The Price of a Wife

And a man like Luke Hawkton? the voice questioned ruthlessly. A man with a double dose of everything that made a man a man? Virile, magnetic, seductive, with a vigorous masculinity that was so powerful it was almost tangible? A man who had already stated that he would expect an heir as his right? How would a man like that view her searing defect?

She sat up slowly, wrapping her arms round her knees as she gazed blindly ahead. She had to stop doing this— resurrecting the fears and doubts and sense of failure that had almost crushed her thirteen years ago. They had no place in her life now. She could function exceptionally well in the world she had chosen and she was good at what she did; the fact that she was here after winning such a prize as the Night Hawk promotion proved it.

She had made a mistake in letting herself respond to Luke and doubled it when she'd let him become aware of the attraction he held for her. From now on she had to be aware of her weakness where he was concerned at every moment; that was where she had gone wrong before. She had trusted in her own strength, the resolve that had carried her for the last thirteen years, but all that didn't count where Luke was concerned.

For some reason he could cut through her defences with a single word, a glance, and she had to be on her guard every second she was around him. Because she wouldn't be able to bear him knowing the truth. That, above everything else she had gone through, would finish her.

The next day was another of brilliant sunshine, and when Josie awoke after what had virtually been one or two hours' sleep she stretched lazily under the pale green sheets as white sunlight poured into the room.

Her somnolent drowsiness ended abruptly as the events of the night before hit her mind and brought her bolt-upright in the big bed. Luke... Her heart began to thud and race and she forced herself to take several long, slow, deep, calming breaths before climbing out of bed and padding across to the bathroom.

It was still only half pas

t six in the morning, and breakfast wasn't until eight, but as she stood under the warm shower with her face raised to the silky flow of water she felt she would need all of that time to prepare herself for the moment when she would have to face him again. She groaned softly at the thought Those silver-grey eyes could be devastating at the best of times, and this—this was definitely not the best of times.

By the time she went down to breakfast, clothed in a short-sleeved coffee-coloured shirt and matching cotton skirt that ended two or three inches above her ankles, she had her nerves under control. Her hair was in a knot at the back of her head and secured with a clip from which not one curl dared escape, hear make-up was tasteful and chic, and the gold studs in her tiny ears and fine gold bracelet on her wrist all proclaimed the same thing. She was in charge of her life and her destiny; she knew exactly where she was going and what she wanted.

In short, she was in control. The fact that she felt like melted jelly inside didn't matter, she told herself tightly as she walked into the large breakfast room that Josephine directed her to. No one could see that.

'Good morning, Josie.' Luke's face was expressionless as he glanced up from his newspaper, his voice cool but pleasant. 'Punctual as always. Top Promotions really are fortunate to have such a paragon of virtue.'

She met his eyes then, forcing herself to begin the speech she had rehearsed the night through. Twenty-eight-year-old unattached businesswomen didn't usually bolt like startled rabbits if a member of the opposite sex kissed them; she knew that. She also knew that she could have put a stop to things going so far weeks ago, right back in Germany, but… But somehow she couldn't send the right signals where Luke was concerned. Bed turned to green with the lift of just one sardonic black eyebrow. So…she was partly to blame for this ridiculous situation, but it had to be dealt with right now, once and for all.

'Luke, last night was a mistake, and I think we need to discuss it,' she said quickly, before Josephine or Madame Marat appeared on the scene. 'If you feel it would be better if someone else from Top Promotions took over now I have no objection—'

'Josie—' The expressionless mask had lifted abruptly.

'No, please let me finish. We're two grown adults—'

He rose swiftly, cutting off her voice as he did so, and she raised her head as he moved to stand in front of her, peering down into her face with the strangest look on his.

'One of us is a grown adult,' he said softly, 'but I'm not quite sure what I am this morning. I should have been the one to clear the air and I should have apologised for my behaviour as soon as you walked in the room; it was inexcusable.'

She was too surprised to say anything. Whatever she had expected this morning it hadn't been this.

'But instead I retreated behind sarcasm, for which I must also apologise,' he continued. 'You did nothing wrong yesterday; the fault was mine and I have no wish that you should cease working on the Night Hawk project. The whole concept is yours and I want you to see it through to the end—the bitter end if necessary,' he added grimly.

As she stared up at him her heart gave a weird little jerk, the sense of confusion and agitation she always felt in his presence increasing tenfold. Why couldn't he be arrogant, contemptuous, cold—all the aspects of his character she had seen plenty of over the last few weeks? she asked herself. The biting mockery and cool derision that he put across so well she could have coped with, albeit painfully. She needed to keep the picture she had of him clear in her mind—that of ruthless tycoon and callous philanderer—but Luke Hawkton the man kept getting in the way here in his own little domain, where he seemed different somehow, more… human.

The panic increased and gave her voice a sharp, icy edge of self-protection. 'Very well. If you prefer me to see the project through to completion then of course I will. You are the boss, after all.'

There was a moment of complete and utter silence after she had dropped her eyes from his, her heart pounding so hard she felt physically nauseous, and then Josephine came bustling into the room with a trolley loaded with several covered dishes of hot food, a plate of freshly baked croissants, preserves, cold smoked ham, cheeses and a pot of steaming coffee.

Luke pulled out Josie's chair for her and she slid into it without speaking, knowing her cheeks were fiery and feeling as bad as if she had just slapped his face. Which, metaphorically speaking, she had, she admitted miserably. Dammit.

But she couldn't have done anything else. She had to hit this thing hard on the head, and if that involved making herself look like an ungracious, bad-tempered shrew then so be it. A man like Luke could have any woman he wanted; he wouldn't waste any more time on her after this. Which was exactly what she wanted… Wasn't it? Yes, Yes, yes, yes. The silent repetition was a valiant try but it failed miserably.

They ate breakfast in a silence Luke didn't even try to break, but as Josie forced down the last mouthful of her croissant, the hot dishes being quite beyond her with her stomach swirling in such an agony of apprehension, he suddenly spoke crisply into the charged atmosphere. 'The appointment with the caterers is at half past nine and the builders will be here at eleven to look at the site and your plans, so if you're ready…?'

'Yes, of course.' She wanted to put out her hand and touch him, to tell him that she appreciated what the apology had cost him in pride and dignity, but to do so would be to court disaster and she knew it.

The caterers' kitchens were immaculate and shining, their administration efficient and smooth and their expertise undeniable. After asking a few pertinent questions, to which she received the right replies, Josie settled down to working out the ins and outs of their requirements, and by the time she and Luke left, at exactly half past ten, she was more than satisfied that she had chosen well.

'You're very good at what you do, aren't you?' They were seated in Luke's low, powerful Aston Martin—she had learned that he had several different cars for virtually every occasion at the chateau—and travelling at some speed along the winding coastal road towards his estate.

'I could say the same about you,' she said lightly, without turning to look at him. He was dressed casually, in a black silk shirt and jeans, and she had felt weak all morning. The beautiful car didn't exactly detract from his image either, she thought silently, but then nothing would. He had it all.

'Yes, you could, but I was talking about you,' he said smoothly. 'Do you always check each detail yourself when you deal with a proposal?'