“I’m prepared to waive the debt you owe me, if you give me a child.”

Piper gasped. “You’re talking about a baby! Not some pawn in a game of chess.”

“You’re in a position to repay me?” Wade asked.

“You know damn well that I can’t pay you back.”

When his hands settled on her shoulders she flinched, but it didn’t deter him. Instead he turned her body and enveloped her in his arms. It shouldn’t feel so good. She should pull away, refuse his offer of solace—he was the enemy—but instead, she welcomed his embrace.

“Would it be so bad, Piper? We were good together once.”

“Please,” she said, her voice strained and small. “Give me time to work something out.”

“You have until dinner tonight.”

Dear Reader,

I’m frequently asked by readers, and sometimes just those who are curious, where I get my ideas. It often makes me pause and wonder, too.

Essentially, my story ideas evolve from a trigger. That trigger can be a snippet I might hear on the news or a line from a song’s lyrics, or even a picture of a house. Once that trigger does its stuff, my mind is stimulated to twist and turn the snippet, or the line from the song, into a gazillion “what if” scenarios. The same, too, with a picture of a house. What kind of people live there? How long has this house been a part of them? Is it even a part of them and, if not, why not?

With The Pregnancy Contract, there were various triggers and one of the key ones is a very lovely historical home, called Alberton, in the city where I live. I haven’t visited the house recently, but the memory of previous visits always lingers inside me. And with those memories, the very strong impression that it was very much a “family” home. So then I started to wonder—what if someone had taken for granted that this family home would always be there, always be theirs? What if, one day, they came home and it wasn’t?

I hope you enjoy The Pregnancy Contract. It was a very emotional story to write and one that made me sigh with satisfaction when Piper and Wade finally reached their happy ever after.

Happy reading!

Yvonne Lindsay

About the Author

New Zealand born, to Dutch immigrant parents, YVONNE LINDSAY became an avid romance reader at the age of thirteen. Now, married to her “blind date” and with two fabulous children, she remains a firm believer in the power of romance. Yvonne feels privileged to be able to bring to her readers the stories of her heart. In her spare time, when not writing, she can be found with her nose firmly in a book, reliving the power of love in all walks of life. She can be contacted via her website www.yvonnelindsay.com.

The Pregnancy

Contract

Yvonne Lindsay

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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To Anna Campbell and Trish Morey, the funniest

“went to the cheese shop” and French champagne

buddies a girl could have!

One

“He’s dead?”

Wade watched her carefully. Oh, she was a good actress all right. Anyone would think she was shocked, or even sorry, to hear her father had died. But if that was genuinely the case, maybe she’d have been at his side in his last hours instead of partying her way around the world these past eight years. He fought back the rawness of his own grief for the man who had been his mentor—his best friend. He should have been able to share that grief with the man’s daughter. But he knew better than to share any part of his feelings with Piper Mitchell again.

“Yeah. Four days ago. This—” he gestured behind him to the throng of people circulating through the lower floors of the house “—is his wake.”

“No, he can’t be dead. You’re lying.” Piper took a shuddering breath. “You have to be lying!”

“I wouldn’t waste my breath lying to you.”

His words slowly sank in, digging beyond her disbelief. He could see the exact moment the reality hit her. Her face paled beneath the healthy tan that had gilded her cheeks only moments ago. Her light-colored irises that glittered like the palest blue topaz all but disappeared as her pupils dilated and the shadows under her eyes hollowed and darkened. She took an unsteady step backward, and instinctively Wade shot out a hand to stop her before she toppled down the tiled stairs behind her.

She tilted her head to look at his hand, curled around her arm.

“I … I don’t feel very well,” she said, her voice trailing away into nothing as her knees buckled and her eyelids fluttered shut.

Silently cursing her for both her timing and her reaction, Wade scooped her up into his arms and carried her through the front door.

“Mr. Collins, is everything all right?” Dexter, the butler, for want of a better description, came hurrying from the ballroom where the bulk of the mourners had gathered over drinks and canapés.

“It’s Miss Mitchell, she collapsed when she heard the news about her father,” Wade replied, clamping his jaw on the more colorful adjectives he’d have preferred to use to explain her reaction.

“Should I call a doctor?” Dexter asked.

“No, I don’t think that’s necessary. Let’s see how she feels when she wakes. Is her room still prepared?”

“It was one of Mr. Mitchell’s express wishes that Miss Piper’s room always be kept ready, sir.”

“I’ll take her up, then.” Wade nodded at the pack Piper had dropped on the front porch. “Could you bring her things?”

“Certainly, sir.”

Wade powered up the wide sweep of stairs with his late boss’s daughter in his arms. Despite her height, she barely weighed enough to register on his breathing, and when he lay her down on the frilly comforter that adorned her bed, he noticed how thin and frail she was beneath the jeans and bulky sweatshirt she wore.

“Perhaps it would be best if I called Mrs. Dexter to attend to her,” Dexter said smoothly as he deposited the grimy backpack on the polished wooden floor of the room.

“Yes,” Wade said, watching for any signs of consciousness from the still inert form on the bed. There was no way he wanted to have his hands on her any longer than necessary. Not anymore. “That would be best.”

Why now? he wondered. Why had she come back now? He stood to one side of the bed, watching the shallow rise and fall of her chest beneath the well-worn sweatshirt. He shook his head. He’d seen the bank statements and knew how she’d burned through her trust fund over the past eight years. What the hell had she spent all her money on? Certainly not clothing if what she wore now was anything to go by.

A noise at the door alerted him to the presence of the housekeeper-cum-cook he’d inherited along with Dexter when he’d bought the house from Rex Mitchell a couple years ago.

“Ah, lovey, what have you done to yourself?” Mrs. Dexter muttered under her breath as she pressed a hand to Piper’s forehead. “And your beautiful hair, what on earth is this?”

“I believe they’re called dreadlocks,” Wade said dryly, his lip curling with derision.

Trust Piper to arrive on his doorstep looking like some refugee from another country. It was just the kind of plea for attention they’d all come to expect from her during her late teens.

Mind you, why should he be surprised? It amazed him to realize, deep down, he’d still hoped that she might have changed. But, no. In typical Piper fashion, she’d proven time and again that there was only one person who she cared about in this world, and that person was herself. And nothing and no one would ever get in the way of her pleasure. Not even her dying father.

