The Secret Baby Revenge

The Secret Baby Revenge

Emma Darcy

MILLS & BOON

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CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER ONE

OPENING night at Sydney’s new Havana Club and Joaquin Luis Sola stood at the extremely busy bar, waiting for the drinks he’d ordered and idly watching the talent on the dance floor swirl by. His friend, legal advisor, and highly eligible man about town, Tony Fisher, had promised all the beautiful people would be here, to see and be seen in the hotspot of the moment, and Quin could undoubtedly pick himself a partner for more than dancing.

Much waggling of eyebrows to underline the point, but for Quin, joining Tony’s party was more an escape from a sense of restless boredom than a quest for casual sex. Having recently ended a less than satisfying relationship, Quin wasn’t sure he wanted to complicate his life with another woman just yet. A one-night stand didn’t appeal, either. He wasn’t actually watching for targets of possible interest, just watching…

A colourful kaleidoscope of couples were swinging around the dance floor, doing the salsa. Latin American dancing was big on the social scene right now due to a number of popular television shows featuring competitions. The Havana Club was cleverly capitalising on this latest trend.

“Great way of meeting people,” Tony had enthused. “Everyone putting themselves on display, strutting their stuff.”

They were certainly doing that, Quin thought, somewhat bemused by the exuberant and very public plunge into fun and fantasy. Most of the people here had wildly embraced Latin dance fashion; the guys in fitted shirts with big cuffs, bootleg pants, much attention paid to their hairdos; the women very glamorous in slinky sheaths with side splits, skintight black pants with halter midriff tops, frilled skirts and strappy stilettos.

Being in this club was like being in an exotic and erotic foreign country. Quin could see its appeal—a quick fix escape from the pressures of today’s fast and frantic society—a place where people could let their hair down, revel in uninhibited dress-ups, enjoy the primitive pleasure of moving to music, not to mention the sexual excitement…with the right partner.

A flashy couple caught his eye. The guy was all in white, his long black hair slicked back into a ponytail—very dramatic with his dark olive skin and hard featured handsome face. The woman partnering him was wearing a virtually backless black dress, its figure-hugging skirt ending in a ruffle edged in white. She also had long black hair, but it was a wild loose mass of curls falling to below her shoulder-blades, reminding Quin instantly of Nicole Ashton—not a memory he cared to dwell on.

“Your drinks, sir?”

Quin paid the bartender, cynically reflecting that the price of cocktails in this club belonged to the fantasy realm, too, aimed at a clientele who never counted the cost. Strange how it didn’t matter how wealthy he had become, the concept of value for money still counted in his mind. Not that it stopped him from doing or buying whatever he wanted. It was simply impossible to forget the lessons of poverty.

With the drinks firmly clutched in his hands, Quin turned to weave his way around the crowded dance floor to the tables Tony had claimed for his party, and found the woman with Nicole’s hair twirling right in front of him.

She had a great body; lush breasts straining against a halter-necked bodice edged in white. The skirt was split up to midthigh, the ruffle following the opening up, diminishing to a white tie-belt around a hand-span waist. Her hips were female poetry and her long shapely legs flashed with sexy elegance.

The guy in white caught her and dipped her over his knee, her lovely lithe body arched, toes in their black stilettos pointed, head thrown back, hair sweeping the floor, stunning green eyes sparkling with pleasure, her whole beautiful face vividly lit by a laughing smile—a face that delivered such a jolt to Quin, the drinks he was carrying sloshed over the rims of the glasses.

It was Nicole!

The thump to his heart and the kick to his gut were instantaneous. Shock, he tried to reason, after he’d pulled himself back from shooting a blistering bolt of hatred at the guy in white and halted the rampant urge to tear Nicole away from him.

Quite simply hadn’t expected to run into her like this, hadn’t expected their paths ever to cross again. She’d gone overseas after breaking up with him, taking herself completely out of his reach, yet here she was in this Sussex Street club, right under his nose. And attached to another guy.

