Free The Tycoon's Bought Fiancée by Sandra Marton Page B

Paul was kind, and caring; he’d always been there for her, when she was little. No one else had been. Not her father, whom she’d never known. Not her mother, who’d wandered out of her children’s lives like a wisp of smoke.
    And not Avery. God, certainly not Avery.
    Stephanie put her back to the window and looked down blindly into the cup of rapidly cooling coffee cradled between her palms. Avery, with his talk of being the father she’d never had. With his compassionate gifts—the food basket on Thanksgiving, the visits to the specialists for Paul, the big box of books she’d hungered for but couldn’t afford to buy. And then the greatest gift of all, the one she’d believed would be the start of a better life, for her and for Paul…a year’s tuition for Miss Carol’s Secretarial School.
    â€œIt’s too much, Mr. Willingham,” Stephanie had said. “I can’t let you do this.”
    â€œSure you can, darlin’.” Avery had put a beefy arm around her shoulders in fatherly fashion. “You learn to type, take dictation, an’ I’ll give you a job, workin’ for me.”
    Working for him, Stephanie thought, and shuddered.
    Oh, how he’d hooked her. Set out a lure she couldn’t resist and reeled her in like a fish all ready for the skillet.
    How could she have been so naive? So stupid? So pathetically, painfully dumb?
    Not that the answers mattered anymore. It was true, fate had intervened. Paul had become more and more withdrawn but still, it was she who’d agreed to make a contract with the devil.
    There was no one to blame but herself…
    Just as she was to blame for what had happened two weeks ago, on what should have been a pleasant, peaceful Sunday afternoon.
    Stephanie shut her eyes against the humiliating memory. That she’d let a stranger do those things to her—that she’d let any man do those things to her—was inconceivable. None of it made sense. She knew what men were and what they wanted. What they always wanted, whether they were old and fat, like Avery, or young and handsome, like David Chambers.
    Sex. That was what men wanted. And sex was—it was…
    Stephanie shuddered again, despite the warmth of the morning sun on her shoulders. Sweat. Grasping hands. Hot breath on your face and wet lips smothering you, and the feel of bile rising in the back of your throat…
    Except, it hadn’t been like that with David. When he’d kissed her. Touched her. Cupped her breast and made her moan. She could still remember the taste of him, the feel of his mouth, warm against hers, his kiss hinting at pleasures she’d never imagined…
    â€œMissus Willingham?”
    Stephanie spun around. Mrs. Cross stood in the doorway. The straw hat she wore for marketing days was on her head; her suitcase was in her hand.
    â€œI’m leavin’,” she said coldly. “Thought I’d let you know.”
    Stephanie nodded. “I understand. I’m sorry I haven’t been able to pay you the last few weeks, but—”
    â€œWouldn’t stay under this roof, money or no money,” the housekeeper said. “Town knows what you are now, missus, what with Mr. Avery fixin’ things for all to see.”
    Coffee sloshed over the rim of Stephanie’s cup and onto her hand, but she didn’t so much as blink.
    â€œI’ll send you a check for what I owe you, Mrs. Cross.” Her voice was clear and steady. She’d be damned— damned —if she’d break down now. “You may have to wait for your money, but you’ll get it all, I promise.”
    â€œDon’t want nothin’ from you, missus.”
    Mrs. Cross turned on her heel and marched off. Stephanie didn’t move as she listened to the housekeeper’s footsteps stomp the length of the marbled hall, but after the front door slammed shut, she pulled a chair out from the table and sank