The Blackmailed Bride's Secret Child / For Business...Or Marriage?: The Blackmailed Bride's Secret Child / For Business...Or Marriage?

Before she could protest, he led her to the large doors and over the threshold, into the edge of the crowd. He was all confidence and composure while she struggled to catch up with the abrupt change of both mood and scenery. One moment she’d been kissed senseless by Lucifer himself, the next she was again in the middle of her husband’s wake.

He grabbed two glasses of Trio from a passing waiter and handed one to her, letting his fingers linger on hers a second too long. “As I said, one drink then we’re leaving—feel free to mingle while you have it. I’ll be back for you. Soon.”

The heat in his eyes as he turned and walked away was unmistakable. He intended to seduce her, to make love to her, tonight. Her skin quivered and tightened, her belly felt heavy with desire still simmering from his kiss on the terrace moments ago.

Although, she corrected herself, lovemaking wasn’t a part of his plans. He had sexual plans for her, yes, but they’d be fuelled by lust and passion alone. Not love.

And, shockingly, even knowing that was no protection. Fighting her attraction for Nico was as futile as it had ever been.

But … what if she gave in? Stopped fighting the inevitable? If she went to his bed, it would all be over by tomorrow. He’d leave never knowing the truth about Marco, about the blackmail … and she’d have one more memory of him to cherish.

Yes, her body whispered. Do it.

Under her clothes, her naked skin felt the caress of the soft fabric of her gown; the tips of her sensitized breasts strained against the bra cupping them. Every step she took, every movement, became part of a sensual dance.

She spoke to several winery and vineyard workers, sipping her wine as she mingled. Then called Andrew the acting winemaker over. “I’m so sorry, but I have a headache—it feels like a migraine coming on. I need to go home.”

His face was a picture of concern, causing a ball of guilt to form in her stomach. “Of course—it’s too soon. I can’t imagine how you’re feeling. As I’ve said before, anything we can do for you, let me know.”

“Thank you, you’re too kind.” Her voice cracked with the force of her desire—she could feel Nico behind her, waiting. Fortunately, people would assume it was raw grief. No one could see what she was thinking, what she was about to do.…

“May I call a taxi for you?”

She offered a small smile of thanks. “No need. My brother-in-law is here, I’ll ask him to take me home. Please tell the other guests I wasn’t feeling well?”

“Certainly.”

She walked back to Nico and looked him calmly in the eye, determined not to give away how fast her heart pounded, not to anyone in the room—including him. “I’m ready to go.”

He raised an eyebrow, surprised. His eyes searched her face again, and she felt the heat flash right through her. She knew what she wanted, and he knew she wasn’t fighting it anymore.

Finally, he nodded. “Good.” He took her hand and tucked it into his elbow, marking her as his—if only for tonight—as he walked her from the memorial of her husband.

Taking her to his bed.

Four

As Nico guided her through the hotel-room door and took her coat, Beth caught sight of the interior and hesitated.

Every surface was filled with flickering candles, enough to light the expansive room with a soft glow. Vases of out-of-season honeysuckle scented the air with their perfume, and—

And it was obvious he’d planned the whole thing. Had planned it before he’d picked her up for the evening. Before she’d agreed to come here.

Panic clawed at her chest. What was she doing here? She wanted him to make love to her, but she wanted it to be making love. This had nothing to do with love. It was unfinished business to him. Perhaps even some kind of challenge to lure her back to his bed.

The man who’d seemed reflective—emotionally exposed—for a few minutes on the winery’s terrace was long gone. Maybe she’d imagined him. This Nico was the one who’d knocked on her door this morning, the man with a heart of granite and eyes alive with sin. She was out of her depth, playing games with the devil.

The tension of this moment, this night, this entire day, threatened to overwhelm her, but she couldn’t let it. Praying some vestige of the Nico she’d loved still existed inside—the man who would have moved mountains to save her from pain—she turned.

She faced him with what she hoped looked like resolve, when it was anything but. “I’ve changed my mind.”

