Hired by the Brooding Billionaire (11 page)

‘How exciting,’ said Shelley, her eyes gleaming. ‘I can’t wait to see my sister’s face when I drive up in it.’ She turned to his mother. ‘Thank you again, Mrs... I mean, Judith, this is going to be such a treat,’ she said.

‘It’s my absolute pleasure,’ said his mother with speculative eyes as she looked from Shelley to Declan and back again. ‘And remember, I’ll be coming over during the week for a guided tour of the garden. With my son’s approval, of course.’

Shelley flung her shawl around her shoulders as he led her through the connecting door to the garage. He was tempted almost beyond endurance to slide it off her. Her back view was sensational and he would have been more than happy to admire it for longer.

He stood back and let Shelley enjoy her first sight of the sleek silver sports car that was to be hers for the evening. She was unable to contain her excitement and made throaty little murmurs of pleasure as she walked around the car admiring it from every angle. She actually stroked the bonnet.
He couldn’t be jealous of a car.

‘I can tell you like it,’ he said.

‘Oh, yes,’ she said, her eyes shining, her cheeks flushed.

‘The black device opens the garage door,’ he said as he handed her the key ring.

She stood close by, her high heels bringing her closer to his eye level. Her sweet scent filled his senses. ‘Declan, this is really good of you,’ she said. ‘I hope you didn’t feel pressured into letting me drive the car.’

‘I don’t get pressured into doing anything I don’t want to,’ he said hoarsely.

Their eyes met for a long time. ‘I wish...’ she said wistfully, her voice trailing away.

‘You wish what?’

‘I wish you could come to the party with me,’ she said. ‘Of course, you could drive your car if...if you were able to come with me.’

Declan had a sudden, fierce desire to say yes. He sure as hell didn’t want her to go to her sister’s party alone where she would be a magnet for any red-blooded male in the room—he wondered if she had any idea how outrageously sexy she looked. He had the urge to take off his jacket, fling it over her shoulders and tell her she had to keep it on all evening.
He wanted her for his eyes only.

‘If I could come—and I can’t—you would be driving, not me,’ he said.

She pulled one of her endearing faces. ‘But, of course, you have your mother with you. Who seems very nice, by the way.’

Declan sucked in a quick breath.
Nice
wasn’t the word he would ever use to describe his barracuda barrister mother.

‘She’s okay,’ he acknowledged. ‘She insists on bringing her laptop over every few weeks for me to help her with it when I know very well she doesn’t need help.’

‘No doubt she wants to see if you’re okay on your own,’ she said. ‘My mother checks in with me at least once every few days.’

‘Perhaps,’ he said. He didn’t want to waste time talking about his mother. Not when Shelley’s shawl was slipping off her shoulders again. This time he reached over and took it right off, sliding his hands down her bare arms. She trembled—from the cold in the garage or his touch?

‘One more thing,’ he said.

‘About the car?’ she asked, eyes wide.

‘About this,’ he said. He kissed her, hard and hungry and demanding—making sure she went to that party branded by his kisses. With a throaty little murmur of surprise and pleasure, she opened to him and met his tongue with hers, tasting, exploring, pressing her body to his—until want for her ignited through him in a flare of need. He broke away from her mouth, pressing hot kisses down her throat, tasting her, breathing in her sweet, arousing scent, sliding his hands to cup the enticing side swell of her breasts.

She moaned and wrenched herself away from him. ‘Declan. No. Stop. If...if it was anything other than Lynne’s party I wouldn’t go, I’d stay here and we—’

‘Don’t say it,’ he groaned. ‘Go. Just go.’

She stared at him for a long moment, her breasts rising and falling as she struggled to control her breath. ‘I wish... No. I have to go.’ She planted a quick kiss on his mouth and went to step back but he snaked out his arm to tug her back and kiss her again. Only then did he wrest back control of his willpower and release her.

‘Whatever time you get home, let me know,’ he said, fighting to regain his breath in great, tearing gasps.

‘Even if it’s three in the morning?’ Her lipstick was smeared from his kisses, the pupils of her eyes so dilated he could scarcely see the colour, a pink beard rash around her chin. Good. Those other guys at the party would know she’d been thoroughly kissed and be warned off his woman.

