uneasy glance went to the closed door which separated them. She could hear him humming under his breath as he mixed a drink for himself, she having already declined one. She hoped he had his male hormones firmly under control because she had no intentions of taking this make-believe marriage any further. Slade Benedict was arrogant, unfeeling and iron-willed. His readiness to commandeer her holiday for his own purposes was proof enough. She would be crazy to let him use her any further, when she knew from past experience how it was bound to end.
All the same, there was something about him which haunted her. His power over her job and pay cheque couldn’t explain it. This was much more intimate and disturbing, and she slammed her suitcase lid down hard, as if she could also put a lid on her thoughts. The sound reverberated through the suite, reminding Eden that she hadn’t heard any sounds from the other room for a while. Slade had said he intended to check out the conference venue, as he would be giving an address next day, so he must have gone to do so.
Cautiously, she opened her bedroom door and stepped into the living-room which separated their sleeping quarters. The remains of his drink sat on a side-table, a film of moisture beading the glass. Lazily she traced a pattern in the moisture then withdrew hastily. It was only his glass, for goodness’ sake. She should throw it in his face, not dream over it. What on earth was getting into her?
Her wandering gaze was arrested by several items lying behind the glass. Slade must have emptied his pockets before going out.
She ignored the jumble of keys, tickets and other paraphernalia, drawn instead to an open ticket wallet in which she glimpsed some photographs. Slade’s family? The temptation to peek was irresistible.
They were indeed family snaps, she found when she drew them towards her. One was of Slade wrestling an enormous black dog, a Newfoundland, Eden noted. He looked more relaxed and happy than she had ever seen him at the office. The second photo was a studio portrait of a young girl of about nine or ten. Her face was set in such a wistful expression that Eden’s heart constricted in response.
‘My daughter,’ Slade supplied in a harsh tone.
She jumped, not having heard him return. Waves of nausea washed over her. If this was his daughter, then somewhere there was a real Mrs Benedict. What did he think he was playing at?
‘Not my real daughter, of course,’ he supplied as if reading her thoughts. ‘Katie was my sister’s child. She and her husband were killed in a road accident and Katie was the only survivor.’
Tears blurred Eden’s vision. ‘Poor little mite. How old was she when they died? I mean, I don’t want to pry or anything, but——’
‘But you need to know about her in order to play your part,’ he cut in before she could finish. He joined her on the couch and lifted the folder from her hands. His expression softened as he studied the photo and she wondered at the change in him. Where was the ruthless, uncaring dictator now?
The expression was gone in an instant, replaced by a hard, cold mask which chilled her to look upon it. ‘My sister married against family advice,’ he told her. ‘When her husband found out that she had no money of her own other than an income from shares I’d given her in my company, what love there was soon died. By then Julie was pregnant with Katie and she stayed for the sake of her child.’
Eden touched his hand lightly. ‘You don’t have to tell me any more.’
His bleak expression raked her. ‘I don’t, but I shall, so you know exactly how things are with me. A wife would know, wouldn’t she?’
But a real wife, not a play-acting one, she thought painfully. It occurred to her that perhaps there weren’t many people he could take into his confidence. With his knowledge of her own personnel file, she was hardly likely to betray his confidence, so he felt safe telling her the facts. With a feeling of emptiness, she nodded.
He linked his hands behind his head and stared at the ocean beyond the window. ‘Julie endured it as long as she could but her husband’s womanising got too much to ignore. Eight months ago, she telephoned me to say she was leaving him. She and Katie were to stay with me until she decided their future.’
A lump rose in Eden’s throat. Was it his sister’s experience which had soured him on the idea of marriage? ‘What happened?’ she asked softly.
‘Her husband followed them in his own car, finally forcing them off the road. The roads were wet. Both cars rolled, killing their drivers. Katie was strapped into the back seat of Julie’s car and they were able to get her out with only minor scratches.’
‘How horrible,’ Eden said, wanting to cry. ‘Is Katie all right now?’
‘She has occasional nightmares about the crash but I’ve tried to give her as normal a home life as possible. I moved to a house along Nutgrove Beach where she seems to have settled down.’
The area was one of the most exclusive residential parts of Hobart, only a few minutes’ drive from the city centre. ‘Who takes care of her while you’re away from home?’
‘Our housekeeper, Ellen. She worked for Julie before the tragedy, and has known Katie since she was born, so it’s an ideal arrangement.’
Slade as a family man, with an adopted daughter, was so at odds with her perceptions of him that she felt confused. ‘You must love Katie very much to do all that for her,’ she speculated.
‘That’s the trouble,’ he said harshly. ‘I don’t know. I’m still getting used to this father business.’
Eden sat up, hugging her knees close to her chest, unaware of how youthful the pose made her look. ‘Why did you decide to adopt her if fatherhood is so unappealing?’
‘I didn’t say it was unappealing.’
‘Your tone did.’
Irritation furrowed his brow. ‘You’re right. I never wanted the domestic package of a wife and two-point-five children. I had my parents’ and Julie’s marriage to prove that it doesn’t work. But I couldn’t abandon my own sister’s child.’
Anger rose in Eden, coiling tightly in her chest until she had to say what was on her mind. ‘Well, no wonder you don’t enjoy fatherhood with that attitude. Katie’s probably well aware that she’s a duty to you.’
‘I’ve never allowed her to know how I feel.’
‘You don’t have to. Children know when they’re loved and wanted.’
His thunderous expression should have warned her she’d gone too far. ‘As far as I’m aware, you’re no expert on the subject of marriage and children, unless you lied about them, too.’
‘I didn’t lie. It was a stupid misunderstanding which got out of hand.’ Without telling him the whole story, she couldn’t convince him that she had allowed the error to stand out of the purest motives.
‘Before coming to work for you, I spent some time as a teacher’s aide in a kindergarten. I thought about getting a certificate in early childhood education.’ Until the need to earn a living had ruled out the required years of study, she thought ruefully.
‘But corporate communications promised bigger rewards and a fast track to the top.’ He put his own interpretation on the facts.
She shook her head until her hair haloed around her head. ‘It may look that way, but it wasn’t why I gave up teaching. I loved being around the little ones. They’re so eager to learn, so fascinated by the newness of the world.’
He took in her shining eyes and heightened colour. ‘You sound like perfect mother material. When are you going to get off the career ladder and have some of your own?’
Pain knifed through her until she jumped to her feet. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she threw at him and flung herself through the door into her bedroom, where she leaned against the door, her chest aching with unshed tears.
His fist pounded on the door, sending