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Tempted By The Billionaire Next Door
Therese Beharrie


Could the man who’s off limits be her Mr Right?Jessica Steyn is undeniably attracted to her delicious new neighbour, Dylan Nel, but he’s also her best friend’s brother! Overcoming their complicated situation seems impossible, but could the answer to their problems be just next door?







He’s the one man who’s off-limits...

But could he be her Mr. Right?

When Jessica Steyn learns her delicious new neighbor is actually her best friend’s brother, billionaire bad boy Dylan Nel, she’s torn. After all, she’s just become his sister’s surrogate! Acting on their attraction would complicate things, but they’re soon growing closer. Overcoming Dylan’s troubled family history—and Jessica’s pregnancy—seems impossible, but could the answer to their heartaches be just next door?


THERESE BEHARRIE has always been thrilled by romance. Her love of reading established this—and now she gets to write happy-ever-afters for a living, and about all things romance in her blog at theresebeharrie.com. She married a man who constantly exceeds her romantic expectations and is an infinite source of inspiration for her romantic heroes. She lives in Cape Town, South Africa, and is still amazed that her dream of being a romance author is a reality.


Also by Therese Beharrie (#ud7b02e0f-3765-5375-9abf-55cd73c20015)

The Tycoon’s Reluctant Cinderella

A Marriage Worth Saving

The Millionaire’s Redemption

Conveniently Wed, Royally Bound miniseries

United by Their Royal Baby

Falling for His Convenient Queen

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk).


Tempted by the Billionaire Next Door

Therese Beharrie






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


ISBN: 978-1-474-07762-0

TEMPTED BY THE BILLIONAIRE NEXT DOOR

© 2018 Therese Beharrie

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


For Grant, my best friend.

And Jenny, for taking the squirming, questing and searching journey of friendship with me.

I can’t imagine doing this without you.


Contents

Cover (#u382a5f2e-d975-51aa-86ff-09f7001964ae)

Back Cover Text (#u7b4240da-af98-58f3-84bb-0f90ec80c2fb)

About the Author (#u3ff94edb-09fd-5bed-99f5-f37eba1249a9)

Booklist (#ub1068068-06eb-5480-b86d-3956583bcd7e)

Title Page (#u7e39c2af-2dc5-5433-9bcc-88e1649f62c3)

Copyright (#u773b59cb-efb2-5dfa-9f1b-e491f960c9ac)

Dedication (#u92585d01-7fa8-55d9-abd2-d266363e3fd8)

CHAPTER ONE (#u7c536bdf-7ee7-50b6-b0fe-c536de7f1755)

CHAPTER TWO (#u915ba177-f3dc-5454-950e-832488243070)

CHAPTER THREE (#u1df254b8-b6b3-5f9c-b562-db1f032d1dcb)

CHAPTER FOUR (#u5c2225d6-636c-5137-8ea0-5ba430dab26d)

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)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)


CHAPTER ONE (#ud7b02e0f-3765-5375-9abf-55cd73c20015)

JESSICA STEYN HADN’T deliberately sought out the half-naked man who’d entertained her over the last week. But she couldn’t deny that watching him had fast become her new favourite hobby.

She watched as he bent over to pick up another stack of logs—watched as the muscles of his naked back rippled, the lightest sheen of sweat defining them even more—and conceded that it was definitely top-notch entertainment.

Guilt poked at her, but she ignored it. It wasn’t her fault that he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Nor was it her fault that he’d made a routine of cutting up the trees in his yard. Every day at noon he emerged from the house—wearing an old T-shirt that inevitably got tossed aside about five minutes into his task—and hacked the trunks he’d cut down the day before into logs. He then placed them in a pile, before carrying them over to an enclosed area where he’d set them down and start all over again.

So, ever since she’d noticed there was a routine, every day at noon she would settle in front of the window that overlooked his property to enjoy the show.

Thank goodness she’d discovered him, she thought as he gulped down a bottle of water. Water that dribbled over his chin, creating an enticing path down the column of his throat, between his pecs and the impressive ridges of his abs. Her heart rate immediately skyrocketed, and she thought that maybe she needed a glass of water, too.

He was a pretty decent distraction in an otherwise boring day. Now that her friend and boss, Anja, was away with her husband, Chet, on business, Jess’s days were mostly free. Apart from watching Mr Sexy-Next-Door.

And, of course, thinking about the child she carried.

Before her mind could take that detour—about how this child made Jess feel as if her life was actually worth something for the first time—she thought about how annoyed she was with Anja for not telling her that there was a Mr Sexy-Next-Door.

She’d been helping Anja manage her yoga studio for almost two years now, and this was the first time Jess had seen him. Though, to be fair, it was also the first time Jess had stayed at Anja’s house for longer than a few days. But she still expected Anja to tell her about the man. Perhaps not as her boss, but as her friend.

And definitely as her best friend.

But all thoughts of that vanished when the top log of the stack Mr Sexy had set down started to roll. He’d already turned away, so didn’t see the snowball effect of that one log. Jess pushed out of her chair, a wordless cry of warning on her lips, but it was too late. The logs had rolled under his feet and she watched in horror as he fell to the ground, twisting his body so that he landed on his hip.

Before she knew it, she was out of the front door. She had to turn back when she realised she hadn’t locked the house and, after she did, she ran as fast as her swollen body would allow to her temporary neighbour’s house. She said a silent prayer of thanks when she found his gate open and then she was kneeling beside him, her hands running over the chest she’d admired only minutes before.

She ignored how the grooves of his muscles, his abs, felt beneath her hands and focused on identifying whether anything was broken. She realised that he’d turned over onto his back then, but it only made her pause for a second. Then her hands were on his ankles, his calves, but, before she could feel his thighs or hips, two large hands gripped her wrists.

‘I’m not opposed to having a beautiful woman run her hands over me, but maybe we should leave that particular area for when we know each other better.’

Jess felt her face burn and quickly pulled back. But her balance was off and she landed on her butt. Her hand immediately went to her stomach, but she dropped it just as quickly. Not because his eyes had followed the gesture, and the way the interest there had cooled reminded her of the dismissive looks her parents had used to give her, but because she was fairly certain the baby was fine. She hadn’t fallen very hard. Though she really had to remember that pregnancy had made her clumsy.

‘I’m assuming that response means you didn’t knock your head on the way down.’ She debated not saying anything else, but she knew she would worry if she didn’t ask. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Yeah, I guess so. Well, as okay as you can be when someone witnesses a couple of logs trip you.’ He moved to push up to his forearms, but she crawled forward and set a hand on his chest, pushing him back down.

‘You should stay still until we’re sure you’re really fine.’

‘I am sure. I’m fine.’

Realising he was the stubborn sort, Jess pressed a hand against his hip and nodded when he winced. ‘You’re not fine. I’m calling an ambulance.’

Before she could move to her feet, he grabbed her wrist again. This time, she felt the heat of his hand on her arm. Felt the callused bumps at the base of his fingers rub against her skin. She wasn’t sure why it sent a flush through her body, but she stilled and then gently pulled her arm out of his grip.

