Bound by Their Christmas Baby Read online

  A beat of something pulsed to life in Sebastio’s blood. Awareness. Arousal. For a moment he almost didn’t recognise it, it had been so long since he’d felt it. Nearly four years. He welcomed it as an antidote to the bitter memories.

  Then, as if sensing his attention on her, the woman slowly turned around. Sebastio wasn’t prepared for the kick to his solar plexus when he saw her revealed. She was stunning. Huge eyes framed by arching dark brows. Defined cheekbones and a lush mouth set off dramatically by her short hair, slightly longer at the front and feathering messily around her face.

  It gave her a delicate gamine appeal that sent a definite surge of desire through Sebastio’s body. It confounded him. Being so tall and big himself, he’d always gravitated towards statuesque women. This one looked as if a puff of wind would blow her over. And yet he could sense an inner strength. Crazy when she was a total stranger, with a thick pane of glass separating them.

  The woman was staring at Sebastio with an arrested expression. For a moment their eyes locked. Hers were deep blue, but even from here he could see the long lashes. And then, as if waking from a trance, she stalked over and dragged the drapes shut, leaving Sebastio looking back at his own distorted features in the glass.

  He had the strangest sensation of déjà-vu—as if he had seen her somewhere before. But the feeling was too ephemeral to pin down.

  He was stunned. No woman had ignited his interest or his desire so forcibly and immediately in four years. Not that anyone would believe it. Sebastio was a master of misdirection—covering up his flatlining libido with a series of high-profile dates that never went beyond a kiss. His reputation as a skilled lover and a connoisseur of beautiful women served as a smokescreen he used willingly.

  He thought of the display in the window again. It had effortlessly captured his attention, taking him unawares, which was unusual when he had such an aversion to Christmas. He thought of the advice he’d been given to decorate his home and something occurred to him...

  That woman might have sparked his libido back to life, but he needed her for something far more practical.

  Sebastio went back the way he’d come and turned the corner into the main street, thronged with people. He saw the main doors of the shop and strode towards them purposefully.

  * * *

  Edie Munroe was standing looking at the closed drapes like someone who’d been hypnotised. Or hit over the head. She’d never in a million years expected to see that guy again and yet...she just had.

  And it had struck her today as forcibly as it had four years ago, when she’d first laid eyes on him in a crowded nightclub in Edinburgh.

  It couldn’t be him, she told herself now, feeling her skin rise into goosebumps. It couldn’t be Sebastio Rivas.

  The fact that she even remembered his name was not welcome.

  What were the chances it was him? It had to be someone who looked liked him. After all, Sebastio Rivas was a mega-famous international rugby star. What on earth would he be doing walking down a random side-street in London?

  But her accelerated heart-rate told her it was him.

  It was galling to be reminded that no other man in four years had had the same effect on her. And she’d tried. She’d gone on Tinder dates, blind dates and internet dates. But on each date, when the guy had tried to take things a step further, Edie had felt herself shutting down.

  Because she couldn’t get out of her head how he’d made her feel four years ago. Alive and energised. Buzzing. Connected. Hopeful.

  And aroused.

  For the first time in her life she’d understood what people were talking about when they spoke of instant attraction, or said, You’ll know it when you feel it. She had felt it like a palpable energy. Electricity.

  It had been a wholly new sense of desire, and she’d known instinctively that only he could assuage the building sense of excitement in her core. A crazy assertion to have about a total stranger, but one so deep she could still feel it today.

  It was pathetic. Her entire exchange with Sebastio Rivas had lasted about five minutes. He’d told her to run along. He’d been out of bounds, out of her league, and he hadn’t hesitated in letting her know.

  The fact that she’d gravitated across a heaving dance-floor to orbit the sun of his smouldering sexuality—like every other woman in the room—was as freshly humiliating today as it had been then, especially after he’d sent her on her way.

  She’d been so sure she’d seen something...sensed something in him. Their eyes had locked and a silent communication had throbbed between them. She’d seen something in his demeanour, in his eyes, a kind of brittleness. And it had resonated within her because she’d felt the same.

  She’d just come through a major ordeal—cancer, which she’d contracted when she was seventeen, throwing her life into instant turmoil. It had become a fight for survival, an endless round of toxic treatments and sterile hospital rooms.

  For the previous eighteen months she hadn’t known if she would live or die, and some of the time she’d been feeling so sick she’d almost wished—

  Edie clamped down on that thought, remembering her parents’ worried, pinched faces.

  That very day she’d been given the all-clear, and that night had been her first foray back into the world. She’d felt as if a layer of skin had been removed, making everything feel too bright, too sharp. Too much.

  She remembered that she’d been wearing a dress borrowed from a friend. Short, silver and slinky. Not her style at all. But then, that whole night had been about a celebration she’d never expected to experience. A celebration of life.

  And, because her hair hadn’t yet started to grow back, she’d been wearing a wig. A shoulder-length bob. Bright red and hot and scratchy. Yet none of that had stopped her from approaching the most beautiful man in the room.

