The Billionaire's Baby Chase. Valerie Parv

her power over men, but hated being pinned down for long. As a mother, she took little interest in the childish milestones Zoe had dutifully reported to her each day.

      In many ways Ruth had reminded Zoe of a butterfly, moving restlessly from flower to flower, hating to be impeded in her travels. She hadn’t struck Zoe as a woman for whom marriage and motherhood were natural choices.

      James watched the expressions moving over her face. “I see you know what she was like.”

      “I only knew her for a short time when she moved into an apartment across the road,” Zoe explained, her voice deepened by the ache in her throat. “She called herself Ruth Sullivan and said she was working as a courier in the city. Sometimes she left Genie with me overnight, so I was accustomed to having her sleep here. But when Ruth didn’t return to collect her for two days, I went to her address to see if she was ill. There was no answer and her neighbors hadn’t seen her in days, so I contacted the police.”

      “Who traced her movements and discovered she’d been killed in that sailing accident,” James supplied. His tone said he was still adjusting to the discovery. In the midst of her own desolation, Zoe felt an unexpected wave of compassion for him.

      “According to the police, she was involved with a pretty reckless crowd who encouraged her to try all sorts of dangerous sports,” Zoe added.

      His sigh of resignation hissed between them. “Knowing Ruth, she wouldn’t have needed much encouragement. She enjoyed living on the edge. It made her feel alive. Working in the Middle East suited her need for adventure. I should have known better than to expect her to settle into domesticity with me.”

      “What happened between you?” Through her hurt, Zoe felt compelled to ask the question, to know everything about Genie’s brief life before she came to Zoe. Until now she’d only had Ruth’s account to go by.

      A shadow crossed his chiseled features. “When we found out she was pregnant, I suggested returning to Australia so the baby could be born here.” He lapsed into a long, nerve-stretching silence before continuing. “For a while, things seemed to work out, but Ruth became restless. I had to return to the Middle East to complete our contract. Ruth wanted to come with me, but Genevieve was not yet two. I tried to cut my trip as short as I could. I was only supposed to be gone for a month.”

      His deep voice cracked. The pain caused by his memories enfolded Zoe as if it was her own—which in a way, it was. But for these events triggered half a world away, she would not now be facing the worst moment of her life.

      “She couldn’t wait a month?” she managed to ask, saying the unsayable for him. How could any woman, the mother of his child, not wait a lifetime for the man she loved, if that was what was required?

      “In the end…circumstances…intervened. It was much longer than a month before I was able to return,” he rasped. “By the time I got back she was gone, taking my daughter with her.”

      A distant part of her mind noticed that he made no attempt to explain what circumstances had kept him away. Was it the pressure of business? Or, heaven forbid, another woman? Neither were excusable when he had a wife and baby waiting for him at home.

      Whatever had happened was none of her business except as it concerned Genie, she told herself. He was probably only telling her the story at all to help her understand how Genie came to be in Zoe’s care. The crazy part was she did understand. In his shoes she would have done everything in her power to find her child, just as James had. But the mother in her railed against it with every breath in her body. How in the name of all that was right and true could she face giving Genie up?

      “I know this must be hard for you,” James conceded. Distantly she registered that he felt badly about what he was doing. Yet she also sensed that nothing she said or did, no amount of tears or pleading, would change his course any more than one rock can alter the eventual course of a mighty river.

      “Hard?” she echoed, her eyes blurring as she lifted them to him. “This goes way beyond hard, all the way to impossible. I doubt if you have the slightest idea how hard this is, Mr. Langford.”

      It registered that familiarity had gone, along with any sense of the attraction she had begun to feel toward him.

      He gestured toward the documents lying between them on the coffee table. “Are you sure I don’t know how this feels? If you come back to my office, I can show you files stacked higher than that table with reports and false leads, rumors and red herrings, as well as hard intelligence gathered inch by painstaking inch since the day Genevieve was taken away from me.” His jaw hardened. “So don’t tell me I can’t understand how it feels.”

      The difference was that he had had longer to adjust to the situation, if that helped any. Somehow she doubted it. And if he got his way, she would have to live without Genie a lot longer than James had. She forced herself to ask, “What do you intend to do now?”

      He paced to the window, parting the curtain to survey the suburban vista beyond before swinging back to face her. Compassion softened the lines etched around his features, but his eyes shone with purpose. “I intend to get to know my child, be a father to her again. We’ve been kept apart quite long enough.”

      Her mind refused to deal with any of this. Even acknowledging that she had heard him would lead to discussing ways and means. Suddenly she understood how bereaved people could prattle on about trivial matters, anything to avoid facing the reality of their loss.

      She locked her hands around her knees, her thoughts stupidly sticking on the Strathfield mansion. Why had he wanted to see it if he had no real interest in the property? “This whole meeting was a sham, wasn’t it?” she said woodenly. “Have you enjoyed playing cat and mouse with me all afternoon, relishing the moment when you could spring your trap?”

      Anger flashed in his vivid gaze. “It wasn’t a sham,” he denied. “My company does intend to purchase a property where we can accommodate visiting executives. But you’re right, it wasn’t why I made the appointment with you.” He glanced around. “I wanted to see for myself what you were like and how my child has been living.”

      Zoe drew herself up to her full height, anger running like a river through her. She had a fair idea how inadequate her modest home must seem to someone with his background. “How dare you come here and check me out in such an underhanded way?” she demanded. “I may not have your resources, but Genie has wanted for nothing while she’s been in my care.”

      James’s face clouded. He remained as still as a statue at the window, but his hands balled into fists at his sides. “If our roles were reversed, you’d have done exactly the same thing. Fortunately the team of private investigators I’ve had on the case since she disappeared assure me that Genevieve has flourished in your care. What I’ve seen for myself this afternoon bears it out, so you have no need to be angry on that score. On the contrary, I’m eternally grateful for all you’ve done.”

      His appreciation fell on deaf ears as she recoiled almost physically at the idea of being investigated. It reminded her all too vividly of Andrew’s endless suspicions and questioning, even to the extent of watching her from his car to make sure she was indeed going to the supermarket and not to a meeting with another man.

      “You’ve had me under investigation?” she repeated, revulsion sending shivers arrowing down her spine. “It didn’t occur to you to simply knock on the door and ask me anything you wanted to know?”

      He spread his fingers wide. “I didn’t wish to confront you until I was sure of my facts. Over the months I’ve had to deal with a string of false leads and disappointments. If the child had turned out not to be my daughter, you would never have known of my interest.”

      Iced water slid along her veins. “I can’t believe you had me watched and every detail of my life investigated without me knowing anything about it. It’s almost…” She sprang to her feet, her mind groping for the right word. “Voyeuristic. How many other people have you spied on without their knowledge, pawing through the details of their lives?”

      He was