Tempted by the Billionaire: A Hometown Hero Series Novel

by Connelly, Clare

  “Does he know the president?”

  Madeline’s smile was thin. “He does.” She leaned a little closer, so that their faces were only inches apart. “And so do I.”

  The little girl was struck silent, her big black eyes peering at Madeline sceptically, as if deciding whether to believe her or not. “My name is Ivy,” she said finally. Madeline took it as a sign that Ivy had decided that Maddie was being honest.

  “Very nice to meet you, Ivy,” Madeline responded earnestly. “My name’s Madeline.”

  “Madeline. That’s pretty.” She frowned. “You’re pretty.”

  Madeline laughed. How long had it been since she’d laughed? She lifted her sunglasses from her face and held them between two fingers in her lap. They weren’t necessary on that bleak October morning, but she had slipped them on out of habit. “Thank you, Ivy. How old are you?”

  “I’m almost six.” She grinned. “But everyone says I’m small for my age.”

  Madeline made a show of regarding her thoughtfully. “I don’t think you’re too small. I think you definitely look six.”

  “Oh, really?” Madeline could tell Ivy was delighted with this information.

  Madeline’s nod was considered. “And I know the president. He’d agree with me.”

  Ivy appeared to glow with pleasure. “Woah.”

  Madeline knew she should leave the sweet little girl. Her Mercedes convertible was still a little walk away.

  “Why’d you leave Whitegate?”

  Madeline’s heart turned over painfully in her chest. Why, indeed? Which answer would be the most palatable to an almost six year old? Blackmail? Heart break? Pride? Snobbery? Betrayal? Crime? She was a senator’s daughter and a congressman’s wife. Keeping emotion off her face was a skill she had mastered long ago. “To go to college.”

  Ivy nodded. “No good colleges in Whitegait.”

  It was such a serious observation that Madeline had to hide her smile. She suspected Ivy wouldn’t like to be a source of amusement.

  The lone seagull flapped heavily in the sky and landed just in front of them. Ivy reached into a little handbag and pulled out a piece of bread. She broke off a crust and threw it at the bird. It squawked noisily as it caught it in its beak.

  “Where’s your husband now?” The young girl asked, pulling another piece of bread out and tossing it towards the flock of gulls that had appeared out of nowhere.

  “Still in Washington.” Dean would come when it was time. Not before. No need for both of them to sit vigil at the bedside of a dying man they couldn’t stand.

  “Did he give you this? It’s really nice.” Ivy was pointing at Madeline’s engagement ring.

  Out of habit, Madeline twisted it around, spinning the enormous diamond so that it was concealed in the palm of her hand. The size was perfectly appropriate for a Congressman’s wife, but it had always made Madeline self-conscious. No one needed a six carat diamond on their finger. And then, out of nowhere, she thought of her first engagement ring. The tiny little cluster of imperfect gems, bound into the shape of a star, on a thin piece of gold. How she had loved that ring. Giving it back had been like knifing herself in the stomach.

  “It is, isn’t it,” Madeline forced herself to agree, even though the ring had never suited her. She wouldn’t be wearing it much longer. Soon, Kenneth Bartlett would be dead, and Dean and Madeline could end their farce of a marriage.

  “He must love you. Like, a lot.”

  Madeline arched her brow and fixed the girl with a curious look. “You know a lot about how the world works, don’t you, Ivy?”

  Ivy nodded sagely. “I spend a lotta time with grown ups. I pay attention.”

  “I see,” Madeline’s expression was shrewd. “And where are your grown ups now?”

  “Working,” she said simply. “Over there.” She pointed in the direction of the town’s main street. A baker, a general store, a hardware and a gift shop-cum-art gallery that catered to the Summer tourist, trade lined the pretty little street.

  “Do you… are you meant to be out here on your own?”

  Ivy rolled her eyes in a way that was so perfectly dismissive, Madeline thought it would take her years to perfect an imitation. “I’m almost six. Not four.”

  “Of course.” Whitegait was a whole other world. That feeling of freedom… most of her friends had felt that. Growing up as a Bartlett had complicated matters for Madeline.

