An Inconvenient Desire (11 page)

She expected Jonathan to balk at the girly hair accessory, but instead he picked Hannah up and waited patiently while she tried to fit it on his much larger head.

“Now I’m beautiful, just like you,” Jonathan declared. “Hold still, everyone. I’m going to take a photo and send it to Nanna.” He whipped out his phone and took a snapshot of the three of them huddled together, wearing plastic tiaras. “Hannah,”—he put the little girl back on the floor—“why don’t you look in that big box over there while I show Olivia her bedroom? It’s just next door.”

Hannah didn’t even look back as she discovered a trunk full of dress-up clothes.

“When did you have time to get all this stuff?” Olivia asked to distract herself from the feel of Jonathan’s hand in hers as he led her from the room.

“Best thing about online shopping is that you can do it at 2
a.m.
when you can’t sleep because you’re thinking about a ravishing brunette 700 miles away.” He opened the door to her room with a flourish.

For the second time that day, her mouth fell open in shock.

• • •

Jonathan stared at her face, astounded at the parade of emotions that crossed it. Olivia was acting as if no one had ever given her anything before.

“How did you know?” Olivia whispered at last. There was a sheen of moisture in her eyes and her lips quivered.

“Sophia designed it. She said you guys once discussed your dream houses. This is as close as we could get to your ideal bedroom. But if you don’t like it … ”

“It’s the most beautiful room I’ve ever seen.” She walked over to the bedspread and ran her delicate hand over the cream duvet cover. For a second he envisioned Olivia, lying naked on the bed, beckoning him to join her. He shook his head, forcing the image from his mind. He wanted her to feel comfortable, relaxed, cared for. From the look on her face as she wandered about, reverently touching a few of the small decorative items, it was worth every penny of the 10,000 pounds he’d paid for the furniture to be express delivered and the painters and decorators to work through the night getting everything ready.

The room was elegantly romantic, an aspect of her personality he hadn’t fully appreciated until now. He’d considered Olivia to be eminently practical—the way she’d taken over and helped him cope with Hannah’s arrival, and the ease with which she adjusted to monumental changes in lifestyle. He now knew she hid a whimsical nature.

If he’d been left to guess, he probably would have thought she’d like a sexy bedroom. Her clothes certainly gave the impression that was part of her personality. But now that he knew Olivia loved romance, he was going to use it to his advantage.

Because one thing the past two weeks apart had taught him was that he was going to do his damnedest to let go of the past and the bitterness he still felt toward marriage, and open himself to the possibilities of a real relationship with Olivia. If he could convince her to give up modeling, he figured they had a real chance.

“So you like it?”

She turned toward him. Her mask had slipped and he could once more glimpse the woman she battled inside—fragile and uncertain. “It is so beautiful. Exactly how I dreamed. But it seems such a waste for a trial nanny.”

He rushed to her side and took her into his arms. She didn’t resist and placed her head on his shoulder, her hands resting on his back. God, she felt good.

Too soon, she pulled away and walked over to the mantle. “Is that the statue from Brisighella?” She ran a finger over the marble figurine of the entwined lovers.

He joined her by the fireplace. “Yes. I bought it that day. I know you said it wasn’t an appropriate gift for a friend. But we are more than friends now.” She searched his face, her dark eyes confused. “Olivia, I think of you as my girlfriend—a woman I am getting to know, with the hope that things may work out between us. I would like to move our relationship to the next level, the one I believe we’d be at if Hannah hadn’t suddenly arrived at my door. Olivia Chapman, will you go out with me?” A rather ridiculous question as they’d been living together since Hannah arrived.

Her eyes searched his face. He let her see it all: the desire, confusion, fear, hope. Hell, maybe there was a hint of love in there, too. He wasn’t sure at this point. It seemed to convince her; one of her hands slid into his hair, guiding his head down toward hers.

Their lips touched and he forced himself to take it slow, be gentle, and not crush her to him with his raging need. Instead he explored her mouth, learned her secrets, reveled in the softness of her full lips under his. He filled his mind with the low moan that escaped her as their tongues dueled. Her hand on his back roved up and down as though she couldn’t get enough of touching him. Just as he was about to shrug off his suit jacket to get closer to her, he felt a tug on his trousers, and not in the usual location.

