The Tycoon Takes a Wife / His Royal Prize: The Tycoon Takes a Wife / His Royal Prize. Katherine Garbera
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he’d done wrong now any more than before.
Upstairs in her room, Eloisa sunk to the edge of her bed, sliding down to the floor. She clutched her knees, tears making fast tracks down her face.
Seeing Jonah touch that glass paperweight had almost driven her to her knees earlier. After she’d lost the baby four months into her pregnancy, she’d had a private memorial service all her own for her child. She’d taken a tiny nosegay of white rosebuds to the beach and let waves carry them away as she’d prayed.
She’d kept one rose for herself. The bloom had dried far faster than her tears. Then she’d had the bud encased in glass along with a couple of tiny shells and some sand from that stretch of shoreline.
Jonah obviously loved children, evident not just from his words but from the way his eyes had gone soft over that family photo album. Each beautiful baby’s face had torn a fresh hole in heart, tormenting her with what her child—hers and Jonah’s—might have looked like.
The doctors had told her it was just one of those things. There was no reason why she couldn’t have more children, but she couldn’t see any way clear to having forever with any man, much less starting a family.
Between fears about threats from her father’s enemies to even deeper fears about living out her mother’s legacy … Eloisa swiped her eyes with her forearm.
God, she was mess.
What would Jonah say if he learned she’d kept the pregnancy a secret from him?
She still didn’t understand why she’d delayed contacting him about the baby. She’d told herself she would let him know before their child was born. When she’d miscarried and her emotions had been such a turmoil of grief, contacting him seemed an overwhelming hurdle.
Every day that passed, it seemed easier to stay quiet. Telling him now wouldn’t serve any purpose.
Her cell phone chimed from inside her purse, startling her midsob. She definitely didn’t feel like speaking to anyone this late. Thank goodness the chimes indicated a text message.
She fished out her phone. Her sister’s name scrolled across the screen. Eloisa thumbed View.
R U home? Worried about u.
Eloisa clutched the phone. She’d never shared her burdens with anyone before. The secrets were too big, too deep. Unburdening herself would be selfish. She stifled back the crazy notion of what it might feel like to spill her guts to her sibling.
Eloisa typed out, Am home and ok. No worries.
She sent the message and pushed to her feet. She needed to splash water on her eyes and go to sleep. Would that be possible with Jonah downstairs on the sofa?
Her phone chimed in her hand. Audrey again.
What about tycoon hunk? Is he there?
She set the cell on the bathroom counter next to the sink. Her fingers hovered over the keypad. What should she tell her sister?
He was most definitely bothering her by his mere presence so much more than she could have even expected. But if she wanted time to figure out what to do about him, her father, her biology, she needed to play along with his bizarre game a while longer.
Beyond that? What did she want?
Eloisa looked at herself in a mirror framed with seashells and sand dollars. She picked at a strand of hair that had slipped loose from her severe ponytail, her face devoid of makeup. But her cheeks were flushed in a way they’d never been before—except for that too-short month in Spain.
The truth settled inside her with a resounding thud. She couldn’t be the sort of person who would walk into that living room, whip the covers off Jonah and say to hell with the consequences, she was making the most of her marital status. She’d gone that route before and it only led to their current mess.
A tempting alternative tickled at her brain. What if she did sleep with him again, but the next time was more about fun, with no ring? She’d let things get too serious before. That had obviously been a mistake on so many levels.
Could she forget the past and have an affair with her ex-husband?
Five
Eloisa made it through the night without a trip downstairs, although it had been rough going when she’d woken up at around four.
But finally the morning sun streaked through her reed roll-up blinds. She could leave her room without feeling she’d caved. Since it was only six-thirty, she might just get to watch him sleep, something she’d missed out on during their one night together.
She pulled on a white terry-cloth robe, securing it tight before leaving her bedroom. Halfway down the stairs she realized the sofa was empty. Well, empty other than the thin quilt straggling off the side. The pillow still bore the deep imprint of a head. Eloisa padded barefoot down the rest of the steps, her toes sinking into the carpet runner along the wood.
Where was Jonah? The spare bathroom downstairs was silent, the door cracked open, steam still lightly fogging the mirror and a pale blue towel hung on the rack. Had he left as abruptly as he’d shown up, even after joking about wanting a final night together? Just the thought of being with him again sent a tingle along her skin, a tingle doused by the possibility he’d already left.
Her bare feet picked up speed along the hardwood floor, but the kitchen was empty, too.
“Uh-huh …” His voice drifted inside.
She spun around. The French doors were open an inch. She sagged back against the island counter and stared through to the patio. Jonah lounged in her Adirondack chair, cell phone pressed to his ear. Curiosity held her still and quiet when she probably should have done something to announce her presence, like slam a couple of cabinets open and closed.
His jean-clad legs stretched out long and so damn sexy, showcased by the morning sun. There was something hot and intimate about his bare feet and while she couldn’t see his chest, his arms appeared bare as well.
Memories of making love in Spain flamed hotter in her mind after simmering below the surface all night long. She may have had a couple of drinks and lost some inhibitions, but she remembered the sex. Good sex. Amazing sex. She’d been so hungry for him as she’d torn away his shirt, popping buttons in her frenzy. His chest had captured her attention all by itself. She’d known he was muscular. The ripples under his shirt had been impossible to miss, but she hadn’t been prepared for the intense definition, the unmistakable strength and power far more elemental than any money or prestige.
She’d always considered herself the cerebral sort, attracted to academic types. So it had totally knocked her off balance when she’d gone weak-kneed over a peek at Jonah’s pecs.
“Right,” he said to whoever was on the other end of the line. He thrust a hand through his still-damp hair, slicking it back.”I realize that cuts a week off our timeline. Go ahead and send me the new specs. I’ll get back to you with an answer by the end of business today.” He listened and nodded.”I can be reached at this number. Meanwhile, I’ll be on the lookout for your fax.”
He disconnected and didn’t show signs of dialing again, apparently done with chitchatting for the moment. Any second now, he might stand and notice her. Eloisa looked around for some excuse to appear busy rather than to be eavesdropping. She snatched the empty coffeepot from the coffeemaker.
Jonah stood, stretching his arms overhead.
Her mouth went dry. His chest was everything she remembered and more. She’d forgotten about the deep tan. The honey-warm glow of his skin made her want to taste him all over.
She visually traced the cut of his six-pack lower, lower still down to … oh my … he’d left the top button of his jeans open.
No boxers.
Just a hint of a tan line.
Eloisa