Not even the baby she’d almost had.

Dexter reappeared in the doorway to Piper’s room.

“Mr. Collins, your guests?”

“Yes, thank you, Dexter. I’ll be down immediately.”

Walking away from the woman on the bed, he returned to the gathering below. The gathering that was supposed to be a celebration of the life of the man who had given Wade every opportunity to shake off the dregs of his upbringing and excel. Rex Mitchell had been an ornery bastard at times, but he’d had a heart bigger than most and believed in rewarding hard work. And he’d loved his daughter, who had repaid him for that love by walking away from him without a backward glance. Sure, he’d tried to control Piper, but she’d been headstrong and needed a firm hand to guide her. For all the good that had done any of them.

Wade joined the throng in the ballroom of the stately home that was as much a part of Auckland’s history as the families who had lived within its walls. He carried on, going through the motions, accepting messages of condolence, sharing stories that brought bittersweet smiles to everyone there. Finally, though, it all had to end and he was alone. Alone except for the Dexters, still clearing away glassware and dishes, and for the woman who’d remained upstairs.

Just when would she show her face again? he thought. Well, he wasn’t in a hurry to force a confrontation. The outcome was bound to be less than pleasant.

He crossed the hall into the library, and made his way straight to the sideboard. The cognac gurgled satisfyingly from the neck of its bottle, the amber liquid splashing within the bowl of its receptor. Continuing the ritual he had enjoyed most evenings—before Rex’s illness had left him weak and bed bound—Wade settled into the wingback chair beside the fire and lifted the glass in a silent toast to the empty chair on the other side.

“I see you couldn’t wait to hit Dad’s cognac.”

Wade stiffened at the sound of Piper’s voice from the entrance but he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of knowing how much she got under his skin with her choice of words. She, better than anyone, knew how he felt about alcohol and its disrespectful consumption.

“Care to join me?” he drawled in response, not even bothering to turn his face toward her.

“Sure, why not.”

He heard her pour herself a measure then move across the hand-knotted carpet that covered the floor between them. With a tired sigh she settled into the chair that had been her father’s. The fresh clean scents of soap and a light fragrance teased his nostrils. He cast her a glance. She’d showered and changed into a clean pair of jeans and a finely woven sweater. Beneath the fabric he could make out the lines of her bones. Even her face was more angular now. Harder, more experienced. A far cry from the spoiled young woman who’d taken his heart and crushed it beneath the soles of her feet when she’d walked out eight years ago.

“I can’t believe he’s really gone,” she said softly.

He knew what she meant. Even he’d found it hard to face facts when Rex had handed the business reins over to him eighteen months ago. And before that, when Rex had negotiated the sale of his ancestral home to Wade to prevent it from sliding into a developer’s hands after his death.

“Yeah, well, he is.”

“I never thought he’d die.”

“Neither did he, at first. The success rate for beating testicular cancer was in his favor.”

“Cancer? I thought he died of a heart attack.”

“What made you think that?”

“I don’t know. I had no idea he was sick. I just assumed it was his heart. He always worked so hard.”

Wade watched as her eyes washed with tears. He hadn’t agreed with Rex’s decision to withhold the details of his illness on the rare occasions Piper had made telephone contact. In recent months, the older man’s stubbornness on the matter had been the only contentious bone between them. Rex hadn’t believed Piper was strong enough to handle the stress of his illness, but with Piper as Rex’s only living issue, Wade knew Rex deserved to have her there in his final days. And Wade hadn’t really given a damn if she was strong enough for it or not.

Piper continued, “I’d have come home sooner had I known.”

“Maybe that’s part of why he didn’t tell you,” Wade retorted, her words just adding fuel to his frustration. She hadn’t seen fit to share those last years of her father’s life with him. Was it supposed to pacify Wade that she’d have been willing to come for Rex’s death?

She bristled under his words, her eyes clearing instantly and the tears being swiftly replaced with a spark of anger.

“What do you mean by that?” Piper demanded.

“Exactly what I said. You know what your father was like. I’m not denying he wanted you home. He wanted that every day you were gone. But I think that deep down he still wanted you to come home because you wanted to, not because you had to.”

“So you’re saying I disappointed him—again.” Her words were as defensive as the closed expression now on her face.

“Don’t put words in my mouth, Piper.” He expelled a frustrated huff of air, refusing to rise to her bait, and transferred his gaze to the fireplace. “Above everything, Rex always wanted to shelter you from the big bad world. In this last instance, that included his illness. He didn’t want to put you through everything he was going through. Besides, it’s all relative now, isn’t it?”

“I think it’s safe to say that we can take my father’s continuing disappointment in me as a given,” she said bitterly before taking a sip of her drink. “You, however, have remained the golden boy.”

Piper fought back the urge to scream at Wade, to do something, anything to provoke him into a fight. After all, they’d had quite enough practice at it in their time together. It had always been that way between them. Passions running high, emotions deep. All of it crashing madly on the surface. A fight was something she could handle.

What she couldn’t handle was the irrefutable truth that she’d never see her father again—never hear his booming voice through the home that had been in her family for generations, never feel the warmth of his arms clasping her to his barrel chest. The gaping hole that had taken up residence somewhere near her heart widened.

She would never have the chance to make it up to him for all the stress and emotional hardship she’d caused ever since, at the age of fourteen, she’d realized the power of her femininity. She knew he’d been sorry to see her leave for overseas shortly after she’d turned twenty, but she’d have been an idiot not to realize that his sorrow was tempered with relief at not having to deal with her, at times, appalling behavior in close quarters anymore.

Piper put down her glass on the small side table and pulled up her feet onto the seat, her knees tucked under her chin and her arms wrapped around her lower legs. How could he have kept his illness a secret from her like that? She’d had a right to know. He’d sounded tired the last time she’d called. When was that? Maybe three months ago? He should have told her.

A shaft of jealousy speared through her. He’d obviously shared everything with Wade. The two men had been close ever since Rex had taken on Wade as an intern at his export company. Wade had quickly become the son Rex had never had. The mythical son she’d never measured up to as Rex’s only child.

She’d envied their closeness and done her level best to disrupt it—failing miserably in the process and irrevocably hurting the only two men she’d ever loved.

