The Billionaire Boss's Innocent Bride(9)

'Max, look,' a woman's voice broke in, 'I tried to explain at the time how that came about.'

'Oh, yes,' he said sardonically. 'You couldn't be sure whose son he was to start with.'

He paused briefly. 'But then, when you began to suspect he was mine, you   made the absolutely arbitrary decision that, since we wouldn't suit,   you'd bring him up on your own and not even tell me.'

The woman he'd called Cathy raised her voice in emotional frustration.   'Max, you know as well as I do, if there's anything we like to do better   than love each other, it's hate each other.'

'That didn't alter my right to know,' he said savagely. 'And now you   want to leave him with me, a complete stranger! How's that going to   affect him? Surely you must have some other back-up!'

'My mother's always been my back-up, she's been wonderful, but she's   going into hospital so I need to be with her and my nanny's walked out   on me. But, Max-'

Cathy's voice changed again, to husky with strain '-somehow-somehow-we   had to break the ice, you had to meet him. And Nicky's, well, he's a   very well-adjusted child and I've always told him his father is a   wonderful person. Anyway, he's got Nemo.'

Alex shook her head as she absorbed all this and the words started to   make sense. Then she flew up as she heard Max Goodwin swear graphically,   and, without bothering about her shoes, ran out of the green room to   make her presence known. The effect was electric. The two people in the   foyer moved convulsively.

'I-I'm so s-sorry,' she started to stammer.

But Max Goodwin said murderously, 'What the hell are you still doing here?'

And Cathy, probably one of the most heartbreakingly beautiful women Alex   had ever seen, murmured, 'Without her shoes? I wonder. But you always   did have good taste in women, Max.'

That was when, as Alex stared at the other woman incredulously, a very harassedlooking Margaret stepped out of the lift.

'He's fine, he's asleep,' she said immediately to Max, 'but I just   remembered Miss Hill. She looked so peaceful I let her sleep, but I   didn't get a chance to tell anyone and when you and Ms Spencer-' she   gestured towards Cathy '-decided to come upstairs to-well, discuss   things, I suddenly thought I should do something … ' She trailed off   awkwardly.

At eleven o'clock the next morning, Alex waited nervously in Max Goodwin's outer office.

It had been Margaret who'd called a taxi for her last night. A   perturbed-enough Margaret to lose some of her infinite discretion and   even murmur distractedly,

'How could she just turn up with him? I couldn't believe it. And he   won't be parted from Nemo.' Margaret's expression as she'd said the last   bit had been full of a sort of helpless, horrified apprehension.

Alex had not asked for clarification; most of the dramatic events of the   evening had become clear to her anyway. She did think that if the boy   refused to be parted from his pet fish, that was not so serious, but   everything else she'd overheard caused her to share Margaret's   sentiments. How could a mother behave like that?                       
       
           



       

She had no idea what else had transpired overnight, but she'd half   expected a call this morning, terminating her services. Not that she   felt she was in any way to blame for overhearing what she had, but it   did place her and Max Goodwin in an awkward situation.

Nor was she too sure he didn't blame her for eavesdropping. He hadn't   said much to her before she'd left, but he'd still looked and sounded   murderous. She looked down at herself. She was wearing a cocoa-brown   linen trouser suit over a fawn silk blouse with a Chinese collar, and   fawn leather high heels. Her badge was pinned to her suit collar. Her   hair was perfect-she'd taken advantage of Mr Roger's offer to comb it   for her and since Mary, the make-up girl, had been free, she'd done her   make-up.

It had been rather relaxing, Alex had thought, to be pampered, and she'd   realized that she needed relaxing. The events of the night before had   left her feeling tense and she'd had trouble sleeping. Cathy Spencer's   lovely face had been hard to get out of her mind …

She would be in her late twenties or early thirties, Alex had decided,   with long dark hair and a heart-shaped face with a wide, smooth   forehead. She had blue eyes herself, although not as dark as Max   Goodwin's, but with sweeping dark lashes, a full, provocative mouth and a   long, slender neck.

