Page 7 of Bound by Their Christmas Baby

‘So I’ve been told.’

He looked down at her again. She was slim. Too slim. Her figure had been pleasingly rounded when they’d met, curves in all the places Gabe—and any red-blooded man—fantasised about. Now, she was supermodel slender.

Her body was a minefield of distraction, but he’d been down that path before. No good would come from worshipping her physical perfection. He refocused his attention on the matter at hand: the sooner they dealt with it, the sooner she’d be gone and this would be over.

‘Why does it matter?’ he demanded. ‘We both know you don’t need to work—even if poor Rémy was foolish enough to believe your act. So, what’s the big deal?’

‘You’re wrong.’

‘Rarely.’

‘I needed that job. I needed the money.’

‘Your father’s company?’ he asked, frowning, a hint of something like genuine interest colouring the words. ‘It hasn’t gone bankrupt?’ He’d have heard, surely.

‘No—’ she shook her head ‘—I think he’s holding it together. But I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to him in a long time.’

‘Oh?’ Gabe was no longer losing interest in this. His blood was racing through his body and he took a step towards her, unconsciously moving closer. ‘Why is that?’

She swallowed, and appeared to be weighing her words—something Gabe hated. Liars always thought about what they wanted to say, and she was an exceptional liar.

‘He threw me out,’ she said, the words tremulous even though her eyes met his with a fierce strength.

‘He…threw you out?’ Gabe, rarely surprised, felt that emotion now. ‘Your father?’

‘Yes.’

Why was he so shocked? He knew enough of cruel fathers and their ability to abuse their children’s affections to know Lionel Howard was capable of everything Abigail claimed.

‘Because of me?’

She nodded.

Gabe’s curse was softly voiced but forceful, and it filled the room. ‘Your father threw you out because you didn’t have photos of the Calypso project?’

‘No.’ She shook her head, her skin pale. ‘Not exactly.’

Gabe waited, but his impatience was making it difficult.

‘I mean, he was furious that morning. Furious that I had come back empty-handed. But it was a fury born of desperation, you know? He was desperate, Gabe. My dad isn’t a bad person, he’s just…’

‘Why,’ he interrupted coldly, ‘do you think I want to talk about your father?’

‘You have to understand…’

She was quicksand. He’d let her in and now he was sinking—back into her web of lies, her intriguing fascination. What a fool he’d been to think he could talk to her and not fall down this rabbit hole of desire.

‘No, I don’t. I don’t “have” to do anything where you’re concerned. I don’t know why you’re here. I don’t know why I didn’t have you escorted from the building. But I’m done. This is over.’

‘Wait.’ She licked her lower lip and then lifted her hand to her hair, toying with the ends in an unmistakably nervous gesture. ‘I’m trying to explain.’

‘Explain what?’

‘That night—it wasn’t what you think. I mean, I know I came to you because of Calypso, but from the minute I met you, that was just about you and me, and the way we felt.’

‘And yet you still took photographs. You thought you could have your cake and eat it too? A night with me and the chance to salvage your father’s company thrown into the mix?’

‘No. I didn’t think it through, obviously.’ She pulled a face. ‘I know it’s no excuse and it must sound pathetic to someone like you. It’s just… I’ve always done what he asked of me. It’s hard to rewire that.’

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