The Return Of Her Billionaire Husband / Revelations Of A Secret Princess

She placed her left hand against her temple and closed her eyes as if in silent prayer. ‘Please, Joe. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.’ She lowered her hand from her face and looked up at him again with an expression that shone anew with determination. ‘I’m going back to the room. To sleep. Alone.’

Juliette managed to slip away without any of the wedding party noticing and went back to the suite and closed the door with a heavy sigh. She’d been so tempted to dance with Joe all night, to find any excuse to be in his arms again. But that was the pathway to heartbreak because they didn’t belong together. Not then. Not now.

If only her body didn’t keep betraying her. It was so hard to keep her distance when he only had to look at her and her resistance melted. She had lowered her guard enough to tell him about her frustrating relationship with her parents and her doubts over her career going forward. It was a moment of weakness and yet she had drawn comfort from sharing so openly with him. He had been supportive and understanding in a way she hadn’t expected.

And then there was the stillbirth foundation…

She couldn’t get it out of her mind—how he had raised money for much-needed research. That all this time she had been judging him for not grieving the way she expected, but he’d been doing what he thought would help others. It made it harder for her to access her anger, to keep her emotional distance.

But it didn’t mean they had a future together.

How could they when they weren’t in love, had never been in love and would only be together for the sake of physical chemistry? That wasn’t enough to build a marriage on, especially a marriage that had suffered such a tragedy as theirs. A marriage that would never have come about if it hadn’t been for her accidental pregnancy. She wasn’t the type of woman he normally dated. She wasn’t sophisticated or super-smart and no one could ever call her supermodel beautiful. She would never have been his first choice of bride if she hadn’t fallen pregnant.

Juliette pulled the clips out of her hair and tossed them on the dressing table on her way to the bathroom. Joe’s shaving things were on the bathroom counter and his bottle of cologne right next to her cosmetics. A soft fluttering sensation passed over the floor of her belly. Sharing a bathroom was such an intimate thing to do. Would she be strong enough to resist the temptation he offered? She picked the cologne bottle up, took off the lid and held the neck of the bottle to her nose, closing her eyes to breathe in the citrus notes. She put the bottle back down and put the lid back on.

She had to be strong enough.

She had to.

Juliette came back out to the bedroom and glanced at her tote bag, where the divorce papers were stashed. On Sunday, after Lucy and Damon sailed off, she would whip them out and wave them under Joe’s nose, not before. It gave her a sense of power to know she had them there, waiting for the right moment. He thought he could snap his fingers and she would come running back to him as if nothing had changed. Everything had changed.

She had changed.

And she wasn’t changing back.

Joe came back to the suite later that night to find Juliette asleep in the bedroom with a bank of pillows dividing the king-sized bed in two sections. The bedside lamp was still on and the muted light cast her features into a golden glow. She had taken her hair down and it was spread out over the pillow. Her make-up was removed, leaving her skin as fresh and glowing as a child’s. Her mouth was relaxed in sleep, her lips softly parted, her breathing slow and even. He reached up and loosened his tie, slipping it from around his collar and tossing it to the chair in the corner of the bedroom.

Juliette’s eyes sprang open and she sat upright, blinking at him owlishly. ‘Oh, it’s you…’

‘Thanks for the hearty welcome.’ Joe began to unbutton his shirt.

Her gaze narrowed and she pulled the bedcovers further up her body. ‘What are you doing?’

‘What do you think I’m doing?’ He shrugged off his shirt and tossed it in the same direction as his tie. ‘I’m getting undressed.’

‘Can you do it in the bathroom?’ Her cheeks were a bright shade of pink and her eyes kept avoiding his. ‘And please wear boxers or something. And stay on that side of the bed.’

‘It’s a bit late to be shy, tesoro. I’m familiar with every inch of your body, as indeed you are with mine.’

