Can a tiny unexpected baby...

...bring them back together?

Billionaire Jake Cartwright’s Mayfair hotel has an adorable if unexpected new guest. And according to the note, abandoned baby Emily isn’t just his temporary responsibility—she’s his fiercely independent ex Isobel Brennan’s, too! Finding himself up close and personal with Izzy once again, Jake’s long-buried feelings are quickly unearthed. And, once their little charge is safely home, Jake wants to trust in a future where Izzy remains—forever...

NINA MILNE has always dreamed of writing for Mills & Boon—ever since she played libraries with her mother’s stacks of Mills & Boon romances as a child. On her way to this dream Nina acquired an English degree, a hero of her own, three gorgeous children and—somehow!—an accountancy qualification. She lives in Brighton and has filled her house with stacks of books—her very own real library.

Also by Nina Milne

Claiming His Secret Royal Heir

Marooned with the Millionaire

Conveniently Wed to the Prince

Hired Girlfriend, Pregnant Fiancée

Whisked Away by Her Millionaire Boss

A Crown by Christmas collection

Cinderella’s Prince Under the Mistletoe by Cara Colter

Soldier Prince’s Secret Baby Gift by Kate Hardy

Their Christmas Royal Wedding

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Baby on the Tycoon’s Doorstep

Nina Milne

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-0-008-90349-7

BABY ON THE TYCOON’S DOORSTEP

© 2020 Nina Milne

Published in Great Britain 2020

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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To my family,

for putting up with me during the writing of this book!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Dedication

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Extract

About the Publisher

PROLOGUE
Six years ago

ISOBEL TRIED TO determine which emotion was uppermost, incandescent rage or sheer gut-pounding, rib-squeezing hurt. She opted for the former because she would not succumb to the latter. The thought of breaking down in tears prickled her skin with aversion—she would not give Jake Cartwright the satisfaction.

Instead she watched as Jake paced the room, each stride an angry re-treading of the past hour’s conversation, his whole body taut with frustration. Then she hurled words, each one laden with fury.

‘How could you do this? And why the hell won’t you just admit it?’

‘I won’t admit it because I didn’t do it. How many more times can I tell you this?’ He halted in front of her. ‘I did not sleep with Anna.’ Each word was enunciated with exaggerated emphasis.

‘Jeez, Jake. Repetition doesn’t make the words true. You must think I’m an A-grade idiot. Fact: I caught Anna sneaking out of your house at one-fifteen in the morning. Fact: she confessed!’

The memory was so vivid. Beautiful, blonde, perfect Anna. Supposedly ‘just a friend’ from Jake’s university days. Anna with her long blonde hair and endless legs and her first-class degree in economics and her brand-new modelling contract. Difficult to know which to be more threatened by.

Long hair tousled, shoes in hand, a cat that’s had the cream smile on her face. A smile that had dropped from her lips with almost incongruous speed when she’d seen Isobel approach. ‘Isobel? What are you doing here? I...we thought you were at work.’

‘My shift finished early. I thought I’d surprise Jake.’ The words had fallen from her lips on automatic, her tone ridiculously polite, almost conversational as the full ramifications of the scene pounded her brain. The irony not lost on her. ‘Turns out the surprise is on me.’

‘Isobel. Listen to me.’ Anna’s voice was urgent now, those wide blue eyes full of concern.

‘There’s nothing for you to say.’ She sidestepped to get around the willowy model, frowned when Anna reached out and took her arm.

‘Wait. Please. Let me explain. Before you see Jake. Please Isobel. Come with me. Hear my side first.’ Isobel hesitated; part of her wanted to storm in and confront Jake, part of her recoiled at the idea of seeing him now, fresh from Anna, perhaps still tangled in the sheets... The whole thought shuddered her body with humiliation.

‘OK.’

‘Thank you.’ Anna’s grip tightened on her arm. ‘We can’t talk here. There’s an all-night diner round the corner.’

The walk achieved in a dull silence punctuated by the click of Anna’s high heels on the pavement; images tormented Isobel’s brain as realisation struck. Jake slept with Anna. Jake slept with Anna. Anger began to bubble, anger at him and anger at herself. How could she have been such a fool? Why had she agreed to date him? She should have known this would happen. Jake was gorgeous and rich and fun; used to women falling at his feet, He dated whichever beautiful model or celebrity took his fancy. Now he’d slept with Anna. Jake slept with Anna.

