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Part of her relished the idea of holding the proof of her love for Xavier in her arms. But her logical side argued that children and the Grand Prix circuit were not a winning combination. Only a few riders juggled parenthood and competition successfully, and they did so with the help of nannies and understanding spouses. Could she make it work without Xavier’s help?
She worked crazy long hours, often seven days a week, and the travel was grueling. What kind of mother could she be with that schedule? Her child would suffer without a second parent to fill the gaps. Single parenthood would be nothing like the merry band of gypsies she, her brother, mother and father had been before the crash.
Continuing the pregnancy would be incredibly complicated. Even if she booted Xavier’s gorgeous butt and his horses to the curb, how would she hide her condition from him if she stayed on the continent? She was almost two months pregnant and it wouldn’t be long before she’d start to show.
Would he try to talk her into an abortion or fight her for custody on principle? This was Xavier’s baby, and what Xavier owned Xavier kept. Would he feel as territorial about an unplanned love child?
It didn’t matter. Megan wouldn’t risk having her child raised by his wife—someone who might not want it, love and cherish it. Someone who might resent the hell out of the onerous duty thrust upon her.
Been there. Done that. After her family had been killed, her childhood hadn’t been the greeting card kind. Even though her uncle had taken her in, he’d made sure she always knew she was an unwelcome burden. An outsider. That woman’s child.
And what about her cottage—the house Xavier had bought for her? Even if he’d let her, she couldn’t stay there after he married someone else. Especially since her place had a clear view of the driveway to his estate. She’d see his wife coming and going. And that would destroy her.
She bent over double, hands on her knees. What are you going to do?
Panic tightened like a noose around her neck. She had to focus on the present rather than worry about what might happen months from now. Deal with today. Then the rest.
The birth control failure couldn’t have come at a worse time. She was on the verge of realizing her dream of making it to the top as a Grand Prix rider and trainer on the European circuit. Not only were her horses racking up credentials, but she’d been signing more and more exclusive clients each season. She rode over a dozen horses any given day. And she had a reputation for being the “go-to” girl when a rider sustained an injury and needed a temporary replacement.
But she couldn’t do any of that while she was expecting. Taking time off for a pregnancy would mean losing ranking and income from the horses other owners contracted her to ride and show. And then what?
Straightening slowly, she hugged her middle. Termination would be the least complicated route, she acknowledged with a heavy heart. But could she do it? She didn’t know. Her thoughts were a tangled mess of crushed dreams and a potential career crisis.
But whether or not she had the baby was her decision. She had the most to lose either way. As for Xavier … what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.
Until she made up her mind about her future she couldn’t risk him finding out about her condition. She had to get as far away from his influence as possible. But where could she go? Where could she hide?
Before she could flee to lick her wounds and reorganize her life she had to make arrangements for her horses and those she trained for other owners. Because no matter how this ended, she was a professional and she wanted to have a career to return to after … whatever happened.
She pulled out her phone, determined to get business out of the way so she could focus on the multitude of changes ahead. Hannah’s number popped up as the missed call. No surprise. Somehow her cousin always knew when Megan needed her, and Hannah would support her no matter which choice she made. Hannah would give her refuge while she tried to make sense of her future.
That took care of the where-to-go problem. It was time to go home to North Carolina—the state and country she’d fled a decade ago—and get as far away from Xavier Alexandre as possible.
Three weeks of silence weighed heavily on Megan’s nerves. She hadn’t heard from Xavier. He hadn’t called, emailed, texted or responded in any way to her email informing him that she wouldn’t be returning to France.
She’d expected … something. And yes, it shamed her to admit she’d hoped he’d miss her, come after her, apologize and propose. He was a fighter, not a quitter. His company’s rise to the top in the global perfume market proved his ambition and tenacity.
It was hard to accept that the most exciting time of her life, her love affair with the man she’d believed perfect, was over. Finished. And being dismissed so easily hurt in ways she never could have imagined. It was as if she’d never mattered to him and as the clichе said, she was out of sight and out of mind.
But life went on and this morning her cousin Hannah—not Xavier—had accompanied her to her first prenatal appointment—a bittersweet moment filled with both joy and pain.