Which also stood to reason, Quin savagely told himself. Why wouldn’t she move on to other men? He’d moved on to other women, though never feeling the same intensity Nicole had drawn from him. In fact, he hadn’t wanted to feel any deep emotional connection with anyone after she had walked out of his life. It was easier to function on the fast-moving business level without that kind of distraction.

And it was totally absurd to get in a twist over Nicole now. What was gone was gone. He wrenched his gaze away from the dance floor and guarded the drinks in his hands as he made his way back to those in Tony’s party who were sitting out this number. He sat down next to Amber Piramo who’d requested the liquid refreshment, expecting him to pay and deliver, expecting her every whim to be indulged because she was the beautiful socialite daughter of old-wealth parents.

“Oh, thank you, my darling Quin,” she gushed. “I am totally, totally dehydrated.”

He wasn’t her darling, and despite her obvious physical attractions, the overly flirtatious manner grated on him. He had to force a smile as he responded, “Sorry I was so long at the bar.”

“No problem.” She patted his thigh as she added, “It’s been fun just watching the other dancers.”

His leg muscles tensed, instinctively repelling the touch. His jaw clenched, too. The only touch he wanted…but Nicole was with someone else now.

Amber withdrew the inviting hand and wrapped it around her glass. She drank too much, too fast, revealing a reckless disregard for the alcoholic content of the cocktail. Quin hoped she wasn’t working up some courage to be more direct in coming onto him. While it might be an old-fashioned attitude these days, he still felt it was a man’s prerogative to be the hunter.

His gaze instinctively targeted Nicole as the music stopped. Her ponytailed partner swept her to a table where another guy had just left a woman with wildly purple hair—definitely not a shrinking violet, wearing a black midriff top and skintight hot-pink pants. Intriguingly the three of them cosied up together, chatting and laughing—two women, one man between them, all very friendly.

Quin’s view of them was blocked by Tony, comically miming wobbly legs and wiping his brow as he escorted his latest amour, Nina Salter-Smythe off the dance floor. “I need a fast and long injection of cold beer,” he declared, leaving Nina at the table while he headed for the bar. She suggested a visit to the powder room to Amber and the two women went off together, leaving Quin free to watch Nicole without interruption.

He tried reminding himself this was a woman who had rejected him. He shouldn’t be giving her a second thought, let alone a second look. It was an exercise in futility, in frustration.

Yet all his aggressive instincts were on fire. She’d been his woman and he wanted another chance with her. If she wasn’t actually married to the Latin lover who was flashing his eyes at both women indiscriminately, he had room to move.

And move he would.

His whole body was screaming at him to do it, mount an attack, get Nicole back into his life.

The moment Tony returned to the table, ready to play jovial host to the rest of his party friends, Quin was on his feet to intercept him before he sat down. “Spotted someone I want to meet,” he explained. “Excuse me, won’t you?”

“Wait a sec,” came the quick protest. “How goes it with Amber? She’s been eyeing you over.”

“Non-event,” Quin almost snapped, raising his hand to ward off any further comment as he swung to make a beeline for the woman who was the only event in his mind tonight.

CHAPTER TWO

NICOLE was having fun. She was glad she’d let Jade and Jules talk her into accompanying them here tonight. They had argued she should be armed with a firsthand report of the new Havana Club to pass onto her pupils, unaware that the dance school she was managing for her mother was in such dire debt that Nicole couldn’t see a way out of it. She had accepted their invitation in a desperate need to push her worries aside for a while, to simply enjoy the zany company of her friends and not think about facing tomorrow until it came.

“Handsome hunk zeroing in on you, Nic.” Jade rolled her big brown eyes expressively. “To your left. Nine o’clock.”

Nicole laughed. “Score out of ten?”

“Ten plus.”

She shook her head disbelievingly. Ever since Jade had returned from her extensive work experience with designers in Europe to set up business in Sydney, she had been trying to fix Nicole up with some guy, preaching one should keep involved with everything life had to offer, seeing Nicole’s single status as unhealthy, even stunting her growth as a woman.