She threw back the covers and dived for the bathrobe that was hanging over the back of another chair. He caught a tantalising glimpse of café-latte-coloured satin shortie pyjamas, one of the shoestring straps on the camisole top slipping off her shoulder to reveal the upper curve of her breast. She thrust her arms in the bathrobe’s sleeves and knotted the waist ties around her middle with unnecessary force, sending him a scalding glare. ‘Fine. Have it your way. You have the bed and I’ll sleep on the sofa.’ She began to stalk past him but he caught her wrist on the way and stalled her passage.

‘Don’t be so dramatic.’ He let her arm go, opening and closing his fingers to ease the tingling sensation touching her had produced. ‘I’m not going to force myself on you. You have the bed. I’ll take the sofa.’

She bit down on her lip and glanced towards the other section of the suite where the smallish sofa was situated. ‘You’re too tall for it. You won’t sleep a wink.’

He wasn’t going to sleep a wink anyway, not with her so temptingly close. Seeing her all sleep tousled with so much of her creamy skin on show was already stretching the limit of his self-control. ‘I’m sure we can manage to share a bed for two nights without crossing any boundaries.’

She fiddled with the waist ties of her bathrobe, her teeth still worrying her lip. ‘Okay. But you have to promise not to touch me.’

He placed his hand on his heart. ‘You have my solemn word.’

Juliette pursed her lips, her gaze searching his for a moment. ‘Why do I get the feeling you’re laughing at me?’

He lowered his hand from his chest and dropped it back down by his side. ‘Believe me, cara. It’s been a long time since I laughed.’

Her eyes fell away from his and a shadow crossed her features. She turned back to the bed and climbed back under the covers, pulling them up to her chin and turning her back to him. ‘Goodnight.’

Joe’s gaze went to the box of sleep medication on her bedside table. He came over to her side of the bed and perched on the edge. ‘How long have you been taking those?’ He pointed to the medication sitting next to a glass of water.

Juliette turned over onto her back, her expression defensive. ‘I only use them when I can’t sleep.’

‘And how often is that?’

Her eyes shifted out of reach of his and her fingers began plucking at the hem of the sheet. ‘More often than not…’ Her voice was hardly more than a whisper.

Joe stroked back a strand of hair from her forehead, his chest so tight he could barely inflate his lungs to breathe. Guilt rained down on him over how he had handled the last few months. She had suffered alone when he should have been by her side. He’d thought keeping his distance was what she wanted but it clearly hadn’t helped her through the grieving process. It certainly hadn’t helped him either. So many platitudes sprang to his lips—like the irritating comments other people had made to him.

Time is a great healer.

It will get easier.

You’ll be stronger for it.

Instead, he stayed silent.

Her shimmering gaze met his and his chest tightened another painful notch. ‘I can’t help blaming myself. Maybe I shouldn’t have flown home to England to visit my parents before they went on their trip. I didn’t need to go. I could have asked them to visit me instead.’

And why had she flown home to England? Because he’d been away on yet another work commitment, leaving her to fend for herself. If anyone was to blame, it was him. Joe took one of her hands and anchored it to his aching chest. ‘No. You mustn’t blame yourself.’ His voice was so rough it could have filed through metal. ‘You had a dream pregnancy up until then.’

Her mouth twisted. ‘You weren’t there for the first three months. It wasn’t such a dream pregnancy then. I was sick just about every day.’

Joe wished he had been there but she hadn’t told him until she was twelve weeks along. He laid her hand on his thigh, moving his thumb over the back of her hand in slow soothing strokes. ‘I was going to contact you so many times after we slept together that night.’

A frown creased her smooth brow. ‘Were you? You never told me that before.’

Joe gave a wry half-smile. ‘We hadn’t exchanged numbers but I managed to find your details online because of your publishing career. I thought of emailing you numerous times, suggesting we meet up for a drink or something.’

‘Why didn’t you?’

‘You were still getting over your ex. I didn’t think you were ready to move on.’

She lowered her gaze and slipped her hand out of his hold and grasped the edge of the bedcovers. ‘I think I was over Harvey as soon as he told me he was in love with Clara. But you would’ve only been offering a fling back then, not something lasting.’ She issued it as a statement rather than a question.