She followed Anna into a small café, redolent with the smell of cooked breakfasts, fried eggs, the whiff of chip fat...

‘Sit here,’ Anna instructed, placing her handbag on a table as she gestured to Isobel. ‘I’ll get coffee. Americano right?’

Isobel nodded; it seemed easier than a refusal. Not that she could drink anything purchased by Anna–she’d probably choke. A few minutes later the blonde woman returned, sat down facing Isobel and leant forward.

‘You have to forgive Jake. You have to. This was a one-off. I know it is. It’s you he cares for and I think I was just a final fling before he commits. To you. I know he will be regretting it and it was my fault–my idea. Jake and I are friends. Nothing more.’ Anna put a hand on her arm. ‘It meant nothing. To either of us.’

Isobel shook her head. ‘But it means something to me.’

‘Please. You have to forgive him.’

Isobel rose from the table. ‘No Anna. I don’t.’

And she still didn’t.

After her conversation with Anna she had felt too raw to confront Jake, her insides scorched with sheer humiliation, her brain leaden with the awful knowledge of betrayal. Instead she’d sat, sleepless, by the window of her small rented room until dawn had touched the sky. Sat and thought and soon the mortification had been replaced by a welcome bright bitter light of fury. An anger that didn’t allow even the vestige of forgiveness.

Not that Jake was asking for forgiveness—instead he had the gall to try and turn it on her. Was furious with Isobel for not yielding to his will, for refusing to enter his illusory world where he was innocent. Shades of her childhood. Her stepfather’s repeated lies and denials, the excuses that spewed from his mouth, his assertion that it was actually his wife’s fault that he had hit her, that he was sorry, that he loved her. And Tanya Brennan always ceded and accepted him back.

No way was Isobel following that pattern—any pattern followed by her mother. Folding her arms now she glared at Jake. ‘I have evidence and a confession.’

‘You also have my word. I didn’t sleep with Anna.’

‘Then why was she tiptoeing out of your house at one-fifteen in the morning?’

‘I don’t know.’ Jake gusted a sigh. ‘But I can tell you what I think. Anna knew I was out. She still has a key from years ago when she stayed here whilst I was away. I think she used my house last night to entertain a “friend”.’

‘Then why didn’t she tell me that?’

‘Because she is seeing a man she has to keep secret—either a politician or someone married—she won’t say. When she saw you, my guess is she panicked in case you stormed in and found him.’

‘Then why doesn’t she tell me now?’

‘Because it could compromise him.’

Isobel shook her head. ‘You have to admit that sounds sketchy at best. Anyway, if you weren’t here, where were you? Prove to me you were somewhere else.’

‘I can’t. I was out walking.’

‘Walking?’ She could hear the high-pitched rise of her voice. ‘Surely you can come up with something better than that? Walking where?’

‘It’s the truth. I had a bit of a row with my father.’ Isobel stilled. In the months she had known him, Jake had mentioned his father less than a handful of times. ‘I decided to go for a drive and then I parked and just walked.’

‘So how did Anna even know the house was empty?’

‘She called and I told her I was out for the evening. It was risky but Anna has always thrived on risk.’ Yet another reason why she and Jake were suited to each other, Isobel thought dully. ‘I get it sounds sketchy but it is the truth.’

Isobel stared at him.

She closed her eyes, realising she wanted to believe him. Knew she couldn’t. The image of Anna, the way she had walked down the drive, the smile on her face, the urgency of her words—how could she disregard that? Plus, Anna was in Jake’s league, beautiful, intelligent, wealthy. She was his type. Isobel wasn’t. Isobel had grown up on a barren, desolate estate and then been consigned to the care system; Isobel only had the money she earned herself as a waitress; Isobel had dropped out of school at sixteen. This whole idea of dating Jake had been a mistake of massive proportions and now she was paying for her error in spades, clubs and her own heart.

Now he stepped forward and for a moment, despite herself, she was struck anew by his sheer aura, tried to remind herself that the thick blond hair, the charismatic blue-grey eyes, the strength of feature was a simple genetic chance. ‘You have to believe me.’

