Читать книгу The Billionaire's Fake Engagement / Man From Stallion Country - Robyn Grady - Страница 14

Alex insisted on taking his car. He thumbed the vendor’s street into the GPS and a short time later pulled the gleaming black sports car into the exclusive address.

Natalie depressed a remote button and, like curtains introducing a spectacular stage, the colossal iron gates fanned open. Tall pencil pines stood guard on either side of a long paved drive, and immaculate gardens greeted them with stunning spring bouquets. At the far end of an emerald lawn resided a magnificent rendered building.

The Quinton mansion.

Parking beneath the enormous front portico, its columns twined with lemon bougainvillea, Alex slid out from the driver’s side and swung open her door. Stepping out, she scanned the interior. The air smelled of sweet floral perfume and generations of money.

“The owners are visiting the U.S.,” she told him in a professional tone. “They’re eager to sell.”

She felt his gaze on her, moving over her hair, down her limbs, leaving a glorious blistering heat in its wake.

Brushing down her dress, she willed the telltale fire from her cheeks. They hadn’t spoken during the drive here but she’d felt the force of Alex’s concentration as he’d negotiated the Sydney streets. He’d been formulating a foolproof plan to get what he wanted.

But she wasn’t a fool anymore, even where Alexander was concerned.

“The reporters have been onto you this morning,” he said.

She sighed. So it begins.

She moved ahead, up the broad stone steps that led to a pristine slate veranda. “The house has six large bedrooms, all with private sitting rooms and imported marble bathrooms—”

“They’ve been onto me, too.”

“—as well as two offices, a home theatre, an indoor pool along with outdoor swimming facilities, including sauna and ten-person hot tub—”

“I have an idea.”

She spun on him. “So do I. It entails getting back to my office and diving into some real work.”

His dark eyes sparkled in the dappled sunlight. “So you’re curious.”

The stern look slipped from her face, but damned if she’d grin back. “You’re incorrigible.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” His arm went out to bring her close but she dodged and headed toward the double front doors.

She turned the lock and stepped into a grand vestibule while Alex’s voice came again from behind. “The publicity hype will only get worse.”

She’d weather it. After Alex retracted his engagement statement, she’d simply keep her head down. Get on with her life. And never, ever become so involved with any man again. Not that any man could compare with Alexander.

An unnerving sensation seared the pit of her belly and she set her briefcase on the marble tiles resolutely.

Don’t think about the future. One step at a time. One day at a time.

But Alex wasn’t giving up. “We could work with the publicity rather than against it.”

Standing beneath an authentic French classic chandelier, Natalie angled slowly back. “Are you forgetting where this all started? There’s a woman who’s alone and carrying your baby.”

His eyes glinted. “That’s not been determined.”

“Then perhaps you ought to help organise some tests.”

She hated being snarky, but talk of buying multimillionaire dollar mansions or taking advantage of bad publicity wouldn’t help the situation.

“I spoke with a friend this morning,” Alex said. “Mateo’s a leading OB/GYN.”

Her ears pricked. He’d spoken of Mateo Celeca before. Alex and the doctor had been fast friends since high school.

“After samples are taken from both Bridget and myself, we should have the results of the paternity tests within a week.”

A wave of light-headedness swept over her.

If he was the father of that baby, they, as a couple, really would be over. No more acceding to games like today’s. He would need to be with Bridget Davidson and her baby. No way would Natalie place herself in the middle.

She reclaimed her detached air. “Then it’s going to be an intense week for you,” she said, starting up the stairs.

“With the publicity it will be for you, too…unless we make the best of a bad situation.”

She continued up the staircase.

“From the activity at Phil’s,” he went on, “I’m guessing your office was flooded with calls this morning. Celebrity does that.”

“That’s a steep price for a few leads. And when Phil realizes what’s going on,” that she was wasting her time here because this expedition was merely a way for Alex to get her alone and vulnerable, “I might not have a job.”

“My bet is, after today he’ll give you a big fat bonus.”

Still ascending, she clapped one thigh. “Well, of course! Being involved with a man who is supposedly marrying one woman while another is having his baby is clearly something to endorse.”

“Not everyone believes that two people who aren’t suited to each other should marry for the sake of the child. It’s a recipe for resentment and discord.”

