Baby On The Tycoon's Doorstep

And breathe.

It had not been a good day. Usually she loved her job, enjoyed the variety and satisfaction of being an events planner. But today the bride whose wedding she was helping to organise had had an enormous row with her mother, followed by an emotional meltdown on Isobel’s shoulder. All over the colour of the bridesmaids’ dresses.

On that thought her phone rang and she picked up. ‘Hello. Isobel Brennan.’

‘Isobel?’ For a moment she almost dropped the phone. ‘It’s Caro.’

‘Caro. Is that really you?’ Relief and happiness intermingled; she hadn’t seen nor heard from Caro for three years, every effort to contact her best friend stonewalled.

‘Yes. It’s me. It is so good to hear your voice, Isobel, and I’m so sorry for not being in touch for so long. And I’m sorry that I’m calling now because I need a favour. A huge favour.’

‘It’s OK.’ Isobel could hear the break in Caro’s voice, the quiet desperation. ‘You can ask me anything, Caro.’

‘Martin and I had a baby. A little girl called Emily. She’s three months old and I love her so much. She is the best thing that has ever happened to me.’

‘That’s amazing news.’ Isobel’s head spun at the realisation that Caro had become a mother.

‘Yes. But...’ Caro took a deep breath. ‘I’m scared for her.’ Now there was heightened anxiety in Caro’s voice, her every word edged with tears. ‘Martin has been in prison—he wasn’t around for most of my pregnancy or for the birth. But he’s coming out tomorrow—I found out he’s being released early—I can’t let him anywhere near Emily. So I was wondering if...if you would look after Emily for me.’

‘Of course I will.’ Isobel didn’t even need to think about it. She and Caro went back so far, had seen each other through so many hard times, had survived the care system together. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for Caro. ‘I’ll come and get her.’

‘Too risky. Martin has some of his goons watching me. But I gave them the slip. I think. I hope. I took Emily and I’ve left her with Jake.’

‘You’ve done what?’ Isobel could hear the increased volume, the positive screech of decibels in the last syllable and forced herself to breathe deeply. ‘Sorry. It just took me by surprise.’

‘I figured there is no way Martin would work it out. I slipped into the hotel, left Emily there. It seemed like the safest thing to do. Martin doesn’t even know that I know Jake; he does know I would turn to you. Jake has security systems and security personnel and...and, well, he’s Jake. I trust him to keep Martin away from Emily. And I trust you to take care of her.’

The desperate certainty in Caro’s voice utterly undid her and Isobel closed her eyes, reminded herself that the most important consideration here was Caro and Emily’s safety. ‘I understand. But what about you? When Martin finds out...’ Her voice trailed off. Under his seemingly sophisticated, handsome exterior Martin was a violent psychopathic bully—a replica of Isobel’s stepfather. ‘You’ll be in danger.’

‘I know, but I have a plan, somewhere I can go and stay whilst I work out what to do next. But Emily is safer away from me. Just for now. I’m going to get rid of this phone now; that way, if Martin does find me he won’t be able to track Emily down. But I’ll contact you in a few days, I promise.’

‘But...’

‘I will be OK. Please promise you’ll look after Emily. That’s what matters most.’

The plea was so heartfelt that Isobel could feel her own heart ache and she knew she had to assuage the panic and pain in Caro’s voice. ‘I promise.’

‘Thank you, Isobel. With all my heart. And thank Jake as well.’

With that, Caro disconnected. Isobel started to pace the room, tried to get her jumbled thoughts in order—fear for Caro, dread at the prospect of seeing Jake again, wonder at the thought of seeing Emily, a fierce determination to keep her promise to Caro.

Focus.

There was nothing she could do for Caro except do as her friend had asked. Look after Emily. The downside with the steepest of gradients was the fact that Jake was part of the deal. The idea of seeing him shivered her whole body with reluctance—she had no wish to come face to face with a reminder of her own stupidity.

Isobel had been a fool to trust him in the first place—should have remembered a truth learnt the hard way in childhood.

Love was an illusory emotion that rendered you weak.

Yet Jake Cartwright had woven a web of deceit so enticing, so beautiful that she had been charmed inside and for a short, magical time she’d believed that maybe, just maybe, fairy tale endings could happen. She couldn’t have been more wrong—Jake had turned out to be an untrustworthy snake, a cheat and a liar.

