Flight Of Fantasy Read online

  ‘What is it, Eden?’ Slade asked, shattering her reverie as he touched a finger to her chin, tilting her face up to him.

  The light touch against her throat and the intense concern she glimpsed in his eyes was almost too much. Then common sense asserted itself. ‘Nothing, why?’

  ‘For a moment, you looked incredibly sad, as if the weight of the world was on your shoulders.’ His hands slid down, coming to rest on the top of her arms. ‘They’re much too slight for such a burden.’

  Choked by feelings which threatened to overwhelm her, she spun away on to the terrace. ‘I’m tougher than I look.’

  She felt rather than heard his change of demeanour. His voice was cold when he said, ‘I don’t doubt it. Someone with your ambition would have to be.’

  No, no, you’re wrong about me, she wanted to deny—then immediately questioned why she should care what he thought. Wasn’t it better if he accepted his own explanation of her behaviour, rather than sought the real one?

  She affected a bright smile as she turned back to him. ‘You’re right, of course. Now which bedroom do you want me to take?’

  A wry smile spilled across his features. ‘I don’t suppose there’s any point in saying mine?’

  ‘None at all,’ she said briskly, striving to control her heartbeat, which contrarily picked up speed at the very idea. ‘It wasn’t part of our agreement.’

  He gave an exaggerated shake of his head in mock-disappointment. ‘What a pity.’

  It was only as she settled into the master bedroom which he generously allocated to her, complete with its own terrace and ocean view, that she realised how restrictive this arrangement must be to him.

  By ruling out holiday flirtations for her, a supposedly married woman, he had also ruled out casual sex for himself. If the reports of his love life were even partially true, celibacy was not his preferred state.

  Her uneasy glance went to the closed door which separated them. She could hear him humming under his breath as he mixed a drink for himself, she having already declined one. She hoped he had his male hormones firmly under control because she had no intentions of taking this make-believe marriage any further. Slade Benedict was arrogant, unfeeling and iron-willed. His readiness to commandeer her holiday for his own purposes was proof enough. She would be crazy to let him use her any further, when she knew from past experience how it was bound to end.

  All the same, there was something about him which haunted her. His power over her job and pay cheque couldn’t explain it. This was much more intimate and disturbing, and she slammed her suitcase lid down hard, as if she could also put a lid on her thoughts. The sound reverberated through the suite, reminding Eden that she hadn’t heard any sounds from the other room for a while. Slade had said he intended to check out the conference venue, as he would be giving an address next day, so he must have gone to do so.

  Cautiously, she opened her bedroom door and stepped into the living-room which separated their sleeping quarters. The remains of his drink sat on a side-table, a film of moisture beading the glass. Lazily she traced a pattern in the moisture then withdrew hastily. It was only his glass, for goodness’ sake. She should throw it in his face, not dream over it. What on earth was getting into her?

  Her wandering gaze was arrested by several items lying behind the glass. Slade must have emptied his pockets before going out.

  She ignored the jumble of keys, tickets and other paraphernalia, drawn instead to an open ticket wallet in which she glimpsed some photographs. Slade’s family? The temptation to peek was irresistible.

  They were indeed family snaps, she found when she drew them towards her. One was of Slade wrestling an enormous black dog, a Newfoundland, Eden noted. He looked more relaxed and happy than she had ever seen him at the office. The second photo was a studio portrait of a young girl of about nine or ten. Her face was set in such a wistful expression that Eden’s heart constricted in response.

  ‘My daughter,’ Slade supplied in a harsh tone.

  She jumped, not having heard him return. Waves of nausea washed over her. If this was his daughter, then somewhere there was a real Mrs Benedict. What did he think he was playing at?

  ‘Not my real daughter, of course,’ he supplied as if reading her thoughts. ‘Katie was my sister’s child. She and her husband were killed in a road accident and Katie was the only survivor.’

