Postcards From New York: A Child Claimed by Gold / A Debt Paid in the Marriage Bed / A Dangerously Sexy Secret

‘You look...’ he said softly as he stood and fastened his cufflinks, the movement showing off his wrists and designer watch. His dark eyes were full of controlled anger as he sought the words he was looking for.

‘Very different.’ She didn’t want to hear what he thought and finished the sentence for him. All she wanted was to get his charade over with. She hated the pretence of it all.

He stepped a little closer, dropping his arms by his side, making the cloth of the tuxedo cling even more provocatively to him. ‘I was going to say very beautiful.’

‘I’m not so sure about that.’ She blushed beneath his scrutiny and clutched her bag ever tighter.

She was about to walk past him when he caught her arm, the look in his eyes heavy with desire; as much as she wanted to look away, to avoid the way her body sizzled with pleasure, she boldly met his gaze. She stood there, locked in time, waiting for him to say something. He didn’t and finally he let go of her, the connection gone, snuffed out like a candle, leaving a lingering scent in the air.

‘We should go. My mother will be expecting us.’ He turned away from her, as if he’d made a mistake even touching her, and she wasn’t sure what worried her the most: the thought of meeting his mother and stepfather or that he couldn’t bear to look at her.

‘I’m looking forward to meeting her,’ she said as she fiddled with her bag, anything other than witness his obvious discomfort at being around her.

‘There is one thing I need to ask from you.’ He stopped at the door of the apartment and looked down at her. ‘My mother knows nothing of the baby and I’d like to keep it that way. For now, at least.’

He was ashamed of her, ashamed of the child she carried. That hurt her more than anything, but it also showcased the fact that this marriage was nothing more than a deal and she must never fall into the trap of thinking it was anything else.

She frowned and tried to smile, but she couldn’t help but ask, ‘Why?’

‘She believes I am in love. We are in love. I want to keep it that way. I want her to believe we are marrying simply because we fell in love.’ Each time he said the word ‘love’, his voice became harsher, as if he couldn’t bear even naming such an emotion.

So he was ashamed he was to be a father. Was that why he wanted to get married as soon as possible—so that he could make it look like something they’d planned or at least wanted?

She shrugged, trying to hide her hurt at what he’d just said. ‘If that’s what you want.’

* * *

Nikolai watched as his mother hugged Emma, then held her hands and stood back to look at her, as if shocked that he’d finally brought a woman home to meet her. His gaze lingered a little too long on Emma’s glorious body, encased in a gown which caressed her figure in a way that evoked memories of kissing her all over before making her his—truly his.

‘I am so pleased to meet you.’ His mother’s words dragged his mind back from the erotic path they had taken, forcing him to concentrate on the present. ‘I never really believed I’d see this day; and such a gorgeous ring.’

‘A gorgeous ring for a very beautiful woman.’ Nikolai spoke his thoughts aloud before he had time to evaluate them, but when Emma blushed and his mother smiled he knew they had been exactly what was needed.

‘You must of course stay here tonight,’ his mother offered Emma, just as she had done with him earlier in the week, but he’d refused, claiming a need to work the next day.

‘Emma and I will be travelling back tonight,’ he said sternly and felt Emma’s gaze on him. Was she pleading with him to extricate them both from the invitation?

‘I won’t hear of it. How can you enjoy your engagement party if you have to travel back tonight? Besides, I’ve already had a room prepared, so there is no excuse.’

‘I need to be at the office first thing in the morning.’ Nikolai knew his voice sounded abrupt and, if the curious glance Emma cast his way was anything to go by, his mother would know he was making excuses.

‘Nonsense. You work far too hard, and besides, it’s the weekend and you should be spending it with your fiancée. Isn’t that right, Emma?’ His mother smiled at him, using her charm and tactics as she always did to get what she wanted, but he didn’t want Emma pushed into a situation that she clearly didn’t want. Also, staying here at his mother’s house in The Hamptons would almost certainly mean sharing not only a room with Emma, but a bed. The fact that his mother had made a room ready suggested she’d already planned it all out.

