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Gloria took her literal y and gave a smiling nod. ‘He suggested the big stores, like Filene’s or Jordan Marsh. They al have baby departments. Mr

Adams says you are to buy anything you want. He wil arrange charging facilities.’

‘I see.’ Riona didn’t real y, but decided not to show her ignorance.

‘If you wish, I wil hold the baby while you have your breakfast.’ Gloria indicated the tray of coffee and freshly baked rol s.

Riona hesitated for a fraction, then handed Rory over. He made a little cry of protest, but was soon distracted by Gloria as she made funny faces.

Gloria was clearly experienced with babies, and, when they did go on the proposed shopping expedition, she proved indispensable. She knew the right stores for the things they needed, knew where they might change Rory’s nappy and where Riona might breast-feed him in comfort.

Without her encouragement, however, Riona might have spent a little less money. She might have gone for the medium-priced push-chair rather than

the best on the market. She might have resisted the little jump suits that cost a ridiculous amount for a scrap of material. She might have decided that a six-month-old baby didn’t need sophisticated babywalkers and cot toys and bouncers and a host of other goods. But it was too easy to say, ‘Charge it to the Adams account,’ to assistants happy to do so.

It was only when Stevens picked them up in the limousine, seemingly to take her to what he cal ed the Harcourt Adams building, that she actual y

looked through the credit slips she’d been handed. Then she realised she’d spent what seemed like a smal fortune in just a couple of hours. She wondered what Cameron would think: would he wonder perhaps if she’d real y been a fortune-hunter al along?

As they drove, Gloria pointed out landmarks of the city: Boston Common and the public garden of botanical interest, then the John Hancock Building, the tal est structure in New England, with sixty floors and covered with plate glass that reflected the sky and other buildings around. Riona stared up in near awe at the size of it, while Gloria explained that at the top was an observatory that offered a panoramic view of the city. They had left behind the older more historical Boston of Beacon Hil , with its elegant old houses and prestigious family names, and arrived in the stil expanding area of Back Bay, which boasted several skyscrapers and modern buildings of weird and wonderful design.

The Harcourt Adams building was, by some standards, quite modest. It boasted only twenty-five floors, and was built on symmetrical lines.

However, it was so far from the smal building firm Riona had visualised that she laughed at her naivety. Whatever he’d claimed last summer, Cameron would surely never have given up this family empire for the lairdship of Invergair.

While Gloria remained in the car with Rory, Stevens escorted Riona inside. She trailed behind him, as he marched up to the two elegantly suited

receptionists at the front desk and announced, ‘Miss Macleod to see Mr Cameron Adams.’

To their credit, the receptionists didn’t stare over long at Riona, just long enough for her to realise that, in her simple blue shirt and cotton skirt, she looked like neither family nor girlfriend nor business col eague. They quickly lowered raised eyebrows, masked any curiosity, and got on with the business of notifying Cameron of her presence.

After a brief exchange on the telephone, one of the receptionists informed Stevens, ‘Miss Macleod is to wait in the reception area. Mr Adams wil be down shortly.’

Stevens nodded at the information, then indicated to Riona the arrangement of plush chairs and coffee-tables in the large reception hal . Riona must have looked as awkward as she felt, hesitating over taking up any of the squashy leather armchairs, and Stevens impulsively offered, ‘Do you wish me to wait with you, miss?’

Riona shook her head, but softened the refusal with a smile. It was clear the family chauffeur had seen right through her. She might be a prospective bride to the son of the house, but she was just an ordinary Scottish girl, unused to servants and limousines and plush reception areas in multi-mil ion-pound businesses.

‘If the baby cries, could you bring him to me, please?’ she asked Stevens in a manner more polite than any of the family would use.

He responded with warmth, ‘Certainly, miss. I’l get Gloria to carry the little fel ow in,’ before departing with a reassuring smile.

Aware of the receptionists’ interest, Riona forced herself to sit on one of the leather armchairs and pick up one of the glossy magazines and try and look natural. She wondered if other girlfriends of Cameron, sleek long-legged brunettes or smal sophisticated redheads, had frequented the same chairs, waiting for him. She pul ed a face, then started as Cameron suddenly appeared before her. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing.’ She blushed slightly and covered her real thoughts by saying, ‘I was just thinking how important you must be, running this place.’

