Billionaire's Wife On Paper (Conveniently Wed!) Page 8

  ‘I guess a lot of kids would think like that but surely you realise it wasn’t anything to do with you or Robbie?’

  He shifted the base of his wineglass a quarter-turn. ‘It took me years to realise it wasn’t us. It was her. She didn’t have the capacity to bond. I heard she’s been married three or four times since then.’ He paused for a moment before adding, ‘It was harder on Robbie. He was only four and missed her badly. He cried for weeks, months really. I did what I could to compensate but it wasn’t enough—nowhere near enough. He needed his mother and no one else was going to fill the hole she left behind. Not even our father, who was struggling himself to cope.’

  A frown pulled at her brow. ‘You can’t possibly blame yourself for Robbie’s problems. You were left by your mother too and you didn’t go off the rails.’

  Logan gave her a grim look. ‘I do blame myself. I was too lenient with him then and after our father died. Robbie was only fourteen and full of raging hormones and risk-taking behaviour, which was part puberty and part acting out his grief. My grandfather was too controlling with him and I tried to make up for it in other ways. It was a mistake to swing back too far the other way. I should’ve tried a more balanced approach.’ He made a self-deprecating sound and added, ‘I’m definitely not cut out for parenthood. Not with all the mistakes I’ve made with my brother.’

  Layla leaned forward in her chair, her expression etched with concern. ‘Logan, you’re not to blame. I think you’ve been an amazing older brother. And you would make an amazing father. Robbie hasn’t made great choices along the way but you’ve done nothing but support him and encourage him to make better ones. Even the way you’ve put your own life on hold to save Bellbrae is proof of that. It’s not just your heritage that would’ve been lost but his as well. I know how your mind works—by marrying me you’re ultimately protecting him from the shame of losing his family’s ancestral home in a poker game.’ She picked up her wineglass and sat back in her chair. ‘And I admire you for it.’

  Logan gave a twisted smile. ‘Let’s hope you still admire me after you’ve lived with me for a year.’

  Something passed over her features—a shadow in her quickly averted gaze, the flicker of a tiny muscle near her cheek, a flattening of her mouth. ‘That works both ways.’ Her voice dropped half a semitone in pitch. ‘Let’s hope we remain friends.’

  Logan raised his glass in a toast. ‘To staying friends.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  LATER THAT NIGHT back at the villa after dinner, Layla joined Logan for a nightcap in the sitting room before going to bed. She found herself reluctant to allow the evening to end. She had learned so much about Logan over dinner—what motivated him, what drove him, what tortured him. She had revealed things about herself too, and hadn’t felt as uncomfortable about doing so as she’d thought she would. There were still some things she didn’t feel comfortable revealing—she couldn’t imagine a time when she ever would. To anyone.

  ‘Here we go,’ Logan said, handing her a small glass with Cointreau on ice. ‘One nightcap.’

  ‘I really don’t need any more alcohol,’ Layla said. ‘But since this is kind of a holiday...’

  One side of his mouth tipped up in a half-smile. ‘I bet you haven’t had one of those in a while.’

  ‘Like you can talk, Mr Workaholic.’ Layla took a sip of her drink, giving him a wry look over the rim of her glass.

  He sat on the sofa opposite hers and crossed one ankle over his other knee, one arm draped over the back of the sofa, the other holding his brandy and dry. ‘Yes, well, I’ve never been much good at relaxing.’ He took a sip of his drink, held it in his mouth for a brief moment before swallowing.

  Layla kicked off her shoes and tucked her good leg underneath her, making sure her scars on her other leg were covered by her pantsuit trousers. ‘When was your last holiday?’

  A small frown carved into his forehead and he stared at the contents of his glass. ‘I sometimes take an afternoon off when I’m away on a project.’

  ‘An afternoon?’ Layla snorted. ‘Even I’ve managed better than that. I had a couple of weekends off in a row three months back.’

  His lazy half-smile was back and it made something in her stomach slip. ‘Go, you.’ His voice was low and husky, his sapphire-blue eyes as dark as a midnight sky. ‘Did you do anything special on those weekends off?’

