But she would not date a married man. She wouldn’t kiss a married man. Even when he was nearly divorced. Even when he was Jake Marlowe. No way did she want to be caught up in any media speculation about being ‘the other woman’ in his divorce. And then there was the fact that her ex had cheated on her towards the end of their marriage. She didn’t know Jake’s wife. But she wouldn’t want to cause her the same kind of pain.
Suffocating with disappointment, Eliza stepped back from him. She didn’t have expectations of any kind of relationship with him—just wanted a chance to explore the surprising connection between them. Starting with a kiss. Then...? Who knew?
She cleared her throat. ‘I wish—’ she started to say.
But then an alarm started beeping, shrill and intrusive. Startled, she jumped.
Jake glanced down at his watch, swore under his breath. ‘Midnight,’ he said. ‘I usually call Australia now, for a business catch-up.’ He switched off the alarm. ‘But not tonight.’
It seemed suddenly very quiet on the terrace, with only faint strains of music coming from the ballroom, distant laughter from a couple at the other end of the terrace. Eliza was aware of her own breathing and the frantic pounding of her heart.
‘No. Make your call. It’s late. I have to go.’
She doubted he’d guessed the intensity of her disappointment, how much she’d had pinned on this meeting—and she didn’t want him to see it on her face. She turned, picked up her long, full skirts and prepared to run.
Then Jake took hold of her arm and pulled her back to face him. ‘Don’t go, Eliza. Please.’
* * *
Jake watched as Eliza struggled to contain her disappointment. She seemed to pride herself on having a poker face. But her feelings were only too apparent to him. And her disappointment had nothing on his.
‘But I have to go,’ she said as she tried to pull away from him. ‘You’re still married. We can’t—’
‘Act on the attraction that’s been there since the get go?’
Mutely, she nodded.
Their first meeting had been electric—an instant something between them. For him it had been a revelation. A possibility of something new and exciting beyond the dead marriage he had been struggling to revive. Eliza had been so beautiful, so smart, so interesting—yet so unattainable. The second time they’d met he’d realised the attraction was mutual. And tonight he’d sensed in her the same longing for more that he felt.
But it was still not their time to explore it. She’d made it very clear the last time they’d met that she could not be friends with a married man—and certainly not more than friends. He’d respected her stance. As a wealthy man he’d met more than a few women with dollar signs flashing in their eyes who had held no regard for a man’s wedding vows—or indeed their own.
When Tristan had asked him to be best man at his wedding he’d said yes straight away. The bonus had been a chance to see Eliza again. In her modest lavender dress she’d been the loveliest of the bridesmaids, eclipsing—at least in his admittedly biased eyes—even the bride. Tonight, in a formal gown that showed off her tiny waist and feminine curves, she rivalled any of the royalty in the ballroom.
‘This is not what I’d hoped for this evening,’ he said.
‘Me neither.’ Her voice was barely louder than a whisper as she looked up to him.
He caught his breath at how beautiful she was. Her eyes were a brilliant blue that had him struggling to describe them—like sapphires was the closest he could come. They were framed by brows and lashes as black as her hair, in striking contrast to her creamy skin. Irish colouring, he suspected. He knew nothing about her heritage, very little about her.
Jake thirsted to know more.
He—a man who had thought he could never be interested in another woman. Who had truly thought he had married for life. He’d been so set on hanging on to his marriage to a woman who didn’t want to be married any more—who had long outgrown him and he her—that he hadn’t let himself think of any other. Until he’d met Eliza. And seen hope for the future.
He cursed the fact that the divorce process was taking so long. At first he’d delayed it because he’d hoped he could work things out with his soon-to-be ex-wife. Even though she’d had become virtually a stranger to him. Then he’d discovered how she’d betrayed him. Now he was impatient to have it settled, all ties severed.
‘A few months and I’ll be free. It’s so close, Eliza. In fact it’s debatable that I’m not single again already. It’s just a matter of a document. Couldn’t we—?’
He could see her internal debate, the emotions flitting across her face. Was pleased to see that anticipation was one of them. But he was not surprised when she shook her head.
‘No,’ she said, in a voice that wasn’t quite steady. ‘Not until you’re legally free. Not until we can see each other with total honesty.’
How could he fault her argument? He admired her integrity. Although he groaned his frustration. Not with her, but with the situation.
He pulled her close in a hug. It was difficult not to turn it into something more, not to tilt her face up to his and kiss her. A campaign of sensual kisses and subtle caresses might change her mind—he suspected she wanted him as much as he wanted her. But she was right. He wasn’t ready—in more ways than one.
‘As soon as the divorce is through I’ll get in touch, come see you in Sydney.’ He lived in Brisbane, the capital city of Queensland, about an hour’s flight north.
Scarcely realising he was doing so, he stroked the smooth skin of her bare shoulders, her exposed back. It was a gesture more of reassurance than anything overtly sexual. He couldn’t let himself think about Eliza and sex. Not now. Not yet. Or he’d go crazy.
Her head was nestled against his shoulder and he felt her nod. ‘I’d like that,’ she said, her voice muffled.