“Daddy, Bibya, wadya doin’?”

Olivia would have moved away, but he kept his hands firmly on her back. Hannah would have to get used to seeing them kiss, because he wasn’t going to stop for her sake. Although he’d have to be careful to keep any further amorous activities in check until the little one was in bed.

“We’re kissing,” he explained to his daughter. “It’s what Daddy and Olivia do when they are happy to see each other.”

“Oh.” Hannah accepted that explanation but tugged once more on his trousers.

“I want side.”

He looked blankly at Olivia.

“Outside, she wants to go outside.” Olivia’s voice was still husky and her breath came quicker than usual. Good, she’d been as affected as him. Maybe he wouldn’t need the full three months to convince her to stay. Their summer in Italy had been full of laughter. He couldn’t remember a happier time in his adult life. But that was holiday. Real life started now. A life he hoped included Olivia.

Olivia shook her head as if to restart her brain. “Fresh air sounds good. Come on, Hannah. I think I saw a sandbox through the window. Shall we go see if it’s real?”

She dropped her hands from his back and reached out to take his daughter’s hand. Reluctantly, he let her go, then followed the two females in his life. As they were about to exit the backdoor, a buzzing from the phone in his pocket reminded him of his meeting starting in ten minutes.

“Unfortunately, I have to get back to work. I have a video conference call starting soon. I’ll be in the home office next to the sitting room. I’ll leave you two ladies to explore the rest of the house and grounds on your own. Olivia, I didn’t have time to get groceries. Do you want to go out for dinner or get takeaway? As much as I love Italian food, I’m craving curry.”

“Let’s eat in. I think Hannah will be tired after the day’s changes. And Indian food sounds great.” She still had the just-kissed look about her and it was all he could do not to coax her back into his arms for a repeat.

“I was hoping you’d say that. I’ll order in around five in case Hannah flakes out early.” A quiet evening at home, with Olivia by his side, was just what he needed.

“Um, Jonathan … ” Her hot gaze roved over him, as it had back in Italy whenever he’d stripped off his t-shirt. Was she going to suggest more than just a curry? His pulse rate quickened.

“Yes?”

“You may want to take off the tiara before your conference call.”

His hand reached up and touched the plastic, gem-encrusted headpiece. “I don’t know, maybe they’ll take me more seriously if they see I’m royalty.”

Olivia’s delicious laugh followed him down the hall. He was home.

• • •

Olivia loaded the dishwasher while Jonathan tucked Hannah into bed. Her whole body hummed with contentment. She’d been so surprised at the bedroom Jonathan had prepared for her. He’d spent a lot of time, not to mention money, on making her feel special. He wouldn’t have done that if he didn’t care, would he? And then his suggestion that they move their relationship along hit her at her most vulnerable. Her desire to be loved and accepted had led to some stupid decisions in the past. But she couldn’t deny the chance to see if she and Jonathan had what it took to be truly happy.

The past two weeks had been the longest of her life. Even though Jonathan had flown back to Italy for the weekend, she’d missed seeing him on a daily basis. The withdrawals had been intense. Heaven help her if she had to go cold turkey.

With her thoughts so full of him, it wasn’t a surprise when his arms came around her from behind. “Leave the dishes. I’ll put them in the dishwasher in the morning and turn it on. They should be done by the time you get up.”

“It’s a habit. I always tidy up before I go to bed.” Something she’d picked up mostly to prevent her mother from tripping on something when she came home drunk or high.

“Come have a glass of wine in the snug. It’s not as nice as the terrace in Italy, but when in London … ” He inhaled deeply, near her ear, before releasing her.

She took a moment to gather her wits before she turned to him. Too much of this romance and she’d be a puddle, doing anything to keep him near. She needed to find something to put some distance between them.

“So, what’s the story on this place? You just happened to have an extra five or six million lying around and thought it would be a good investment?” She crossed her arms over her stomach.

A flash of contrition crossed his face. “Let’s talk.”

