‘Yes, well…’ Phoebe murmured.
Jed talking about his family was bittersweet. When they’d been together before he had mentioned his sister and her two girls once, and told her his mother had died when he was a teenager, but she had no idea his father had been married four times. In fact she knew very little about him really, other than that he was great in bed, she thought, her blue eyes roaming over his attractive face, lingering on his mobile mouth. Involuntarily she licked her lips, remembering the heady pleasure of his kisses. She felt the increased throb of her pulse through her whole body and swiftly lowered her gaze to the half-empty glass in her hand, shamed by her helpless lust for Jed.
‘Maybe some day,’ she muttered, afraid to look at him. Afraid he would recognise how she was feeling. She watched as he topped up her glass and put his own down on the table.
‘Maybe is not good enough, Phoebe,’ Jed declared, and she took a long drink of champagne to steady her racing pulse. ‘I want him to know his Greek family. It is unfair to Ben and unfair to me. He needs to know I am his father, and tomorrow I am going to tell him—whether you like it or not. It would be much better to agree on the moment between us, here and now.’
Obviously she was wrong. Jed had no idea her thoughts had wandered into the erotic. He wasn’t interested in her half as much as in her son, as his last statement proved. She stared up into his glittering eyes and saw the determination in the dark depths. A shiver of fear slithered down her spine. She took another great gulp of champagne and it gave her the confidence to deny him.
‘No, I think you are being a bit premature. Ben needs time to get to know you—to adjust.’
Jed had had enough of playing it cool. It wasn’t getting him anywhere. ‘Premature…That is rich, coming from you.’ His tone dripped sarcasm. ‘A woman who was apparently quite happy to let Ben grow up believing his father was unknown. How do you think that makes me feel?’ he demanded. ‘It was sheer coincidence we met again, and it was only your inability to keep the panic out of your eyes that made me suspect something. But not for a second did I think it was my child you were hiding. I can see he is well taken care of, but instead of two women working to support him I should have been supporting him. I believe in taking care of my own.’
Phoebe’s lips twitched. ‘Don’t beat yourself up over it. You have been in a way.’ She giggled.
‘You think this is a laughing matter—and what do you mean, in a way? he demanded starkly.
‘Simple. The jewellery you gave me funded my teacher training, and that ostentatious diamond necklace alone allowed me to buy the cottage next to my aunt’s. The rest bought this caravan. So you see you have nothing to feel guilty about on the monetary front.’ Promptly she hiccupped, then added, ‘Though on the moral front paying for sex with jewels is definitely sleazy. But, hey—according to you I had earned them, so I kept them and spent them.’
Ignoring her last comment—he had never really thought of Phoebe that way, but he wasn’t going to argue—Jed glanced around the caravan.
‘You actually sold the presents I gave you?’
He pictured the converted cottage and was stunned to think the things he had given her, the cost of which had been a mere drop in the ocean to him, had helped support Phoebe in her career and everything else for five years. He spent more in a month.
‘Yes. Well, most of them.’
Unable to help himself, Jed looped an arm around her waist and, catching her chin between his thumb and fingers, tilted her face to his. Her blue eyes sparkled as she gave him a brilliant smile.
‘I kept the hairclip for a rainy day.’
The champagne had certainly loosened her tongue, Jed realized. She would probably never have told him the truth stone-cold sober. It made him feel a lot better, knowing he had provided something for Ben—although unwittingly.
‘You didn’t have to tell me that, but I’m glad that you did.’ Unable to resist the temptation, he brushed his lips gently against hers.
‘My pleasure,’ she murmured as long lashes fluttered down over her blue eyes.
Her head fell back against the curve of his shoulder, exposing her slender throat, and her hand dropped on to his thigh. He tensed, raising his head to let his dark gaze roam over her delicate features and lower, to where her breasts were outlined by the blue velvet V-neck top she wore. The ache in his groin he had been fighting all day intensified.
Phoebe looked up at him, all soft and willing, her lips slightly parted, and he could not resist lowering his head again and licking the lush outline of her mouth, before allowing his tongue to dip inside and lightly stroke hers. Then he withdrew to trail kisses down the elegant length of her throat.
‘I swore I would not do this again.’
Phoebe was beguiled by the lazy gentle kiss and the caress, but Jed’s huskily drawled comment penetrated the champagne-induced fog in her brain. Suddenly she realised his arm was around her shoulders and she was curled up against him, her hand on his leg, her slender fingers massaging a muscular thigh.
For the life of her she could not understand how she had got herself in this position yet again with a man she had despised and feared for the past five years. Too much champagne, that was how…
‘You are not doing anything,’ she said, struggling to sit up and swiftly removing her hand from his thigh. ‘In fact you can take yourself off to a hotel. I don’t trust you here.’ She moved along the seat, out of his reach. She didn’t dare stand up as she felt a little dizzy. She hoped from the champagne rather than from his kiss.
‘You don’t trust yourself, Phoebe, and I am going nowhere. But don’t worry—I will be strong for both of us.’
Jed’s amused drawl infuriated her, and getting to her feet she stared at him. ‘The middle of the sofa folds down. There’s linen on the table to make up the bed. I am going to mine, and I don’t want to see or hear you until tomorrow morning, you conceited, arrogant pig.’
Jed let her go…
Picking up his mobile phone, he flicked through the photos he had taken during the day and smiled. His son…Benjamin…The knowledge was still new, but the steely glint in his eyes as he came to the end of the pictures was not. Irrespective of Phoebe, whatever it took Ben was family and he was going to live with him…
He glanced at the time before switching to his messages. Ten in the evening—when had he ever gone to bed so early? he mused. The last time he’d actually spent the whole night with Phoebe. Not a good night to remember. The sex had been incredible, but the morning after had been a disaster.
He caught up with his calls, and then, connecting his laptop to a secure wireless network, worked solidly for the next three hours. A few problems had arisen that he was going to have to attend to in person in London, he realised as he finally signed off. He had not been out of the office for so long in years, and before that he had not been concentrating but wondering about Phoebe. Now he knew the incredible truth he was energised and itching to get back to work—and with a son and heir he had an added incentive.
He wasn’t wasting any more time trying to talk sensibly to Phoebe. Tomorrow he was going to tell Ben he was his father and take it from there. The sexy, malleable girl of twenty-one had morphed into an even sexier, sophisticated but stubborn woman. He could wait. She would come round to his way of thinking in the end—in his experience women always did.
He was not a conceited man, but endowed with looks, brains and wealth—especially wealth—he had never met a woman yet who would not jump to marry him given half a chance. Phoebe was no different. The lure of a life of luxury would eventually overcome any scruples she might have. But he was not waiting for his son.