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‘That is incredible.’
Sadness touched him now—at the knowledge that it was possible to grow old together, to marry young but make it through. But not for him. He knew that now. Because he was governed by an ambition that took precedence over everything and everyone—even now, when he had achieved so much, he wanted more. To grow the business, make it global, show everyone that he was the best. That was his priority, and he knew any relationship couldn’t compete.
‘I’m sorry.’ Her voice was soft. ‘I didn’t mean to remind you of the chance you lost.’ She hesitated. ‘I asked Gran once whether if Gramps had died younger there could have been anyone else.’
‘What did she say?’
‘She said yes. She said that even now, aged ninety, she wouldn’t ever discount the chance to love. She said that it would have been a different love, because it would have been with a different person, but that love is always worth having. That if she had gone first she would have wanted Gramps to be happy and would have hoped he’d find love again.’
‘I understand that. For me, though, I am truly happier on my own. Not because I disagree with your gran, but because I am a different person now and a relationship is no longer what I want.’
‘For ever? What about children? The way you spoke about Freddy and Heidi... You clearly love them.’
‘I do. But that doesn’t make me good father material.’
That was an absolute. Claudia had wanted children but Zander had prevaricated. Had put his business ambitions first. With the result that Claudia had missed out on motherhood.
‘I am a self-confessed workaholic. There’s no point having a family you never see.’
Time to shift focus away from him; this wasn’t a discussion he wanted to get into.
‘What about you? Do you want the whole package? Mr Right and 2.4 kids? With a white picket fence thrown in?’
‘Yes. I do want children. But only with Mr Right. I know there is no guarantee of either, but that’s my aim. If I have children I want to believe I can give them everything. Security, love, a brilliant dad and a stable family life.’
Further evidence, if any were needed, that he and Gabby were poles apart in their life goals.
Gabby blinked, picked up her pen and clicked the end. ‘We seem to have got distracted.’
Zander shook his head. ‘Not really. If we were really having a fun fling, we would have discussed all this. To make sure neither of us had false expectations of the other. I’d need you to know I’m not your Mr Right.’
‘I think I’d have figured that out by now. So, now we need to convince everyone that we are Mr and Ms Right for Now but Not Right for Ever.’ A smile curved her lips. ‘It’s not very catchy, is it?’
His gaze snagged on her mouth and he forced himself to focus on his coffee. He sipped it and almost welcomed the bitter coldness of the dregs. ‘So what next?’
‘I need to look the part. I have no idea what fun flings wear.’
‘I don’t think there is a dress code.’ Seeing her hazel eyes cloud in g
enuine worry, he was aware that he wanted that smile back and clicked his fingers. ‘I’ve got it! Get that bunny suit back and we’re set. I’ll even wear a matching pink bow tie and socks.’
Her eyes widened and he gave a sudden crack of laughter. ‘If you could see your face! I’m not serious.’
‘Thank goodness. But could you imagine it?’ There was a moment of contemplation and then she gave a small, delicious gurgle of laughter. ‘You could go for matching bunny ears. That would convince your family you’d gone bonkers.’
He had a sudden vision of his family’s bemused expressions and joined in her laughter. When was the last time he’d laughed like this? Dammit—he couldn’t remember.
Eventually she subsided, and worry shadowed those hazel eyes again. ‘Seriously, though, I don’t want to look wrong.’
‘You won’t.’ And he meant it. Sitting opposite him, her make-up-free face touched by sunshine and laughter, her glossy chestnut hair gleaming and dappled, she looked beautiful. ‘Whatever you wear you’ll be...’ Beautiful. ‘Fine.’
‘It’s not that simple. I don’t want to stand out... I—’ Breaking off, she shook her head. ‘Don’t worry. This isn’t your problem. I’ll do some research and figure out how to fit in.’ Deep breath. ‘But it’s not just about clothes. It’s about how we act around each other. Should we be lovey-dovey? Hold hands and gaze at each other in adoration? Or opt for smouldering?’
Momentary panic touched him—a sudden realisation of what he had got himself into—and he could see the echo of anxiety cloud her eyes. The thought of love and adoration, even of the counterfeit variety, made him cringe. But it was too late for reservations now—the whole point of this charade was that it had to carry conviction.
‘Option three is our best bet, I think. This is all about attraction.’
Now the clouds in her eyes stormed. ‘You make it sound so easy. It isn’t. When we walk on to this yacht peopled by celebrities and your family, no one will believe this. I could smoulder all I want—all that will happen is my dress will scorch. No one is going to buy this.’