Joe stood from the bed and looked down at her, unwilling to confirm or deny it. He had never felt the need to settle down with anyone long-term. He’d preferred to live in a world outside permanent attachment. A safe world. A world where he couldn’t hurt or be hurt in return. ‘Try and get some sleep, cara. Goodnight.’

Juliette listened while Joe had a shower in the bathroom. She tried to stop her mind filling with images of him under the hot spray of water, tried to stop thinking of the times she had shared a shower with him in the past. The blistering passion, the drumming need, the explosive orgasms.

She groaned under her breath and turned so her back was facing the bathroom, tucking her legs up close to her torso and squeezing her eyes shut. She waited for him to join her in the bed, waited for the familiar press of his weight down on the mattress, her senses so alert she knew it would be impossible to settle into sleep. She opened her eyes and saw the medication next to her glass of water. She sat up, pressed one out of the blister packet and swallowed it down with a gulp of water.

She lay back down and waited for the slow but inexorable drag down into mindless slumber…

CHAPTER SIX

JULIETTE DIDN’T KNOW how long she had been asleep when she woke. It was still dark except for a beam of silvery moonlight peeping through a gap in the curtains, illuminating the bed…the half empty bed. She sat up and pushed her hair away from her face and frowned at the vacant space beside her. The pillows were undented, the sheets smooth, showing no sign Joe had even momentarily lain down beside her.

A perverse sense of pique washed over her. Why hadn’t he slept beside her? Did he find her repulsive? Was he worried she might cross to his side of the bed? She pushed off the bedcovers and, ignoring the bathrobe laid over the chair, padded through to the sitting room area.

Joe was sitting in a slumped position on the sofa, his long legs stretched out in front of him, his head on one side, his eyes closed in a deep sleep. He was naked except for a bath towel anchored around his lean hips.

Juliette knew she should tiptoe back to bed. Knew she shouldn’t feel a smidgeon of compassion for him for having spent an uncomfortable night sleeping upright. Knew she had no right to stare at his tanned athletic body bathed in moonlight, making him look like a Greek god rather than human. But her feet seemed to be anchored to the floor, her eyes drawn to him with the force of an industrial-sized magnet.

She wasn’t aware of making a sound but suddenly his eyes opened and he blinked and sat upright, scraping a hand through his already tousled hair.

‘Was I snoring?’ he asked with a grimace.

‘No. Is that a new habit you’ve acquired since we…?’ She left the sentence hanging but couldn’t explain why. He’d told her there’d been no one else since she’d left but one day there would be. That was something she didn’t want to think about too closely. Someone else in his life. In his bed. In his arms. Experiencing the mind-blowing passion she missed to this day.

Joe drew his legs to a right-angled position, leaned forward and rested his forearms on his thighs. ‘Not that I know of.’

There was a moment of silence. A silence so loaded the air seemed to be weighted, making it hard for Juliette to breathe.

‘Why didn’t you sleep in the bed?’

Joe lifted his head to look at her, his eyes so dark they could have been black holes in space. ‘I didn’t want to disturb you. You looked like you needed your sleep.’ His voice had a rough edge that made something in her belly lose its footing.

Juliette rolled her lips together and came a little closer, drawn to him as if her body had a will of its own. ‘Joe…it’s okay if you want to share the bed. Really, we’re both mature adults and—’

‘It’s fine. I got a couple of hours. It’s all I need.’ He rose from the sofa, securing the towel around his hips, and walked over to the windows, pushing the curtains further aside to look at the moonlit view.

She couldn’t take her eyes off the sculpted perfection of his back and shoulder muscles, taut buttocks and his long strong thighs and calves below the hip-height towel. Just knowing he was naked under that towel was enough to send her female hormones into a cheerleading routine. Sensations stirred low in her body—sensual, erotic memories of his thick, hard presence moving within her.

Joe turned from the window and brushed his hair back from his forehead. ‘Go back to bed, Juliette.’ His tone was part stern authority and part growing impatience.

