A Perfect Husband Read online

  She had no choice.

  She would begin by waiting a day or so before she canceled with the three J’s. Taking a deep breath, she smiled pleasantly and answered Zane’s question. “I didn’t see much point in waiting around.”

  Zane’s brows jerked together. “There’s every point. You should have waited for the in-depth security checks.”

  Lilah’s mood soared at his bad temper. “You didn’t mention a further check. In any case, other than the very thorough checks you’ve already conducted there’s nothing more that can be done unless you intend to put them under twenty-four-hour surveillance—”

  She was caught and held by the complete absence of expression on Zane’s face. “That is what you were planning on doing, isn’t it?”

  Zane’s gaze met hers for a searing moment. “Yes.”

  The small, delighted shock wave she felt at his admission was replaced by a sudden breathless anticipation as he studied the screen. Lilah felt like a kid at Christmas, waiting to unwrap a gift. The surveillance only proved her point. It was the kind of extreme thing one did when they were falling in love.

  The discovery made her feel like dancing a jig around the sunny room. She had clung to the depressing view that Zane was elusive and superficial and absolutely not good husband material. Now wasn’t a good time to feel that, despite all the areas they did not fit, crazily, he was perfect for her.

  Zane stabbed a key and began studying profiles. “You’ve chosen Appleby, Riordan and Smith. I wouldn’t trust Smith. His first name’s John—that makes him close to invisible in terms of security information.”

  Lilah kept her expression smooth and professional. “The initial dates, are just a meet and greet, they do not imply commitment.”

  There was a vibrating silence, broken by the near silent sound of an indrawn breath. With controlled movements, Zane picked up the hotel folder, which lay next to her laptop and flipped to the page of restaurant listings as if food was suddenly paramount. “You could withdraw from the process.”

  The barely veiled command in his voice made her want to fling her arms around his neck and hug him. To prevent herself from looking deliriously happy, she picked up a pen and pad and started working on her new plan of action by making an important note. She could not afford any over-the-top displays of affection until Zane capitulated. She allowed her brows to crease, as if she had just remembered that Zane had said something but was too distracted to recall his exact words. “Why should I do that?”

  Zane, who seemed more interested in the restaurant he was choosing than their conversation, picked up the sleek phone on the desk, although his grasp on the phone was gratifyingly white-knuckled. “Given the recent publicity, I’m not inclined to trust any of the three. If you won’t accept surveillance reports then I’m going to have to insist on being present at the interviews.”

  Lilah tapped her pen on the notepad. “Let me get this right. You don’t want a relationship with me, yet you’ll take time off to make sure I’m…”

  “Safe is the word you’re looking for.”

  Lilah was momentarily sidetracked by the stormy look in Zane’s eyes. A quiver of anticipation zinged down her spine then she registered Zane’s emphasis of the protection angle. She was certain he was using it as a handy excuse to avoid admitting to anything else. “You can’t come to the interviews.”

  She had no problem being firm on that point since she intended to cancel all three dates. “What would I tell the applicants?”

  Zane froze in the act of dialing the hotel restaurant. “Tell them you’re no longer available.”

  Fourteen

  Zane allowed the singular truth that he was burningly, primitively possessive of Lilah to settle in.

  With a sense of incredulity, he realized that he had made the kind of rash, male, territorial move he had only ever observed in other men.

  He had crossed a line and now there was no going back.

  He eased his grip on the phone and set it back on its rest a little more loudly than he had intended.

  Lilah, who was in the process of shutting down her computer, was oddly composed. There was a distinct air of expectation that made his jaw compress.

  She closed the laptop with a gentle click. “What exactly do you mean by ‘no longer available’?”

  Her gaze was carefully blank, but he detected the hopeful gleam in her eye. He knew with utter certainty that she wanted him to say marriage.

  Bleak satisfaction that he had finally made it on to Lilah’s list of marriage candidates was tempered with irritation that it had taken so long, and the old, ingrained wariness. He could feel the jaws of Lilah’s feminine trap poised to snap shut.

  As much as he wanted Lilah, he would not be maneuvered into a relationship that would leave him vulnerable. Years had passed since his mother had abandoned him, not once, but a number of times in pursuit of well-heeled lovers or husbands. He would never forget how it had felt to have the rug pulled out emotionally, to be relegated to last place on her list when he had needed to be first. By the time his father, Lorenzo, had found him at age fourteen, he’d had difficulty forming any relationships at all.

  Remembering the past was like staring into a dark abyss. The level of trust involved in committing to any kind of intimate relationship still made him go cold inside. The progress he had made over the past few years was monumental but he was not capable of moving any further forward with Lilah now unless he could be absolutely, categorically certain of her love.

  Unfortunately, Lilah’s continued focus on finding a steady, reliable husband suggested that he was not even close to being number one in her life.

  Grimly, he realized that part of his wariness revolved around the certainty that, because of his shadowy past and inner scars, a breakup was inevitable. And when it happened, he would most likely be the instigator of the betrayals.

  “What exactly do you mean by ‘no longer available’?”

  Grimly, he examined Lilah’s question, and the demand that had surprised them both.