Jules leaned over and whispered in her ear, “Got to say Jade’s spot-on. Mega macho bearing down on you. A star player.”

Nicole winced at that phrase. Jules wouldn’t know it—not his field—but it was the phrase used in banking circles to describe the top guns on the trading floor, and she’d once been intimately attached to a star player. Attached and burnt.

“Nicole…”

That voice…a convulsive little shiver instantly ran down her spine. Her skin went cold. Her stomach contracted as her head jerked around, reacting to the need to deny the recognition blasting her mind and thumping into her heart. Except the recognition was not a mad mistake.

“Quin…” His name fell from her lips before she could catch it back, and the awful part was the lingering sound of it seemed to carry a longing that was intensely embarrassing. She should have been expressing surprise.

It was certainly that.

He smiled, hitting her with the same megawatt attraction that had been her downfall seven years ago, his bullet grey eyes cutting straight through all lines of defence. The only thing that had changed about him were the silver threads shining through his thick thatch of black hair, giving a more mature authority to his strikingly handsome face—a face which had never lacked authority with its sharply chiselled features adding male strength and character to it. His tall, powerful physique shouted strength, as well, not to mention compelling sex appeal.

“Good to see you again, Nicole,” he rolled out, the smooth deep timbre of his voice raising goose-bumps.

“What are you doing here?” The words burst abruptly from a surge of resentment at the way he could still affect her. He had dominated her life for two years—two years that had ultimately taught her she was nothing more than a sexual convenience to him.

His smile wasn’t even slightly shaken. “I enjoy dancing…remember?”

She didn’t want to remember anything. Though he had been a great dancer the few times it actually suited him to partner her at parties.

“Hi! I’m Jade Zilic.” Typical Jade, too fascinated to wait for an introduction, hand thrust out in ready friendship. “And you are?”

“Joaquin Sola. Mostly called Quin.” He took her hand, nodding a polite acknowledgment, looking enquiringly at Jules.

“My partner, Jules,” Jade obliged, leaving Nicole exposed as partnerless tonight.

Jules thrust out his hand and it was promptly taken and shaken with vigour. “Pleased to meet you both,” Quin said, warm pleasure positively emanating from him.

Field clear, Nicole bitterly interpreted, though second thoughts zipped into her mind. Quin could not be here womanless. A man like him didn’t have to go anywhere alone and he wouldn’t to a club. No doubt he had some banking clique with him, having a night on the town.

“I have one question for you,” Jade shot at him, her eyes dancing wicked mischief.

“Yes?” he invited.

“Are you wearing Nick’s Knickers?”

The charming smile definitely faltered at that point, his gaze swinging to Nicole, furrowed brow indicating fast reassessment of the situation. Did the somewhat bawdy question relate to knowledge of his being Nicole’s former lover? Was he being cast as a bunny here? Someone to make fun of?

Nicole quite enjoyed seeing the brilliant Joaquin Sola lost for a moment. It made her feel slightly less vulnerable. Though when his thick black eyelashes lowered and a steamy look smoked through them at her, suggesting his thoughts had fastened on her knickers, she rushed out an explanation of the question.

“It’s a new range of male underwear, designed and promoted by my friends here.”

A deeper frown as his gaze sliced back to her friends. “Business partners?”

“Uh-huh. With very hot merchandise,” Jules advised with a wide grin.

“Guaranteed to bring out the devil in a man,” Jade backed up, then heaved a dramatic sigh of woe. “The advertising campaign can’t be working as effectively as it should if Quin hasn’t even caught onto the brand name.”

“Don’t judge by his ignorance,” Nicole dryly commented. “Quin doesn’t have the time nor the inclination to watch commercial television.”

“Really?” Jade eyed him in arch disbelief, then trilled one of her coquettish laughs. “Well, can’t say you look like a couch potato. More like an action man. Which is why you should be buying Nick’s Knickers. A great turn-on, believe me. Jules tries them out on me to measure response.”

