The Husband She'd Never Met Page 16

  ‘But I’ll never be as sad as I was when I thought I’d lost you, Carrie.’

  ‘Oh, Max.’ Despite the warmth of his arms around her, Carrie shuddered. ‘I can’t believe I ever thought that was a good idea.’ Now she laid her head against his shoulder, touched her fingers to his jaw in a loving caress. ‘I guess it was lucky I lost my memory.’

  Max held her closer. ‘I’ll be giving thanks for that for the rest of my days.’

  EPILOGUE

  Two years later...

  ANOTHER MUSTER AT Riverslea Downs had come and gone. Carrie had been the camp cook, and she was really pleased with the meals she’d prepared on the camp fire. She’d produced stews and curries and golden syrup puddings, as well as the usual corned beef and damper. And there’d been plenty of praise from the visiting stockmen.

  It was good to be home again, though. So good to throw their stiff and dirty clothes into the laundry, and complete luxury to indulge in a long, hot and soapy bath and to cover herself in creamy moisturiser.

  Carrie emerged from the steamy bathroom feeling like a new woman, to find Max hovering in the hallway, excitement burning in his bright blue eyes.

  ‘I found a message from Sally on the phone,’ he said. ‘She’s still pregnant! She’s passed the three-month mark!’

  ‘Oh, my God!’

  Carrie stared at him in amazed disbelief. She’d thought of little else during the weeks they were away. It had been The Most Amazing Moment Ever when Max’s sister had visited them on her return from the UK and sat at their kitchen table, looking all serious and concerned, as she offered to be a surrogate mother for their baby.

  They’d been stunned at first, and then scared of the possible heartbreak, but finally so deeply grateful and elated.

  During the muster Carrie had been hoping like crazy that all would be well with Sally in Sydney—that their little frozen embryo had survived the all-important weeks after the transfer to Sally’s womb. But Carrie had also been terrified, and braced for disappointment.

  ‘Sally said to check my emails,’ Max said. ‘There’s an ultrasound picture, but I wanted to wait so we could see it together.’

  ‘Oh, Max!’ Carrie squealed, and hugged him—but she hugged him quickly, because they were both so eager to get to the computer.

  Together, they hurried to the office. Max had already downloaded his emails, and now he clicked on the attachment in the message from his sister.

  And there it was—a black and white image showing a tiny, perfect baby. Their tiny perfect baby. Curled up like a bean.

  Carrie had to dash the tears from her eyes. ‘Isn’t it beautiful?’ Her voice was all high-pitched and squeaky with emotion.

  Max was grinning. ‘It looks a bit like an alien.’

  She gave him a playful slap. ‘They all look like that.’

  ‘Yeah, I know.’

  ‘I wonder if it’s a boy or a girl,’ she whispered.

  ‘It doesn’t matter, does it?’

  ‘No, of course it doesn’t matter. And I don’t think I want to know until it’s born. It will add to the suspense and the excitement.’

  ‘Can we bear any more suspense and excitement?’

  Carrie turned quickly to see if Max looked worried, but he was grinning hard enough to make his face split. She threw her arms around him again, hugging him hard.

  ‘Can you believe it? Our own little baby by Christmas?’

  ‘I think it’s starting to sink in.’

  ‘Isn’t Sally the most wonderful sister ever? I hope her morning sickness isn’t too bad...’

  ‘Sal wouldn’t complain,’ Max said, with a hint of brotherly pride. ‘She’s a good sport.’

  ‘She’s amazing,’ Carrie agreed. ‘We should phone her and thank her again.’

  ‘We should,’ Max said. ‘Just as soon as I’ve kissed the most ravishing mother-to-be since the dawn of time.’

  Carrie widened her eyes in amused disbelief. ‘Since the dawn of time?’

  ‘In the southern hemisphere, then.’

  Carrie had experienced many happy moments in her husband’s arms, but she’d never been more elated than she was now as he drew her close and kissed her.

  When he released her, she sent him a cheeky smile. ‘Perhaps I’m the most ravishing mother-to-be on Riverslea Downs?’

  ‘No doubt about that,’ he said, and kissed her again.

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from HOLIDAY WITH THE MILLIONAIRE by Scarlet Wilson.

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  Holiday with the Millionaire

  by Scarlet Wilson

  CHAPTER ONE

  LARA TRIED TO hide her sniffles as the door opened and Addison’s chin nearly hit the perfect hardwood flooring.

  ‘Lara? What on earth...?’

  She didn’t wait for her to finish. Rain was dripping off the end of her nose and running down her back as she tried to bump her impossibly heavy case over the entranceway of the house. The case gave a squeak and one of the wheels catapulted merrily into the air, spinning off down the front steps and along the exclusive London street.

  She swallowed the impossible lump in her throat. It pretty much summed up her life right now.

  Addison pulled her by the elbow and slammed the door behind her. ‘What’s wrong? What’s happened?’

  Lara’s stomach coiled up. She hated this. She hated turning up like this. Even though she tried to hide it, she knew Addison was stressed enough without adding anything else into the mix. Her pretty face had been marred by a permanent frown for the last few months Lara had been acting as a nanny for her and her husband, Caleb.