He prowled toward her, his eyes glittering. “Are you asking me to believe you could walk away from this?”

He cupped her face and when she met his heated gaze the lines blurred, past and present and loss and need blending until even she didn’t know if this would be heaven or hell—all she knew was it was inevitable.

He lowered his mouth to hers and she parted her lips without thought. His tongue plunged inside as he gripped her upper arms and she fell into the kiss, fell into him.

She’d been starving for him these long years, and now his mouth was on hers, she wanted more, needed it all. It was more than a kiss. It was coming home.

His arms crushed her into his solidness, held her tight, but not close enough, so she pulled at his bow tie, opened buttons and slid her hands across his scorching skin.

He groaned and shuddered, but didn’t break the kiss. How had she lived without this? Apart from the joy of motherhood, she’d been a dead woman walking since she’d last lain with him.

Pushing the sides of his shirt apart, she touched as much of him as she could, relearning his body, discovering new planes and angles. His biceps were larger than they’d been, and she scraped her nails along their firm bulk, needing to know his changes. His abdomen felt as flat and hard as it’d always been, his skin as warm as she had remembered.

He pulled away, breathing ragged, eyes closed as if regaining control. Then he dispensed with his shirt and dangling bow tie in one motion. Her breath hitched. He’d always been magnificent, but now he was beyond even that. A Roman god far from home; a sculpture by an Italian master come to life.

There was a smattering of chest hair on his golden-brown skin where once he’d been smooth. She reached to feel, tentative at first, but then more boldly—there had been more changes but this was still the chest she knew. The one she’d loved so many times in her bed, in his, in the open air of the vineyard, in the barrel rooms of the winery late at night … wherever they’d found moments of privacy when their passion rose to undeniable heights.

She stroked across his pectorals, hungry for as much skin as she could touch, then lower, trailing her fingertips along the ridges of his abdomen.

“Your fingers have magic in them.” His voice was rough, strained.

Lips like velvet skimmed hers, the darkly alluring taste of him engulfed her. His kiss was beyond the physical; it bordered a mystical experience, and she was powerless to do more than be swept along with its intensity.

Without breaking the connection, he unzipped her dress and the peach fabric slid to the floor, pooling at her feet. Then he wrenched his mouth away, captured her hands. “Just give me a moment to see you.”

She arched her body, trying to make contact with his heat, his solidness … just him. Even touching his naked chest was more than she thought she’d be granted again in this life and the thought of it all being almost within her reach made her a little dizzy.

“Nico,” she moaned, “touch me. Don’t stop touching me.”

With one hand, he unhooked her apricot lace bra and threw it behind him to land on the couch. He filled his hands with her breasts, cupping gently, rubbing his thumbs across their undersides. “Exquisite,” he rasped. “Every square inch of you is utterly exquisite.”

Then he knelt, and slowly—agonizingly slowly—he pulled down her panties. She leaned forward and ploughed her hands into his hair as he continued the measured descent of her last remaining piece of clothing. When he reached the floor, she lifted one high-heeled foot, then the other so she could step out of the panties, before he threw them to join her bra.

She was naked but for her three-inch silver heels and she reached for them to complete the task.

He stopped her hand. “No. They stay.”

Past caring about shoes, she reached for his belt, but again his hand denied her. “Nico, let me—”

“We need to slow down,” he said, his voice husky with want. “I’ve thought about this—wanted this—for so long, I don’t want the experience to disappear in a blur of frenzied need.”

She blinked. He was right. This would be their only night together—she couldn’t afford to waste it.

She sucked in a long breath to steady her voice. “All right. We savor this.”

A wolfish smile on his face, he picked her up and carried her to his bed, before carefully laying her on the satin quilt. He remained leaning over her for long moments, resting on fists on either side of her, his eyes holding a remnant of the tenderness he used to show her without disguise, and her heart caught in her throat.