She hazarded a look at the man seated opposite her and felt that old familiar punch of desire. Even with that glowering expression on his face, he still had the power to make her nerves hum and her heart skip a beat. He’d certainly grown up since she’d been away. His face had settled into far more serious lines, and there was an edge to his jaw that the beginnings of a five o’clock shadow only enhanced. He filled out his designer suit with more breadth than he’d had before—it looked good on him. Clearly hard work and good living had served him well.

She flicked a glance to his left hand—no sign of a ring she noted—then castigated herself for even caring. He’d made his antipathy toward her quite clear. Besides, the new Piper Mitchell had determined to make amends for her past transgressions. Transgressions that included how she’d treated Wade, how she’d let her love for him make her selfish, demanding—wanting more from him than he was willing to give. She was so sorry now for the way she’d behaved, the choice she’d forced him to make between her and her father. Those amends needed to start now.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I know how much Dad meant to you, how close the two of you were. It must have been tough for you.”

Wade looked at her, genuine surprise on his face. “Thank you,” he answered.

There were fine lines of strain around his slate gray eyes that had never been there before. He looked thoroughly worn out.

“Did he suffer?”

Wade shook his head sharply. “Only inasmuch as he couldn’t do what he wanted to do. The medical staff worked hard to keep him comfortable. He stayed here, at home, right to the end. We installed a hospital bed in the morning room and he had round-the-clock professional care.”

“Thank you for being there for him.”

“He’d have done it for me,” Wade answered simply. “Besides, there was no place else I would rather have been.”

And there it was again. The subtle slap. The reminder that she hadn’t been there. Piper clamped down on her instinctive need to justify herself, her choices, her behavior. She was past that now. There was no way she could turn back time and rewrite history, but she could make a new beginning and that started here and now.

“I’m really grateful to know that he had you there. It must have meant a lot him. He always respected you.”

“The feeling was mutual.”

“So what happens now with the company?”

“What do you mean?” Wade looked surprised that she’d even asked.

“Well, you know, without Dad at the helm. Will everything be okay?”

“Yes, everything will be fine. Rex and I had a stable management plan in place before we knew he wasn’t going to beat the cancer. I basically took over operations about a year and a half ago.”

“Really?” Piper was surprised. “He let go that early?”

“It was a case of having to. The treatments, both here and overseas, left him pretty wiped out. But he maintained a keen interest in everything almost until the end. You know what Rex was like.”

And where had she been a year and a half ago? Somalia? No, Kenya. She’d been helping at a women’s clinic there. After that had been flood relief in Asia, then volunteering to help reconnect victims with their families after an earthquake in another devastated land. Everywhere but where she’d really needed to be. The one place where she should have made a difference.

Piper was suddenly hit with a massive weariness. She fought back a yawn and failed miserably.

“Still tired?” Wade asked.

“Yeah, when I got here I’d been traveling for about thirty-six hours. I don’t think my body clock has caught up with the fact that I’m stationary yet.”

“Why don’t you go on up to your room? I’ll get Mrs. Dexter to bring you a tray if you’re hungry.”

Despite all her good intentions, Piper bristled. This was her home, so who’d appointed him to the role of gracious host? If anything she should be offering him her hospitality under her father’s roof. Reminding herself of her determination to be a better person, she swallowed the retort that hovered on the tip of her tongue. Instead she unfolded herself from the chair and stood up.

“Don’t bother Dexie. I’ll grab something from the kitchen on my way up.”

She stretched slowly, easing out muscles that had been unused for far too long with all the travel she’d endured. She halted midstretch, suddenly aware of Wade’s eyes locked onto her body. A long-suppressed, yet still familiar, tingle started deep inside and tendrils of heat began to unfurl from her core, radiating out to her extremities. She swallowed against the lump of tension that formed in her throat.

That old attraction was still there. Just as strong as ever. Did he feel the same way, too? Her eyes met his—for a moment seeing the same heat that had infused her body and now painted a faint flush against her suddenly warm cheeks. Then in an instant his eyes were the cool gray of indifference that had met her at the front door only a couple hours ago.

Stung by the clear rejection, Piper summoned every last ounce of dignity and offered him her hand.

“Thank you for everything you’ve done today.”

Wade stood, his six feet two inches eclipsing her barefooted five feet eight. He took her hand in a brief clasp.

“I did it for Rex.”

“I know that, and I appreciate it. Really.”

He let go her hand as if the idea of holding it for a moment longer than necessary was abhorrent to him.

“Well,” she said, gathering courage to her like a cloak, “I’ll see you out and then I think I’ll have an early night. No doubt I’ll have plenty to do with the legal side of things tomorrow.”

When Wade didn’t make a move for the door, she speared him with a glance. “Is there something else you wanted to discuss?”

A slow smile, somewhat lacking in humor, spread across his handsome face.

“No,” he replied. “I’ll say good-night, then.”

She watched as he left the room, but rather than heading toward the front vestibule he turned and made for the sweeping staircase that led to the upper floor.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“To my room.”

“To your room?”

His response was short and sweet. “I live here.”

“Look, I appreciate that you probably stayed here for a while with Dad but that’s not necessary now and, quite frankly, I’d really appreciate a bit of space and privacy to come to terms with everything.”

“No problem. You’re welcome to stay as long as you need to.”

His answer left her baffled. “I beg your pardon?”

“I think you heard me, Piper. Despite your current appearance I’m sure you’re not entirely stupid.”

“How dare you!”

Better person be damned. That was quite enough. She’d already had to bear facing Wade for the first time since she had left him, not to mention hearing the news about her father’s death. She wasn’t about to stay and listen to him put her down, too.

“Look,” she sputtered. “I think we both know there’s enough history between us that your staying here is not a good idea.”

“Probably.” He shrugged. “But I think you may have misunderstood what I meant when I said I live here. Piper, I own the house. You’re here as my guest.”

Two

“You what?”

He owned the house? How could that be? The house had been built by her forebears in the mid-1800s. Passed on, generation by generation. Had Wade somehow finagled the property from her father while he was weakened by his illness? It seemed unlike him, but what else was she to think? His voice broke through her chaotic thoughts.