“There’s a lot of old-fashioned folk who believe they should at least try.” The folk back in Constance Plains, for instance. Bunch of small-minded hypocrites.

And, dammit, she wouldn’t think about that, either.

She was halfway up the staircase when, as if by magic, he appeared before her, his powerful frame blocking her path. “And an equal amount of people would say I’m a man of principle for not going back on my word to you.”

Her heart pounded as he loomed over her. He was everything a man should be. A powerhouse of raw conviction and simmering sexuality.

And, she had to remember, he was no longer hers.

“There’s just one teensy problem. We weren’t, aren’t and never will be engaged. It’s a lie.”

“We can turn it into the truth.”

She made an impatient sound then wound up around him. But he clasped her hand and she was tugged back to face his steely gaze.

“I can’t do anything about Bridget’s claim,” he said. “Or that word is out we’re to be married. If I retract that statement now, I’ll look like an even bigger heel.” His brows knitted. “Zhang knows about my grandfather’s less than scrupulous reputation. Yesterday I convinced him that any investment would be safe with me. I told him I was a man of my word.”

“An honourable man who carries through on his promises,” she murmured, continuing his thread and hating that it’d begun to make some kind of sense.

This fake engagement had a business angle? Business implied impartiality, controlled feelings, calculated decisions.

And none of that meant she would go along with it.

“Cute plan,” she offered, “but I’m sure you’re aware of its flaws.”

He nodded grudgingly. “Zhang’s decision might not be affected by this story either way. On the other hand, if that newspaper report has swayed his opinion, perhaps nothing will swing it back. But even if Zhang doesn’t go through with this deal, I’ll have gained something more important.” His foot found the higher stair and he leaned in close. “A wife.”

Her eyes popped.

Wife!

She choked on a disbelieving laugh. “Whoa. Alex, listen to me. We are not engaged.”

Deaf, determined, he dug into his back pocket and presented a small velvet box, then sprang open the lid.

The strength in her legs dissolved. A huge solitaire diamond glittered up at her. She’d never seen a stone that big, that dazzling. That perfect!

A bubble of emotion caught in her throat. She swallowed before it went to her head.

This scenario was all wrong, from beginning to end. She couldn’t be engaged to him. She certainly couldn’t marry him. He was probably the father of another woman’s baby. Even if the tests came back negative, Tallie Wilder wasn’t exactly prime wife material. Not if the man concerned wanted a family.

Alex had made it clear that having a son and heir was a priority, and she couldn’t have another child. He wanted his wife’s reputation to be above reproach. In her hometown, her name was synonymous with scandal.

And there was something else. Alex hadn’t mentioned the reason a couple usually became man and wife. Oh, he desired her, enjoyed her company, treated her like a queen. But he didn’t love her.

A lifetime ago she’d dreamed of love where no sacrifice was too great. Where what mattered above all else was the other person’s feelings, security and trust. She’d imagined knowing the kind of love where forfeiting your most prized possession would be the least you could do if it eased your sweetheart’s pain just a little.

Then she’d lost her baby as well as any emotion, other than grief and regret. Having known Alexander had brought her back to life. She still believed in that unique kind of love, maybe even for herself. She certainly wouldn’t marry without it.

But while she felt sure Alex would make a wonderful, committed father, she wasn’t certain he was capable of that kind of unconditional affection where a woman was concerned. To a shrewd man like Alex, deep romantic love would equal vulnerability, Samson and Delilah style. She had only to remember how coolly he’d relayed the standards he’d accept in a wife, or his suggestion a moment ago that they follow through with the engagement primarily because of business, to be sure of that.

He wanted the ideal wife and mother and he’d chosen her. What a joke.

Needing to escape—needing to breathe—she jogged back down the stairs. “Alex, don’t do this.”

“Because you had a more romantic offer in mind?”

Her heels clicking again on the vestibule tiles, she made a beeline for the door and tried to dissuade him with what was clear. “We’ve known each other three months.”

“I’m looking forward to getting to know each other more.”

If he knew about her pregnancy, he’d be running rather than chasing. That night six years ago still haunted her. The thought of dredging up all those hopeless, horrible feelings, then having him walk out, made her insides churn enough to retch.

Why couldn’t he simply forget this crazy plan? Why wouldn’t he accept her decision?