His woman.
When had he allowed himself to think of her as that?

‘I’ll be awake and waiting for you,’ he said.

She slid behind the wheel of his car, as if she drove a high-performance sports vehicle every day, her dress sliding tantalisingly high up on her thighs. She laughed in exhilaration as the car started with a low, throaty roar.

‘I am so going to enjoy this,’ she called out to him.

He watched as she drove his favourite car, which no one else but he had ever driven, out of the garage and into the night, then he slammed his fist on the wall of the garage. He wanted to be with her. But here he was, surrounded by expensive cars in the garage of his multimillion-dollar mansion but cold and alone.

Only then came the full realisation of the prison he had created for himself.

* * *

Declan knew the second he got back in the house, his mother would grill him. She did not disappoint.

‘Who is Shelley Fairhill and where did you find her?’ she demanded, getting up from the sofa in the formal living room that was only used on her visits.

Declan shrugged. ‘She found me,’ he said. ‘She knocked on the door and asked could she help me with the garden.’

‘And you didn’t glower and send her on the way?’

‘Yes, I did,’ he said, tight-lipped. ‘But she persevered.’ He added
glowering
to the list of words people used to describe him.
Forbidding
was still his favourite.

‘I would have liked to have been a fly on the wall for that encounter. Did she—?’

‘Long story.’

‘And one I’m unlikely to hear the details of,’ said his shrewd mother. ‘She’s beautiful, Declan. And obviously very talented at what she does.’

He nodded. What he felt about Shelley was his own business—he did not want to discuss it with anyone, certainly not his mother.

‘Have you even
noticed
how beautiful Shelley is?’ She put up her hand. ‘Don’t answer that. I saw the way you were looking at her—and the way she was looking at you.’

‘What do you mean, the way she was looking at me?’

His mother laughed. ‘I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that. I haven’t seen you smile so much for...for a long time.’

‘You’re imagining things,’ he said stiffly.

‘No, I’m not,’ she said. ‘I didn’t get to be where I am without being able to read people. By the way, why was her car parked in your driveway?’

Reluctantly he replied. ‘Because she’s living in the apartment.’

‘Oh,’ said his mother with raised eyebrows.

‘Nothing like that,’ he said too hastily. ‘She just needed somewhere to stay.’

His mother sighed. ‘I believe you. But for your sake I wish it were otherwise. She’s lovely, Declan—warm, open and she has kind eyes. I had a really good feeling about her.’

Declan gritted his teeth. ‘She’s all that and more,’ he said. ‘But what is it to you?’

His mother stilled. ‘Despite what you think, I’m desperately concerned about you. Lisa was the best thing that ever happened to you, to the family. But she’s gone, Declan. You’re young. You can’t let yourself just shrivel up and die inside because we lost Lisa. She would never have wanted you to lock yourself away like this.’

Declan gritted his teeth so hard his jaw ached. ‘You know I—’

‘You blame yourself. But it wasn’t your fault. Lisa died of a sudden embolism. Nothing could have predicted it or prevented it. And baby Alice? That precious little girl was just born too soon. You mustn’t let the tragedy of their loss cut you off from happiness in your future.’

Declan shifted from foot to foot. ‘It’s not like that.’ He had convinced Lisa to get pregnant when she’d wanted to wait and she’d died in childbirth.
His fault.

‘Isn’t it?’ His mother persevered, much as she must do in court. ‘I know I didn’t love you enough when you were that fiercely intelligent, questioning little boy who had his own agenda from the word go. I didn’t know how to be a mother. I’m doing my best to make up for it. You need love more
now
than you did when you were that little boy.’

He shook his head. ‘I don’t want to talk about this.’

‘But you must,’ she said. ‘Don’t close yourself off from the possibility of love. I saw how you looked at Shelley. I saw how she looked at you. You deserve love, no matter what you might think.’

Her voice caught in a tremor and he realised how difficult it was for his mother to be talking to him like this. He also saw how sincere she was.

‘I’ll take that on board,’ he said, relenting.

‘Whatever you might have thought in the past, whatever mistakes I’ve made, I’m on your side and I always will be. But I don’t want to grow into one of those old women protecting her sad, middle-aged son who never got over his wife’s loss. There’s a beautiful young woman there who might help you move on. Shelley won’t wait for ever, you know. Not a girl who looks like she does.’