But right now she’d have to pull up her big girl pants and face up to the necessity of seeing Jake the snake again. For Caro’s sake.

At that moment her phone buzzed; one look at the display and the still familiar digits crashed her memory banks.

Before she could bottle it, she answered, ‘Isobel speaking.’

‘It’s Jake.’ Despite the fact it wasn’t a surprise, his voice sent her tummy into instant freefall and she rolled her eyes in irritation with herself.

‘You beat me to it. I was about to call you.’

There was a silence ‘So,’ he said eventually, ‘I didn’t see this coming.’

‘Me neither. I know it’s awkward but Emily and Caro are more important than any personal feelings.’ Oh, God—she could only hope he didn’t now think she had any personal feelings for him. Moving on... ‘Is Emily OK?’

‘She’s fine. The hotel housekeeper, a lovely lady with kids and grandchildren, is looking after her in one of our suites. There’s a security detail on the door and I’m working in here as well.’

Relief at the arrangements assailed her, forced her to acknowledge that maybe Caro had been right to know Jake would keep Emily safe from harm.

‘How’s Caro?’ he asked.

‘It’s a long story.’

‘Then I’ll wait until you get here. I can send a car to get you.’

‘No!’ Her refusal was instinctive—she had no wish to be beholden to Jake at all. ‘It will be quicker by train. I’ll leave as soon as I can.’

‘We’ll be here.’

Once she’d disconnected, she inhaled a deep breath. This was OK—she could do this. No big deal. Moving at speed she packed a bag, then quickly changed into clean blue jeans, a dark grey top and black denim jacket. Boots, a swipe of mascara and a swipe of lipstick to give her a little height and a smidge of confidence and she was good to go. As long as she ignored the swarm of butterflies that swooped and fluttered in her tummy.

Isobel zipped up her bag, took one last look at her reflection and headed for the door.

CHAPTER TWO

JAKE STARED AT his laptop and tried to focus on his work. In the end he gave up, just as his phone buzzed. Isobel.

‘I’m here. In the lobby.’

‘I’ll be right down.’

By dint of an intense effort he kept his body relaxed as he rose and walked over to Maria, who was feeding Emily. ‘Isobel is here,’ he said. ‘I’ll bring her up and then you can head home. Thank you so much for this afternoon, Maria—you have been a lifesaver. I don’t know one end of a baby from another.’ And in truth he had little interest in learning—babies were not his thing. His few encounters with them had rendered him a little bit uneasy, out of his depth.

‘It has been a pleasure. This little bambino is beautiful.’

Jake nodded and then headed to the door of the luxury penthouse suite he’d moved Maria and Emily into and entered the lift, annoyed to realise that he was... what? Nervous? Edgy? This was no big deal. Isobel had been a blip. A blip he had long since moved on from.

Two minutes later he entered the lobby and scanned the occupants, trying to ignore the accelerated beat of his heart. There she was. Dark brown hair shorter than he remembered, skimming her shoulders in a glossy sweep. Her stance was the same, graceful yet wary, poised for flight or fight.

As if sensing his gaze, she turned and emotions walloped him.

A flare of anger he’d thought long since extinguished, a visceral punch of desire, his skin sheened with heat and then plunged into goosebumps. His system in overload.

Whoa. Isobel was a blip, remember? His pride demanded he showed her there were no hard feelings—there were no feelings at all. Shouldn’t be too hard—he was his father’s son after all. Not showing feelings was a walk in the park. He knew exactly how to mould his emotions, squeeze them, constrict them into the shape he needed them to be.

But the key was control and not to let unwanted emotions blindside you. Instead you got rid of them, sloughed them away. His feelings for Isobel were long since dead and buried and he would give them no chance of resurrection. This was just an odd reaction, one that meant nothing.

He moved towards her, a smile on his lips. ‘Isobel. It’s good to see you.’

Her dark eyebrows rose. ‘It is?’

OK. If that was the way she wanted to play it, fine. ‘Of course.’ He summoned his most charming smile. ‘Unexpected but good. Why wouldn’t it be?’