He held her close for a long, silent moment. Filled his senses with her sweet floral scent, her warmth. Wished he didn’t have to let her go. Then she pulled away. Looked up at him. Her cheeks were flushed pink, which intensified the blue of her eyes.
‘I’ve been in Montovia for a week. I fly out to Sydney tomorrow morning. I won’t see you again,’ she said.
‘I have meetings in Zurich,’ he said. ‘I’ll be gone very early.’
‘So...so this is goodbye,’ she said.
He put his fingers to the soft lushness of her mouth. ‘Until next time,’ he said.
For a long moment she looked up at him, searching his face with those remarkable eyes. Then she nodded. ‘Until next time.’
Without another word Eliza turned away from him and walked away down the long enclosed terrace that ran along the outside of the ballroom. She did not turn back.
Jake watched her. Her back was held erect, the full skirts of her deep blue dress with its elaborately beaded bodice nipped into her tiny waist swishing around her at each step. He watched her until she turned to the right through an archway. Still she didn’t look back, although he had his hand ready to wave farewell to her. Then she disappeared out of sight.
She left behind her just the lingering trace of her scent. He breathed it in to capture its essence. Took a step to go after her, then halted himself. He had no right to call her back a second time. He groaned and slammed his hand against the ancient stone wall.
For a long time he looked out through the window to the still lake beyond. Then he looked back to the ballroom. Without Eliza to dance with there was no point in returning. Besides, he felt like an impostor among the glittering throng. His role as best man, as friend to the Prince, gave him an entrée to their world. His multi-million-dollar houses and string of prestige European cars made him look the part.
Would they welcome him so readily into their elite company if they knew the truth about his past? Would Eliza find him so appealing
if she knew his secrets?
He took out his phone and made his business call, in desperate need of distraction.
CHAPTER TWO
Six months later
ELIZA NOTICED JAKE MARLOWE the instant he strode into the business class lounge at Sydney’s Kingsford Smith Airport. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a surfer’s blond hair and tan, his good looks alone would attract attention. The fact that he was a billionaire whose handsome face was often in the media guaranteed it. Heads turned discreetly as he made his way with his easy, athletic stride towards the coffee station.
He was half a room away from her, but awareness tingled down Eliza’s spine. A flush of humiliation warmed her cheeks. She hadn’t seen him or heard from him since the wedding in Montovia, despite his promise to get in touch when his divorce was through. And here he was—on his way out of Sydney.
Jake had been in her hometown for heaven knew how long and hadn’t cared to get in touch. She thought of a few choice names for him but wouldn’t let herself mutter them, even under her breath. Losing her dignity over him was not worth it.
Over the last months she’d gone past disappointed, through angry, to just plain embarrassed that she’d believed him. That she’d allowed herself to spin hopes and dreams around seeing him again—finally being able to act on that flare of attraction between them. An attraction that, despite her best efforts to talk herself out of it, had flamed right back to life at the sight of him. She’d failed dismally in her efforts to extinguish it. He looked just as good in faded jeans and black T-shirt as he looked in a tuxedo. Better, perhaps. Every hot hunk sensor in her body alerted her to that.
But good looks weren’t everything. She’d kidded herself that Jake was something he wasn’t. Sure, they’d shared some interesting conversations, come close to a kiss. But when it boiled down to it, it appeared he was a slick tycoon who’d known how to spin the words he’d thought would please her. And she’d been sucker enough to fall for it. Had there been anything genuine about him?
Jake had put her through agony by not getting in touch when he’d said he would. She never wanted that kind of emotional turmoil in her life again. Especially not now, when Party Queens was in possible peril. She needed all her wits about her to ensure the future of the company that had become her life.
Perhaps back then she’d been convenient for Jake—the bridesmaid paired with the best man. An instant temporary couple. Now he was single and oh-so-eligible he must have women flinging themselves at him from all sides. Even now, as she sneaked surreptitious glances at him, a well-dressed woman edged up close to him, smiling up into his face.
Jake laughed at something she said. Eliza’s senses jolted into hyper mode. He looked so handsome when he laughed. Heck, he looked so handsome whatever he did.
Darn her pesky libido. Her brain could analyse exactly what she didn’t want in a man, but then her body argued an opposing message. She’d let her libido take over at Gemma’s wedding, when she’d danced with Jake and let herself indulge in a fantasy that there could be something between them one day. But she prided herself on her self-control. Eliza allowed herself a moment to let her eyes feast on him, in the same way she would a mouthwatering treat she craved but was forbidden to have. Then she ducked her head and hid behind the pale pink pages of her favourite financial newspaper.
Perhaps she hadn’t ducked fast enough—perhaps she hadn’t masked the hunger in her gaze as successfully as she’d thought. Or perhaps Jake had noticed her when he came in as readily as she had noticed him.
Just moments later she was aware of him standing in front of her, legs braced in a way that suggested he wasn’t going anywhere. Her heart started to thud at a million miles an hour. As she lowered the newspaper and looked up at him she feigned surprise. But the expression in his green eyes told her she hadn’t fooled him one little bit.