She’d never planned to have children. But those plans had changed somewhere over the Atlantic when she’d remembered Hannah’s mother’s favorite saying. The end of something is always the beginning of something else.
The words hadn’t meant anything to Megan as a child, but they couldn’t be more apt now. This baby was the beginning of her new life. And if she couldn’t have Xavier, she could have a family of her own.
With her attention only half-focused on the rider in front of her, she thanked heaven for her cousin. Hannah had not only welcomed her and provided her with a home, but she’d helped find experienced riders to keep Megan’s horses in shape. And she had made a place for Megan at Sutherland Farm as a trainer and riding coach. It wasn’t nearly as satisfying or challenging as riding, but for now, it would pay the bills.
It was only when she wandered through the silent guest cottage—her new home—at night that Megan got caught up in the what-might-have-beens. But she and her baby would survive without Xavier Alexandre.
The sound of a rail clattering down jerked her attention back to the student cantering through the intermediate jump course. Megan signaled the rider—her last lesson of the day—to meet her at the gate. She was used to assessing her competition, analyzing their weaknesses and using those to trounce them in the ring. Finding a constructive way to share a rider’s faults and coach them into a better performance wasn’t a skill she’d mastered yet. But she was working on it.
“Do you know why that last rail came down, Terri?” she asked as she stroked the big chestnut’s glossy neck. The Hanoverian mare had heart and scope. That was half the battle. If only her rider were half as talented.
The girl grimaced. “I rushed it. I was already racing for the time line before I cleared the last vertical.”
“Exactly. And your distraction confused your horse. Otherwise, that was a good run. You could lean a little more forward as you approach, but you can work on that between now and your next lesson.”
“Got it. I’ll see you next week, Megan. Thanks.” Terri waved and trotted off on her mare.
Megan’s energy flagged. The combination of restless nights combined with her pregnancy was kicking her butt. The course needed resetting for tomorrow’s advanced students, but she just couldn’t summon any enthusiasm for the task. It would have to wait until morning. Right now she needed a moment to soak up the peace and quiet of the fading day.
She turned her back on the barn and the paperwork waiting on her desk, braced her arms across the top of the white board fence and parked her boot on the bottom rail as she savored the way the setting sun turned the sky sherbet colors as it disappeared behind the tall pines. The sweet aromas of honeysuckle and gardenias permeated the humid air. There was a stillness in the ring just before dusk, a tranquillity that centered the universe on the rider and her mount.
Megan missed riding like an amputee would miss a newly severed limb, and not being able to pit herself and her horse against time and obstacles left her empty and adrift. She’d been a rider since her father had bought her first pony for her fourth birthday. The show ring had been the one place she’d excelled, the only place she’d always fit in, and her last link to her father who’d been a great competitor. But she wouldn’t risk hurting her baby—not even for a short ride.
“This is your favorite time of day. Why aren’t you riding?”
Xavier.
She startled at the sound of his deep, slightly accented voice, and her boot slipped on the rail, nearly dumping her on her bottom. She quickly regained her balance and spun to face him. Joy, hope and apprehension swirled like a dust devil inside her. He’d come. Finally. The urge to throw herself in his arms bunched inside her like a compacted spring. But she couldn’t. Not until she knew his intentions.
The evening breeze tossed his dark hair. His observant green eyes pinned her in place. The shadow of stubble cloaking his jaw, combined with a white silk long-sleeve shirt and black jeans gave him the look of a modern-day pirate. A pirate who had stolen her heart and tossed it overboard like flotsam, she reminded herself.
“What are you doing here?”
“I have come to take you home.” His autocratic bearing and commanding tone were so familiar, so dear. She loved his confidence, his swagger. And those were the words she’d been waiting to hear. But …
“You’ve canceled your wedding?”
His brow creased. “No.”
Her balloon of hope deflated. “Are you going to?”
“I cannot.”
She’d thought her heart couldn’t break any more. Wrong. A fresh stab of pain gouged her. “Then we have nothing more to discuss, Xavier. You’re committed to another woman. You’ve wasted a trip. Climb back in your jet and have a nice flight home. I’ll arrange for someone to pack up the rest of my things and get them out of your cottage.”
“If you want your belongings come for them yourself.”
How like him to be stubborn. “I can’t. I have a job here now.”