  Tears blurred Eden’s vision. ‘Poor little mite. How old was she when they died? I mean, I don’t want to pry or anything, but——’

  ‘But you need to know about her in order to play your part,’ he cut in before she could finish. He joined her on the couch and lifted the folder from her hands. His expression softened as he studied the photo and she wondered at the change in him. Where was the ruthless, uncaring dictator now?

  The expression was gone in an instant, replaced by a hard, cold mask which chilled her to look upon it. ‘My sister married against family advice,’ he told her. ‘When her husband found out that she had no money of her own other than an income from shares I’d given her in my company, what love there was soon died. By then Julie was pregnant with Katie and she stayed for the sake of her child.’

  Eden touched his hand lightly. ‘You don’t have to tell me any more.’

  His bleak expression raked her. ‘I don’t, but I shall, so you know exactly how things are with me. A wife would know, wouldn’t she?’

  But a real wife, not a play-acting one, she thought painfully. It occurred to her that perhaps there weren’t many people he could take into his confidence. With his knowledge of her own personnel file, she was hardly likely to betray his confidence, so he felt safe telling her the facts. With a feeling of emptiness, she nodded.

  He linked his hands behind his head and stared at the ocean beyond the window. ‘Julie endured it as long as she could but her husband’s womanising got too much to ignore. Eight months ago, she telephoned me to say she was leaving him. She and Katie were to stay with me until she decided their future.’

  A lump rose in Eden’s throat. Was it his sister’s experience which had soured him on the idea of marriage? ‘What happened?’ she asked softly.

  ‘Her husband followed them in his own car, finally forcing them off the road. The roads were wet. Both cars rolled, killing their drivers. Katie was strapped into the back seat of Julie’s car and they were able to get her out with only minor scratches.’

  ‘How horrible,’ Eden said, wanting to cry. ‘Is Katie all right now?’

  ‘She has occasional nightmares about the crash but I’ve tried to give her as normal a home life as possible. I moved to a house along Nutgrove Beach where she seems to have settled down.’

  The area was one of the most exclusive residential parts of Hobart, only a few minutes’ drive from the city centre. ‘Who takes care of her while you’re away from home?’

  ‘Our housekeeper, Ellen. She worked for Julie before the tragedy, and has known Katie since she was born, so it’s an ideal arrangement.’

  Slade as a family man, with an adopted daughter, was so at odds with her perceptions of him that she felt confused. ‘You must love Katie very much to do all that for her,’ she speculated.

  ‘That’s the trouble,’ he said harshly. ‘I don’t know. I’m still getting used to this father business.’

  Eden sat up, hugging her knees close to her chest, unaware of how youthful the pose made her look. ‘Why did you decide to adopt her if fatherhood is so unappealing?’

  ‘I didn’t say it was unappealing.’

  ‘Your tone did.’

  Irritation furrowed his brow. ‘You’re right. I never wanted the domestic package of a wife and two-point-five children. I had my parents’ and Julie’s marriage to prove that it doesn’t work. But I couldn’t abandon my own sister’s child.’

  Anger rose in Eden, coiling tightly in her chest until she had to say what was on her mind. ‘Well, no wonder you don’t enjoy fatherhood with that attitude. Katie’s probably well aware that she’s
a duty to you.’

  ‘I’ve never allowed her to know how I feel.’

  ‘You don’t have to. Children know when they’re loved and wanted.’

  His thunderous expression should have warned her she’d gone too far. ‘As far as I’m aware, you’re no expert on the subject of marriage and children, unless you lied about them, too.’

  ‘I didn’t lie. It was a stupid misunderstanding which got out of hand.’ Without telling him the whole story, she couldn’t convince him that she had allowed the error to stand out of the purest motives.

  ‘Before coming to work for you, I spent some time as a teacher’s aide in a kindergarten. I thought about getting a certificate in early childhood education.’ Until the need to earn a living had ruled out the required years of study, she thought ruefully.

  ‘But corporate communications promised bigger rewards and a fast track to the top.’ He put his own interpretation on the facts.