‘I don’t have anything with me, Mrs Cunningham.’ Emma’s soft voice caught him unawares, as did the way it sent a tingle of awareness down his spine. He looked at her, at the worried expression on her face, and something twisted inside him, as if his heart was being squeezed.

He couldn’t be falling for her. He didn’t want that kind of complication, especially when she was here to celebrate their engagement only because he’d made a deal which would secure not only her baby’s future but her sister’s. A deal she’d been more than happy to agree on once he’d made her see that refusal would leave her child without a father. Something he knew she was all too familiar with.

‘Well, if that’s the only reason, I can soon sort that out. My stepdaughter is here with her husband and between us both we can loan you anything you need.’

Nikolai’s control on the situation was slipping through his fingers and he was torn between saving Emma from being forced to spend a night in the same room as him and allowing his mother to continue with the illusion that he’d finally succumbed to love.

‘I couldn’t do that...’ Emma began, but before she could finish he spoke over her.

‘Then we shall stay.’ He pulled Emma against him, the fine fabric of her dress no barrier to the heat from her body as it seared through his suit, setting him alight with a desire he had no intention of acting on. Diversion was what he needed. ‘We should mingle.’

At the extravagantly laid tables all around them were friends and members of his family, or rather his step-family. Everyone was enjoying themselves and their laughter mixed with the music from the live performers. He and Emma were the centre of attention, and that was something he hadn’t thought of when he’d put the party planners in touch with his mother and let them loose together. A big mistake.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said as he took Emma’s hand and led her to a table where they could sit and try and keep out of the limelight, for a while at least.

‘For what?’ She sat elegantly beside him and again that strange sensation washed over him.

‘There isn’t anyone here you know.’

‘That’s okay,’ she answered as she looked around the marquee, hardly recognisable beneath its lavish decorations. ‘It’s not as if it’s a real engagement.’

‘It’s very real, Emma.’ Anger surfaced, smothering the simmering desire which brewed deep inside him. She turned in her seat to give him her full attention and all he could do was look at her lips, red with lipstick, and imagine kissing them until she sighed with pleasure. He couldn’t let her do this to him. He had to get back his control and fast. ‘We are engaged and will be married by the end of the month.’

‘But it’s not for real, Nikolai, despite what you want your mother to believe. None of it is real—and I can’t do this again.’ A look of fear flitted across her face and he frowned in confusion.

‘Do what?’ He took her hands from her lap, where she’d clutched them tightly together. She looked at him, directly into his eyes, and he saw the anguish in hers.

‘Be paraded around like this. When we get married, I want it to be with as little fuss as possible. I don’t want to be the subject of everyone’s scrutiny.’ Her green eyes pleaded with him and the slight waver in her voice unsettled him. Was she having second thoughts about their deal?

‘That suits me perfectly.’ He snapped the words out and let her hands go, angered by the thought that she was at this very moment looking for a way out of their planned marriage—and the deal.

* * *

Emma didn’t want the party to end. It was so lavish she could hardly have dreamed it up if she’d tried, and if she and Nikolai had truly been in love it would have been the perfect start to their life together. But they weren’t in love. Nikolai’s stern words as they’d sat talking at the beginning of the evening had been more than enough proof for her.

‘Emma, Nikolai.’ His mother came up to them, excitement all over her face. ‘It’s time for the finale, and I want you to be in the prime spot when it happens. Come with me.’

‘What have you done now?’ Nikolai’s deep voice demanded of his mother, but she wasn’t listening, and she headed off through the crowds, leaving them no choice but to follow her out and across the lawns. Emma could hear the water in the darkness which surrounded the extensive garden, now lit up with hundreds of lights, and it was a relief to be away from the many people who had attended the party, none of whom she knew.

‘I have no idea what this is about,’ Nikolai said sternly, his irritation at such a public display of them as a newly engaged couple all too obvious.

‘We should at least see,’ she said to Nikolai, unable to supress a smile. How nice it must be to have a mother who would arrange surprises for you; it was exactly the kind of mother she wanted to be herself.