“I won’t go along with a fabricated engagement to prove you’re a man of your word.”

“Then do it for the obvious reason. Because we belong with each other.”

He didn’t know what he was talking about. How could he belong with a woman who couldn’t bear children? She might as well not be a woman at all.

The finality of that knowledge hit again, winding her like a medicine ball to the stomach. She stopped at the door, one hand on the doorjamb, the other on her midriff while tears filled her throat.

At her back, two hands cupped her shoulders as his hard frame pressed in.

“Carino, would it be so bad being married to me?”

She swallowed back emotion. “That’s not the question you should be asking.”

“Then what?”

Her throat thickened more. “You could very well be the father of that baby and you don’t know?”

His fingers clamped her shoulders more before his hands lowered.

“There’s more to this, isn’t there?” he asked, and she froze.

Did he know something about her past?

“I think I understand,” he ground out, “and I admit it might not be what you’d hoped for in a marriage…regularly caring for another woman’s child as if it were your own.”

Natalie blinked several times and slowly turned. Her voice was an incredulous whisper.

“You’d want me to help look after the baby?”

Engagements, marriage…she hadn’t thought ahead to visitation or shared custody if the baby was his. She shouldn’t now because what he proposed was impossible. She’d already inadvertently caused the death of one child. She shouldn’t be responsible for another baby, even part-time.

A palm against her sick stomach, she shook her head again. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

His eyes dimmed more. “You don’t like children?”

“I adore them.”

“You don’t think you could love a child that’s not yours?”

Oh Lord. “That’s not the problem.”

Finding her hands, he clasped them to his chest. “We’ll have our own children.”

Her throat ached so much, she could barely find her voice. “And that’s what you want, isn’t it Alexander?” What you need. A son. An heir.

“Do you know what I want?” His dark penetrating eyes searched hers. “I want you.”

She let go that breath.

He’d said want, not love, two totally different things.

But if she accepted this proposal, she would be a part-time mother of a child. Alexander Ramirez’s child. She’d given up all hope…

Her heart squeezed.

She shouldn’t even think such a thing. And just where would a marriage to Alex leave the unwed mother? Surely Bridget Davidson would want to marry the father of her child, particularly when the man concerned was Alexander.

And what of his suggestion that they have children of their own? Impossible.

Pressing the heel of her hand against her pulsing temple, she tried to think straight. There seemed a thousand ways this could go, but with only one likely outcome.

Someone would be hurt.

She shook her head, harder this time. “It won’t work.”

“Give me one good reason.”

Everything. “It’s all…too big of a gamble.”

“Life’s a gamble.”

She sighed.

How would he react if he knew he’d proposed to a woman who was considered trailer trash back home? Who’d fallen pregnant then had inadvertently caused a miscarriage. Lump on top of that the fact she was now barren and he’d hit the jackpot in women not to marry.

He wanted her?

He wanted only what she’d been willing to show of herself to the world.

He changed the subject.

“What’s your opinion on this house?” he asked, looking around.

Preoccupied by her thoughts, her reply was an automatic response. “I think it’s a stunning investment that will only increase in value.”

“You’d live here?”

“A sheikh would be happy living here.”

“Then contact the owners.”

Stunned, she stared at him. “That’s crazy.”

“You told me this is a good investment.”

“Haven’t you heard? Real estate agents aren’t known for their integrity,” she said pointedly.

His gaze intensified. “I shouldn’t trust you?”

A strange calm fell over her and she knew if she told him about her past now, everything would change in an instant. He could do way better. He just didn’t know it yet.

And the more sensible part of her—the part that adored him—didn’t want him to know.

“And if I said you shouldn’t trust me?” she asked.

“Then I’d have to go with gut instinct.”

She didn’t have time to think, to move. His strong arms were already around her, drawing her near, holding her against the pillar of the wholly masculine frame. The tips of their noses touching, he looked into her eyes, into her soul. She saw a fire flicker in their depths, then that familiar hunger and conviction leap and darken the irises more.

Time wound down as his mouth descended over hers. Her lips parted and then…

Then she was released. Or was that condemned? As he pressed closer, his tongue edging over and around hers, the kernel of desire low at her core condensed more, pulsing, burning, urging her to surrender reason and simply be.

When he gradually drew away, his eyelids were heavy, his breathing, too.