She gathered all her resolve to school her face into a mask of polite indifference. He could not know how much he’d hurt her. Not hurt. That gave him too much power. Offended. His divorce had been splashed all over the media for the last three months. Yet there’d been no phone call from him. What a fool she’d been to have expected one. She’d obviously read way too much into that memorable ‘next time’ farewell.
Eliza went to get up but he sat down in the vacant seat next to her and angled his body towards her. In doing so he brushed his knee against her thigh, and she tried desperately not to gasp at his touch. Her famed self-control seemed to wobble every which way when she found herself within touching distance of Jake Marlowe.
He rested his hands on his thighs, which brought them too close for comfort. She refused to let herself think about how good they’d felt on her body in that close embrace of their dance. She could not let herself be blinded by physical attraction to the reality of this man.
‘Eliza,’ he said.
‘Jake,’ she said coolly, with a nod of acknowledgment.
She crossed her legs to break contact with his. Made a show of folding her newspaper, its rustle satisfyingly loud in the silence between them.
There was a long, awkward pause. She had no intention of helping him out by being the first one to dive into conversation. Not when he’d treated her with such indifference. Surely the thread of friendship they’d established had entitled her to better.
She could see he was looking for the right words, and at any other time she might have felt sorry for this intelligent, successful man who appeared to be struggling to make conversation. Would have fed him words to make it easier for him. But she knew how articulate Jake could be. How he had charmed her. This sudden shyness must be all part of his game. It seemed he felt stymied at seeing her by accident when he’d so obviously not wanted to see her by intent.
She really should hold her tongue and let him stumble through whatever he had to say. But she knew there wasn’t much time before her flight would be called. And this might be her only chance to call him on the way he had broken his promise.
Of course it hadn’t been a promise as such. But, spellbound by the magic of that royal wedding in Montovia, she had believed every word about there being a ‘next time’, when he was free. She’d never believed in fairytales—but she’d believed in him.
Even though the lounge chairs were spaced for privacy in the business class lounge—not crammed on top of each other like at the airport gate, where she was accustomed to waiting for a flight—she was aware that she and Jake were being observed and might possibly be overheard. She would have to be discreet.
She leaned closer to him and spoke in an undertone. ‘So whatever happened to getting in touch? I see from the media that your divorce is well and truly done and delivered. You’re now considered to be the most eligible bachelor in the country. You must be enjoying that.’
Jake shifted in his seat. Which brought his thigh back in touch with her knee. She pointedly crossed her legs again to break the contact. It was way too distracting.
‘You couldn’t be more wrong.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I want to explain.’
Eliza didn’t want to hear his half-hearted apologies. She glanced at her watch. ‘I don’t think so. My flight is about to be called.’
‘So is mine. Where are you headed?’
It would be childish to spit, None of your business, so she refrained. ‘Port Douglas.’
She’d been counting the days until she could get up to the resort in far north-east tropical Queensland. From Sydney she was flying to Cairns, the nearest airport. She needed to relax—to get away from everyday distractions so she could get her head around what she needed to do to ensure Party Queens’ ongoing success.
Jake’s expression, which had bordered on glum, brightened perceptibly. ‘Are you on Flight 321 to Cairns? So am I.’
Eliza felt the colour drain from her face. It couldn’t be. It just couldn’t be. Australia was an enormo
us country. Yet she happened to be flying to the same destination as Jake Marlowe. What kind of cruel coincidence was that?
‘Yes,’ she said through gritted teeth.
Port Douglas was a reasonably sized town. The resort she was booked into was pretty much self-contained. She would make darn sure she didn’t bump into him.
Just then they called the flight. She went to rise from her seat. Jake put his hand on her arm to detain her. She flinched.
He spoke in a fierce undertone. ‘Please, Eliza. I know it was wrong of me not to have got in touch as I said I would. But I had good reason.’
She stared at him, uncertain whether or not to give him the benefit of the doubt. He seemed so sincere. But then he’d seemed so sincere at the wedding. Out there on the terrace, in a place and at a time that hardly seemed real any more. As if it had been a fairytale. How could she believe a word he said?
‘A phone call to explain would have sufficed. Even a text.’
‘That wouldn’t have worked. I want you to hear me out.’
There was something about his request that was difficult to resist. She wanted to hear what he had to say. Out of curiosity, if nothing else. Huh! Who was she kidding? How could she not want to hear what he had to say? After six months of wondering why the deafening silence?
She relented. ‘Perhaps we could meet for a coffee in Port Douglas.’ At a café. Not her room. Or his. For just enough time to hear his explanation. Then she could put Jake Marlowe behind her.
‘How are you getting to Port Douglas from Cairns?’ he asked.
‘I booked a shuttle bus from the airport to the resort.’
His eyebrows rose in such disbelief it forced from her a reluctant smile.
‘Yes, a shuttle bus. It’s quite comfortable—and so much cheaper than a taxi for an hour-long trip. That’s how we non-billionaires travel. I’m flying economy class, too.’
The Bridesmaid's Baby Bump Page 2