Nikolai didn’t say anything, but took her hand and made his way to where his mother was talking to a group of people. His annoyance at the arrangement was very clear.

‘Stand here, with the party as a backdrop. I want an engagement photo of you both.’ The excitement in his mother’s voice was contagious and Emma couldn’t help but laugh softly. Nikolai didn’t share her appreciation and wasn’t in the least amused by it.

‘That’s not necessary.’ Nikolai’s brusque tone didn’t make a dent on his mother’s enthusiasm.

At that point Emma realised this wasn’t just a snapshot for a family album, as a party photographer joined them and set about making them stand just where he wanted them to. Instantly she was uncomfortable. She hated being on what she considered the wrong side of the lens.

‘Now, embrace each other,’ the photographer said as he stepped back and started clicking, his assistants altering lights to get the best result. ‘Kiss each other.’

Kiss.

Emma looked at Nikolai and wondered just what he was going to say about being forced to kiss her. The same kind of boldness which had come over her in Vladimir rushed through her again.

‘We’d better do as we’re told,’ she whispered with a smile on her lips, amused at his hard expression. He wasn’t doing a very good job of acting the part of a man in love, which was what he’d wanted his mother to think he was. ‘We’re in love, remember?’

His eyes darkened until they were so black and full of desire that she caught her breath as anticipation rushed through her. Her heart thumped harder and she was sure he’d see the pulse at her throat, but his gaze didn’t waver. He pulled her closer against him and she could feel his thighs touch hers, his chest press against her breasts.

He moved slowly but with intent purpose until his lips met hers and, acting on instinct, her eyes closed and her body melted into his. His arms held her tighter still and she wrapped hers around his neck as he deepened the kiss. She didn’t want to respond, didn’t want to acknowledge the power of the passion racing through her, but she couldn’t help herself. She opened her lips and tasted his with her tongue as fireworks seemed to explode around them.

‘Perfect,’ the photographer directed. ‘Keep kissing her.’

Nikolai’s hand slid down to the small of her back, pressing her against him, and the fire of desire raged through her. If she didn’t stop him now she’d be in danger of giving herself away, of allowing him to see just what he did to her.

She let her arms fall from his neck and pushed against his chest, wanting to continue, yet not wanting him to know that just a kiss could make her his again. ‘That’s pretty powerful acting,’ she said, alarmed at how husky her voice sounded.

A large bang sounded behind them and, startled, she looked towards the party. Fireworks filled the night sky behind the marquee and relief washed over her. She thought she had heard fireworks as he’d kissed her, ones created by this man’s kiss. The relief at discovering that they had been real made her laugh and, still in Nikolai’s embrace, she looked up at him.

‘The same can be said of you.’ Desire filled his voice as he responded.

Nikolai let her go as his mother walked towards them, a big smile on her face. ‘That was perfect. I will see you both in the morning.’

Emma watched her leave, an ultra-glamorous woman who believed her son had found the love of his life. What would she say if she knew the truth, and why was it so important to Nikolai that she thought that? Questions burned in her mind.

‘Shall we return to the party or retire to bed?’ The question shocked her and she didn’t know which was more preferable. She didn’t want to continue to be the centre of speculation but neither did she want to go to their room.

‘Perhaps we should just go back to your apartment.’ The suggestion came from her before she had time to think.

‘I can see that my presence in your room is not going to be welcome, but I can assure you, nothing will happen. The pretence of being in love can be dropped once we close the bedroom door.’

‘In that case, we should retire,’ she said, trying to keep the despondency from her voice. He didn’t want her, didn’t find her attractive. The kiss of moments ago had been just an act. Pretence at attraction and love, purely to keep his mother happy.

* * *

Nikolai saw the expression of horror cross Emma’s face, and wished he’d been firmer with his mother, but she’d looked so happy he just couldn’t destroy that for her. This whole sham of an engagement was to make his mother happy and now he was guilty of making Emma unhappy. Strangely, that was worse, but it was too late to back out now. They would spend the night in this room and leave as soon as they could in the morning.

