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Married For Their Miracle Baby
Soraya Lane
From one night…to millionaire’s wife!Ex-ballerina Saffron Wells is swept off her feet for one magical night by tycoon Blake Goldsmith, but she doesn’t expect it to end with a convenient proposal to help him secure a business deal!Since discovering she couldn’t have children, dancing was Saffron’s only dream. An injury forced her to quit but as Blake’s bride, he promises her the treatment she needs to recover. Except soon Saffron discovers that another secret dream has come true – she’s pregnant! So what does this mean for their fake marriage…?



Now it was Blake’s laughter filling the space between them. “Marry me.”
Her smiled died faster than it had ignited, falling from her mouth. She stared back at him, eyebrows drawing slightly closer together. “I think I misheard you.”
“Look,” he said, spreading his hands wide as he watched her. “If you married someone like me, you would have access to the best medical treatments, and you could stay in New York without any worries.”
She did a slow nod. “Funnily enough I’ve been joking with my friends for weeks that I need to find a wealthy husband. Not that I would ever be some kind of gold digger,” she added quickly. “I’m used to having a successful career and standing on my own two feet.”
Blake shrugged. “What if we did it? If we got married so you could stay in New York? I could pay for any specialist treatment you need to get you dancing again.”
Her gaze was uncertain, maybe even cool. He couldn’t figure out exactly what she thought now that her smile had disappeared. “I know why it would be good for me, I just don’t get why you’d want to do it. What’s in it for you? Why would you want to help me?”
“Marriage to a beautiful ballerina?” he suggested.
“Blake, I’m serious. Why would you marry me unless there’s something in it for you?”
Married for
Their Miracle
Baby
Soraya Lane


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
As a child, SORAYA LANE dreamed of becoming an author. Fast-forward a few years, and Soraya is now living her dream! She describes being an author as “the best job in the world.” She lives with her own real-life hero and two young sons on a small farm in New Zealand, surrounded by animals, with an office overlooking a field where their horses graze.
For more information about Soraya, her books and her writing life, visit www.sorayalane.com (http://www.sorayalane.com).
For my mother, Maureen.
Thank you for everything.
Contents
Cover (#u545c912c-b75d-50ea-9f5f-28d12254d9eb)
Introduction (#u4d0dde4f-e447-54bf-8c72-2c2f69b92e4e)
Title Page (#u613c11e4-a2a3-584e-afa5-02464237b36e)
About the Author (#ua0ec5ebb-349d-586e-8a56-7a8ce10ee788)
Dedication (#u23cff042-9c4d-55fd-9ee9-cdc4da159136)
CHAPTER ONE (#u46340c7a-949b-5f67-b4b7-703418045ea7)
CHAPTER TWO (#ua633eae0-9d49-5725-b17c-4254073dcf0c)
CHAPTER THREE (#u3f458ebf-5f4d-57e9-8acf-5d301ac4cbf2)
CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_5a5cf173-2a2c-545b-8746-937172bf62df)
BLAKE GOLDSMITH TOOK a slow sip of whiskey, enjoying the burn of the straight liquor as he swallowed. He wasn’t a big drinker, but he’d fast developed a taste for whiskey on the rocks to help get him through the torturous task of attending cocktail parties and gala events. He gazed down at the ice sitting forlorn in the glass. Darn. He either had to go without or brave the crowd mingling near the bar again. Neither option appealed to him right now.
Instead he decided to stretch his legs and head outside. If anyone stopped him, he could blame his departure on needing some fresh air. As soon as the auction was over, he was heading home anyway. He craved the solitude of flying, the closeness of being with his unit when he was serving. If he had half the chance, he’d be hightailing it to wherever they were stationed and not coming back. If only that were an option.
“Excuse me,” he muttered, touching a woman’s elbow as he passed, eyes downcast so he didn’t have to engage.
After a while, everyone started to look the same—a sea of black tuxedos and white shirts mixed with elegant women in sparkly dresses. He should have been used to it by now, but playing the black sheep turned good wasn’t a part he’d ever wanted, and neither was being part of glittering society parties.
Wow. Blake squared his shoulders, stood a little straighter as he stared across the room. She was standing alone, back to the large windows that overlooked a twinkling New York City below. Her dark red hair was loose and falling over her shoulders, lipstick bright in contrast to her pale skin. She was like a perfectly formed doll, her posture perfect, one hand holding a full glass of champagne, the other clasping a tiny purse. In a room where all the women were starting to look scarily similar with their perfectly coiffed updos and black dresses, she was like the breath of fresh air he’d been so desperately craving only moments before.
Blake didn’t waste time. She was alone, which meant she was either waiting for her date to return or actually solo. Either way, he wanted to get to her before anyone else did. He might be avoiding the pressure to settle down, but introducing himself to a beautiful woman would make the night a whole lot more interesting.
He excused himself past a few more people, striding across the room, eyes locked on her. So much for a boring night out to buy some art and make the company look good. His evening was looking better by the second. Blake cleared his throat and smiled when dark brown eyes met his.
“I’d ask if you want another drink, but it doesn’t look like you’ve even touched this one,” he said. “Unless you don’t like champagne.”
The redhead laughed, tipping back a little so her hair tumbled over her shoulders, the unblemished skin of her neck on show. “I love champagne. I’m just...”
Blake laughed. “Bored?”
She grimaced, and it only made him like her more. “Yeah,” she said softly. “You could say that.”
“I’m Blake,” he said, holding out a hand. “Blake Goldsmith.”
She reached hers out and he shook it, her skin warm against his. “Saffron Wells.”
“So what’s a girl like you doing here alone?”
“A bored girl?” she asked.
Blake raised an eyebrow. “No, a beautiful one.”
Her smile was sweet. “I promised a friend I’d come, but it’s not really my thing.” Saffron shrugged. “She’s an artist—one of her pieces is being auctioned tonight, so I couldn’t really say no. Besides, I don’t get out much.”
She might feel out of place, but she sure looked the part, as if it was exactly her scene. Blake glanced down when she looked away, eyes traveling over her blue satin dress, admiring her legs. It was short and strapless, and it took every inch of his willpower to stop staring. She was a knockout.
“So what do you do?” he asked.
“I’m having some time out right now,” she replied, her smile fading. “I’m just making coffee and...”
Blake cringed, wishing he’d asked something less invasive. He hadn’t wanted to put her on the spot or make her uncomfortable. “I love coffee. The barista at my local café is my favorite person in the world.”
“How about you?” she asked.
Now Blake was really regretting his line of questioning. He’d walked straight into that one. “Family business. I’m here tonight because no one else would take my place.”
“Poor you.”
“Yeah, something like that.” Blake hated talking about himself, and he liked the fact that this beautiful woman seemed to have no idea who he was. If he read another tabloid or blog article about his most-eligible-bachelor status, he’d lose it. And the lies surrounding his dad’s death were driving him to drink. So to chat with a woman like Saffron and not deal with any of that was refreshing to say the least.