  As if she could read her thoughts, Ivy asked, “Why? What did you do when you were my age?”

  “Hmmm,” She frowned. There had been lots of time with grown ups too, but it had involved wearing very uncomfortable, restrictive dresses and sitting quietly in the corner, pretending to read books that held little interest for her. She’d stared out at the glistening ocean in the distance and wished, wished with all her heart, that she’d been born to a normal family. “I used to play at home.”

  “Our home’s nice, but I like being here more.”

  Madeline looked out at the sludgy grey sea. “What do you like about it?’

  “Because Daddy told me that if I squint really hard, I might be able to see all the way to Portugal.” She grinned. “I keep squinting, but at most I see boats.”

  Madeline had to laugh. “Maybe one day it will be Portugal?”

  Ivy rolled her eyes again. “Maybe a boat from Portugal.”

  “Maybe.” She looked at the girl with the silk dark hair, studying her features in detail. “I should get going.”

  Ivy returned the direct stare. “You don’t sound like you wanna.”

  Madeline’s stomach clenched with anxiety. “We have to do things we don’t want, sometimes.”

  “Daddy says that all the time.” She let out a huff; a perfect, grown up sigh. “Life isn’t just about fun, Ivy Louise.”

  “Well, your daddy sounds like a smart man.”

  Ivy nodded. “He is. Why don’t you wanna go?”

  Madeline turned away from Ivy’s darkly inquisitive gaze. A trawler in the distance bobbed up and down, looking like a tiny piece of red flotsam on the surface of the ocean, from where she sat. “This is my favourite place to sit, too.”

  “It is?” Ivy raised her eyebrows. “Why?”

  It was where she’d been, when he’d proposed. She allowed herself the rare indulgence of closing her eyes and remembering that perfect, perfect moment. All the more spectacularly wonderful for how short lived her pleasure had been. He’d gone down on bended knee, and in the late afternoon sun, his blonde hair had caught the dusk, showing shades of orange and peach. His skin had been golden, his eyes glowing as blue as the sky. And he’d promised to love her forever and always, and asked her to become his wife. Only he hadn’t loved her forever and always, and she hadn’t become his wife. She’d said yes, but fate and destiny had apparently had other ideas.

  She blinked, as if the sheer force of her eyelashes batting against her cheeks could push the memories away. “Because someone very wise once told me that if you squint, you can see all the way to Portugal.”

  Ivy laughed now, a sweet sound, like popcorn bursting in the microwave. “No, silly. That’s me.”

  “Oh! So it is.” She grinned. “It’s the best seat in town. Have you ever watched a sunrise from here?”

  “Nope.” She shook her head from side to side.

  Madeline ground one of her pumps into the gravel, enjoying the way it made a crackling sound beneath her feet. “I have.” She was talking to Ivy, but sinking inexorably back in time. “I used to make myself a thermos of tea and ride my bike to town, when the sky was still black, and the stars were still shining. I loved sitting here, and watching the first bits of pink streak across the sky. Like fingers reaching for something they can never quite touch. Then there’s orange, flame bright, and insistent, and finally, the sun. An enormous fiery ball that comes from nowhere and burns into the blackness of the night.” She sighed. “I used to sit here and sip my tea, and wonder how many times the sun had made that same journey. How
many times I’d get to see it in my lifetime.”

  She looked at her little companion, surprised to realise that her philosophical ramblings had entranced the child, rather than bored her. “Wow. It sounds like something out of a very good story.”

  Madeline did her best to hide her smile but her lips twitched at the corners. “Yes, you’re right. A good sunrise is a bit like a storybook.”

  “Maybe you could… I mean… maybe one day while you’re here I could meet you? To see the sun come up?”

  Madeline felt a faint breeze of disapproval. “You don’t know me, Ivy. You shouldn’t invite strangers to meet with you.”

  Ivy was chastened. “Oh.” She dropped her eyes. “You’re right. It’s just… I mean…”

  “It’s okay,” Madeline took pity on her. “I’m nice. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m friends with the president, remember? But, in general, you should check with your folks when you meet someone new.”

