Modern Romance February Books 5-8. Jane Porter

I’m just trying to fix this.’

      ‘Fix what?’ She glanced up at him, and then away into the darkness. ‘Me? Us? Because I don’t need fixing, thank you very much, and there is no us.’

      ‘So what was last night about?’

      ‘Last night was about sex, Aristo.’

      ‘Not sex—passion,’ he said softly.

      ‘Whatever! It’s just chemistry, pheromones.’ She made her voice sound casual, even though her fingernails were digging into the palms of her hand. ‘That’s all.’

      ‘That’s all?’ he repeated incredulously. ‘You think last night was run of the mill?’

      ‘No, of course not.’ Her cheeks flushed. ‘I’m not saying what we have isn’t special. I know it is—that’s why we’ve got this arrangement. So can’t we just enjoy it? Do we have to keep talking about marriage?’

      A muscle flickered in his jawline. ‘Yes, we do. This “arrangement” works here, but it’s not practical long-term.’

      ‘Practical?’ She took a deep breath. ‘I thought we were talking about passion, not putting up some bookshelves.’

      He gazed at her steadily, but she saw something flare in his dark eyes.

      ‘So how do you see it working, then, Teddie? Is it going to be sex in the afternoons, when George is at school? Are we going to have to get up early and move beds every time one of us sleeps over?’ His lip curled. ‘But I’m guessing you don’t even have a spare bed, so what will happen? Are you expecting me to sleep on the sofa?’

      Her hands clenched into fists. ‘That’s the point. I’m not expecting anything. And you shouldn’t expect anything from me—particularly marriage.’

      She might as well not have spoken. Even as she watched him searching through that handsome head of his for some new line of attack he was already speaking.

      ‘You told me you wanted us to be honest with one another.’

      Heart pounding, she stared at him in mute frustration. ‘So be honest! What you really want from me is sex, but you need me to be your wife because you want a wife.’

      ‘Not just a wife. I want you.’

      She shook her head. ‘You don’t want me—not really.’

      ‘I know you don’t believe that.’

      ‘You don’t know anything about me,’ she snapped. She was starting to feel cornered, hemmed in by his refusal to see anything except from his own point of view. ‘And what’s more you don’t want to know.’

      Watching his jaw tighten, she knew that he was biting down on his temper.

      ‘That’s not true.’

      ‘Yes, it is. You have this idea of what a wife should be, and I’m not it, Aristo.’ She took a breath, trying to stay calm. ‘Please don’t bother trying to pretend I’m wrong. There’s no point. I know I’m not enough. I’ve known that since I was five years old—’

      She broke off, startled not just by the stunned look on Aristo’s face but by the words she’d spoken out loud, for up until now her the subject of her father had always been a conversational no-go area.

      ‘What are you talking about?’ he said slowly.

      She shook her head, not trusting herself to speak, frightened by what she might say next. ‘It’s nothing,’ she said finally. ‘Just a sad little story you don’t want to hear.’

      His heart in his mouth, fearful of losing her but more fearful of chasing her away, he watched her walk into the darkness, counting slowly to ten inside his head before following her.

      She was sitting by the pool, head lowered, feet dangling into the water.

      ‘I do want to hear it. I want to hear everything.’

      The beams from the underwater lights lit up her fine features as though she was standing on a stage, about to perform a monologue—which she was, in a way, he thought, watching her slim shoulders rise and fall in time with her breathing.

      There was a tight little pause, and then she said quietly, ‘The first time my dad left I didn’t miss him. I was too young—just a baby. He came back when I was about George’s age, maybe a bit older.’

      She lifted her face and his breathing stilled at the expression on her face. She looked just as he imagined she would have done as a little girl, just like George had looked when he’d told him that he was his father—solemn and shy, eyes wide with wonder.

      ‘What happened?’ He made himself ask the question but he already knew the answer. He could see it in the pulse beating savagely in her throat.

      ‘He stayed long enough that I minded when he left, which was when I was about five. And then again when I was eight, then nine.’

      She looked up at him briefly and he nodded, for he had no idea what to say.

      ‘He was always chasing some get-rich-quick scheme, making promises he couldn’t keep, borrowing money he couldn’t pay back, gambling the money he did have on the horses. And sometimes he’d get out a pack of cards and teach me a trick. He was good—he probably could have made a career out of magic—but he liked taking risks and that’s what he did when I was fourteen. He pretended to be a lawyer and got caught trying to con some widow out of her life savings.’

      She looked away, and Aristo could tell that she was fighting to stay calm.

      ‘I think he’d been lucky up until then. He was so handsome and charming he could usually get away with most things. But maybe his luck had run out or his charm couldn’t hide all his lies any more. Anyway, he got sent to prison for eight years.’

      Her eyes met his and she gave him a small, bleak smile that felt like a blade slicing into his skin.

      This time he couldn’t stay silent. ‘I’m so sorry… I can’t imagine what that must have been like for you.’

      Nor had he ever tried. Of course he hadn’t known the full story, but he had been too wrapped up in his own fears and doubts to consider it.

      He’d sensed a wariness in her but, looking back, he knew that each time she’d hesitated he had simply ignored the signs and used his charm to convince her—just like he’d done in Vegas.

      ‘Do you know what’s the really sad part? Him being in prison was okay. It was actually better than how it was when he normally disappeared. You see, it was the first time I actually knew where he was. And he was pleased to see me, and that had hardly ever happened before. Usually he was distracted by some stupid scam.’

      And then she’d met him, Aristo thought, swallowing, feeling shame burning his throat. A man who had brought her to a tall tower in a strange city, showered her with gifts and promises he hadn’t known how to keep, then neglected her—not for some stupid scam, but for the infinitely more important and pressing business of building an empire.

      No wonder she found it so difficult to trust. Her father had laid the foundations and he had unthinkingly reinforced her reasons to feel that way.

      ‘I don’t know how you survive something like that,’ he said quietly. Except Teddie hadn’t just survived. She’d faced insurmountable obstacles and triumphed.

      She shrugged. ‘It got worse before it got better. My mum lost it—big-time. I kept having to stay home to take care of her so my school got involved, and then I had to go and live with foster parents. Only, we weren’t a good fit and I kept running away, so basically I ended up in care.’

      Teddie swallowed. She couldn’t look at him, not wanting to see the diffidence or, worse, the pity in his eyes.

      ‘It wasn’t all bad, though. That’s where I met Elliot,’