His expression didn’t change, though something in his eyes flickered. ‘I really am fine. I’ll probably have a bruise on my hip tomorrow—and my ego will probably need to be resuscitated since it was murdered so cruelly—but I promise you, I’m fine.’

He sat up then, and she let him. ‘Besides,’ he continued with a smile that made the flush in her body go hotter, ‘if I’m not fine, maybe you’ll come to my rescue again.’

‘Unlikely,’ she replied, ignoring the way her lips wanted to curve at his words. ‘I just happened to be looking out of my window when you fell.’

It sounded legitimate, she thought, and almost patted herself on the back when she saw he’d bought her excuse. Good thing, too. She wasn’t sure how she could explain the real reason she’d seen him.

‘I appreciate you wanting to help me. Are you a doctor?’

‘No.’

‘Nurse?’

She shook her head.

‘So, you just ran over when you saw me fall without any medical skills whatsoever?’

‘I was a lifeguard when I was a teenager.’ A choice her parents had disapproved of heartily. Funny how they’d chosen to be interested in something so insignificant when they’d ignored everything else in her life. When they’d ignored her. ‘I have first-aid experience, and falls were the first thing they taught us to deal with.’

‘I stand corrected.’ His smile was more genuine now, less cocky, and yet it had the same effect on her body.

Or maybe it was the fact that he still didn’t have a shirt on, and she was being treated to her afternoon entertainment close-up.

She almost lifted a hand to check whether she was drooling.

‘Well, now that I know you’re okay I should probably be off.’ She took a long time to get to her feet, and cursed silently when she saw how smoothly he did it.

‘How can I repay you?’

She snorted. ‘For what? Rushing over here and embarrassing us both?’

‘Why would you be embarrassed?’

Good question. ‘Because clearly you were fine and I panicked over nothing?’

‘You panicked?’

She rolled her eyes. ‘It was a hard fall, okay? I was worried.’

She couldn’t tell what had changed on his face, but something had. And it made his already too perfect features seem even more appealing. ‘So, I’m repaying you for being worried. It’s not often that people care.’

‘No, it isn’t,’ she agreed, feeling the words hit a little too close to home. ‘But I don’t need to be repaid. You’re fine. Right?’ He nodded. ‘So, I’ll be seeing you.’

She turned to leave and managed to get a few steps away from the gate before his voice called out, ‘Which window?’

She turned back. ‘What?’

‘From which window did you see me fall?’

‘That one.’ She nodded to the window on the second level of the house next door, grateful that the chair she’d been sitting on—or the chips she’d been eating while watching him—wasn’t visible.

‘That’s my sister’s house.’

It took a moment for her mind to process the new information. ‘Your sister?’ she repeated. ‘You’re Dylan?’

‘Yeah,’ he said, his forehead creasing. ‘Who are you? And why are you staying in my sister’s house?’

‘I’m Jess. Jessica,’ she added quickly. ‘I’m staying at the house while Anja and Chet are away.’

His features tightened. ‘Away where?’

‘Sydney. They wanted to get Anja’s new yoga studio up and running before the—’ She caught herself before it was too late. She couldn’t tell Dylan about the baby. Anja would kill her. And she didn’t need to upset one of the few people who cared about her. ‘Does she know you’re here?’

‘No.’

‘Oh.’

There was a long stretch of silence before either of them spoke again. And then she asked, ‘You’ve been back for at least a week. Why haven’t you come over? Or tried to call her?’

He frowned. ‘How do you know how long I’ve been back for?’

Jess felt her eyes widen, her cheeks heat, before she managed to reply with something other than I’ve been watching you. ‘I heard the garbage truck pick up your bin earlier this week.’ She held her breath and hoped he’d buy the somewhat lame excuse.

‘And how do you know that I haven’t tried to call her?’

‘She...would have told me.’

He studied her. ‘How exactly do you know Anja?’

Something about the way he asked it put her back up. ‘I’m her PA.’

‘She let her PA stay in her house?’ There was barely a pause before he continued. ‘She would tell her PA if her brother called her?’

Jess straightened. ‘Yes. Your sister and I are also friends. Good friends.’ She kept her hand from going to her stomach—to the proof of the bond that she and Anja shared—and forced herself to calm down when an inner voice questioned why she was responding so defensively. ‘I didn’t realise it was you when I came over.’

‘But you knew I lived next door?’

‘Yes,’ she replied, but it got her thinking about why it hadn’t occurred to her that Mr Sexy-Next-Door was actually Anja’s brother. ‘I knew you lived next door, but Anja didn’t tell me which next door you lived in.’

‘And you never asked?’

You’re not exactly a topic of conversation either of us readily bring up. ‘It didn’t matter.’

‘Because my sister doesn’t talk about me?’

‘Because you weren’t here.’

Though both answers were true, it seemed as if Dylan cared more about the option she’d offered. Because when he’d given his option his face hadn’t tightened the way it had after she’d spoken. Hurt hadn’t flashed across his face, quickly followed by a blankness she couldn’t help but feel was desperate.

‘Why are you here?’ she said after a moment, unable to help herself.

‘I live here.’ There was a beat of silence. ‘This is my home.’

‘It hasn’t been,’ she reminded him, still compelled by reasons she wasn’t quite sure of. ‘Not for the last two years.’

‘No, it has been,’ Dylan replied softly. ‘But even the best of us run away from home sometimes, don’t we?’

Her heart stalled, reminding her of the old car she’d seen just that morning, spluttering down the road in front of Anja’s house. Why did it feel as if he was talking about her? To her? As if he instinctively knew that she’d turned her back on the place she’d once called home? As if he knew that she’d run from the parents who hadn’t cared enough to even try to make her believe that they wanted her to stay?

‘When are they coming back?’ Dylan asked gruffly. Jess shook her head, ignoring the need to push for more answers. To find out why telling her he’d run from home had clearly upset him. It was none of her business.

‘The end of the month.’ Though Jess had a feeling it would be a lot sooner once she told Anja that Dylan had returned. ‘How long have you been back?’

‘You were right,’ he replied. ‘About a week.’

So he’d been chopping up wood since the day he’d returned, she thought, and forced away the sudden disappointment that came from knowing she’d no longer be able to watch him. How could she, knowing who he was?

Older brother of her best friend. Uncle to the child she carried.

‘Do you know where I’ve been?’

‘The UK?’ He nodded. ‘Yeah, Anja told me you’ve been away for...business.’

‘Clearly that isn’t all she told you,’ he said with a self-deprecating smile.

‘No.’

The smile dimmed. ‘There’s a lot you seem to know about me, Jessica, and yet I haven’t even heard about you.’

‘Does that surprise you?’

‘No.’ A fleeting shadow of pain darkened his features. ‘But I’m back now.’

‘So you are.’

‘And I’d like to have my return start on the right foot.’

Something pulsed in the air between them, but Jess refused to acknowledge it. ‘Yeah, okay. Go for it.’

