Velvet Promise

When she had first met this man she had been a wide-eyed innocent with flyaway blonde hair and only a gauche charm at best, but the years of being Mrs Russell Stewart had at least enabled her to attain a veneer of sophistication, to wear only the best clothes, to have her hair styled in such a way it wouldn’t dare be flyaway. Yes, over the years she had at least taken on a surface self-confidence; it was only when she was confronted with Russell’s family that it began to crumble and leave her as vulnerably open as she had been at seventeen.

Jordan relaxed back in his chair, waving aside the waiter’s suggestion that he join Willow for coffee; the dark suit he wore was tailored to the raw masculinity of his body, a brown tie knotted neatly at the throat of his cream shirt. The darkness of his hair was lightly sprinkled with grey at his temples on closer inspection, reminding Willow that he had recently entered his thirty-eighth year. Although he had never looked young to her, and Russell had often taunted that Jordan had been born old.

Orphaned at only five years old, Jordan had been taken into the home of his father’s sister, Simone Stewart, and her husband David, and he and Russell had been brought up as brothers. The sibling rivalry Russell felt for his cousin didn’t seem to be echoed by this self-contained man.

‘However,’ he added softly, ‘beautiful women do not always make the best mothers. They have so many other—interests.’ He met her gaze blandly as the force of his insult made her gasp.

From the moment they had first met just over five years ago Willow couldn’t remember one occasion when this man had gone out of his way to be polite to her. He had seemed to take an instant dislike to her, had only tolerated her at all because she was Russell’s wife. But along with her maturity had come the belief that she was as good as—if not better!—than any member of this family, including the haughty man looking at her so coldly.

‘No more so than any other single parent,’ she bit out tautly.

He shrugged broad shoulders. ‘Most single parents don’t have the wealth that you do and yet still choose to go out to work,’ he drawled contemptuously. ‘How is your business?’

Willow felt her temper rising, knew that her eyes must be flashing like emeralds, natural colour highlighting her normally pale cheeks. ‘Business is fine,’ she snapped. ‘And I don’t go out to work at all; I do all my designing at home.’

‘And who takes care of the shops you’ve opened as outlets for your designs?’

She shouldn’t really be surprised that Jordan knew so much about her; Dani might only be a girl, and not the male heir the family had been hoping for, but she was the only grandchild the Stewarts had, and she had been put in Willow’s custody. Even from the distance of Jersey the family would keep an eye on Dani, and, in doing so, a little on Willow too.

‘I only have one in London, another in New York, and the latest one here in Jersey,’ she dismissed tightly. ‘And each of them is run by completely competent managers. If you’re trying to accuse me of being a negligent mother then I think you should try again,’ she challenged with resentment.

He raised dark brows over those velvety soft eyes. ‘You don’t think plying a four-year-old with wine at…’ he glanced at the plain gold watch on his wrist, ‘nine o’clock at night is negligent?’

She hadn’t been plying Dani with anything, but she wasn’t about to defend her action to this man; she no longer had to explain anything to him or any other member of this family. ‘Which bothers you the most, the wine or the lateness of the hour?’ she taunted.

‘Both!’ he grated harshly.

She gave an impatient sigh and picked up her clutch bag. ‘Dani doesn’t exactly look or act like a deprived child.’ She stood up, nodding her thanks to the waiter who had served her her meal, before walking out of the dining-room, tall and slender, the aquamarine of the gown she had designed herself a perfect foil for her straight drop of silver shoulder-length hair, its very simplicity of style giving it a colour and texture that had been lacking when it hung in a straight swathe to her waist. Besides, that other style had given her the look of Alice in Wonderland, and with the birth of her daughter she had become very much a woman.

She had reached the bottom of the elegantly curved staircase before she felt the firm grasp of steady fingers on her wrist. From her advantage of already being two stairs up she turned and found herself on an eye-level with Jordan for the first time, the effect of those warm brown eyes even more devastating. Her breath caught in her throat as she felt the first stirrings of feminine interest in a man she had known for a long time. A very long time.

Her initial reaction to that interest was panic, and she pulled her hand out of his grasp as his eyes narrowed at the action. ‘I’ve arranged to take Dani over to see her grandparents tomorrow afternoon,’ she told him forcefully. ‘I really don’t see the reason for your visit here tonight.’ Except to upset her. And he had done that!

He thrust his hands into the pockets of his trousers, pulling the material taut across his thighs. ‘I was asked by Simone and David to see if you wouldn’t reconsider staying with them instead of at this hotel,’ he drawled. ‘They only live half a mile away!’

After her divorce from Russell last year Willow had agreed that Simone and David should see their grandchild whenever it was possible for them to do so, and this business trip of hers to Jersey to check on her newest shop had seemed an ideal way for them to do that without causing too much upheaval in Dani’s life. But when she had moved out of the Stewart home three years ago she had vowed to herself never to stay there again. She didn’t intend to break that vow.