  Madeline couldn’t believe she was giving such grown up advice. When had she become an expert on parenting? She shook her head. Children were not something she had any experience with. She had no clue if her advice was good or bad. Uncharacteristically nervous, she stood. “I’d better be going.”

  Ivy nodded, and fixed her gaze back out to sea. “Nice talking to you.”

  “You too. I might see you around.”

  She slid her glasses back over her eyes and quickened her pace a little, though nothing would save her from a firm Kenneth Bartlett lecture now.

  “Ivy! Ivy Louise, are you out here?”

  It wasn’t the words, so much as the voice, that had her whipping around so hard and fast she almost gave herself whiplash. The fog was thick. She could just make out the tall, broad shouldered figure cutting through the clouds. Her shaking legs carried her back to Ivy on autopilot.

  “That’s my dad,” Ivy said, with another of her perfect little eye rolls. “He gets a bit annoyed when I disappear.”

  With good reason, Madeline was tempted to chide gently. But she couldn’t speak. Her mouth was dry. She was not given to nerves. At least, not outwardly. She had met celebrities and politicians all her life. But the approach of one man had her body shaking as though she were a fish hooked on the end of a line.

  “Ivy? How many times have I told you to let me know when you come out here?”

  He was wearing faded blue jeans and a black sweater. Damn it, he looked good. Eight years and he was so much more handsome than he had been when they’d parted. She swallowed past the lump in her throat and straightened her spine. Anyone looking at Madeline May Howard would have thought she was supremely in control of the situation. But she knew differently. She was a tangle of emotions, waiting for the axe to fall.

  “I was just meeting someone new,” Ivy defended quickly, pointing to Madeline.

  She stayed where she was, her feet planted to the path. The moment Harrison’s eyes lifted to Madeline, she was sure her heart gave out.

  “Daddy, this is Madeline.”

  He was as shocked as she. Perhaps more so, for Madeline had been coming home, and had known there was a chance she would run into her past. He, possibly, didn’t know the entire Bartlett family was descending on the ranch to appear to farewell Kenneth with a level of respect that was befitting a man of his reputed standing.

  His eyes – blue like ice chips – raked over her from top to bottom. No one had ever made Madeline feel ridiculous, for the simple reason that she had been taught to value appropriateness over all else. She was always impeccably groomed, utterly beyond reproach. But the way Harrison’s eyes analysed her elegant chignon, then her designer coat and suit, down to her heels, made Madeline want to shuffle her feet uncomfortably. She didn’t, of course, but the desire was there.

  “Go and see your Gran. She’s got a hot cocoa for you.”

  “Yippee!” Ivy slipped off the bench and grabbed her father’s fingers. “Daddy, can I come watch the sunrise with Madeline one morning?”

  “No, pumpkin. Madeline won’t be in town long enough for that.”

  Ivy’s crestfallen face was a picture. She opened her mouth to argue forth another point but Harrison silenced her. “Go. Now.”

  The little girl threw one last wistful glance in Madeline’s direction then scampered off.

  Leaving Madeline alone with the man she’d once promised to marry.

  The man she did, and always would, love with all her heart.

  “Hello, Harrison.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Such a small statement to make. Feet of gravel spread between them but it might as well have been a torrent of raging water, for all the ease with which they could traverse it. He wedged his hands in his pockets and continued to stare at her, that slightly mocking cynicism cast into his face.

  “It’s you.” His voice was just as she remembered it. Like butter on warm bread, so smooth and deep, it inspired a physical reaction in her body. The words that voice had whispered to her; the promises it had made.

  She almost groaned at the intensity of her feelings.

  “Yes. It’s me.”

  He frowned, and as he took a step closer, she saw that there were some lines around his eyes now, that had not been there years ago. Laughter lines, they told of a happy life. A life far more filled with mirth than her own. The old Madeline would have pulled her lip between her teeth and stared out at the sea. The new Madeline lifted her sunglasses and met his blue eyes head on. Unflinchingly, unapologetically unafraid.

  “How are you, Harrison?”