“Look, now probably isn’t the best time to go into it. It’s been a tough day all round. We can discuss this tomorrow.”

“Like hell,” she countered. “We can darn well discuss this right here, right now.”

“If you insist,” Wade said, closing the distance between them and gesturing toward the library. “Care to take a seat?”

With tension vibrating through every nerve in her body, Piper preceded him back into the room. She threw herself into the chair she’d only recently vacated, watching Wade as he lowered himself into his with far more elegance and grace than she’d exhibited. It only served to rankle even more.

“So, tell me. How is it you’ve come to be the owner of my father’s house, and his before him, and his bef—”

Wade cut in. “Don’t get melodramatic on me, Piper. It won’t work.”

Melodramatic? He thought that was melodramatic? That was nothing compared to how she felt right now. But before she could speak again, Wade continued.

“Your father and I came to a financial arrangement early on in his illness. The doctors here could offer little hope and he wanted to embark on some radical alternative therapy being offered overseas.”

“What kind of arrangement?” she demanded. “And why on earth did he have to come to any kind of arrangement, anyway? Our family has always had money.”

“Had being the operative word,” Wade said, lifting his eyes to clash with hers.

“What? You’re blaming me? I have my own trust fund. I was never a drain on my father’s finances.”

Wade’s lips thinned and she saw a muscle clench in his jaw before he pushed a hand through his dark brown hair, sending the short cut into charming disarray. Despite her anger, her fingers itched to smooth his hair down—to feel if its texture was as smooth as she remembered it to be. Piper curled her fingers into her palms and squeezed tightly, ridding herself of the urge as quickly as it had surfaced. This wasn’t the time to be thinking of any kind of touching.

“Not everything is about you, Piper. When you calm down, you’ll see that what we did was supposed to be for the best, at the time.”

“At the time? Explain it to me.”

“Rex was single-minded about beating the disease and wouldn’t take no for an answer, not even when his situation was very clearly laid out to him by his doctors. He was determined to fight, regardless of the cost—and the cost was very high. I’ve no idea what rock you’ve been hiding under for the past eight years but there has been a global recession out there. Our business was hit just as hard as everyone else’s. Despite everything, there was a stage where we were bleeding money and Rex used a lot of his own funds to shore that up.”

“You didn’t use yours?” she asked pointedly.

“He wouldn’t let me. Mitchell Exports was always his baby, you know that.”

She probably knew it better than anyone. She’d always known that Rex’s devotion to his business came well before his devotion to her.

“So he needed money for this treatment?” she probed.

“Yes, and he wouldn’t take the money from me, even though I offered it freely. He was, however, happy to enter into a loan agreement with me, registering a mortgage in my name over the property.”

“But this place is worth millions.”

“He was very determined to live, Piper. He was prepared to pay whatever it took to beat the disease. At that stage, he never believed for a minute that he wouldn’t live to pay me back.”

“And he knew you already loved the property and would look after it.”

Wade nodded slowly. “It was a more palatable solution for him than putting it on the open market to raise the funds, and seeing the land be gobbled up by developers, or risking borrowing the money through some financial institution and watching it go in a mortgagee sale if the treatment failed. When he knew he was going to die, he signed the property over to me in its entirety, provided he had a lifetime right to stay here. I had no problem with that.”

Piper blinked back a new rush of tears. What Wade had said all sounded plausible. She knew how much her father had trusted Wade. Moreover, she knew—just as her father had known—how hard Wade’s upbringing had been, how much he had wanted to prove he was better than his roots. If he’d been given the chance to demonstrate his friendship to Rex while simultaneously establishing himself in both the home and the business he’d always admired, then of course Wade had taken it. He was right to have taken it. But knowing that didn’t take away the sick sense of loss Piper felt at the evidence that her father had given his entire legacy away to someone other than her.

If she’d been more determined to prove to her father that she was just as good as the son he’d always dreamed of having, if she’d stood by his side through the hard times instead of running away as soon as she didn’t get her way, maybe she’d have been able to help him. But with her having remained overseas for as long as she had, often without any contact until she’d run out of money, again, and needed another advance from her funds, it was no wonder her father had sought a suitable custodian not only for his business but also for the house.

It didn’t make it hurt any less, though. She’d never known another home and now she couldn’t even call it hers anymore. Hopelessness hit her with a vengeance. Here she was, twenty-eight years old, no fixed abode, no job and no prospects. Sure, she still had her trust fund, but she didn’t want to dip into that unless absolutely necessary. What on earth was she going to do?

“I meant what I said before, Piper,” Wade said, his voice breaking into her tortured thoughts. “Rex asked me to look out for you. You’re welcome to stay as long as you need to.”

As long as she needed? How was she to know how long that was? She’d come back to New Zealand, back home, to restore the relationships she’d damaged so very badly with her selfish decisions and past behaviors. The past four years, volunteering with aid relief in less privileged countries, had been a major eye-opener. One that had systematically changed her focus and made her realize just how empty her life had been and how much she continued to owe the people who’d been a part of it. People who she’d only later realized had tried to give her the love and stability she’d always craved. People she’d cast off in her anger and hurt for not loving her the way she’d wanted, oblivious to the fact that she was hurting them with her actions, too. People like her father, and Wade. “Thank you,” she said softly.

What else was there to say? She was at his mercy. He had every right to turn her out of the house.

“If there’s nothing else, I’ll say good-night,” Wade answered.

He rose from his seat and started to leave the room, hesitating a moment at the door as if he had something more to say. But then, with an almost imperceptible shake of his head, he continued into the hallway.

Around her, Piper heard the wooden timbers of the hundred-and-sixty-year-old home settle in the cooling night air. A sound she’d never even stopped to listen to before, yet a sound that was a solid reminder of all who’d been before her and left their mark on her world. Their expectations lay heavy in the atmosphere that filled the room. What mark had she left?

The emptiness around her invaded the hollows of her body and echoed through to her soul.

Nothing. She’d left nothing.

She drew a shaky breath deep into her lungs. Then another. She’d made a conscious choice to change her life. No one ever said it was going to be easy or that she’d have all the things at her disposal that she’d always taken for granted. Maybe this was one of the lessons she needed to learn along the way. Take nothing, and no one, for granted.