  Layla gave a laugh. ‘Okay, you’ve got your gotcha moment. I did paperwork while I watched movies and ate pizza.’

  His gaze was unwavering, his smile mesmerising. ‘Looks like we both need lessons in how to relax.’

  There was a sudden change in the atmosphere and Layla was the first to look away. Or maybe it was where her mind was taking her—to long, sleepy, relaxing lie-ins after making love. Her head resting on Logan’s chest, his fingers playing with her hair, their legs entwined. That would be a good way to relax, surely? She sipped some more of her drink and hoped her cheeks weren’t looking as hot as they felt.

  ‘How about we stay on a few extras days here?’ Logan said. ‘We could explore some of the other islands. That is, if you can juggle your work commitments.’

  Layla kept looking at the ice cubes in her glass rather than meet his gaze. An extended holiday in Hawaii would surely involve wearing a swimsuit, swimming, being surrounded by beautiful unscarred bodies on the beach. She could hardly relax under those circumstances. She would be waiting in dread for the whispered comments, the sideways glances, the What happened to you? questions. She leaned forward to put her glass on the coaster on the table in front of her. ‘I don’t know... Don’t you have to check out your project in Tuscany?’

  ‘It can wait a few more days.’

  Layla could have used her work commitments as an excuse to get back to Scotland but the temptation to spend more time here with Logan was too hard to resist. She only had to send a couple of emails or make a few calls to make sure everything was ticking along efficiently with her cleaning business. She had some reliable staff who were more than capable of standing in for her. Why shouldn’t she relax and enjoy herself for once? ‘I guess it would be nice to see a bit more of Hawaii before we go home.’

  ‘I’ll make the arrangements.’

  Layla tried but failed to disguise a yawn. ‘Who knew eating and drinking could be so exhausting?’ She carefully unfolded her leg from beneath her and rose from the sofa. ‘I think I’ll turn in. Thanks for a lovely dinner and...everything.’

  He gave one of his rare smiles. ‘You’re welcome.’

  * * *

  Logan sat back and finished his drink once Layla had gone off to bed, wondering if he’d done the right thing in suggesting they extend their stay. He had originally planned to fly in and fly out once they were officially married. But he’d thought a few extra days might help both of them get used to their new circumstances before they went back to Bellbrae. Living together as man and wife, even on paper, was going to take some considerable adjustment, especially if they were to do it as authentically as they could by sharing the west tower suite. Besides, they were both hard workers who rarely took a break.

  But her initial reluctance to stay on for a few extra days made him wonder if it was not so much about spending time with him that troubled her but something else. The beach environment? Or maybe it was both. Not everyone enjoyed the beach, especially those with fair complexions like Layla, but he had seen her looking at other swimmers and sunbathers with a wistful look on her face.

  His memory snagged on something...a memory from way back to when she had been a young teenager, not long after she had come to live with his family. He seen her watching him swim on the loch at Bellbrae. He’d pretended not to notice as he hadn’t wanted to make her feel uncomfortable, but he’d been aware of her hiding in the shadows of the trees. When he’d brought his fiancée home, Layla had spied on them both. It had made Susannah annoyed but he’d forbidden her to
say anything to Layla. And thankfully she hadn’t. But he realised now he had never seen Layla swimming, not even in the indoor pool his grandfather had installed a few years ago after he’d had a hip replacement.

  If Logan did nothing else on their ‘honeymoon’ he would help her overcome her reluctance to wear a swimsuit. Although just thinking about her in a swimsuit was enough to make his imagination run wild and his blood run hot. And the last thing his imagination needed was any encouragement. His willpower was having enough trouble as it was.

  He had to remember—this wasn’t a real honeymoon and it wasn’t a real marriage.

  Neither could it ever become one.

  * * *

  The following morning Layla woke to bright sunshine pouring through the windows of her bedroom. Her bedroom. Not their bedroom. Her first night as a married woman and she had spent it alone.

