The Taming of Xander Sterne. Carole Mortimer

be willing to tolerate her own presence in his home for the next two weeks, he wasn’t in the least keen on having her daughter in residence as well.

      An attitude that Sam wasn’t particularly happy about.

      But beggars couldn’t be choosers.

      She hadn’t always been in such dire financial straits; her ex-husband, Malcolm, wasn’t anywhere near as wealthy as the Sterne brothers, but he was nevertheless a successful businessman who owned a mansion in London, plus a villa in the South of France and another in the Caribbean.

      Sam had been twenty to Malcolm’s thirty-five, when the two of them had first met, she a lowly junior assistant and he the owner of the company. She had been instantly smitten with the suave and sophisticated, dark-haired and wealthy businessman, and apparently Malcolm had felt the same about her, so much so that within two months of meeting each other they had been married.

      Sam had been starry-eyed and, to begin with, so much in love with her handsome and successful husband. Her parents had both died years ago, and she had been brought up in a series of foster homes. Her extended family was practically non-existent, with only a couple of distant maiden aunts whom she never saw.

      However, Sam’s pregnancy had changed her marriage irrevocably.

      She and Malcolm had never discussed having children—or rather, not having them in Malcolm’s case. It turned out that Malcolm didn’t want children cluttering up his life as she discovered only when she’d excitedly told him she was two months pregnant.

      At the time Sam had convinced herself that it was just a knee-jerk response to the thought of becoming a father for the first time at the age of thirty-six. Malcolm couldn’t really have meant it when he suggested she terminate the pregnancy.

      She had been wrong.

      Their marriage had changed overnight, with Malcolm moving out of their bedroom, seemingly repulsed by the idea of Sam’s body undergoing a transformation as the pregnancy continued. Even then, however, Sam had naively hoped for the best, sure that her marriage couldn’t really be over after only a year, and that Malcolm would come around to the idea of fatherhood, either before or after the baby was born.

      Again, she had been wrong.

      Malcolm had remained in the spare bedroom, ignored her pregnancy totally, and he hadn’t so much as visited her once in the clinic after Daisy was born. He had even been absent from the house when she came home carrying Daisy proudly in her arms and took her up to the nursery she had spent so many hours lovingly decorating and preparing for her beautiful baby.

      Sam had struggled on for another two years trying to make her marriage work, sure that Malcolm couldn’t continue to ignore his daughter’s existence for ever. How could he not fall in love with his adorable baby daughter?

      Except he hadn’t.

      At the end of that two years of struggle Sam had admitted defeat. Not only did she no longer love Malcolm, she wasn’t sure she even liked him. How could she like a man who refused to acknowledge his own wife and daughter?

      The past three years certainly hadn’t been easy ones. Emotionally or financially.

      Her emotions and how she dealt with them were Sam’s own problem, of course. But how could a billionaire like Xander Sterne possibly understand how she had to scrape the money together, basically by going without lunches all week herself, just to be able to pay for something so trivial as Daisy’s ballet lesson once a week? Something her daughter had talked of almost since she could walk and talk, and which Sam refused to disappoint her over.

      Of course Malcolm, when Sam asked, had refused to contribute in the slightest to Daisy’s happiness, over and above the minimum childcare payment paid into Sam’s bank account once a month. An account set up in the name of Samantha Smith rather than her married name of Samantha Howard.

      Her married name, along with the gifts and jewellery Malcolm had given her during their marriage, and any settlement she might have expected as Malcolm’s ex-wife, either in a lump sum or monthly payment, were all things Sam had been asked to give up in exchange for Malcolm agreeing to give her full custody of her beloved daughter. A price Sam had willingly paid. And would willingly pay again, if she had to.

      Xander, a man who owned and ran successful businesses globally with his twin brother, couldn’t possibly understand how difficult it was for a single mother to even find a job, let alone one that necessarily fitted in with the hours Daisy spent at school. Waitressing at lunchtimes had been one of Sam’s only options since Daisy started school the previous September, and even that became a nightmare when the school holidays came around. As they invariably did.

      That last problem was going to be solved in two weeks’ time, though, by her new job at Andy’s ballet studio. In the meantime, this two weeks of looking after Mr Sterne would allow her to pay her electricity and gas bills.

      Even so, it was mainly out of gratitude to Andy that Sam was now on her way to spend two weeks in the home of a man she had only met once, and whom she wasn’t in the least comfortable being around. He hadn’t exactly been outright rude to her, but he hadn’t exactly been polite either.

      So, was her new employer a nice man?

      Quite honestly, she had no idea.

      Oh, there was no doubting that he was fiercely masculine, with his wide and muscled shoulders, narrow waist and hips, and long legs. His hair was a tousled and overlong gold, and his eyes were a dark and piercing brown in his tanned and chiselled face; nose long and straight between sharply etched cheekbones, his mouth full and sensual, with the top lip fuller than the bottom above a square and determined jaw. As an indication of a sensual nature?

      Well, probably not the latter for the past six weeks, since his car accident had resulted in a badly broken leg and basically kept him as being almost a recluse in his own apartment.

      Although that obviously wouldn’t have prevented women from visiting him at home!

      It was something Sam hadn’t thought of until now, but the bedroom exploits of billionaire Xander Sterne had been making the headlines in the newspapers and glossy magazines for more years than Sam cared to contemplate.

      And the women photographed draped on his arm, at film festivals and other celebrity events, were always beautiful, always single, and always long-legged and oozing sex appeal.

      ‘Mummy?’ Daisy’s curious tone reminded Sam that she hadn’t yet answered her daughter.

      She turned to give her daughter a beaming smile. ‘Mr Sterne is a very nice man, darling.’ She avoided so much as glancing in the direction of the chauffeur sitting in the front of the car—just in case she should happen to catch his sceptical gaze in the rear-view mirror as confirmation of her misgivings.

      Because nice was hardly a word anyone would use to describe Xander. Dynamic. Arrogant. Lethally attractive. But nice? Not so much.

      ‘Will he like me, do you think?’ Daisy added anxiously.

      It was her daughter’s anxiety that made Sam’s mouth tighten. It was a legacy of all these years of Malcolm’s total lack of interest in his young child and an uncertainty that had resulted in Daisy being nervous around all men.

      ‘Of course he’ll like you, poppet.’ Sam would rip the arrogant Xander Sterne to shreds if he did or said anything to hurt her already vulnerable daughter. ‘Now, did you remember to pack teddy in your bag?’ She deliberately changed the subject; there was really no reason to worry Daisy when she, herself, was already nervous enough for the both of them.

      * * *

      Xander didn’t exactly pace the hallways of his apartment so much as clomp inelegantly up and down them on his crutches, as he waited impatiently for the arrival of Samantha Smith and her young daughter.

      Xander had to admit to being a little surprised by Sam’s appearance when she’d arrived at his apartment on Wednesday morning, so much so that he hadn’t been able to so much as speak for most