The Secret Baby Revenge

“The butterfly tree,” Jules supplied. “It’s a great fantasy décor piece. The branches are made of driftwood and…”

Nicole panicked, afraid he was about to mention Zoe. “It’s a private thing, Jules,” she warned, her eyes stabbing the point home. “And you’re mistaken, Jade. Quin and I are not going off together. We were simply settling an old score between us.” She quickly turned to Quin and held out her hand. “Thank you. We do have everything settled, don’t we?”

He gripped hard, his eyes probing hers with nerve-tearing intensity. “Time will tell,” he said, the sense of threat behind his words warning Nicole she had better deliver her side of the deal.

She nodded. “I won’t keep you from your party any longer.”

His mouth curled into a sardonic little smile. “Nor I from yours.”

To her intense relief he said good night to Jade and Jules, taking his leave without another word. Which left her with the task of fending off their curiosity for the rest of the evening at the club. Fortunately they didn’t want to stay late as they had an important business meeting in the morning. By one o’clock Nicole had been driven home and she was seated at her computer, ready to transmit the necessary figures for Quin to rescue her mother from losing everything.

Her fingers hesitated over the keyboard.

She stared at the e-mail address on the card he’d given her.

This was the point of no return.

Total bankruptcy or twenty-six nights with Quin.

Her chest felt very tight.

Don’t think about it, she fiercely told herself.

Just do it.

CHAPTER FIVE

NICOLE tried to relax as the train carried her into the city centre for her rendezvous with Quin. The day had been loaded with stress—many phone-calls checking if the money had come through, confirming that all debts had been paid on time. Also, it had been impossible to avoid telling her mother how the miracle had come about since the two nights out a week had to be explained, especially since tonight was the first one. She needed her mother to look after Zoe.

The relief of having been saved from bankruptcy had quickly disintegrated into hand-wringing guilt over the deal Nicole had made with Quin Sola. “You would never have gone back to him but for me,” her mother had wailed.

“It’s only three months, Mum,” Nicole had argued. “It won’t kill me. In fact, it’s much more acceptable than having to lose this home and the dancing school.”

Which would have totally devastated her mother.

Nicole knew that her own qualifications, persistence and presentation would have eventually won a job somewhere in the finance world—a job with a big enough salary to support them. This would not have been the end for her. But these losses, on top of the loss of her beloved second husband, would have tipped her mother into a deeper depression, possibly paralysing her will to do anything. Perhaps now, some sense of responsibility for getting into this mess might pull her into plotting some positive course for her future with the dancing school.

The train arrived at Circular Quay and Nicole promptly disembarked. Quin’s e-mail had instructed her to meet him at a restaurant called Pier Twenty-One, situated on Benelong Point near the Opera House. She glanced at her watch as she started the walk past the ferry terminal. It was a few minutes short of eight o’clock, the nominated time.

She walked fast, not wanting to be late. Quin had kept his word. Keeping hers was essential. It was not only a matter of integrity, but pride, as well. She would not give Quin any cause to criticise her over the delivery of her side of the deal. He had paid out a phenomenal amount of money for his twenty-six nights.

Nevertheless, she had baulked at dressing up as though for a dinner date. There was no romance in this arrangement and she didn’t want Quin to think there could be in her mind. If he chose to spend his time with her eating in a restaurant—fine!—she would eat with him. No doubt they would eventually end up in bed together, which was what tonight was really about.

She’d decided to wear jeans, flat walking sandals and one of the filmy floral tops that were currently fashionable for teaming with jeans—day or night. She would wear the same things when she left him tomorrow morning. Her small overnight bag only held some toiletry articles and a change of underwear. As long as her mind was set on conducting this specifically limited affair on a completely practical basis, she should not get into an emotional tangle over it.

Quin’s table had a front row view of the passing parade of people; commuters catching a ferry home, tourists taking in the sights of arguably the most spectacular harbour in the world, theatre-goers heading for their choice of entertainment; concert, ballet, play, opera. The outdoors dining section of the restaurant extended out beyond the great marble colonnade that sheltered the many boutiques, bars and restaurants along the way to the huge Opera House forecourt. It was a fine summer evening, a fantastic setting, but Quin’s entire focus was fixed on watching for Nicole.

He had no doubt she would turn up at the appointed time and place, probably arriving at the quay early to ensure punctuality, and loitering somewhere nearby so as not to give him more of herself than she had to. Quin had no illusions about what had driven her to this deal—extreme duress over a financial situation, linked to a highly personal sense of payback for how he had conducted their previous relationship. It was the latter motivation that exercised his mind now. The money side of it was done.

He wanted sex with her and he would certainly have it, but his prime directive tonight was to challenge where she was coming from, sabotage her game-plan, make her play to his rules. She’d put a fire in his belly last night. The fight was on to get everything he wanted from Nicole Ashton and with twenty-six nights up his sleeve, Quin was confident of carrying out a siege that would eventually smash her defences and make her surrender all she was to him.

He’d had that once from her.

He wanted it again, free of the demons that had driven much of his life.

There she was!

Nothing hesitant about her approach.