A week...she had been married a week today, but her wedding day seemed a lifetime away. The woman who had stood in the gardens of the Lakeview Hotel convinced it was the happiest day of her life was no more. A cynical smile twisted her lush lips. Love's young dream was just that—a dream. It had taken Jake to show her the truth.

She never saw him during the day, and dinner was pretty much a silent affair, or a battleground. Jake tried to make conversation but she replied with icy politeness, or with a bitter sarcasm that was totally alien to her usual sunny nature, until, finally exasperated with her, he retired to his study to work, and she retired to bed.

They shared a bed, but she was beginning to think it was for appearance's sake only, to prevent gossip among the staff. Once or twice she had awakened in the night to find his arm around her, but they had never made love since the morning after their disastrous wedding night. It was painful to have to admit, but she missed the intimacy.

She could see no clear end to the emotional mess she had made of her life unless she learnt to accept her marriage on Jake's terms. Probably thousands of couples lived in a love­less marriage for the sake of the children quite successfully. Would it be so bad?

Sighing, Charlie drained her cup of tea. It couldn't be any worse than what she had now, and it was her own fault. She could not forget the anger and hurt she felt, and it showed. Then there was her unborn child to think about—but wor­rying wasn't going to help either of them, and with another sigh she replaced the cup on the table and leant back in her chair. The silence had a therapeutic effect on her, and slowly she felt herself begin to relax, but that feeling did not last for long. A shadow fell across her face and she looked up to see Jake's tall frame leaning against a timber pillar of the pergola.

She was shocked. He came to bed late and was always gone when she woke up in the morning. But today was different—Jake was different, the cool control of the past week no longer evident. Instead his mouth was tight and she felt the vibration of his underlying anger across the space between them.

'Shouldn't you be out making millions?' she said sarcas­tically. 'Instead of disturbing my peace and quiet.'

'I'm flattered I disturb you, Charlotte, but don't worry, I am not stopping. I have no desire to spend any more time than I have to with a sulky, immature girl.' Then, surpris­ingly, in an uncontrolled gesture he ran a frustrated hand through his thick dark hair. 'What the hell is the matter with you?' he demanded harshly. 'This constant sniping that passes as conversation from you has to stop. Can't you lighten up occasionally, or don't you have a sense of hu­mour any more?'

'My sense of humour is still intact, thank you.' Anger was her only defence, but her words lacked their usual force. 'But after discovering on my wedding night that my hus­band did not love me but married me out of a desire for revenge and the child I am carrying, it is hardly surprising humour deserts me around you.'

'Love,' he sneered. 'Dio, you are great at throwing that word around like a talisman, but it seems a pretty poor emo­tion to me that can't forget the slightest misdeed. Not even a deed—a wayward thought is enough,' he added bitterly. 'Give me honor and respect any day.'

Taken aback by his outburst, Charlie tried to defend her­self. 'At least I believe in love.'

'You probably have to cling to the illusion with a father like yours, who had no honour or respect for women, mar­riage or anything else,' he said scathingly.

She went pale as his harsh words sliced into her and she linked her hands together on the table to stop them shaking as she recognized there was some truth in what Jake said. With the exception of herself, her father had respected no one, not even himself. He had drunk, smoked and drugged himself to death by the age of forty-six. She drew in a long shuddering breath, finally forced to accept that her dad had loved her in his own way, and that way had included ig­noring her for the first eleven years of her life and, if Jake was to be believed, lying about her to his lady friends. Not the perfect love she dreamed of, and maybe that was her problem—she had expected too much.

Jake bent over and grasped her chin so she was forced to look at him. 'You have told me countless times you love me, but what you really felt for me, cara mia, for the first time in your life, was a lust for sex.' His other hand curved around her breast. 'And you still do.'

'No.' Her voice faltered to a halt and her mouth ran dry. His dark, handsome face was so close she could feel the warmth of his breath on her skin, and she looked away quickly, but not fast enough to stop her stomach curling tightly, and her breast hardening beneath his hand.

Jake's wide mouth curved in a cynical smile and he straightened up. 'Who's lying now, Charlotte?' She went from white to red, and he laughed. 'Still blushing.'

'Oh, shut up.' Her frustration boiled over and she lifted her glass to throw it at him. He grasped her hand.

'That is more like the exuberant girl I first met.' He grinned, instead of the sulky silent shrew of the past week.' Dragging her to her feet, he added quietly, 'we could have a good life together, all three of us.' He slanted a glance at her stomach. 'With a bit of goodwill on both sides.'

She opened her mouth to say, never, and closed it again.

'Wise woman,' Jake murmured gruffly, and pulled her against his hard body. She saw her own need reflected in his dark eyes and relaxed as his mouth closed over hers in a kiss that was achingly tender. A whole week without the taste of his lips on hers was in her response, and when he finally released her she was left swaying and breathless.

'Your hair is a mess,' Jake commented as he brushed a lock of hair back behind her ear. 'But don't worry, we are dining out tonight, and my PA, Sophia, is waiting to meet you in the house. She has kindly offered to take you to town to shop, get your hair done, whatever you women do.'

Slipping his hand in his pocket, he held out a wad of money and a credit card in her name. 'Take this.'

'I don't need your money.'

'I know, and I will never forgive myself for once sug­gesting otherwise. So take it to save my soul.'

'That's a bit extreme,' Charlie said with a chuckle and took the money.

'There now, that didn't hurt.' Raising one hand, he lightly tapped her cheek. 'You have finally found your smile again, Charlotte. There is hope for us yet.' Grasping her hand, he led her back through the kitchen and into the hall.

Charlie took one look at the small elegant brunette wait­ing in the hall and felt terrible again. The woman was im­maculately clad in what was obviously a designer suit, and Charlie felt like a scruff in comparison in a simple yellow sundress. It didn't help that Jake smiled at the other woman and said something in Italian whereupon they both laughed, and then turned to look at her, still grinning.

'Charlotte, cara, this is Sophia, my right-hand woman, and I could not do without her.' Smiling down at the beau­tiful woman, he added, 'Sophia: my wife, Charlotte.'

Reluctantly Charlie moved forward and took the small hand the other woman held out to her. She said rather stiffly, 'How do you do?' and wondered just exactly how much Sophia did do for Jake. Did it include sharing his bed? But as the woman smiled at her Charlie was struck by the warmth and kindness in her eyes.

'I have to go,' Jake said. 'Tomas w

Tags: Jacqueline Baird Billionaire Romance
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