Juliette took a step towards him. ‘Joe…’

He closed the distance between them and placed his hands on the tops of her shoulders. The warmth of his fingers seeped into her flesh, awakening needs and desires she wasn’t sure she could control. His hooded eyes drifted to her mouth, his breath hitching, his body so close her breasts brushed against his chest. The smooth satin of her shortie pyjamas couldn’t hide her body’s reaction to him. She could feel the tensing of her nipples, the spreading tingles in her breasts, the smouldering heat in her core.

His hand cupped one side of her face, his thumb moving across her cheek like the arm of a slow-beating metronome. ‘Kissing you would be the easy part. Stopping at one kiss, however, would be something else.’ His voice was so rough it sounded as if he’d been gargling with gravel.

Juliette’s gaze lowered to his sensually shaped lips and something in her stomach fell off a high shelf. ‘Who said I wanted you to kiss me?’ Her voice was too breathy to relay the cool indifference she’d aimed for.

One side of his mouth tipped up in a crooked smile that did serious damage to her resolve to resist him. His thumb stroked across her lower lip, back and forth in a mesmerising, spine-tingling rhythm. ‘When I arrived here this weekend I was so determined I wasn’t going to do this.’

Juliette hadn’t realised she’d moved until she found herself flush against him, the hard jut of his hips, the proud rise of his male flesh setting her body on fire. ‘Do what?’ Her voice was so soft it could barely be called a whisper.

‘You know exactly what.’ And his mouth came down and covered hers.

Juliette knew she should have pulled away right then. She should have stopped it from going any further. She shouldn’t have allowed herself to be tempted, much less give into it. But as soon as his lips met hers, something hard and tight and bitter inside her collapsed like a house of cards. His lips moved against hers in an exploratory fashion, as if he was reminding himself of her contours, her taste, her texture. She groaned and opened to him and his tongue met hers in an erotic dance that made the hairs on the back of her neck tingle and the base of her spine fizz.

Her hands moved from his chest to link around his neck, her fingers playing with the thick black strands of his hair. He made a low growling sound deep in his throat and changed position, deepening the kiss until the bones in her legs threatened to melt like candlewax in a cauldron.

Joe’s hands framed her face, his breathing almost as hectic as hers. After long breathless moments he lifted his mouth off hers, gazing down at her for an infinitesimal pause before sealing her lips once more with a softly muttered curse, as if he too hated himself for his weakness where she was concerned.

One of his hands left her face and went to the small of her back, pressing her closer to the tantalising ridge of his male flesh. His other hand went to the nape of her neck, his long fingers splayed into the tingling roots of her hair. Shivers coursed up and down her back, her inner core hosting a welcome party, darts of pleasure shooting between her legs.

Joe lifted his mouth off hers and placed his hands on her hips, stepping back from her a fraction. ‘I think it might be time to stop.’ Something in his tone belied his words—the gruffness, the rueful note, the chord of longing so low she might have missed it if she hadn’t been feeling it herself.

Stop? Now?

When her body was screaming for the release it craved? And why the hell hadn’t she been the one to stop this madness? She felt hot shame flushing into her face and she shoved his hands off her hips and stepped further back, chest heaving as if she were an affronted heroine in a period drama. ‘What the hell do you think you’re playing at, kissing me like that?’

One of his ink-black eyebrows rose in a sardonic arc. ‘I could ask you the same question.’

Juliette couldn’t hold his gaze and swung away. ‘I’m going to have a shower. It’ll soon be time to get up and get ready for the wedding anyway.’ She strode into the bathroom and locked the door, leaning back against it with a ragged sigh. Why had she allowed him to prove how weak she was? How vulnerable to his touch? How lacking in immunity?

How dangerously ambiguous her feelings…

The wedding was to be held in the morning on the beach. Somehow Juliette had managed to shower and dress without running into Joe. He had left the suite while she was in the shower, and because she was heading to Lucy’s room for a hair and make-up session with the other bridesmaids she didn’t expect to see him again until the ceremony.

Lucy handed Juliette a glass of champagne on arrival. ‘Get that into you. Now, tell me how last night went. Did you guys kiss and make up?’