Wrong choice of words.

That was what her mother had said time and again.

‘This time I won’t take your stepdad back. You have to believe me.’

Her stepdad talking to her mother. ‘I won’t hurt you again. I love you. I’ve changed. You have to believe me.’

As if the phrase had some sort of hypnotic, magical mesmerism. The power to dictate.

She shook her head. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I don’t have to believe you. Not when all the facts tell me the opposite.’

Anger and hurt etched his face. ‘Do you truly believe that I would cheat on you and then deny it, lie to you to your face?’

‘I don’t think you set out to do it, Jake. I think you and Anna got carried away in the moment, you took a risk because you genuinely thought I wouldn’t find out.’

‘That is not what happened.’

Isobel clenched her hands into fists—she would not believe him simply because she wanted to. Wouldn’t repeat her mother’s pattern. ‘It’s over, Jake.’

‘Is that really what you want?’ His voice was harder now, edged with intensity. ‘Because it’s not what I want. But it’s your call. You either trust me or you don’t.’

Be strong. ‘I can’t trust you. Not after this. And you can’t have a relationship without trust.’

‘Then I guess it’s goodbye.’ His voice was pure ice now and she forced herself to turn and leave the room. Refused to acknowledge the ache in her heart, told herself this was for the best. She was better off on her own—she’d always known that.

CHAPTER ONE
Present day

JAKE CARTWRIGHT LEFT the crowded tube station and strode forward through the throng on the pavement. He felt the welcome breeze on his face after the cramped underground journey. Sure, he could afford the chauffeured cars that his father took everywhere—hell, Charles Cartwright had a fleet of limos on tap—and he knew his father despised the fact that his son chose to use public over private transport.

Not that Jake gave a flying fish about his father’s opinion. Not any more. He’d spent way too many hours of childhood caring about his father. Wondering why his dad didn’t want him, why he lived with his grandfather, only saw his dad once in a blue moon.

Then, when Jake was six and his grandfather died, a limo arrived and Jake was chauffeured to Charles’ London mansion. Jake could still remember his searing grief, his burning hope that his dad would be there to comfort him. A hope that had flickered out instantly—Charles hadn’t even been home to greet his son. That had been left to Petra, Charles’ PA-cum-assistant. It had been a prelude of times to come—Jake had been left to his own devices, his material needs looked after by Petra and the various interchangeable girlfriends and hangers-on that made up his dad’s entourage.

Every so often Charles would see him, usually in company, each meeting always edged with awkwardness. Eventually Jake had decided to accept his father’s indifference and lock down the emotional turmoil, all the questions, hurt and anger caused. Decided to get on with his life.

But now that Jake held a stake in the Cartwright empire, Charles Cartwright’s apathy had turned to antagonism and he seemed dead set on thwarting his son at every boardroom turn.

Jake’s pace increased—he would not let his father continue to run the business into the ground with his policy of extracting as much money as possible to spend on his hedonistic lifestyle.

For a moment the image of his grandfather flashed across his brain. ‘You are the Cartwright heir, Jake. Never forget it.’

And he hadn’t—his life’s ambition was to lead the company into a glorious future. Soon enough he would—in ten days, to be precise. In ten days he would wrest control from his father.

His phone rang and he pulled it from his pocket, noted the identity of the caller—Helen McKenzie, manager of the flagship hotel, Cartwright of Mayfair.

‘Jake?’ Helen’s voice spoke of relief. ‘I’ve been trying to get hold of you.’

‘Sorry. I must have lost signal on the tube.’ Jake pressed the phone to his ear, striving to block out the noises of the city—the familiar rumble of double-decker buses, the hum of mobile phones, the stream of chatter, the pounding of shoes on the sun-flecked pavements. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Um... A baby was left at Reception a couple of hours ago.’

Jake frowned. ‘Did a guest leave her baby by mistake?’ And not noticed for two hours? Unlikely but possible.

‘That’s what we thought at first. But then—’ Helen hesitated. ‘When no one came to claim the baby, I gave her to Maria to look after.’

‘Good call.’ Maria was the hotel’s housekeeper, a mother of four with a brood of grandchildren.