Piper moved down the hallway, her bare feet making no sound on the faded carpet runner that lined the polished wooden floor. She hesitated outside the morning room, unsure of what she’d find there. What remnants of her father’s illness and care from during his last days would linger? And what of the hospital bed and equipment Wade had said they’d set up in here?

She wasn’t surprised he’d chosen this room. It had purportedly been her mother’s favorite. Not that she remembered her mother beyond a vague sense of being enveloped in soft arms and being showered with butterfly kisses. Sometimes, as a child, she’d come in here and curl up on a chair with her eyes shut tight—trying to gain a sense of the woman who’d borne her. But try as she might, she had never felt any more than that elusive memory.

Her hand hovered over the brass doorknob until with a sudden resolution, she closed her fingers around the cold metal and gave it a twist. The door swung open before her revealing a room unchanged from the last time she’d seen it.

The chaise longue still resided in front of the French doors that opened onto the wraparound veranda. The side tables and comfortable furniture she remembered as far back as her childhood were all still there.

She sniffed the air carefully. No, not a hint of hospital or illness, or death, remained. It was as if her father had never been in here at all.

A solid lump of grief built in her throat as she stepped back and closed the door again. She desperately wanted some connection with him. Some proof that despite everything he’d still loved her.

Noises from the kitchen at the back of the house reminded her that Dexter and his wife were hard at work cleaning up after her father’s wake. She should go to them. Offer to help. But the need to be alone with her thoughts was stronger. She turned and made her way back along the hallway and then up the stairs that led to the bedrooms on the next floor.

Rex’s room had been at the opposite side of the house from hers. When her mother had died when Piper was three, he’d hired a nanny who’d slept in the room next to hers. But he’d kept his distance for many years, physically, emotionally and socially. It was only when she’d begun to bring certificates of achievement home from school that he’d really begun to acknowledge her existence, spurring her to do better, reach higher—whatever it took to garner his approval.

But that approval was always short-lived as his work took the bulk of his attention. She’d always wanted for him to see her as more than a child to be spoiled, her every whim indulged. She’d wanted him to acknowledge that she had a brain, that she could achieve, even that she might be worthy one day of working with him in the family business as he would have expected a son to do. Instead, no matter how high she flew academically, it was as if her achievements never really mattered to him. After that, behaving like the spoiled little princess he expected had become second nature—in fact, she’d almost turned it into an art form. For all the good it did her.

Piper bypassed her own room and headed toward the rooms that had been his. The door to his suite was open. She stepped into her father’s domain and was instantly enveloped by his personality. The room was neat and tidy, typical of the ordered way he’d liked things, but here and there were the memories she’d always associated with him. The books he had loved to read, the sweets he had kept in a porcelain jar beside the bed for “just in case.”

Pulling open his wardrobe, Piper was assailed with the faint reminder of the cologne he’d always worn. She reached for the dressing gown that hung on the hook on the back of the door and dragged it to her, burying her face in the velvet softness of the fabric and inhaling deeply.

“Is everything okay?”

She spun around to see Wade framed in the doorway, the light from the hall behind him, leaving his face in shadow. He looked as if he was in the process of getting undressed. Gone were his jacket and tie. His shirt buttons were now open halfway down his chest, his shirt untucked from the sharply creased trousers that encased his long legs, the cuffs undone and loose around his strong wrists.

Longing for what-might-have-been hit her in a surge of confused emotion. She shook her head slightly, trying to dislodge the sensations that clouded her mind. Comfort. She craved comfort, that most basic of needs. But she could no more ask that of Wade than she could ask for the moon, not after what had happened between them. Not when she still had so much making up to do. So much to prove—to him and to herself.

“I’m fine. Just …” What? It was impossible to put into words. Instead she settled for the benign. “I miss him. Why didn’t he give me the chance to come back earlier and say goodbye?”

In the doorway, Wade shifted on his feet. She sensed there was more he wanted to say but that he was holding back.

“Like I said before, he didn’t want you to have to go through it all. To have to watch him deteriorate. Maybe it was a bit of pride, too, wanting you to remember him as he was when you left rather than when he was so ill.”

“He never really expected me to come back, did he?”

Wade shook his head slightly. “No, I don’t think he ever did. Didn’t stop him wanting you here, though.”

The light from the hall shone into the room, bathing Piper in a stream of golden light. She looked so vulnerable there, holding her father’s robe to her as if it was some form of security blanket. As if it was the last remaining thing she had left in the world. Well, truth be told, it pretty much was. Still, she didn’t need to know that now. Time enough for that. Even he could see she was struggling with the reality of Rex’s death. Hell, he’d been here, through it all, and he still struggled.

He clamped down on the sympathy that came as naturally to him as breathing. The past few days he’d doled out his fair share to Rex’s friends and business associates. Offering solace to Piper should have been just one more drop in the bucket. But, he reminded himself, she’d made choices that made it difficult to dredge up any consolation for her. One choice in particular he could never forgive was that she’d chosen to end the life they’d created together before he’d ever known it had existed. He’d sworn she’d pay dearly for that choice. She owed him now in ways she couldn’t begin to imagine.

Even with that mental reminder, his hands itched to reach out to her, to touch her, comfort her. He’d been so in love with her once, and as angry as he still was with Piper, those old instincts dominated. Wade curled his hands into fists and thrust them inside his trouser pockets lest he give into them. He had no doubt she’d take what he offered—before throwing it right back in his face all over again.

She’d made it monumentally clear during their last bitter and very final argument, before she went overseas, that she needed nothing from him. Even her demeanor downstairs when she’d joined him in the library had been targeted to make him feel inferior, an outsider.

He leaned against the doorjamb, marshaling his thoughts and reminding himself that her vulnerability was little more than a facade. Piper Mitchell was more than capable of handling herself in any situation. She’d suckered him in once before and he’d vowed he would not be a fool twice over her.

He shook his head slightly to clear his mind of the errant thought. He’d been under a lot of pressure. That was all. He just needed time to get his bearings again, to sort through what still needed to be done about Rex’s estate and to put a lid on his grief until it no longer had the capacity to render him weak, or open to confusing thoughts about Piper.

Wade cleared the thickness in his throat and took one hand from his pocket and gestured toward the room.

“I’ve been charged with clearing out your father’s things. Do you want to help with that?”

