The Sabbides Secret Baby (9 page)

‘No, Phoebe. I could not possibly deprive you of a weekend away. I have time to spare and would love to spend it with you both.’

‘Isn’t that great, Mum?’ Ben asked, and after her brilliant son had informed Jed the caravan was huge, with two bedrooms and a sofa that made a bed, she did not even have the excuse that there was no room for the manipulative devil. Mentioning that Jed had not packed was a waste of time, as the damn man said he could buy anything he needed…

Then with a cynical smile he insisted on taking her car keys and retrieving the suitcase from her car. Phoebe,
running out of excuses to refuse, was stunned into horrified silence.

Short of dragging her son out of the car and telling the hateful man to get lost she had no choice but to go along with the pair of them.

How in heaven’s name, she asked herself, had her planned escape from Jed ended up with him spending the whole weekend with them—in the caravan of all places?

It would be one hell of a culture shock for the stinking rich Greek, that was for sure. She doubted he even knew what a caravan was…

He looked at her in the rearview mirror, his dark eyes gleaming with laughter. ‘Right, Phoebe, where are we going and which way?’ he demanded with a broad smile.

For an instant she was reminded of the first time they’d met, and the brilliance of his smile that had so captivated her. Her lips quirked at the corners in the beginnings of a smile, but she clenched her teeth instead as she realised he had good reason to smile, but she did not. Jed had got his own way yet again…

‘Weymouth,’ she said abruptly. ‘Your sat-nav will guide you.’ And, turning her head, she looked out of the window and tried to ignore him.

A while later the big car finally stopped in front of the barrier at the entrance to the caravan park.

‘Wait here while I check in at Reception and get the pass.’

Phoebe had endured an hour of near silence, which unfortunately had given her a lot of time for her gaze to stray to the back of Jed’s head and remember running her fingers through his thick black hair and a lot more last night. Consequently she was hot and bothered, and could not get out of the car fast enough.

Five minutes later Phoebe returned and handed the pass to Jed through the open window of the car.

‘What took you so long?’ he asked.

‘It is Saturday morning and next week is the half term holiday—the last school break before Christmas. That is why it is busy,’ she snapped.

‘Ah, I understand. Jump in and tell me which way to go—I want to see where we are sleeping tonight.’

His comment, and the sensual curl of his lips as he smiled, made Phoebe’s temperature almost reach boiling point, and she slid in to the back seat silently fuming.

Her temper did not improve when they reached the caravan and Jed deftly parked the car alongside. Within seconds he had lifted Ben out and ascended the steps to the balcony, waiting impatiently for her to open the door.

Instructing Ben to unpack his bag in his usual bedroom, she tried to persuade Jed to leave—telling him straight that she did not want him there, and that a man like him, accustomed to luxury, would hate the place. But all to no avail. He astounded her by saying he had driven across America in a Winnebago in his youth, and this was bigger.

With Ben running in on the argument, grabbing Jed’s hand and insisting on showing him around, she had to give up…

Contrary to Phoebe’s expectations, the day was not a complete disaster. After lunch in a fish restaurant on the harbour, the afternoon had been good. They had driven out to Portland Bill to see the lighthouse and take the tour of Portland Castle, and Jed had taken countless photos with his cellphone—one great one of Ben sitting astride a cannon.

But that had been after she had got over a nasty shock when they went shopping in the morning—and if she was honest one hell of a wake-up call…

Ben hadn’t been able to decide which wallpaper he liked best, and had demanded both cars and dinosaurs. She had agreed, though she knew to adult eyes two walls decorated in one print and two in another was not ideal.

Jed had asked the shop-owner when they would do the work, suggesting that afternoon and evening would be good. What had happened next opened her eyes once and for all to the wealth and power of the man.

Phoebe had given Jed a condescending smile and told him the
shop
did not do the decorating—she was going to do it herself next week. But he had simply looked at her and said, ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ A few telephone calls later he was demanding her house keys and handing them over to a burly-looking man called Sid, along with the bags…

Apparently Sid was her son’s bodyguard, as of yesterday, and he was going to stay at her home to take care of things while the decorators did their work over the weekend. The timing was ideal.