A waiter passed and Blake held up a hand, beckoning him over. He smiled and placed his empty whiskey glass on the tray, taking a champagne and putting it into Saffron’s hand. He removed her other one, ignoring the look of protest on her face, and then he took another glass for himself.
“I was perfectly happy nursing that,” she said.
“Nothing worse than warm champagne,” Blake told her. “Want to get some fresh air?”
Saffron’s smile was small, but it was there. “Sure. Any excuse to get out of here.”
Blake grinned back and touched the small of her back as she turned, guiding her to the only exit he could see. There was a large balcony, which was probably full of smokers, but the room was stifling and he didn’t care.
“Excuse me.” A loud voice boomed through the speakers, making him turn. “May I have your attention please?”
Blake groaned. Just as he’d been about to escape... “Want to make a run for it?” he murmured, leaning down to whisper into Saffron’s ear. Her hair smelled like perfume, and it was soft against his cheek when she tipped her head back.
“I think we need to stay,” she whispered in reply, dark brown eyes locked on his for a second. “As much as I’d love to disappear.”
Blake shrugged. He would have happily disappeared and made a phone bid, but he wasn’t about to leave the most interesting woman he’d seen all evening. Her dark red hair stood out in a sea of bright blondes and raven-haired heads, the color subtle but stunning. And in a room full of slim woman, she seemed even smaller, but not in a skinny way. Blake had noticed the way she was standing when he’d first seen her, her posture perfect, limbs long yet muscled, her body even more sculptured up close than it had appeared from afar. He was intrigued.
“Thank you all for being here tonight to raise funds for underprivileged children right here in New York City,” the host said. Blake was tall, so even from the back of the room he could see what was going on, but he doubted Saffron would be able to see a thing. She was almost a head shorter than him. “Funds raised tonight will help to provide a winter assistance package for under-twelve-year-old children who don’t have the basics to help them through our harsh colder months. They will receive a warm coat, shoes, hat, pajamas and other things so many of us take for granted.”
Blake glanced down at Saffron. He watched her raise the slender glass to her mouth, taking a sip. He did the same, even though champagne wasn’t his usual drink of choice.
“This is my friend’s piece,” Saffron said, meeting his gaze for a moment. “She’s been working on this on and off all year, as part of her latest collection.”
Blake pulled the brochure from his inside jacket pocket and stared at the first painting on the crumpled paper. He wasn’t the type to get superexcited over art—all he cared about was making a sizable donation to a worthy cause—but he didn’t dislike it. The bright swirls of multicolored paint looked interesting enough, and a quick scan over the bio told him the emerging artist could be one to watch. If he got a worthwhile, long-term investment for his donation, he’d be happy.
“We’ll open the bidding at five hundred dollars,” the auctioneer said, taking over from the host.
Blake raised his hand just high enough for the spotter to see. The bidding quickly moved up to five thousand dollars, and Blake stayed with it, nodding each time now that he was being watched. He didn’t like drawing attention to himself, and from the look on Saffron’s face when the bidding stopped at just over ten thousand, even she had no idea it was him pushing the price up. He was buying on behalf of the company, so to him it was small change, but he was certain it would be exciting for an emerging artist trying to make a name for herself.
“She’ll be thrilled!” Saffron said, eyes bright as she connected with him. “All the other artists are so well-known, and...” She narrowed her gaze and he laughed.
“What?”
“Why are you smiling like that?” she asked.
Blake grinned. “I bought it,” he said simply. “Hopefully she’ll be superfamous one day, and I’ll have a good story to tell and a decent investment on the wall of my office.”
Saffron raised her glass and clinked it to his. “You’re crazy.”
“No, just in a generous mood.” Blake had done his good deed, and now he was ready to go. The auctioneer started all over again, and he placed a hand to the small of Saffron’s back. “Meet me outside? I just need to sign for the painting.” He’d intended on buying two pieces, but he decided to make a donation with his purchase instead.
He watched as she nodded. “Sure.”
Blake paused, hoping she wasn’t about to walk out on him, then decided it was a risk he was just going to have to take.
“You never did tell me which café you work at.”
She just smiled at him. “No, I don’t believe I did.”
When she didn’t elaborate, Blake walked backward a few steps, not taking his eyes off her before finally moving away. He was used to women throwing themselves at him, wanting his money, being so obvious with their intentions. Saffron was different, and he liked it. There was no desperation in her eyes, no look as though she wanted to dig her claws in and catch him, and it only made him want to get to know her all the more. If she genuinely didn’t know who he was right now, then he could be himself, and that was a role he hadn’t been able to play in a very long time.
* * *
Saffron watched Blake from across the room. She’d been dreading coming out, not looking forward to making small talk and having people ask about her injury, but so far no one had really bothered her. Until Blake. She had no idea who he was or if she was supposed to know who he was, but he’d purchased Claire’s painting as if it were no big deal, so he either had money or worked for a company that had told him to spend up. Either way she didn’t care, but she was definitely curious.
The night air was cool when she moved out, but the large balcony was virtually empty. There was a couple kissing in the corner, obscured by the shadows, so Saffy walked closer to the edge, admiring the view. She’d never tire of New York. The vibrant atmosphere, the twinkling lights, the fact the city never seemed to sleep. It had a vibe about it that she’d never known anywhere else in the world, and for the first time in her life she felt as if she belonged, as though she was where she was supposed to be.
“Am I interrupting?”
The deep rumble of a voice behind her pulled her from her thoughts and made her turn. Blake was standing a few feet away, his champagne glass hanging from one hand and almost empty, his bow tie no longer perfectly placed against his shirt. The black satin tie was messed up, his top button undone and his jacket open. Saffy thought he looked sexy and so much more interesting than the rest of the suits she’d seen inside.
“Not at all. I was just admiring the city.”
“You’re not from here, are you?” he asked, moving closer and standing beside her, gazing down at the city as she glanced at him.
“Is my accent still that obvious?” Saffron frowned. She’d lived in New York for almost ten years now, since she was sixteen, and to her own ears she sounded more like a local than a girl from a small town in Kentucky.
“It’s just a little twang every now and again. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but...” Blake laughed. “Small town?”
Saffy gave him a stare she hoped looked evil before bursting out laughing. “A little place called Maysville, in Kentucky. But I haven’t even been back in—” she sighed “—forever. You can take the girl out of the small town, but not the town out of the girl, right?”
Blake leaned against the railing and stared at her, his smile slow and steady as it spread across his face. She should have shrunk away from his stare, from his attention, but instead she bravely faced him. All the years she’d focused on her career, dancing from her childhood through her teens and then through almost all her twenties, she hadn’t had time for boyfriends. But flirting with Blake felt good, and it wasn’t as if she had anywhere else she needed to be or anything else she should be doing.
“So what’s a girl from Maysville doing in New York?” he asked.