He smiled at her, and this time it wasn’t laden with emotion. It was an easy, natural smile she imagined he’d give when he saw an old friend, or during his favourite movie. But it sent an unnatural frisson through her body.

‘You should have lunch with me.’

‘No,’ she said immediately.

‘You have somewhere else to be?’

‘No, but—’

‘Then have lunch with me.’

‘No, thank you,’ she said more firmly, hoping none of the panic she felt was evident in her voice. ‘You were...busy before I interrupted.’

‘After what happened, I think I’m done for the day.’

‘I really don’t think I should—’

‘Please.’ His smile widened and she almost felt faint. ‘I’d like to get to know the woman staying in my sister’s house. The woman who’s clearly a good friend of hers.’ He paused. ‘That’s what I meant by having my return start on the right foot. If you and I are on good terms when Anja gets back...’

The seconds ticked by, and then Jess narrowed her eyes. ‘You’re schmoozing me!’

Surprise captured his features, and then he laughed. A loud, genuine laugh that started at those fantastic abs and went all the way up to his perfect hair. It was fascinating to watch. The even angles of his face were animated with joy, those chocolate-whisky eyes she only now noticed he shared with his sister alight with appreciation.

She’d never been much of a beard woman, but Dylan’s stubble was dissuading her of that belief. She loved that his skin reminded her of oak—not too light, not too dark. And she really loved that he still didn’t have a shirt on, so she could appreciate that colour over hard, defined muscle...

‘If I told you I was, would that make you want to have lunch with me any less than you already do?’ he asked, interrupting her hormone-driven thoughts.

‘Probably.’ She waited. ‘So, are you?’

Now he chuckled. ‘No.’

She tilted her head. Watched him. ‘You’re the CEO of an international engineering company. I’d imagine that requires some measure of intelligence.’

‘You’re saying I’m not intelligent?’

‘Only if you expect me to believe that you’re not trying to...charm me into having lunch with you.’

‘Well, I am taking some time off from work. Perhaps that’s why I’m off my game. Why I’ve made such an unforgivable mistake.’

‘You’re still doing it!’

He smiled. ‘I can’t help it.’

‘Great. It’ll make my refusal so much easier then.’

‘No, wait,’ he said, grabbing her wrist when she turned. He let go when she turned back. Her skin prickled. ‘I’m sorry. It’s just...easier to schmooze than to...earnestly ask you to have lunch with me.’

‘Why do you want to have lunch with me so badly?’

‘You’re Anja’s friend and...and I’d like to show her that I’m serious about coming back to fix things. That’s why I’m here,’ he told her softly. ‘I want to fix what I broke when I left, and if you and I are on good terms...’ He shrugged. ‘I wasn’t lying about that, Jess.’

As Jess studied him she felt herself soften. She hated that she did, but she couldn’t ignore the emotion behind his words. The hope. She also couldn’t ignore how much it spoke to her own desire. The deep, dark one that she would never have admitted aloud to anyone.

That some day her parents would show up for her, just like it seemed Dylan had for Anja. That some day they’d want to fix things with her just as badly as Dylan clearly wanted to with his sister.

It was a stupid hope, one her experiences growing up had taught her not to entertain. But still, it made her want to say yes to Dylan. That, and the desire to prevent the child she carried from growing up in the tension, the brokenness that currently existed in Anja’s family. The same kind of tension and brokenness that Jess had grown up with.

Jess knew Anja was stubborn, and she wouldn’t let the brother who’d left her after their father had died just come strolling back into her life. Not when that brother had broken her heart by leaving. Not when he’d broken his promise to always be there for her.

‘I don’t know why you left, Dylan,’ Jess said softly, ‘or why you didn’t come home for two years. That’s probably none of my business...though what I’m about to ask you falls under that category, too. But...why haven’t you come over to speak with Anja since you got back?’

It was such a long time before he answered that Jess was sure he wouldn’t answer her at all. ‘I didn’t know whether she’d want to see me, and staying away, keeping my mind and body busy with menial tasks...they were all excuses to postpone the inevitably difficult conversation I would have to have with her.’

Surprised by his candour—and more than a little touched—Jess nodded. ‘Okay.’

‘Okay?’

‘Okay,’ she repeated. She waited a beat before she said, ‘You better have enough food to feed a pregnant woman, Dylan.’

* * *

It took Dylan a moment to realise what he’d done. Another to process what he’d said. And even then he wasn’t sure what he was doing. Inviting a woman he barely knew into his home? Offering to make her lunch? Sharing his intention of fixing things with Anja? Hoping that she’d be able to give him some insight into his sister?

It was crazy, but his craziness was dipped in desperation. Desperation because his sister hadn’t spoken to him—not properly—in almost two years. Desperation because his plan to speak with her when he got home wasn’t working.

Because every time he’d wanted to go over to her house to talk with her he’d remembered her face when he’d left. He’d remembered how broken she’d looked, how her voice had cracked when she’d said goodbye.

How he’d left anyway.

And now, when he’d finally told himself he would go to see her that night, it turned out she wasn’t even there.

He was disappointed, and perhaps that had been another reason for his invitation to Jess. But then the desperation, the craziness, the disappointment had landed him a meal with a beautiful woman, so was it really that bad?

Yes, an inner voice answered him. Of course it was. Because though the beautiful woman knew things about his sister that he didn’t know—that he wanted to know—she was also pregnant. Pregnant. Which meant someone had got her pregnant. His eyes searched her hand for a ring, but they didn’t find one.

It sent an absurd surge of hope through him, and he rolled his eyes as he led the way into his house. He bent down when he heard the scurry of paws against the wooden floor and fussed over his Labrador, Daisy, when she came bounding around the corner.

But she quickly lost interest in him and made her way to the woman he’d invited for lunch. Dylan watched as Jess’s face lit up and she lowered—carefully, he saw—before rubbing his dog vigorously. It sent another surge through him, but this time it was warmth. A bubble of warmth that floated from his heart and settled in his belly.

A bubble that abruptly popped when he remembered that no wedding ring didn’t mean that she was available.

And that a baby meant she definitely wasn’t available.

‘Daisy, back,’ he snapped, the words coming out harsher than he’d intended because of his thoughts. The dog gave him a beseeching look but stepped back and sat, and Dylan offered a hand to help Jess up.

‘Sorry about that. She gets a little excited around people.’

He sucked in his breath at the sizzle he felt coming from her hand. Held his breath when the vanilla scent she wore settled in his nose. As soon as she was steady, he broke the contact.

‘Don’t worry. I love dogs.’

‘Do you have any?’

Sadness dulled her eyes. ‘No, my parents weren’t really fans of pets when I was younger. Or children.’ She laughed breathlessly, but he could tell that it was meant to cover up her mistake. She hadn’t meant to tell him that.

Well, that makes two of us, he thought, remembering what he’d told her about coming home. And because of it he didn’t address her slip. Instead, he approached it from a different angle.

‘Why don’t you have any now? Doesn’t your husband want pets either?’

‘No husband.’ She shrugged. ‘I’m just your typical unwed pregnant woman, I guess.’