She nodded, a mere incline of her head. The action typical Piper, too wrapped up in her own thoughts to give anyone her full attention. But in the gloom he heard a noise that sounded suspiciously like a choked sob.

“Look, it’s been a tough day,” he continued. “Why don’t you head off to bed? There’s no hurry with your dad’s things.”

“Okay, but don’t get rid of anything before I can see it.”

Ah, so despite that faint wobble in her voice she was back to giving orders. That hadn’t taken long. “Sure,” he said, denuding his voice of its last threads of empathy. “By the way, I have an appointment with Rex’s lawyers in the morning for the official reading of the will—you should come along. I’m already conversant with its contents but you should probably take the opportunity to find out exactly how you’re placed.”

She nodded. “Sounds like a good idea.”

Wade stepped aside as she approached, but Piper’s foot caught on the edge of the carpet square, making her stagger. Instinctively, as he had already done once today, he put out a hand to steady her, shifting his body to block her fall. Again, her weight bore against him, seeking support. She looked up at him, her eyes dull with sorrow.

“Thank you. I’m going to have to stop making a habit of this, aren’t I?”

“Might be an idea,” he conceded, even as his body warmed instantly to the feel of her.

He put his hands to her shoulders. It would be so easy to attempt to recapture that old spark simply by lowering his mouth to hers. Her lips were already parted on a hitched breath, their softness moist and enticing. Her pupils rapidly consuming the pale color of her irises.

The firm roundness of her breasts pressed against his chest and his body surged to aching life. Wade silently cursed himself for being all kinds of a fool. His hunger had been tamped down and controlled for far, far too long. Beneath his hands her body stiffened, freezing in response to his very obvious physical reaction to her nearness.

His hands tightened, his breath catching in his chest as he fought his demons. She had always been temptation incarnate. But he was stronger now. Stronger and more determined to succeed—in all things.

Even though his entire body pulsed with wanting her—wanting to push aside the shabby clothing she wore and to rediscover the creamy smoothness of her skin, the warm recesses of her body that held incalculable delight—he pushed her gently from him. It was sobering to realize that passion had threatened, albeit briefly, to blot out his every reasonable thought.

Piper pulled farther back, her arms still wrapped around that damn robe. It occurred to him that throughout their entire embrace, she hadn’t voluntarily touched him with any part of her body. He shoved one hand through his hair.

“So, until tomorrow then?” she said, the lightness in her voice sounding forced in the heavily charged air between them.

“Tomorrow?”

“The lawyer? What time should I be ready?”

“The appointment isn’t until midmorning. No need to rush.”

“Okay, I’ll probably see you at breakfast, then.”

She slipped past him and down the hall to her room. He watched her every step—the graceful posture, the gentle sway of her hips.

They said that revenge was a dish best served cold, but he preferred his steaming hot. Hot and sexy and totally satisfying on all counts. He would be vindicated. And, when the time was right, he would savor every moment.

In her room, Piper sat heavily onto her bed and raised her fingers to her lips. She’d been so sure he was going to kiss her. She’d have almost staked her life on it. The flare of desire in his eyes had been so endearingly familiar that it had shaken her to her core—had awakened her senses, her own needs—in a way she hadn’t experienced for a very long time.

She knew he’d wanted her—she’d felt the undeniable evidence against her. So what had made him stop? One minute he’d been conciliatory, the next cool and commanding and then he’d been on fire for her. A fire she’d all-too-readily reciprocated. Even now, her skin felt too tight. Her nerve endings too close to the surface. She pushed up from the bed and paced her room, suddenly filled with an excess of energy that begged for some form of release.

Who was she kidding? She knew exactly what form of release she craved. And with whom. But it wasn’t going to happen. Wade had always had the power to turn her inside out, right from the first time she’d laid eyes on him. The instant physical attraction had rapidly morphed into one that went infinitely deeper. She had no doubt they would be as compatible now as they’d been before, but she couldn’t allow herself to go down that path. It would undoubtedly lead to broken promises and broken hearts all over again and she had resolved to put things right when she came home. Put things right and prove herself to be the kind of person she most wanted to be. Not the selfish creature of the past who sought satisfaction for her every desire, but someone who could genuinely contribute to the world in which she lived and moved.

It hurt deep, deep down that she’d never be able to prove to her father that she was capable of being more than what he’d pigeonholed her to be. What she’d shamefully allowed herself to become in the face of his opposition to her gaining a career that could amount to something. He’d loved her, but he’d never had any understanding or appreciation for the person she had the potential to be. It was too late to show him otherwise. But she could prove it to herself.

She shook her head. How was she ever going to prove herself if she couldn’t control even her most basic urges around Wade?

Piper stopped pacing in front of the built-in bookcase that lined one wall of her room. It was still adorned with the things she’d grown up with. Her previous life had been sealed in a time capsule, waiting for her return. She looked around, seeing everything with new eyes.

Her gaze stopped on one of the collections of porcelain dolls her father had insisted on buying for her, but had never let her play with. What a perfect analogy for her life, she thought bitterly. Look but don’t touch. Learn, but whatever you do, don’t use that knowledge. Be beautiful, but don’t actually be anything.

She drew in a deep breath and squared her shoulders. Well, all that was going to change. As much as she’d loved her father, and had strived for his attention, she could see that they were equally to blame for her past behavior. But she had changed and she planned to continue to change and grow a whole lot more. Including going back to university and finishing her degree.

It had taken quite a bit to make her eventually grow up. Being overseas alone, facing her darkest days and subsequently her brightest moments as she’d reawakened to who she needed to be.

Still, she had to attend to her father’s estate first, and that meant getting up on time to see the lawyer tomorrow morning, which in turn meant getting a decent night’s sleep.

She went through the motions of getting ready for bed, finding solace in routine and joy in the things she used to take so much for granted. Simple things, like a tube of toothpaste, running water from a tap, a flush toilet. She laughed at her reflection in the mirror. Who’d have thought that Piper Mitchell would ever have been reduced to this? Finding joy in modern plumbing. Frankly, she didn’t care, not anymore.

The toll of the news she’d borne today, and the travel she’d undertaken to get here, swamped her and the lure of fresh clean sheets and a proper bed became stronger than she could resist.