Saffy raised her glass and took a sip, wondering how much or little to tell him. “It’s a long story.”
His grin was infectious, the way it lit up his dark eyes and made a crease form at each side of his mouth. The man was gorgeous, textbook handsome with his dark hair and even darker features, his golden skin sexy against the white of his shirt.
“It just so happens,” he said in his deep, raspy voice, “that I have all night.”
“I’d rather hear about you,” Saffy said, clearing her throat and trying not to become lost in his stare, hypnotized by his gold-flecked dark eyes.
“I’m guessing you want to open up about yourself about as much as I like talking about myself,” Blake said with a chuckle.
Saffron raised her glass again, realizing she was drinking way more than usual. She was usually too busy training to drink or socialize. Unless it had been with other dancers, she’d hardly seen anyone else, and she’d had to be so careful with her calorie count and her energy levels to waste on alcohol. She felt good tonight, though—alive and buzzing, even if it was due to the champagne and the smooth talker charming her.
“How about we agree to no personal questions then? I don’t want to talk about work or my life,” she admitted. She’d lived her work all her life as a ballerina, but every night she flexed her leg, only to be rewarded by ongoing shoots of pain, and she was reminded of what had happened. How little time she had left in the city she loved, and how quickly her dream had ended.
“It just so happens that I don’t want to talk about work, either,” Blake said. “Want to go somewhere less...” His voice trailed off.
“Dull?” she suggested.
“Yeah, dull,” he agreed, knocking back the rest of his champagne. “I hate these kinds of parties.”
“I always thought it would be incredible to be asked to amazing parties, rubbing shoulders with the city’s elite,” Saffron admitted. “But I quickly realized that the part I liked was getting all dressed up. The parties weren’t exactly as amazing as they looked from the outside once I’d attended a few.”
“So you’d rather be somewhere more fun?” he asked with a chuckle.
“Ah, yes. I guess you could say that.”
Saffron passed Blake her glass, not bothering to drink any more. She liked to stay in control, and if she was going somewhere with a man she hardly knew, she wasn’t going to get drunk. Blake took it, turning his back for a moment as he found somewhere to leave them. She quickly pulled out her phone to text Claire.
Hey, you did great tonight. I’m heading out with the guy who bought your painting! If you haven’t heard from me in the morning...
Saffy grinned as she hit Send. Claire would flip out, or maybe she’d just cheer her on. Her friend was always telling her to have more fun and stop taking life so seriously, but she wasn’t the one in danger of having to pack her bags and go back to Maysville if she didn’t get her job back. Saffron was serious because her job had demanded it, and she’d been happy to make it her life.
Her phone pinged back almost instantly.
Have fun. I’ll track him down if I need to. xoxo
“Shall we go?”
Saffron put her phone back into her purse. “Sure thing.”
Blake held out his arm and she slipped her hand through, laughing to herself about how absurd the evening had turned out. She wasn’t the girl who went on dates with strangers or disappeared with men and left her friends at a party. But nothing about the past month had gone according to plan, so she had nothing to lose.
“Do you like dancing?” Blake asked as they walked around the back of the crowd. He was leading her around the room, and she could feel eyes on them. Either because they were leaving too early or because of who he was. Or maybe she was just being overly sensitive and imagining it.
Dancing. When in her life hadn’t she loved dancing? “Sometimes.” If her leg didn’t hurt like hell when she tried to dance, she’d love to.
“I was hoping you were going to say no.”
Saffron laughed. This guy was hilarious. “It’s a no. For tonight, anyway.”
“Then why don’t we go back to my place?” He must have seen the hesitation written all over her face, because he stopped walking and stared down at her. “Sorry, that came out all wrong.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to...” Saffron actually didn’t know what she thought, but she wasn’t about to jump into bed with him. Maybe that’s what he was used to? She hoped she hadn’t read the situation wrong.
“I just meant that if we don’t want to dance and we’re bored here, it might be nice to just chill with a drink. Or we could find a nice quiet bar somewhere. It wasn’t supposed to sound like that.”
Saffy looked deep into his dark eyes, didn’t see a flicker of anything that alarmed her. “Why should I trust you?” she asked.
He cleared his throat. “United States Army Officer Blake Goldsmith,” Blake said, giving her a quick salute. “One of the only things I’m good at in life is keeping people safe, and that’s about the only good reason I can give you.”
She was more shocked that he was an officer than the fact he’d asked her back to his place so fast. “You’re in the army?”
“Was.” Blake grimaced. “So much for not talking about my work life, huh? But yeah, you can trust me.”
Saffron knew that just because he was a former officer didn’t make him trustworthy on its own, but she wasn’t actually worried about Blake. She felt as though she could take him at face value. What worried her was how he was making her feel, how desperate she suddenly was to know what it was like to meet a man and go home with him. Not that she could actually go through with a one-night stand, but the thought was making her tingle all over.
“So what do you say?” Blake asked. “I have a car waiting, so we can either jump in and head to my place or duck into a nearby bar.”
Saffron passed a number over and collected her coat, snuggling into it before they stepped out into the chilly night air. On the balcony she’d been so busy admiring the view that she’d hardly noticed it, but now she was feeling the cold.
“Yours,” she finally said. “It had better be warm, though.”
Blake was holding a black scarf, and he tucked it around her neck, his hand falling to her back as they walked. “I promise.”
She walked until he pointed out a black town car, and within seconds he was opening the door for her and ushering her inside.
“Tell me—how does a former soldier end up at a glitzy charity gala with a plush town car at his beck and call?” she asked, curious.
“Goldsmith Air,” Blake said, pulling the door shut as he slid in beside her, his thigh hard to hers. “Family business, one I tried to steer clear of but somehow ended up right in the thick of.”
Saffron knew what that felt like. “Sorry, I know we promised no work questions.”
They only seemed to travel for a few blocks before they were outside a pretty brick building that looked old but had been renovated and kept immaculate. A huge glass frontage showed off a contemporary-looking café inside, the lights still on but the signs pulled in. She guessed he lived upstairs.
“So this is your local coffee place?” Saffron asked.
“I wake up to the smell of their coffee brewing, and by eight I’ve usually ordered my second cup for the day.”
“They deliver to you?”
Blake gave her a guilty look before pushing the door open. “One of the perks of being landlord.”
She didn’t show her surprise. He was definitely not your average US Army veteran! Saffron stepped out and followed Blake as he signaled his driver to leave before taking her in through a locked security door that required him to punch a code in. They went in, and it locked behind them before he was punching in another code and ushering her into an elevator. Saffy admired the old-fashioned metal doors he pulled across, and within moments they were on the second floor.
“Wow.” They stepped out into one of the hugest loft-style apartments Saffron had ever seen. Interior brickwork was paired with high-gloss timber floors, a stainless steel industrial-type kitchen taking center stage. She had to fight to stop her jaw from hitting the floor.
“So this is home?” she asked.
