His last hope had been that maybe she’d conceived his child and he could use that to make her stay married to him. Then, this morning, she’d launched into that little speech about getting her period.
And she’d been smiling, as if she was glad he understood there’d be nothing binding her to him once the terms of the contract were met.
So he’d walked away rather than say something he’d regret, spent the day trying to figure out a way to approach her that would change her mind.
In midafternoon he’d thought, Screw this. Forget about work. Forget about a plan. He’d just go home, take Ana in his arms, tell her he adored her and that she had to feel the same way about him, she had to…
Except she was gone.
“Mrs. Hollowell. Exactly what happened here today?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary. Well, except maybe Ana seemed a little, I don’t know, sad. So when Mr. Hamilton stopped by after lunch, looking for her—”
“My lawyer was here?”
“Yes. Looking for your wife. And since she’d seemed a bit down, I thought perhaps a little visit with someone would cheer her up. I told him she’d gone to the park and that I knew she almost always sat near the Alice statue.”
“Charles Hamilton went to see Ana?” Linc said in a low voice.
“As far as I know, he did. And, oh, I almost forgot. There was one other thing. When your wife returned home…” The housekeeper dug in her apron pocket. “She left this on the kitchen counter, Mr. Aldridge. I didn’t know whether to throw it out or—”
Linc stared at the bits of paper in Mrs. Hollowell’s outstretched palm. He took them, spread them on the counter, shuffled the pieces…
And groaned.
He was looking at the check he’d made out to Ana and given to his lawyer for safekeeping, right after they’d signed that goddamned contract.
At the time it had seemed the responsible thing to do.
“Charles,” he said through his teeth, crushing the pieces of paper in his fist, but he knew better than to give in to his fury. There’d be time to deal with it later.
Now, finding Ana was all that mattered.
* * *
Where would she have gone? Home to Brazil? He didn’t think so but anything was possible.
He took his Porsche. It was a fast car and every minute counted. When he’d started doing business in Brazil, he’d stored the phone numbers of all the airlines that flew to Rio from Kennedy in his cell phone.
Now he punched them up. Only one had a flight leaving, and it was leaving soon. Was an Ana Maria Marques on the passenger list? Nobody would tell him. Security was his business so he understood why they wouldn’t, but if his Ana was on that flight…
He drove like a madman, ignored blaring horns and raised middle fingers, but by the time he reached the airport the plane was gone. Five hundred bucks slipped to a counter agent got him the information he needed.
Ana had not been on the plane.
Where next? There were eight million people in the city. How was he going to find one woman, one incredible woman whom he loved with all his heart?
Think, he told himself furiously, think.
The hotel where she’d originally been registered? Where she’d stashed all those suitcases filled with her dress-for-success suits? It was as good a guess as any.
He got there fast, skidded the Porsche into the no-parking zone in front of the door and ran into the lobby.
“Ana Maria Marques,” he said to the desk clerk. “Is she registered here?”
She was, but the guy wouldn’t tell him her room number. More security, and Linc, the security expert, wanted to reach across the desk and grab the man who was only doing his job and shake the information out of him.
Yeah, but that would only get him arrested. So would banging on the doors on every floor, yelling Ana’s name.
He took another look at the front desk. The hotel was old. The clerk had a computer, but a wall of numbered mail slots stretched behind him. Did they use those or were they for show?
Only one way to find out.
Linc got the hotel’s number from a stack of brochures on the desk and punched it into his cell phone. The clerk answered; Linc said he wanted to leave a message for Ana Maria Marques. He made something up, held his breath, watched as the clerk wrote it down—and stuffed it into slot 916.
He ran to the elevator. Halfway to the ninth floor it hit him that maybe Ana had been crying because she was angry he hadn’t told her they didn’t have to stay married anymore. She’d torn up the check but that didn’t prove anything. She was hot-tempered and impossibly independent.
And she’d left him.
What kind of woman did that to a man who loved her? Okay, so he’d never said the words, but she should have known. A woman loved a man, she knew what he felt for her. Women were supposed to sense those things, damnit.
The elevator doors opened. Linc stepped onto the ninth floor and started walking.
Ana had to love him—or what was he going to do with the rest of his life?
* * *
Ana peered at the thermostat in her room and edged it up another notch. It was set on high, she had not yet taken off her jacket and still, she was shaking. Maybe she was coming down with something? Or maybe it was what she’d seen on that little stick in the bathroom a few minutes ago?
No. She would not think about that now. Though why she hadn’t thought to check until after she’d lied about her period this morning…
Tea. Hot tea. That was what she needed. She phoned Room Service, placed the order, then sat down on the edge of the bed.
What now? She had to make plans. Go home to her father? Not an option, especially now. She would remain in New York. Find a job. A place to live. One step at a time, and not one of those steps would involve weeping over Lincoln.
He had needed her to care for Jenny and warm his bed. Then he hadn’t had the courage to tell her that was all finished, so he’d let his lawyer do it for him, with money.
Tears welled in her eyes. She was a fool to cry over such a man.
The knock on the door surprised her. Room Service. She’d almost forgotten. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, went to the door, released the security chain…
And gasped.
“Ana—”
She slammed the door in Lincoln’s face.
He knocked again. Pounded the door until it shook. Ana reset the chain and cracked the door an inch.
“Go away!”
“Open this door, Ana.”
“Are you deaf? I said—”
“This is an old hotel. That chain might as well be made of paper clips. Open the door or, so help me, I’ll kick it down.”
She stared at him. The grim look on his face said he would do exactly that. Her mouth narrowed; she shut the door, undid the chain and turned the knob. Lincoln stepped inside and began to shut the door.