‘It’s not just the way she looks,’ he muttered. ‘She’s kind, honest, good. So much more than just beautiful.’

He decided to tell his mother about the new bed of roses Shelley had planted in honour of Lisa and Alice.

‘What an incredibly sensitive and inspired thing to do.’ His mother’s voice was choked and she paused to wipe tears from her eyes. ‘The tragedy of it comes rushing back. I wish they were both still with us. I loved Lisa like a daughter. But this Shelley, she’s a rare one, Declan. Don’t let her go. Trust me, it will be like another little death for you if you do.’

Declan thought about what she’d said long after his mother left to go home. All through the long, lonely evening as he worked on the background of the Estella portrait and waited for the sound of his car bringing Shelley back home.

CHAPTER TWELVE

S
HELLEY
RECKONED
SHE
could have gone home from Lynne’s party with the phone numbers of at least three good-looking, single—or so they said—eligible men. And that wasn’t counting the television producer—she’d actually given him her number after ascertaining he was the real deal.

There was something to be said about a backless dress. Or maybe it was the reckless confidence that came from being so thoroughly kissed by the man she wanted before she’d sashayed on to the party. The power of pulling up to a party in a sports car probably did something to enhance her desirability to the male population, too.

But she didn’t collect any phone numbers. There was only one man who interested her and she was on her way home to him. Well, not technically home to him. He lived in the mansion, she lived in the housekeeper’s apartment and she’d be wise to remember that.

It was well past midnight when she pulled into the garage—the party was still in full swing but she’d only stayed as late as she did for Lynne’s sake. Before she could think about texting Declan that she was back, the connecting door from the main house opened and he was there. He still wore the same jacket, but his hair was dishevelled as though he had been pushing through it with his fingers as she’d noticed he tended to do. Dark shadows under his eyes indicated he hadn’t slept. His face wore an expression of strained expectancy.
Was that for her?

A surge of desire for him swept through her so powerfully she had to remain seated in the driver’s seat and grip the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles went white and press her knees together hard. Not just sexual desire—although there was certainly that in spades—but an intense yearning to be with him, to help ease his pain, to feel his arms around her, for him to be
hers
. Her heart seemed to physically turn over in her chest with longing for this darkly handsome man who had become so important, so quickly.

She took her time to gather her evening purse and shawl, slide out of the car, lock the door, to give herself a chance to collect her feelings before she faced him. Right now, a cheerful recounting of the assets of his superb car did not seem possible.

But words did not seem to be required as he strode towards her and opened his arms. ‘You’re home,’ he said. She went into them with a great, choking sigh of relief and shut her eyes in bliss as they closed around her and enveloped her in his strength and warmth.

He held her tight, his chin resting on the top of her head. She could feel the rise and fall of his chest, the thud of his heartbeat, strong, steady, reassuring and she let herself relax against him.

For a long, enchanted moment she stood there like that, unaware of her surroundings, the concrete walls and floor of the garage, the other cars shrouded in grey covers, the intermittent
ping-ping-ping
sounds the sports car made as its engine cooled down. She was aware only of Declan—and the joy that flooded her heart at being so close to him, the certainty that this was where she was meant to be.
That everything that had come before in her life had led to this.

‘Declan,’ she finally murmured, loving the sound of his name in her voice.

He pulled her even closer. She could feel the strength of his thighs, rock hard with muscle. ‘I spent all evening wishing you were with me,’ she murmured, then pulled back in his arms, needing to see his face.

His arms dropped from around her, leaving her bereft. Then he cupped her face in his large hands, hands she noticed were stained with traces of paint—blue, green, white all mixed in together—and smelled vaguely of turpentine. He caressed the little hollows in front of her ears—such a simple gesture yet it sent shivers of pleasure to her deepest core.

‘I spent all evening regretting I wasn’t,’ he said hoarsely.

She met his gaze. ‘I’m glad. I mean, I’m glad I’m not imagining this...this thing between us. These...these feelings.’

Declan groaned and her heart gave a painful lurch.
He was going to fight it all the way.
‘I...don’t know what to do about...about you. I wasn’t expecting, didn’t—’

‘Didn’t
want
...’ she supplied the words for him.