The next morning, Piper woke as the sun began to filter through her window. To her surprise she had tears on her cheeks and her pillow was damp beneath her face. She’d been dreaming about her father and the sense of forever being left reaching out for him, yet not being accepted by him, still filled her. She swiped a hand across her face. Tears wouldn’t solve anything, she knew that with an entrenched awareness she’d learned the hard way. No matter the loss, you had to learn to get through it.

She rolled to the other side of her bed and stretched, luxuriating in the sensation of fine cotton sheeting against her bare skin. Her father’s robe was spread over the top of her bed and she grabbed it to her, pulling it on as she sat up and slipped from between the sheets to make her way into the adjoining bathroom.

Eschewing a shower for the decadence of a deep bath, she bent over and turned on the faucets. Watching the water fill in the ancient claw-footed tub gave her an illicit sense of pleasure. She would never take something like this for granted again. Despite everything that had happened since her return, it was so incredibly good to be home.

Hard on the heels of that thought came the reminder that the house was no longer her home. She was a guest here. Wade’s guest. The news had come as a shock last night and her reaction had been instinctive and out of sorts with her new resolve. She hoped that would be the last unpleasant surprise she’d have to bear.

She was in a painfully tenuous situation. She had no qualifications to speak of, unless bartering with local rebels or militia for medical supplies and trading with cash from her trust fund was anything worth mentioning. Nor did she now have a roof over her head to call her own.

Piper slipped the robe off her shoulders and, letting it drop to the floor behind her, stepped into the almost full bath. She sank into the water, letting its warmth seep into her skin all the way through to her bones. After the heat of some of the countries she’d lived in, she didn’t think she’d still crave warmth the way she did now. But with her father dead and her prospects perched on a very precarious ledge, the world around her felt very cold indeed.

Piper let her hair fall over the back of the bath and rested her head against the edge, closing her eyes and trying to concentrate only on the warmth and softness of the water enclosing her body. She’d found the exercise of isolating herself to be an invaluable tool in coping with some of the hardships she’d witnessed in the past few years, but for some reason she couldn’t find quite the degree of separation she needed now.

Where she was going to live, how she was to support herself, all took precedence over her relaxation ritual. It wasn’t as if she didn’t still have the trust fund her mother had left her, she rationalized. Her father had been angry with her when she’d gone overseas, especially when she’d tried to get between him and Wade, but he hadn’t cut her off completely. Whenever she’d applied for an advance from the funds she’d come into when she’d turned eighteen, the money had duly appeared wherever she’d needed it. By her reckoning she should still have sufficient capital left to get herself on her feet, certainly enough to finish the degree she’d partially completed before running away.

She grimaced. Running away sounded so infantile. And yet, her reactions had been those of a spoiled brat. She wasn’t proud of the person she’d been then. Not at all. But that was changing. Slowly, surely and in the right direction. And with the balance of her funds behind her, the rest would be a piece of cake.

She felt a pang of grief tug deep inside her. How she wished her father was still alive. Maybe he could finally have been proud of her, really proud. She missed him with a sorrow that went soul-deep. When she’d set out on the journey home, she’d been looking forward to seeing him again. She’d hoped with all her heart that today could be the first stage of a new relationship with her dad. One where he would finally see who she was and what she was capable of.

Well, she still hovered at the edge of that first stage. One she’d have to embark on for herself, not for anyone else. It was what she should have realized all along.

Piper pulled the plug on the bath and stepped out as the water swirled down the drain with a satisfying gurgle. She shook her head at the decadence of it. It would make better sense to find some way to utilize the waste water from this sort of thing on the property. Maybe she could make some suggestions to Wade and see what he thought. He’d probably have a hard time believing she could even care about something like waste water.

Piper dried herself off and padded naked into her bedroom. She extracted some clean underwear from her drawer, a small puzzled frown fracturing her brow when she couldn’t find the stuff she’d brought in her backpack. The pack itself had been emptied at some stage yesterday, its clothing contents now nowhere to be found. Maybe Mrs. Dexter had taken it all to be washed, she thought. She wondered what the housekeeper would think of the wardrobe that consisted mainly of jeans, camo-patterned trousers and an array of T-shirts that would probably better serve as polishing cloths than anything else.

She looked at the underwear she’d taken from the drawer. An exquisite shell pink, the matching bra and panties were a brand she’d never bought before, even though they were all in the size she’d worn before she went away. She slipped into the panties, thankful that at least they fit without threatening to fall off her hips, then adjusted the straps on the bra and started to put it on.

She turned and looked at herself in the mirror. She’d lost weight in recent years. Hard work and a limited diet had a way of doing that. The bra, while beautiful, was far too big for her, even on the tightest fitting. She could pad it up, she supposed, but then what if something slid free while she was wearing it? No, far better to go without, she decided and turned to her old wardrobe for something to wear.

A swimming sense of déjà vu enveloped her as she opened the doors. There, arranged by color and functionality, hung every article of clothing she’d failed to pack and take away with her. According to the dry cleaning tags on the garments, everything had been freshened recently. But why, when no one knew when she was coming home?

Piper selected the least flippant items and pulled on a pair of charcoal gray trousers with a neat matching jacket that used to nip in perfectly at her waist. Eight years ago, it had been form-fitting enough to wear without a top beneath it, but it certainly wasn’t now. She flicked through the hangers until she found a crisp white blouse to team with it.

An old belt threaded through the loops in her trousers cinched them in a little tighter at her waist, and when Piper pulled on the jacket and studied her appearance, she thought she’d scrubbed up quite well—aside from the hair. She grabbed a black and white long silk scarf from her dresser and tied her dreads into an approximation of a ponytail before nodding at her reflection. Well enough to see the lawyer, anyway.

Her feet had always been long and narrow and she pulled on a pair of stocking socks before pushing her feet into a slim fitting pair of black patent pumps. No longer used to the heels, she teetered a little before regaining her composure. How had she ever walked in these things on a daily basis? she wondered as she made her way down the stairs.

Wade wasn’t in the breakfast room, nor the kitchen, when she got downstairs.

“Looking for Mr. Collins?” Mrs. Dexter said with a smile as she bustled about pouring a fresh cup of tea and placing it at Piper’s old place at the huge worn kitchen table.