  She’d never seen or met a man who’d come close to his sheer charisma and good-looks. Well over six foot, he’d had the leanly muscled build of an elite athlete. The power in his body had been evident under his dark suit.

  A little desperately, she tried to tell herself again that the man she’d just seen outside couldn’t be him. But she’d never forget that face. Sculpted from stone. All slashing lines and sharp bones. Hard jaw. Deep-set eyes under black brows. Thick dark hair flopping messily over his forehead. Curling around his collar.

  And a mouth made for sin. Full and sensual. Softening those hard lines and the stern demeanor he’d exuded like a force-field.

  ‘Edie... Earth to Edie... Can I come down now?’

  She whirled around, aghast at her reaction to someone who probably wasn’t even the man she was thinking of. She was losing it.

  ‘Of course, Jimmy.’ She gabbled, ‘I think the man in the window—I mean, the man in the moon decoration works better than the star.’ She hoped Jimmy wouldn’t see her face flaming at her Freudian slip.

  ‘Not that anyone will see it,’ grumbled the young man as he came down the ladder. ‘We’re all the way around the corner from the main windows.’

  Edie said brightly, ‘It means we can be more creative with our wee display.’

  ‘Wee being the operative word. I hate the way the big designers get to dress the main windows now. It’s so...commercial.’

  ‘I know,’ said Edie, hiding a smile at the art student’s dismay and forcing her mind away from the past. She’d never got to college herself and had worked her way up the ranks to be a creative display artist. ‘That’s the way it is now, and I’m sure they’ll be beautiful.’

  ‘Yes, but they won’t be magical.’

  Privately Edie agreed. She too loved the magic and fantasy surrounding Christmas. She loved everything about Christmas. She was trying to create a little of that magic in this window, in spite of the fact that not many people would see it.

  But, times had changed, and now the big fashion designers
had more sway than the in-house creatives—especially at Christmas time.

  She pulled out another box full of decorations and said, ‘Right, we’ll have a quick tea break and then get started with this lot. The window has to be finished by this evening.’

  Jimmy mock saluted her. ‘Aye aye, boss.’

  Edie smiled at his cheeky grin as he escaped for his break. She looked at her watch and sighed. She knew she should take a break too, but if they wanted this window to be finished... She decided to keep going.

  As soon as her mind was occupied with nothing more than unwrapping decorations, though, it invariably wandered back to the man—to him.

  Edie looked up at the drapes suspiciously. She got up from the stool she’d perched on and went over cautiously, peeking out through a gap.

  Of course the street was empty now. Strange to feel disappointed. And silly. Maybe she’d conjured him up out of some subconscious fantasy she’d never admitted to harbouring?

  Edie pulled the curtains closed firmly and turned around, ready to put all random thoughts of disturbing men and memories out of her mind. She heard a sound and looked up with a smile on her face, expecting it to be Jimmy.

  But it wasn’t Jimmy. The smile promptly slid off her face.

  Her supervisor, Helen, was standing in the doorway to the window space and behind her was...him. Even taller and more intimidating than she remembered. Not a fantasy. Real.

  Helen, a no-nonsense blonde woman, came in, looking more than a little flushed and starry-eyed. And she was married with four children.

  ‘Edie, I’d like to introduce you to someone.’

  Edie’s feet were glued to the floor. She could not believe this was happening.

  And through the shock all she could think was, Would he recognise her? Her rational brain told her, Of course not. They’d barely spoken that night. She’d looked far different from how she looked now. And yet she couldn’t deny the tripping of her pulse, the breathless sense of anticipation.

  Her boss said, ‘Edie, this is Mr Sebastio Rivas—Mr Rivas, this is Edie Munroe, one of our display artists.’

  She stepped forward. The space, which was small anyway, now felt Lilliputian. Edie forced herself to look at him and her heart thudded to a stop. He was exactly how she remembered. Albeit slightly more groomed. His hair was still too long, but not as messy. The top button of his shirt was closed and his tie was pristine. She felt the strangest impulse to loosen it for him, as if she could sense that he felt constricted.

  Crazy. He was a stranger. He had been then, and he still was. He was looking at her intently, but with no apparent spark of recognition. She wasn’t sure if she was disappointed or relieved.

  He held out his hand. It was big and masculine. She had a memory flash of that hand on her bare upper arm, steadying her. When she’d walked over to him in the club someone had bumped into her from behind, pitching her forward. His hand had circled her whole arm.

  She realised that he was looking at her a little quizzically and that her boss was clearing her throat discreetly. Mortified to have been caught in her moment, Edie quickly put her hand in his. It disappeared. That same jolt of electricity she’d felt four years ago sizzled in her blood and she pulled her hand back, doing her best to hide her reaction. And her shock.

  ‘It’s nice to meet you.’

  She forced herself to look at him again. She noticed how grey his eyes were. Almost like steel. He had long dark lashes that only enhanced his physicality. Much like that ridiculously sensual mouth.

  ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Munroe.’

  Her toes curled at his deep and accented voice.

  Her boss spoke. ‘Mr Rivas has a proposition for you, Edie. Will you come with us to discuss it?’