‘That’s right. I didn’t want the life I’d made for myself disturbed. Then you burst into it, flooding light into the shadows in which I existed.’

She swallowed hard against a sudden lump of tension in her throat.
She didn’t know how to reply.

He looked deeper into her face. ‘But eyes that have become accustomed to the dark can...can be dazzled by too much light too quickly. They blink and wonder what hit them.’

‘Like a bat,’ she said.

Shelley stilled, mortified.
Where had that idiotic comment come from?

Declan stilled too. His eyes widened as he stared at her. And then she realised he was shaking with laughter he was fighting a losing battle to suppress.

‘I... I’m sorry,’ she stuttered. ‘I can’t believe I just said that.’

‘First a vampire, now a bat. You really do see me as a creature of darkness, don’t you?’

He let go his laughter and she couldn’t help but laugh alongside him though it felt forced. But when the laughter spluttered to a halt, stopped, she berated herself. ‘Why do I say things like that? Why don’t I think before I speak? I’ve been told often enough.’

‘Because you’re
you
, delightful and unique and I wouldn’t have you any other way.’

She sniffed back threatening tears. ‘Really?’ A niggling voice deep down inside her prodded her—was that ill-timed comment her way of deflecting emotional confrontations she wasn’t at all sure she was equipped to handle?

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Really. I’ve laughed more since I’ve known you than I have since...since heaven knows when.’ He sobered. ‘Don’t change—promise me?’

She nodded. ‘I... I promise.’

‘Now how about we go inside out of this chilly garage?’ he said.

‘Yes,’ she said. She went to add:
It’s hardly the most romantic place on earth
but bit down on the words. There had been no mention of
romance
between them.

He put his arm around her shoulder and steered her towards the door. ‘You can think of some other dark creatures to compare me to. Maybe something that lives under a rock.’

Of course she took him literally and started to think of actual creatures that lived under rocks before she realised that was not what was required. ‘Not for one second will I compare you to a centipede or a slug.’

‘And I so appreciate that,’ he said. ‘Vampires and bats have a certain black glamour that slugs definitely do not.’

They laughed again as he walked her, with his arm still around her shoulders, into the house. Lights switched on automatically ahead of them but she immediately felt oppressed by the stillness, the vague mustiness of unlived-in rooms. She wanted to extend her time with him this evening but not here, not in this place so marked by tragedy and loss and dreams unfulfilled.

‘Did you...are you going to bed now?’ she asked, immediately wishing she’d said
sleep
and not
bed
with all its unspoken connotations.

‘No. You?’ He tightened his grip on her shoulder.

She shook her head. ‘I’m still way too wired up from the party. Can I...can I interest you in a herbal tea or coffee—I don’t drink coffee at night but you might want coffee—and perhaps a muffin? I baked banana muffins the other day and have them in the freezer. I just have to heat—’

Those dark brows drew together. ‘Did you say banana muffins?’

She nodded, wishing now she hadn’t brought up the subject. Not when she never wanted to admit how she had snuck into his house in her pyjamas and spied on him as he’d worked out.

‘Strange, that,’ he said. ‘I thought I could smell banana muffins in my kitchen. That inter-connecting door is meant to be odour, sound and light-proof.’

She froze. ‘Maybe...maybe you’d better get the door checked—the seals might need attention,’ she finally managed to get out.

‘I will,’ he said.

‘Let’s go through,’ she said.

‘I don’t have a key. The apartment is your private place.’ She’d wondered if he’d maintained access to the apartment, was glad that he hadn’t.

‘I... I have the key on the key ring in my purse,’ she said.

The apartment seemed a sanctuary but somehow smaller with Declan’s tall, broad-shouldered presence taking up so much room. She stood near him in the living room, suddenly very conscious that they were alone in complete privacy.

A meaningless fling.
The words echoed through her head and her body tingled in all sorts of places at the thought of what that might entail. He hadn’t offered one, why shouldn’t she?

Not
meaningless
but
without commitment
—commitment she very much doubted Declan was prepared to make, despite the kind words he’d said about her lighting his darkness.
She wanted him so much.

