скачать книгу бесплатно
No. He’d have remembered those lips.
“Look, Miss—”
“Maddy.”
He spared a tight smile. “Maddy. Neither of us is in any mood for games. Whatever you have to say, I’d appreciate it if you would spit it out.”
She didn’t flinch or coil away from his candor. Rather her expression took on a steely air.
“Dahlia left the baby with me today,” she said. “He’s not my son. This baby is your nephew.”
Two beats of roaring silence passed before her words hit his chest, winding him as surely as if he’d been rammed by a twenty-foot log. He blinked rapidly, tried to find his breath. He must’ve heard wrong.
“That’s … not possible.”
A tear rolled down her cheek, catching and beading on the bunny blanket’s blue hood while her periwinkle eyes gleamed with quiet strength.
“Your sister’s last wish was for me to introduce you to one another. She wanted you to take him, Jack. Take him home with you to Leadeebrook.”
Two
Fifteen minutes later, sitting across the table from Jack Prescott, Maddy brought the china cup to her lips, certain that she’d never seen anyone look more drawn.
Or more handsome.
With the shadow on his strong square jaw—as well as his demeanor—growing darker by the minute, his teaspoon click-clacked as he stirred sugar into his cup.
Over the intercom, someone called for Dr. Grant to go to ward 10. An elderly woman at a nearby table smiled at the baby before tasting her scone. By the cashier, a nurse dropped a full plate. The clattering echo bounced off the walls yet Jack Prescott seemed oblivious to it all. His hooded yet intense gaze was focused only inward.
From beneath her lashes, Maddy analyzed the planes of his rugged, Hollywood face—the cleft chin, the straight proud nose. How he managed to look both passionate and detached at the same time she couldn’t guess. She sensed a fierce, almost frightening energy broiling beneath the mask. He was the kind of man who could single-handedly beat a bushfire in forty knot gusts and refuse to let anything he cared for suffer or die.
The million dollar question was: What did Jack Prescott care about? He’d barely looked at the baby, the orphaned darling he’d only just met. The man sitting at this table seemed to be made of stone, a perfect enigma. She might never know why Dahlia had excluded her brother from her life. If it weren’t for little Beau, Maddy wouldn’t want to know.
Jack settled his cup in its saucer, and then slid a bland expression toward the baby, who was settled again, asleep on his side in the carriage with a tiny fist bunched up near his button nose. Jack had been the one to suggest coffee, but after so long of a silence, Maddy couldn’t stand his chilly calm a moment more. She had a task to complete—a promise to keep—and a finite amount of time in which to do it.
“Dahlia was a great mother,” she told him. “She’d finished her degree in business marketing before the baby was born. She was taking a year off before finding and settling down to a good job.” Maddy’s gaze dropped to her cup as a withering feeling fell through her center. Now was the time to say it. Now was the time to confess.
“Dahlia had barely been out of the apartment since bringing him home,” she went on. “I’d talked her into going to the hairdressers, having her nails done—”
Maddy’s stomach muscles gripped and she grimaced under the weight of her guilt.
If she hadn’t suggested it, hadn’t made the appointment and practically pushed her friend out the door, Dahlia would still be alive. This baby would still have his mother and have no need to rely on this brusque man who seemed set on ignoring him.
“He’s three months old today,” she added, in case he was interested, but Jack only concentrated on stirring more sugar into his drink.
Maddy blinked several times then pushed her cup away and glanced, sick at heart, around the noisy room. This exchange was never going to be easy, but could it have gone any worse? What was she supposed to do now? The man was as sensitive as a slab of cold steel.
“Where’s the father?”
Maddy jumped at his graveled question. But the query was an obvious one, even if he wouldn’t like the answer.
She lowered her voice. “Dahlia was the victim of a rape.” His face darkened before he swore and shoveled a hand though hair black as ink. “And before you ask,” she continued, “she didn’t report it.”
Flecks of gold ignited in the depths of his hostile green eyes. “Why the hell not?”
“Does it matter now?”
Like so many in her situation, Dahlia hadn’t wanted the misery of a trial. She hadn’t known her assailant and preferred to keep it that way. She’d needed to heal as best she could and bury the horror as well as the hurt. Then Dahlia had discovered she was pregnant.
Choking on raw emotion, Maddy focused and straightened her spine. “What matters is she had a beautiful baby.” This bright little boy she’d loved very much.
Jack studied the baby, the single line between his dark brows deepening as a pulse ticked at one side of thick, tanned neck. His next question was a grudging growl.
“What’s his name?”
“Beauford James.”