  She knew this wasn’t a request. ‘Of course. Jimmy will be back soon—he can get on with the rest of the decorating.’

  Her boss made a small approving noise and went back out into the main shop. Sebastio Rivas indicated for Edie to go before him. She slipped out through the door, acutely conscious of him behind her, and she spotted more than one woman do a double-take as they walked past.

  It brought back a flood of memories from that night. The way her heart had been pounding so hard after she’d walked over to him. Pounding with desire and nerves. It had been at that moment when someone had jostled her from behind and she’d pitched forward helplessly.

  He’d put his hand around her arm to steady her and looked at her. ‘Who are you?’ His voice had been sharp. Almost accusatory.

  Edie had stuttered out, ‘N-no one. I just... I wanted to come and speak to you. I saw you...from across the room. You were looking at me too...and I thought... I thought you might want to speak to me...’

  His gaze had swept her up and down with an almost clinical disregard. The connection that had borne her aloft to do such an audacious thing had suddenly felt very tenuous. Suddenly she’d been very aware of her hot itchy head and the skimpy dress that felt far too skimpy.

  She’d also become acutely conscious of the thick VIP rope, separating him and his friends from everyone else. And her. She’d become aware of the stunning women orbiting around him—women Edie couldn’t hope to compete with. Women with abundant curves and thick luxurious hair. Confident.

  One of those women had come up to the man and slid an arm through his, pressing close. He’d glanced down at her, and then back to Edie, letting her arm go while saying, ‘There’s nothing for you here. You should run along.’

  Edie had stood there, her arm tingling from his touch and her insides seizing with humiliation that she’d got it so wrong. He’d pulled the woman into his body and bent his head to kiss her, so explicitly that the men in his party had started cat-calling and wolf-whistling.

  It had taken witnessing that final humiliation before Edie had turned blindly away and pushed her way back through the crowd...

  ‘Sorry, I’ll just be a moment.’

  Edie blinked. She hadn’t even noticed the journey to her boss’s office, or the fact that Helen had obviously been called away by another staff member. But suddenly she became aware, as the door closed behind her, that she was now in a tiny room with Sebastio Rivas.

  She’d only known who he was after she’d realised that he and all his friends were the Argentinian rugby team. After she’d got home that night she’d looked them up on the internet to find out that he was the captain. Their most prized asset. And the world’s most successful rugby fly half.

  Sebastio Rivas was looking at her.

  Edie pushed aside the onslaught of memories and cleared her throat. ‘Er... Helen said you had a...proposition?’

  Instead of answering her question he asked, ‘Your accent—where is it from?’

  Edie’s face grew warm. ‘It’s Scottish. I’m from a town just outside Edinburgh.’

  He was looking at her so intently that she held her breath for a moment—he couldn’t possibly be remembering her...could he?

  But then he said, ‘I do have a proposition, Miss Munroe. I want you to come and decorate my house for Christmas.’

  It took a second for his words to sink in, they’d come so far out of left field. Edie’s mouth opened and shut again, in shock. Opened again. ‘I... I’m afraid I don’t do private work... I work for the store. This is our busiest time.’

  ‘Nevertheless, I’d like you to work for me.’

  His tone suggested that he fully expected to be obeyed. Edie’s hackles went up. As if she needed reminding that he was a man used to issuing orders...

  There’s nothing for you here...run along.

  She crossed her arms over her chest and saw his eyes drop there momentarily, before rising to meet hers again. She hated feeling self-conscious, but it was hard when she knew she was...lacking. Small breasts, slim hips. And she’d been even skinnier four years ago.

  Edie h
ad put on weight and filled out since that time, but she’d never be able to compete with the kind of woman he evidently preferred, if the tall buxom woman he’d kissed that night had been an example of his tastes. No wonder he’d told Edie to run along.

  That whole weird connection thing she’d felt? Clearly it had all been in her head...and it was even more mortifying to think of it now. She was thankful he didn’t remember her.

  ‘I’m afraid that’s just not possible. I’m contracted to work here.’

  ‘I’ll match whatever your pay is for a year and triple it.’

  Edie’s breath stalled for a moment at the audacious offer—and the prospect of making more money than she’d ever made in her life. But then she shook her head.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mr Rivas. I can’t just leave and work for you... I’d lose my job if I left them in the lurch at Christmas.’ She saw an obdurate expression come over his face and blurted out, ‘Why do you want me to decorate your house? There are companies that hire out staff to do that specific job every year.’

  She could see the flare of irritation in his pewter eyes—more evidence that he wasn’t used to being questioned. She had the curious urge to stand up to him at all costs, not even sure why it was so important. Maybe because she didn’t want to be so dismissable this time?

  ‘I have a large house in Richmond, where I’m due to host some social functions in the run-up to Christmas. I saw your work. I like the level of detail you’ve put into a window that—let’s face it—not many people will even see.’

  Edie flushed, not expecting the compliment, nor that he would have recognised that their efforts were largely in vain. ‘I’m trained to dress windows and spaces around the store. I’ve never dressed an entire house before.’