She didn’t look too bothered by it, which forced him to ignore the hope that stirred inside him again. ‘Somehow I doubt that.’

‘That I’m unwed and pregnant?’

‘That you’re typical.’

‘You barely know me, Dylan.’

Her eyes met his and it felt as if lightning flashed between them. The seconds ticked by, the current of energy between them grew more intense, but neither of them looked away. Eventually, he said, ‘What are you in the mood to eat?’

A moment passed, and then he could see her force herself to relax. ‘Do you have peanut butter?’

It was such a strange request that it broke the tension he still felt inside him. ‘Yeah, I think so.’ He narrowed his eyes. ‘You want peanut butter? I’m pretty sure there’s something more substantial in the fridge.’

‘Peanut butter is plenty substantial,’ she replied defensively. ‘Especially if you serve it with those bananas over there.’

She nodded to the fruit bowl on his kitchen table, and he felt the smile on his face almost before he even knew it was there. ‘Peanut butter and banana?’

‘Peanut butter and banana,’ she confirmed, and smiled. ‘I tried to warn you about what you were getting into by inviting a pregnant woman for lunch.’

‘Yeah, you did,’ he answered, though he struggled for the words because her smile was so...distracting. As was her face—the smooth curves of its oval shape, the high cheekbones, those cinnamon eyes, the glossy olive of her skin, those generous lips...

Even her hair was distracting. The dark brown strands were clipped back into a messy style that he couldn’t decide whether he liked. Mostly because it made him want to tidy it up. No, he corrected his thoughts immediately. Because it made him want to muss it up even more.

Her clothing was loose, hiding the curve of her stomach. That was why he hadn’t noticed she was pregnant at first—though he’d discovered it pretty quickly, so he couldn’t blame ignorance for the fact that he’d flirted with her.

But he didn’t want to think about what he could blame flirting with her on, so he was glad when she spoke.

‘Who looked after Daisy while you were away?’

‘Actually, I got her in London and then brought her back with me.’

Daisy wagged her tail when he looked over at her and love filled his heart. She’d saved him from depression, from the loneliness of his grief and anger. From his guilt. And she’d needed him in a way that was more simple than he could ever remember being needed.

His experience of being needed by his mother and sister had always—always—been complicated. And he blamed himself. He’d been the one who’d chosen to look after their family when his father had abandoned them. When his father had decided that gambling was more important than the woman he’d married. Than his children...

Dylan had been the one to take care of the household when his father’s abandonment had meant that they couldn’t rely on their mother any more either. So yes, maybe after they’d found out the man had died, Dylan had wanted to leave it all behind. And yes, maybe finding out a few days before his father’s funeral that his mother hadn’t been the victim she’d pretended to be all those years ago had given him even more incentive to leave.

But he was back now. Because his sister hadn’t lied to him, hadn’t betrayed him. And it was time that he stopped acting as though she had.

‘Daisy’s English?’ Jess asked, interrupting his thoughts. She snapped a finger and Daisy was at her side in an instant. ‘I’ve never met an English dog before,’ she said, cooing at his pet.

‘I don’t really think they have nationalities.’

‘Really? Because Daisy gives off a distinct English vibe. Like she’d invite me for tea and scones every afternoon at three.’

He laughed. ‘The English actually have their tea—’ He broke off at her smirk, and the laugh turned into a smile. ‘You don’t care, do you?’

‘Not unless I’m going to the UK, which is obviously not happening any time soon.’

‘How far along are you?’ he asked, and began to prepare their lunch. Since peanut butter and banana didn’t seem quite as appealing to him, he decided on a chicken mayo sandwich for himself.

‘Just over five months. Um, Dylan?’ He glanced at her. ‘I know the naked chef is a thing in the UK, but you not having a shirt on... Well, it’s really distracting. Do you mind?’


CHAPTER TWO (#ud7b02e0f-3765-5375-9abf-55cd73c20015)

HIS EYEBROWS ROSE, and then a grin curved his lips. ‘I’m distracting you?’

‘Yeah,’ Jess said, and tilted her chin. ‘Wouldn’t you be distracted if I made your food half-naked? No, don’t answer that,’ she added quickly, when his grin turned naughty. ‘It wasn’t the right comparison.’

‘Probably not, but I liked it.’ He winked, and something flipped in her belly. She was fairly certain it wasn’t the baby. ‘I’ll grab a T-shirt.’

He left the kitchen and finally air flowed easily through her lungs again. She hadn’t noticed how hard it had been to breathe around him. But she knew it was a sure sign that she was digging a hole that she might not be able to get out of.

And it wasn’t only because of how he made her feel. It was because Jess knew what Anja and Dylan’s relationship was like. And because she knew how much he’d hurt her friend by leaving.

Anja hadn’t even told Dylan that he was going to be an uncle. Or that his niece or nephew would be brought into the world by a surrogate. She hadn’t told him about her miscarriage after years of fertility struggles, or how those struggles and that miscarriage had been the reason she’d decided to use a surrogate.

Or, Jess thought, about the fact that she was that surrogate.

Jess couldn’t say she agreed with her friend’s silence. But then, Jess didn’t understand the dynamic between siblings since she didn’t have any. Nor did she understand what it was like to be part of a real family unit, where hurt and betrayal resulted from a member of that unit doing something the others didn’t approve of.

She could barely call her family a family, for heaven’s sake, let alone a unit.

Anja was the closest thing Jess had to family, which was why she’d offered to be Anja and Chet’s surrogate. It was also why she should have been calling Anja, telling her about Dylan’s return instead of waiting for him to put a shirt on so that he could make her lunch.

Jess distracted herself by looking around. The open-plan living room and kitchen were filled with light from windows and doors that made up most of the rooms’ external structure. From where she stood, she could see a sunroom where she would kill to spend a few hours in the afternoon sun, furnished in muted colours that told her Dylan had incredible style, or had hired someone who did.

The living room was just as stylish, though she wasn’t a big fan of the darker finishes he’d chosen. She couldn’t deny that it was striking against the cream-coloured walls and solid brick fireplace, but she preferred the warmth of the kitchen. With its light waterfall counter and space around the island, it was the type of room she’d always felt more comfortable in. Understated and tasteful. Despite the fact that she’d grown up in opulence. But more likely because of it.

Before she could go down that path, Dylan walked in wearing a blue T-shirt that did nothing to detract from his sexiness. She almost sighed when her heart did a quick tumble in her chest, and a voice in her head asked her to rethink agreeing to have lunch with him.

‘Still hungry?’ he asked and, despite the warning, Jess heard herself say, ‘Yes, I am.’

She watched him go through the rhythms of making their lunch. Watched as he didn’t so much as give her an indulgent smile as he chopped the bananas and plopped them in a bowl, adding a generous dollop of peanut butter as though he’d made the meal countless times before. He finished his sandwich almost as quickly and then offered her something to drink. Before she knew it, she was following him into the sunroom she’d admired earlier.

‘You didn’t have to go to all this effort,’ she said when they sat.