Jack Prescott’s nostrils flared and his gaze slid away.
Maddy smothered a humorless laugh. Was this man a machine? Certainly these were special circumstances—he’d lost his only sibling today. But did he ever deign to show the world any emotion other than irritation?
Hot tears pricked behind Maddy’s eyes as her hand tightened around her cup and rising emotion blocked off her air. She couldn’t hold her tongue. No decent person would. Nothing had mattered more in her life than the outcome of this meeting—fulfilling the promise that she’d made—and if she had to brush an over-indulged ego the wrong way to get results, then by God, that’s precisely what she’d do.
“He’s your flesh and blood,” she challenged. “Don’t you want to pick him up and hold him?”
Promise him everything will be all right? That he’ll be safe?
A dreadful thought struck and the fine hairs on her arms stood up at the same time as she slumped back. “Or would you rather he go straight to foster care?”
Not that she would let that happen. She’d take Beau herself first. Her own mother had died when Maddy was five. Growing up she’d longed for someone to braid her hair in the morning, burrow down beneath the covers with and read to her at night.
Maddy’s father was a good man but obsessed with his business—sometimes it seemed as if Tyler Advertising was more Drew Tyler’s child than his only daughter. He ran his corporate castle with an iron fist and didn’t see a place on its staff for a “delicate girl” like Maddy. She disagreed. After serious and extended debate, she’d won and had gone to work at the firm.
These past weeks her father had become understandably edgy over his daughter closing her first big solo deal. Beneath the brave face, Maddy was nervous, too. But, come hell or high water, she’d have the signatures she needed and by the date promised. One month from today.
No one would guess how painfully shy she’d been as a girl, how hard she’d worked on her flaws in order to reflect her father’s celebrated style of business savvy and determination. Now, not a day went by that Drew didn’t in some way acknowledge his daughter’s efforts. Still, there were times she wished she’d known a mother’s love.
Her gaze fell to the baby.
How would this little one fare?
Jack’s long, tanned fingers reached for the sugar bowl. “I don’t recall saying I wouldn’t take him,” he drawled.
“You hardly seem gripped by the idea.” Maddy slid back and one inky black brow arched.
“You’d do better not to be so hostile,” he said.
“You’d do better not to be such a cold fish.”
While her heart pumped madly, his expression didn’t change. Those lidded sexy-as-sin eyes merely peered into hers until a not unpleasant shiver rippled over her skin, heating her from crown to curling-toe.
Blinking rapidly, she shifted back into the hard plastic seat.
Not only was this man dripping with bad-boy sex appeal, in that last point he’d been right. He might be as demonstrative as a stunned salmon, but now was the time for calm, not commotion. No matter how difficult, for the baby’s sake, she must keep her emotions in check.
All of them.
Maddy loosened the grip on her cup and found the calm place inside that served her well in trying situations.
“This day has been a shock for us both,” she admitted, “but, believe me, I only have one objective in mind, and that’s to make certain Beau is cared for the way Dahlia would’ve wanted.” She leaned in again, praying her heart would be there for him to see in her eyes. “Jack … he needs you.”
A muscle in his cheek flexed twice. “So it would seem.”
When he downed the rest of his coffee that must be three parts sugar and stone cold by now, Maddy’s hackles went up.
All her life she’d mingled with powerful men, business associates from her father’s advertising firm, influential patriarchs of the boys she’d dated in university. She’d seen an investment banker multimillionaire for a while. But never had she met anyone who stirred such strong emotions within her.
Both negative and shamelessly positive.
The hot pulse that kicked off low and deep inside whenever she looked at Jack Prescott was real. His presence was so commanding, despite the day, she couldn’t help but be intrigued. The breadth of his shoulders, the strength in his neck … his man-of-the-land build was magnificent. His gestures, his speech, everything about him whispered confidence. Intelligence. Superiority.
Detachment.
The angel asleep in that carriage hadn’t another living relative left in the world. Yet this specimen of masculine perfection, this emotional ice man, couldn’t bring himself to even ask to hold him. She wouldn’t have been able to leave Beau with his uncle and simply walk away, even if she had a choice.
Her stomach churning, Maddy nudged the blanket higher on the baby’s shoulder and kept her eyes on the soft rise and fall of his little chest. There was never going to be a right time. Might as well bite the bullet and get the final bombshell out in the open.
“There’s something else I need to say,” she murmured. “About a promise I made.”
Jack consulted his Omega platinum wristwatch. “I’m listening.”
“I promised that I wouldn’t hand Beau over until you were ready.”