He led the way to a small room next to his home office. A comfy looking, dark-gray sofa lined one wall, a series of bookshelves another. The window looked out onto the now dark garden. A huge flat-screen TV was mounted on the wall but turned off. It was a room for relaxing. So why did she feel so wound up?

“I’m sorry I didn’t warn you that your dreams of living in a three-bed terraced house were about to be dashed. I don’t think of myself in terms of how much money I have. I buy what I need, sometimes what I want—like the car in Italy. My family isn’t rich. My father has a small building company in Yorkshire. My parents still live in the house I grew up in. They refuse to move even though I’ve offered to buy them a newer house. I was raised on hard work. My mother thinks it’s ludicrous, the money I make just to advise rich people how to get even richer. So I’ve always thought of my wealth as rather an embarrassment. It doesn’t change who I am.”

Even though he’d shed his jacket and tie, he was still dressed for work. It was hard to equate the suit-wearing man in this mansion with the t-shirt-and-shorts guy she’d come to know over the past couple months.

He had one arm thrown over the back of the sofa, as if inviting her into his embrace. She locked her knees to keep from succumbing to the temptation. “Won’t your friends and colleagues think it strange that you’re dating your daughter’s nanny?”

“First, I don’t give a damn what anyone thinks of our relationship. Second, I don’t see you as Hannah’s nanny. You are a friend who’s helping me out in my time of need. Any financial or other arrangement between us is nobody’s business but our own.”

“Still—”

“Still nothing. Olivia, sit down, have a glass of wine, and tell me how Hannah handled the flight.” He patted the sofa next to him, but she elected to take a chair opposite, with the coffee table between them.

Eventually she relaxed and related how Hannah had asked a million questions before they’d even taken off and, within five minutes of departure, had the entire flight crew wrapped around her finger.

The strangeness of the different situation gradually decreased and she could see the Jonathan she knew, just dressed in fancier clothes. When he tried to hide his third yawn, she rose.

“You’re tired. We’d better go to bed.” At the blaze of lust that flitted across his eyes, she laughed. “Separate beds,” she amended.

“Damn. Before we go up, I need to show you the security system. I leave at 5
a.m.
for work, but I should be home around 6
p.m.
I’ve left my contact numbers on the desk in the study as well as a set of keys. If you need anything at all, don’t hesitate to call. If it’s urgent and I’m in a meeting, call my secretary and she’ll get me out.”

He showed her how to work the security system then they walked side by side up the stairs, stopping on the upper landing. His bedroom was at the opposite end of the hall from hers. She’d been surprised when she’d poked her head in earlier at how austere it was, with only a bed, small bedside table, and dresser. He’d spent all that time and money on her room but seemed to have neglected his own.

“Goodnight, Jonathan.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek, then stepped away before he could deepen the embrace. Maybe he hadn’t bothered to fix up his bedroom because he figured it wouldn’t be long before he was sharing hers. Maybe he wasn’t wrong.

With the shift in their relationship, it was going to be harder to resist him. And just why was she trying to keep him at arm’s length? He was thoughtful, kind, sexy, funny—everything she wanted in a man. But he had to accept her for who she was.

Then she heard Hannah laugh in her sleep in the room next door.
When I was a child, did I ever laugh in my sleep?
She doubted it. Even now, the aftereffects of what she’d endured threatened her happiness. It was possible Jonathan wouldn’t be so inclined to deepen their relationship when he discovered everything in her past. And then she’d have nothing. Again.

Jonathan sauntered into the kitchen wearing jeans and a blue rugby shirt, his hair slightly disheveled. Olivia blinked. Italian Jonathan was back, although dressed a bit warmer. Maybe she should jack up the heat. It’d been weeks since she’d had an ogle-fest of his naked chest and muscled thighs. Not that she was in any danger of forgetting. The sight of him exiting the pool that first day was burned into her brain and would put a smile on her face well into her old age. But still, a girl couldn’t live on memories alone.

This was her third week in London, living with him and Hannah. Although it was more like they were flat mates. He was gone before she woke, and although they sat together after he’d given Hannah her bath and put her to bed, he was quite often working on his laptop or reading something. He’d even had to go into the office the first two weekends. Investment bankers might make ridiculous money, but they definitely put in the hours.