‘It wasn’t really an effort.’ He shrugged and took a big bite of his sandwich.

She followed by spooning banana and peanut butter together, and then lifted it to her mouth. When she’d swallowed, she looked up to see him watching her, a strange expression on his face. She wasn’t sure why it made her feel flushed and, though she wanted to, she didn’t think she’d be able to blame it on pregnancy hormones. It had her blurting out the first thing that came to mind.

‘I quite liked the trees in your backyard before you cut them down.’

‘I did, too. But their leaves were clogging the gutters and, with winter coming, I thought I’d do something about it. You know, make sure the gutters work when the rain comes and have wood for the fireplace.’

Dutifully, she said, ‘The fireplace is wonderful. Your whole house is.’

His eyes scanned her face and she felt another flush of heat. ‘Why don’t I believe you, Jess?’

‘I don’t know,’ she replied, and quickly ate another spoonful of peanut butter. She regretted it immediately when she noticed he was still watching her, and tried her best to act casually. When she’d swallowed, she reached for the bottle of water he’d offered her earlier and drank greedily.

‘I don’t really like the décor,’ he continued as though there hadn’t been any pause after her answer. ‘But I’d already left before it was finished, so I wasn’t really involved with the decision-making. Anja was, though, since we used the same guy for both our places, and I prefer hers.’

‘I thought you hadn’t been back since...since you left,’ she finished lamely, though his expression told her he knew she’d meant to say since your father died.

‘No, I haven’t been back, but I saw pictures of both our places. I think Anja purposely gave the designer free rein to get back at me.’

‘For what?’

‘For leaving.’ His eyes stayed on hers. ‘Though you’d know more about that than I would.’

‘Anja didn’t tell me about the décor at all. I think it might have been before my time.’

‘I wasn’t talking about the décor.’

She forced herself to hold his gaze. ‘I’m not sure what you’re talking about.’

‘About my sister’s feelings about me leaving. You mentioned that she told you more than just the fact that I’d left for business.’

‘Yes.’

‘Care to share?’ He gave her a smile that told her he was trying to charm her again.

‘No.’

The smile faltered. ‘I thought—’

‘What?’ she interrupted. ‘That I’d tell you everything your sister told me?’

He lifted an arm. Rubbed the back of his neck. ‘I thought that since you were her friend, you must know...something.’

‘The fact that I’m her friend means that I wouldn’t tell you what I know.’ Jess set down her bowl and perched on the edge of her chair. ‘You didn’t ask me over because you wanted the two of us to get along for Anja’s sake. You asked me over so that I could tell you something that would help you get along with Anja.’

‘And if I tell you you’re right?’

‘Then I’d say that it was lovely meeting you, Dylan, and wish you all the best for your return to Cape Town on my way out.’

He set his lunch down just as she had, and when he met her gaze his expression was a plea she felt hit her right in the chest. ‘You must have known that was part of the reason I asked you over.’

She considered it. ‘Maybe. But—’

But I wanted to believe that you wanted to get to know me.

She nearly laughed at herself. Clearly she hadn’t learnt her lesson yet. People never wanted her.

‘It seems like you want something from me that I’m not willing to give you. So it’s probably best if I just leave.’

‘No, Jess, don’t.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because... I’m sorry.’ He ran a hand through his hair. ‘I’ve handled this poorly.’

‘You’re apologising way too much for someone who’s only just met me,’ she said softly. Coolly.

‘So I’ll be honest instead,’ he replied, his voice tight. ‘I wanted to know...what I was coming back to. The extent of the damage I caused by leaving.’

‘I think you already do.’

He nodded. ‘It would be nice to have some more...context.’

She shook her head and rose to her feet. ‘I don’t have context to give you. No,’ she said when he opened his mouth to protest. ‘Your context should come from Anja. Or your mother.’

His face darkened. ‘I suppose I’ll have to wait for Anja to get back then.’

Jess frowned. ‘You don’t have to. Your mother lives—’

‘Thank you, Jess,’ he interrupted, and stood with her. ‘It’s been lovely meeting you.’

Though Jess didn’t understand his reaction, she knew that he was asking her to leave. She would have been offended if she wasn’t so...curious. It was clear that Dylan had no intention of asking his mother about what had happened after he’d left. And the look on his face told her that there was a reason for that. A reason even Anja didn’t know, or else Jess would know, too.

It was all very interesting, but Jess told herself it was none of her business. Again. She didn’t know why she had to remind herself of that so often, so she murmured her thanks to Dylan and walked towards the door.

‘Jess—’ Dylan said from behind her.

‘It’s okay.’ She opened the door and gave Daisy one last pat. ‘You don’t have to explain it to me. I get it.’ She paused. ‘It was lovely meeting you, too, Dylan. I hope your return to Cape Town is everything you hoped it would be.’

She walked out before he could reply.

* * *

Dylan stared at the door long after Jess had left, hoping that their interaction wasn’t an omen for the rest of his return.

He knew the way things had spiralled between them was his fault. But he’d wanted to know what Jess knew. He told himself it was because it would give him an indication of what Anja knew. Of what his sister thought of him. But, deep down, he knew it was because he didn’t want Jess to judge him based on the only thing he’d done in his life that had disappointed his sister.

Because he’d been disappointed, too, and he knew what it felt like. His entire life, his father had disappointed him. It was the best—or, rather, easiest—word to use to describe how Dylan felt about his father. About the man’s gambling addiction. About his absence. And perhaps Dylan would have been able to put it all behind him after his father had died if he hadn’t found out his mother had known about his father’s problems before he or Anja had been born.

He and Anja had spent their entire childhood trying to comfort their mother after their father had left them. They’d no longer been children. Instead, their existence had been dedicated to keeping the woman who’d borne them from spiralling into a deep depression.

What had been the point of all that when his mother had known what she’d been getting into with his father?

When Dylan had found out, he couldn’t bring himself to tell Anja. So he’d left, and tried to deal with the anger by himself, away from her. His anger at the secret his mother had kept from them. His anger about the inexplicable grief he felt at losing a man he’d barely known.

He couldn’t get past the irony that by wanting to keep Anja from the same disappointment he’d felt in their parents, he’d disappointed her. More than that, he thought, remembering that expression on her face when he’d told her he was leaving again. He’d abandoned her.

Just like his father had abandoned them.


CHAPTER THREE (#ud7b02e0f-3765-5375-9abf-55cd73c20015)

JESS WOKE UP to water dripping onto her face.

It took her a moment to realise that water was dripping on to her face, and more time to realise that that wasn’t a good thing. She sat up and looked at the ceiling, only to see a long, slim strip of water dripping across the length of the room.

Her first thought was that she needed to close the water main, and that she’d figure out where the water was coming from once she had. But when she reached down to put her shoes on, she realised that she didn’t actually know where the water main was.

It took her another few minutes to figure out that she needed to ask Dylan for help, and she sighed before slipping on the soft boots she wore as slippers.