Her eyes narrowed and he wondered if she would take up the challenge here and now; God knew he had no wish to replay their final showdown, but if need be he would. The way she had treated him still rankled and for an instant he relived the plummet of incredulous disbelief when she’d accused him of infidelity. The burn of hurt that she’d judged him guilty, that her trust in him was so fragile that she’d believe him capable of sleeping with someone else. That was the type of behaviour his father excelled in and for Isobel to believe he could or would behave like that had been a sucker-punch; it had seared his very soul.

He felt the smile harden on his lips as he held her gaze.

‘No reason,’ she said. ‘Or at least none worth discussing. Especially as my prime, my only concern is Emily.’

Ouch. And touché.

‘Of course. I’ll take you straight to her.’ He gestured towards the lift. ‘This way.’

He eyed the confines of the space—surely it couldn’t have shrunk in the past five minutes? Then Isobel shifted slightly and a flicker of her perfume assailed him, the jasmine scent familiar in its poignancy and a prelude to yet more memories. His senses stirred—the tickle of her hair against his skin, the taste of her lips, the sheen of her skin under his fingers, the touch of her on him.

Hell.

Clearing his throat, he strove for normalcy. Reminded himself that he’d Moved On. Capital M, capital O. This was an aberration—after all, from a purely aesthetic point of view Isobel was beautiful and, like it or not, years before the attraction between them had zinged into instant flame.

‘I put Maria and Emily in our topmost suite,’ he explained, relieved when the lift arrived at their destination.

He exited and waited as she followed him down a thickly carpeted corridor and stopped outside a door, where he nodded to the security guard posted outside. ‘Stefan, this is Isobel, Emily’s mum’s friend. She’s here to look after Emily.’

‘Pleased to meet you.’ Isobel smiled as Jake knocked on the door and then pushed it open. He stood back and watched as Isobel entered the enormous, luxuriously furnished room and halted, her gaze riveted to Emily, who was cradled in Maria’s arms. The older woman crooned a lullaby and he heard Isobel’s breath hitch in her throat as she came to a halt.

‘Maria, this is Isobel.’

Maria smiled. ‘Hello, Isobel. Your friend’s baby is very beautiful and so good. She has had a bath and some milk and we are now having a little cuddle before she goes to bed and I have told her not to worry; all will be well.’

Isobel stepped forward and smiled at Maria. ‘Thank you so much for looking after Emily—I know Caro will be very grateful. This isn’t her fault. I promise she loves Emily very much.’ She reached out and stroked Emily’s head and Jake’s heart gave a sudden strange lurch at the gentleness, the awe in her touch. ‘May I?’ she asked.

Maria beamed and rose to her feet, carefully handed Emily across and watched in approval at the ease of transfer, the evident ease of movement as Isobel balanced the baby in the crook of her arm.

‘Hey, Emily.’ Noiselessly, Jake stepped a little closer, saw the baby’s brown eyes widen as she gave a small gummy smile.

‘You know what you’re doing,’ Maria observed. ‘Do you have children?’

Now his heart lurched in a completely different way and a small exhalation of dissent or denial escaped his lips. Cue another mental slap-down—what did it matter if Isobel had found someone else, had a family?

‘No, I don’t. But my boss has a little girl and I’ve spent a lot of time with her. So I sort of have an idea.’

‘You will be fine. Your friend left detailed instructions and enough milk and nappies for another few days. I will leave the two of you to it. All you need to do is put her down in her cot and she should go straight to sleep.’

‘Thank you,’ Jake said. ‘And thank you so much for today.’

‘It was my pleasure. You are a good boy. I know you will sort it out.’ Jake hoped she was right. ‘And if I can help at all you must ask. It is no problem.’ With that she headed for the door.

Once it clicked shut behind her Isobel gazed down at Emily, who gave a small yawn, her tiny mouth forming a little oval as she waved her hands in the air. ‘Maria is right. I think she is sleepy.’ She sighed. ‘I almost want to keep her awake, give her a chance to get more used to me, but I guess that would be daft. Probably best if I get her to sleep.’ Emily yawned again and Jake nodded.

‘I thought you and Emily could sleep in here.’ He led the way to a bedroom, themed in gold and red, lush with velvets and dominated by an enormous decadent bed. A travel cot had been set up in the corner of the room.

‘Emily will feel like a princess sleeping in here. You didn’t need to put us somewhere so swish. Any room would have done.’ There was a stiffness in her voice and Jake knew why. Isobel had always had an almost irrational suspicion of his wealth, loathed the thought that anyone would think she was freeloading.