“I don’t regret my slip last night to that reporter,” he said, “because it crystallised in my mind what I want. I want a home, Natalie. It’s time I settle down. We’re good together. It can work.”

She had to push him away. Tell him now how blind and mulish he was. Instead her fingers kneaded his chest.

“Don’t do this.” He was making her head spin, working his charm until she barely knew which way was up.

His shoulders rolled back. “Wear my ring.”

Since the day they’d met, her life had seemed surreal. Men of Alexander Ramirez’s calibre didn’t inhabit her world, not the world of backwoods Tallie Wilder, anyway. When her baby had gone to Heaven that night, she’d given up on herself. She hadn’t wanted happiness. She hadn’t deserved it.

And yet how could she deny what she felt for Alexander? He helped fill that bleak cold hole inside her. When she was with him it was as if the shroud she’d worn for six years was, in part, removed.

Her more rational side knew there could be no engagement. The baby would be his and when he laid eyes on his child, Alex’s protective nature would win out and he would want to marry Bridget. Be with his child. And if Bridget needed persuading, he’d do that, too. How could she—the ‘other woman’—condemn them? Natalie only wished it was her.

“Phone the owners.”

She blinked back from her thoughts. He was still on about the house.

“It’s getting late now in Chicago,” she told him.

“I doubt they’ll mind having their dinner disturbed.”

She gauged the tilt of his mouth.

Hell, he was really serious. And if he truly wanted this house, she shouldn’t talk him out of it. There would simply be a different mistress living here than the one he imagined now.

But, given her shaky state, how well would she conduct an overseas call that potentially meant many thousands of dollars in commission for Phil’s?

She studied his implacable expression again and sighed.

Guess she’d find out.

Twenty minutes later, the delighted vendors agreed to Alex’s negotiated eight point seven-five million offer and had said to fax through the documents to their lawyer.

Thrilled, and a little shocked, Natalie slipped her cell phone into her briefcase. “That has to be the easiest sale I’ve ever made.”

“And now I’d like to see the rest of my investment.”

Her eyebrow lifted. “A little back to front.”

“Whatever works.”

Given she’d made a healthy commission and the Quintons were ecstatic, she couldn’t argue. She’d simply need to put the other, unrealistic matter out of her mind. Engagements, the possibility of being a part-time mother…

It wasn’t happening.

Gathering herself, she waved toward the back of the house. “Let’s start with the kitchen.”

“I’m not a cook. I want to see upstairs.”

He purposely brushed past and started up the stairs.

She tightened her lips. Damned if she’d give him the satisfaction of arguing. Irrespective of any ulterior motive he might have, she was acting as the Quinton’s agent. She had to comply and show the new owner the second story. No matter what he threw at her, no matter what he said or did, she must remain professional.

When they reached the top of the stairs, she kicked off her commentary.

“There’s four bedrooms on this floor, each with their own sitting room. There are two more bedrooms downstairs as well as a separate quarters on the grounds for live-in staff.”

He was ducking his head around a bedroom doorway. “This looks nice.”

Natalie followed. The guest room. Her favourite room.

“It was newly decorated before the Quintons left for overseas.” She was drawn by the smell of freshly laid carpet and breathtaking scenery visible beyond the fall of exquisitely designed pelmets and drapes. “These views are as stunning as the main bedroom’s.” In fact, better, she thought. “You can see the bridge from here, the long blue stretch of harbour. And the breeze through these windows when they’re open—”

A click sounded at her back. Her stomach fluttered and she swung around.

The door was shut and Alex was strolling toward her, his step deliberate. The gait of a man in no doubt about what he wants or to what lengths he’ll go to attain it.

Natalie slid back one foot. “Alex, what are you doing?”

“The contract, once signed, is unconditional. This house, this bedroom, is as good as mine.”

Quivering at the hungry gleam in his eye, she backed up more. “This is inappropriate.”

“That’s an interesting word. I’d have said inevitable.”

Of course she’d known he’d planned this ambush of sorts. However, “If you think I’ll let you undress me, here, in the middle of the day—”

“And make love to you long and hard?” He undid a shirt button. “Yes, carino, I think you’ll let me.”