Blake shrugged. “For now.”
He closed the door behind them and touched her shoulders, slipping her coat off and throwing it over the arm of a huge L-shaped sofa. Saffy spun around to ask him something and ended up almost against him. He must have moved forward, his arms instantly circling her, steadying her. She stared up at him, touched his arm, her fingers clasping over his tuxedo jacket as she became hypnotized by his stare.
Blake was handsome and strong and intriguing...all of the things that sparked her interest and made her want to run in the opposite direction but at the same time want to throw herself hard up against him.
“Are you okay?” he asked, the deep timbre of his voice sending a shiver down her spine.
Saffron nodded. “Uh-huh,” she managed, still not pulling away, not letting go.
Blake watched her back, his eyes never leaving hers, and just when she thought she was going to step back, his face suddenly moved closer to her, dangerously close. Saffron’s breath halted in her throat; her heart started to race. What was she even doing? In this man’s apartment? In his arms? She barely even knew his name!
“Can I kiss you?” he murmured, his whisper barely audible, his mouth so near.
Saffy felt herself nodding even though she knew she shouldn’t. But he clearly wasn’t going to ask her twice. Blake’s lips connected with hers, just a gentle, soft caress at first, his mouth warm to hers, unbearably gentle. She lifted her arms and tucked them around his neck as Blake deepened their kiss, his lips moving back and forth across hers as his hands skimmed down her back.
“I think we should get that drink,” he muttered, barely pulling his lips from hers.
“Me, too,” she whispered back. But her body had other ideas, pressed tight to him as he cupped her even tighter against him. Saffron had never been with a man she didn’t know, her only experience from the one relationship she’d had with a dancer she’d performed alongside. But right now she wanted Blake, and no amount of willpower was going to let her move away.
Blake’s groan was deep as he scooped her up, lifting her heels clean off the ground and walking her backward to the closest sofa. She only had a second to gaze up at him, a bare moment to wonder what the heck she was doing as he ripped off his tie and discarded it, staring down at her, his big body looming above.
And then he was covering her, his body over hers. Saffy lifted her mouth up to his, met his lips and hungrily kissed him back. She knew it was all types of wrong, but tonight she was going to be bad. If this was one of her last weekends in New York, then she was going to make the most of it. Her career might be over, but it didn’t mean her life had to be.
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_e2d89316-a2aa-5887-ba83-ecb87eaa8329)
SAFFRON OPENED HER eyes and quickly closed them. She groaned and pulled the covers over her head. She’d never had firsthand experience with what to do the morning after, and nothing clever was springing to mind. What had she been thinking?
“Morning.”
She took a deep breath and slowly slipped the covers down, clutching them tight to her chest as she sat up. Blake was standing in the doorway, looking just as chiseled and sexy and gorgeous as he had the night before. No wonder she’d ended up in his bed. He crossed the room and sat on the bed beside her.
“Ah, morning,” she finally stammered, clearing her throat and trying to pull herself together. She didn’t usually lack in confidence, but then again she didn’t usually have to deal with handsome men so early in the morning. Saffron ran her tongue over her teeth, wishing she could have had ten minutes in the bathroom before having to face Blake.
“So I need to show you something,” he said, eyebrows drawn together as he leaned closer.
It was only then she realized he was holding an iPad. Curious, she reached for it.
“What is it?”
“You know how we didn’t want to talk about our personal lives or our work?”
Saffy nodded. She didn’t understand what he was trying to tell her. Until she looked at the screen.
“Oh,” she blurted.
“I think we probably should have had that conversation,” Blake muttered. “Maybe we could have taken a back exit and made sure no one saw us.”
Saffy kept hold of the covers with one hand and swiped through the photos with the other. There was Blake with his hand to her back, Blake laughing, her laughing with her head tipped back and her eyes locked on his, and there was them getting into his town car. Paired with headlines screaming that Blake was one of the city’s most eligible bachelors and naming her as one of ballet’s finest forgotten stars. The description stung.
She swallowed away the emotion in her throat, the familiar burn behind her eyes that always hit when she thought about her career. When she passed the iPad back and glanced up at Blake, she wished she hadn’t.
“Hey, it’s not so bad,” he said, discarding the iPad and leaning over. He reached for her hand and lifted it, kissing the soft skin on the inside of her arm.
Saffy smiled. This was how she’d ended up in his bed! He was so smooth yet seemed so genuine at the same time, although hearing that he was such a prized bachelor only made her wonder if he’d expertly played her to get her into bed.
“You’re really upset about it, aren’t you? I was hoping you wouldn’t think it was that big a deal being papped.”
She shrugged. “I don’t care about being seen with you, or the photos. It’s the headlines that sting,” Saffy admitted.
Blake looked confused. “I’m not sure I’m following. You do realize that the whole bachelor thing has been completely blown out of proportion, right? It’s rubbish.”
Saffy shook her head. “It hurts to read that I’m a washed-up former ballerina. Sometimes the truth stings more than we realize.”
Blake kept hold of her hand, staring into her eyes. “You look far too young to be washed up, surely.”
“I’ll give you points for being kind, but I’m not too young, not in the ballet world. My body broke down on me, so I’m out.”
He chuckled. “By out, you mean injured, right? Taking some time out? From what I’ve read this morning, you’re pretty incredible.”
Now it was Saffy chuckling. “You’ve been googling me?”
He shrugged. “Yeah. I’m an early riser. I saw this, and I’ve been reading up about you ever since.”
She liked that he was at least honest. He could have lied and not admitted to it, but he was obviously curious about who he’d spent the night with. And if she was honest, she was starting to get pretty intrigued about him, too.
“What did it say?” Saffy wasn’t clutching the sheet quite so tightly now, not as concerned as she had been about him seeing her.
“From what I’ve read, you came to New York as a teenager, wowed all the right people and eventually landed your dream role as lead in Swan Lake last year.”
Saffron smiled. “Sounds about right.” She wasn’t sure she wanted to talk about it, not anymore. For years ballet had been her life, since she was a little girl in love with the idea of being a pretty dancer to a determined teenager and a dedicated adult. She’d lived and breathed her dream all her life, which was why she was at such a loss now. How did anyone move on if they’d lost the one thing that meant more to them than anything else?
Blake surprised her by stroking her face, his thumb caressing her cheek as he stared into her eyes. “I know the feeling.”
She smiled, but it was forced. There was no way he knew how she was feeling. “You don’t happen to have coffee, do you?” she asked, hoping he’d say yes then go and make her a cup so she had a little privacy.
“Sure do.” Blake pulled back then rose, and the moment was over. He looked down at her, his height imposing. He was already dressed, barefoot but wearing dark jeans and a plain white tee.