  He seemed to make a similar effort to pull himself together. “I’m fine. What brings you to Whitegate?”

  She blanched at the very idea of mentioning her father to this man. For her father had been instrumental in pulling apart, at the seams, the garment of their relationship. “Kenneth.”

  As she might have predicted, his dark blue eyes flecked with an emotion that matched the storm brewing over the Atlantic. “Did the old bastard finally summon you back? Wasn’t finished beating you over the head with your perceived errors yet?”

  She didn’t react. Harrison’s hatred for her father was matched only by her own. “He’s dying.”

  “Shit.” He shook his head and dragged a hand through the honeyed crop. “I’m sorry, Maddie.” The childhood nickname came easily. He shook his head again, as if to erase any trace of that long-forgotten intimacy. “Madeline. I’m sorry, Madeline.”

  She nodded. “Usually, I’d try to look grief-stricken. Or at least appropriately sad. That would be transparently false with you though, wouldn’t it?”

  A hint of a smile kissed his handsome features. “Yeah.” He shrugged. “If you need help dancing on the old man’s grave, just let me know the time.”

  This man had been her future, at one time. Were the theories of parallel universes true? Could she at least hope that there was another world out there? One in which her father hadn’t known what he did? Hadn’t used that information to end their relationship? Might she have been happily married to Harrison, after all, with their own little Ivy running around?

  Who could say? Not Madeline. What she did know was that Harrison had moved on. Had married, and had a baby. A little girl with huge chocolate eyes, a winning smile and an inquisitive nature that was just like her father.

  “Where’s your husband, Maddie?”

  Oh, the pain those words inflicted to her battered heart. For Harrison to ask about Dean was almost impossible to bear. Now, Madeline did flicker her eyes to the horizon, in a telling sign of discomfort. Harrison noticed. Hell, he noticed everything about this woman anyway. Always had done. Since he had first seen her, he felt as though he’d been struck by lightning. But his job as the town’s Chief of Police meant he had particularly keen analytical skills.

  “Still in D.C.” There could be no point going into her sad, inevitable marriage breakdown with the man she’d once loved.

  Harrison’s lips compressed minutely. “Coming to the funeral?”

 
Out of misplaced loyalty, Madeline closed her eyes and whispered, “He’s not dead yet, Harrison.”

  “A man can dream.”

  Madeline looked at him with a sense of distant, gaping hurt. “Your little girl is lovely, Harrison.”

  The mention of Ivy made his features relax. He tossed a rueful look over his shoulder, in the direction his daughter had walked moments earlier. “She’s part lovely, part troublemaker.”

  “Takes after you then,” she murmured, allowing herself the brief indulgence of properly admiring his handsome face. Those eyes, so mysterious and filled with secrets, rimmed with dark lashes. They were the deepest blue, and they always betrayed his mood.

  “Unfortunately, in most ways, yes. Wish she had a bit more of her mother in her.”

  His reference to Sally, Ivy’s mother, made her blood fill with ice water. Unlike Madeline, Harrison had married for love. He’d truly moved his life forward. Though Harrison didn’t know it, Madeline had met Sally. Had liked her. The moment she’d realised who Harrison had chosen to live his life with, after her, Madeline had understood that she’d lost him for good. In the brief time she’d spent with Sally, Madeline had seen for herself the woman’s kind, generous heart, and sweet nature. He’d found someone far more capable of giving him happiness, and she’d given him a child too. Madeline squared her shoulders, as she might have done if she were going into a policy meeting with important lawmakers.

  “I should go. I’m late.” What more was there to say? Where could they even begin?

  She was so distant. This woman he’d once loved with all his heart. She might as well have been a stranger to him, for all the connection he felt with her. That coldness infuriated him. It offended him. Though he could usually be counted on to keep a firm grip on his temper, he felt it dropping out of his control now. His words came out as a condemning hiss. “Go. For God’s sake, go. Get out of Whitegate as soon as you can, Madeline. If I never see you again, it will be too soon.”

  She turned and strode away before he could see the way his harsh words had affected her. The way his dismissal had dug a hole into her being.