slid her attention from the chair back to Gage and gave him a wry smile. “Leeann’s been generous enough to let me stay while I’m here. She and Meg are in the penthouse in town.”
“Do you have savings? I presume you won’t starve.”
She might not be wealthy by his standards, but who was? “I haven’t lived off my father since I left college and found my first freelance job overseas.”
He came closer and her center warmed as that lit match flickered and leapt high. It wasn’t the place—certainly not the time—and yet the burning physical response to his being near was automatic, a literal knee-jerk reaction. Did he have that effect on all women? The answer was obvious: no question about it.
“You really don’t care about the business, the house?” he asked, a curious light in his eyes.
That inner warmth wavered and fell away.
“My family, bar one, are gone. No, Gage, I don’t care about the money.”
Landing back in reality, all the pain fresh again in her mind, she crossed to the door. For more reasons than one, it was time to end this reunion.
“Thank you for making the trip. If you don’t mind, I think it’s best you leave now.”
Deep in thought—also ignoring her suggestion—he moved to the desk. “I’ll speak with my lawyer.”
Over a decade on and still he didn’t listen. “I just told you—”
“Not about the money. About your niece.”
She shut her eyes and groaned. “Please don’t.”
The last thing she needed was a Family Court judge bristling over the heavy-handed tactics of a multimillionaire who thought he could buy anyone and anything.
He eased a thigh over one corner of the desk and laced his hands between his long, clearly muscular legs. One dark eyebrow flexed. “What if it means getting custody of your niece?”
“Gage, please. This isn’t a game.”
But the steely look in his eyes said he was very serious.
He picked up a miniature globe and spun the sphere. Asia, Europe, America flew round in a blur of bright colors. “I must say, I’m not wholly convinced you’ll be happy giving up your lifestyle. God knows, I wouldn’t be.”
Self-righteous heat scorched her cheeks. “No problem for you.” Her smile was thin. “Stay single.”
His lips twitched as if she’d said something amusing. “I don’t see marriage as an issue, necessarily.” He set the globe down. “But children need a stable home life.”
“Then I suggest you be extra careful about contraception.”
The air between them condensed and crackled before he grinned and assured her, “Always.”
His hip slid off the desk and he drew up to his full intimidating height while Jenna remembered his mother—wiry hair, vacant expression, a vague smell of whiskey whenever she spoke. If Gage didn’t want the responsibility of having a family, she shouldn’t be surprised. He’d been sorely deprived of role models. Jenna’s own reasons for remaining single were something else entirely.
“We were talking about your niece,” he said in a meaningful tone. “I have a way to get you what you want.”
His cool eyes sparkled and she was reminded again of the lawless rebel she’d once known. Then, as now, he’d rippled with the promise of a thousand possibilities. At seventeen, almost eighteen, she’d been entranced by it.
Feeling that same tug, she leant further back against the doorjamb. “Just so we’re on the same page, kidnapping’s not an option.”
He didn’t crack a smile. “What I propose isn’t completely honest, but it’s far from a federal offence.”
Now she was intrigued.
Weighing the pros and cons, she searched his eyes and finally murmured, “I’m listening.”
“Wherever possible, judges like to comply with last wishes. But you are this baby’s blood relative.”
Her shoulders sagged. She’d been through all that. “Dad’s lawyer said that’s not enough. And the longer Meg stays with Leeann, the less likely the courts will be to uproot her.”
“But if you had a suitable place of your own, as well as the legal brains and money to push forward and make an immediate request…”
She frowned. Waited.
“And…”
“You need a secret weapon,” Gage said, “that will shoot you ahead in the guardianship stakes.”
“A miracle?”
The scar on his top lip curved up. “A husband.”
Two
“You’re suggesting I get married?” Jenna’s hand went to her forehead and she coughed out a laugh, a baffled sound. “I’m sorry. This is taking a moment to absorb but…what would my marrying accomplish?”
Gage’s gaze skimmed her shoulder-length dark-blond hair. The soft curl was pretty, but he preferred her hair long, framing a face he’d remembered as saucy, not tearstained.
“For a start,” he explained, “a marriage license would tell the court that you’re serious about settling down. It would also imply that the child would enjoy the benefits of having a father.”
He’d often wondered how different his life might have been had he known positive paternal guidance. Chances were he wouldn’t be absurdly rich. Then again, he wouldn’t have needed money as a substitute for other, less definable things. Things he’d once wanted to give Jenna but knew now he could never provide.
“Isn’t that rather drastic?” she asked.
Gage inhaled her perfume, a scent that reminded him of crushed berries—wild and sweet—then he cocked his head. “I thought these were drastic times.”
He looked at her expectantly, but her troubled gaze held far more suspicion than hope.
Hell’s fire, the last thing he wanted was Jenna’s distrust, even if he well understood it. Twelve years ago he’d vanished like a thief in the night. The time for excuses was long past. But he’d come here today with a plan to help make it up to her. Oh, not entirely—not even close. But maybe, hopefully, enough.
He had it on good authority that Darley Realty, the residential development company her father had founded twenty-five years ago, was in dire financial straits. Gage also knew that Jenna’s father had intended to change his will; in the event of his death, the vast majority of Raphael’s assets were to pass on to his daughters, not his wife. With Amy gone now, too, Gage had assumed Jenna would be the major beneficiary.
He’d come