Saffy waited for him to go then quickly scanned for her clothes. She hardly even remembered how they’d gotten to the bedroom. From what she could recall, her dress was in the living room wherever he’d thrown it, but her underwear was somewhere in the bedroom. She jumped up, taking the sheet with her. It wasn’t until she had her underwear back on that she relaxed. Saffy looked around the room but he didn’t have any clothes scattered, so she opened his closet and grabbed a sweatshirt. It was fleecy on the inside with a zipper, and given the size on her, she had to zip it all the way just to cover her body. Then she dashed into his bathroom, splashed some water on her face and ran her fingers through her hair to tame it. Given the fact she’d just woken and didn’t have all her usual things with her, she didn’t think she looked too terrible.
“So I—” Blake’s deep voice cut off. “You look cute in my hoodie.”
“Sorry.” Saffron spun around, feeling guilty. “I should have asked first, but I didn’t want to walk out half-naked.”
Blake’s laugh made her smile. He waved her toward him and turned, and she followed him out to the living area. He had music playing softly, just audible, and she tried not to gape at the apartment all over again. It was incredible, and it oozed money. He pointed to the coffee machine.
“I can make an okay black coffee, but if you want something fancy, I’ll call downstairs.”
Saffron shook her head. “I don’t need fancy café coffee. Just give it to me however it comes, with a heaped teaspoon of sugar.”
“Not what I expected from a ballerina. I thought all dancers would think of sugar as the devil and have eating disorders.” Blake turned straight around then, his face full of apology. “Sorry, that was in bad taste. I didn’t mean it.”
She was used to it. “It’s fine, and it’s kind of true. There are plenty of dancers with problems.”
“Yeah, still. Bad form. Want to tell me what happened?” he asked, pushing a big mug of steaming coffee across the counter and shoving his hands into his jean pockets as he stood watching her on the other side. “Sounds to me like you’ve had a rough year.”
“Yeah, you could say that again,” Saffy muttered.
“I have waffles and bacon on their way up, so you can tell me over breakfast.”
She groaned. “Do I have to?”
His laugh made her smile. “Yeah, you kind of do.”
Saffron hated talking about what had happened, didn’t want to have to explain what she’d been through and what it meant for her, but breakfast did sound good and she wasn’t about to run out. Especially not if there were paparazzi waiting outside to see if she’d spent the night.
“We could talk about what happened last night instead,” he suggested, giving her a smile that made her want to slap him.
“Um, how about no?” she quipped straight back, heart racing.
“So let me guess,” Blake started, walking away from her when a buzz rang out. She tracked him with her eyes, admired how tall and built he was. His hair was thick and dark, a full mop of it, and whereas last night it had been styled, this morning it was all mussed up. She liked him even better less groomed, although he had looked pretty hot in a suit the night before.
The next thing he was pressing a button. “Just give me a sec,” Blake called over his shoulder before disappearing from the apartment.
Saffy let out a breath she hadn’t even known she was holding. She reached for her coffee and took a slow, long sip. It was hot, but the burn felt nice down her throat, helped her to calm down somehow.
She could run. It wouldn’t be her stupidest idea, and she could just grab her dress and bolt for it. Make up an excuse and dash past him. Get out of Dodge and never have to see him again or talk about what happened. She could even mail him back his hoodie, forget what she’d done. Only she wasn’t sure she wanted to. The last few months, after the worst of her pain had passed, she’d been bored and miserable. She was working on autopilot, making coffee and serving people food, seeing her dreams disappear. It hadn’t mattered what she’d done or how hard she’d tried, her leg hadn’t healed fast enough, the ligaments badly torn, and with arthritis on top of it making the pain debilitating at best.
Blake had reminded her she was alive. If she hadn’t met him, she’d have stayed another hour at the party, chatted with her friend, then gone home alone. Almost all her friends were dancers, and she wasn’t in that world anymore.
So she stayed put, only leaving her seat on one of Blake’s leather bar stools to retrieve her purse. It was tiny so she didn’t have a lot in there, but she did have her foundation stick and some lip gloss, and she was keen to use both to make herself look half-decent. Plus she needed to text Claire.
She laughed. Her friend had already sent her three text messages, first wondering where she was, then asking how fab her night had been after seeing the article on some lame website. Then asking if she needed to send out a search party. Trust Claire to be scanning those types of pages as she ate her breakfast in the morning.
She sent her a quick message back.
I’m fine. He’s gorgeous. Do you know anything about him?
The door clicked then, and she shoved her phone back in her purse. She hadn’t had time to google him, and not being a native New Yorker, she didn’t know the company name he’d mentioned the night before. He didn’t strike her as a spoiled rich kid—more like a man who’d made his own money or his own way in the world, and she wanted to know more. Especially how he’d come to be listed as an eligible bachelor worthy of paparazzi.
“Breakfast is served,” he announced.
Saffron stood and made her way back to the bar stool. “Mmm, smells delicious.” Now she had clothes and some makeup on, she was a lot less self-conscious.
“Waffles with whipped caramel cream and fresh fruit. I went with sweet.” His grin was naughty and she laughed at him.
“Can I just set the record straight about last night,” she said, cringing at the way the words had come out.
“Sure. But you don’t have to explain anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
She sighed, taking the plate he held out to her. It did look delicious, the waffles thick and square, with pineapple and blueberries piled beside a swirl of the cream. “I just don’t want you to think I do this sort of thing all the time.”
He joined her around the other side of the counter, sitting down and passing her a knife and fork. “I kind of got that impression when you were peeking out at me from beneath the covers this morning with a horrified look on your face.”
“Really?” She had to give it to him—he hadn’t turned out to be a jerk the morning after.
Blake leaned over, smiling before dropping his mouth to hers, not giving her a second to hesitate. His lips were warm and tasted of coffee, his hand soft as he cupped the back of her head. He kissed the breath from her then pulled back, lips hovering as he stared down at her. Saffy felt the burn of heat as it spread up her neck, every inch of her body tingling from the unexpected kiss.
“You’re too cute,” he said with a grin, digging into breakfast like he hadn’t just kissed her as if it was their last kiss on earth.
“And you’re too suave for your own good,” she muttered, stabbing her waffle with the fork, irate that he’d had such a visceral effect on her. “I’m guessing most of the women you bed are happy to drag you into bed the moment they lock eyes on you.”
She had no idea why she was so mad with him when all he’d done was kiss her, but something about his attitude had gotten under her skin.
“Hey,” he said, setting down his fork and turning to face her. “I meant it as a compliment, not to get you all fired up.”
She went back to her breakfast, ignoring him.
“And I haven’t exactly had the chance to meet a whole lot of ladies since I’ve been back. First I moved back home, then when I finally took over this place, I was spending more hours in the office than anywhere else. I haven’t had time for socializing, other than when I’ve had to for work.”
“You mentioned you were in the army,” she said, calmed down and not so ready to jump down his throat. She’d seriously overreacted before.
“In another lifetime, yeah,” he said, but he looked away as if he wasn’t at all interested in talking about that other life. “Anyway, we’re supposed to be talking about you. Tell me what happened. Why aren’t you dancing now?”