While her heart jack hammered against her ribs, the man across from her slowly frowned and folded his arms. Eventually he tugged his ear.
“I admit it’ll take time to adjust to the idea of having.” His words ran dry, but then he cleared his throat and put more grunt into his voice. “You only need to know that I don’t renege on my responsibilities. My nephew won’t want for a thing.”
It wasn’t enough. If he’d greeted the baby with open arms, she’d still need to keep her word. She’d promised on her mother’s grave to make certain Beau was settled.
Turning from the baby, Maddy clasped her hands in her lap and met Jack’s superior gaze square on.
“I promised Dahlia that I’d stay with Beau until you were comfortable with each other. I imagine you have plenty of room,” she hastened to add, “and I’m happy to pay for any expenses incurred.”
The haunting cool in his eyes turned to flickering questions. He cocked his head and a lock of black hair fell over his suntanned brow while the corners of his mouth lifted in a parody of a smile.
“I need to have my ears checked. Am I getting this straight? You’re inviting yourself to stay with me?”
“I’m not inviting myself anywhere. I’m passing on your sister’s wishes. I’m telling you I made a promise.”
“Well, it won’t work.” He shook his head, almost amused. “Not in a million years.”
Maddy drew back her shoulders. He might be big. He might be intimidating. But if he thought he was inflexible, these days stubborn was her middle name.
She’d try a different tack.
“This baby knows me. I know him. His routine, his cries.” Hopefully what to do when he wakes up, wanting his mummy. “It’s in your best interest to let me help you both adjust.”
“I’ll have help.”
He’d said it without blinking and her heart missed several beats.
Dahlia said this morning that she’d followed what she could of her brother’s life, really only that he still lived at Leadeebrook and hadn’t remarried since the death of his wife. Of course he would need to hire a nanny. But what kind of person would be looking after Beau? Would she be severe and by-the-book or would she use her heart as well as her skills? Would she encourage him with gentle words of praise, or rap his knuckles if he forgot to say please?
“Miss Tyler …” A glimmer of warmth shone in his eyes when he amended, “Maddy. Are you sure this isn’t more about your inability to let go? “
A dark emotion she couldn’t name spiked and she kicked her chin up. “Rest assured, if I could be certain he’d be happy, if I could walk away with a clear conscience, nothing would please me more than to give you both my blessing.”
That glimmer froze over. “Only I don’t need your blessing, do I?”
Given that he was this baby’s sole surviving relative, she conceded, “I suppose you don’t. But then you don’t appear to need anything—” she dammed her words then let them spill out anyway “—particularly this hassle.” Lashing her arms over her chest, she challenged his hard gaze. “Am I right?”
When he didn’t answer—merely assessed her with those striking gold-flecked eyes—her core contracted around a hot glowing knot. Before the heat flared any higher, she doused the flame and pushed to her feet.
Walking out wouldn’t help matters, but she’d had all she could take for one day. The term animal magnetism was invented for this man: Jack Prescott was uniquely, powerfully attractive, but no way was he human. And before she left, damned if she wouldn’t tell him just that.
“I respected Dahlia,” she got out over the painful lump in her throat. “I loved her like a sister, but I can’t imagine what she was thinking choosing you to care for this precious child.”
With unshed tears burning her eyes, Maddy readied the carriage and headed for the exit. Jack called her name, but he could go to hell. He was no more interested in this baby’s welfare than she cared what team won the national dart competition. If he was so uninspired, he could fly back to the scorched red plains of the Australian outback and leave Beau here in civilization with her. No child should need to grow up in a wasteland anyway.
One moment the cafeteria doorway was an arm’s length away, the next Jack’s impressive frame was blocking her escape. His legs braced shoulder-width apart, he deliberately set his fists low on his hips.
Maddy huffed over a smirk.
Well, whaddaya know. I got a reaction.
His head slanted. “Where are you going?”
“What do you care?”
She angled the carriage to swerve around him, but he shifted to block her path again. “I care more than you’ll ever know.”
But she was done with words. She moved again. He moved, too. Narrowing her eyes, she let out a jaded sigh. “I’ve tried being reasonable. I tried understanding. I’ve even tried appealing to your better nature. Now I give in. You beat me, Jack Prescott.” She raised her hands. “You win.”
“I didn’t realize we were in competition.”
Oh, please. “Only from the moment you laid eyes on me.” He’d wanted her gone? He could clap himself on the back. Mission accomplished. If Dahlia had heard this exchange, she wouldn’t blame her friend for walking out.
“So, you’ve made up your mind?” he asked and she smiled sweetly.