Juliette took the champagne but decided against taking anything but a token sip. ‘Let’s talk about you, not me. Are you nervous?’

Lucy beamed. ‘Me? Nervous? I can’t wait to marry Damon.’ Her smile dimmed a little. ‘I just wish things were better between you and Joe. Are you sure there’s no hope of a reconciliation?’

‘It’s not what either of us wants.’

‘Are you sure about that? I saw the way he was watching you last night. He could barely take his eyes off you. And when you two were dancing, well, anyone would have thought you were—’

‘We’re not.’ Juliette’s tone was emphatic. She opened the long narrow box that contained Lucy’s hand-embroidered veil. ‘He slept on the sofa.’

‘Oh…’

Juliette turned to look at her friend. ‘I don’t want your wedding to be spoilt by my dramas with Joe.’ She painted a bright smile on her face. ‘Now, let’s get you ready to marry the man of your dreams. Your dress looks amazing, by the way.’

Lucy twirled this way and that in her voluminous tulle and satin dress. It made her mixed-race complexion look all the more stunning. ‘You don’t think I look too much like a meringue?’ There was a dancing light in her eyes. ‘It was a toss-up between this one and the figure-hugging one we looked at together in Mayfair but I’ve always wanted to be a princess for a day.’

‘You look exactly like a princess,’ Juliette said, trying to ignore a tiny jab of envy. ‘A princess in love.’

Joe stood next to Damon under the canopy of tropical flowers that had been set up on the beach. He was trying not to think of his own wedding, how different it was from this one. If he and Juliette had married in a more relaxed and informal setting, would it have helped? His goal had been to get married to her as soon as possible for the sake of the baby. The cold and austere village church where generations of her family had been christened, wed or buried would not have been his first choice. But he had wanted Juliette to feel supported by her family, given he had none to speak of.

Damon nudged him. ‘Here they come.’

Joe turned and saw Juliette leading the way up the flower-strewn red carpet that had been laid down on the sand. She was dressed in a deep blue satin dress the colour of the ocean that pulsed nearby. The dress clung to her body like a slinky glove, outlining the gentle swell of her hips, the narrow waist, the slight globes of her breasts. There was a garland of flowers in her hair, giving her an A Midsummer Night’s Dream, almost ethereal look. His chest tightened, his breath stalled, his guilt throbbed. He had failed her in so many ways. He had made promises to love and protect her but he had failed on both counts. Romantic love was something he had never committed to. He doubted it even existed except perhaps in rare cases.

It had certainly never existed for him.

But seeing Juliette walking towards him now, something shifted in his chest. A slippage. A softening. A tightly locked space slowly opening…

He snapped it shut. Bang. Bolted the door.

He was comforted by the all too familiar jolt of his emotions shutting down. It was safer not to feel too deeply. To leave stray feelings unexplored. To deny them access through the firewall of his control tower.

Juliette met his gaze and a tremulous smile formed on her lips. The soft lips he had kissed early that morning and only just managed to stop kissing before he lost control. Kissing her made him realise how dangerous it was to be around her. It made him want her. Need her. Crave her. But how could he hope for a rerun of their relationship? What right did he have to insist on a second chance? It would only cause more pain, more heartache. It was practically his brand—projecting pain, heartache and loss onto the people he cared about. It was better he didn’t care. It was better he didn’t want. It was better not to hope.

Her gaze moved away and a sense of disappointment sank in his stomach like a stone.

Her smile was for the crowd, for appearances’ sake.

It wasn’t for him.

Juliette couldn’t look at Joe without blushing over their kiss that morning. She couldn’t look at him and not think about their own wedding. Their cold and duty-bound wedding where the promises he made had meant nothing.

But had hers meant something? Anything? Juliette gave an inward frown, wondering why her conscience was bringing this up now. She hadn’t been the one to insist on marriage. She had done the right thing in telling him he was to be a father, to give him the option of being involved or not. She could have refused his offer… Why hadn’t she?