The entire floor of the passage to the front door was wet, and Jess’s heart beat heavily in her chest as she walked through the water. She locked the door and then rushed to Dylan’s house, and waited impatiently for him to answer after she rang the bell.

Seconds later he opened the door, and Jess found herself staring into a bare chest. Again. Why didn’t he have a shirt on? she thought, annoyance straightening her spine. Didn’t he realise it was autumn? She tilted her head up, and only then saw that his hair was mussed from sleep. Which, she discovered, had the same effect on her as his bare chest.

She forced herself to focus on the reason she’d woken him. ‘Do you know where the water main to Anja’s house is?’

He frowned. ‘Yeah, why?’

‘No time. I’ll explain after you shut it off.’

His eyes swept over her, and for the first time she realised that the only thing she’d done after waking up was put her slippers on. She must look a mess, she thought, wincing internally. But she wouldn’t dwell on it now. Which was probably a good thing since a voice in her head reminded her that she’d woken with water on her face, which had probably made her look even worse.

Thankfully, he seemed to take her appearance as a sign of urgency and he walked past her, barely waiting for her to waddle after him before he was at the front of Anja’s house, opening a concealed hatch and reaching inside. Then he was at her side again, offering her another view of his naked chest.

‘You’re going to catch a cold if you don’t put a shirt on,’ she said, crossing her arms when her comment reminded her that she didn’t have much on either. She was more dressed than he was, but her oversized shirt and black pyjama pants were not exactly the items she’d have chosen had she known she was going to see anyone, let alone him.

Besides, she wasn’t wearing a bra, and she knew her pregnancy boobs weren’t going to politely refuse to be noticed, especially in the cold.

‘If you keep telling me to put a shirt on, I’m going to think you have a problem with me being shirtless. And then I’d have to ask why you have problem with me being shirtless, and I’m guessing that’s not a conversation you want to have.’

As if to prove his point, he ran a hand through his hair. His biceps bulged and her throat went dry.

‘I’m only worried about your health,’ she managed stiffly.

‘Oh, I forgot. Because of your medical background, right?’ He grinned and she almost—almost—smiled back. Instead, she pressed a hand on his hip and pressed gently, much like she had the day before. And, just like he had the day before, he winced.

She gave him a sweet smile. ‘How’s your hip feeling?’

‘Oh, aren’t you hilarious?’

‘I’m not the one trying to be a comedian this morning.’

‘I wouldn’t have had to be anything besides asleep if you hadn’t woken me up.’ Now he ran a hand over the back of his neck, pushing his chest out ever so slightly. She swallowed. ‘What time is it?’

‘I... I don’t know,’ Jess replied as she realised she didn’t. She winced. ‘I’m sorry for waking you up. I just didn’t know what to do...’ She waited a beat. ‘Thank you. For your help.’

He nodded. ‘You have a burst pipe?’

‘Your guess is as good as mine. All I know is that I woke up with water dripping onto my face.’ She sighed. ‘The house is a mess.’

It would be a logistical nightmare for her. Not because she would have to take care of getting it fixed, but because she wasn’t only staying at Anja’s house to house-sit. No, she had just bought her own place and was staying at Anja’s until her new home could be made liveable. It was small, and the deposit had taken most of her savings, but it was her own. A fact that always, always brought her joy.

It reminded her that when she’d cut ties with her parents two years ago she had nothing except her university degree. It could have been enough, especially since her surname meant something in the finance industry she’d been trained for, but she hadn’t wanted to rely on that. She wanted something of her own. Something that couldn’t in any way be attributed to her rich, successful parents whose only concern had been their business.

Not the child they’d mistakenly conceived.

So she’d applied for a job she was wholly overqualified for, doing the day-to-day admin for a yoga studio. She updated and maintained Anja’s website, managed bookings, dealt with queries, emails and, for the past year, helped Anja with the admin for opening her studio in Sydney. It had been a dream of Anja’s as Chet was Australian and she’d wanted roots there just like Chet had in South Africa.

And the job had turned out to be a dream for Jess—the constant stream of things to do a welcome distraction from the past and the parents she’d walked away from.

For two years Jess hadn’t spent any of the money she’d earned on anything besides the essentials. It meant that she was able to afford the small flat she’d bought, twenty minutes away from Chet and Anja’s place. But that flat was a mess.

She couldn’t begrudge it since its state was why she’d got it at such a good price, but it needed a lot of work before anyone could live there. Since Chet owned a construction company he’d offered to do the work for her, and had refused payment. And then Anja had found out Jess’s lease was ending and her landlord was being difficult about letting her stay there on a month-to-month contract and had offered for Jess to stay at their place until her flat was habitable.

She knew they felt indebted to her. Especially since she’d refused to consider payment for carrying their child. But really, she saw them as family. As the only family she had. And family did things like that for one another. They cared, and helped, and sacrificed. Not because they wanted anything in return, but because they loved one another.

The concept was foreign to her parents, and that was part of the reason she hadn’t spoken to them in two years. But it was okay. She’d found her place.

Except in the literal sense, since her place was currently flooded.

She sighed again. ‘I should probably call Anja. Excuse me.’

‘There’s not much she can do from there.’

‘Maybe not, but I still need to tell her before I start sorting it all out.’

‘Sure,’ he agreed. ‘Or, if you give me a moment to put on a shirt, I can have a look and help you sort it out. So when you do call Anja you’ll be calling her with answers, not just a problem.’

Relief swept through her first, and then came the niggling suspicion. Why was he offering to help her? What would he get from it?

‘You’re trying to get back on Anja’s good side again, aren’t you?’

‘Isn’t that why I do everything?’ he replied dryly, making her wonder what he really meant. Dozens of options went through her head but, for the life of her, she couldn’t focus on one of them. Realising it meant that she was tired, that she needed help, Jess nodded.

‘I’d appreciate the help. Thanks.’

‘I’ll see you in a minute.’

She watched as he jogged back to his house, taking in the way his jeans rode low on his hips. It gave her the perfect view of a very fine butt, and a muscular back just asking her to run her hands over it.

Jess tried to ignore the way her body responded to the idea, but then she realised that Dylan wearing jeans to bed didn’t make sense. If he didn’t wear a shirt, he definitely wouldn’t wear jeans. Which meant that he must have just thrown on the first thing that had been close by...and that he probably didn’t wear any pants to bed either...

The image sent her thoughts down a dangerous road, and suddenly she couldn’t stop imagining what Dylan would look like naked. Or what it would feel like to be in that bed with him, turning over during the night to run her hands over that delicious body of his. To snuggle closer and kiss him, to feel the way his body responded to hers. With him naked, there would be no barrier to what would happen next, and she’d be able to—

‘Jess?’ She jumped and felt her cheeks flush when she saw Dylan in front of her, completely clothed, with a puzzled look on his face. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Yeah, I’m fine. Ready to go inside?’ She didn’t wait for his answer and instead walked to the house.

Where had that come from? she thought. She wasn’t the kind of girl who had fantasies about men she barely knew. Hell, she didn’t have fantasies about men at all. She’d never been the type. She hadn’t felt the need to date around and see where it would take her. She’d had two steady boyfriends in her life, and both relationships had only lasted about a year.