  Unlocking his jaw, he answered her question. “I think we should try…living together.”

  “For how long?”

  Zane, arrested by Lilah’s calm response, watched as she strolled to the kitchenette and extracted a bottle of water from the fridge. He had the sudden, inescapable feeling that he had ventured into a maze and was being herded by a master strategist.

  To his surprise he found there was an element of relief to the thought that Lilah would try to ruthlessly manipulate him into an even deeper commitment. He had always viewed her methodical approach to getting what she wanted from relationships as calculating. Now, it occurred to him that with his past he could not afford to go into a relationship with a woman who was too weak or too frightened to try to hold on to him. “I don’t know.”

  She poured a glass of water and walked sedately in the direction of the bedroom. “Let me think about it.”

  The door to her bedroom closed quietly behind her.

  Zane stared at the closed door for long seconds.

  His heart was pounding, his jaw locked. He was aware that Lilah had just pulled off a feat that no one in either his professional or his personal life had attempted in a good ten years.

  She had put him on hold.

  She had kept her three agency dates, with him on the side.

  For the first time since he was a teenager on the streets he experienced what it felt like to be shut out, although the feeling was somewhat…different.

  As a teenager, he had been running on survival skills and desperation. That was not the case now. In his job as the Atraeus Group’s troubleshooter, he had spent years dealing with people who were intent on closing doors in his face.

  Probably the most important skill his father had taught him was that when it came to negotiating there was always a way. He either found another door or he made his own, whatever got the job done.

  It was an odd moment to realize that his time as a homeless kid had c
reated qualities in him that had uniquely fitted him out for problem solving. For one thing, he did not give up easily. He was also used to operating from a losing position, and winning.

  Something in him cleared, healed.

  He was aware of a sense of lightening. He was no longer fourteen and at the mercy of forces and people he could not control. Ten years on, he had a certain set of life skills and a considerable amount of money. Those two factors provided him with an edge that had been formidably successful in business.

  A sense of relief filled him. In the business arena he had never been defeated no matter how unpromising the situation. He did not see why he couldn’t apply the same strategies that had been so successful in business to a relationship. The only wonder of it was that he had never thought of that before.

  His decision made, he strolled to his computer and found the details the security firm had supplied for the three men Lilah had chosen.

  Strolling into the kitchenette, Zane opened the fridge. It was depressingly empty. He had missed lunch and his stomach felt hollow and empty. Now hungry as well as frustrated, he pulled out a beer and called down to room service for a pizza.

  He walked back to his computer, intending to catch up on some correspondence. On the way, he noticed that Lilah had forgotten to take the bridal-white leather-bound folder with her.

  The last time he had seen the contents of the folder had been when Lilah had dropped it on the floor of the jet on her first flight out to Medinos. He had only read snatches; just enough to understand that it contained the kind of inside information that would be very useful to him right now.

  The sound of the shower in Lilah’s en suite bathroom was the decider. The phrase “all is fair in love and war” took on a new resonance as he picked up the folder and carried it out to the terrace to read.

  Setting the beer on the table, Zane pulled out a chair, sat down and began flipping through the pages. There was a formatted set of profiles, complete with photographs, a series of neatly handwritten notes including underlined notations highlighting domestic prowess, and a punitive points system.

  A failed marriage carried a penalty of ten points. The total any one man could earn was twenty. Divorce wasn’t complete disaster, but close.

  That was one blot that couldn’t be entered against his name, however his sense of gratification evaporated when he read the next line. Serial dating was penalized almost as heavily, carrying a maximum demerit of eight.

  The scoring range from four to eight indicated there was room for movement in that category depending on the seriousness of the misdemeanor.

  There was a zero tolerance for fathering an illegitimate child. Immediate disqualification was indicated.

  The list went on, including a number of ways in which points could be earned. Gifts were good; a maximum of five points could be redeemed. The scoring wasn’t based on the value of the item, which could be as simple as a flower. Apparently, the ability to personally select gifts was key. Jewelry was a time-honored indicator because it spoke to emotional value. Significant jewelry was a sign about how the rest of the relationship would go.

  He had just taken the last swallow of beer when his gaze snagged on the last item on the demerit list. A penchant for junk food and beer indicated a lack of nutritional responsibility that could carry over into Other Areas.

  Directly below the demerit list, typed in boldface so it couldn’t be missed, was a notation: three strikes and you’re out.

  His fist closed on the now-empty beer can. Absently, he placed the crushed aluminum on the patio table. From inside he heard a knock on the door. Room service, no doubt, with the pizza he had ordered.

  He paid the young waiter, added a generous tip and told him to give the pizza to a family with young kids he had noticed staying farther down the hall. Somewhere between demerit items eight and nine, his appetite had faded.

  The shower was still running, so he walked back out to the patio, got rid of the beer can in the kitchen trash then sat down and flipped through to the end of the folder. There were a number of rejected profiles at the back. Lucas and Howard were the most recent additions to that section.

  The final sheet was a list of discarded Possibles: men who Lilah knew through business and social connections or the dating website, but who had not made it through to the selection process.

  Snapping the folder closed, Zane replaced it on the table and paced to the terrace railing. Gripping the wrought iron edge, he stared out at the stunning view of the bay.