* * *
Blake was intrigued. He’d bedded her already, and most of the time that was when his interest stopped, but she was something else. Even before he’d seen the blog post about them leaving the benefit together, which his sister had been so kind as to forward to him with a message that this one sounded a whole lot more promising than the airheads he’d been photographed with other times.
Blake kept eating his waffles, not wanting to stare at her and make her uncomfortable. He believed her that this wasn’t her usual scene—she’d looked like a deer in headlights when he’d come back into the bedroom after hearing that she’d woken. His first instinct had been to dive straight back under the covers, until he’d seen her face and changed his mind. He still wanted her—he just wasn’t going to be so forward.
Having a late breakfast with her and relaxing for once was making it clear he’d been way too focused on work the last few months. He’d become so determined not to buckle under the pressure and settle down, just because it would be good for business, but he was starting to realize he’d been missing out.
Saffron’s red hair looked darker in the morning. Maybe it was the lack of bright lights, but it still looked incredible. The richest color against skin the lightest, barely there shade of gold, and dark brown eyes that just kept on drawing him in. He cleared his throat and set down his fork.
“Come on, what happened? Maybe I can help?” He doubted it, but he wanted to hear the story, and if she needed help finding work or someone to assist her with whatever injury she had, he did have helpful contacts.
His phone buzzed and he quickly glanced at it, not wanting to be rude by picking it up. He could read just enough of the text to see it was from his assistant and that the investor he’d been trying to impress had seen the paparazzi story. Great. Just when he’d been making some headway, now he was going to be labeled the rich playboy again.
“Nobody can help me,” she said in a low voice. “Most dancers get injured and that’s it, they’re injured. Me, I’m out. Which means my career is over, because soon I’ll have to go home with my tail between my legs, the washed-up former ballerina. I don’t have enough money to stay here without working, and my physical therapy and specialist bills are crazy.”
Blake frowned, forgetting the text and focusing on Saffron. “There’s no other way for you to stay here?”
Saffron picked at her food, taking a mouthful that he was sure was a delaying tactic. When she finally looked up at him, her eyes were swimming. Big brown pools of hurt, bathed in unshed tears.
“I had a dream of dancing with the best ballet companies in the world, right from when I was a kid. I used to practice so hard, train my heart out and eventually it paid off.” He listened as she blew out a big breath, sending a few tendrils of shorter hair around her face up into the air. “My hours of practicing got me noticed at the Lexington Ballet School in Kentucky, and eventually it turned into a dance scholarship with the New York Ballet Company. I started training there, danced my heart out and eventually went on to be an apprentice by the time I was eighteen.”
“Wait, you moved to New York on your own before you were even eighteen? How old were you when you got the scholarship?” He knew plenty of models and other creative types started their careers early, but he’d never really thought about teenagers making such a big leap on their own. “Your parents didn’t come, too?”
She shook her head. “Nope. Just me. I stayed with a relative for the first few months, then I moved into an apartment with some other dancers. I was only seventeen when I officially went out on my own, but I was so determined and focused on what I was doing that my parents didn’t have any other choice. I would have resented them for the rest of my life if they hadn’t let me come.”
He got that. They’d let her follow her dream, and he admired any parent who encouraged their kids. “And then what? You make it sound like your career has already ended, like there isn’t any hope.” Blake hated hearing her talk as if it was over. She was doing what she wanted to be doing, and nobody was trying to hold her back, stifle her dreams.
“I tore three ligaments in my leg one night when I was dancing Swan Lake. I was finally in the role I wanted, as the lead, and I didn’t even dance for an entire season at the top before my accident.” She was looking away now, couldn’t seem to meet his gaze. Blake wanted to reach for her, but he didn’t, couldn’t. The pain of what he’d lost and left behind was too raw for him, and he was barely coping with it on his own without having to help someone else.
“You could recover from that,” he said gently, careful to choose the right words.
“No, I won’t. I have a form of arthritis that I’ve battled for years. It first showed when I was stressed over a big performance, and in the past my doctors have been able to manage it. But from what I’ve been told, we’re past that point now. That’s why I’m out, why they wouldn’t just let me stay on leave due to injury. They don’t ever expect me to make a full recovery.”
Blake steeled his jaw, hating that someone had had the nerve to put a damper on her dreams. On anyone’s dreams. As far as he was concerned, the fight was worth it until the very last.
“You need to see more specialists, research more treatment, get your body strong again,” he told her, wishing his voice didn’t sound so raspy and harsh. “You can’t take no for an answer when you’re so close to living that dream.”
Her eyes were angry, glaring when she met his gaze. “Don’t you think I’ve done everything? As much as I could?”
He held up both his hands. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to jump down your throat like that. I just...”
“I don’t need to be told what to do,” she said angrily, still holding his stare. “The only thing that will save me now is winning the lottery or a miracle. Money is the only way I can stay a part of this world, to keep searching for help, trying to keep training. Either money or a new treatment to help me get back on stage.” She slumped forward, looked defeated. “Instead I’ll be back in Hicksville, the girl who had so much potential and still ended up a nobody.”
Blake bunched his fists, wished there was something he could do. He didn’t know why her situation made him so angry, but it did.
Just then his phone buzzed and he glanced at it quickly. He read the screen, cursed his sister for wanting to be so involved in his love life.
So? Spill! Is she really a ballerina? She looked gorgeous. Keep this one!
Blake didn’t bother replying, not about to engage with his younger sister over anything personal. And then he looked up and found Saffron watching him, her full lips parted, dark eyes trained on his.
She needed a way to stay in New York. He needed a wife.
He pushed his sister from his mind and pulled his bar stool closer to Saffron’s, thinking that she was the most intriguing, beautiful woman he’d met in a long time. He didn’t want to be married to anyone, but the truth was, he needed to be. That text just before was a slap-in-the-face kind of reminder. He was at the helm of a family business that was worth tens of millions of dollars, and he needed to maintain the right image. They were negotiating for a huge contract, one worth millions over the next two years alone, not to mention the investors he was trying to bring on board to grow the business. But his biggest potential investor had made it beyond clear that he was worried about Blake’s playboy status, didn’t like the fact that he wasn’t settled down and married. They were rich men with strong family values, the kind his own father had always managed to impress. Being married could be the key to finalizing those deals, and no matter how much he’d tried to pretend otherwise, it was true, which meant he had some serious damage control to do.
He reached for his coffee and drained it. Real marriage wasn’t something he wanted, hadn’t been on his agenda since the day his first love had walked away from him as though what they’d had meant nothing. He could still feel the cool sting of betrayal as if it was yesterday. But if he could package a marriage of convenience into something that could work for both him and Saffron? Now that was something he’d be willing to do.
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_4f89533b-dfab-587f-9fab-89466a9b8e22)
BLAKE CONTINUED TO sip his coffee, watching Saffron. She was beautiful. She was talented and accomplished. She was interesting. If he had to pick a wife on paper, she was it.