She turned to face him, thrilled to the desire for her she saw smouldering in his eyes. Her shawl was long gone and she knew from all the compliments she’d fielded at the party that she quite possibly looked the best she ever had in the blue dress.

But she’d been the one to deny the possibility of a fling. She would have to be the one to suggest it. She took the few steps needed to close the distance between them. She wound her arms around his neck, drew his face close and kissed him, her lips parted in a sensual invitation he accepted with a hard, hungry possession.

Pleasure and anticipation throbbed through her as she welcomed his mouth, his tongue, his passion. His hands slid around to her back, hard and exciting on her bare skin. She slid her hands from his neck so she could push off his jacket, tug his T-shirt from his belt with impatient fingers, splay her hands flat against the warm, solid muscle of his chest, feel the rapid thudding of his heart.

Her breath was coming in short, ragged gasps echoed by his. She wanted him so badly it was an ache. Every physical instinct she had screamed at her to proceed. To let Declan caress her—and her caress him back. To rid themselves of their clothes. To stagger into the bedroom locked in each other’s arms and fall together on the bed. To bring each other’s body to the peaks of ultimate pleasure.

But her instincts for common sense, for self-preservation, overrode them and begged her to stop this before it went any further. It was too soon—not just for her but for him.

She’d never been one for sex without emotion, without love. And she sensed that would never develop if the physical took over while the emotional lagged so far behind. Oh, but she wanted him so much she burned with it.

But as his hand grazed the side of her breasts, as her nipples tightened to hard points and hunger for him throbbed through her body she knew she couldn’t go through with a fling of any kind. That way lay certain heartbreak and she should have realised it before it got this far.

Meaningless would never be for her, no matter how you masked it.

She broke away from the kiss, panting. It was an effort to speak. ‘Declan. No. I mean... I mean... I mean stop.’
That sounded like such a cliché.
‘I don’t want you to think I’m a...a tease but I can’t go further than this. I thought I could. I want you. Want you more than I could ever have imagined but—’

He pulled away immediately, his breathing ragged and harsh. ‘But you’re not ready.’

She struggled for the right words. ‘Are you? I would make love with you in a heartbeat but I don’t think either of us is ready for that...that complication. Not now. Not yet. Some time I hope if you...when we...’ She did not want him to think she was assuming they would work towards being a couple—though there was nothing she wanted more.

He paced the width of the room and she could see it was an effort for him to restore his equilibrium. ‘You’re right. It’s too soon. I’m only just getting used to the thought of another woman—you—in my life. I don’t want to hurt you.’

He took the few strides necessary to bring him back to her. Then groaned in a wrenching anguish of frustration that called to her too and planted a hard, hungry kiss on her mouth. ‘But be in no doubt how much I want you. How difficult it is for me to stop.’

This was a man who knew how to love. She was prepared to wait until he felt able to love again. No matter how long that took.

She stepped back before her resolve broke and she flung herself at him and begged him for anything he was prepared to give. Another deep breath restored the beating of her heart to something less erratic.

‘How...how about that muffin?’ she asked, desperate to change the subject.

‘Satisfy a different kind of hunger, you mean,’ he said with a wry twist of that mouth she wanted so much to kiss and kiss and kiss again.

‘That’s one way of putting it,’ she said.

* * *

Declan watched Shelley move around the small kitchen with the same efficiency of movement she gave to her work. A warrior who could cook—and cook well. She’d put the frozen muffin in the microwave and a delicious—and familiar—aroma was wafting its way to his nose. He was hungry. All his appetites had diminished in the intensity of his grief after Lisa died. But Shelley had awoken them and they came raging back. Especially his hunger for her.

She’d kicked off her shoes before she went into the kitchen. But she still wore that tantalising blue dress. He had to stop fantasising about stripping it off her, of releasing those chains that were all that held it together. She was wearing panties under the dress, he’d ascertained that in his first explorations. But no bra. Unhook that chain and the dress would fall to the floor leaving her in just panties and her silver stilettos—and then not even them.

He forced himself to think thoughts other than of undressing Shelley and carrying her into the bedroom. He leaned against the countertop.

‘Tell me about the party,’ he said, though he had no real interest in it. She’d come home to him and that was all that counted.

‘I met a television producer. A friend of a friend of Keith’s. He was really nice.’