Miranda Lee - It Started With One Night - The Magnate's Mistress / His Bride for One Night / Master of Her Virtue

‘But what about New Zealand?’ Pierce asked, obviously confused by these orders.

‘You’ll have to go there in my place,’ Max said. ‘Do you think you can handle that situation on your own?’

‘Do I have complete authority? Or will I have to keep you in touch by phone during negotiations?’

‘You have a free hand. You decide if the hotel is a good buy, and if it is, buy it. At a bargain price, of course.’

‘You kidding me?’

‘No.’

‘Wow. This is fantastic. To what do I owe this honour?’

‘To my impending marriage.’

‘Your what?’

‘Tara’s pregnant.’

‘Good lord.’

Max could understand Pierce’s surprise. Max was not the sort of man to make such mistakes. But he wasn’t in the mood to explain the circumstances surrounding Tara’s unexpected pregnancy.

‘Just get on to the airlines, Pierce. Pronto. Then ring me back.’

‘Will do. And boss?’

‘Yes?’

‘Thanks.’

‘If you do a good job, there’ll be a permanent promotion for you. And a lot more travelling. I’m planning on cutting down on my overseas trips in future. But first things first. Get me on a plane for Sydney. Tonight!’

Max didn’t sleep much on the plane. Pierce had managed to get him a first-class seat on a QANTAS flight. He spent most of the time thinking, and planning. By the time the jumbo landed at Mascot soon after dawn, he had all his actions and arguments ready to convince Tara that marriage was the best and only option.

‘A brief stop at the Regency Royale,’ he told the taxi driver. ‘Then I’m going on to Quakers Hill.’

The driver looked pleased. Quakers Hill was quite a considerable fare, being one of the outer western suburbs.

Max hadn’t been out that way in ages, and what he saw amazed him. Where farms had once dotted the surrounding hillsides, there now sat rows and rows of new houses. Not small houses, either. Large, double-storeyed homes.

Tara’s place, however, was not one of those. Her address was in the older section of Quakers Hill, near the railway station, a very modest fibro cottage with no garage and little garden to speak of. The small squares of lawn on either side of the front path were brown after the summer and what shrubs there were looked bedraggled and tired. In fact the whole house looked tired. It could surely do with a makeover. Or at least a lick of paint. But of course, Tara’s mum was a widow, had been for a long time. She’d had no sons to physically help her maintain her home.

It suddenly struck Max as he opened the squeaky iron gate and walked up onto the small front porch that Tara’s upbringing would not have been filled with luxuries. He recalled how awestruck she’d been the morning after the first night they’d spent together, when she’d walked through the penthouse and oohed and aahed at everything.

For the first time, a small doubt entered his mind about her falling pregnant. Could she be lying about it having been a rare accident? Could she have planned it? Was it a ploy to get him to marry her?

If it was, she would have to be the cleverest, most devious female he had ever known.

No, he decided as he rang the doorbell. The Tara he knew and loved was no gold-digger. She had a delightfully transparent character. She wasn’t capable of that kind of manipulative behaviour. She was as different from the Alicias of this world as chalk was to cheese.

That was why he loved her so much.

The door opened and Max peered down into eyes which were nothing like Tara’s. In fact, the short, plump, dark-haired woman glowering up at him was nothing like Tara at all, except perhaps for her nose. She had the same cute little upturned nose.

‘You’ve wasted your time coming here, Mr Richmond,’ she said sharply. ‘You should have rung first.’

‘I thought it best to speak to Tara in person. I did try to ring last night from the airport, but Tara must have taken the phone off the hook. She wasn’t answering her mobile, either. Look, Mrs Bond, I can understand your feelings where I’m concerned. You think I’m one of those rich guys who prey on beautiful young girls, but you’re wrong. I love your daughter and I would never do anything to hurt her. Now, could you tell her that I’m here, please?’

His words seemed to have taken some of the anger out of the woman’s face. But she still looked concerned. ‘That’s what I’m trying to tell you. She’s not here.’

‘What? You mean she’s gone to work, even after she knew I was coming?’

‘No. She left here last night. Packed a bag and took a taxi to I don’t know where.’

Max’s astonishment was soon overtaken by frustration. The woman had to be lying. ‘What do you mean you don’t know where? That’s crazy. You’re her mother. She would have told you where she was going.’

A guilty colour zoomed into the woman’s cheeks. ‘We had an argument. She was angry with me for making her tell you about the baby. And I was angry with her for hanging up on you, then taking the phone off the hook. I thought she was being silly. And stubborn. I…I…’

Joyce bit her bottom lip to stop herself from crying. If only she could go back to yesterday. She’d handled the situation terribly from the moment Tara had told her about the baby. After the initial shock had worn off, she’d begun badgering the girl about telling Max and demanding that he marry her. When Tara threw back at her that men these days didn’t marry girls just because they were pregnant, Joyce had been less than complimentary over the morals of men like Max Richmond, and the silly girls who became involved with them. By the time the man himself had rung last night, Joyce had been determined to somehow let him know that Tara was having his baby.

She’d thought she was doing the right thing. But she’d been wrong. It had not been her decision to make. Tara was a grown woman, even if Joyce had difficulty seeing her daughter as that. To her, she would always be her baby.

‘I don’t know where she’s gone. Honestly, Mr Richmond,’ she said, her head drooping as tears pricked at her eyes.

‘Max,’ he said gently, feeling genuinely sorry for the woman. ‘I think it’s about time you called me Max, don’t you? Especially since I’m going to be your son-in-law.’

Joyce’s moist eyes shot back up to his. ‘You…you mean that? You’re going to marry my Tara?’

‘If she’ll have me.’

‘If she’ll have you. The girl adores you.’

‘Not enough to stay here when I asked her to.’

‘I was partly to blame for that. I…I didn’t handle the news of her pregnancy very well.’

‘Don’t worry, neither did I. Did she say something before she left?’

‘She said to tell you she had to have some time by herself. Away from everyone telling her what to do. She said it was her body and her life and she needed some space to come to terms with the situation and work out what she was going to do. I spoke to Jen after she left. Jen’s her older sister, by the way…’

‘Yes, I know all about Jen.’

‘You do?’ Joyce was surprised.

Max’s smile was wry. ‘We do talk sometimes, Tara and I.’

The implication sent some pink into Joyce’s cheeks. But truly, now that she’d met the man in the flesh, she couldn’t blame Tara for losing her head over him. He was just so handsome. And impressive, with an aura of power and success about him. A wonderful dresser too. That black suit must have cost a small fortune.

‘You were saying?’ he prompted. ‘Something about Tara’s sister.’

‘Oh, yes, well, I thought at first that Tara might have gone there, so I called Jen. I was probably on the phone when you rang from the airport. Tara had taken it off the hook but I put it back on later. Much later, I guess,’ she added sheepishly. ‘Anyway, she wasn’t there and Jen didn’t know where she might have gone. I was feeling awful because I thought I’d made her run away. But Jen said it was also because she was frightened you might try to talk her into getting rid of the baby when you got here.’