chair she’d perched on earlier and, checking over her shoulder, approached the desk. His leather office chair still held the impression of his muscled thighs and she tore her eyes away from it. She didn’t want to think about those thighs entwined with hers, his hair-roughened legs scraping along the smooth flesh of her own as he…
She swung away to inspect his desk. It was crafted out of Tasmanian myrtle, the rich red hues of the timber creating a type of warmth that made her want to reach out and touch it.
There was a photograph on the right-hand side of his computer console and before she could stop herself she picked it up and looked at it.
The Rockcliffe family were all there, with their various partners—two of whom she didn’t recognise—and gathered around them like trophies were six small children. Cara examined the features of each individual child and saw a little bit of Byron in each of them. An ache settled somewhere almost unreachable inside her, and she put the photograph down just as the office door reopened.
Byron’s gaze swept over her standing behind his desk.
‘I see you’ve reacquainted yourself with the family.’ His tone was dry.
Cara stepped away from the desk with a guilty flush.
‘That’s quite some stud you’ve got happening down there,’ she said in a voice that belied the true state of her feelings. ‘Tell me, Byron, which children are yours?’
His eyes hardened momentarily. Cara prepared herself mentally for his reply, hoping it wouldn’t hurt too much to hear how he was the father of one or two of those beautiful little faces in the photograph, not to mention the pain of finding out which of the young women was his new wife.
‘None,’ he stated flatly.
It took Cara a while for his one-word reply to sink in.
‘None?’
‘None.’
He took the chair she’d been sitting in earlier and propped one ankle across his knee in a casual pose. Cara envied his calm as he sat and watched her like an eagle, circling way above its prey, patiently waiting until it was finally time to swoop.
She couldn’t hold his gaze. She absently fiddled with a paperclip on his desk, trying to frame the question that tore at her insides like rough claws. But before she could ask he asked one of his own.
‘Any regrets, Cara?’
‘What do you mean?’ She glanced towards him briefly, not trusting herself to linger too long on his face. She didn’t want him to see the pain in her eyes, the deep pang of regret and self-recrimination that was nearly always reflected there.
‘Choosing your career over motherhood. Tell me, has it been as fulfilling as you anticipated?’
The paperclip pricked her finger and she let it drop back in the tray with an audible ‘ping’.
‘Of course,’ she answered without meeting his gaze.
She could tell he didn’t believe her.
‘I love my job,’ she said to cover the silence. ‘And Trevor is fun to be around. He’s so creative, inspiring me to do things I haven’t done before.’
‘Like go bankrupt?’ he put in neatly.
She flashed him a resentful glare.
‘Things are tight just now, but I’m sure we’ll get out of it.’
‘Your confidence does you credit,’ he said. ‘But from what I’ve gathered so far, things are very much on the downhill run.’
‘That’s not true!’ Her denial was overdone but she couldn’t stop herself in time. She just couldn’t allow him to gloat over her failure. Her pride wouldn’t cope. She wouldn’t cope.
‘Did Trevor tell you the bank is threatening to foreclose on your business loan?’ he asked.
Panic rose in her throat and she swallowed it down with difficulty.
‘I…’
‘And that unless your cashflow increases dramatically everything you’ve put into the business will be lost, as well as any assets you might have accumulated over the past seven years?’ He paused for effect. ‘I trust you do have some sort of asset base?’
‘Of course I do!’ She glared at him angrily. ‘Not that it’s any of your business.’
‘I’m making it my business.’
His statement held a trace of implacability about it that totally unnerved her. She released her clenched fists with an effort. She held on to the back of his office chair for support but it offered little; her fingers were trembling and the chair shifted under their feeble grasp.
‘Wh…what do you mean?’
He waited until her eyes had returned to his to answer.
‘I’m digging you out of bankruptcy. I’ll settle the overdraft and pay off any outstanding debts you might have.’
‘Why would you do that?’ she asked, her mouth suddenly bone dry. ‘What possible reason could you have for doing that?’
‘I have a very good reason,’ he said evenly.
A flutter of apprehension settled deep in her stomach. Here comes the fine print, she thought to herself: his conditions.
‘And that is?’ She managed to get the three words past the stiff line of her mouth.
His dark eyes held hers for a lengthy period before he finally spoke.
‘I want you to have my baby.’
CHAPTER TWO
‘YOU’RE out of your mind!’ Cara threw the words at him in disbelief. ‘You surely can’t be serious?’
‘Deadly serious.’
‘But…’ She ran her tongue over her parched lips agitatedly. ‘But why? Why me?’
‘As I said earlier, you’re the one I want.’
She gaped at him with a combination of incredulity and dread.
‘But why now?’ she asked in desperation. ‘Why now, after all this time?’
He got to his feet and she fought against the instinct to shrink behind his desk. He didn’t approach her, but his eyes were like diamond chips as he stood watching every nuance of her expression.
‘I’m the only one left in my family without children. I’m thirty-six years old and I want to look my own son or daughter in the eyes, not just those of my nieces and nephews.’
‘But there are any number of women out there who would jump at the chance,’ she croaked. ‘With your sort of money you could even pay someone to do it, for God’s sake!’