  She shook her head until her hair haloed around her head. ‘It may look that way, but it wasn’t why I gave up teaching. I loved being around the little ones. They’re so eager to learn, so fascinated by the newness of the world.’

  He took in her shining eyes and heightened colour. ‘You sound like perfect mother material. When are you going to get off the career ladder and have some of your own?’

  Pain knifed through her until she jumped to her feet. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she threw at him and flung herself through the door into her bedroom, where she leaned against the door, her chest aching with unshed tears.

  His fist pounded on the door, sending vibrations shuddering through her. ‘Go away,’ she shouted.

  ‘Not until you tell me what I said to provoke such an outburst,’ he insisted. ‘You’d better open up. I’ll break the door down if I have to.’

  She had no doubt that he meant it and had the strength to back up his threat. Shakily, she opened the door, guarding a narrow opening with her body as if daring him to thrust past her. His shoulder forced the opening steadily wider until she gave up and moved aside. Standing in front of the window, she wrapped her arms around her trembling body.

  He came up behind her. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him reach for her, and every nerveending tensed. If he touched her, her defences would crumble and she’d be forced to tell him the truth.

  Instead, he rested his hands on the back of a chair alongside her, his arms enclosing her without touching her. ‘What is it, Eden? What did I say?’

  ‘You didn’t say anything. The problem is mine. I can’t have children.’

  He swore under his breath. ‘And I went and put my foot right in it, didn’t I?’

  ‘You couldn’t know.’ Her voice was ragged. This was the last subject she had expected to discuss with him. ‘It isn’t something I like to advertise.’

  ‘Of course not.’ The compassion in his voice caught her by surprise. She hadn’t expected him to make allowances for any kind of weakness. She searched his face, seeking at least a trace of the distaste he must be feeling, but found none. ‘What’s the problem, something physiological?’ he asked gently.

  She was curiously unwilling to let him think she was less than a whole woman. ‘Everything works,’ she said, aware that his concern threatened to undermine her shaky defences.

  His hand drifted to her cheek, his touch feather-light. ‘I wasn’t doubting your womanhood,’ he assured her. ‘You have only to look into a mirror to see the beauty and femininity you possess in breathtaking abundance.’

  There was no need. She could see it reflected in his eyes as he regarded her with heart-stopping intensity. Her heart hammered against her ribs. How had they shifted on to such dangerously intimate ground so quickly? It must be the talk of babies which clouded her mind with images of Slade making love to her, the vision so vivid that a gnawing sense of loss filled her. Tears sprang to her eyes.

  Slade caught one droplet on the tip of a finger and tut-tutted softly. ‘I’m sorry I brought up a sensitive subject. Isn’t there anything to be done—test tubes, donor sperm, that sort of thing?’

  He had totally misread her tears. For once, they weren’t for the child she was capable of bearing but dared not, but for a future which was also beyond her reach.

  ‘There’s a...a genetic problem,’ she demurred. Some of the options he’d mentioned were available to her, but it would mean carrying another woman’s child. It could never be her own flesh and blood, carrying her own genes. The risk to the child was just too great.

  ‘I’ve considered the options and they aren’t for me,’ she said flatly. ‘Do you mind if we change the subject?’

  ‘Of course not.’ He sounded almost gentle, she thought in astonishment. Damn it, she didn’t want him to feel sorry for her. It was easier to fight him when he thought she was as ruthlessly ambitious as himself.

  She forced a smile, blinking to clear her blurred vision. ‘Well, at least we’ve achieved our aim. We’ve gotten to know each other better so our husband and wife act should be much more convincing.’

  His eyes hardened as he withdrew his hand. ‘It will need to be. Bob Hamilton is checking in tomorrow morning. He’s joining us at breakfast.’

  Panic started to grip her. ‘So early? I was hoping for more time.’

  ‘We still have this evening,’ he reminded her. ‘I’ve made reservations in the Oceana Room for seven o’clock.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Which just gives us time to change.’