You would not have known she was a mother-her waist was narrow, the   curves above and below highlighted beneath a fitted oyster satin blouse   tucked into a short, straight biscuit linen skirt. A pair of very high   heels had emphasized her slender ankles.

But no amount of describing her shape and her colouring could capture   the-what was the right word?-passion, the spark, the living, breathing   warmth and vitality of Cathy Spencer, Alex had decided during her   wakeful night.

The other thing that had kept her awake had been her own confusion. Could one day have produced more issues for her, in fact?

There'd been the physical impact of Max Goodwin, the width of his   shoulders, the strength of his tall, elegant body, that   difficult-to-read but so interesting face-all of it, together with the   rather mind-blowing, sexy force you sensed in him, had slammed into her   consciousness during their second encounter in the green room. And that   moment when she'd almost believed he'd been as captivated by her …

How could she believe it now, though? How was it possible for any woman   to compete with Cathy Spencer even if theirs was a love-hate   relationship? And not only that, she was the mother of his son …

She came back to the present from all these disturbing thoughts as the   door to the inner sanctum clicked open and Max Goodwin stood in the   doorway with a boy by his side.

Alex's lips parted. You couldn't doubt whose son this was, the same   dark, dark hair, the same dense blue eyes. He was also quite tall for a   six-year-old. He wore corduroy navy trousers, a blue sweater and in one   hand he carried a backpack. In his other hand he held a lead that was   attached to a bundle of grey with black points-a Blue Heeler puppy,   probably three or four months old. It pricked its ears, advanced towards   Alex and barked.

'Nemo,' the boy said, 'don't. It's not polite.'

So this was Nemo, Alex thought, with an inward gurgle of laughter. A   lively bundle of pure mischief, no doubt. No wonder Margaret had looked   so apprehensive last night.

She stood up and put her head to one side. 'How do you do, Nemo?' she   said down to the dog. 'I must say you don't look at all like a clown   fish to me.' She bent down to pat the puppy and was rewarded with   several enthusiastic licks that made her laugh and tell the boy she   thought his dog was lovely.

'He never did look like a clown fish,' the boy confided. 'I just wanted   him to have a different kind of name. How do you do?' he added. 'I'm   Nicholas. Are you my new nanny?'

Alex's eyes flew to Max Goodwin. He hadn't said a word, just absorbed the little play of boy, dog and Alex, but now he stirred.

'No, Nicky,' he said. 'This is my interpreter. I told you about the   lunch today?' The boy nodded. 'Well, she's driving down with us. This is   Alex.'

Margaret came out from behind her desk carrying a padded dog basket. 'I   got this, Mr Goodwin. For Nemo. In the car. It's also waterproof just  in  case … ' She stopped and shrugged.

Max Goodwin, who looked, Alex suddenly detected, a bit less vital than usual, shuddered slightly.

'So where is my new nanny?' Nicky enquired.

'Well, for the time being we have a housekeeper down at the house and   she's happy to look after you. Jake will also be there-remember Jake   from last night?'                       
       
           



       

'Yes,' Nicky said tonelessly and he blinked several times, then he said   in a high, tight little voice. 'Did my mummy say when she would be   coming back?'

'As soon as possible, Nicky,' Max said. 'I-'

But the boy interrupted him. 'Couldn't you please be my nanny, Alex? At   least you like my dog and he likes you.' A single tear stole down his   cheek. There was silence and as Alex straightened slowly she found her   thoughts on the subject of mothers who did this to their children to be   highly uncharitable.

'Nicky,' she said quietly, and slipped her hand into the boy's, 'I would love to, but I have another job to do, you see, so-'

'We could-merge jobs,' Max said. 'You do have three days off from   tomorrow,' he reminded her. 'Anything on that you can't cancel?'