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“You didn’t upset Natalie. Someone else did.”
“Your visitor?”
He squeezed his sister’s hand. “Get back to your party. I’ll explain later.”
He found Natalie standing by the ornate stone balustrade of the ballroom balcony, a harbor breeze lifting sable ribbons off her slender shoulders. Her hands were poised at her breast, her chin raised high as she stared off over the water as though seeing something he couldn’t.
In that timeless gown, standing composed in the moonlight, she looked like a goddess. A real-life Venus. Ravishing. Ephemeral. Tonight she was his.
Hands slipping into his pockets, Alex ambled forward. “Wishing on a star?”
She blinked out of her trance and met his gaze, an apologetic smile touching her lips.
“I’m sorry.” Dropping her hands, she set them on the railing. “Guess this night’s proving to be bigger than I’d expected.”
Joining her, he filtered a gaze over her lithe feminine form. Her scent reminded him of morning, like fresh dew on petals moments after dawn. Sunrise was the best time of day, particularly when he woke with Natalie nestled against his chest, her soft, even breathing blending with his.
He brushed a fragrant wave of her hair from her cheek. “I told you Teresa would like you.”
“Even after being so rude?”
“She’ll understand.”
Whether Natalie would come to terms with Joe Davidson’s news was another matter. He’d been jolted, too, but he wasn’t convinced he was the father of that baby. He needed proof positive and if the child turned out to be his…
Easing his other hand from its pocket, he perused the mysterious moonlit waters.
If the baby was his, of course he’d do what was right. First he’d need to figure out what “right” was. Financial and emotional support, no dispute. But marriage? Were gold bands going too far? Or was tying the knot, giving the child two full-time parents, the least he could do?
Following a talk with his father many years ago, Alex had made a vow: he would marry only after serious evaluation and an intelligent choice had been made. His father emphasised that choosing the right woman to be the mother of your children—choosing the right woman with whom to share your life and your bed—wasn’t a decision to be made lightly. Although his father admitted he’d been lucky, the kind of love about which the great poets lamented was rare and therefore not a true consideration; it was better not to love at all than to fall in love with the wrong type. Nonnegotiable, however, was the mutual respect that came from two people sharing the same values, principles and goals.
Alex had taken that conversation to heart. As a consequence, he looked for a certain criteria in his companions. For instance, he didn’t date single mothers—too many potential problems with exes for one. And yet tonight Joe Davidson had stated that he might have helped to create one. Talk about irony.
Releasing a breath, he rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ll get you a drink.” He could do with a stiff one himself.
She caught his sleeve. “This air’s calming enough.”
“We can leave if you’d rather.”
She pretended to scowl. “This is your only sister’s engagement party. We’re not going anywhere.”
Leaning back against the balustrade, he folded his arms, crossed one ankle over the other. “Guess I’ll be meeting your clan next.” Not that he’d envisaged sipping tea with her folks when they’d begun dating. He was curious, is all. He knew so little about her, which went against his usual rule where women he spent more than a little time with were concerned. Of course, paying her parents a visit would have to wait until after this pregnancy issue was sorted. He’d check with his obstetrician friend, Mateo, tomorrow. This confusion should be cleared up in a week, two at most.
When she kept her eyes on the flickering blankets of cityscape lights, as though she hadn’t heard his question, he angled his head. She’d closed up when Teresa had enquired about family, because of Bridget’s surprise pregnancy, no doubt. Still…“Do you realise you’ve never mentioned where you’re from?”
“Haven’t I?”
With a knuckle, he turned her chin and her wide eyes met his. “No, Natalie,” he said pointedly over a grin. “You haven’t.”
Her return grin included an overly patient look that said he was making a big deal of nothing. “I come from a very small, very ordinary town.”
“Called?”
“Called Constance Plains.”
“Doesn’t sound as if you miss it.”
“I don’t.”
“So you don’t plan on leaving Sydney anytime soon?”
“Not unless there’s a reason to leave.”
He pushed off the balustrade. “I can think of at least one good reason to stay.” The full moon’s light disappeared behind a cloud at the same time he gathered her close.
There hadn’t been a time when she’d denied his affection and tonight her body held no less warmth. Her mesmerising eyes searched his, the message in their jewelled depths unreadable but for one request. She wanted his kiss. Happy to oblige, he lowered his head.
When he covered her sweet mouth with his, the breath seemed to leave her body. Boneless, completely compliant, she dissolved against him as her hands on his chest wove up to hold his working jaw.
Raw desire licked through his veins as his hand on her shoulder hooked her slightly in. When he deepened the kiss, the quiet moan in the back of her throat confirmed that tonight’s news couldn’t affect how she felt.
She wanted him more than ever.
It had been such a long week. He couldn’t wait to get her home, to love her again the way she deserved to be loved.
But first…
Softy, reluctantly, he broke the kiss. Enjoying the heavy thrum of his heartbeat, he murmured, “We should get back.”
He was more than happy to celebrate this night with his sister, but frankly, he couldn’t wait to get Natalie Wilder back home and in bed.
Three hours later, he and Natalie thanked their hosts and left the thinning party crowd.
Alone together as the hotel lift door closed, Natalie asked, “Why do you have a bodyguard?”
Alex hit the ground floor key knowing he’d explained before, when they’d first begun dating. “Paul was my father’s man.”
“Was your father afraid for his life?”
