The Billionaire's Baby Chase

A pang shot through her. “They died some years ago, within months of each other. I haven’t been up that way in a long time.”

She couldn’t have been more than fourteen the last time she stayed with her grandparents, although she’d visited them often as an adult. The memory of walking through lush green rain forests and trying to carry on a conversation over the summer evening anthem of cicadas remained with her.

Was it because her grandparents’ house was the only real home she’d known as a child? Her parents had been botanists, well enough known in their respective fields, but genteelly impoverished. Most of their time had been spent out in the field while their only daughter was farmed out to relatives, since they couldn’t afford boarding-school fees.

After her father succumbed to a rare tropical disease on an expedition to South America, her mother had retired to the south coast of New South Wales, amid a jungle of a garden where she grew medicinal herbs.

By then mother and daughter were so estranged that Zoe couldn’t imagine living with her mother. Fortunately by then she was working as a nanny, living with her charge’s family, so the question never arose. Her mother wouldn’t have enjoyed an enforced family existence any more than Zoe herself would.

“And your husband?”

James’s voice snapped Zoe back to the present with a jolt, banishing the floodgate of memories opened by his mention of her childhood home. “My husband died two years ago in a car accident,” she said quietly.

She accepted James’s murmured condolences with a nod, not feeling inclined to explain to him that the only sorrow she felt on Andrew’s behalf was over his untimely death, not to any sense of loss of her own.

It had taken her months to stop feeling guilty because Andrew’s death had freed her from his obsessive jealousy. At first she had wondered what sort of woman she was, not to grieve for her husband, until Julie had reminded her sternly that Andrew himself had killed her love for him.

“I noticed the toys on your front lawn,” James went on. “How many children do you have?”

Surprise shot through her. Usually male clients weren’t the slightest bit interested in her domestic affairs once they established whether or not she was married. She told herself James was only making polite conversation.

She paid attention to the road. The turnoff to the Strathfield place wasn’t far. Then she became aware that James was regarding her steadily, awaiting her answer.

“I don’t have any children of my own,” she said flatly, wondering at the same time why she was telling him more than he probably wanted to know. “I have a foster daughter, Genie, who’s at playgroup this afternoon.”

He moved restively, his athletic body tensing against the restraining seat belt. Already regretting his interest in her family, she concluded. Well, he needn’t worry. She wasn’t about to drag out a sheaf of baby pictures.

His next comment caught her off guard. “I had a little girl of my own. They can be a source of great joy.”

His use of the past tense didn’t escape her. Had his child died? Her own all-consuming love for Genie made it easy to understand the anguish the loss of a child would mean. “Did something happen to her?” she asked gently.

Her sidelong glance caught the hardening of his jaw. “Yes, but it wasn’t some childhood ailment. That would have made some sense.”

Her knuckles whitened around the steering wheel. Oh, no, not a kidnapping. His prominence in the business world made the possibility frighteningly real. “Then what?”

“My wife decided our marriage wasn’t to her liking,” he said. “She took my daughter to another country and used an assumed name to make sure I couldn’t find them.”

The pain in his voice vibrated through Zoe. Although she and Andrew had never had a child, she could imagine her despair if he had done such an awful thing to her. She blinked hard. “Do you know where they are?”

Her peripheral vision caught his taut nod. “It’s taken me a long time, but I do now.”

He added no more details, leaving her to speculate that wherever his wife had gone, there was no chance he could retrieve his daughter. Otherwise, she suspected, he would move heaven and earth to do so.

“How old is your foster daughter?” he asked.

The strain in his voice tugged at her. Far from being a polite question, it suggested that he wanted to discuss her child, perhaps to distract himself from thinking of his own loss.

“She’s four and a half,” she said, obliging him. “She starts school in a few months. I don’t know how I’ll get through the days without her.”

“You and your husband never had children of your own?”