  She took a deep breath. She was still in shock and the words just seemed to come out of nowhere. ‘I had a Sliding Doors moment,’ she breathed, before dissolving into tears.

  ‘A what?’ The frown was back. Addison had no idea what she was talking about.

  Lara shook her head, her blonde hair sending raindrops splattering all around them. ‘I went home earlier than he expected. I caught the earlier tube.’ Her voice wobbled.

  Addison took a deep breath and stood up a little taller. ‘And?’ She could be scary when she wanted to be.

  ‘And Josh was in bed with the next-door neighbour.’

  She wobbled and Addison caught hold of her elbow and steered her through to the kitchen. ‘I’m sorry, Addison. I know you’re just about to go on holiday but I had nowhere else to go. I just stuffed everything into my case and left.’

  Addison flicked the switch on the coffee machine. ‘That ratbag. How dare he? You’ve paid the rent on that flat for—how long? And he does this to you?’

  She opened the cupboard and pulled out two cups then sat down on the stool opposite Lara. ‘What are you going to do?’

  Lara hesitated. The timing was, oh, so wrong. ‘I’m sorry, Addison. I know you’re leaving in the next few hours. This is the last thing you need.’ It was the absolute last thing. Although to outsiders Addison and Caleb Connor had the perfect life, Lara could tell that things were strained. Their son, Tristan, was a dream to nanny, a happy, well-mannered little boy with the biggest smile
in the world. But things in the household were far from happy. Addison had been strangely silent these last few weeks, and Caleb’s presence had been virtually non-existent. Lara had the distinct impression this month-long holiday was make or break for the couple.

  She bit her lip. ‘I wondered...can I stay for the next couple of weeks? Just until I try and sort things out? I’ll need to find somewhere else to stay.’

  Addison didn’t hesitate. ‘Of course you can. No problem at all. Caleb and I will be gone in the next few hours. You can have the place to yourself and take some time to get sorted.’

  She pressed some buttons on the state-of-the-art coffee machine. She frowned at Lara, ‘Double shot?’

  Lara nodded. Addison pressed a few more buttons for the extra shot for Lara and decaf for herself and the steaming hot lattes appeared in seconds. She held up two syrup bottles. ‘Gingerbread or caramel?’

  ‘Vodka,’ Lara groaned. It might only be three o’clock in the afternoon but after the day she’d had she wanted to cut straight to the chase. She pointed over at the one in Addison’s left hand. ‘Caramel.’

  Addison poured a healthy amount of pure sugar syrup into the latte before adding the tiniest dash into her own.

  She looked Lara straight in the eye. ‘What are you going to do about your holiday?’

  The holiday. Of course. Lara pressed her head down on the counter worktop. ‘Oh, no.’

  Addison reached over and squeezed her hand. ‘You’ve been looking forward to this all year. Don’t let him spoil this for you. You deserve a holiday. You need a holiday. Spend the next two weeks sorting yourself out, then go and lie in the sun. Relax. Chill out.’

  ‘By myself?’ The holiday she’d been looking forward to for months had instantly lost its shine. There was something really wrong about going on a cruise on your own. Talk about awkward.

  Addison’s glare had a steely edge. ‘Yes, by yourself. Why not? You don’t need a man to determine who you are in this life. You’ve saved hard for that holiday. Go and enjoy it.’ She picked up her latte. ‘Now, I need to finish packing. Will you be okay?’

  Lara shifted on the stool. She really needed to get out of these rain-soaked clothes. Her stomach was churning. She could sense the tension in the air around Addison. It wasn’t like her to say something so direct. She usually kept all her cards played safely close to her chest. Still, it wasn’t her place to say anything. The line between employer and employee still existed and she shouldn’t cross it. Her only concern should be Tristan, and from all her observations he was a happy, healthy little boy. Whatever was going on between the adults was up to them to solve.

  She nodded her head in grateful relief. ‘I’m not right now, but I will be. Thanks, Addison. I promise I’ll take good care of the place.’

  ‘I know you will,’ Addison replied, with the quiet reassurance she always possessed. She paused for a second, ‘I won’t be able to call or email you. The place we’re going—it doesn’t have a phone line or internet.’ She paused and gave a sad kind of smile. ‘You’ll be fine, Lara. You don’t need him. He didn’t deserve you—not at all. It’s amazing how strong you can be on your own when you need to be.’ She held Lara’s gaze. ‘The world needs good people like you. Look after yourself.’ She gave a nod of her head and disappeared out into the hall.

  Lara sucked in a deep breath, looked around the immaculate show kitchen and put her head back on the counter.

  Two weeks to sort herself out. Perfect.

  * * *

  It was almost midnight. Reuben fumbled with the key in the lock yet again and swore under his breath.

  Maybe he shouldn’t have had that extra drink but his flight had been delayed six hours, jet-lag was kicking in and he’d decided to stop to try and get something to eat before he got back to the house.

  Only something to eat had turned into something to drink. The takeaway hadn’t looked too appetising and the pub across the road had stopped serving food at seven p.m. So he’d just had a drink. That had turned into another. And then another. Watching a football match in a pub had that effect. After five minutes everyone was your best friend.

