Da Rocha's Convenient Heir. Jane PorterЧитать онлайн книгу.

       CHAPTER TWO

      ‘ARE YOU WORRIED about something?’ Freddie asked Claire gently, striving to redirect her anxiety about meeting up with Zac in an hour’s time towards something hopefully less threatening to her peace of mind. ‘You’ve seemed so preoccupied lately...’

      Her aunt, a brunette with her hair tied up in a casual ponytail, shrugged a shoulder and almost squirmed in her seat beneath Freddie’s troubled appraisal. ‘Oh, you know...things get on top of me sometimes.’

      ‘You must miss Richard,’ Freddie said sympathetically, because Claire’s boyfriend had recently gone out to Spain to help his parents set up the business they had bought out there. At the same time he was expected home within days.

      ‘Obviously,’ Claire muttered rather cuttingly, rising from the kitchen table with heightened colour in her cheeks. ‘I’ve got some emails to catch up on. See you later.’

      And there it was, the refusal to spill the beans again, Freddie reflected ruefully while wondering if she should simply mind her own business because the two women had never been best friends who shared everything. Furthermore, didn’t she have enough to worry about?

      Ever since she had made that agreement with Zac da Rocha, she had been regretting it. Her worst sin was impulsiveness. What if the guy turned nasty? From his point of view, she would be wasting his time and he would probably refuse to cough up the money he had offered, so all she was likely to do was embarrass herself and infuriate him. Was that wise when he could—possibly—be her employer? Ridiculous as it still seemed to Freddie, the rumour of his ownership of the hotel was spreading in spite of the fact that for some strange reason he apparently didn’t want anyone to know.

      Regret and uncertainty stabbing at her nerves, she had tried to take a rain check on the arrangement she had made with him by text, but Zac was set on denying her any wriggle room while adding that he was looking forward to seeing her, which, in the circumstances, only made Freddie feel worse because by no stretch of the imagination was it going to be a date.

      Yet, for all that awareness, Freddie found herself taking more care with her appearance than she usually did on such trips. Her hair was freshly washed and she put on her best jeans and newest top while also ensuring that the children looked presentable. Eloise danced alongside the buggy containing Jack because she adored the park where she could swing and run about. Freddie approached the bench by the central fountain where she had arranged to meet Zac and breathed in deep and slow.

      ‘Who we meeting?’ Eloise demanded again.

      ‘A man. A...a friend,’ Freddie fibbed.

      ‘Name?’ Eloise pressed.

      ‘It’s Zac,’ Freddie told her reluctantly, fairly sure that Zac would not last five minutes in their company once he registered that she had called his bluff in the most basic way possible. Did he even have a sense of humour?

      Freddie stood up to pace the instant she saw Zac in the distance. He was so tall he was easy to spot. Jack grizzled to get out of the buggy and, with a sigh, she freed him, praying that she could keep him out of the water because she had not brought spare clothing out with her. Jack had confounded all expectations by getting up and walking at ten months old on his sturdy little legs. He had never crawled, he had just pulled himself up to walk and Freddie had discovered that her baby boy was suddenly a toddler with even less wit than the average toddler because he was still so young.

      Eloise pushed the empty buggy along the path, Jack at her side. Freddie focussed on Zac’s approach, her heart beating very, very fast until it reached such a pitch that even breathing became a challenge. It was nerves, she told herself. He strode with the innate fluidity of a predator and she was hyperaware of every facet of him: the blue-black hair blowing back from his bronzed and perfect features, the sheer beauty of his bold masculinity in the sunlight, those strikingly light eyes of his, the colour of which she was still unsure of, glittering with the same charisma as his wide slashing smile. Oh, heavens, he was going to hate her, she thought with a sudden sharp pang of regret that startled her.

      * * *

      Were those kids with her? Surely not, Zac reasoned, deeming her too young for such a role while glancing around hopefully for another adult and failing to see one in the vicinity. They were her kids? She had kids? And not just a modest single one, but two? Inferno, what had he got himself into? But Zac had always been a quick study and light on his feet and he was careful not to betray an ounce of his discomfiture while feasting his attention on the slender blonde by the fountain. It was her body, he told himself urgently, just something about those seemingly fragile little bones and tiny curves that hugely turned him on. Or maybe it was the hair, thick and streaky blonde and definitely natural in his opinion, long twirling strands with a slight wave shifting in the breeze. Or was it the face, the unexpectedly dark eyes that were so much more unusual with that hair colour than blue? Or that incredibly voluptuous pink mouth of hers that left him painfully turned on?

      Meu Deus, she was finally smiling at him and it lit up her solemn little face like the sun. True, the smile was a tad awkward and stiff, which it ought to be, considering that she had set him up with two kids in tow. Involuntarily, Zac was amused for no woman had ever tried to block him with children before, and he also knew that if he had known in advance what her reservations related to he would have run a mile, because kids and the freedom he valued so highly didn’t work together at all. And how the hell could she even try to fulfil the bet with Vitale for him with two little kids around? To his intense annoyance, the possibility of retaining his precious sports car seemed to move further out of his grasp.

      ‘Well, you said you wanted to get to know me,’ Freddie reminded him with more than a little desperation, for the silence had stretched far longer than she could be comfortable with. ‘And this is my life pretty much...the kids.’

      Zac watched her settle down on the bench while the little girl hovered with huge dark eyes below her mop of blonde curls and the baby clung to her knees. ‘What do you call them?’ he asked.

      ‘I’m Eloise,’ the little girl informed him importantly while lifting up her dress to show off her underwear.

      ‘Eloise, leave your dress alone,’ Freddie interposed.

      ‘And you’re Auntie Freddie’s friend, Zac,’ Eloise completed, skipping over to him to grab his bare arm where a tattoo of a dragon writhed. ‘What’s that?’

      ‘A dragon.’

      ‘Like in my storybook?’ Eloise screamed with excitement.

      ‘And this is Jack,’ Freddie supplied, her face pink with embarrassment.

      ‘Auntie Freddie?’ Zac queried, his hopes rising afresh while the little girl clambered uninvited onto his lap, the better to examine his tattoo.

      ‘Get down, Eloise,’ Freddie instructed.

      Eloise ignored her. Zac lifted the child down onto the bench between them and extended his arm in the slender hope of getting some peace.

      ‘I can’t really talk about it here with little ears,’ Freddie admitted awkwardly, wondering if ever a woman had been more punished for trying to outface a man. ‘But my sister...er...passed last year.’

      ‘And there’s no one else?’ Zac pressed, insanely conscious of the little girl’s eyes clinging to his.

      ‘Well, there’s my aunt, Claire, who’s twenty-eight and their official foster carer, but my agreement with her is that she’s the official but I do the caring,’ Freddie volunteered in a horrid rush that mortified her because she felt as if she were apologising for