“It…didn’t work out for us. We had a few problems,” she added with difficulty. Even now it was hard to talk about her marriage, which had started so well until Andrew’s true character emerged. “Genie has more than made up. She’s an adorable child, full of mischief like most children her age, but so loving that I can’t stay annoyed with her for long.”

James folded his arms across his broad chest. “Does that mean you spoil her?”

She flashed him a wry smile before returning her attention to the road. “Is it possible to spoil a four-year-old? She doesn’t get everything her own way, but when it comes to loving her, I don’t believe you can go overboard, do you?”

His weight shifted on the seat bedside her, attracting her attention. In profile, his features were half in shadow. “Unfortunately I didn’t get the chance to find out.”

Horrified with herself, she fell silent. What was she thinking of, going on and on about the joys of parenthood when it only reminded him of his loss? He had started the conversation, she told herself, but she could have framed her answers with a little more sensitivity. With relief she sighted their turnoff. “We’re almost there.”

If he sensed her relief, he gave no indication. Nor did he take more than a cursory interest in his first sight of the mansion as the electronically operated gates swung open to admit them. Was he acting disinterested as a prelude to some hard bargaining? He had seemed far more animated when discussing their children than he did as they got out of the car and approached the house, their footsteps crunching on the freshly raked gravel driveway.

Apart from a caretaker who lived in a cottage on the grounds, the property was unoccupied. Her sense of unease returned. She put it down to the silence settling around them as soon as she switched off the engine. “Would you like to see the house or the grounds first?” she asked, unaccountably hoping he would choose to explore the garden.

“The house,” he decided. “There are six bedroom suites, I understand.”

Her unsettled feeling was probably due to the discussion about his missing daughter, she thought. Knowing how she would feel under the same circumstances was bound to affect her. She was thankful to be able to switch the conversation to the virtues of the mansion.

He responded in kind, asking shrewd questions about the house, its history and the land surrounding it. By the time she had shown him everything, over an hour had gone by. Apart from his questions, his demeanor gave her no clues as to whether or not she had a sale.

Somehow she also found herself talking more about her own life, she noticed. His questioning was so subtle that it wasn’t until the inspection was almost over that she realized they’d talked more about her than about the house.

“If you want to see the house again, I’ll be happy to arrange a second inspection,” she told him as they walked back to her car.

“There’s no need. I’ll take it.”

She could hardly believe her ears. A million-dollar property and he would take it, just like that? The commission from this one sale alone would take care of most of Genie’s needs for some time to come.

“You will?” she said, professionalism failing slightly as elation gripped her. “That’s great. I had a feeling it was right for you when you explained your company’s requirements.”

He nodded briskly. “The company will want to make some changes. Add a few more modern conveniences and more secure car parking, of course.”

“I’m authorized to discuss offers,” she assured him, mentally calculating the cost of the improvements he’d outlined. No doubt he would expect the final selling price to reflect them.

He named a figure only slightly below the asking price, which she had privately decided was above market value anyway. Evidently James agreed with her because his offer was exactly the one she would have made in his shoes. She was sure her clients would accept his offer without further negotiation.

At her car she swung around to face him. “I’ll call the vendors on the way back to my place. I’m sure your offer will be acceptable, so we can go to my office and get the preliminary paperwork under way this afternoon if you like.”

He braced an arm against the roof of her car, meeting her gaze with disturbing directness. A woman could drown in those blue pools, she thought. She had the uncanny sensation that he knew everything there was to know about her—every secret, every dark place. And found it intriguing.

She shook her head slightly to clear it. More fantasies, Zoe? What was the matter with her today? It must be the thrill of making such an important sale. She refused to believe her state of mind could be blamed on James’s effect on her.

His slightly lopsided smile warmed her. “Do you have the offer document with you?”

She nodded and drew it out of her portfolio. He barely glanced at the fine print before writing in the price they’d discussed and scrawling his signature at the bottom. It was as firm and bold as everything else about him, she noticed.

“There, you have my offer in writing,” he confirmed. “Everything else will be handled by my deputy, Brian Dengate, at my head office.”