‘This suite is easier to secure—it’s harder to get access to and no other guests will see the security guard on the door.’

A small sigh but she nodded. ‘That does make sense. And on Caro’s behalf thank you for all this, Jake. It must have come as something of a shock.’

‘It’s not every day a baby is left at Reception.’ Or an old flame turns up. ‘Obviously we need to talk. Once Emily is asleep, I’ll sort out a room service dinner and we can figure out what to do next.’

Once Jake had left Isobel closed her eyes and exhaled a sigh, trying to find some kind of inner Zen. Yeah, right. That was so not happening. From the second she’d set eyes on Jake a hot surge of anger and hurt had roiled inside her, made worse by the fact that she had no choice but to feel gratitude to him for the way he was protecting Emily. It was compounded by something else, a latent spark, a frisson of something she was loath to identify.

Whatever it was, she didn’t want to feel it—didn’t want to feel anything. She’d got over Jake and she was staying over him. Her focus should and would be Emily and she smiled down at the baby.

And now her heart lurched, turned, melted—went through some sort of transformation. As if an instantaneous bond formed, so tangible she could almost see it shimmer into existence and in that moment she knew she would protect Emily with her life if need be. Dramatic perhaps, but also an absolute knowledge. ‘I won’t let you down,’ she promised. ‘Or your mum. I’ll keep you safe.’ And if that meant accepting Jake’s help, she’d do it.

Carefully cradling the sleepy baby, she approached the travel cot, laid her down and tucked the blanket round her. Gently she stroked Emily’s downy head, watched as the eyelids came down, saw the impossibly long lashes descend and her heart twisted at the baby’s complete trust in yet another new person in her life. She waited until she was sure the baby was fast asleep and then she tiptoed from the room.

Isobel braced herself and moved forward, saw Jake standing at the enormous floor-to-ceiling window that showcased a magnificent view over London.

As she watched him her heart thudded in her chest with the sudden realisation that they were alone—an event she would never have imagined in her wildest dreams. As if he sensed her presence, he turned and she gulped. Why, oh, why was he still so gorgeous? He looked—older. Well, duh. He’d filled out; the lankiness of youth had bulked into a body that seemed to be all lithe compact muscle. His blond hair was shorter than it had been, cut close to his head. Grey-blue eyes, rainy day sky with a hint of sun held nothing she could interpret. Her eyes dropped and snagged on the firmness of his mouth and she took a step backwards.

Enough.

Jake might be gorgeous but his handsome exterior was a shallow meaningless shell that housed the soul of the man who had betrayed her.

His lips turned up in a smile but his eyes were wary. ‘Is Emily OK?’

‘Fast asleep.’ She kept the reply short now as he gestured to the table.

‘The menu’s there.’ He gestured to the sleek glass coffee table edged with mahogany.

‘Thank you.’ She could hardly refuse to eat with him; after all, they were jointly responsible for Emily and they had to come up with a plan of action—one that minimised the need for contact. He could set up the security and she’d provide the hands-on care. Simple. She perused the menu and her stomach gave a low grumble of anticipation. ‘This is incredible,’ she said, professional appreciation overcoming personal antagonism.

‘Thank you. It’s a new menu—I’ve just taken on a new chef and she’s brilliant, if I say so myself. The sample menu she cooked for me was sublime.’

She could well believe it as she chewed her lip and deliberated the choices, eventually deciding. ‘I’ll have the wild turbot, please.’ Casting a sideways glance at him, she asked, ‘What are you going to have?’

‘The lamb.’

‘I nearly went for that. Because of the cocoa beans.’

‘We could always go halv—’ He broke off and frowned.

A frown she knew she mirrored. Because that was exactly what they’d used to do—pick different dishes and share them. She gave her head a small shake, shocked at how easily they’d fallen into an old habit. Enough. There was a need to be civil—Jake was after all providing Emily with a sanctuary—but there was no need to be friendly. The grim set of his lips implied that this was a conclusion Jake had also come to.

‘I’ll order,’ he said brusquely.

As he did so she walked to the window, marvelled again at the immensity of the glass and the panoramic vista. She turned and studied the surroundings properly, the cool grey walls, the simple yet flowing original artwork—a swoop of charcoal lines that depicted the flight of a flock of birds—the bold fun floral coverings on the sofa and armchairs, the decadent red of the velvet curtains and the eclectic scatter of designer lamps and statues of famous literary personages who had stayed at the hotel over the years, this history echoed by the original cornicing and panelling.