She stopped him. “Leave it open.”
“You should know better than to open a hotel door without looking through the peephole.”
Ana folded her arms. “Thank you for your professional advice. I will remember it for next time.”
“Well, the odds are you won’t need it next time.”
Her eyebrows rose. “And why is that?”
“Because the next time you’re in a hotel room, you’ll be with me.”
“I do not work for you anymore, Mr. Aldridge. I quit my job.”
“You can’t quit your job.”
“I most assuredly can.”
“Actually, job is the wrong word.”
“It is the correct word to describe a nanny’s duties.”
“But not the duties of a wife.”
She looked so cold, sounded it, too. And that rigid posture, the voice saying “Mr. Aldridge” in tones that would have given a penguin the chilblains… He’d known his Ana was upset, but the truth was he didn’t know if it was because she didn’t want to see him or she was surprised to see him. Now,
as color flowed into her cheeks, he felt the first stirrings of hope.
“I am not your wife.At least, I will not be for very long. I phoned your attorney’s office and left him a message. I told him to start divorce proceedings as per our contract.”
“My attorney is an ass.”
“Because he did what you were too much the coward to do?”
“Because,” Linc said, starting slowly toward her, “he knows all about the law and not a damned thing about the human heart.”
“For that you would need a physician.” Ana took a half-step back. “Stay where you are, please, Mr. Aldridge, or—”
“Or what, Mrs. Aldridge? Are you going to call Security and ask them to throw your husband out of your room?”
“You are not my husband. You are—you are—”
“I love you, Ana.”
Ana’s heart seemed to bump against her ribs. “You are an excellent liar.”
“I adore you.”
“Is that the reason you told your lawyer to give me that check?”
“I wrote that the day we signed that damned contract. I wasn’t going to let you put your life on hold without giving you something for it. How in hell was I to know Charles would take it into his head to deliver it? Ana. Listen to me. I love you!”
She wanted to believe him. Oh, she wanted to! But there was just so much pain her heart could take before it shattered.
“Why are you doing this?” she said, hating the way her voice broke. “Lincoln, I’m not going to play these games anymore. What are you doing?” she said, which was a foolish question, because what he was doing was reaching for her and gathering her to him. “I just told you—”
“No games,” he said softly. “Not anymore. Come back to me, Ana.”
Tears rose in her eyes. “None of this is necessary. I know that Jenny is legally yours now.”
“Jenny is ours, sweetheart. If you’re willing, I’d like us to start adoption proceedings.”
“Lincoln.” Ana began to weep. “Do you really love me?”
Linc drew her into his arms and kissed her. His kiss said everything she’d ever longed to hear, and as she wound her arms around his neck she realized he had been kissing her that same way since the first time they’d made love.
“Last night,” she whispered against his mouth, “you were so removed…”
“I’d been trying to find a way to tell you about Jenny, but I was afraid you’d say you were happy for me and now it was time you went on to live your own life.”
“For shame, Lincoln,” Ana said, laughing and crying at the same time. “Didn’t you know how much I loved you?”
“I let myself hope, but when you said you’d gotten your period…” He leaned his forehead against hers. “It wasn’t the news I’d hoped for, Ana. You’re probably going to hate me for this but, see, I figured you couldn’t possibly leave me if you were carrying my child.”
“Our child,” she said, smiling.
“That’s what I meant. Our child. And—”
“I lied to you, Lincoln. I didn’t get my period during the night.”
He lifted his head and looked into her eyes. “No?”
“I didn’t get it today, either.” She moistened her lips. “A little while ago I took one of those home tests.”
Could a man really survive without breathing? “Ana. Are you? Are we—?”
She nodded. “Jenny’s going to have a little brother or sister for company.”
He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just as her heart started to plummet, Lincoln lifted her off her feet and whirled her in a circle.
“Sweetheart. Ana. I love you so much…”
He kissed her. She kissed him back. And gradually they heard the sound of applause.
The Room Service waiter stood, smiling, in the open doorway. Half a dozen people were clustered behind him. They, too, were smiling. And clapping. Someone even whistled.
Ana laughed and buried her face against her husband’s throat. Linc grinned at the little crowd.
“I,” he said proudly, “am the world’s luckiest man.”
He gave his wife another long, tender kiss. When he finally lifted his mouth from hers, Ana sighed and looked deep into his eyes.
“Lincoln, my love,” she said softly, “let’s go home.”
* * * * *
If you loved this Sandra Marton title, you will love the newest 8 book series from
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The Billionaire’s Legacy
A search for truth and the promise of passion!
For nearly sixty years, Italian billionaire, Giovanni Di Sione has a kept a shocking secret. Now, nearing the end of his days, he wants his grandchildren to know their true heritage.
He sends them each on a journey to find his “Lost Mistresses,” a collection of love tokens—the only remaining evidence of his lost identity, his lost history…his lost love.
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The Billionaire’s Legacy
Di Sione’s Innocent Conquest by Carol Marinelli
The Di Sione Secret Baby by Maya Blake
To Blackmail a Di Sione by Rachel Thomas
The Return of the Di Sione Wife by Caitlin Crews
Di Sione’s Virgin Mistress by Sharon Kendrick
A Di Sione for the Greek’s Pleasure by Kate Hewitt
A Deal for the Di Sione Ring by Jennifer Hayward
The Last Di Sione Claims His Prize by Maisey Yates
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ISBN: 9781460398586
The Playboy’s Unexpected Bride,
originally published as Hot Summer Bride
Copyright © 2008 by Sandra Marton
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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The Playboy’s Unexpected Bride Page 11