  She heard sounds of Logan moving about in the suite outside her room and wondered if he too had found it odd to have spent their first night as a married couple in separate beds. Probably not. He was the one who had made the rules and was so determined to stick to them. And she had agreed to them, so why was she even mulling over their situation?

  It was a sensible plan to keep their emotions out of the arrangement. It was wise for both of them to refrain from developing feelings that demanded more permanency. Her dream of finding someone to love her was just that—a dream. A fanciful dream that had little hope of being realised. And that secret little smouldering coal inside her? It needed a bucket of ice-cold reality thrown over it.

  The fragrant smell of freshly brewed coffee tantalised Layla’s nostrils and she threw off the bedcovers and slipped on a bathrobe to cover her satin pyjama set. She came out to the dining area of the luxury villa to find a colourful fruit platter and fresh croissants and rolls with butter and preserves laid out ready for breakfast.

  Logan was pouring coffee into a cup and glanced up when she came in. ‘Ah, Sleeping Beauty awakes. Coffee? Or would you prefer tea?’

  ‘That coffee smells delicious,’ Layla said, thinking he looked and smelled pretty damn delicious too.

  His hair was still damp from a shower, his jaw was cleanly shaven and she could pick up a trace of the lemon and lime notes of his aftershave. He was dressed casually in white cotton shorts that set off the deep tan of his legs, his light blue T-shirt showcasing his well-toned chest. He looked rested, relaxed and ridiculously sexy, and her female hormones swooned.

  He handed her a cup of steaming coffee. ‘How did you sleep?’

  Layla took the cup from him and breathed in the delicious aroma. ‘Not bad...considering.’ She took a sip of coffee, conscious of his unwavering gaze.

  ‘Considering what?’ He leaned one hip against the counter, holding his cup by the base.

  Seemed she didn’t need alcohol to get her tongue out of control. Some inner demon was goading her to point out the weirdness of their situation. A honeymoon with separate bedrooms. If that wasn’t weird, what was? Layla put the cup down on the table and, pulling out a chair, sat and reached for a piece of golden pineapple. ‘Considering it was the first night of my honeymoon.’ She raised her fingers in air quotes over the word ‘honeymoon’, sending him an ironic look. ‘It’s not the way I imagined it as a child. Just saying...’

  A ripple of tension crossed his features like sand blown by a breeze. ‘You know my reasons for insisting our relationship stays on paper only.’ His tone was schoolmaster stern, his gaze determined. ‘I couldn’t have made it any clearer.’

  Layla took a bite of the juicy pineapple and chewed and swallowed. ‘Yes, you’ve made it perfectly clear. And I’m totally fine with it.’ Was she? Or was she just paying lip service? ‘But I can’t help wondering if it’s not me you’re trying to protect but yourself.’

  He placed his cup on the table with a thud and frowned. ‘Protect myself from what?’

  She kept her gaze trained on his. ‘From getting too close to someone. To feeling something for someone other than transient lust. You keep people at a distance. You’ve had plenty of casual lovers but you haven’t had a live-in lover since you lost Susannah.’

  He picked up the coffee pot and refilled his cup. ‘You seem to know a lot about my love life.’

  ‘But it’s not a love life, is it? It’s a lust life.’

  He gave a rough laugh that held not a shred of humour. ‘Works for me, sweetheart.’ He raised his cup to his mouth and took a mouthful of coffee.

  ‘It will work until one day it won’t,’ Layla said, picking up another piece of fruit—a wedge of pink watermelon this time—and placing it on her plate.

  Logan pulled out the chair opposite hers and sat down and placed his coffee cup on the table, his forehead creased in a frown. ‘Why is it so important to you how I live my life?’

  Layla found it hard to hold his gaze. ‘I’ve known you since I was a twelve-year-old kid. How could I not care about how you live your life?’

  He gave a brief movement of his lips that fell short of a smile. ‘I know you mean well, Layla, but, believe me, it’s best if you don’t care too much. Now, finish your breakfast. We have some serious sightseeing to do.’