  The key finally clicked into place and he shouldered the door open, falling over the front step and landing in a heap on the hardwood floor. The entrance hall was so big the noise echoed around him.

  He picked himself up and tried to feel his way along the wall, seeking a light switch. When was the last time he’d been in Caleb’s house? Must have been over a year ago—Addison wasn’t exactly welcoming. She didn’t seem to like her husband’s bad-boy friend.

  The light switch wasn’t beckoning. All he felt was the flat walls. His eyes tried to adjust to the dark. If he remembered correctly the kitchen was to the right and the living room to the left, looking out over the exclusive London street.

  He sighed and headed towards the living room. He’d collapse on the sofa and watch TV for a bit.

  He froze in mid-step. What was that? Was that a noise?

  He held his breath for a second. Caleb, Addison and their son should be on holiday. Caleb had said he could stay here for the next few weeks while his house was getting roof repairs. He tipped his head to the side and listened again.

  No. Nothing.

  He dumped his bag at his feet and walked over to the outline of the door to the living room and pushed it open. All he really wanted to do right now was sprawl out on the sofa.

  But everything was wrong. And the jet-lag meant that all the senses in his brain were firing in slow-mo.

  If he’d been firing on all cylinders he would have noticed immediately the glowing television on the wall, the sweet wrappers and wine bottle on the living-room table and the duvet on the sofa. His sofa.

  Instead, all he noticed was the flash in the corner of his eye and the thudding pain at the back of his head. As he made contact with the floor and looked upwards all he could see was something pink and fuzzy.

  Then everything went black.

  * * *

  She couldn’t breathe. There was a tight strap across her chest and her heart was thudding wildly in her ears.

  One minute she’d been lying half-dozing on the sofa, watching Saturday night TV, the next she’d heard footsteps walking across the entranceway. She’d gone into autopilot—years of watching too many TV shows—and picked up the nearest thing to hand. It was one of Caleb’s awards and it was currently lying broken on the floor next to the burglar in black.

  She picked up the phone and dialled the police. ‘Emergency services. Which service do you require?’

  ‘Police.’

  ‘Police, how can we help you?’

  ‘There’s a burglar. In my house. I’ve hit him.’

  ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Lara. Lara Callaway.’

  ‘Can you give me your address, Lara?’

  ‘Seventeen Crawford Square, Belgravia.’

  ‘Where is the suspect now, Lara?’

  She gulped. ‘At my feet.’ Police, she’d asked for the police. Maybe she should have asked for an ambulance?

  ‘Lara, what do you mean, the suspect is at your feet? Are you in any danger?’

  Her mouth was suddenly dry. Maybe she shouldn’t have drunk all that wine? ‘No. I don’t think so. He’s unconscious. I hit him.’

  The operator spoke slowly. ‘Without putting yourself in any danger, can I ask you to check that he’s breathing? I’m adding an ambulance to the dispatch call.’

  Lara bent her knees and squinted at the guy on the floor. He was lit only by the TV glowing on the far wall. His chest was rising and falling slowly.

  She took a deep breath. For a man who was breaking into people’s homes he was actually very handsome. He didn’t have that furtive, shady look about him. There was a hint of suntan under the shadow along his jawline
. He gave a little groan and she jumped back.

  ‘Yes, yes, he’s breathing. But I think he’s going to wake up.’

  ‘Lara, take yourself to a safe place. The police are on their way and will be at your address in under two minutes. Keep this phone with you. You can keep talking to me if you’re scared.’

  She backed off out of the room and headed to the front door. Her head was starting to throb. This was turning into a nightmare.

  Maybe this was her fault. This was a prestigious London address—of course they would be at risk of housebreaking. The house had a state-of-the-art alarm system—which she hadn’t put on yet. She would have done on her way to bed. She just hadn’t got that far yet.

  Something struck her as strange. How had the burglar got in? The front door was still closed. None of the windows seemed open. What if he’d damaged the house somewhere? Through the window the glow of blue lights in the distance made her breathe a sigh of relief.

  How was she going to explain this to Addison?

  * * *

  This was the worst jet-lag ever.

  ‘Sir, can you open your eyes for me, please?’

  And why was this bed so hard?

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘Yeow!’ Someone had nipped the soft flesh on his hand. He sat bolt upright, ignoring the pounding headache.

  Wow. He swayed. Dizzy. That was a new experience for him. He hadn’t been dizzy since that time he’d been knocked out while playing football ten years ago.

  Knocked out. He narrowed his gaze as the pieces started to fall into place. Two policemen. Two green-suited paramedics—one male, one female. And another female dressed in a pink fuzzy pyjama suit with her blonde hair in some kind of weird bundle on top of her head. She looked like some kind of giant kid’s toy.

  He lifted his hand to the back of his head and winced. ‘Someone want to tell me what on earth is going on here?’ He frowned and turned to face the pink teddy bear. ‘And who the hell are you?’

  The teddy-bear face looked indignant. He could tell she was trying to place his Irish accent, which got thicker the angrier he was. ‘Who am I? Who are you? You broke into my house!’