The back of her legs hit the bed. He joined her and, without invitation, pulled the single clip from her hair then unzipped the back of her dress. Her more rational side silently protested, but she didn’t stop him. Simply stated, at her most basic level, she wanted this and Alexander knew it as well as she did.

“You honestly don’t have any shame, do you.”

He peeled the dress from her shoulders. “Not where you’re concerned.”

He kissed her deeply and when her mind was wheeling, he skimmed his mouth down her neck, her cleavage, until his teeth grazed the gauzy fabric of her lace crop top bra. She bit back a cry as her nipples hardened against his mouth and her dress fell in a puddle at her feet.

His fingers wound into the scarlet lace and, in one fluid movement, he stripped the top up over her head. With obvious appreciation, he took time to study her breasts, weighing their fall as the pads of his thumbs brushed and teased the tips. When his head lowered again and his tongue twirled over one burning nipple, then the next, she sighed and her neck rocked back.

She was on fire.

Eyes drifting shut, she held his head in place. “Is the door locked?”

“No.”

He sucked the sensitive bead fully into his mouth and a searing fountain fizzed through her veins. Still, her gaze edged toward the door.

“This doesn’t feel right.”

“Liar.” As if he owned her—and at that moment he did—he scooped his hand down the front of her lace hipster shorts. “We always feel right together.”

His other hand supporting her spine, he tipped her back and she sank into the silky spread. One knee on the mattress, he took hold of her last item of clothing. His absorbed gaze travelled all the way up her perpendicular legs to her pointing toes as he eased her hipsters off.

He brought her feet down and set them on the mattress a little apart. When a feather-light kiss brushed her inside thigh, she involuntarily bucked and whimpered.

She felt so alight. And exposed.

“At least draw the curtains.”

He chuckled, a deep throated sound that let her know he was enjoying her show of modesty.

“You know I love your body. The way you feel, the way you look.” The warm tip of his tongue trailed across her bikini line. “The way you taste.”

When his mouth dipped more and he kissed her there, tenderly at first then more boldly, she arched and reached to knot her fingers in his hair.

He knew her weakness. Knew how to make her fly.

She hadn’t had many lovers, but she knew enough to be certain his style was natural, a talent that was as innate as soaring and hunting were to a hawk. When he touched her, loved her, her cares evaporated into mist. Where they were didn’t matter. She only longed to feel his hard heat pressed close.

She wove her fingers through his silky hair. “When are you going to take your clothes off and join me?”

His only reply was the skilled attention of his circling tongue.

She sighed.

No one had a right to be this good.

The spiral climbed quickly and she wet her lips. “Alex…come up here.”

His hands wove up her stomach and sculpted over her breasts, his thumbs and forefingers rolling until the concentrated sensations were so bright and powerful she could have wept. Her head lolling to the side, she groaned as her core compressed tighter around a deepening pulse.

Then, for two suspended beats, there was that eye-of-the-storm calm before her climax ignited and flung her to the stars. Biting her lip to stem a cry, she gripped the quilt at her sides as her mind and body exploded with raw pleasure that seemed to go on forever.

When finally the contractions wavered and began to die, drained, elated, tingling and never more sated, she didn’t have the energy to move. She was barely aware that he’d left her until she dragged open her eyes.

He stood watching her, telling her with his eyes that she was his. Only his.

She held out her arms to him. He kicked off his shoes, discarded his clothes and extracted a condom from his wallet. When they were protected, he threw back half the quilt and scooped her up in his arms.

“This will be our room,” he said, laying her on the cool sheet and nuzzling into the sweep of her neck.

When his body covered hers, she jumped, still so sensitive as he slid partway in and began to move.

He pressed a lingering kiss to her brow. “You will wear my ring.”

Looping her legs around his thighs, she ran her fingertips over the hot damp mound of his back. “I can’t think now.”

“I don’t want you to think. I want you to feel.”

He thrust again, bumping her closer to a second orgasm. “My ring, Natalie.”

Whether it was his bone-melting heat sliding against her or the dark-chocolate voice at her ear, in that moment he convinced her. This was their house, their new beginning. She did feel, and she felt wonderful. So utterly right she was dizzy with the magic of it.

She groaned as that spiral rose higher, squeezed tighter.

“Yes,” she murmured.

Please, just…

Yes.

His mouth slanted over hers.

As fireworks flared again, she held him close and let the tidal wave swallow them both whole.