Kitabı oxu: «The Magnate's Baby Promise / Having The Billionaire's Baby»

The Magnate’s Baby Promise

By

Paula Roe

AND

Having the Billionaire’s Baby

By

Sandra Hyatt

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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The Magnate’s Baby Promise

By

Paula Roe

She wondered if she’d just imagined that night in Sydney, two months ago.

Cal Prescott stood in the doorway, broad and immaculately dressed in a dark grey suit, a chilly gleam in his eyes. Those same eyes had creased with serious concentration as they’d shared hot, wet kisses in the privacy of his penthouse suite. Flared with hunger as he’d slipped her dress from her shoulders—She slammed the door on those memories, barely managing a croak. “Cal.” “Ava.” Cal’s voice, a slow burning rasp that had turned her on so quickly, so completely, was the same, but little else was. His face was a study in frozen control, eyes reflecting only an impersonal razor-sharp study as he remained still, somehow dwarfing her kitchen even from the relative safety of the doorway.

She was alone with Cal Prescott. Again.

Despite wanting to be a vet, choreographer, hairdresser, card shark and an interior designer (though not all at once!), PAULA ROE ended up as a personal assistant, office manager, aerobics instructor and software trainer for thirteen years (which also funded her extensive travel through the US and Europe). Today she still retains a deep love of filing systems, stationery and travelling, although the latter is only in her dreams these days. Paula lives near western Sydney’s glorious Blue Mountains with her family, an ancient black cat and a garden full of rainbow lorikeets, magpies and willy wagtails. You can visit her at www.paularoe.com.

Grateful thanks to my wonderful writing group, The Coven, for the hours of brainstorming, encouragement and Saturday morning brunches. Oh, and for letting me immortalize your names in print. I owe you all a large decaf soy caramel latte!

Dear Reader,

Just like my navigation skills, sometimes my stories begin in one place then end up somewhere completely different. This one was no exception. I did know a few things—secret pregnancy, forced marriage, Outback business in trouble—but that’s where the similarities ended. Cal and Ava started with different names and occupations, different pasts and conflict, and even though I loved that story, it just wasn’t the right one for them. And because I never throw my ideas away, the original version is sitting in my filing cabinet, waiting for its time to shine.

It’s exciting to see my first “Outback” story come to fruition. Even though Gum Tree Falls and Jindalee are purely fictional, I did do some research in and around far western NSW where Ava grew up (no hardship—it’s gorgeous country). Creative license is a beautiful thing, so I renovated “The Toaster”—the controversial but expensive apartment block at Sydney’s Circular Quay—into a very tall, very elegant building where Cal lives. I don’t know about you, but I’d love to have the Quay, Opera House and Royal Botanical Gardens as my daily room with a view!

Come and visit me at www.paularoe.com, where there’s more behind-the-scenes info about The Magnate’s Baby Promise.

With love,

Paula

Chapter One

It’s my company. Mine.

The mantra throbbed in Cal Prescott’s brain until, with a growl of frustration, he slammed his palms on the desk and shot to his feet.

Victor had really done it this time—not only pitting his sons against each other for the ultimate prize of VP Tech but demanding an heir in the bargain. With a sharp breath Cal whirled to study the panoramic view of Sydney’s Circular Quay and Botany Bay below, the gun-metal arch of Sydney Harbour Bridge nestled comfortably in the foreground. The unusually sunny June morning did nothing to smooth his anger; Victor’s trademark directness still smouldered away in his gut.

You must both marry and produce an heir. The first one to do so gets the company.

Zac, his stepbrother, didn’t deserve VP Tech. He was Victor’s real flesh and blood, yes, but the younger man had turned his back on them years ago. It was Cal who’d stuck with family, who had put in the long hours, steadily growing the business until his One-Click office software package had finally cracked the biggest seller spot in Australia last year.

Cal Prescott didn’t walk away. Ever. He’d put every waking hour, every drop of sweat into his stepfather’s company. Damned if he’d let it slip through his fingers now.

With long-legged strides he stalked over to a discreet wall panel and jabbed a button to reveal a well-stocked bar. He smoothly poured himself a glass of whiskey, neat.

Making money, proving himself, had been an all-consuming desire for so long he barely remembered a time he hadn’t lived and breathed it. And with every million he’d made, every deal he’d brokered, he could’ve sworn he’d seen pride on Victor’s craggy face, felt the rush of approval when the gruff, emotionally spare man imparted brief praise. Obviously he was good enough to bring in millions but not good enough to be a Prescott, to be automatically entrusted with the legacy of VP Tech.

Unfamiliar bitterness knotted his insides, curled his lip. Victor hadn’t even given him the courtesy of an explanation; he’d simply issued the ultimatum then left on some business trip, leaving Cal to sort through the bombshell’s wreckage.

The phone rang then and Cal sat, grabbing the receiver.