‘And I was about to call the police. But then Maria found a letter in the carrycot.’ Deep breath. ‘Addressed to you.’

‘Me?’

‘Yes. We haven’t opened it, but I figured it was best to talk to you.’

Another good call. ‘How old is this baby?’

‘Maria thinks she is about three, maybe four months.’

‘OK. Don’t do anything. I’m on my way.’

Jake dropped the phone back in his pocket and moved to the kerb to hail a cab, knowing that would get him to the hotel fastest. His mind raced, told him that, whatever was going on, at least the baby couldn’t be his. This past year or so he’d been so caught up in work, in his mission to gain control, he’d had no down time at all. His work hard, play hard ethos had morphed to work hard and work harder.

He took a deep breath as he climbed into the black cab and continued to process the situation, wondering who the baby belonged to and what she had to do with Jake.

Half an hour later he alighted outside the hotel and walked through the revolving glass doors into the opulent marble foyer, rich with exotic greenery, enhanced by the gentle sounds of the water feature to one side and enlivened by the sculptures on display by various London artists. He headed straight for the lift and to Maria’s domain. Although Maria didn’t live in the hotel she did sometimes stay and a room was available to her at all times.

Jake knocked and then paused on the threshold for a moment when the executive housekeeper called, ‘Come in.’

Maria was sitting in her rocking chair by the bed where the baby lay asleep, surrounded by pillows. Both tiny hands curled into fists resting by her head, a head covered in a fine down of wispy brown hair. His breath caught in his throat as he registered the sheer vulnerability of this tiny being who had been deposited in his hotel and he felt a sudden stab of empathy. Left abandoned, unwanted—just like Jake had been.

His father had left within hours of his birth, jaunted off on a nine-month cruise. As for his mother, she’d hung around for a couple of days and then gone on her way and Jake hadn’t seen her until he was eighteen. More memories crowded in. His mother’s face, streaked with tears as she’d explained, the words tumbling out as though she had stored them up for years. She’d desperately needed money—her younger brother had been dangerously ill, but with the chance of a life-saving operation in the States if they could raise the money. She’d started a charity appeal and Charles Cartwright had contacted her and made a deal: marry him, provide him with a child and leave for a new life in the States—he’d pay for the operation, the aftercare and make a generous settlement.

‘I had to do it, Jake.’ His mother had dried her eyes, gazed at him with desperate appeal in her blue eyes. ‘I had no choice.’

Irrelevant. What mattered now was this baby. Jake was a grown man now, a success—that tiny, vulnerable, abandoned Jake had survived. Thrived. Grown into an uber-successful man with an ideal lifestyle.

‘Is she OK?’ he asked.

Maria nodded. ‘She seems to be fine, an adorable bonny little bambino. I have given her a bottle and she went straight to sleep. She was left with a bag full of milk and nappies and clean clothes and a careful list of instructions about her routine. And here is the letter.’

Jake sat down at the small wooden desk and opened the envelope carefully, saw the barely legible scrawl that covered the scrap of paper inside.

Dear Jake

I know this will come as a surprise after all these years but I know I can trust you. Emily is my baby, and I love her very much, but right now I can’t keep her safe.

Martin, her dad, is coming out of prison tomorrow. Please, please, don’t let Martin anywhere near Emily.

I hope it’s OK but I have asked Isobel to come and look after Emily. I know that may be awkward but I trust you both and it will only be for a few days.

Please tell Emily I love her and I will see her soon. I have packed her milk and her teddy and some nappies.

Isobel will explain everything—but please keep Emily safe for me.

Yours sincerely

Caro Ross

Jake stared down at the letter for a long moment as memories streamed back. Caro—Isobel’s best friend.

Isobel.

Her image danced up from the cache of memories.

Isobel, with her dark brown hair and hazel eyes that seemed to shift and change colour with her mood. Isobel, his first—his only—disastrous foray into the world of ‘real relationships’. Perhaps it had been the folly of youth that had persuaded him to let his guard down, let Isobel in, to allow himself to believe emotions were a good idea.

Well, he’d been proved spectacularly wrong. Emotions had sucked—big-time—and the real relationship had been exposed as based on dust and ashes. Whoa—there was no point in a walk down memory lane, not when he knew how the path ended. With him, alone and rejected, stricken with disbelief and hurt as he’d watched Isobel walk away. Just as his mother had, exactly as his father had. Judged and damned as not good enough. Again.