When her last relationship had ended, Jess had seen no point in trying again. Sure, it might have been because her life had completely changed shortly after the break-up. But she’d worked hard to rebuild it—by herself—for the last two years and she hadn’t seen the point in having a man around while she did.

So perhaps the fantasy she’d just had about Dylan was the result of the nothingness she’d had in her life since she’d broken up with her last boyfriend. Or it could have been her over-excited pregnancy hormones. She would put it down to both, and refuse to acknowledge the third option.

That maybe she just wanted her best friend’s brother.

She was almost relieved when she saw the puddles on the floor when she walked in. It gave her something else to think about. Something else to worry about.

‘Wow,’ he said from behind her.

‘Yeah,’ she replied, taking it all in. ‘I’m not sure what happened.’

‘It looks like it came from the second floor. I’ll go take a look.’

While he was upstairs, Jess tried to do some damage control. She used towels to soak up the water on the floor, and wiped all the surfaces that had been affected. Fortunately, it seemed the water had only leaked in her bedroom, the kitchen and onto the passage that led to the front door, missing the carpeted lounge and its expensive furniture.

But she was still out of breath when Dylan returned.

‘It looks like a geyser burst. A quick fix, though I’m not sure we can say the same for the ceiling. There’s some water damage—’ He broke off and frowned at her. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Yeah, fine.’ She waved a hand. ‘I’m just not used to not being able to do normal things like dry the floor.’

‘Why don’t you rest for a bit? I’ll finish up here and make the necessary calls.’

‘No, you don’t have to.’

She stepped onto the towel in front of her to pick up the one just beyond it, but it slipped under her feet and she felt herself falling before she fully realised what was happening. A strong arm went around her waist and drew her up, and then Jess found herself staring into Dylan’s eyes.

There was concern there, but she could also see the faint light of anger at her refusal. But seconds passed and neither of them looked away, and soon his eyes changed. The concern, the anger, faded and was slowly replaced by interest.

By attraction.

That was the word for it, she thought. And it was a dangerous thought since something instantly sprang inside her chest at the prospect, at the recognition of what had caused her fantasy about Dylan earlier. She swallowed as the attraction changed to desire, and more seconds passed as she realised that that change was because of whatever he saw in her eyes.

Because being reminded about the fantasy she’d had about him earlier had made her body go hot. Had made her tingle, ache. Now she was pressed against the chest she’d spent days admiring, her hands braced against it, and she could feel his heart thudding against her hand. She should move, she told herself.

But she couldn’t bring herself to put distance between them. The only movement she wanted to act on was to press herself even closer against him. To feel his muscular body tight against her, and have him feel the softness of her body. Her belly would get in the way, but she could—

The thought stopped her imagination abruptly, and shame took the place of desire. How could she be thinking these things when she was pregnant? When she was carrying a member of Dylan’s family?

There was no way she could entertain these fantasies. She couldn’t think about Dylan in any way other than as Anja’s brother, the uncle to the child she carried. Getting involved with him had no benefits. It would probably hurt her best friend. It might even hurt the baby.

And though she wasn’t the biological mother, while she carried him or her, she was responsible for the baby. The baby was her most important priority, and she couldn’t ignore that just because Dylan made her feel things she’d forgotten she could feel.

Her relationship with Anja was important to her. More important than anything else. She would not screw it up. ‘Thanks,’ she murmured, thoroughly doused of the heat of attraction. ‘Why don’t you get this cleared up and I’ll make the calls? I have the information on my laptop.’

‘It’s not damaged?’ he asked her quietly, taking a step away from her.

‘It’s in the lounge. The water didn’t get there.’

‘Okay then.’

With careful steps, Jess made her way to the lounge. There would be no repeat performance of the last ten minutes.

Not now, not ever.


CHAPTER FOUR (#ud7b02e0f-3765-5375-9abf-55cd73c20015)

BY THE TIME Dylan was done clearing up, the plumber had arrived and confirmed his suspicions: the geyser had burst. While they liaised with the insurance company and arranged for it to be replaced and informed them of the other damage, Dylan watched Jess. She’d been acting strangely from the moment he’d answered the door that morning, and he couldn’t quite figure out why.

Was it because of the way things had ended between them the day before? Maybe, he thought. But then he remembered the way things had crackled between them when he’d saved her from falling. The way his body had reacted to her body’s proximity, and the shame he’d felt when she’d pulled away.

She was pregnant, for crying out loud. There was no circumstance in which that didn’t make her off-limits. He needed to remember that, he thought, when his heart stuttered as his eyes rested on her.

But, damn it, there was just something about her that pulled him in. That made rational thought not matter, and made hope flair when it shouldn’t. And it had nothing to do with her relationship with his sister.

He told himself to pull back, to control himself, and went over to talk with her.

‘The insurance is sending out their own evaluators this afternoon,’ she said, and he saw the fatigue in her eyes.

‘Figured as much when we realised the plumber we called wasn’t on their list of approved service providers.’

‘I’ve told them what the plumber identified the problem as, and gave them the details of the geyser. I doubt they’ll arrive with it—wouldn’t want to waste their money in case it wasn’t what we said—but it should be replaced by the end of the day.’

‘And the ceiling?’

‘They’re sending someone out for that and the rest of the damage today, too.’

He nodded. ‘I don’t think the ceiling will be too much of an effort. Might just be a paint job. The rest will have to dry.’

‘It’ll probably take a good solid two days,’ she replied. ‘And the water will probably be off for today. The painting should be done tomorrow, but the fumes might keep me out for at least another day.’ She bit her lip. ‘It might end up being more than two days.’ She rested a hand on her stomach, and the action did something strange to his insides.

‘Do you have somewhere to go?’ he asked, his thoughts making his words gruff.

‘No,’ she said softly.

‘Where do you live when you’re not living here?’

‘I just bought a place that isn’t ready for me to move in yet. And the lease of the one I rented before is up.’ She sighed. ‘Anja and Chet are letting me stay here until my flat’s ready.’

He processed the information. ‘What about the father of the baby?’

She hesitated. ‘He isn’t an option right now.’

‘So he doesn’t care where the mother of his child is?’

‘That’s not—’ She broke off. ‘He isn’t an option. But this isn’t your problem, so don’t worry. I’ll figure something out.’

‘I will worry. You have nowhere to go.’

‘I’ll be fine.’

‘Jess—’

‘Why are you pushing me?’

‘Why won’t you accept my help?’

‘I have accepted your help. With all of this.’ She waved her hand around them at the house. ‘You’ve done enough.’

‘Not if I leave you to figure things out by yourself,’ he argued. ‘Letting someone help you isn’t going to rob you of anything, you know.’

‘Not in my experience.’

He paused. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Nothing,’ she said immediately, shaking her head. ‘It doesn’t mean anything.’

He studied her. Couldn’t bring himself to look away from her. Not when her expression was so captivating. She’d been hurt before, he saw. And realised that hurt had made her lose something of herself.