‘Not real y.’ Cameron shrugged in dismissal. ‘My father runs it. I’m merely an executive.’

‘But one day you’l run it,’ Riona persisted, wondering why he was playing down his position.

He shook his head. ‘It’s not a simple matter of succession.’

Riona frowned. ‘But if your father owns the company, then surely it’l be yours eventual y.’

‘My father owns thirty per cent of Harcourt Adams,’ Cameron corrected in even tones. ‘I own ten per cent, left to me by my grandfather. Barbara

holds another forty per cent of the stock. The rest is divided up among smal stockholders.’

‘I don’t understand,’ Riona admitted openly. ‘Why did your father give Barbara forty per cent of the company?’

‘He didn’t.’ Cameron smiled grimly at such an idea. ‘Barbara was a Harcourt before marriage. My grandfather and her father merged their

respective businesses about twenty-five years ago.’

‘Before your father married Barbara,’ Riona concluded without much tact.

Cameron agreed cynical y. ‘Quite. You might say their marriage consolidated the merger.’

Riona wondered what that meant exactly. Had the marriage been more a matter of expediency than romance?

Cameron seemed to confirm it, as he went on, ‘With control of the majority stockholding, my father secured the role of president when the older

generation were gone.’

Riona began to understand. With his second wife’s support, Charles Adams had wel over half of the shares in his pocket. But what about the

future? Could Cameron count on his stepmother’s support? Or, later, Melissa’s?

Yes, if he married her... The thought crept into Riona’s head, and refused to creep out again. It had to be the perfect match. Beautiful Melissa,

handsome Cameron, and eighty per cent of Harcourt Adams between them.

‘I suppose Melissa wil inherit her mother’s share,’ Riona asked without much subtlety.

Cameron’s eyes narrowed. ‘I imagine so, yes... And yes to what you’re thinking as wel .’

‘What I’m thinking?’ Riona feigned innocence, but not very wel .

‘That should I marry Melissa—’ he read her perfectly ‘—Harcourt Adams would be mine for the taking.’

Riona felt angry at being so transparent and snapped, ‘You said it, not me!’

‘Wel , you can forget it,’ he told her abruptly. ‘I’m marrying you, whether you like it or not.’

Riona didn’t. Not like this. He was marrying to give their son a name, and for no other reason. He was marrying her, when, in al likelihood, he would prefer to be marrying his beautiful stepsister. For a marriage of convenience, it didn’t seem very convenient at al .

‘Don’t you want al this?’ She looked round the plush reception hal , a symbol of the Harcourt Adams Corporation’s success and importance.

‘You mean power, prestige, wealth... Should I?’ he countered enigmatical y.

‘I...’ Riona looked at him, not knowing the answer, suddenly aware she didn’t real y know the man. His hopes, dreams, ambitions—what did he want

from life?

‘Never mind.’ He left her in ignorance, and, taking her arm, muttered, ‘Come on. We have a lot to do.’

‘Why? Where are we going?’ Riona asked as they walked towards the limousine.

‘Lunch—unless you’ve already had it,’ Cameron responded briefly.

Riona shook her head, but remained puzzled. Why would Cameron wish to take her to lunch?

He answered her frown, saying, ‘We have things to discuss. A restaurant wil afford us more privacy than my father’s house.’

‘I suppose,’ Riona agreed, but gestured towards her skirt and shirt, ‘Just don’t make it anywhere too posh.’ Cameron looked her up and down, and a

deepening frown told her she definitely didn’t pass inspection. It was smal surprise when he himself was wearing a conservative dark suit, silk shirt and silk tie.

Riona, however, felt he didn’t have to look quite so disapproving, or be quite so ready to agree with her, as he asked Stevens if he knew of any smal , down-market restaurants in the area. Stevens, holding open the back door for the two of them, confirmed he did, and was soon criss-crossing back streets to reach their destination.

Gloria had discreetly moved to the front of the car to sit with Stevens. With the glass partition between, that left Cameron and Riona perfect privacy in the back. Cameron, however, seemed to have no desire to converse. He looked across her to his son, now asleep in his car-seat, then looked out at the passing streets. Riona, seated in the middle of the back seat, looked down at her hands and tried not to care about his indifference to her.

