The Boss's Baby Affair (11 page)

“I'm sure you'll both enjoy some time out,” said Alison, looking around her. “Speaking of which, I've been left alone far too long. I'd better go and check where those boys of mine have gotten to.”

 

Before Nick could ask his sister to wait so they could finalize Jennie's sleepover arrangements for the night, he spied a familiar snowy head in the approaching throng.

Putting an arm around Candace, he braced himself for the inevitable clash of wills with his father-in-law. “I didn't expect to see you here, Desmond.”

“As a future stockholder in Valentine's, I wanted to investigate my investment. What better time than today?” The grim smile didn't light up his glacial eyes. “Aren't you going to introduce me to your woman?”

Nick felt Candace tense.

Resisting what was rapidly becoming a familiar urge to land his fist in Desmond's stomach, he said, “This is my father-in-law. Desmond, this is Jennie's nanny, Candace.” He chose the explanation she'd offered Bertha, and thankfully Candace didn't contradict him.

“I see.”

Without sparing the sleeping baby in the stroller a glance, Desmond looked Candace up and down, making his opinion of what he saw very clear. Nick resisted the urge to let his hand fall from where he'd rested it protectively in the small of her back.

“I doubt it,” said Nick levelly.

“I see a pretty woman living in your home—”

Candace tensed under Nick's touch. “A woman
my sister
employed while I was overseas on
business.” Nick spoke from between gritted teeth, furious with his father-in-law's implication, and even more furious because he couldn't in clear conscience tell Desmond to get his mind out the gutter.

Because the irrefutable truth was that Nick was lusting after Candace. The spark of attraction that had flared that first night had raged out of control. Now that he'd discovered they'd created a daughter together, Nick couldn't get the picture of making love to Candace—the real, passionate way, not the clinical IVF way—out of his mind. It was driving him crazy.
She
was driving him crazy.

Even now he caught the scent of her perfume as the wind lifted tendrils of her hair off her nape. He was intensely conscious that only one layer of cotton fabric separated the fingers resting on her back from her bare flesh beneath. And the idea that Desmond had spotted what Nick was so determined to conceal turned his stomach.

He dropped his hand from where it rested.

“Was that your sister who rushed past me?” asked Desmond.

Nick's hackles rose. He was sure that Desmond knew it had been Alison. “Why? Did you want an update on how her husband is progressing on finding new premises?”

It was a shot in the dark. But the slight widening of Desmond's eyes gave him away even before he blustered, “I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“I'm sure you do.” Nick lowered his voice. “Leave Alison and Richard out of it. This is our fight.”

Desmond glanced away, then back. “I see someone I need to talk to—I'm sure you'd agree with me that people would line up to buy an apartment on the lake's edge.”

“It's not going to happen,” Nick said, “and that's a promise.”

Desmond glared at him, and the rush of anger that his father-in-law so often provoked rose fast and hard in Nick. He stepped forward.

“Nick,” said Candace, “let's move on. I'd like to wheel Jennie around to keep her from waking.”

Nick suspected that Candace's timely concern had more to do with stopping him from flattening Desmond than from worry about Jennie's waking. His initial surge of annoyance ebbed to be replaced by a more complicated emotion as he glanced across to Candace.

An unspoken connection leaped between them.

“I found my boys,” Alison said from behind them, bringing Nick abruptly back to earth, and then she added, “Oh, hello Desmond.”

Muttering a greeting, Desmond gave Nick an ugly look and stalked away.

“What did I just interrupt?” Alison let go of her sons' hands.

For a moment Nick thought his sister had spotted that instant of electric intensity between him and Candace. How could he explain something he didn't understand himself?

Then Alison grabbed her younger son as he drifted away. “Don't you disappear again. Your dad is coming any minute.” She rolled her eyes as both boys grumbled and she shot Candace an apologetic smile. “They're little rogues.” Turning to Nick, she asked, “Now, what's Desmond doing here?”

Relief filled Nick. Alison's sharp eyes had missed that moment of secret connection he'd shared with Candace. “I suspect he's responsible for much of the misery you and Richard are experiencing at present.”

“But why?” asked Alison.