“Teaching riding lessons,” he scoffed as if her occupation was no more prestigious than shoveling manure from stalls.
“I like mentoring others.” Or she would once she got the hang of it.
“You like teaching. But you love riding. Your possessions will be waiting for you when you return. I will not allow anyone else to enter your home.”
“Your home. Your name’s on the deed.”
“That can easily be changed.”
“What happens when you marry, Xavier? Do you think your wife will like having your ex-mistress nearby? Or were you expecting us to carry on as lovers after the ceremony?”
“Unlike my mother, I will honor my vows. You may keep the cottage. We are adults. Cecille need not know of our past.”
“Everyone knows about us. We were inseparable for months. Ship my stuff here or give it away. I don’t care. I’m not coming to get it.”
Good thing she’d brought the most important items with her when she’d packed in such a rush to get out before he’d returned from work that day. She wouldn’t need the fancy designer dresses he’d bought her since she wouldn’t be attending parties with him. Besides, pretty soon they wouldn’t fit. She was already noticing her tops fit more snugly.
She wanted to howl in pain and frustration. Couldn’t he see he was making a huge mistake? But unless he relented on his marriage plans she couldn’t risk returning to the house where she’d been so happy with him—the cottage where she’d finally allowed herself to trust in forever. The memories would undermine her resolve to do the right thing for herself and her baby. Besides, she couldn’t afford to have him guess her secret and possibly claim her child.
He moved closer. The fence blocked her retreat. As the distance between them decreased, a slight quiver overtook her body. He lifted a hand and cupped her face in the warmth of his palm. “How can you walk away from what we shared, Megan?”
As tempted as she was to lean into his touch, she resisted. It wasn’t easy. “I could ask you the same thing.”
“But I am not.”
She forced herself to twist out of reach. “Yes, you are. You’re engaged to marry someone else. You know I won’t settle for second place. I always fight for first—in the ring and out of it. You once told me my zeal was one of the things you liked best about me.”
“I admire many things about you, including your ambition and independence. But there is no need to throw a tantrum because you cannot have your way in this.”
She gaped at him as anger boiled inside her. “A tantrum! You think I’m throwing a tantrum?”
“What else could it be? I have showered you with gifts. I have even given you a home. I will make sure you lack for nothing even after we end our association. If you return to Grasse.”
“I’ve never cared about your money, your estate, your fancy cars or airplanes. You’re not offering what I want most, Xavier. You. Exclusively.”
“You have me exclusively now.”
“But only until your wedding. One of these days I’m going to want a husband … and children. I want someone to grow old with. A friend and a lover. You want that with someone else. Do us both a favor and move on.”
Her stiff muscles protested as she turned and ordered them to carry her away from the best—and the worst—thing that had ever happened to her.
She didn’t need to hear gravel crunching under his heels to know Xavier followed. Her body sensed his like a divining rod does water. His purposeful stride quickly brought him up alongside her, and though her eyes hungered for another look at him, she denied herself the pleasure and the pain.
“I have nothing more to say. Goodbye.”
“If we are going to quote past conversations, then you will recall that my determination is one of the traits you claimed we shared and you admired. Do not expect me to give up so easily when what we have is so good. I fight for what I want, and I want you, mon amante.”
“What we had. Past tense.” Apprehension tightened in her middle. She should have listened to her intuition and refused to ride his horses when he’d first approached her. But she hadn’t. She’d been swept away by a man who bought treats for her horses instead of gifts for her, and she’d ignored the warning prickles and signed the contract promising to become his trainer and rider.
After the first competition he’d asked her out while she was still high on the euphoria of winning. She’d somehow found the strength to refuse but then he’d pursued her, unrelentingly bulldozing right over her vow to never become involved with a client.
She couldn’t let him overpower her again. She had to get rid of him. But how?
She glared up at him. “Stop following me. I won’t play cat and mouse with you. And I won’t entertain you until your bride-to-be is willing to warm your sheets. Find another lover, Xavier. I intend to.”
A lie. But he didn’t need to know that.
The nostrils of his aristocratic nose flared and jealousy ignited in his eyes like twin torches. She only had a moment to enjoy her successful score before he hooked a hand behind her nape, holding her captive as his mouth claimed hers.
