Josie watched the door close behind him, and shivered. She snuggled back down in the bed, pulling the sheet firmly around her. She was dog-tired, but sleep eluded her. She burned with frustration and anger—at herself as well as Conan. She buried her head in the pillow, but the lingering scent of Conan tormented her senses, and restlessly she rolled on her back to stare with sightless eyes at the ceiling.

In the long, lonely hours before dawn she finally faced up to herself, and she did not like what she saw.

How could she have behaved with such wanton abandon? She did not know. The only thing she was sure of was her shameless desire to have Conan back in her bed, to finish what he had started. If that made her wanton, then she was. And Conan—what of his feelings? He had been right when he had accused her of encouraging him. She had...and she could not blame him for being furious when she had so abruptly stopped him, even though she wished she hadn’t.

He was a virile man who by his own admission had been too long without a woman. Obviously because his mistress, Angela, had been in America. Tonight Conan had spent the evening in the company of the woman he loved but for propriety’s sake he had had to watch Angela leave with her brother. It was not surprising he had made love to Josie. It must have been frustration at not being able to have his girlfriend; sheer lust.

Josie groaned, disgusted with herself, and finally admitted what her subconscious mind had known all along. She had been attracted to Conan from the first day she met him. The sophisticated stranger with the outrageous comment. But she had never expected to see him again and had quite happily gone out with Charles. How wrong she had been. But it was too late now for regrets.

Josie caught her breath, a slow, grim smile curving her mouth. There was one good thing to come out of this evening. She no longer doubted that what Conan had said about Charles was true, even if he had been trying to hurt her with his revelations.

Conan had inadvertently lifted the weight of guilt she had borne for ages, thinking Charles had loved her, and knowing if he had lived she could never have returned the feeling. The thought of Charles touching her again made her flesh creep. Secretly she had been relieved, after the shock of his death had worn off, that he never would.

She had willingly accepted Conan’s offer of marriage, sure she could handle a marriage of convenience for the benefit of her child, conceited enough to think she could live with a man like Conan and feel nothing. But during all these weeks living with him she had got to know the man beneath the expensive suits and, unfortunately for her, fallen

in love with him. The last man in the world who could ever love her in return. She had no illusions on that score.

Heavens! He had virtually caught her in bed with his half-brother—the father of her child...

Tonight Conan’s reaction had been that of any red-blooded male to a more than willing woman. Love did not enter into it. Conan was a-businessman; he-had quite simply made a deal with her—the Manor in exchange for giving his name to her unborn child.

No matter what happened in the future, the child she was carrying would always come between Conan and herself, an ever-present reminder. She had to face facts and get on with her life. From this moment on, Josie vowed, she would be strong. She linked her fingers over the soft mound of her stomach, fiercely protective of her unborn child. Her baby was innocent and deserved all her love, and she was going to make sure her child wanted for nothing.

Tomorrow she would go back home; it would be nice to see her father again. She had read somewhere that the first few months of pregnancy were the worst, with massive hormonal changes to the female body. Maybe she could blame her behaviour tonight on that, put the past firmly behind her, and begin to make a life for herself and her child that did not include Conan or any other man.

Conan had been good to her, helping her when she needed it, but now she could return the favour by getting out of his life and giving him a clear field with Angela, even though the thought of them together broke her heart. Her mind was made up. She would leave tomorrow when Conan was at work, and if the world saw her as a coward for running away, so be it. She knew it was for the best, and finally she fell into a restless sleep.

However, when Josie walked into the kitchen the next morning, a little after ten, she froze, and her plan flew out of the window. Conan was standing by the cooker, unaware of her presence. Why wasn’t he at the office? For a long moment she feasted her eyes on him. His broad back was clad in a soft grey sweater, his long legs clearly defined in snug-fitting faded denim jeans. Then he turned.

‘Josie. I expected you to sleep in this morning. Jeffrey has the morning off and I was about to bring you breakfast in bed,’ he said coolly, then grinned, taking in her rumpled appearance at a glance. The baggy, faded black tracksuit was comfortable but did nothing to enhance her femininity.

‘What are you doing here?’ she demanded, then nervously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as the smile left his face to be replaced with a hard-eyed stare.

‘I live here, remember?’ he prompted sarcastically.

‘But you should be at the office.’

He shrugged. ‘I’m the boss.’ His eyes narrowed on her face. ‘You look terrible—trouble sleeping, no doubt. Sit down before you fall down; I’ll get you a coffee.’

‘Thanks very much,’ she snapped, irked that he had known at a glance she had not slept properly all night, whereas he looked disgustingly fit. His black hair, slicked back, still damp from the shower, curled gently on the nape of his neck. It was obvious he’d had no bother sleeping.

‘Sarcasm does not become you, Josie. Do as you’re told and sit down,’ he commanded, and she did. Placing a steaming mug of coffee in front of her, he ordered, ‘Drink that and you’ll feel better.’

Josie grasped the mug in both hands, raised it to her lips and took a huge swallow, almost scalding her mouth in the process. She shot a wary look at Conan through the cover of her thick lashes. His back was half turned towards her as he deftly arranged scrambled eggs and toast on two plates. Suddenly her stomach turned over at the smell.

He swung around, a plate in each hand, and caught her watching him. She felt the shaming colour flood her face and hastily took another gulp of coffee. A plate of food appeared on the table in front of her. She was aware of him sliding into the seat opposite, but was incapable of lifting her head. It was worse, much worse than she had ever imagined. Last night had made her even more intensely aware of him, if that was possible.

‘Eat, Josie; you’ll feel a whole lot better. Then we’ll talk. I always think there’s nothing like a good breakfast for starting the day. Don’t you agree?’ he asked, and proceeded to tuck into the food on his plate with obvious pleasure.

‘Yes, I suppose so,’ Josie mumbled in reply and, lifting her fork, made herself eat. Every mouthful tasted like sawdust. His, ‘Then we’ll talk,’ had her nerves stretched to breaking point. She didn’t dare look at him, but kept her eyes fixed on the pine boards of the breakfast table.

‘You can look at me, Josie. I haven’t grown two horns and a tail since yesterday,’ he drawled mockingly.

She lifted her head; his golden-brown eyes were very bright. He knew exactly how embarrassed she was.

‘I didn’t think you had,’ she rejoined, sounding much more confident than she felt.

‘Good. Last night—’

Tags: Jacqueline Baird Billionaire Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net