Marriage in Name Only?

A tiny line furrowed between his brows, as if he was weighing up the truth of what she’d said. ‘So … what else did you do while you were overseas? The usual waitressing to fund the campervan to Europe?’

‘I wanted more than that,’ she went on quickly, relieved the nanny topic was over. ‘I picked grapes in France, trekked Nepal, worked on a trail restoration project in the Grand Canyon. Won a wet T-shirt contest in Rome and lost my money in—’ Appalled, she bit her lips together. Please tell me I didn’t just say that. To a man she barely knew. A rich and successful man who’d never have been so careless where money was concerned. She couldn’t even blame her runaway tongue on too much wine.

This was the however many time in less than twelve hours that she’d said too much to Jordan Blackstone. It was none of his business. She should blame him. It was his fault she wasn’t thinking straight.

‘You ran out of funds,’ he finished for her.

‘Ye—No.’ She chewed on her lip then plastered a smile on her face. He probably thought she had a gambling problem or something. ‘Family—I told you already. Last night.’

‘So you did,’ he said slowly, watching her through eyes that were far too perceptive. ‘I wasn’t sure.’

Now he probably thought she’d come back to sponge off her parents. If he only knew it was the other way round. She eyeballed him back. ‘Money’s not important to me. Never has been, never will be.’

He didn’t believe her, she could tell. And okay, money hadn’t been important until now. She looked away from his unsettling assessment and watched the wait staff setting platters of salads and aromatic Eastern dishes on a long glass table.

When she saw the tray of steaming barbecued delights arrive at the table, Chloe moved fast. ‘Looks like the food’s ready,’ she said over her shoulder as she walked away. ‘I’m starved.’

Chloe used the buffet meal to mingle with the other guests under the covered pergola. She didn’t speak with Jordan again, but as she chatted she knew where he was at any given time by the way the hairs on the back of her neck tingled as if they were mini antennae seeking a signal.

So when Tamara asked her to come and look at her new cubby house, Chloe was only too happy to escape.

The little hideaway stood a metre or so off the ground. It was a perfect replica of a gingerbread house, crammed with child-sized furniture, books and toys. Tamara had just settled on a cushion when she jumped up and scrambled to the door. ‘I forgot my princess crown in my bedroom. Wait, okay?’

‘Okay.’

Chloe watched the child skip off across the manicured lawns in her designer dress and shiny shoes with what had to be a fortune in Dubai gold glittering on her arm and blew out a sigh.

Obviously this child was loved, indulged, no struggle to be accepted by her doting parents. Was just wanting to be loved and accepted for who she was too much for Chloe to ask? She stared around at the cubby, luxurious enough to live in.

Okay, money had never been a priority, but right now she could do with a fraction of that wealth. Who knew where her parents might end up without the home they’d lived in for forty years?

And why should she care? Why should Chloe Montgomery, an accidental offspring who’d never fitted in, never lived up to their expectations and had escaped overseas the moment she was old enough, feel any sort of familial obligation?

She rubbed a dull ache that had taken up residence in her heart since Donna’s email last night. Because they were family, bonded through blood—however fragile that connection was.

As fragile as life itself, Chloe thought, remembering how devastatingly final Ellen’s loss had been. Ellen had argued with her family and left without a goodbye and life had been sweet and exciting. But a couple of months ago her parents’ car had been swept away crossing a flooded river in rural Victoria. Chloe would never forget the despair in Ellen’s eyes as they’d said goodbye to each other at Vancouver airport.

A couple of months later, Chloe had decided maybe it was time to come home, too, and re-establish some sort of connection, but she’d needed just a little more cash …

Tamara scrambled up the little steps and burst through the doorway with a sparkling crown on her head and a skateboard under one arm. ‘Can you read me a story?’

Chloe loved telling stories—making up her own adventures where the heroine always won in the end. She’d been doing it since she was Tamara’s age. ‘I can do better than that,’ she told her. ‘I’ll tell you one.’