Though he barely knew her, Dylan found his fists curling and his mind fantasising about being alone with whoever had hurt her. And since she was pregnant and didn’t want to turn to the father of her child for help, Dylan was willing to bet he knew who he’d like to hurt.

He forced himself to relax. ‘Okay, how about you get some of your clothes and come over to my place for breakfast? You can figure it out there,’ he added over the protest he could sense would come from her.

But, instead of protesting, she said, ‘That would be great, thanks,’ surprising him. He watched as she got up—resisting the urge to help her when her movements looked the slightest bit sluggish—and waited in the passage leading to the front door while she packed.

He used the time to look at his sister’s house. Just as he’d told Jess the day before, he preferred the décor here to that of his own house. Though the architecture was much the same, the bright colours made Anja’s house look more homely than his own. When he’d told Anja as much, she’d told him that if he’d been there, maybe he could have made sure his was homely, too.

It had been the first sign of the crack in their relationship, but of course, he’d ignored it. It had been easier to do than facing the fact that he should have been home...

Jess came out then, just in time to stop those thoughts from spiralling. He wordlessly took the small suitcase she had, and turned towards his place. He was almost surprised to see how sullen the sky had become, though he shouldn’t have been. It was autumn, and the warmth of the past few days had been more of a fluke than the grey sky.

He opened the door of his house to an excited dog, who became even more excited when she saw Jess behind him. Though he could still see the fatigue in Jess’s eyes, she dutifully gave Daisy the attention the dog wanted and then followed him into the kitchen.

It was strange having her in his house again. Which itself was strange, considering that he’d only been living in that house for eight days himself after being away from it for two years. And since the décor had changed while he’d been away, it was almost like living in a new place.

‘You can have the guest room,’ he told her, leading the way. ‘My housekeeper comes in every second day, so the room should be okay to stay in. There’s an en suite bathroom, too, so it has everything you need.’

‘Thanks. I think I’ll take a shower and change.’

‘And I’ll get breakfast ready.’

‘Oh, you really don’t have to—’

‘I know,’ he interrupted her. ‘But I’m hungry, too, so it won’t be that much of an effort.’

He left before she could argue with him, and started making their breakfast. Cooking was one of the habits he’d picked up growing up that didn’t annoy him. At first it had been for survival. After it had become clear his father wasn’t going to come home, his mother had given up on most tasks, including feeding them.

So Dylan had used the money he’d found in his father’s safe to buy food, but he’d quickly realised that the money wouldn’t last if he didn’t learn how to buy sustainable items. And that the items that had been sustainable required effort on his behalf. So he’d spent a lot of time watching cooking shows, had flipped through the faded cookbooks in his mother’s bookshelf and had taught himself to cook. He’d soon realised that it calmed him, and had roped Anja in, hoping she’d feel the same way.

‘You look better,’ he said when he saw Jess walk into the kitchen. He plated the muffins his housekeeper had made.

‘You mean better than the horror show I was this morning?’

‘Not at all. I just meant—’ He broke off when he saw her smile, and felt his stomach flip. He ignored it.

‘Do you want something to drink?’

‘Tea, please.’ She settled onto the bar stool at the counter.

‘I have more comfortable chairs in the living room.’

‘I know. But I won’t let this baby rob me of the opportunity to eat while I watch you cook.’

She gave him a cheeky grin, and he laughed. She did look better than before. Not only because now she wore a long-sleeved black dress that stretched down to her feet with a belt tied under her breasts accentuating her bump, but because she didn’t look quite as tired, as restless, as she had when she’d first got there.

He wondered if that meant he could convince her to stay with him while the work on Anja’s house was being done. The thought was as surprising as it was sudden, but when he thought about it he realised it wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

Unless he thought about how things sparked between them. And how badly he wanted to kiss her lips, to taste her mouth and feel the fullness of her body against his again...

Which, of course, he wouldn’t think about.

He told himself to wait until breakfast was over before he mentioned it, and slid the tea and muffins in front of her. ‘Your wish is my command.’

‘You’re such a good man,’ she breathed as she picked up a chocolate muffin.

He bit back a grin. ‘Those are the first ones I go for, too.’

‘They’re delicious. Where did you get them?’

‘My housekeeper made them for me.’

‘They’re homemade? You need to ask her for the recipe.’

‘You cook?’ he asked, and started cutting fruit. He didn’t know what was in a pregnant woman’s diet, but he figured he’d cover all his bases.

‘That’s baking, Dylan.’

‘You bake?’

‘No.’

His lips curved. ‘So you cook, then?’

‘Nope.’

‘Then why did you correct me?’

‘It seemed like a fun thing to do,’ she said with a smile, and then sobered. ‘I’ve been learning how to do both over the last few years. I’m not quite at the level of being able to say that I can cook or bake well, but I can feed myself. And these—’ she lifted the muffin ‘—are definitely the kind of food I’d like to learn how to make.’

‘What happened a few years ago? That made you want to learn how to cook and bake, I mean.’ He set the fruit he’d been cutting up to the side, and began preparing the bacon and eggs.

‘I... I moved out of my parents’ house.’

He frowned. ‘How old are you?’

‘Old enough to have been out of my parents’ house by then,’ she said with a laugh, but it sounded forced. ‘We used to have a cook, so there was never really a need for me to learn how to feed myself.’

‘You had a cook?’

‘Yes.’ He glanced over to see the hesitation in her eyes. ‘Extravagant, isn’t it?’

‘I wasn’t thinking that.’

‘I wouldn’t blame you if you did.’

He turned to her and watched as she avoided his eyes. And suddenly he thought that perhaps he’d attributed the hurt he saw in her to someone who hadn’t deserved it.

‘So you had an...extravagant childhood?’

‘I guess you could say that.’

‘What would you say?’

‘I...was always well provided for.’ He could hear the care she’d taken with those words.

‘Your parents are wealthy?’

‘Yes.’

‘So why—’ He broke off, knowing that his question would veer into territory she might not be comfortable with. But she finished his sentence for him.

‘Why am I working as a PA?’ He nodded. ‘Well, I wasn’t...well cared for. Or cared for at all,’ she added softly, and Dylan felt his heart throb. ‘So, when I moved out, I stopped talking to them. Which meant I had to take care of myself, hence this job.’

Seconds passed as he digested this new information. ‘When you didn’t want my help this morning, were you...thinking about them?’

‘Only about how they used to throw it in my face whenever I asked them for help.’ She paused. ‘I remember when I was younger, I started saving for a new laptop. I didn’t want to use my dad’s old one any more, so I got a job and put away every cent of it so I could buy myself a new one. But my dad’s laptop broke before I had enough money to replace it, so I asked them to help me buy a new one.’ She lifted a hand, brushed at something on her cheek that he couldn’t see. ‘I thought that having half of the money for it—that working for it—would make them proud, but—’ she cleared her throat ‘—but it didn’t. They helped me buy the laptop, and reminded me of it whenever I acted in a way they didn’t approve of.’




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