could bestow. Only time would tell if Amber herself would agree that Tabby had made the wisest decision on her behalf.
Amber hugged Tabby in the lift on the way up to Acheron’s apartment, the little girl clinging in reaction to Tabby’s increasing tension. Acheron stood poised in the far corner of the mirrored compartment, a comfortable six feet three inches of solid masculine detachment. Tabby studied him in growing frustration, noting the aloof quality in his gaze, the forbidding cool of his lean, strong face. He was so unemotional about everything that he infuriated her. Here she was awash with conflicting emotions, terrified she was doing the wrong thing, putting her feelings rather than Amber’s needs first...and whose fault was that? She had not doubted her ability to be a good mother until Acheron Dimitrakos crossed her path. Now she was facing the challenge of also surrendering her pride and her independence to meet his expectations.
‘I don’t think this is going to work,’ she told him helplessly. ‘We mix like oil and water.’
‘A meeting of true minds is not required,’ Ash imparted with sardonic bite. ‘Stop arguing about every little thing. That irritates me.’
‘A nanny is not a little thing. Who is she?’
‘A highly trained professional from a reputable source. I would not put the child at risk.’
His intense dark eyes challenged her, and she looked away, her cheeks burning, her mouth dry, her grip on Amber still a little tighter than it needed to be. For a split second she felt as though Amber were the only sure element left in the world that he was tearing apart and threatening to rebuild. He intimidated her, a truth that made her squirm. Yet he was willing to help her keep Amber, she reminded herself doggedly, and that should be her bottom line. Whatever it took she should bite the bullet and focus on the end game, not how bad it might feel getting there.
‘Won’t the sort of marriage you suggested be illegal?’ she heard herself ask him abruptly. ‘You know, a marriage that’s just a fake?’
‘Why would it be illegal?’ he countered with icy cool. ‘What goes on within any marriage is private.’
‘But our marriage would be an act of deception.’
‘You’re splitting hairs. No one would be harmed by the deception. The marriage would simply present us as a conventional couple keen to adopt.’
‘You’re hopelessly out of date. Lots of couples don’t get married these days,’ Tabby pointed out.
‘In my family we always get married when it comes to child-rearing,’ Acheron told her smoothly.
That’s right, remind me that I’m not from the same world! Tabby thought furiously, a flush of antagonism warming her face as embarrassment threatened to swallow her alive. Her parents had not been married and had probably never even thought of getting married to regularise her birth.
Her gaze strayed inexorably back to him until she connected with smoky dark deep-set eyes that made her tummy lurch and leap and heat rise in her pelvis. There was just something about him, she thought furiously, dragging her attention from him as the lift doors whirred open and she hastily stepped out into a hallway, something shockingly sexy and dangerous that broke through her defences. She did not understand how he could act like an unfeeling block of superior ice and still have that effect on her.
CHAPTER THREE
THE NANNY, COMPLETE with a uniform that suggested she belonged to the very highest echelon of qualified nannies, awaited Acheron and Tabby in the spacious hall of Acheron’s apartment and within minutes she had charmed Amber out of Tabby’s arms and borne her off.
‘Let’s go,’ Acheron urged impatiently. ‘We have a lot to accomplish.’
‘I don’t like shopping,’ Tabby breathed, literally cringing at the prospect of him paying for her clothes.
‘Neither do I. In fact, usually the closest I get to shopping with a woman is giving her a credit card,’ Acheron confided silkily. ‘But I don’t trust you to buy the right stuff.’
Mutinously silent as she slid back into the waiting limousine in the underground car park, Tabby shrugged a slight shoulder, determined not to battle with him when it was a battle she could not win. Even so, he could dress her up all he liked but it wouldn’t change the person she truly was. No, she would be sensible and look on the clothing as a necessary prop for their masquerade, another move in what already felt more like a game than reality because in no realistic dimension did a girl like her marry a guy as rich and good-looking as him.
A personal shopper awaited them at Harrods where, surprisingly enough, Acheron appeared to be in his element. Tabby did not attempt to impose her opinions and she hovered while Acheron pointed out what he liked and the correct size was lifted from the rail. She soon found herself in a changing cubicle with a heap of garments.
‘Come out,’ Ash instructed impatiently. ‘I want to see you in the pink dress.’
Suppressing a groan, Tabby snaked into the classy little cocktail frock, reached down to flip off her socks and walked barefoot out of the cubicle.
Acheron frowned as she came to a halt and he strolled round her, staring at her slight figure in surprise. ‘I didn’t realise you were so tiny.’
Tabby gnawed at her lower lip, knowing she had skipped too many meals in recent months, painfully aware that she was too thin and that what delicate curves she had possessed had shrunk along with any excess body fat. ‘I’m a lot stronger than I look,’ she said defensively.
Acheron studied her doll-like dimensions with unabashed interest, his narrowed gaze running from her fragile shoulders down to her pale slender legs. He could’ve easily lifted her with one hand. He liked curves on a woman yet there was an aesthetically pleasing aspect to the pure delicacy of her build. Her breasts barely made an indent in the bodice of the dress and her hips made no imprint at all. Yet with that tousled mane of long blonde hair highlighting her pale oval face and bright violet eyes, she looked unusual and extraordinarily appealing. He wondered if he would crush her in bed and then squashed that crazy thought dead because sex would naturally not be featuring in their agreement. As she turned away, he froze, taken aback by the sight of the colourful rose tattoo marring the pale skin of her left forearm.
‘That dress won’t do,’ Acheron told the assistant thinly. ‘She needs a dress with sleeves to cover that.’
Gooseflesh crept over Tabby’s exposed skin, and she clamped a hand over the skin marking she had forgotten about. Beneath her fingers she could feel the rougher skin of the scar tissue that the tattoo pretty much concealed from view, and her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach, remembered feelings of bitter pain and heartache gripping her in spite of the years that had passed since the wound was first inflicted. She had made the clear considered choice that she could live better with the tattoo than she could with that constant reminder of her wretched childhood catching her unawares every time she looked in the mirror. Of course, the skin ink wasn’t perfect because the skin surface beneath it was far from perfect and the tattooist had warned her of the fact in advance. As it was, the rose, albeit a little blurred in its lines, had done the job it was designed to do, hiding the scar and providing a burial place for the bad memories. Only very rarely did Tabby think about it.
‘How could you disfigure your body with that?’ Acheron demanded in a driven undertone, his revulsion unhidden.
‘It’s
