Marriage in Name Only?. Anne Oliver
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people he was standing with and began walking towards her. Her pulse thrummed fast and her breathing quickened while she watched him approach.
Unlike the rest of the guests who wore casual, he was dressed for business. A suit and tie for a Sunday brunch? Still, she couldn’t help but be impressed by the clean-cut corporate image. Hopefully he was on his way to forge some milliondollar deal with some other mining magnate and she could relax and not think about sharing Sunday brunch with him in an entirely more intimate way.
‘Morning, Chloe.’ His smile was polite, his tone precise, almost professional. Only his eyes betrayed the hint that he hadn’t forgotten last night’s kiss either.
‘Jordan. Hello.’ She felt her face warm and prayed her expression didn’t give away her inner turmoil. Her dreams, her restless night.
Not to mention the fact that she’d almost blurted out her most private personal problems at the diner.
Then Zahira smiled enigmatically and made some vague comment about leaving her in Jordan’s capable hands—which had her body tingling anew—and walked away, leaving the two of them standing alone together in the middle of the lawn.
‘Would you like a drink?’ he asked, motioning a waiter who was at her side in three seconds flat.
‘Soda water, please. I skipped breakfast. Running late,’ she added, though why she felt she had to explain …
‘You didn’t sleep well?’
Was that humour in his voice? ‘Slept like a baby, thanks for asking.’
‘The coffee didn’t keep you tossing and turning all night?’
Not the coffee. But she knew he already knew that and was relieved when the waiter returned with her glass of bubbles. ‘I was tired—that usually does it.’ She took a cooling sip of her water and deflected his attention from her hot cheeks with, ‘Do you always dress so formally for a barbecue?’
‘I have a meeting in the city later.’
‘Hello.’
Chloe looked down at the sound of the young voice to see a small girl with dusky skin and long black hair looking up at her. ‘Hello, there.’
‘What’s your name?’ she asked, fiddling with a gold brooch pinned to her dress. ‘My name’s Tamara. It means date tree. Mummy’s is Zahira and it means blossoming flower and Daddy’s is Sadiq and it means trooful. Daddy says I should always tell the troof.’
Chloe glanced at Jordan and they exchanged a smile before she leaned down. ‘Your daddy’s right. And my name’s Chloe.’
‘What does Chloe mean?’
‘I don’t know. I’ll have to find out, won’t I?’
Tamara’s inquisitive gaze flicked between them. ‘Is Jordan your boyfriend?’
‘No,’ Chloe said, startled. ‘We … don’t know each other very well.’
‘Not yet,’ Jordan murmured, sending ripples of awareness down Chloe’s spine. He didn’t look at Chloe as he ruffled the small girl’s hair. ‘How’s it going, Tams?’
‘I’m five now,’ she announced proudly, holding up her fingers. ‘And I go to school so I’m allowed to help light the candles on my daddy’s birthday cake later.’
Chloe nodded. ‘I’ll be sure to be watching.’
‘I think your daddy has something for you,’ Jordan said, jutting his chin in the direction of the barbecue.
Tamara followed his gaze. ‘Yum, sausages. Bye.’ She waved a hand, setting a dozen gold bangles jangling along her arm, her frilly party dress shimmering in the sun as she skipped across the lawn to her father.
‘She’s a cutie,’ Chloe said, meeting Jordan’s eyes, still unsettled by the boyfriend question but determined not to let him see. ‘And obviously likes to be the centre of attention.’
‘Reminds me of someone else last night.’ His eyes twinkled at her.
Oh, no. Too awkward. She loved attention but singing to an audience in a costume two sizes too small? And worse, kissing the wrong man? She coughed out a laugh. ‘Please, I’d rather forget.’
‘Well, I, for one, am not likely to forget any time soon.’ He watched her without speaking a moment. Not that she was looking at him now—she was smiling and giving a finger wave to Tamara, who was holding up her sausage like a trophy—but she could feel the heat of his gaze, bathing her like sunshine and not letting her forget either. ‘You like kids,’ he said.
‘You kinda need to if you want to work as a nanny.’
‘Guess so. That job kept you busy a good while, then?’
Eighteen wonderful months of being a nanny to Brad while falling hopelessly in love with his father … Don’t go there. She forced herself to meet Jordan’s eyes. ‘Only until I had enough money to get me to the next port of call.’
A tiny line furrowed between his brows, as if he was weighing up the truth of what she’d said. ‘So … what else did you do while you were overseas? The usual waitressing to fund the campervan to Europe?’
‘I wanted more than that,’ she went on quickly, relieved the nanny topic was over. ‘I picked grapes in France, trekked Nepal, worked on a trail restoration project in the Grand Canyon. Won a wet T-shirt contest in Rome and lost my money in—’ Appalled, she bit her lips together. Please tell me I didn’t just say that. To a man she barely knew. A rich and successful man who’d never have been so careless where money was concerned. She couldn’t even blame her runaway tongue on too much wine.
This was the however many time in less than twelve hours that she’d said too much to Jordan Blackstone. It was none of his business. She should blame him. It was his fault she wasn’t thinking straight.
‘You ran out of funds,’ he finished for her.
‘Ye—No.’ She chewed on her lip then plastered a smile on her face. He probably thought she had a gambling problem or something. ‘Family—I told you already. Last night.’
‘So you did,’ he said slowly, watching her through eyes that were far too perceptive. ‘I wasn’t sure.’
Now he probably thought she’d come back to sponge off her parents. If he only knew it was the other way round. She eyeballed him back. ‘Money’s not important to me. Never has been, never will be.’
He didn’t believe her, she could tell. And okay, money hadn’t been important until now. She looked away from his unsettling assessment and watched the wait staff setting platters of salads and aromatic Eastern dishes on a long glass table.
When she saw the tray of steaming barbecued delights arrive at the table, Chloe moved fast. ‘Looks like the food’s ready,’ she said over her shoulder as she walked away. ‘I’m starved.’
Chloe used the buffet meal to mingle with the other guests under the covered pergola. She didn’t speak with Jordan again, but as she chatted she knew where he was at any given time by the way the hairs on the back of her neck tingled as if they were mini antennae seeking a signal.
So when Tamara asked her to come and look at her new cubby house, Chloe was only too happy to escape.
The little hideaway stood a metre or so off the ground. It was a perfect replica of a gingerbread house, crammed with child-sized furniture, books and toys. Tamara had just settled on a cushion when she jumped up and scrambled to the door. ‘I forgot my princess crown in my bedroom. Wait, okay?’
‘Okay.’
Chloe watched the child skip off across the manicured lawns in her designer dress and shiny shoes with what had to be a fortune in Dubai gold glittering on her arm and blew out a sigh.
Obviously