From the corner of his eye Nick caught the flicker of shock on Candace's face. “He wants to hurt me—and hurting you is a very good way of accomplishing that.”

“You know what?” Alison stuck her hands on her hips. “I'm going to drum up support to have that jerk be the one to have to kiss Princess Piggy today. I'm going to get a jar with Desmond's name in big bold black letters started.”

Alison's vehemence was enough to assure Nick that today Desmond would be the one kissing the pig.

“Don't do anything foolish,” he warned. “We're going to win this battle against Desmond.” Then, turning to Candace, he said ruefully, “Sorry we're dragging you into something you don't deserve to be part of. But take note that my sister may be the most dangerous woman in the whole world.”

Then he realized that was totally true. It had been Alison who had engineered his date with Candace tonight—and, given the connection that was growing between them, that was going to be a truly risky occasion.

T
he restaurant Nick chose for dinner was located in Auckland's highly fashionable Viaduct Basin.

A valet had taken the Ferrari away to park it. And, despite the restaurant's being heavily booked, the manager had found them a table on the edge of the terrace outside, overlooking the water where the reflection of the evening sun shimmered in shades of rose, orange and gold between berthed luxury yachts.

The beauty of the scene tugged at Candace's heart. “This is glorious.”

“Isn't it?”

Nick pulled his chair up around so that he could sit beside her and they both could look out over the water. Instantly, Candace's senses started to sing with subtle tension. He was so big, so overpowering in a black long-sleeved shirt and black trousers. To distract herself from the effect he was having on her, she smoothed the simple ivory cotton sundress that was
the only thing in her wardrobe remotely suitable for tonight's outing.

“Bertha will be pleased that I've taken her advice,” said Nick leaning toward her. “Go enjoy yourselves. That might as well have been her and Henry's life motto.”

Conscious of Nick's shoulder only inches from her own, Candace murmured, “It sounds like they were happy together—they had each other.”

“Yes, they have each other.”

Nick shifted, stretching his legs out, and Candace couldn't help but notice the way the fabric of his dark trousers rippled as his thigh muscles bunched. She looked away quickly, feeling her cheeks warm. At least with Nick sitting next to her, thankfully he wouldn't notice.

He gave a contented sigh. “This is the life. From now on, I'm going to listen more to Bertha. I haven't done enough enjoying—or living—in the past dozen years.”

“In those years you built up a successful business, married a woman who loved you, fathered a baby. Isn't that life?”

Nick didn't answer. Instead, after a long pause, he slung his arm around the back of her chair, and said, “So what do you do to enjoy yourself?”

Now it was her turn to fall silent.

“My sister told me that you'd recently come back from traveling abroad when she met you at the hospital.”

There was a certain irony that she'd been caught in a lie by his sister. The convenient catchphrase to explain away the months of absence while her pregnancy came to term. Now that easy fiction had come back to haunt her.

“I wasn't traveling,” she said at last. To her relief, just then a waitress arrived with pen and pad to take their orders. Nick's hand slid off the chair back, and rested on Candace's shoulder. She was very conscious of the warm weight against her skin. The shoestring shoulder strap of the ivory sundress offered no
protection from his touch as his fingers played idly, brushing against her, causing shivers of desire to ripple.

After the waitress left with their orders, Candace changed the subject. “Bertha seems very fond of you.”

“She's known me a long time. Henry, her husband, employed me when I landed in trouble as a teenager for playing hooky from school.”

“I got the impression you lived nearby?”

His fingers stilled, and Candace breathed a sigh of relief.

“Yes,” he said with clear reluctance. “I lived with my grandmother—she had a vegetable garden and used to send me to buy seed from the center.”

Getting personal information out of Nick was like trying to get blood from a stone. “And your parents?”

He shrugged. “They moved to live in Kenya when I was ten years old. They took Alison with them because she was only a baby. My grandmother thought it would be better for me to stay with her and get an education. It might've been better if I'd gone with my parents—I would certainly have gotten into a lot less trouble. Henry's offer of a summer job probably saved my grandmother from shipping me off to Africa to avoid expulsion from school.”

He must've missed his parents. Candace's heart ached for him. “Did you see them often?”