“So come on, spill,” she said, setting her knife and fork down, surprising him by the fact she’d actually finished her entire breakfast. “The more you tell me you don’t want to talk about yourself, the more I want to know.”
He shook his head. “No.”
Saffron’s laughter made him smile. “What do I have to do then? To make you tell me?”
Now it was Blake’s laughter filling the space between them. “Marry me.”
Her smile died faster than it had ignited, falling from her mouth. She stared back at him, eyebrows drawing slightly closer together. “I think I misheard you.”
Blake smiled, knew he had to tell her his plan carefully, to sell the idea to her instead of having her run for the door and get a restraining order against him. She was probably thinking he was a nut job, some kind of stalker who was obsessed with her after one night together.
“Look,” he said, spreading his hands wide as he watched her. “If you married someone like me, you would have access to the best medical treatments, and you could stay in New York without any worries.”
She did a slow nod. “Funnily enough, I’ve been joking about that with my friends for weeks—that I need to find a wealthy husband. But I’m used to having a successful career and standing on my own two feet.”
Blake shrugged. “What if we did it? If we got married so you could stay in New York and get back on your feet, so to speak? I could pay for any specialist treatment you need to get you dancing again.”
Her gaze was uncertain, maybe even cool. He couldn’t figure out exactly what she thought now that her smile had disappeared. “I know why it would be good for me, I just don’t get why you’d want to do it. What’s in it for you? Why would you want to help me?”
“Marriage to a beautiful ballerina?” he suggested.
“Blake, I’m serious. Why would you marry me unless there’s something in it for you? A hidden catch?”
“Look, plenty of people marry for convenience. Gay men marry women all the time to hide their sexuality if they think it’s going to help their career or please their family.”
She sighed. “Well, I know you’re not gay. Unless you put on the performance of your life last night, that is. And anyway, I know plenty of gay people, and it hasn’t hurt their careers at all, to be honest.”
“Well, you’re a dancer. Corporate America isn’t always so accepting, even if they pretend to be.”
“Back to you,” Saffron said, studying him intensely, her eyes roving over his face. “Tell me now, or I’m walking out that door.”
Blake wasn’t about to call her bluff. Just because she needed a boost in finances didn’t mean she was automatically going to say yes to marrying a stranger.
“Running my father’s company was never part of my plan,” he told her. “Now I’m CEO of a company that I’m proud of, but not a natural fit for. It’s not the role I want to be in, but there’s also no way I’m about to let that company fall into the wrong hands. I need to keep growing it, and I’m working on two of the biggest deals in the company’s history.”
“I hear you, and I’m sorry you don’t like what you do, but it doesn’t explain why you need a wife. Why you need to marry me?”
Blake didn’t want to tell her everything, didn’t like talking about his past and what he’d lost to anyone, why he didn’t want a real wife, to open himself up to someone again. Eventually he’d have to tell her, otherwise she’d end up blindsided and their marriage would be uncovered as a sham, but not right now. Not until he knew he could trust her.
“I’m sick of the whole tabloid thing, the paps following me because some stupid magazine announced that I was one of New York’s most eligible men.” They’d called him the Billion Dollar Bachelor, the headlines had screamed out that women should be fighting over the former soldier back in the city as a corporate CEO and he hated it. Hated the attention and being known for his family’s money after doing everything in his power to prove his own worth, make his own way in the world. But most of all he hated that people he most needed to impress right now read the rubbish being written, viewed him as a playboy, were unsettled by the fact that he wasn’t settled.
“My dad built up the company as a family business, and our clients like that, especially a large-scale investor I’ve been working on for months. I don’t want them to start thinking the company isn’t going to continue to succeed because some loser rich-kid playboy is at the helm, and if I can set the right image now, it won’t matter if I’m not married in a few years’ time because the deals will be done.”
Saffron didn’t say anything when he paused, just stared at him.
Blake laughed. “Plus I’d like to get my mother and two sisters off my back. They’re driving me crazy, trying to set me up all the time.” He stood, pushing his hands into his pockets, watching, waiting for a reaction. He probably shouldn’t have added the joke about getting them off his back. “So what do you think?”
“What do I think?” she muttered. “I think you’re crazy!”
“We can talk through the details later, but please just think about it.”
“Wow,” Saffron said, holding up her hand. “I need time to think, to process how absurd this is.”
“It’s not that absurd,” he disagreed.
“This is only-in-the-movies absurd,” she fired back. “I’m not saying no, but I can’t say yes right now, either.”
Blake nodded. “I need to head in to the office. Why don’t you stay here a bit, take your time and meet me back here tonight if you decide to say yes. I can get the paperwork and everything sorted out pretty quick, and we can go choose a ring together tomorrow.”
Saffron shook her head, smiling then bursting into laughter. “I can’t believe you’re actually serious, that I’m not just being punked right now.”
“Sweetheart, I’m deadly serious.”
Blake took a few steps forward, touched her chin gently and tipped her face up, his thumb against her smooth skin. He slowly lowered his head and dropped his lips over hers, plucking softly at her lips.
“So we’d actually be married?” she asked, breathless, when she pulled back, mouth still parted as if she was waiting for more.
“Yes,” he said, thinking how cute she looked in his hoodie. “You can set the boundaries, but we need it to look real.”
He bent and kissed her again, softly.
* * *
Saffron could hardly breathe. She’d been outside for at least ten minutes, but her lungs still felt as though they couldn’t pull in enough air. Marry him? How could he have asked her to marry him? They’d spent one night together—but marriage? Did she need rescuing that bad?
She pushed through a crowd of people passing on the street to reach a bench seat, dropping the second she found one. Could she actually marry a man she didn’t even know, just to stay in New York? Just to get her career back on track, if that was even possible? She wished she could laugh it off and tell him there was no way she’d accept his proposal, but the truth was that it was the perfect solution for her. If it was the only way to give her recovery one last, real shot... Saffron gulped and turned her attention to the people walking past. Tried to lift her thoughts from Blake and failed.
What she needed was a piece of paper and her laptop. She would do what she always did—make a list of all the pros and cons, just like when she’d been offered the scholarship to dance with the New York Ballet in the first place. When she was sixteen, the list had been heavy on the pros and low on the cons, the only drawbacks coming from her parents, who wanted her to stay and didn’t understand how desperately she wanted it. This time her list might be more balanced.
Marriage had always seemed so sacred to her, so special, but... She held her breath then slowly blew it out. Dancing was all she had. It was her life. If getting that back, having the one thing in the world back that meant so much to her, meant having to get married, then she had to consider it. Dancing had been her salvation. Could Blake really help her get that back?
Her phone buzzed and she picked it up, seeing it was Claire. She’d been out of touch with most of her dancing friends for the past couple of months, finding it too hard to hear about ballet and what they were training, the pain like a knife to her heart. But Claire had been there for her, been different and she’d enjoyed being part of her arty world.