Then it was gone, and, as he climbed onto the bed and positioned himself over her—but still not touching, the only emotion in his eyes was raw lust. The strength of that desire for her melted her inside and out. She quivered and clutched at his back, trying to bring him down to her. She’d been ready for him since she’d first opened the door to find him on her porch twelve hours ago. She’d been aching with arousal since he’d picked her up for the launch only four hours ago. And she’d been in an almost mindless haze of need since his kiss on the winery’s terrace. Now she was well past ready to take him into her body, needed it more than all else.

“Now,” she breathed. Her nails dug into his buttocks through his trousers, trying to draw him closer.

He didn’t relent, even an inch. “You agreed. We slow it down.” She pushed harder on his buttocks, not caring what she’d agreed to. He grabbed both her wrists, raised them above her head and secured them with one large palm, half his mouth twisted into a grin. “I won’t be able to savor for long if you keep doing that.”

His mouth dipped to hers, his tongue sliding between her lips with the confidence of a man assured of his welcome. Without her hands, the only greeting she could give was with her mouth, and by arching her hips up to meet his, still held above her like a burning magnet.

He groaned as her pelvis brushed his arousal, and he followed her as she sank back into the bed, grinding himself against her, releasing her hands to stroke down the side of her body.

The feel of his weight on her almost brought her to the edge. “Nico,” she breathed. “God, Nico.”

He leaned in, his free hand cupping her breast as he captured its peak between his teeth and tugging gently. The pulse at her core throbbed in the rhythm of his mouth; her body writhed beneath him of its own volition. Her mind was lost, her sanity possibly lost with it, and she couldn’t bring herself to care. All that mattered—all that existed—was Nico.

His hand left her breast and traced a lazy trail down her ribs, across her abdomen, the coarse pads of his fingers generating exquisite sensations. She quivered with the desire that was alive in her belly, between her legs, longing to take him, to be taken.

His hand came to rest at the juncture of her thighs, dipping to glide across the spot that ached for him more than any other. A sound ridiculously like a whimper escaped her mouth, so she bit down on her bottom lip to contain further outbursts.

Nico’s mouth moved across to her other breast just as one finger slid inside her, then a second, his thumb still caressing the point above them. He was assailing her from every front, overwhelming her with sensation.

Beth bunched the quilt in her fists, wanting more. The sensations he was producing weren’t enough, but so much she was about to combust.

Breathing choppy, she reached to touch his chest, his arm, whatever she could connect with. She was dissolving, vanishing in a cloud of desire, rational thought had fled, only need for Nico remained.

She moaned, tossing her head from side to side, unable to stand another second. “Nico, please,” she gasped.

Victory gleamed in his dark chocolate eyes for a split second before he lowered his mouth to the center of her desire and took her over the edge with his tongue. She exploded in wave after wave of tormenting pleasure, climbing higher still, to a place so blindingly high, nothing else existed. And through it all, she felt Nico’s arms around her, knew she was safe, knew she was in the one place she belonged more than any other.

When she floated down slowly from far above the ground, sweet ripples still coursed through her body. Nico held her while she was limp and breathless until, awareness returning, she nuzzled into him. Then he discarded his trousers, rolled a condom down his length and with one, smooth, powerful motion, he was inside her. Air hissed through his clenched teeth and his eyes drifted closed. In the moment of stillness, she reveled in the feel of him filling her, joining with her, making love to her again.

Then he withdrew and, desperate, she couldn’t restrain an incoherent cry of protest.

He lifted one of her knees, then gripped her foot still wearing the three-inch heel, and pressed a hot, wet kiss to the inside of her ankle. He lifted her leg to rest over his shoulder. Her body trembled at the eroticism of the move, but her heart beat powerfully for the man who looked deep into her eyes. They shared a connection, it’d always been unmistakable, but after this, surely neither of them would ever be able to deny it again. They fit together—belonged together.

He slid again into her slick hot depths, supporting himself on the strength of his arms, her leg over his shoulder moving in his rhythm, and within seconds she lost herself in his strokes. Her nails dug into the taut muscles of his back and he dipped his head to kiss her, their heated breaths mingling into one.