The stunning blend of old and new, the immense proportions were all a reminder of Jake’s wealth and status and Isobel felt the old familiar sense steal over her—the same uncomfortable knowledge she’d had as a child—that she was a misfit. The one with fear in her eyes and bruises on her arms, then the ‘foster kid’ and eventually the ultimate reject, consigned to a care home because no one else would have her.

But now it no longer mattered—Isobel had built her own life, a world where she did fit. Jake’s wealth and status were irrelevant and she would not be intimidated by them.

‘Would you like a drink?’ he asked.

‘A soft drink would be great.’

‘Elderflower cordial?’

‘Perfect. Thank you.’ The words emerged both stilted and wary as they eyed each other.

He handed her a glass and sat down opposite her. ‘I’d like to know what is going on,’ he said. ‘Caro said you’d explain. I assume you and she came up with this plan together. But what I don’t understand is why you didn’t tell me first. There was no need for Caro to simply dump Emily at Reception and leave.’

There was definite anger in his voice and Isobel could see his point. ‘I didn’t know Caro was going to do that. I didn’t know anything about this plan until a few hours ago. I didn’t even know Caro had a baby until a few hours ago.’

‘Excuse me?’ Jake stared at her and inhaled deeply. ‘I’m not getting any of this.’

‘What did Caro tell you?’

He reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. ‘See for yourself.’

Isobel accepted the letter, perused it and tried to put herself in her friend’s shoes. ‘I think Caro had to come up with a plan fast and she came up with this. She may have been worried that you wouldn’t agree to have Emily, she may have decided it was too dangerous to try to contact you first... I don’t know. I haven’t seen or spoken to Caro in three years.’

His eyebrows rose in surprise. ‘But you and Caro were like family.’

‘We were,’ Isobel said softly and now sadness and guilt intermeshed inside her. ‘But then she met Martin. And everything changed. At first he seemed perfect for Caro, appeared to worship the ground she walked on. But then, slowly, he started to change.’ The change had been so gradual, so insidious that Isobel had told herself she was being paranoid. ‘He became more possessive, started to control what Caro wore, started to put her down. Then he persuaded her to quit her job so he could look after her. Isolated her. Then one day he hit her.’

Jake flinched and his eyes hardened. ‘Go on,’ he said.

‘Caro forgave him, said she knew he wouldn’t do it again, that he was under a lot of stress at work and she’d provoked him. That he was truly sorry.’ Isobel twisted her hands together, remembered her own clutch of fear as Caro had spoken. ‘I told her to leave him, told her that this was the start. But all I did was antagonise her. And him. The violence got worse but she wouldn’t leave him. Soon she was making excuses not to meet me. Then she told me she couldn’t see me any more.’

The scene replayed in her mind, Caro’s soft voice. ‘I can’t leave Martin—he’d never let me go. And I need him. I love him and he does love me. I know he is sorry whenever he hurts me. He and I will work it out, but he’s right. It’s better if it’s just the two of us.’ The fervency in her voice, the desperate need to believe tore Isobel’s heart. Her mother had said the same.

‘I can’t leave...’

‘Simon loves me...’

‘He’s going to change this time...’

‘I know he’s sorry...’

She’d wanted to weep, to pound her fists against the walls, to do something—anything to save her friend. But she hadn’t been able to, just as she hadn’t been able to save her mother. The taste of another failure, the realisation that she’d let someone else down was bitter in her mouth.

Now she looked at Jake. ‘I haven’t seen or heard from her since. I tried. Texted, called, wrote... Maybe I should have tried harder.’

‘There was nothing you could do. If someone doesn’t want to see you, they don’t want to see you. You can’t force them to.’ Isobel glanced at him, heard the harsh note of experience in his voice and wondered at it. He rose and started to pace the room, a frown grooved on his forehead, his lips set in a grim line. ‘This changes things.’

‘Why?’ Foreboding touched Isobel.

‘What you have told me, what Caro has gone through appals me. Truly. And if I can do anything to help her I will. But right now Emily is my priority. I haven’t set eyes on Caro for over six years and you haven’t spoken to her in three. How do you know she is going to come back?’