The Replacement Wife (15 page)

“You worked too hard at Whitney Media,” she said.
“For
Whitney Media.” He turned to look at her, and her breath caught as it always did, because he was far too beautiful, far too dangerous. And his eyes glittered like jewels. She faltered for a moment, but then blinked and remembered herself. “Why would you give that up now? When it could have finally been yours the way you wanted it?”

He stood there, big and dark against the window, and he made her legs feel weak, her breasts feel full. And in the core of her, as ever, she melted.

“Simple,” he said. “I want you more.”

How could she keep shattering? When there could be nothing left to break into pieces?

“No one chooses me,” she said, her voice a thick, uneven rasp. “I’m the second best, the fill-in. And you. you’re the kind of man who would never be satisfied with anything but the real thing.”

“The real you, Becca,” he said, moving toward her. “I want the real you.”

“But you can’t.” She couldn’t get her head around it. She couldn’t let herself believe it. “You can’t.”

“I do,” he said, and then he lifted her into his arms, and pressed his mouth to hers.

The heat of it exploded through her. Fire and fury, and all of it ripe with joy. A terrible, impossible joy—but she found that now that she was in his arms again, she couldn’t seem to fight it. She could only taste him, again and again, and it was not enough. It was never enough.

She pulled away to peer up into his face, and what she saw there made her tremble. So much need. So much fire. And beyond that, the love. Fierce and uncompromising, and this time, she had no doubt at all that it was really her he wanted, and not the woman she happened to resemble.

Because he’d had that woman, and he’d let her go. And now he was here. With Becca, not with the object of all his fantasies across the years. Even she couldn’t manage to make that less than it was.

And so slowly, carefully, Becca began to let herself believe. To hope where she had previously only doubted. It felt like sunlight, creeping in through the smallest of cracks, changing her from within.

“I am unemployed and no doubt blacklisted by one of the most powerful companies in the world,” he said, settling his hands at her shoulders, pulling her even closer to him, so that her breasts met the hard wall of his chest. “This is how I’ve come to tell you that I love you, that I want to marry you, that there can be no other ending to this story.”

She let the dizziness move through her, as she processed words that she’d never let herself hope to hear
from him, and then she smiled, and she felt it all the way to her toes.

“Too bad I’m now a Whitney heiress,” she said. “It does rather take away from your great sacrifice.”

“I love you,” he said again, more seriously. “It’s all hollow and pointless without you.”

“I know,” she whispered, tears falling once again, wetting her cheeks, but this time, from too much joy. Too much hope. She let them fall unchecked. “I love you, too.”

Much later, they lay naked and entwined in the wide hotel bed, just as he preferred them to be, still basking in the glow of their reunion. With each touch, each kiss, Theo could see the way she changed. Hope. Belief. Love. She was wary, he thought, but she was his. And he was a very patient man when he chose to be.

And with Becca, he could be the man he’d meant to be all along. With Becca, he could finally be himself.

“You walked away from a fortune,” she said, tracing idle patterns on his chest and smiling. “For me.”

“I did,” he said. He had never felt this completeness, this certainty. He had never loved before. He was not sure he’d even wanted to, and so he’d chosen a fantasy instead. But now. Now he had the rest of his life to love this woman, and to be worthy of her love in return. All of it undeniably real. He grinned down at her. “But never fear, my love. I am Theo Markou Garcia. I’ll make another fortune. It’s what I do.”

All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.

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First published in Great Britain 2011
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of Harlequin (UK) Limited,
Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR

© Caitlin Crews 2011

ISBN: 978-1-408-92588-1