She was already so close to the peak again that for a moment, she tried to hang on, to make this last as long as she could. if this was all he offered her, this one night, then she wanted to squeeze every last drop of beautiful pleasure—every moment of this intimate contact with her Nico.…

But his sensual invasion continued, took her higher, and his hand slid between them, to where their bodies joined, and with a skilled flick of his thumb her body imploded in sparkling glory, melding, merging with him, with the universe.

Within moments, Nico followed, then lay beside her, gasping for air.

“I don’t think I can move,” she whispered. Boneless, she didn’t think she’d ever be able to move again.

His eyebrow arched. “You’d better recoup quickly,bella, because you’ll be telling me you want me again very soon. All night long, in fact.”

And when he reached for her, she surprised herself by moving to meet him, her recovery complete already.

Tomorrow she’d analyze how this night changed things between them, but here and now was for one thing only, and she met his kiss, his hands, willingly, ready for whatever he had planned.

Five

Nico woke slowly, wrapped around Beth. He blinked at the early morning sun slanting through the windows, feeling warm and content for the first time in years. Other women hadn’t given him anything like this, nor had financial success.

He pressed his face into her neck, smelling her alluring musky scent. Beth and heat and sex and wanting him. God, he’d missed this. Missed her.

Ever since she sold herself to his brother.

The contentment he’d felt only moments earlier evaporated, leaving the dark, heavy ache that had been his constant companion for five years. The ache of betrayal. Every muscle tense, he edged away from her sleeping form.

He’d badly needed one more night with her, but that had to be the end of it. He could never allow a relationship with her again.

Beth sighed in her sleep, nuzzling into the white pillow, her tousled pixie-cut hair partly covering her face. She looked so innocent as she dreamed in his bed, so vulnerable. A spark of doubt flared in his heart—could he walk away? Something in his chest shifted. Would she misunderstand their night together and expect more? Would she be hurt when he left?

He shook his head to clear it of worthless sentimentality. This was the woman who’d walked out on him without a backward glance. He would not let himself be fooled again. Clenching his jaw, he slammed the door to his heart closed. He wasn’t the same trusting person he’d been. He’d made sure of that, had built barricades and fortifications around himself that no one had penetrated. And they never would.

Without making a noise, he slipped from the room, grabbing his trousers on the way. He dialed the concierge while he zipped his pants.

“Good morning, Mr. Jordan. How may I help you?”

“I’d like a cab.” He glanced at his watch. Ten past eight. “To arrive in fifteen minutes.”

“I’m afraid there was a big event at one of the wineries last night and all the taxis are on airport runs. I rang them a few minutes ago for another guest and they said there’ll be a two-hour wait.”

Nico swore low and hard.

“Would you still like me to make the booking?”

“No, I’ll organize something else.” He hung up and rubbed his still-sleepy eyes with the heels of his hands. He should have thought of that—it wasn’t as if he hadn’t known about the function. Hell, he’d attended the damn thing with Beth.

He’d have to take her home. How could he face her after the night they’d shared—drive her all the way home, then say goodbye at her door? When he’d woken ten minutes ago, he’d come dangerously close to forgetting her betrayal—he couldn’t make that mistake. A clean break—sending her home by cab would have been perfect.

He’d just have to create a clean break himself.

He stalked back to the bedroom, slid on a shirt and leaned against the door frame as he buttoned it. The sight of her sprawled under his sheets triggered his groin to harden for her again, bringing back memories of the night before under those same sheets. And in the shower. And against the wall.

He bit back a groan. It was over and he needed her gone ASAP—before he did something stupid, like crawl back into that bed and make love to her again.

“Beth,” he croaked. Then cleared his throat and called again. “Beth.”

She stirred and stretched and he clenched his fists to keep from reaching for her. Slowly, she sat up and the sheet fell to expose breasts he’d worshipped last night.

“Nico.” One hand pushed her hair from her eyes and her lips curved into an uncomplicated smile. He tightened his mouth and watched the warmth and joy suddenly vanish from her expression and he knew she was aware things were different this morning. She blinked and gathered the sheet to cover herself.

He blew out a hard breath. “I’ll drop you home.”

