Modern Romance August 2019 Books 1-4. Heidi Rice

No wonder he was such a commitment-phobe who had never wanted marriage. No wonder he sometimes seemed to view women as the enemy, because to him they were. His birth mother had sold him and his adopted mother had lied to him and condoned her husband’s violence towards him.

      But he’d offered to support her and the baby, hadn’t he? He hadn’t said he wanted to be hands-on, but surely that was a start—a single block on which to build. She didn’t know what the future held—nobody did—but there was no reason why they couldn’t have a grown-up relationship within certain boundaries. Just so long as she didn’t start weaving unattainable fantasises—and maybe for that reason alone, she needed to maintain an element of independence.

      So she turned over and touched her fingertip to his face, tracing it slowly along the outline of his sensual lips. ‘Yes, I’ll be your lover,’ she said. ‘But I’m not going to give up my role as housekeeper.’

      His eyes narrowed. ‘Are you out of your mind?’

      ‘Not at all. I need to work and that’s my job. Otherwise, what am I going to do all day while you wheel and deal—go out to lunch and have my nails painted?’ Her smile was serene as she met his disbelieving expression and she wouldn’t have been human if she hadn’t enjoyed that small moment of triumph. ‘I’ve never had any desire to be a kept woman, Lucas, and I don’t intend to start now.’

       CHAPTER TEN

      SUNLIGHT CAME STREAMING in through the huge windows, bathing Tara’s body with a delicious glow, though the only thing she was really aware of was Lucas’s hand, which was splayed proprietorially over one breast, while the other was tucked possessively around her waist. But possessive was a misnomer and any sense she belonged to him was simply an illusion, she reminded herself fiercely. The touchy-feely-couldn’t-seem-to-keep-his-hands-off-her side of his character was just another feature of the fantastic sex they’d recently enjoyed. A physical reaction, that was all.

      He was lazily stroking her nipple so that it was proud and aching, even though she had just gasped out one of the shuddering orgasms which had become so much a part of her daily life. Yet the crazy thing was that the man beside her felt as much of a stranger as he’d ever done—despite having told her about his childhood and despite having just been deep inside her body. Had she hoped that physical intimacy would automatically morph into mental intimacy? That the bond between them would grow stronger—maybe even unbreakable—the longer they spent together wrapped in each other’s arms like this?

      Yes, she had. Guilty on all counts. But what did she know about such matters when he was her first and only lover? Her mentor, too. In the most delicious way possible, he had tutored her in every aspect of sex. He’d taught her how to uninhibitedly enjoy her body and not to be shy about expressing her needs, but none of that seemed to have impacted on their relationship. Despite the physical closeness of sharing their bed each night and the often teasing banter they enjoyed much as before, nothing fundamental had changed within their relationship. Emotionally, at least, he was as detached as he had ever been.

      Was that because, in spite of his obvious disapproval, she’d insisted in maintaining her role as his housekeeper—thus reinforcing the boss/employee dynamic which had always existed between them? She didn’t think so. What else was she going to do all day if she wasn’t cooking and cleaning—lie around in some cliché of a negligee waiting for Lucas to return from one of his business meetings? She would go out of her mind with boredom if she did that. Anyway, she didn’t have a negligee—cliched or otherwise—because somehow she still hadn’t got around to the shopping trip Lucas had suggested she take to avoid looking like ‘a screwball’.

      ‘Are you awake?’ His murmured voice was soft against her hair.

      Her thoughts still full of fundamental insecurities, Tara nodded. ‘Mmm...’

      The bedclothes rustled as he shifted, turning her round to face him so that their eyes were level and Tara prayed her face didn’t give away her feelings. Feelings she was trying desperately hard to hide, because she knew Lucas was no stranger to the emotion she and countless women before her had experienced...

      She was falling for him. Falling deep and falling hard.

      She was scared to use the word love but it was the only one which seemed appropriate to describe the see-sawing of her feelings and the great rush of joy which powered her heart whenever he walked into the room. When he kissed her she sometimes felt she could faint with pleasure and when he made love to her, her happiness threatened to spill over. It didn’t seem to matter how much she tried to deny what she was feeling, it made no difference. She wasn’t sure how it had happened. If it was because he’d taken her innocence and made her pregnant.

       Or because, beneath his glossy patina of success, he was wounded and hurting inside and that made her want to reach out to protect him?

      He lifted a strand of hair and wound it slowly around his finger and Tara was reminded of one of those fishermen back home—the way they used to slowly reel in their catch, before leaving the floundering fish gasping for air on the quayside.

      ‘You still haven’t been shopping,’ he observed.

      ‘I know.’ She shrugged her bare shoulders. ‘But I haven’t seemed to be able to find the time.’

      ‘Then make the time, Tara. Better still. Why don’t I schedule an appointment with a personal shopper and drop you off at Bloomingdale’s? That way you won’t be able to wriggle out of it the way you seem to have been doing.’

      She blinked. ‘What’s Bloomingdale’s?’

      He frowned. ‘You’re kidding?’

      ‘Lucas, this is a big city and I’m exploring it the best I can! I can’t be expected to know every single name which trips off your tongue.’

      ‘It just happens to be one of the best department stores in the city, possibly the world,’ he commented drily. ‘And I’ll drop you off there tomorrow morning, on my way to work.’

      ‘But we might not be able to get an appointment so soon,’ she objected.

      His brief smile managed to be both dismissive and entitled. ‘Don’t worry about that,’ he drawled as he parted her thighs with insistent fingers. ‘We’ll get one. You haven’t forgotten that you’re cooking dinner for six on Friday, have you?’

      ‘No, Lucas. I haven’t forgotten. I’ve been racking my brains to come up with a menu for days.’ She swallowed. ‘And you doing that to me isn’t exactly helping me work out what to give them for dessert.’

      ‘Damn the dessert,’ he growled.

      But by the following morning Tara felt sick with nerves at the thought of presenting herself to a professional stylist, horribly aware of the plainness and age of her bra and pants and wishing she could skip the whole ordeal. Because it turned out that Lucas had been right and there were any number of slots available for a man like him at short notice.

      Reluctantly, she joined him in the back of his car, which then proceeded to get snarled up in the early-morning traffic. It was stop-start all the way and Tara started to feel even more queasy. ‘It’s very stuffy in here.’

      ‘I’ll turn up the A/C.’

      ‘I don’t want any more air-conditioning. I want to get out and walk,’ she croaked.

      He shot her a quick glance. ‘Are you okay?’

      ‘I will be when I’m outside in the fresh air.’

      ‘Fine. Come on, I’ll walk you there.’

      ‘Honestly, there’s no need. I can find the store perfectly well on my own and I don’t want you to be late for your meeting.’

      ‘Tara,’ he said patiently, his voice underpinned with