“Hey,” Saffy said when she answered.
“You’re not still there, are you?” Claire giggled. “I still can’t believe you did it. You’re usually such a prude!”
Saffy laughed. “I am not a prude! Just because you have loose morals.”
Now it was Claire in fits of laughter. “I’m not loose, I just don’t see the point in saying no to a good time. Obviously my amazing personality has rubbed off on you.”
Saffron felt better already after talking to Claire. “He...” Saffy changed her mind, not wanting to tell her. Claire was pretty open-minded, but even she might think it was crazy to consider the proposal.
“What? Tell me what you were going to say! He was amazing, wasn’t he? Tell me more!” her friend begged.
Saffy sighed, the weight of her decision hanging heavy. “He was amazing, incredible, but...” Her voice trailed off again. “He wants to meet again tonight.”
“Awesome! He’s seriously hot stuff. Not to mention he paid up big-time for my painting. I’ve already had phone calls from buyers asking about my commissions and existing work.”
If there hadn’t been the whole marriage thing to consider, she would have been more excited. Giddy over being with a man like Blake, a man who’d made her pulse race and her mind forget all about what she’d lost while she’d been with him. She’d have liked the idea of getting to know him better, dating him, not marrying him.
“Good, you deserve it. And he was lovely. I’m just not sure about everything.”
Silence stretched out between them, just long enough for it to be noticeable. “You’re thinking about having to go back home?”
“Yeah.” Saffy wasn’t lying; she just wasn’t telling her everything. Besides, Claire would be the one person to know the truth if it did happen, that she’d only met Blake the night before. She trusted her not to say anything, to keep her secret, but she just wasn’t ready to open up about it yet, not when she was still trying to process it herself.
“Do you have any more doctors to see? Any other specialists you could visit or anything?” Claire asked. “Can you afford to keep going for a bit longer?”
Saffy shook her head, even though she knew Claire couldn’t see her. This was why she was considering the marriage—this was why she had to. “No,” she murmured. “I’ve done everything. There’s no one left to see, or at least no one I can afford now, and I’m like damaged goods on the dance scene. If I dance again, there’s only one company I want to be with, and that’s a firm no right now.”
“Fight till the bitter end, Saffy. Don’t go quitting until you have no other options left.”
Saffron had no intention of giving up until the last; it had been her attitude all her life. But even she had to admit that when it was over, it was over.
“There’s one last thing I have to consider,” she told Claire. “One last option.”
“Give it a go—you owe it to yourself.”
“I’m going to go, I have a few jobs to get done,” Saffy said, wanting to end the call so she could think some more. She started to walk, the familiar twinge in her knee bearable at a walk when she was wearing heels. Barefoot it was almost unnoticeable. It was when she tried to push herself harder or dance that it really hurt. “Enjoy the weekend.”
“You, too. Give me a call tomorrow so I can hear all the juicy details from tonight.”
Saffy said goodbye and kept walking, suddenly realizing how terrible she must look. She was wearing her blue satin dress, her hair was tangled, and her heels weren’t exactly daytime wear. Thank goodness there had been no cameras flashing when she’d exited out the back of Blake’s building, through the café. Her career being over was bad enough—the last thing she needed was for the public to see pictures of her looking like she was right now.
Marriage. No matter how hard she tried to clear her head, Blake’s proposal was the only thing on her mind. And she was pretty certain that, like it or not, she was going to have to say yes.
* * *
Blake sat in his office, staring out the huge windows that bordered two sides. It was a stunning corner office—luxurious and extravagant—but it didn’t feel like his. For two decades it had been his father’s office, and he’d been in it numerous times, often when his father was trying to convince him that the company was where he should be. That it should be his dream, as if he should grow up to be a carbon copy of the man who’d raised him. But Blake had never wanted to be his father, had had dreams of his own, dreams that were still with him that he’d been forced to leave behind.
He stood and walked to the window, restless being inside and having to stare at paperwork and sign contracts. The city was alive below him, people milling everywhere, and he wished he could just disappear in the crowd and leave his responsibilities behind. But he’d made the decision to come back, and he wasn’t a quitter.
“This is your life, son. You’re my eldest, and I expect you to take over the business. To look after your family.”
The words had echoed in his mind long before his father had died, but now they were never ending. Every time he wanted to walk away, they haunted him, kept him awake at night. He was the eldest, and he’d always had a sense of responsibility that his younger brother and sisters had never had. But it hadn’t stopped his brother from wanting to run the company, to absorb everything their father had to share and teach.
Everything had been going to plan—Blake was doing what he loved, and his brother was shadowing their dad, learning the ropes, prepared to take over the company one day. Until everything had gone horribly wrong.
Blake clenched his teeth together and crossed the room, reaching for the whiskey his father had always kept in the office, filling one of the crystal tumblers he’d seen his father drink from so many times. He poured a small amount into the glass and downed it, liking the burn. Needing the burn.
The chill he’d felt when they’d died, when his mother had phoned him and he’d heard the choke in her voice, knowing the helicopter had gone down. He’d gotten there as fast as he could, been with the rescue team on the ground, seen the wreckage with his own eyes. At that moment, he’d known he had no other choice—he had to step up and take over the business just like his father had always wanted him to do. He’d lost so many good people in his life, but losing his father had never been something he’d thought about until it had happened.
Blake set the glass down again and went back to his desk. There were things he couldn’t change, memories that would be with him forever, but the only thing that mattered right now was doing the best, given what life had served him. And Saffron would go a long way to helping make his life easier, making sure he secured the deals and the financial backing he needed to take the company to the next level. He needed a wife at his side, and she was the perfect match to him, could be the perfect, capable woman at his side...because they could enter into the relationship with a contract that gave them both exactly what they wanted.
He checked his phone. He’d half expected her to text or phone him after thinking about it, but then he’d also seen the determined look in her eyes, known that she was a fighter from the moment he’d heard about how she’d risen to the top. A ballerina who’d defied all odds and risen through the ranks to become one of New York’s most respected dancers. It wasn’t an easy path, and he doubted she would like having to do something she didn’t want to do.
It was easy for him because it was a win-win situation. He would have a wife, a beautiful woman by his side who intrigued him, and they’d be divorced within the year. He didn’t want a family, didn’t want children, and he certainly didn’t want an actual wife. They were things he’d dreamed of a decade ago, before the only person in his life he’d ever completely opened up to and been himself with had ripped out his heart and torn it to shreds. He wasn’t ever going to put himself in that position again, just like he would never deceive a woman into marrying him without clearly setting out his terms.
Blake smiled and sat back down in the plush leather chair. Usually Saturdays were his favorite day to work, when the office was quiet and no one was around to bother him. But today his mind was wandering, and it was a stunning redhead on his mind that he couldn’t stop thinking about. Whoever said he couldn’t mix a little pleasure with business?

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