‘Neither do I.’

  ‘You’re her son.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘You’re her whole life.’

  Wrong. He wasn’t anywhere near enough for her. She’d wanted more than him. He’d been only a fraction of what she wanted—not enough. Not ever enough.

  His father picked up one of the clippings the secretaries cut for him. A write-up of one of his most recent high-profile cases. The ugly break-up of a rock star and his aging model. Both drugged up in the past and now with two kids and several million pounds caught between them.

  ‘Your mother and I messed you around, didn’t we?’ His dad half laughed. ‘Stupid when you were the most precious thing to both of us. I won’t let that happen this time.’

  Seb looked away.

  ‘I fought for you, son. I’d always fight for you.’

  But he hadn’t been enough—they’d both wanted more than him and he hadn’t been able to hold them together. He’d worked so hard—tried to be the perfect son, sporty, academic, striving to succeed to please both his mother and his father. To be everything they wanted in a child. But they’d both wanted more.

  That was why he knew he wasn’t the man for Ana. If he hadn’t been enough for his parents, how could he be enough to hold her to him? And even if he tried, what if they couldn’t make the family she wanted? Wouldn’t that tear them apart as it had his parents?

  For she did want a family. He’d seen it in her eyes, had felt it as she’d shuddered with grief—the sadness over her loss. Sure she denied it. But seeing those shoes she still kept? The yearning was still there and one day it would bubble up. Could he stand to see her hurting time and time again if those children didn’t come?

  No. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t bear to be with her and then watch her slipping from him inch by inch over however long a torturous time.

  It was better to end it now. He had to end it now. Despite the agony already ripping inside him.

  Families always tore apart. Vows weren’t strong enough—they were only words that could be said and then denied or withdrawn.

  Going deeper than a casual affair had never been part of his life plan. He’d never wanted children, never wanted to drag any more innocents through the mess he’d been through—and like the hundreds of faceless names that littered his files day in, day out in this office. And yet, knowing how close he’d come, he now felt a prickle of loss.

  He turned away from it. Looked at his father and sighed. There was some responsibility he would always bear. ‘I’ll talk to Mum.’

  He didn’t know what help he’d be. He’d never been any use—not when he’d listened to her crying in her room at night, as month after month she’d been disappointed. New husband—still no luck. Always she’d wanted more—another child and another if she could.
No matter how hard Seb tried he couldn’t make her happy. He couldn’t fail Ana too. He refused.

  He drove home, feeling as if flu symptoms were coming—headachy, heavy limbed. Reluctant. But he had to do it—free her so she could find some else, someone who would fulfil her. Because he couldn’t carry the burden of her happiness—not hers or anyone else’s—he knew he wasn’t up to the job. That was why he only ever went with short term. Kept them smiling for a few weeks of fun and then flew far away.

  He only made it halfway to the kitchen when he saw her. He lurched to a stop. ‘What are you wearing?’

  ‘I told you I’d find a pair that would make me taller.’

  All he could do was stare.

  She walked up to him. Five-inch heels with a definite hint of the dominatrix about them. They took her height to his, yeah, maybe even a smidge taller. Her legs were incredible. And then he looked straight ahead. Straight into her eyes. And that was the moment the good intentions evaporated.

  Because such beauty shone back at him. Such strength. Meeting him eye to eye, nose to nose, mouth to mouth. And the confidence, the challenge was irresistible.

  He moved fast. Arms encircling, pulling tighter. And anger rose too. At the mistakes he’d made, the misunderstandings, the frustration of the last year and the hopelessness of his future. But, damn it, he would be with her one more time.

  He half lifted her the two steps it took to pin her back against the wall. He leaned in, loving the extra height the shoes gave her, because he could press his aching hard-on right against her pelvis.

  ‘What are you doing?’ She sounded angry.

  ‘I’m doing what you and I both want. What we’ve always wanted.’

  Her eyes closed. ‘I don’t want to want this.’

  ‘But you do.’ He undid his trousers and lifted her skirt in record time.

  But then he stopped. Ignored the burning in the pit of his stomach—the instinct screaming at him to just plunge and pump, fast and wild. And he ignored the plea in her now wide-open eyes—begging for the same.

  Yes, that was what she wanted, didn’t she? Fast, furious, all-physical sex. The quick release and then the escape.

  No more.

  For while he had to have her this once more, it was going to be the last time. And, as it had been this morning, it would be a slow torment. He pinned her body with his, held her head in his hands so he could look deep into her soul again as inch by inch he surged into her—nearly losing it completely when he heard her sigh and felt her convulse around him. But he withdrew and then repeated the action—slower, harder, slower. Again and then again. And it drove him insane with bliss. Her cries in his ears, her lips begging beneath his, her body contracting—holding him in its hot, sweet home.

  Long, long minutes later he pressed his hands to his forehead and faced facts. It wasn’t going to be once more, but one night more. He couldn’t resist. He swept her up into his arms and took her to his bed—unable to let her go. Not yet.

  This time when he lifted her Ana appreciated his strength, appreciated the moment of feeling like some petite slip of femininity. Her body lax, she melted into him, letting him take her weight—frighteningly easily—and let him take her to his bed.

  It shouldn’t have happened. Shouldn’t be happening again now. She’d meant to talk—to demand the divorce, to walk out. But he’d moved so fast. And always, as always, that need in her had risen.

  She sat up when he placed her gently on the bed. ‘Seb—’

  ‘Don’t.’

  She lifted her brows.

  ‘I don’t want to think, don’t want to talk. I just want to be with you. I just want you.’