“No, they've never been back to New Zealand—they still live in Kenya,” he added as she started to ask. “But Alison came back for my grandmother's funeral, and she chose to stay on.”

Candace wasn't letting him off the hook. She wanted to know more about what made Nick Valentine tick. “You're very close to Alison.”

Lifting one shoulder, he let it fall. “She's my sister.”

No confessions of endless devotion. But what had she expected? Yet she'd seen the way they teased each other and the clear bond of affection between them.

“Nick, why do you always want me to think the worst of you?”

A flush crawled along the side of his neck.

There was a long pause before he replied huskily, “Perhaps it's safer that way.” He dropped his arm off the back of her chair, moved his chair around until he sat opposite her, then added, “Here come our appetizers.”

“That's right, change the subject,” she muttered, incredibly annoyed for some reason that she couldn't fathom.

The waitress set down their orders, then moved an ice bucket beside their table and placed the bottle of wine in the ice. Candace refused the offer of wine, and dug silently into the bowl of chowder she'd ordered.

When she'd finished, she set down her spoon and asked, “Do you ever talk about important stuff?”

“What important stuff?”

Candace gave an impatient sigh. “You're a master at this, aren't you?”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

But the wariness in the indigo gaze told her Nick knew precisely what she meant and he was equally determined to avoid the issue.

“You know, I might have thought you were a bad father—”

“Hey, wait a min—”

“—but I never had you tagged for a coward.”

Anger flared, turning his eyes that blacker shade of midnight and his head went back. “A coward?”

“Yes, a coward. You're afraid of talking about anything that matters.”

“You've been gossiping with my sister,” he said tonelessly.

“No, I haven't. But how interesting that we agree.” Candace drew a deep, steadying breath. Ah, well, she'd started this; there was no turning back now. “You're afraid of intimacy.”

“You know nothing about me!”

“Because you don't allow anyone to get close?”

His face had tightened into an expressionless mask. “You don't know what you're talking about.”

“Your wife loved you—you didn't let even her inside.”

Nick bent forward and spoke in a soft, forceful voice. “My wife never loved me. She wanted to own me, possess my every waking thought, my soul. That's not love.”

For the first time, the facade had cracked and she'd glimpsed anger and a ferocious passion that caused the tiny hairs on her arms to prickle.

“Nick…” She placed a hand on his arm.

“Don't touch me.” His tone was dark and raw. “Unless you're prepared to reap the consequences.”

Excitement licked at her, taking Candace by surprise. She'd never been reckless. The spreading desire warned her that was about to change. She forced herself not to be distracted. To focus. She wanted to know what kind of man Nick Valentine was.

“So tell me,
make
me understand.”

The look he gave her was hostile. “Okay, you want to hear the story of what you consider great love? I'll tell you.”

Candace was no longer so sure she wanted to hear whatever he was about to tell her. Lifting her hand from his arm, she said, “Nick—”

“You accused me of being a coward. You can damn well listen,
then
you can judge.”

Nick took the wine out of the ice bucket. Before he could pour any into her glass, Candace shook her head. She suspected that she needed to be one hundred percent sober for the coming conversation.

Instead of pouring himself wine, Nick placed the wine back in the bucket. “My wife was a photographer. She took photos of flowers and had them blown up onto canvases—”

“Yes, I know. They're very popular. I bought one of her
works at a gallery exhibition.” For her mother's birthday—the last one they'd celebrated before the accident. The photograph had been expensive, but it had been worth every cent. Her mother still loved it. “That's how we met.”

Then they'd met again when Jilly had bumped into her at the hospital visiting a friend's premature baby. That was the first time Candace had glimpsed the other woman's yearning for a baby. They'd bumped into each other several times after that and Candace had been touched by Jilly's concern for her friend's baby.

“Well, we have that in common. It's how I met her, too. I was contracted to landscape her father's garden—I'd already built up a successful string of garden centers. Jilly was taking photos of some of the flowers when I came to check the landscaper's plans for the garden. She started to talk to me, and before I knew it I was being invited to lavish parties at the Perry residence with promises of securing more lucrative landscaping work, and somehow I became her regular date.”