Now, showered and changed into a blue velour V-necked jumpsuit, Phoebe sat on the bed watching her sleeping son and was forced to face that, no matter how much she protested over the idea of a bodyguard, Ben’s life was changed for ever. Jed had simply pointed out that Ben was his son and the fear of kidnap was an ever-present threat. That had shut her up…

Leaning forward, she brushed a few curls from his brow and dropped a soft kiss on his cheek. Standing up, she squared her shoulders and quietly left the bedroom.

P
HOEBE
looked along the small corridor that opened out into the kitchen-dining area and the living area and, taking a deep breath, walked forward.

A large soft-cushioned seating arrangement in cream and brown was fitted the whole length of one wall, and curved a few feet each side. The middle portion folded down into a double bed if needed. A glass-topped coffee table was in the centre, and on the other wall was a neat stone-effect electric fire. Comfortable and practical—but nothing like the sort of surroundings Jed was accustomed to, she thought dryly.

But, seeing Jed sprawled along one end of the sofa, minus his shoes and with his mobile phone to his ear, talking in rapid if muted Greek, the expression on his face one of intense concentration, she saw he looked surprisingly at home.

Jed, as if sensing her approach, finished his call and lifted his head, his dark eyes resting on her. ‘Ben asleep?’ he asked.

‘Yes. Please don’t interrupt your phone calls on my account. I’m going to make a cup of tea and go to bed.’

‘It is only eight, Phoebe, and avoiding the issue of Ben will not make it go away. Come and join me in a glass of
champagne and try behaving like the intelligent woman you are instead of running scared all the time.’

It was only then that she noticed a bottle of champagne and two glasses standing on the unit that ran under the front window. ‘Where did you get that from?’

‘From the fridge in the car. We have more important things to talk about. Ben is our son and you have done a great job raising him. He is a bright, intelligent and loving boy all because of you, but he does need his father—more and more the older he gets. There will never be a better time than now to discuss his future.’

Rising to his feet, he opened the bottle of champagne with a quick twist, avoiding any explosive bang, and filled the two glasses. ‘You know I am right.’

He handed a glass to her and fatalistically she took it, carefully avoiding touching his fingers with hers.

‘I have no intention of pouncing on you, Phoebe,’ he drawled sardonically. ‘Well, not unless I am asked.’ His lips twisted in the briefest of smiles. ‘Come and sit down and relax,’ he ordered, and lounged back down on the sofa.

He was right…as usual…and there was no point in avoiding the inevitable conversation any longer. She accepted that. As for relaxing—much to her chagrin she knew that was beyond her. She was too intensely aware of Jed. The close confines of the caravan did not help, but short of perching on one of the dining chairs Phoebe had no choice but to sit beside him—leaving a good two feet of space between them.

‘Cheers,’ he said, raising his glass to hers.

Reluctantly she touched it with hers. ‘Cheers,’ she murmured and took a sip.

‘Now, isn’t that better? A toast to old times between two friends.’

‘I suppose so.’ Except Jed had never truly seen her as
a friend, only as a mistress…A willing woman to share his bed and a convenient sex partner, but not good enough share his real life. He had taken great care to make sure she never met his family or mixed with any of his high-echelon friends like the ambassador and Sophia—the sophisticated elite of Greek society—and she never would be. She had to remember that he was here for her son, nothing more.

Jed noted Phoebe’s hesitation and the shadow that clouded her brilliant eyes. He could tell something in what he had said had evoked a bitter memory of the past, though for the life of him he did not know why. But he wasn’t taking any chances.

‘This is an okay caravan—how long have you owned it?’ he asked, deciding to get her into a mellow mood before laying down the law.

‘Hardly up to your luxury standard!’ Phoebe quipped, arching a delicate eyebrow in his direction, not fooled for a moment by his change of subject. ‘But it is perfect for us,’ she stated, deciding to go along with him—anything to delay the inevitable argument over Ben. ‘We actually rented a caravan here for eight weeks the summer we had the two cottages converted into one. Ben was eighteen months old and he loved it by the sea so much Aunt Jemma and I decided to buy a caravan for our own use. We spend all our holidays here, and quite a few weekends,’ she said, taking another sip of champagne.

‘I can see Ben loves it by the sea.’ Jed glanced at her, his deep brown eyes smiling into hers. ‘I had a great time today with you both. I am not sure fish and chips for lunch is a healthy diet, but I enjoyed them.’