Emma crossed the room to the only bed and looked at the items his mother had instructed to be left for them. She held up a cream silk nightdress which would do little to conceal her figure and he closed his eyes against the image of her in it—and, worse, next to him in that very bed.

‘It appears your mother has thought of everything,’ she said as she looked up at him. ‘It’s almost as if she was planning on us having to stay.’

Emma had just echoed his own thoughts, but he brushed them away in an attempt to put her at ease. ‘Whatever it was my mother had planned, she believes we are in love and, as I said earlier, I want to keep it that way. I also promised that nothing would happen between us, so I will sleep in the chair.’

He gestured to an easy chair which would be perfect for relaxing in during the day, but not so great to sleep in for a night. She looked from him to the chair and sighed, as if in resignation.

‘I hardly think that will be conducive to a good night’s sleep.’ He was about to argue the point when a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. ‘We’ll just have to manage together in the bed. We are, after all, both adults and have agreed that nothing is going to happen.’

He might have agreed, but he seriously doubted if he could carry through that promise. She stood before him now in the dress which shimmered in the lights of the room, and he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted any woman.

Maybe one more night in her arms would be enough to suppress the desire-laden thoughts he constantly had about her? That question sent a rush of lust sparking around him, but as he looked at her worried expression he knew it couldn’t happen. Not after he’d been the one to set the time limit—just one night in Vladimir.

‘In that case, I suggest we get some sleep.’ He pulled off his tie and tossed it onto the chair he’d planned to sleep in, determined to prove to himself he was able to exercise firm control where this woman was concerned. Emma didn’t move. ‘Is there a problem?’

‘Can you unzip me?’

She blushed and looked more beautiful and innocent than she’d ever done, but there was a hint of humour in her voice. Did she know just how much she was torturing him?

‘I had help this afternoon, but I don’t have a stylist to hand at present. Thanks for arranging all that; it was very thoughtful.’

He walked towards her, wondering if he trusted himself to be so close to her, undoing the dress he’d wanted to remove from her sexy body all night. She was testing him, pushing him to the limits of his endurance, whether she knew it or not.

‘I wanted you to look the part,’ he said, then added more gently as her perfume weaved around him, drawing him ever closer like a ship lured to the rocks by a raging storm, ‘And you looked beautiful—so very beautiful.’

‘I felt beautiful,’ she whispered, as if letting him hear her thoughts. ‘It was a fairy-tale night.’

‘My mother believes in that fairy tale, at least,’ he said firmly, desperate to remind himself why he was even here like this with her. ‘You played your part well.’

She looked up at him as he stood in front of her, boldly locking her gaze with his in a fleeting gesture of defiance before lowering her lashes and looking away. She turned her back to him and lifted up her hair, which hung in a glossy veil down her back, exposing the silky, smooth skin he remembered from their night together.

His hand lingered on the zip. He couldn’t let go, couldn’t step away from the temptation she was creating. He could see her spine and curled his fingers tight against the need to trail them up it and then all the way down. He wanted to kiss her back, to take every last piece of clothing from her sexy body and kiss her everywhere, before claiming her as his once more.

He bit down on a powerful rush of desire which surged through him. Not only had she made it clear she didn’t want him, he didn’t want the complications of sex becoming something more. He had to ignore the lust which was rapidly engulfing him, if only to prove to himself he didn’t want her, didn’t feel anything for her.

He reached out and gently pulled the zip downwards, inwardly groaning as her back became visible. The heat of passion was rushing straight to his groin. If this was any other woman, or any other moment in time, he would be kissing that wonderfully bare back and sliding the dress from her, exposing her near nakedness to his hungry gaze. But this wasn’t any other woman. This was the woman who was to become his wife and everything was so very complicated.

‘Thank you.’ She stepped away from him and he clenched his fingers tightly to prevent himself from doing anything else.

Passion pounded in his body, begging for release as she turned to face him. Her hardened nipples were clearly visible through the fine material and he wondered how he’d never noticed until now she was braless. The thought shifted the demanding desire inside him up several notches, ever closer to breaking point.