Candace could visualize the scene. Nick, strong, handsome, so full of drive and energy. “She fell in love with you.”

He shook his head. “You're making romantic assumptions. She fell in love with the vision of what she thought she could mold me into.”

Mold Nick? He must be joking! Anyone could see that this was a man who knew his own mind. This man was no one's toy.

“She couldn't get what she wanted, so like a spoiled little girl she told her father I'd seduced her and refused to marry her. Desmond and I had an angry stand-off and I told him that he, and his daughter, could go to hell. He told me that he would make sure I would marry his Jilly.”

The white line around Nick's mouth warned her there was more. “What happened?”

“Bertha and Henry's bank loan was called in. Desmond
stepped in and bought the center. Then Henry discovered that Desmond, the bank manager and a developer had cooked up a scheme to establish a high-density housing development on the land. He and Bertha were devastated.”

She stared at him aghast. “You're joking!”

“I wish I were. He'd found my Achilles' heel. Desmond is a very wealthy man. The banker involved was an old friend of his who held all Desmond's bank accounts.”

“You could've reported the banker.”

“For what? Bertha and Henry were too old to still be in debt for such a large amount, even though the value of the land more than covered the debt. But it could be argued that it was a sound business decision.”

“It was immoral.”

“Sure.”

He smiled at her, and a chill settled in Candace's stomach. “There's more to the story, isn't there?”

“Bertha and Henry were evicted from the house on the property. The shock caused Henry to have a heart attack. I went to see Desmond full of sound and fury. Desmond told me that I could stop it all.”

“How?”

“By marrying his daughter. But he didn't intend to make it easy for me—he wanted me to pay for not marrying her earlier. In return for agreeing to marry Jilly, he would sell Bertha and Henry's garden center to me at a ridiculously inflated price. He resented me. He made it quite clear that things would only get worse for Bertha and Henry if I didn't accept his deal. They would lose not only the garden center, but also the home where they'd lived for forty years. Desmond also intended to humiliate the old couple by having them declared bankrupt. The center would be sold and developed—” Nick stopped, an agonized expression on his face “—God, he's so predictable.”

“Oh, Nick…” Candace could see it all. Jilly desperate for
the man of her dreams, Desmond wanting to get his way at all costs, and Nick wanting the best for the elderly couple who had given him a chance in life. “How tragic.”

“I had no choice… I couldn't risk Bertha's happiness and Henry's health. It brought Henry and Bertha a future together. It was worth it. Now she has her job in the garden center—which she loves.” He shrugged. “So I married Jilly. Part of the deal, in addition to a brutal repayment schedule, was that I gifted stock in Valentine's to Jilly in our prenuptial contract—a tangible hold over me for good behavior.” His mouth slanted. “I had right of first refusal on buying those shares back once the full price for the Williamses' business was paid or Jilly and I had a baby—whichever came first. But she died before I made the final payment.”

“But you had Jennie…”

Was that why Jilly had been so desperate to have a baby? To secure for the husband she'd trapped into a marriage he'd never wanted some degree of freedom? Candace wanted to believe Jilly had regretted the way events had played out.

Nick was shaking his head. “That is no help because, remember, I was sure Jennie wasn't mine—and now I've discovered Jennie is not Jilly's biological baby. She's yours.”

“But Jilly adopted her,” Candace argued. “Jennie is very much Jilly's baby. That stock is yours.”

Nick shrugged. “I have a team of lawyers looking into that right now.”

“What did you do after you accepted the deal?”

“I started to work like a dog so that I could repay Desmond.”

“And you employed Bertha?”

“At first I tried to get her and Henry to stay in the house on the property. She's a proud old woman, and she wouldn't accept what she regarded as charity. Now I owned the garden center that had been hers and Henry's. So I offered Bertha a job and in return she and Henry got to stay in the house while
working for me for four mornings a week. The rest of the time she spends with Henry.”

“No wonder Bertha adores you.”

“She doesn't know the half of it—” he gave her a warning glance “—and I trust she never will.”

“I won't say a word.”

It wasn't surprising that he didn't trust love. It was clear that he'd never loved poor, needy Jilly. In her desperation, Jilly had driven him away before any relationship between them had gotten off the ground.