Shock stalled her heart before passion spurred it into a galloping beat. It shamed her to admit that even his angry kiss turned her on. But then their sexual compatibility had never been in question.
His lips crushed hers, then softened. He plied her tender flesh with the skill that had slayed her resistance from their first kiss. His tongue traced the seam of her lips. Teasing her. Tempting her. Coaxing a response from her that she didn’t want to give.
Oh, yes, she wanted him. Badly. It disgusted her that she could be so easily manipulated. But even her disgust didn’t kill the hunger.
One last kiss. And then you say goodbye. And mean it.
She opened her mouth and let him in. His familiar taste overwhelmed her, and she couldn’t resist moving closer for a final delicious press of his body against hers. His arms surrounded her, banding her against his muscled length, and his heat seeped into her, warming her for the first time since she’d left him.
She clutched his waist, caressed his strong back. Being with him felt so good, so right. Saying goodbye shouldn’t be this hard.
Desire shuddered through her, filling her with a need that only Xavier could satisfy and reminding her how many weeks it had been since she’d shared his body. Love blossomed inside her. How could he not feel it, not want more?
His fingers tightened in her hair. His other hand cupped her bottom, pulling her against the hot, thick column of his erection. He slowly lifted his head. His gaze burned into hers and his breath fanned her skin.
“You are delicious, like the finest wine, the most decadent cr?me br?lеe. I have missed having you in my bed and in my arms, mon amante. Come home with me, Megan.”
The huskiness of his voice proved he wanted her. Maybe if she reminded him just how good they were together he’d reconsider his disastrous choice and ditch the fiancеe.
Risky.
But their passion was the strongest weapon she possessed, and if she could change his mind she’d have everything she never knew she wanted before Xavier—a home of her own, a man who loved her and a family. And her new cottage was conveniently only a few hundred yards away.
“You come home with me.” She laced her fingers through his and led him down the driveway. The quarter-mile walk gave the voice in her head plenty of time to insist that this was a foolhardy strategy. But she ignored it.
If she wanted Xavier back, then she had to fight fire with fire.
Two
Xavier knew he’d won from the moment Megan’s lips turned soft and pliable beneath his. He allowed her to take his hand and lead him to her lair. He could afford to be magnanimous in victory.
Seeing the interior of the small stone cottage only confirmed his belief that she had left him to make a point. As charming as her temporary accommodations might be, she had not bothered to make them hers the way she had the house he had provided for her.
If she had intended to stay in the States she would have stamped some trace of her personality in the living area or the bedroom, but the only hint of Megan’s occupancy lingered in the air. The bedroom smelled of her and the rose-scented lotion she—or he—smoothed over her skin each night in the ritual he enjoyed watching or sharing. A scent made by one of his low-budget competitors, he recalled with no small amount of distaste.
As good as she smelled, she could smell better if she allowed Parfums Alexandre to blend a personalized fragrance for her. But she had refused his offer.
He surveyed the steep-ceilinged bedroom, taking in the queen-size cherry bed and the traditional, elegant burgundy-and-gold decor. A ceiling fan hanging from one of the exposed crossbeams lazily stirred the air.
The room contained none of the feminine, lacy frills he knew Megan preferred in her linens and in her lingerie. To the world, she was an aggressive competitor and a dedicated horsewoman with a savvy mind for business and an enviable work ethic. He liked knowing that only he saw the soft femininity she concealed beneath her utilitarian riding clothes and no-nonsense attitude.
His heart pounded faster in anticipation of removing her shirt and jeans and uncovering the delicate French undergarments she always wore. He enjoyed buying her sexy lingerie almost as much as he relished removing it and sampling her supple skin.
She stopped beside the bed and tipped her head back to look at him. Her blue eyes were heavy-lidded with desire, her pupils dilated. Her cheeks were flushed and her lips parted. Her hand trembled in his, revealing her eagerness for his caress—an eagerness he shared.
It had been a long, frustrating three weeks waiting for her tantrum to end. It angered him that she had wasted some of the dwindling time they had left. Now that she had come to her senses, they could get on with the pleasure. But he would make her pay for making him come to her. Soon he would have her begging for what she had left behind and their affair would resume. On his terms.
