a few moments in silence. Such a strong face. A good face—and long, dark lashes that a girl would kill for. ‘Don’t you know any other women?’ she asked with a sympathetic, if disbelieving smile.
‘Not in England. And I can hardly ask any women of my acquaintance in the States to come all the way over here, give up their lives, for the sake of my niece, can I?’
‘Perhaps not.’ In an attempt to lighten his mood, she teased, ‘And what on earth makes you think that I might make you a good wife?’
He looked up, held her eyes with his. ‘Because you’re fun, and gentle—and you don’t bore me.’
‘Didn’t,’ she corrected. ‘I might have changed.’
‘And have you?’
She smiled, shook her head. ‘I don’t think so. I’m still erratic, scatty...’
‘Warm, friendly,’ he put in. ‘We lived in pretty close proximity in Romania without coming to blows.’
‘True,’ she agreed with a smile as she remembered the spartan accommodation, the shared meals. ‘Have you been back?’
He shook his head. ‘You?’
‘I drove over at Christmas to take some bits and pieces.’ Searching his face, she asked kindly. ‘What will you do?’
‘I don’t know.’ Summoning up another smile, he murmured, ‘I’d better go. You’ll want to close up.’
‘It doesn’t matter. Stay if it helps.’
‘Thanks, but... It’s odd,’ he murmured, ‘you find yourself examining every woman you meet with a view to—motherliness.’ A rather wry smile in his green eyes, he got to his feet.
‘Will you stay over here now?’
‘Can’t My contract in the States doesn’t end until February. I’m trying to get out of it, but...’ With a little shrug, he added, ‘I’ll see you in six weeks.’
But six weeks later she was in hospital with head injuries from a car crash and the restaurant was temporarily closed.
Six weeks after that, it was closed permanently. David had gone, her livelihood had gone, and Alexa was waiting in Stefan’s hotel for him to arrive.
A hat covering her shorn head, too thin, nervous, she watched him check in and then slowly walked to join him as he waited for the lift.
‘Do you still need a wife?’ she asked quietly.
CHAPTER ONE
‘OH COME on, come on...’ Fighting the key into the lock, shoving the door wide, Alexa dropped the lead and lunged for the ringing phone.
‘Mike?’ she gasped breathlessly.
‘Mike?’ a deep voice enquired suspiciously. ‘No, it is not Mike. It’s Stefan! Where the hell have you been? I’ve been trying to get hold of you for the past two hours! Have you got her?’
‘Got her?’ she queried blankly. ‘Got who?’
‘Jessica!’
‘Jessica?’
‘Stop bloody repeating it! Have you got her?’ he demanded urgently.
‘No, of course I haven’t got her. Why would I have...?’
‘No?’ he yelled. ‘Why the hell not? Alexa,’ he continued furiously, ‘if you’ve—’
‘Wait, wait, wait,’ she interrupted hastily. ‘I...’
‘I don’t have time to wait! Didn’t Mrs Bailey ring you?’
‘Mrs Bailey?’
‘Yes! Jessica’s grandmother!’
‘No, no one’s rung me,’ she denied worriedly.
‘Oh, God. Right listen, this is very important. How far are you from the school?’
‘The primary school?’
‘Of course the primary school! Sorry,’ he apologised raggedly. ‘I’m sorry, but I’m frightened sick. How far, Alexa?’
‘Ten minutes,’ she said quietly.
‘Then go—now.’
‘But...’
‘Don’t argue! Just go and pick her up! Please. Just go,’ he repeated with the aggravated menace of a man at the end of his tether. ‘I’ll ring in half an hour to make sure you’ve got her. Go.’
‘Yes,’ she agreed weakly. Replacing the phone, she stared at Mr Jones, who stared back at her, head on one side. ‘I won’t be long,’ she told him stupidly. Unclipping his lead, she tossed it onto the chair, and went to the school. Ran to the school because his urgency had communicated itself to her.
But why on earth did Jessica need picking up from school? She had met Jessica, of course she had met her, but she didn’t know her. Didn’t know what she liked... And none of this was supposed to happen until next month!
Married to a man she barely knew, living in a minuscule cottage because the brother of an acquaintance had wanted it sat on—or in—for a few weeks, was due back any day now, and she still hadn’t found herself alternative accommodation. Which meant that she was likely to be homeless before the week was out—or not, if Stefan was coming back. And it was no good now saying that she hadn’t known what she was doing. No good blaming anyone but herself. She should have stayed in the hotel where Stefan had put her but she hadn’t wanted to stay in the hotel. She’d needed something to do, not to sit around waiting, getting more and more miserable. And it was such a stupid thing to have done, to marry a man she knew nothing about. But she’d been angry, disbelieving, hurt—homeless, because David, who had also been her landlord, had walked out on her whilst she was in the hospital. That had been bad enough, but he’d also cancelled her lease on the restaurant and the flat above it. And she didn’t know why.
Stefan had been a lifeline. An unthought-out, panicked lifeline. And maybe if he hadn’t had to rush off to the States immediately after the court hearing to grant him custody...if he had given her time to think... But she’d been ill then, weak—and now she wasn’t, and the full import of what she had done was beginning to hit home. If she’d stayed in the hotel, where there were other people, instead of weakly allowing herself to be persuaded into cottage-sitting because she had thought it would give her time to sort herself out... As she would have done, she assured herself, if the plan had been adhered to... And anyone with a tendency towards impulsive behaviour should be forcibly gagged and bound until the impulse had passed!
She had a dog because she’d been unable to say no when someone had asked if she would have him whilst they went on holiday. And didn’t come back. She worked in a charity shop when people didn’t turn up for their shift. Did an old lady’s shopping... Now she was to be responsible for a little girl whose uncle was on the other side of the Atlantic. Was he intending to