She nodded, cynical understanding in eyes as blue as the ocean’s depths. “Of course.” She sighed, then cast a look around the room. “Just let me get dressed, or would you prefer to throw me out on the street wrapped in a sheet?”

He stared blankly at her. She was trying to get a rise out of him, but he wouldn’t let her get the upper hand—she’d had it five years too long. Realizing his hand was clenched, he deliberately released it.

“Your decision.” He shrugged to show her how little it meant to him. “I’ll be downstairs, starting the car.”

He grabbed his keys, phone, wallet and a jacket before slipping on his shoes. Then he walked out the door, not letting himself turn back. He hated that she still had so much power over him that he couldn’t even trust himself to stay in the same room as her and not make love to her again. But in five long years, he’d never let anyone—especially a woman—have any power over him. Beth had taught him the danger in that.

He pulled on his jacket in the elevator down to the underground car park. When the doors opened, he strode over to the Alfa and thumbed the keyless lock. After sliding into the driver’s seat, he began tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. How long would she take? Maybe she’d string out getting dressed to make him wait. To take back control. The old Beth wouldn’t have done that.…

His stomach dropped as he amended the thought—the person he’d thought she was wouldn’t have done that. How much of the persona she’d shown him had been real and how much fabricated? The question had tormented him to the brink of madness when she’d first left, but he’d buried it so deep that the only times he’d allowed himself to ruminate over it was when he woke in the early hours of the morning after dreaming of her.…

The elevator pinged its arrival and annoyingly, his pulse spiked. If that was her, she would have done little more than slip on her clothes before following him. The doors slid open to reveal Beth in the peach gown she’d worn the night before, her hair not brushed. Desire stirred at her just-from-bed look, but he suppressed it. He couldn’t afford to be distracted by lust now.

She walked toward the car, her heart-shaped face expressionless, as if she’d erected a wall of protection around herself as effectively as he’d done only minutes earlier. She sat in the passenger seat, head regally tilted, refusing to make eye contact with him.

Good. His hands tightened on the wheel before he turned the key and the car roared to life. He didn’t want small talk, either.

They traveled the short distance to her house in complete silence, the mood inside his car icier than the cold winter morning outside. The town was quiet this early on a Sunday morning, but he supposed it was never as busy as any place he’d lived. Its lines of suburban houses were modest, yet charming in their leafy streets. They passed a small school with murals of laughing children painted down one side. Was that where his nephew would go to class? He pressed his lips together. Another of his agendas for this trip. He wasn’t leaving until he’d met the child.

In coming to New Zealand, he’d intended meeting his nephew, and this time neither Beth nor Kent would stand in his way as they had done since Mark’s birth. The boy deserved to know his family, and as soon as Nico made contact, he’d ensure the next step happened quickly—his father, Tim, would meet his only grandchild as he longed to do. Nico would do anything for his father.

He pulled into the edge of the winery estate where Beth lived, then down her tree-lined driveway. When he reached the house, he left the car idling. He had a pithy exit line ready, but his attention was caught by another car and an older couple at Beth’s front door. He recognized her parents immediately, as they waved across to his car. Beth had said Mark was with them this weekend, which meant the boy was probably inside the house this minute. Triumph surged.

Finally.

He cut the engine, got out and made his way over to the older couple, Beth rushing behind him.

Too late to keep him from meeting his nephew now.

He held out his hand to her father. “Mr. Jackson.”

Her father didn’t move as he took in Beth’s disheveled appearance, then turned to Nico, his face a picture of rage and disapproval. “So you’ve come sniffing around again.”

Nico withdrew his hand, realizing a moment too late that he was dropping this man’s daughter home after having obviously loved her all night. Any father would be prickly. Nico squared his shoulders. “I want you to know—”

Her father’s stance was rigid as he cut Nico’s words off. “You abandoned our daughter when she—”

Tucking stands of mussed hair behind her ears, Beth inserted herself between them and grabbed her father’s hand. “Dad, Nico was just leaving. We don’t want to hold him up.”