  * * *

  Over the next couple of days Layla was left in no doubt about Logan’s skill as a tour guide. He organised a tour of Haleakala National Park, located on Maui’s inactive volcano, as well as visits to the Seven Sacred Pools of the Oheo Ravine and Makahika and Waimoko waterfalls. The lush rainforests with their towering, tumbling waterfalls were breathtaking, and Logan organised a private helicopter tour of the summit of the volcano, which gave stunning views over the crater and the whole island. He was sensitive without being patronising over the walks they took through the rainforest, and he always had a steadying hand at the ready if she gave any hint of losing her footing.

  In the evenings they dined out at various restaurants, chatting over the day’s sights, and then returned to the villa and retired to their separate quarters. It was clear Logan was doing everything he could to ensure their relationship remained platonic, but every now and again when he touched her as he helped her out of the car or took her hand over a rough part of a walk, her senses went into a frenzy.

  The morning after their trip to the volcano Layla joined Logan at breakfast but instead of a day of touring, he suggested they stay at the villa for the day.

  ‘It’s going to be quite warm today and I thought you might appreciate a quieter day, relaxing around the pool,’ he said, refilling her glass with fruit juice.

  Layla had been pointedly ignoring the sparkling blue infinity saltwater lap pool on the seaboard terrace. Just like she ignored the beautiful indoor pool Angus McLaughlin had installed at Bellbrae to help him recover from a hip replacement a few years ago. ‘I don’t really enjoy swimming that much,’ she said, picking up the glass of orange juice. ‘But I’m happy to watch you do laps.’ More than happy if she were to be perfectly honest. Hadn’t she found secret pleasure in watching him for years?

  Logan’s gaze searched hers. ‘Does it hurt your leg to swim?’

  ‘No, it’s just I...’ She lowered her gaze back to the frothy juice in her glass. ‘I’m a bit self-conscious about my scars.’

  And I feel weirdly grateful I have them instead of my parents.

  Of course she could never tell him. She couldn’t tell anyone. It was too shameful to admit out loud.

  ‘It will only be us here and you don’t need to be shy around me.’ His tone had a gentle note that ambushed her emotions. Could she do it? Could she reveal the marks on her body that signified the biggest turning point in her life?

  Layla brought her gaze back up to his. ‘It’s been a long time since I’ve been in the water.’

  Warmth shone in his eyes and his smile made her stomach do a somersault. ‘I’ll be there to help you.’

  * * *

  A short time l
ater Layla came out to the pool area dressed in her green swimming costume with her sarong wrapped around her body and her hair tied back in a high ponytail. Logan was already in the pool, doing laps, and she stood in the shade of the shrubbery, watching him carve through the water with effortless grace and efficiency. He performed fluid tumble turns at each end, the water glistening on his tanned back and shoulders.

  He stopped at the end closest to where she was standing and scraped his hair back away from his forehead. ‘Hang on—I’ll help you down the steps.’ He placed his hands on the edge of the pool and launched himself out in one athletic movement that showcased his powerful biceps. He held out his hand, an encouraging smile tilting his mouth. ‘You can do it, Layla. I won’t let you slip.’

  Wasn’t she already slipping? Slipping into the dangerous waters of developing feelings she had promised she wouldn’t feel. For anyone. How could she dare hope to be loved when even her own parents hadn’t truly loved her? Their first love had been their addictions. But the more time she spent with Logan, the deeper her feelings grew. How could they not? It was like asking a flower not to bloom under healing, restorative sunshine.

  Layla took a deep breath and let go of her sarong. It slipped to the pool deck at her feet, leaving her in nothing but the green costume. Her leg was criss-crossed with vivid white scars with dents where muscle had been grafted from her thigh to her calf. Her leg had been through a long hard battle to avoid being amputated and had only just won. And it showed.

  She waited for the look of distaste, for the screwed-up expression of horror she had seen too many times to count. But Logan didn’t show any of that. His eyes did an appraising scan of her body, lingering a little longer on the upthrust of her breasts and the cleavage its design highlighted, but there was no disgust in his gaze. There was desire. Desire that made her feel more of a woman than she had ever felt.