  What did one wear to a dinner with one’s husband of less than a day? Eden thought when he left her alone. Aware that dressing for dinner was favoured in luxury resorts such as this one, she had included some evening wear in her luggage. But she had imagined herself dining alone or with other single travellers, not with someone as formidable as Slade Benedict.

  In the end, she chose a shimmering jumpsuit whose elasticised waist flattered her trim figure. The glitter-trimmed blouson top was suitably dressy while the narrow legs of the trousers emphasised her slim ankles and high-heeled silver evening sandals. In deference to the tropical climate, she used the lightest make-up, dusting her eyelids with silver shadow to complement her metallic drop earrings. Pouting to apply her lipstick, she appraised herself frankly. If she wasn’t up to his usual standard in women, he had only himself to blame for choosing her.

  When he saw her his blatantly appreciative look dispelled any such doubts. ‘Very nice,’ he murmured, his eyes warm as he took in the figure-hugging lines of the suit. When he came to the low-cut neckline, she had to resist the urge to tug it closed.

  His wolfish smile made it plain that he was aware of her discomfort. ‘Don’t look so worried; you have my approval.’

  ‘I wasn’t aware I needed it,’ she snapped.

  A provocative gleam glinted in his grey gaze. ‘I’m glad to see you’re back on form again. I’d hate to think I’d chosen a woman with no spirit.’

  He was probably more worried about her impression on his former university classmates than her state of mind, she thought with a flash of anger. How typical.

  ‘You needn’t worry. I gave you my word I’d play my part and I shall.’

  ‘You could start by looking a little more loving,’ he advised. ‘You look as if you’d like to come after me with a meat cleaver.’

  She favoured him with a sickly smile. ‘How did you guess?’

  He tut-tutted softly and stepped closer so she could see the satiny gleam on the lapels of his suit. A dinner-jacket suited him, she thought absently, focusing on his perfectly tied bow-tie as it came nearer and nearer.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she demanded, nerves fluttering in her throat.

  ‘Giving you some practice in how to be loving,’ he promised, closing the remaining distance between them.

  ‘This isn’t part of our...’ she managed to get out before his lips closed over hers, muffling the rest of her reminder.

  Being kissed by him wasn’t part of their agreement, but neither was her uninhibi
ted reaction. Some part of her knew she should be fighting him off with all her strength. Yet the part which welcomed the embrace seemed to be winning.

  She had been kissed before, most recently by Joshua, who had managed to convince her he loved her, until the parting came. But nothing had prepared her for the sheer eroticism of Slade’s kiss. It sent signals of desire spiralling down her throat, coiling along her backbone, to the very core of her being.

  Weakly she clung to his shoulders, her fingers digging furrows into his suit. He had made time to shave and his skin felt like velvet against her cheek. She inhaled the leathery scent of shaving cream, feeling the slickness on her skin.

  ‘Open your mouth,’ he murmured against her lips.

  This wasn’t supposed to be happening. ‘No, I...’

  ‘Eden, obey me.’

  Instinctively she did and was swept away by the instant invasion of his tongue, plundering the soft recesses of her mouth. God, he was making love to her with a mere kiss.

  When he moved slowly away, she swayed dizzily, trying to absorb the torrent of sensations he had aroused. Then she saw his self-satisfied look as he blotted her lipstick from his mouth with a monogrammed handkerchief. ‘You bastard. You knew exactly what you were doing, didn’t you?’

  ‘At least you look like a woman who knows the meaning of love.’

  He had played her like an instrument and she had allowed it to happen, to the extent of being a willing accomplice. Well, no more!

  ‘You’re the one who doesn’t know the meaning of love,’ she rasped, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. It felt swollen and bruised. ‘I’m sure you know all about lovemaking. But as for honest human feelings, I doubt if you have any.’

  He tilted an eyebrow at her. ‘I have feelings all right, but they’re more pragmatic than yours. To me, lovemaking is more real and honest than the romantic myths you subscribe to. You only have to look at my mother and sister to see where romantic love gets you. One is going through a messy divorce from her third husband, and the other is dead at the age of twenty-nine.’