‘How did last night’s conference call go?’ Sadiq asked Jordan as they wandered away from the group.

‘I was right—I need to be there in person.’ He tightened his jaw, stared out over the garden. ‘If I can talk to Qasim face to face, I know I can convince him. I’ve made an appointment to meet with him next week.’ He turned to his friend. ‘You understand the way things are done there. What’s it going to take?’

‘Stability. Focus. Commitment.’

‘You know me—I’m all three.’

‘Where business is concerned, I agree one hundred per cent, but in other aspects of your life …?’ Sadiq shook his head. ‘It doesn’t help when you’re frequently in the media spotlight with a different woman superglued to your arm every night of the week.’

‘Women have never interfered with my business priorities. They—’

‘And Qasim’s not going to like the possible repercussions for his own business,’ Sadiq continued over the top of Jordan. ‘He’s old school, set in his ways, and has always been of the opinion that married men are more likely to put in the effort. He builds his business deals around that.’

‘And you agree with that reasoning?’

Sadiq shrugged, as if it were nothing. ‘I was brought up that way. Marriages have been arranged around business for centuries. My own marriage was arranged when we were ten years old.’ His gaze searched out his wife amongst the women. She looked their way at that moment and they exchanged an intimate smile.

And Jordan felt something that might have been envy. If he were the type to play happy families. He’d learned he wasn’t the hard way. He shoved his hands in his trouser pockets. ‘I’m living proof that he’s wrong. What’s more, I’m going to prove it to him.’

‘If anyone can, it’s you.’ Sadiq nodded encouragement. ‘Still, it wouldn’t hurt to have an advantage.’

‘Like what?’

‘Why don’t you speak to Dana, check out Chloe’s references?’ A speculative gleam flicked briefly in his mate’s eyes. ‘Couldn’t hurt.’

Frowning, Jordan studied him more closely. ‘What do—?’

‘What are you two looking so serious about?’ Zahira appeared as if summoned by the couple’s earlier exchange of glances and laid a hand on Sadiq’s arm. ‘This is no time for business talk—we’ve got a home-made party cake coming up. Tamara helped bake it and she’s been looking forward to lighting the candles for weeks.’ She looked about. ‘I haven’t seen her in a while. Do you know where she is?’

‘I saw her heading in the direction of the cubby house with Chloe in tow,’ Jordan said. He’d been watching Chloe all afternoon; he’d known exactly where she was at any given moment. He immediately turned in that direction. ‘You two go ahead. I’ll tell her she’s been summoned.’

The little door was open and Tamara was still for once, utterly focused. They were cross-legged on the floor, facing each other, and Chloe was telling Tamara a story.

Jordan stilled too, equally intrigued, watching the way Chloe’s small, slender hands moved as she talked. Listening to the vitality in her voice. Her flyaway hair was too messy for his taste, her eyes incongruously big in her small pixie face. But she could spin an adventure story out of thin air and make it sound believable. She could charm any age group. She could conquer high balconies and risky ropes at a moment’s notice …

An impossible idea was coalescing at the back of his mind. Now the flicker of expression in Sadiq’s eyes made some sort of sense. Didn’t it?

Attraction aside, she wasn’t the usual acquiescent kind of woman he dated, just as he very much doubted he was her type of guy—if she had a type. According to her, she didn’t stay long in any one place so she’d probably never formed any close attachments. And that had to be an advantage because they could walk away at the end, no complications …

He smiled to himself. Not such an impossible idea. Chloe Montgomery might just be the up-for-anything kind of girl he needed.

CHAPTER FOUR

‘… AND THE PRINCESS—’

‘Princess Chloe,’ Tamara corrected.

‘Not Princess Tamara?’

‘It has to be Chloe ‘cos it’s your story,’ Tamara said, then took her crown off, reached across and set it on Chloe’s head. ‘And you have to wear this.’

‘Oh. Thank you.’

Jordan relaxed against the cubby’s frame even as his mind raced ahead with possibilities and potential problems.