“He…models them…for your approval?” Quin asked, pouncing on the chance to draw more information.

“Hey! I don’t let him stop at modelling.” Jade smooched up to her totally committed partner in every sense. “Do I, honey-bun?” she purred.

“Stokes the fire every time,” Jules said with happy satisfaction.

It gave Quin satisfaction, too, having no doubt now that business was mixed with pleasure with this duo, confirming Nicole’s availability for his own interest. “Nothing like personal endorsement,” he said appreciatively. “Next time I’m shopping for underwear, I’ll look for your range.”

“No wife to choose it for you, Quin?” Nicole slid in coolly, trying to ward off the heat she knew he was going to turn on her.

“No. No wife,” he quickly asserted.

“Perhaps I should have said partner,” she drawled. “As I recall, you were commitment-shy.”

“On the contrary, I’d say I had a history of excessive commitment.” He effected an ironic grimace. “Unfortunately, not always choosing the right priority at the right time, much to my regret. I plan on correcting that error in judgment.”

“Lucky for the woman you’re with now,” Nicole rolled back at him, burning over the smooth reference to regrets. Quin was a master at pressing the right buttons to get what he wanted and from the amount of forceful energy being directed at her, she had no doubt he was hunting her head for a new round of pillow-talk in the very near future.

He shrugged. “I’m not with any particular woman.”

“You mean no one of any importance,” she mocked, knowing the only people of importance to Joaquin Sola were those who served his ambition.

“Every person has value,” he quickly slung at her, the clever grey eyes giving her a flatteringly high evaluation on the desirability scale.

“You’re right,” she agreed silkily, her own eyes sizzling with challenge as she added, “but to some people, money counts for a lot more than anyone’s value.”

Her eyes were locked onto his, watching his sharp intelligence go to work on the conflicts that had ruptured their relationship five years ago.

“Let’s not pretend money doesn’t count, Nicole. It adds a value to everyone. Like it or not, it’s the way the world works,” he asserted sardonically.

Too true. And the bottom was going to fall out of her world for the lack of it. A surge of hatred for all the moneymakers who cared for nothing else poured acid into her voice.

“How are you measuring your worth these days, Quin?” she mocked, goaded into striking directly at him. “Have you reached your target yet? How many million were you aiming for? Or was there no fixed number in your mind, just a cumulative amount that could never be enough?”

He cocked his head, weighing the load of bitterness he’d probably heard in her words. “What would you consider enough, Nicole?” he asked softly. “What would meet your needs?”

For a moment she was seduced by the thought that Quin might now have deep enough pockets to actually come to the rescue. But that would involve him in her life, and if she opened one door to him…no, she couldn’t go there. Far more would be at stake than the financial ruin she and her mother were facing. Some wreckages one could recover from. Others lasted a lifetime.

She looked at him with arch scepticism and said, “My needs were never part of your equation.”

“I’d like to make them so.”

“Since when? Two minutes ago? The moment you decided to break in on my night out?”

“If the intention is sincere, the timing shouldn’t be relevant.”

She shook her head at this arrogant belief that her past experience with him and the years between then and now could simply be dismissed. “It’s a bit late to be showing interest in me, Quin, and quite frankly, I have none in you,” she stated bluntly.

“It shouldn’t ever be too late to make some amends on past mistakes,” he argued.

“Raking over dead ashes is hardly profitable,” she mocked.

“Amazing how often a live ember is found.”

He was just as aware as she was that the chemistry between them was still active. It had led her down a destructive path once and Nicole was determined it would not take her there again. “A spark of fool’s gold, Quin,” she strongly asserted.

“Not if it can be fanned into a flame. It’s a cold life without fire, Nicole.”

“I’m sure there are many warm hearths that would welcome you.”

“One burnt more brightly than any other. I’d like to find my way back to it.”