When they arrived at their destination, Cameron instructed Stevens and Gloria to wait in the car with Rory. Riona, if she felt like objecting to such an arrangement, wasn’t given the chance, as he grasped her elbow and steered her inside the smal Italian pizzeria.

With its polished wooden floor and pretty chequered tablecloths, it seemed to be a haunt of young student types. At any rate, she fitted in and

Cameron didn’t. He looked overdressed in his dark suit and drew a couple of stares from the more casual y dressed clientele.

‘Did you get al that you require for the baby?’ he asked when they’d both given their order.

Riona nodded, then felt she should confess, ‘I’m afraid I spent rather a lot.’

‘Real y?’ Cameron raised an enquiring brow.

‘I didn’t mean to,’ Riona ran on. ‘I got carried away. There were so many nice things for babies.’ She started to produce the credit slips that were burning a hole in her handbag.

He gestured for her to put them away. ‘Just give us a bal -park figure,’ he suggested drily.

‘I... about a thousand dol ars,’ Riona final y admitted, rather shamefaced.

She waited for his reaction, and was startled when he laughed out loud.

‘That much, hmm?’ he commented with mock seriousness, then laughed again. ‘You real y have no idea, do you?’

‘Of what?’ Riona scowled now, realising he was laughing at her naiveté.

‘Money. Wealth. Life... Anything,’ he summed up, his mouth stil slanting with amusement. ‘You practical y have
carte blanche
to buy what you like, and you worry about spending a grand... Have you any idea what I’m worth?’

‘No, and I don’t want to,’ Riona snapped in return. ‘Not everyone’s impressed by money, you know.’

‘No, just nearly everyone,’ Cameron commented cynical y, but his sudden good humour remained as he continued, ‘I don’t suppose you spent

anything on yourself.’

She shook her head, saying, ‘There’s nothing I need.’

‘Think again.’ His manner sobered as he informed her, ‘A week on Friday my father and Barbara are throwing a smal get-together for family and

friends to meet the bride. When I say smal , I mean only about thirty people. When I say get-together, I mean black tie and designer dress affair... Now, from memory, I don’t think your wardrobe runs to formal dinner parties, and I assume you won’t want to go in your jeans.’

‘I don’t care,’ Riona claimed defiantly.

‘Possibly you don’t,’ Cameron countered, ‘but I do, so this afternoon we’l hit the dress shops.’

‘We?’

‘You and me.’

‘You’re joking.’ Riona accepted she might need a suitable dress, but not with him as shopping companion. ‘Don’t you have any work to do?’

‘Three desks ful ,’ he confirmed, ‘but it’l wait. Dressing you has priority.’

‘How flattering.’ Riona pul ed a face, wel aware he was only doing it so she wouldn’t let him down total y.

He didn’t have a chance to respond before the waiter appeared with their order, and Riona studiously concentrated on eating the pizza she’d

requested.

She was almost finished when Gloria appeared in the restaurant with a wailing Rory in her arms. The wails subsided slightly as Riona took him, but

he was clearly hungry.

‘I have to feed him,’ Riona informed Cameron, hoping he’d get the message. ‘I’l go back to the car.’

To his credit, he understood immediately, saying, ‘Send Stevens in to me.’

Riona duly did, before instal ing herself in the back seat of the spacious limousine and giving Rory her breast. She could do so in relative privacy as the darkened windows stopped prying eyes from outside. She did not count, however, on Cameron fol owing her out to the car.

He climbed into the rear with her, sitting on the bench seat opposite, and, when she made a move to cover her breast, urged, ‘Don’t. I like to watch.’

Riona’s face coloured at his frankness, but she did as he said, continuing to feed their child. She kept her head down, her loose blonde hair curtaining her face, but al the time she was conscious of Cameron’s eyes on her and Rory, sucking hungrily on her breast. She knew it was the baby who held his interest, yet the feelings that stirred inside herself were for the man, and for a time not so long ago, when they had loved each other.

Perhaps he remembered too, for, when the baby final y released her nipple, a hand caught at hers before she could button back her shirt. Her eyes

went to Cameron’s, questioning the action, but his gaze was fixed on her breast, which was heavy and wet with milk. She had not thought of herself or her body as sensual since childbirth, but the look on his face suggested otherwise. When he raised his head, she saw her own desire reflected in his dark blue eyes.