The air hummed with heavy desire as she picked up the nightdress his mother had magically found from somewhere and walked into the adjoining bathroom and closed the door. For a moment, relief washed over him until he realised that when she returned she’d be wearing even less. The cream nightdress would offer even less protection from him.

With an angry growl he took off his jacket and slung it over the back of the chair. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d never been a slave to desire. He was always in control. Except with this woman.

As the bathroom door opened he crossed the room, not daring to look at her, not wanting to see her wearing the silky nightdress which would reveal far more of her body than he could tolerate. He kept his back to her as he heard the bedcovers being moved and then headed for the bathroom. Once inside, he shut the door firmly and turned on the shower, selecting the coldest setting.

When he returned to the bedroom, invigorated from the icy cold jets of water, Emma was lying in the bed, as far to one edge of it as was possible, and either asleep or pretending to be. Wearing only his underwear, he slid beneath the cool covers, turned off the light and lay on his back, looking up at the ceiling through the darkness. Anger boiled up in him, thankfully dimming the throb of desire, allowing his usual stern control to return.

Emma sighed softly next to him and turned over, moving closer to him. He lay rigid in the bed as her breathing settled into the soft rhythm of sleep again. He could feel the warmth of her body, and in his mind all he could see was her naked in his bed in Vladimir. Nothing had changed. He couldn’t relax. Damn it, he’d never sleep.

He closed his eyes, willing his body to relax, and, just when he thought he might achieve that elusive state, Emma stirred and moved again. Closer to him. Far too close. She put her arm across his chest and pulled herself closer, pressing her body against the side of his, and instantly his body was ready for her. He clenched his jaw tightly, fighting the throb of desire and the urge to turn to her, to wrap her in his arms and kiss her awake before making her his once more.

A feral curse slipped from his lips as she sighed once more, pressing herself tighter against him so that he could feel the swell of her breast against his arm. He couldn’t move. He didn’t trust himself to. He had to prove he was stronger than the desire he had for her, something he’d never had a problem with before.

How could he want her so much? What had she done to him? Questions raced through his mind and he focused on them instead of the heady warmth of Emma’s sleeping body next to his.

Never in his life had he spent a night with a woman without having sex. How had it come to this? He tried again to sleep, to ignore the heat of her body, and it was more than torture as he lay rigid next to the one woman who threatened everything, from his sanity to his family. How the hell could he want her so badly?

CHAPTER EIGHT

EMMA BLUSHED AGAIN as memories from the few hours they’d spent in bed together came rushing back to her. She still couldn’t believe that she’d been wrapped around Nikolai when she’d woken. She’d opened her eyes as spring sunshine had streamed into the unfamiliar room, wondering at first where she was. Then she’d realised they were entwined, as if they were lovers. Slowly she’d moved away from Nikolai as he slept, taking the chance to steal a glance at his handsome features before slipping away to put on a dress left for her last night.

Had anything happened? Had she embarrassed herself by saying or doing something stupid in a sleepy state? She hoped she hadn’t let her growing feelings for him show—especially as he’d been adamant that nothing would happen between them. So many questions had raced around her mind as they’d left the beautiful house and started the drive back to his apartment in New York. A tense silence had enveloped them in the car and she hadn’t been about to break it, especially not by asking about last night.

Now they were back in his apartment and she was lying in her bed alone, replaying the events of the party. The kiss for their engagement photo had been so powerful, so very evocative, she’d thought it was real, but then he’d pulled away from her, the hardness of his eyes warning her against such thoughts. But it was when he’d helped her out of her dress that things really had changed. She’d seen raw desire in his eyes as he’d looked at her, and when he’d touched her she’d clamped her mouth tightly closed, worried she might say something and give herself away—because she’d wanted him to touch her.

She should be grateful he hadn’t said a word about the previous night other than to make small talk about the party itself, but she wasn’t. It didn’t feel right, ignoring whatever it was that sizzled between them. With a huff of irritation, she flung back the covers. There was no way she could sleep now. Her mind was alive with questions and her body still yearned for a man who didn’t want her.