Enough.

At that moment the baby stirred, gave a small whimper and then subsided back into sleep. Emily was the important person here, not Jake and his feelings—feelings that he’d long since got over. Isobel was history, someone who had been a mere fragment of his life. A blip, a mistake never to be repeated, a lesson learnt.

Jake had always known how to move on from the past—and he’d moved on from Isobel. Caro said Isobel would explain everything; ergo he needed to talk to Isobel. That would not be a problem. At all.

Isobel pushed open the door to her room that she rented as part of a flat-share with a couple of other girls.

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?’

The idea shocked her. ‘Of course she will come back. Emily is her daughter. She won’t abandon her.’

‘You don’t know that.’ She glanced at him, saw the grim set to his lips. ‘You don’t know her any more. Can we contact her? Do we even know where she is?’

Isobel shook her head. ‘She’s going to call me in a few days.’

He drummed his fingers on his thigh. ‘I think we should call the police.’

‘No.’ Her reaction was straight from her gut, born of visceral fear. ‘You can’t do that.’ Isobel forced herself to remain still, to project calm. ‘If we call the police, they will call social services.’

‘Maybe social services need to be involved—maybe they can help.’

Now panic spiralled and she reminded herself that Jake didn’t know how the system worked, didn’t even know that Isobel had been in care. Because she’d never told him. She hadn’t wanted his pity, hadn’t wanted to further highlight the stark contrasts between their different backgrounds. ‘How do you work that out?’

‘Martin could persuade Caro that he is a changed man; she could get Emily and go straight back to him. You said it yourself. She has forgiven him time and again.’

‘She won’t do that to Emily.’ Her voice was low as she tried to inject optimism into it, but she knew it was misplaced; Isobel’s mother had loved Isobel, but that love hadn’t been strong enough to withstand her dependence on Simon, nor had it enabled her to protect Isobel.

‘You can’t know that and the most important thing is Emily’s safety.’ His voice was inexorable.

Safe. Isobel knew what it felt like to not be safe; it was a knowledge wired into her very being, her bones, her soul and she never wanted Emily to have to feel that. Images crowded in on her. Herself as a small child, huddled under her bedclothes, sounds through the walls, raised voices, the thud of fist on flesh, her mother’s cry. Isobel’s hand stuffed in her mouth to keep silent, the taste of her own fear, the weight in her gut at her own cowardice, that stopped her from flying into the other room to claw and fight and kick to protect her mother. The knowledge of what would happen if she did, the thud of the fist in her stomach, the shove, the twist of the arm. The loom of her stepfather’s face before her, flushed and mottled, the words in her face, spittle flying.

Her own terror, the knowledge that she was defenceless. Just as Emily was now.

A conflict of emotions battled inside her but she knew her priority. ‘I swear to you that I would never hand Emily back if Martin is in the picture. But please let’s give Caro a few days. If there is any chance that she and Emily can be safe together we owe her that. Owe them that.’ There was silence as he continued to pace. ‘Right now, Emily is safe. Here.’

‘That we can agree on. I will keep a full security detail on the suite; we have surveillance cameras here and there’s me. I won’t let Martin anywhere near Emily. That’s a promise. I hope he turns up. Trust me, I’ll enjoy meeting him.’

His voice was hard and as she looked at him she knew he meant every word. Her gaze lingered on the ripple of muscle in his arms, the sheer bulk and strength of him and a funny little thrill shot straight through her and warmed her veins.

Stop right there.

Yes, Jake was big and strong, but surely she could accept that without this daft, stupid reaction.

‘Then Emily can stay with us? No police?’

There was a long silence and she could see the shadows chase themselves across his grey eyes, wondered what dark thoughts streamed through his mind. Then he nodded. ‘OK. Let’s give Caro a chance. You’re right—she does deserve that.’

‘Thank you.’ Relief ran through her, along with reluctant gratitude. Enough to make her smile at him. ‘Really.’

‘That’s OK. As long as we are clear that I will change my mind if circumstance dictates.’

Before she could answer, a knock on the door heralded the arrival of their food.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

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