Taken by the Millionaire: Hotly Bedded, Conveniently Wedded. Kate Hardy

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СКАЧАТЬ obviously bothering you. Come and sit down and talk to me.’

      ‘I’m busy cooking dinner.’

      She sniffed. ‘Chicken casseroled in red wine, baked potatoes and salad?’

      He smiled wryly. ‘All right. So most of the cooking’s already done. How did you know what I was cooking, anyway?’

      ‘Apart from the fact it’s your signature dish? Educated guess,’ she said dryly. ‘You just emptied that bottle into a clean glass.’

      ‘I could’ve been swigging straight from the bottle,’ he pointed out.

      They both laughed, then he shrugged. ‘Anyway, I’ve been quiet because this is what happens when I have too much time on my hands. I start thinking—and that’s dangerous.’

      ‘Talk to me, Alex,’ she said softly. ‘What’s wrong?’

      ‘This is going to sound mad.’

      ‘Tell me anyway.’

      He sighed and joined her at the table. ‘I’m thirty-five, Bel. My little sisters are all settled, married with a family. All the people I was at university with have settled down—some of them are on their second marriage, admittedly, but they’re settled. And although I love my life, I’m starting to wonder if what I’ve got is really enough for me any more. If it’s what I really want.’

      ‘So you’re saying you want to settle down and have children?’ Isobel asked carefully.

      ‘Yes. No. Maybe.’ He took a sip of wine. ‘I suppose what I’m saying is that I’m starting to think about what I do now. I’m doing something about my job, but what about the rest of my life? Do I want be one of these eternal bachelors who still behave as if they’re in their twenties when they’re pushing sixty?’

      She smiled. ‘I can’t quite see you doing that, Alex.’ He’d still be immensely charming when he was almost sixty. He’d still turn heads. But he’d also have dignity and wouldn’t try to pretend he was still young.

      ‘But time goes by so fast, Bel. It seems like yesterday that Helen had the boys, and now they’re seven. Next thing I know, I’m going to be forty-five and I’ll be the spare man invited to dinner parties to make up the numbers, sitting next to the woman who’s just got divorced and either hates all men or is desperate for company.’

      She frowned. ‘Alex, this isn’t like you. And this whole thing about looking to the future … oh, my God.’ A seriously nasty thought clicked into place. The reason why he suddenly wanted to settle down. ‘Is there something you’re not telling anybody?’

      ‘Such as?’

      Well, if he wasn’t going to say it, she would. This needed to be out in the open. Right now. She swallowed hard. ‘You’re seriously ill?’

      For a moment, there was an unreadable expression on his face, and Isobel felt panic ice its way down her spine. Please, no. Not this.

      ‘I’m fine. In perfect health,’ he told her. ‘But I did hear some bad news about a close friend while I was on my last dig.’

      Someone else. Not Alex. Relief flooded through her, followed by a throb of guilt. Bad news was still bad news. ‘I hope your friend’s OK now.’

      He shook his head. ‘He didn’t make it. It didn’t seem right, standing at Andy’s graveside only a couple of years after I’d been in that same church for his wedding. He’s the first one of my friends to die, and it’s made me realise how short life can be. How I shouldn’t take things for granted. And I got to thinking, maybe it’s time I did something about settling down.’ He looked thoughtful. ‘That’s one of the things I really liked about the specifications for this job. There’s enough travelling to stop me getting itchy feet, but not so much that I can’t have a family life as well. It’s the best of both worlds.’

      A family life.

      So he did want children.

      Which meant, Isobel thought, that he needed to marry someone who could definitely have children—not someone who had a huge question mark hanging over her. After her miscarriages, the doctor had reassured her that the statistics were all on her side, that plenty of women went on to have healthy babies afterwards. Miscarriages were so common that the hospital wouldn’t even begin to look into the causes until a woman had had at least three.

      But Gary hadn’t wanted to take the risk. He hadn’t wanted to stick around and wait.

      And although Alex wasn’t like Gary—she knew he had the integrity to stand by her—he wanted a family. Something she might not be able to give him.

      Telling him the truth was out of the question. If she did, she’d see pity in his face and she’d feel that she was no longer his equal. No way did she want that to happen.

      But not telling him… If he was serious about settling down, if he’d meant that proposal and intended to ask her again, she’d have to refuse. It wouldn’t be fair to accept. If it did turn out that she couldn’t carry a baby to term, that she couldn’t have children … she didn’t want their relationship to go the same way as her marriage had. Down the tubes.

      She pushed the thoughts away. This wasn’t about her. It was about him. ‘Hey, you’ll be a shoo-in for the job. And once you actually stay in one place for more than three seconds, you’ll find Ms Right,’ she said brightly.

      She suppressed the wish that it could’ve been her.

      They spent the rest of the evening talking shop, the way they always did. And Alex behaved the next morning as if everything was just fine, so she followed his lead and pretended he hadn’t opened his heart to her, the previous night.

      She’d been at her desk for an hour when a courier arrived.

      Odd. She wasn’t expecting a delivery. But when she opened the parcel, she discovered a box of seriously good chocolates. And there was a note in familiar spiky script: ‘Thanks for listening’

      Alex might be a whirlwind, but he never took anything for granted.

      She flicked into her email program.

       Thanks for the chocs. Unnecessary but very, very nice. Bel x

      A few moments later, her monitor beeped. Mail from Alex.

       Least I could do. Don’t eat them all at once.

      Ha. As if she would. She smiled, and carried on with the report she was writing.

      A few moments later, her monitor beeped again.

       Doing anything tonight?

       Nothing special. Why?

      It was a while before he responded. And then:

       Consider your evening annexed. Meet you from work. What time do you finish today?

       Six. Do I need to change first?

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