“There’s a woman I’d like you to meet,” Victor said by way of greeting.

Speak of the devil. “You’re back.”

“Yes. You remember Miles Jasper, the Melbourne heart surgeon?”

The sour taste of futility burnt the back of his throat. “No.”

Victor ignored him and continued. “He has a daughter. She’s twenty-seven, blond, attractive and—”

“I don’t give a damn if she’s Miss Universe,” Cal ground out. “I’m not some prize stallion at auction. I may have agreed to this ludicrous arrangement, but I will pick my own wife.” He slammed the phone down with a satisfying crack.

After a long, drawn-out moment he dragged in a controlled breath, slid a sealed envelope from his desk drawer and slowly centred it on the desk with meticulous care.

Thanks to a local investigator and a helpful cabbie, his obsession with the elusive Ava Reilly could now be put to rest.

For the past nine weeks he’d refused to think about her, about that one amazing night, shoving it from his mind with the decisive efficiency he was renowned for. But now, as he let his thoughts wander back to their chance encounter, the walls began to crack.

Long limbs, soft black hair and a pair of bright blue eyes teased his memory. Ava. A movie-star name, one that evoked a woman with poise, elegance. Presence.

She’d gotten under his skin and stayed there, disrupting his thoughts at awkward times—in meetings, with clients. The worst were the early mornings, before the sun rose. Time and again he’d hauled himself from the depths of a hot erotic dream where her mouth had been on his, her lips trailing over his chest, her skin hot and silky beneath his hands. It had left him frustrated and aching with need way too many times.

He’d been determined to forget her, forget what had just been a one-night stand. Ironically, he’d gotten his wish three days ago. Three days since his stepfather had issued his ultimatum, seventy-two hours in which VP Tech had dominated his thoughts and he’d seesawed between dull, throbbing rage and aggravated tension.

With a flick of his wrist, he ripped open the envelope and scanned the report.

After too many broken nights and unfocused days, he’d taken action. Now he steeled himself for reality to shatter the fantasy. She could be married, or engaged. His thoughts darkened. He could’ve been her last fling before she’d settled down to marry her childhood sweetheart—

As his eyes flipped over the paragraphs, his brows took a dive. Ava Reilly owned a bed-and-breakfast in rural western New South Wales.

He reached for his computer mouse, clicked on the Internet connection and typed “Jindalee retreat” in the search engine. Seconds later he was looking at Jindalee’s basic Web page. No wonder she was up to her eyeballs in debt with the bank about to foreclose next month. The place was under-promoted and unremarkable for a simple outback town with less than five hundred people.

He went back to the report, skimming over her finan-cials until he got to the summary of her weekly errands. Cal snorted. That PI was thorough, he’d give him that.

Approximately eight weeks pregnant.

“What the hell?”

Office walls suddenly closed in on him, tight and airless, forcing Cal to take a deep gulp.

In one sharp movement, he crushed the offending paper and hurled it across his office, where it hit the wall with a soft thud. No. No way. Not again.

A shuddering breath wracked through him as shock stiffened every muscle. He’d had that, once. A baby. His baby. A child to follow in his footsteps, to nurture and love. To shower with his wealth and experience and to ensure the past was never repeated. He’d been ecstatic when Melissa had told him. Vulnerable.

Stupid.

She’d faked everything and he’d vowed never to repeat that failure again.

But this…this changed everything.

He tightened his jaw, teeth grinding together. After making mad, passionate love, Ava had run like a thief in the night. If not for those black bikini knickers he’d found tangled in the sheets, it could have all been just a delicious, erotic dream.

His thoughts spun out of control, fed by heated memories. And as he recalled every sigh, every touch, his shock morphed into something more sinister. Swiftly his mind clicked through options. Chance encounter or deliberate? Perhaps part of a calculated blackmail plan?

His harsh laugh exploded in the quiet office. If the child was his, it provided a neat solution to all his problems.

He slammed down his glass then picked up the phone. “Jenny—arrange for a car and inform the airstrip I’ll be flying within the hour.”

Replacing the receiver with deliberate slowness he stood, a low curse softly rumbling across his lips.

His baby.

Shards of intense possessiveness stabbed, threatening to choke off his air. If Ava thought he’d pay up and stay out of her life, she was very much mistaken. Every single day, in the midst of everything he’d attained, who he was and where he’d come from were never far from his mind. And no long-legged, dark-haired seductress with wide blue eyes would compromise his beliefs.

With gnawing apprehension, Ava realized she had to face facts—Jindalee was spiralling into a money pit and she had no way of stopping it.

She sighed, eyeing the final notices spread before her on the kitchen table. Absently she ran a frustrated hand over the tangle of hair that had slipped from its ponytail. She’d been certain people would jump at the chance to spend time at a real get-away-from-it-all rural retreat, so certain she’d sunk all her parents’ insurance money into the venture. She’d converted the homestead into a reception and dining area, built a five-cabin extension and refurbished the kitchen.