‘The hotel is more convenient——’

‘Than a luxury villa where you and Dani could have your own suite of rooms?’ Jordan scorned.

That luxury villa had been her prison for eighteen months, with frequent visits from her goaler! ‘We have our own suite of rooms here, Jordan,’ she dismissed coolly, stepping aside to allow another couple who had just left the dining-room to ascend the stairs.

Jordan looked irritated by even that casual interruption. ‘Let’s go for a walk outside where we can’t be overheard,’ he suggested tersely.

‘I have to go up to Dani,’ she reminded him, shaking her head.

‘Can’t the renowned Miss Gibbons take care of her?’ he taunted. ‘I thought that was what you employed a nanny for!’

Willow’s mouth firmed. ‘Dani will be waiting for me to tuck her in, as I always do.’

He gave a mocking inclination of his head. ‘In that case I’ll get myself a drink from the bar and wait outside for you.’

Willow glanced outside. On this late September night the sky was beautifully moonlit, adorned with a million stars that twinkled and blinked as a warm breeze blew off the sea. It was a night made for lovers to stroll along the golden beaches hand in hand. There had been many evenings like this when she had lived here so briefly, but she had never shared any of them with a lover. And somehow she didn’t think walking on a moonlit beach with bare feet had ever occurred to Jordan!

She nodded coolly. ‘If that’s what you would like to do. I’ll be several minutes,’ she warned. ‘I always read Dani a story last thing at night.’

‘Aren’t you overdoing the devoted mother act?’ Jordan drawled in a bored voice.

‘I am a devoted mother,’ she bit out. ‘Dani and I both look forward to this special time of night.’

‘I’m surprised a busy lady like you can spare the time,’ he derided.

‘Jordan——’

‘I’m sorry,’ he drawled without any real regret. ‘Be as long as you want with Dani; I’m not going anywhere but outside.’

Willow turned and walked away from him, deeply resenting his implication that Dani came anywhere but first in her life. She did work hard, she admitted that, this latest shop of her exclusive designs appealing to both the wealthy residents and visitors on this charming little island and proving more successful than she had ever envisaged. But her career in fashion designing hadn’t succeeded at Dani’s loss; she spent every available moment she could with her daughter. And if Jordan St James had known anything about her other than the black and white reports he obviously received on her he would have known that. But he didn’t really know her, or about the things that had happened in her life to make her a woman of strength and character, a woman who at only twenty-three was one of England’s most successful fashion designers while still managing to be what she loved best of all, an attentive and loving mother to Dani.

‘Feeling better now?’ she asked Barbara after letting herself into the suite.

‘Much,’ the other woman nodded. ‘Jordan St James?’ she sympathised as Willow still looked pale from her encounter with the man.

‘Yes,’ she grimaced, putting her bag down on a table. ‘Dani in bed?’

The other woman nodded; a quiet capable woman of thirty-five, she had helped care for Dani the last three years. ‘She’s tired out,’ she said indulgently, ‘but she’s determined to hear her story.’

Willow smiled at that, knowing from experience that no matter how tired her daughter was she wouldn’t surrender to sleep until she had heard one of her favourite stories, and it was no good trying to cut the story short so that she got to sleep quicker; Dani knew them all word for word! Not that Willow minded; it was a time of day they both treasured, a few minutes of peace and tranquillity after the events of the day.

Dani sat up in bed as soon as Willow entered the bedroom. She was small for her age but the fragility of her appearance was not matched by the exuberant way she approached life, her eyes permanently agleam with mischief.

Willow sat on the side of the bed to hug her, laughing as the small arms clung about her neck, Dani collapsing in a fit of giggles as Willow tickled her to attain freedom. It was a game they played every night, but neither of them ceased to be amused by it.

Dani sobered as she settled back against the pillows. ‘That man downstairs——’

‘Uncle Jordan,’ Willow put in quietly, having no idea if he would welcome or disapprove of the title when he wasn’t really an uncle but a second cousin.

‘Mm,’ her daughter nodded. ‘Did I know him when I was a baby?’

Dani was going through the stage of being fascinated by the fact that she had once been as small as the babies she saw in their prams when they took walks in the park near their home. ‘A little,’ Willow confirmed with a frown. ‘Although I don’t think Uncle Jordan is all that comfortable with little babies.’ She knew she was being kind, that Jordan had barely glanced at Dani until she was a year old and had been able to trample over his feet to get where she wanted to go!

‘He seems to like me now,’ Dani said consideringly. ‘Does he live with Grandma and Grandad?’

Willow shook her head. ‘He has his own villa a short distance away from theirs.’

‘But——’

‘Story-time, young lady,’ Willow put in firmly as Dani’s lids drooped tiredly in spite of her interest in her newly realised uncle. ‘We can talk about Uncle Jordan again tomorrow.’