She was alluding to Davidson’s barb about his grandfather being a mobster. Or was the inference closer to real time?
“You mean, am I afraid for my life?”
“Powerful men tend to have powerful enemies.”
The lift doors parted and they moved out into the hotel foyer, which was relatively quiet but for a group of vocal Canadians checking in.
“I’m not concerned about Davidson, if that’s what you mean. Besides there’s other duties a bright man like Paul can perform.”
Outside, a silver Bentley pulled up with Paul at the helm and Natalie grinned. “You mean like chauffeur?”
Placing a guiding hand on her back, Alex ushered Natalie out into an opulent sandstone forecourt, which was fringed by rustling palm trees and the hum of late-night traffic. “Paul wouldn’t like anyone else driving the Bentley.”
“It’s his baby, then?”
He stopped, quizzed her eyes. The B word hadn’t been mentioned since Teresa’s gaffe earlier. Now he had the biggest feeling Natalie would drive herself crazy with worry over the weekend when nothing could be done.
He waved off the hotel’s uniformed doorman then held her dainty hand in his. “I thought we agreed. I’ll speak with my people, but until then…”
“You really don’t think the child is yours.”
His jaw shifted and they began to walk again. He’d assure her as best he could. “I don’t. But I’m not so arrogant as to rule it out completely.”
That night Bridget had said she was protected. He certainly had been, but he could think of only one form of contraception that was infallible, and it was too late to talk about abstinence now.
They moved farther out into the cool night air at the same time Paul opened the Bentley’s back passenger door. Alex thought nothing of the man dressed in a rumpled jacket and jeans approaching. But when the man stopped and reached for something from beneath his jacket, Alex’s protective instincts flew into action.
“Can we get a statement, Mr. Ramirez?” the man said, revealing his notepad at the exact moment Alex stepped in front of Natalie and Paul shot forward to seize the man’s shoulders. The man stumbled back, the camera case slung over his shoulder swinging as his voice rose. “Is it true you’re denying the paternity of a child conceived six months ago?”
Alex served the reporter a withering look as Paul tussled him away.
But the man only raised his notepad higher. “How does Bridget Davidson feel about you abandoning her for another woman?”
“Paul.” Alex hooked an arm. “Let’s roll.”
With a parting shove, Paul rounded the hood as Alex helped Natalie into the backseat.
But the jerk wasn’t giving up. Someone had dropped him a tasty lead. Now he fought for the story like a rat after cheese.
Near the back window, the man dipped his ginger head and peered inside the car. “Are you Natalie Wilder?”
Alex caught the notepad and flung it in the gutter. “No comment.”
Perhaps a broken jaw would convince this guy to quit.
Either suicidal or just plain dumb, the reporter slung off another question. “Is it true you plan to marry Ms. Wilder?”
His face hot with temper, he slid into the seat beside Natalie as Paul revved the engine. Before closing the door, Alex gave his unequivocal answer.
“Yes. It’s true.”
Chapter Three
Natalie’s mouth dropped open as her heart back flipped then bounced to her throat.
She’d heard wrong. She must have.
Alexander Lucio Ramirez planned to marry her?
Absurd!
She pressed herself into the far corner of the Bentley’s sumptuous backseat. “What in the world were you thinking?”
Alex yanked on his black bow tie. “Foremost I was thinking how much I despise the media.”
Her cheeks burned. “So you throw fuel on their fire?”
Inclining his Hollywood square jaw, he flicked open his collar at the same time he flicked her a glance. “My life is my business.”
“Except now you’ve brought me into it.”
“You were already in my life.”
“Not posing as your fiancée!”
Exhaling, he pinched the bridge of his aquiline nose and clamped shut his eyes. “This afternoon everything was as it should be. I’d all but wrapped up a deal, was looking forward to tonight. Tomorrow we were spending the day together.” His hand dropped heavily onto his lap. “Then Joe Davidson waltzes in and detonates a bomb.”
Natalie bristled. Surely he was forgetting something, or more precisely, someone. “I wonder how unsettled Bridget Davidson must’ve felt when the stick turned pink.”
He edged over a look. “I don’t need to be reminded of my responsibilities should I be the father of that child.”
She shivered at the deep, determined timbre of his voice, but she wouldn’t let his irritation at the situation—at that reporter—stop her from getting answers.
She tipped toward him. “Why did you tell that man we’re getting married?”
He pressed a button and the transparent privacy screen between driver and passengers slid into place. “Maybe I did it for the hell of it.”
“Then you need to retract it. In fact—” She swallowed against the clot of nerves jumping high in her chest and forced herself to say the words.
Seemed the time had come.
“I don’t think we should continue to see each other right now.”
Alex didn’t speak. Merely turned his head with great purpose, his eyes sparkling like black diamonds as they flashed in a passing sidewalk light.
She siphoned in a shaky breath.
Clearly this situation called for a break. Maybe temporary. More likely for good. She’d always known it would come to this. Hadn’t they both agreed this wasn’t forever? Unfortunately goodbyes had come sooner than planned.
She held her trembling hands firmly in her lap. “This is getting way too complicated.”
“So you’re hopping on the first lifeboat out?”
She recoiled. The sting was as sharp as a physical slap. God help her, she wanted to shake him for turning this around.
“You’re acting as though this is my fault.”
His chin went up. “I only know if you needed my support I’d give it to you.”