“Unfortunately I can’t provide you with a magic door. You’ll have to look elsewhere.” She waved her hand in conclusive farewell. “Hasta la vista.”

He nodded an acknowledgment of her dismissal, but there was no acceptance of defeat in his eyes as he answered, “Until we meet again.” A whimsical little smile was directed at Jade and Jules. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“And fascinating to make yours,” Jade instantly replied, goggle-eyed over the encounter.

“Try Nick’s Knickers,” Jules advised. “Magic door every time.”

Quin laughed, saluting them both as he moved off, no doubt warming himself with the satisfaction of knowing he’d made a winning impression on her friends.

Nicole gritted her teeth. One favourable comment about him from either Jade or Jules and she’d explode. The duel of words with Quin had left her pumped up—typical of any exchange between them. He’d got to her. He always had, putting an electric charge under her skin. No other man had ever come close to affecting her as Quin did, but that didn’t mean he was good for her. No way! And something savage in her wanted him to taste defeat—taste it, know it, hate it as much as she had.

Both Jade and Jules were looking at her as though they were seeing an entirely different woman to the Nicole they were familiar with, eyes avid with curiosity but mouths firmly buttoned until she opened up. Which she was not about to do. The door was shut on Joaquin Luis Sola.

“There’s no going back,” she stated flatly. “I don’t live at that address anymore.”

“The one you shared with him?” Jade quickly speculated.

“It wasn’t a place of sharing. It was a place of possession. Always on his terms.”

“Bad place,” Jules muttered sympathetically.

Nicole nodded. “I live in a different space now.”

“Maybe you’ve made your current space too tight,” Jade posed seriously. “What if he no longer lives at that address, either? Time and timing—” she wriggled her fingers “—very tricky things. Shifting sands, different circumstances, revolving doors…how long ago was it when you and Quin were an item?”

Jade had not been in Australia then, but if Nicole pinpointed the time it would be like handing her friend a bone she would gnaw at with intolerable persistence. Jade was far too adept at putting two and two together.

“Doesn’t matter,” she said, shrugging as she stood up from the table. “Distance has not made the heart grow fonder so just let this one go. Okay? I’m off to the powder room.”

“Seems a terrible waste,” she heard Jade mutter in a disgruntled tone.

Nicole made good her escape, hoping the subject of Quin would not be revived when she returned. Even so, the fun had gone out of the evening. Just knowing he was here made her feel tense, her nerves prickling with the sense of a dangerous threat to the life she’d made without him.

She wished she could just walk away right now, but leaving the club would signal a vulnerability she didn’t want to reveal, not to Jade and Jules, and certainly not to Quin Sola. If he was watching, if he came after her…no, she had to act as though she was totally impervious to his presence.

The powder room provided a safe refuge though she could only take a brief respite there if she was not to give the impression of hiding. The place was crowded—a queue for toilet cubicles and a crush of women along the vanity bench; washing hands, repairing make-up, restoring hairstyles. Nicole joined the queue and tried to block memories of Quin from crawling through her mind by eavesdropping on others’ conversations. Ironically, not even here was she free of him.

“So how goes it with Quin Sola?”

The question came loud and clear through the babble of general chat, drawing Nicole’s startled gaze to a pretty brunette in red who was looking archly at a tall beautiful blonde, definitely out of the same mould as Paris Hilton, dressed in a second skin blue mini-dress and practising a sexy pout in the mirror.

“Oh, I don’t know that he’s worth having,” she drawled.

“Not worth having! The hottest trader in town? Everyone with any money is using his financial services company. The guy has made billions. And he’s an eye-candy hunk, as well.”

His company…billions…not the star player for an international bank anymore, Nicole realised. Somewhere along the past five years Quin must have moved to being his own man, no doubt accumulating far more personal wealth by working on his terms.

“Wow! Point me in his direction,” someone eagerly requested, triggering a cheerful chorus of “Me, too,” from other chance listeners.

The outburst was ignored.