  The contents of the folder had given him an insight into what Lilah wanted from a man. However, the most significant fact from his point of view was that he did not even make it into the folder.

  Lilah had not even considered him in her discarded possibles list.

  Jaw tight, he strode back to the table and flipped through to the points system. He was aware of his shortcomings, but he did not think he was that bad. It annoyed him that Lilah had not even considered him as a possible.

  As if all he was good for was a quick thrill.

  He found the merit list and the notation he wanted: number five, gifts.

  A visual of the large solitaire ring Lucas had gotten Elena to order from an online store flashed into his mind. Lucas’s instincts had been good, although he had fallen down with his inability to personally select the ring.

  Flipping back to Lucas’s rejected profile, he noted that Lucas had not scored in the gifts area. Somehow he had managed to amass nineteen points without presenting Lilah with any kind of gift.

  Bleakly, he wondered what Lucas had done with the ring he had bought. If it fell into Carla’s hands, Lucas would have some fast talking to do.

  Not that Zane was interested in obtaining the solitaire, or anything like it.

  He had a better idea.

  * * *

  Lilah had expected dinner in the hotel restaurant to be a little tense after she had left Zane strategically hanging. However, instead of the frustration she had glimpsed that afternoon, Zane seemed relaxed and oddly preoccupied, as if his mind was on other things.

  Twice he had taken calls on his cell, getting up from the candlelit patio table to pace around the enormous floodlit infinity pool, looking taut and edgy in black pants and a loose black shirt.

  To make matters worse, Gemma, who Lilah had thought was based in Sydney, was seated at a nearby table. According to Zane, his former P.A. had just transferred to a position on Medinos, and now worked for the manager of the resort. She started her new job at the end of the week.

  Looking young and sexy in a minuscule hot orange dress that should have clashed with her titian hair but somehow didn’t, Gemma succeeded in making Lilah feel staid and old-fashioned in the classic white silk sheath she had chosen.

  Every time Lilah’s gaze was drawn to Gemma, the weight of every one of her twenty-nine years seemed to press in on her. Gemma looked far more Zane’s type than she could ever be. It was a depressing fact that in the dating game, classic Hepburn just did not cut it with Lolita. Her sexuality had finally been released, but it was clear that if she wanted to keep Zane’s eyes on her, she was going to have to update her wardrobe.

  She stared bleakly at the exquisite table arrangement of pink roses. Panic gripped her at the thought that she had overplayed her hand. That instead of giving their relationship a discreet nudge toward marriage, she had pushed too hard and Zane was now cooling off.

  Zane finished his call and returned to the table. Their dessert, an island specialty he had insisted on ordering, was delivered with a flourish. Lilah tried to show an interest in the exquisite platter of almond pastries and sweetmeats sprinkled with rose petals, but she had lost her appetite.

  A wine waiter materialized beside the table with a bottle of very expensive French champagne. As if they had something to celebrate.

  Candlelight, roses, champagne, all the classic elements of a grand romantic gesture.

  The depression that had settled on her like a dark shroud dissipat
ed, wiped out by a sudden dizzying sense of anticipation. Her heart began to pound. She felt like she was on an emotional roller coaster ride. Her instincts were probably all wrong, but she couldn’t blot out the sudden, wild notion that Zane was about to propose.

  Zane leaned forward and the subtle but heady scent of his skin and the devastating cologne made her head swim. “Do you see anything you like?”

  Her gaze was caught and held by the piercing quality of his eyes. In the candlelight his irises were midnight dark with an intriguing velvety quality. He frowned and she realized he wanted her to look at the dessert that had just been delivered.

  She surveyed the dessert tray. Almost instantly, she saw the glitter of jewels in the center.

  Her excitement evaporated. Not an engagement ring; a diamond bracelet.

  The standard currency for mistresses.

  At that moment, Gemma, who was leaving with her escort, stopped at their table.

  Her gaze moved from the discreet pop of the champagne cork to the bracelet. She smiled brightly. “Diamonds.” She waggled one slim, tanned wrist, displaying a narrow gold bangle that shimmered with tiny stones. “Doesn’t Zane give the best presents?”

  While the waiter poured flutes of champagne, Gemma lingered, introducing her date. She eventually left in a flurry of lace ruffles and floral perfume.

  Zane handed Lilah a flute of champagne, which she noted was pink, to match the rose petals. She tried to be upbeat about that fact. Zane had gone to a great deal of effort to create a special occasion, and he had brought her a gift, which was significant.

  Unfortunately, somewhere between discovering the bracelet and the conversation with Gemma, the sizzle of excitement had gone.

  His gaze held a hint of impatience. “Do you like it?”

  Lilah set the champagne down without tasting it. Grandma Cole had gotten a diamond bracelet from her lover, shortly before he had left her. She had used it as a down payment on a small cottage for her and the baby.

  Reluctantly, she extracted the bracelet from its nest of confectionary and petals. It was unexpectedly heavy for such a delicately, intricately constructed piece. Her breath caught as she noted the cut and the quality of the emeralds interspersed between the diamonds. Not new, but old. Make that very old.