Page 11 of The Return of Her Billionaire Husband

Knowing now he was doing something for others was all very well, but what about helping her through the worst time of her life? She had stood by their baby’s grave alone. Time and time again, she had grieved in isolation. ‘But I don’t get it. You tell me you’ve donated money and, knowing you, it would be a significant amount, but you haven’t once visited her grave since the funeral.’

His mouth went into a tight line. ‘Graveyards aren’t my thing. I prefer to pay my respects in other ways.’

Every week when Juliette visited her baby’s grave, she hoped to see flowers or a card or toy left by Joe. But there was nothing. She couldn’t understand it and nor could she forgive it, in spite of his generosity to others. He came to London for work regularly—how hard would it have been to drop by the cemetery and hand-deliver flowers or a soft toy? Or didn’t he want to be reminded of their baby and their broken marriage?

‘Were you keeping away in case you ran into me?’ She couldn’t tone down the accusing note in her voice.

He looked down at her with an unreadable expression. His features could have been carved in stone. ‘How often do you go?’

‘Every week.’

‘Does it help your grieving process?’

Juliette blew out a frustrated breath. ‘Nothing helps with that. But at least I feel I’m not ignoring her.’

‘Is that what you think I’m doing?’

She raised her chin to a combative height. ‘Aren’t you?’

He drew in another sharp breath and turned again to look at the view. His posture was stiff and tight as if invisible steel cables were holding him upright. ‘There’s no right way to grieve, Juliette. What works for one might not work for someone else.’ He spoke through gritted teeth, his hands thrust back in his trouser pockets.

‘And is your grieving process working?’

He turned his head to look at her with a grim expression. ‘What do you think?’

Juliette shifted her mouth from side to side and looked away. Trouble was, she didn’t know what to think. He had never behaved the way she had expected him to behave. He hadn’t expressed the words she had wanted to hear or done the things she had hoped he would do. Their relationship had been based on his sense of duty towards her and the baby, so when the baby was lost there was no reason to stay together. He hadn’t given her a good enough reason to continue their relationship. He hadn’t expressed any feelings for her. But then, neither had she for him. She had been incapable of expressing anything but profound grief, which had in time morphed into anger.

She schooled her features into coolly impersonal lines and turned to face him again. ‘I think you’re secretly relieved we no longer have a reason to stay together.’

His jaw worked for a moment and his mouth tightened into a flat line. ‘Let’s leave that discussion until later. We’re at our friends’ wedding, remember?’ And, without another word, he turned and left her with nothing but the company of the ocean-scented breeze.

CHAPTER FIVE

AFTER THE BRIEF wedding rehearsal Joe made idle conversation with some of the other guests but his mind was stuck on Juliette. He kept searching for her in the knot of people, a tight fluttering sensation going through his chest every time he caught sight of her honey-brown head in the crowd.

He had thought often of going to the cemetery where their baby was buried in England but each time he baulked. His father had dragged him to his mother’s graveside to pay his respects on each and every birthday until he was a teenager. It had been a form of torture to stand by that headstone knowing he was the reason his mother was beneath it. No amount of wishing and praying and hoping could bring his mother or his baby daughter back. No number of visits, flowers or cards could undo what was done. He had always found his father’s way of grieving a destructive process. Joe had chosen a different outlet—a constructive way of processing his grief by raising money for the research that would hopefully save lives and, no doubt, relationships.

But now, touching Juliette, standing next to her, breathing in the scent of her stirred his blood and upped his pulse and made him wonder if there was a chance something positive could come out of their situation. The chemistry was still there, as hot and electric as ever. The explosive chemistry that had kick-started their relationship was the one thing he could rely on to get it going again. He felt the pull of it like an invisible force drawing him to her. He’d had to stuff his hands in his pockets to stop reaching for her. He couldn’t be in the same room as her without wanting her. Damn it—he couldn’t be in the same country without aching with the need to take her in his arms.

Juliette turned and looked at him across the now moonlit terrace and a small creature scuttled through the ventricles of his heart. Girl-next-door-pretty rather than classically beautiful, she still had the power to snatch his breath. Her grey-blue eyes reminded him of a deep stormy sea with shifting shadows. Her slim frame was ballerina-like with a natural elegance of movement. And her skin was pale but she had a dusting of freckles over the bridge of her upturned nose that reminded him of sprinkled nutmeg. Her mouth was a Cupid’s bow of pink lushness that drew his gaze like a magnet and he realised with a sharp pang how much he missed her sunshine-bright smile. Not those fake ones she flashed when required but a genuine one that lit up her face and eyes.

Juliette’s gaze shifted back to the older couple next to her who were the bride’s parents, but Joe could see she wasn’t really engaged in the conversation. She kept chewing at her lower lip and fiddling with the clasp of her evening purse as if she couldn’t wait for the evening to be over.

And soon it would be over and they would be alone in their suite.

The string quartet was playing dance numbers and several couples were dancing further along the terrace. He remembered the first time he’d danced with Juliette, how she had moved with him with such natural rhythm as if they had been dancing together for years.

Making love had been the same.

After their one-night stand and they had gone their separate ways, he hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind. He’d had commitments back in Italy and then another project in Germany but he hadn’t stopped thinking about her. And then, out of the blue, she’d called him and told him she was carrying his child. The news had stunned him. They had used protection but fate had decided to step in and create a new life. A life that hadn’t lasted long enough to take a single independent breath.

Joe let out a long sigh as the familiar pain seized his chest whenever he thought of his tiny baby daughter. He blamed himself for not being there when Juliette went into early labour. Perhaps if he had been there to take her to hospital earlier things might have panned out differently. There were so many things he wished he had done differently.

Joe wove through the small crowd to join her, taking one of her hands in his. ‘Would you like to dance?’ He figured it was one way he could legitimately hold her in his arms. And, more importantly, stop her from dancing with anyone else.

She looked as if she were about to refuse, but then she shrugged, not quite meeting his gaze. ‘Sure. Why not?’

Joe led her to the part of the terrace set up for dancing, overlooking the ocean below. The string quartet was now playing a romantic ballad and he gathered her close, moving with her to the slow rhythm of the music. ‘You didn’t look like you were enjoying the conversation you were having back there,’ he said, breathing in the flowery scent of her hair.

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