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He clearly wanted her to believe that money had been his only motivation, but she knew it was a lot more complicated than that. For despite his obvious wealth, he didn’t seem like a man who was motivated b
y money. He didn’t even like to shop, for goodness’ sake. Which meant that it hadn’t been the money, it had been what the money represented—the opportunity to escape—that had really been driving him. So why had he been so desperate to escape? And what had he been so desperate to escape from? So desperate that he’d been prepared to endure a loveless marriage.
He wanted her to believe he was shallow. An opportunist. But she knew from the other things he’d said about the web design business that had been his ticket out that he’d worked extremely hard to make it a success.
As a teenager, she’d conjured up lots of badboy fantasies about how all he really needed was someone to love him and support him. Someone like her. All of which had been ridiculous, and had had much more to do with her need to be needed than anything else.
But maybe there was a grain of truth in some of it. Because she could see now that surly disaffected boy hadn’t disappeared completely.
He walked back through the tables, carrying a tray laden with her latte and his espresso. With his shoulders slightly hunched and his dark hair falling carelessly across his brow, she suddenly had a vivid picture of him at seventeen, the day he’d come into school with a vicious cut across his brow and a black eye. Everyone had assumed he’d been in a fight.
The rush of tenderness made her stomach lighten and an idea formed in her mind. A wonderful idea that she should have thought of sooner.
‘You didn’t finish your sandwich,’ he said as he placed the coffees on the table.
‘I know.’ She grasped her handbag, slung it over her shoulder, then took a quick burning sip of the latte. ‘I hate to eat and run, but I have to dash. I should take this haul back to my flat and wrap them. My best friend Nessa’s doing Christmas lunch tomorrow and everyone will be there.’
He sipped his espresso. ‘All right, I’ll see you at the hotel later.’ It wasn’t a question, but she could see the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes and the tenderness wrapped around her heart, warming her more than the latte.
‘You want a hand getting all that loot into a cab?’ he asked as she gathered up the array of different bags, struggling to hold them all.
‘I’ve got them. I’m an expert at this, remember.’ Leaning over him, she gave him a quick kiss.
His hand settled on her waist, and he tugged her closer, turning the kiss from quick to burning in a heartbeat. ‘Don’t be too long,’ he said when he let her go.
As she dashed off past the displays of Japanese noodles and exclusive French wine she could feel him watching her, and a wide grin spread across her face.
Jace Ryan was going to celebrate Christmas this year. Whether he had planned to or not. Because it was way past time he discovered how much he had been missing.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
‘MERRY Christmas, Mr Ryan,’ Cassie murmured as she settled onto Jace’s lap.
His arms came around her waist and he gave her a hard hug. ‘Same goes, Ms Fitzgerald.’ He nuzzled her neck, and she felt her pulse leap. They’d just had a leisurely bath together and demolished a huge cooked breakfast. ‘What time do you have to be at your friend’s house?’ he asked.
She drew back. ‘Not for a while.’
‘Great!’ He shifted, stood up with her in his arms, but as he headed to the bedroom she wriggled down.
‘Not so fast,’ she said breathlessly, anticipation making her heart flutter in her chest. ‘I have a surprise for you. In honour of the season.’ She’d promised herself she wasn’t going to make a big deal of it. But she was still looking forward to seeing his reaction.
‘Oh, yeah.’ He sent her a suggestive grin and grabbed the tie on her robe. ‘That’s what I was hoping.’
She slapped his hand away playfully. ‘Not that sort of surprise. You really do have a one-track mind.’
‘Hey, from the way you jumped me in the whirlpool tub this morning, I’m certainly not the only one.’
She giggled at the mock irritation in his tone as she crossed to the huge spruce tree in the corner of the suite, and the stack of presents for her friends that she’d placed beneath it yesterday evening ready for her trip to Nessa’s.
Taking the brightly wrapped parcel and card perched on the top, she carried it back to him. ‘Merry Christmas, Jace,’ she said, presenting the gift.
Instead of taking it, he pushed his hands into the pockets of his robe, a puzzled frown creasing his brow. ‘What’s this?’ he asked.
‘It’s a Christmas present,’ she said brightly, holding it up. But his hands stayed buried in his pockets, the confused frown becoming more acute as he stared at the present, as if it were an unexploded bomb.
‘But I told you, I don’t bother with Christmas presents,’ he said, his eyes lifting to hers.
She lowered the present, the flutter in her chest turning to a deep pounding beat as she registered the expression on his face. She’d expected him to be surprised. But she’d persuaded herself that the decision to buy the present was simply to thank him for giving her back that part of herself she’d lost. She had to admit now, though, that the decision had also been a little bit of a ploy to jolt him out of his cynicism about Christmas. What she hadn’t expected, however, was the dazed shock in his eyes. Seemed she’d given him a bit more than a jolt.