“Yes, we have an appointment together this morning.”

“He had to get away early to the office. Some problem or other. He said if he couldn’t get back on time, he’d send a car for you so you could still meet with Mr. Chadwick in his rooms.”

“Oh, thanks.”

Piper fought back the unreasonable feeling of disappointment that he wasn’t here. He had a business to run so she could hardly expect him to wait upon her hand and foot. Strangely, though, she had been looking forward to his approval that she’d made an effort to “scrub up,” for want of a better term. Which reminded her. Her clothes.

“Dexie, can you tell me what you did with my clothing from my backpack?”

“Oh, that lot.” Mrs. Dexter wrinkled up her nose in her rosy cheeked face. “I gave it all to Dexter to incinerate. Your father would never have stood for you dressing like that.”

Piper bit back the retort that her father hadn’t had the right to dictate her appearance for many years now. Swallowing the words she’d wanted to say didn’t come easy. Those items of clothing were virtually all she’d had to her name in the way of physical possessions. She’d come back here to take control of her life and yet, even in something as simple as her clothing, she’d been railroaded.

“Besides,” the older woman continued, “you have a wardrobe full of beautiful things to wear. I must say, lovey, it’s wonderful to see you looking more your old self. Apart from the hair, that is.”

A wry smile formed at Piper’s lips. “You don’t like it?” she teased.

“Humph, as if Mr. Mitchell would ever have tolerated such a thing.”

Piper’s smile died on her face. No, her father wouldn’t have tolerated it. He wouldn’t have understood the sheer practicality of wearing her hair this way in the circumstances in which she’d lived. Now she was home she supposed she’d better do something about it, but first there was the appointment today to get through.

“Get through” being the operative words, she realized later that day as her father’s lawyer sat opposite her at his highly polished desk, a sobering expression on his face.

“What do you mean I have no money?” she demanded. “When I left, my trust fund was healthy. It had been operating since my mother’s death, earning interest all the way. Surely I didn’t spend it all?”

“No, Miss Mitchell, you didn’t. But you didn’t exactly use the funds wisely, or reinvest, either, did you?”

It felt as if she’d been victimized from the instant she’d arrived home. First Wade, then Dexie’s disapproval, and now this.

“They were mine to use,” she said, a defensive note in her voice.

“Of course, of course.” The old man made a shushing sound in a vain attempt to placate her.

But Piper would not be placated.

“So where is it?”

“It?”

“The money,” she clarified, holding onto her temper by a thread.

“You know that with your father as a Trustee, the funds were managed very carefully. Over the years he frequently diversified the investments, but as you must be aware, financial markets worldwide have been hit very hard. Even investments that appeared to be sound suffered, and you subsequently lost some rather large sums.”

Piper shook her head. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Her father had always been the most prudent and cautious of investors.

“So, I have nothing?”

“I’m so very sorry.”

“But what about my father’s estate?”

“Miss Mitchell, what your father didn’t use to carry Mitchell Exports through some tough times, he used to fund alternative treatments for his illness. There really is very little left. The investment losses your fund endured hit him, also.”

Everything Wade had told her last night had been true. She wished she could blame him, hold him responsible for her father’s weak financial position at the time of his death, but it was clear Wade had conducted himself the same way he always had. With honor and loyalty to the man he revered above all others.

Mr. Chadwick continued, completely unaware of the turmoil in her mind. “I must say that Mr. Collins has been most benevolent. When he realized the situation your father was facing he personally acted to assist him. Rex was fortunate that Mr. Collins was compassionate enough to give him a lifetime right to reside in the house.”

The sick taste of bile rose in Piper’s throat.

Piper swallowed. “And my mother’s art collection? That should have been left to me in my father’s will. What has happened to that?”

At least if she had that, all was not lost. As much as she hated the idea of selling a single piece, she’d be able to liquidate some funds.

“All with Mr. Collins now. I understand the collection is on loan to the Sydney Art Gallery at the moment.”

“But it wasn’t my father’s to give. It was supposed to be mine.”

She fought to keep the panic from her voice. Without the collection, she really had nothing.

“Under the terms of your mother’s will, it was your father’s to dispose of at his discretion. While she stipulated her preference that it be given to you when you reached your majority, it was still left to your father to decide in the end. Some years ago, he mentioned to me that he had some concerns that you might feel compelled to break the collection up and he wanted to avoid that at all costs. Moreover, he wanted to be certain you were settled before entrusting it to you. In all fairness to your father, he honestly expected your trust fund to support you for your lifetime. Hardly anyone foresaw the long-term ramifications of the global financial crisis until it was too late.”

Piper slumped in the chair. Her life couldn’t get any worse, could it?

“There is one other thing,” the lawyer said carefully, making all the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

Piper sat up. She didn’t like the way he’d prefaced what was coming next. There was something in his posture and tone that warned her that what she’d learned already was small-fry compared to what was coming next.

“Tell me,” she demanded. She may as well get it straight on the chin now.

“Your trust fund. With your withdrawals and the depreciation of the investments’ value over time, it became overdrawn. Mr. Collins had taken charge of your father’s affairs by that point, and personally advanced money to the fund to cover the shortfall when he was made aware of the situation.”

“Just how much money did he advance?”

The lawyer named a sum that caused black spots to swim before her eyes.

“So you’re saying he advanced several hundred thousand dollars to my trust fund?”

Wade had been the one responsible for the money she’d used to finance schools and health clinics, food and clothing and farm supplies in the counties she’d visited in the past four years? She was struck with an urgent need to understand the conditions of the loan and expressed as much to Mr. Chadwick.

“The loans were rather open-ended. As your trustee, your father entered into deeds acknowledging the debt between the fund and Mr. Collins. Obviously Mr. Collins has the right to recall those loans, with interest, at any time.”

“So no repayments have been made to date?”

“None, Mr. Collins hadn’t requested such repayment.”

“Not at all?”

She was confused. How could anyone afford to make such huge sums of money available like that and not expect something back in return?

“No, not at all.” Chadwick hesitated a moment, his mouth twisting into a moue of regret. “Until now.”

“Now?” she gasped. “He wants me to repay the debt now?”

“Yes, Miss Mitchell, I’m afraid so. And he has specified it must be repaid in full.”

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