  Oh, God, she couldn’t cope with his flip-flopping treatment of her. He’d gone so cold this morning and now here he was so hot for her again. She ought to be angry. She ought to be demanding to know what the hell was going on.

  But there was something new in his expression—both in his face and his voice. A rawness. Almost, she thought crazily, a kind of hurt. But Seb wasn’t hurt by all this. Seb didn’t feel this that deeply—did he? This was just another hot fling for him, right?

  She looked at him again—really looked at him. As deeply into his eyes as he was hers. And what she saw there made her gasp.

  ‘Yes,’ he growled. Intense as he pressed his weight onto hers again. ‘Yes.’

  There was no rest, no let-up from his touch. He built her up again and then again. So focused on her pleasure. His hands shaking as he touched every inch of her with such tenderness. But it was that look in his eyes that made her shake inside and out.

  ‘Seb?’

  ‘Shh.’ He kissed her quiet. ‘Let me. Just let me.’

  Let him what? Make love to her like this?

  For there was no other way to describe what he was doing. This wasn’t sex. This wasn’t lust. This was something far deeper, far stronger, far more significant than that.

  And could she trust it? The instinct telling her how serious this was? That Seb was serious about her? His fingers threaded into her hair and he turned her face towards him once more.

  ‘You should have everything, Ana. You deserve everything. I want you to have everything.’

  With his words something deep inside her shifted—that hurt was soothed, and for the first time in years her heart felt secure.

  Seb kissed her, stroked her, made love to her again. Watched with fierce pleasure as she arched and shattered and he told her the truth. ‘You’re so beautiful.’

  She sighed, limbs settling, relaxing into his after her pleasure had spiked. ‘You really know how to make a woman feel good, Seb.’

  He froze. If there was ever a time to regret his old playboy ways that was it—that one little comment shattered his most secret dream.

  Did she put it down to experience—think it was just the cheap line he spun to any woman warming his bed? Was this still only an affair for her? Suddenly insecurity reared within him.

  He leaned over her, looking into her face to catch every nuance. ‘If I hadn’t have made that comment, on Mnemba—’ he paused, watching her close ‘—would you ever have told me?’

  Would she ever have trusted him? Would she ever have shared that loss with him? Would she ever have chosen to turn to him for comfort?

  He watched as she froze. His heart dropped as her gaze lowered. And he knew her answer before she gave it—no.

  Her lashes suddenly swooped up and she looked back at him. ‘Would you ever have wanted me to? Honestly?’

  ‘Yes,’ he answered. Meaning it more than he’d ever meant anything.

  But her lashes dropped again, hiding her reaction. So he knew. She still didn’t believe him.

  And how did he do it? He’d been trained in the art of convincing, in proving, in making his case and winning arguments. But he seemed to have no possible hope here. How could he convince her? How to reassure her? What on earth could he do to make her believe in him? Words were not enough for Ana—that he did know. It needed to be actions—something he could do to shatter the walls she’d built around the very core of her heart, stopping him from getting all the way in there.

  He desperately longed to say sorry. But he couldn’t even do that, could he? She’d accuse him of sympathy sex again. So he pulled her close, worshipped her with his body, tried to show her that he did care.

  But early in the morning he dragged himself away from her warmth. ‘You sleep in.’

  He’d buried deep into her so many times during the night and spent the remaining time awake and alternately angry and despondent. The last thing he wanted to do was leave now but he had no choice. Besides, he had an obligation. He needed to be there to talk to his mother. It would be better for her to find out from him than anyone else. And the thought of the hurt she’d been through reinforced his decision to leave Ana. She needed to be with someone who could give her everything she wanted—and that person was not him.

  He showered, turned the water cold to try to jolt his muscles into
action. But when dressed he stood at the foot of his bed and looked at the beautiful long length quietly dozing. That fierce yearning swept over him. She was so warm and soft and he wanted to hold her close and sleep. But she deserved more, so much more than the little he could guarantee. As he’d told her last night, he wanted her to have everything.

  Yet he couldn’t resist getting closer one last time. He sat on the bed. Her eyes were closed but he felt her awareness of him. He kissed her, felt her soften and flow around him. But before she roused too much he laid her back on the pillow, easing out of the kiss, soothing rather than stirring. He wanted her to sleep. He straightened, tore his eyes away, and forced his leaden legs to move. Away.

  Down in his study he held the file, hesitating for just a moment, reluctant to sever the connection. But this was the only way. Yet another idea teased him, another option—one so sweet and intoxicating that he burned with longing. Wished he could start again—rewind and replay with sincerity this time. Would that be the proof she needed?

  But it was stupid, an impossible idea. So he uncapped the pen and scrawled across the paper. Closed the file and tossed it to the desk. Then he ran.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  FOUR hours later Seb sat across from his mother. Customers filled every table but the exclusive restaurant offered privacy as well. He’d reserved a small booth and ensured his mother had her back to the others—in case there was a meltdown. She’d be able to mop up with some dignity and not have a restaurant full of people wonder why she was bawling. He supposed he should have met her privately, but he needed the public around to prevent his own meltdown.

  He took in a breath, might as well get it over. ‘I saw Dad yesterday.’

  ‘Did you?’ She sat back in her chair and looked hard at the carafe of water in front of her. ‘Janine’s pregnant, isn’t she?’

  Sebastian lowered his glass. ‘How did you know?’

  ‘I guessed as much. Obvious from the speed of that wedding. And she didn’t drink. Nor did Eric, which is very unusual.’ She tilted her head to the side and gave him a twisted, tender smile. ‘He sent you to tell me, didn’t he?’