‘Yes, I noticed,’ Phoebe murmured, warmed by his smile in more ways than one. Hastily she took another swallow of champagne. ‘Ben loves going to the fish restaurant on the harbour, and the pizzeria here on site as well—though
there is also a restaurant we could have gone to.’ She was beginning to ramble, and took another gulp of champagne and then drained the glass.

Jed refilled Phoebe’s glass, knowing from past experience she had no head for alcohol. After a couple of glasses of champagne she would relax and be much more amiable to his plan for Ben’s future. Underhand, maybe, but nowhere near as underhand as she had been in her efforts to deprive him of his son.

‘You wore him out, which is some accomplishment.’ Phoebe sank further back in the seat and, taking another sip of champagne, glanced sidelong at Jed. ‘Actually, you surprised me. You were very good with him, and he seems to like you.’

Jed regarded her silently for a long moment. She had no idea how condescending she sounded. Contrary to popular belief that men did not bond as quickly with their child as women, from the moment he had met Ben he had immediately felt a connection so intense it had surprised him. To have Phoebe say Ben
seemed
to like him actually stung—though he supposed he should be grateful she was prepared to concede that much after trying to deny he was his father altogether.

‘Thank you for that, Phoebe.’ If she recognised the sarcasm in his tone it did not show, and he continued in a softer vein. ‘But I have had plenty of practice with my sister’s children. She has four now—two girls and two boys. When Ben comes to Greece I know his cousins will be thrilled, and his Aunt Cora and Uncle Theo will adore him. As for my father—who recently divorced his fourth wife and hopefully his last—’ he grimaced ‘—seeing Ben will make his life complete.’

Jed saw the flicker of doubt, confusion in her eyes before she quickly lowered her gaze and took another sip
of champagne. She glanced back up at him through the thick curl of her lashes and he saw something else. She was as intensely aware of him as he was of her, however much she tried to pretend otherwise. For a moment he wanted to just cut the talk and kiss her senseless. But sex was one thing he could take or leave if he had to. His son was something else entirely. Now he had found Ben he was determined to keep him—preferably with Phoebe, but if not he was going to have Ben anyway…

‘Yes, well…’ Phoebe murmured.

Jed talking about his family was bittersweet. When they’d been together before he had mentioned his sister and her two girls once, and told her his mother had died when he was a teenager, but she had no idea his father had been married four times. In fact she knew very little about him really, other than that he was great in bed, she thought, her blue eyes roaming over his attractive face, lingering on his mobile mouth. Involuntarily she licked her lips, remembering the heady pleasure of his kisses. She felt the increased throb of her pulse through her whole body and swiftly lowered her gaze to the half-empty glass in her hand, shamed by her helpless lust for Jed.

‘Maybe some day,’ she muttered, afraid to look at him. Afraid he would recognise how she was feeling. She watched as he topped up her glass and put his own down on the table.

‘
Maybe
is not good enough, Phoebe,’ Jed declared, and she took a long drink of champagne to steady her racing pulse. ‘I want him to know his Greek family. It is unfair to Ben and unfair to me. He needs to know I am his father, and tomorrow I am going to tell him—whether you like it or not. It would be much better to agree on the moment between us, here and now.’

Obviously she was wrong. Jed had no idea her thoughts
had wandered into the erotic. He wasn’t interested in her half as much as in her son, as his last statement proved. She stared up into his glittering eyes and saw the determination in the dark depths. A shiver of fear slithered down her spine. She took another great gulp of champagne and it gave her the confidence to deny him.

‘No, I think you are being a bit premature. Ben needs time to get to know you—to adjust.’

Jed had had enough of playing it cool. It wasn’t getting him anywhere. ‘Premature…That is rich, coming from you.’ His tone dripped sarcasm. ‘A woman who was apparently quite happy to let Ben grow up believing his father was unknown. How do you think that makes me feel?’ he demanded. ‘It was sheer coincidence we met again, and it was only your inability to keep the panic out of your eyes that made me suspect something. But not for a second did I think it was my child you were hiding. I can see he is well taken care of, but instead of two women working to support him
I
should have been supporting him. I believe in taking care of my own.’

Phoebe’s lips twitched. ‘Don’t beat yourself up over it. You have been in a way.’ She giggled.

‘You think this is a laughing matter—and what do you mean, in a way? he demanded starkly.

‘Simple. The jewellery you gave me funded my teacher training, and that ostentatious diamond necklace alone allowed me to buy the cottage next to my aunt’s. The rest bought this caravan. So you see you have nothing to feel guilty about on the monetary front.’ Promptly she hiccupped, then added, ‘Though on the moral front paying for sex with jewels is definitely sleazy. But, hey—according to you I had earned them, so I kept them and spent them.’

Ignoring her last comment—he had never really thought
of Phoebe that way, but he wasn’t going to argue—Jed glanced around the caravan.

‘You actually sold the presents I gave you?’

He pictured the converted cottage and was stunned to think the things he had given her, the cost of which had been a mere drop in the ocean to him, had helped support Phoebe in her career and everything else for five years. He spent more in a month.

‘Yes. Well, most of them.’

Unable to help himself, Jed looped an arm around her waist and, catching her chin between his thumb and fingers, tilted her face to his. Her blue eyes sparkled as she gave him a brilliant smile.

‘I kept the hairclip for a rainy day.’

The champagne had certainly loosened her tongue, Jed realized. She would probably never have told him the truth stone-cold sober. It made him feel a lot better, knowing he had provided something for Ben—although unwittingly.

‘You didn’t have to tell me that, but I’m glad that you did.’ Unable to resist the temptation, he brushed his lips gently against hers.

‘My pleasure,’ she murmured as long lashes fluttered down over her blue eyes.

Her head fell back against the curve of his shoulder, exposing her slender throat, and her hand dropped on to his thigh. He tensed, raising his head to let his dark gaze roam over her delicate features and lower, to where her breasts were outlined by the blue velvet V-neck top she wore. The ache in his groin he had been fighting all day intensified.

Phoebe looked up at him, all soft and willing, her lips slightly parted, and he could not resist lowering his head again and licking the lush outline of her mouth, before allowing his tongue to dip inside and lightly stroke hers.
Then he withdrew to trail kisses down the elegant length of her throat.

‘I swore I would not do this again.’

Phoebe was beguiled by the lazy gentle kiss and the caress, but Jed’s huskily drawled comment penetrated the champagne-induced fog in her brain. Suddenly she realised his arm was around her shoulders and she was curled up against him, her hand on his leg, her slender fingers massaging a muscular thigh.

For the life of her she could not understand how she had got herself in this position yet again with a man she had despised and feared for the past five years. Too much champagne, that was how…

‘You are not doing anything,’ she said, struggling to sit up and swiftly removing her hand from his thigh. ‘In fact you can take yourself off to a hotel. I don’t trust you here.’ She moved along the seat, out of his reach. She didn’t dare stand up as she felt a little dizzy. She hoped from the champagne rather than from his kiss.

‘You don’t trust yourself, Phoebe, and I am going nowhere. But don’t worry—I will be strong for both of us.’

Jed’s amused drawl infuriated her, and getting to her feet she stared at him. ‘The middle of the sofa folds down. There’s linen on the table to make up the bed. I am going to mine, and I don’t want to see or hear you until tomorrow morning, you conceited, arrogant pig.’

Jed let her go…

Picking up his mobile phone, he flicked through the photos he had taken during the day and smiled. His son…Benjamin…The knowledge was still new, but the steely glint in his eyes as he came to the end of the pictures was not. Irrespective of Phoebe, whatever it took Ben was family and he was going to live with
him…

He glanced at the time before switching to his messages.
Ten in the evening—when had he ever gone to bed so early? he mused. The last time he’d actually spent the whole night with Phoebe. Not a good night to remember. The sex had been incredible, but the morning after had been a disaster.

He caught up with his calls, and then, connecting his laptop to a secure wireless network, worked solidly for the next three hours. A few problems had arisen that he was going to have to attend to in person in London, he realised as he finally signed off. He had not been out of the office for so long in years, and before that he had not been concentrating but wondering about Phoebe. Now he knew the incredible truth he was energised and itching to get back to work—and with a son and heir he had an added incentive.

He wasn’t wasting any more time trying to talk sensibly to Phoebe. Tomorrow he was going to tell Ben he was his father and take it from there. The sexy, malleable girl of twenty-one had morphed into an even sexier, sophisticated but stubborn woman. He could wait. She would come round to his way of thinking in the end—in his experience women always did.