All to emphasise her spectacular downfall.

Her rooms were empty most weekends and she didn’t have the money or experience to keep on advertising. Despite her fierce determination to ignore the town gossips, she knew they’d feed on this until her belly started to grow, and then the Gum Tree Falls grapevine would be buzzing anew with “have you heard the latest on Ava Reilly?”

With burning cheeks she stood, eased out the kink in her back and took a deep breath. Tentatively, she placed a hand on her still-flat stomach.

A baby. Hers.

Wonder and shock tripped her breath, adding a shaky edge to the inhale. She tried to swallow but tears welled in her eyes. Quickly, she dashed them away. She hadn’t gone looking for a one-night stand, yet the stranger had commanded her eyes the instant he’d settled on the bar stool next to hers at Blu Horizon, an exclusive cocktail lounge at Sydney’s Shangri-La Hotel. He’d radiated confidence and wealth as if powered by some inner sun, from every thread of his sharply tailored black suit to the closely cropped, almost military haircut. Yet there was something more, something a little vulnerable beneath that chiselled face, all angles and shadow.

It was only after she’d snuck back to her girlfriend’s place at 2:00 a.m. that she’d discovered the real identity of the man who’d rocked her world. Mr. One-Click, heir apparent to the great Victor Prescott’s vast technology empire. Cal Prescott’s computer software had recently become number one in national sales. Hell, she’d just upgraded her office computer with the latest version.

She snorted at the irony. Cal Prescott was one of the richest men under thirty-five, a man who regularly dated supermodels and socialites. He was a man who avoided emotional entanglements, who revelled in his bachelor lifestyle. If working long hours and staying single was an Olympic event, he’d have a cupboard full of gold medals.

It was a good thing you left. A smart choice. The right choice. Still, a tiny doubt niggled. How could she single-handedly bring a baby into her life, a debt-ridden life to which she could add the grim possibility of being homeless, too?

She’d wavered between absolute joy and utter despair a million times this past week. And every time she always returned to one realization: fate. Karma. Destiny. Whatever it was called, the universe was telling her that despite everything, this baby was meant to be.

Ava Rose, life never throws anything your way you’re not capable of handling. Her mother’s favourite phrase teased her mouth into a too-brief smile before the familiar throb of loss hit. She let it sit there for a second before shoving it aside. Death and tragedy hadn’t defeated her before. A new life wouldn’t now.

She dropped her hands to the table and gathered up the papers. The pity party’s over. It was time to take action and get her life back on track. Somehow.

“Doing your paperwork, I see.”

Ava whirled, her brain tingling at the sound of that oh-so-delicious voice. A millisecond later, her stomach fell to the floor.

Cal Prescott stood in the doorway, broad and immaculately dressed in a dark grey suit, a chilly gleam in his eyes. Those eyes, once so intensely passionate, now so cold and distant that she wondered if she’d just imagined that night in Sydney two months ago. Those same eyes had creased with serious concentration as they’d shared hot, wet kisses in the privacy of his Shangri-La Hotel penthouse suite. Flared with hunger as he’d slipped her dress from her shoulders—

She slammed the door on those memories, barely managing a croak. “Cal.”

“Ava.” Cal’s voice, a slow-burning rasp that had turned her on so quickly, so completely, was the same, but little else was. His face was a study in frozen control, eyes reflecting only an impersonal, razor-sharp study as he remained still, somehow dwarfing her kitchen even from the relative safety of the doorway.

She was alone with Cal Prescott. Again.

The air thickened, heavy with expectation. A warm throb started up between her legs as she swallowed a single desperate groan.

“What…” She croaked then cleared her throat. “What are you doing here?”

His lip curled but he said nothing, a broad, tense statue intent on letting the moment swirl and grow. She steeled herself as his eyes flickered over her in thorough scrutiny, gathering up her dignity with a smoothing of her wayward hair. Yet his eyes followed those fluttery movements until she firmly jammed her hands in her back pockets.

He snorted, a sound so full of contempt that Ava took a cautious step backwards.

“Are you pregnant with my child?”

Ava grabbed the edge of the kitchen counter, reeling from the blow. How could he know? She’d barely had time to get used to it herself. She’d driven into Parkes for an over-the-counter test, then followed up at a free clinic. She’d told no one, not even Aunt Jillian.

She opened her mouth but nothing came out. Like an idiot she just stood there, blinking in shock.

“Who…how..?” She finally managed.

“Do not play the innocent, Ava.” His eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening imperceptibly. “Now answer me.”

The subtle threat behind his silky words, the fury reflected in every tightened muscle, was all too clear. Ava felt her cheeks flush and just like that, she snapped.

“Do you think I planned this? I didn’t even know who you were until after I—” she paused.

“Ran away?” He finished, his eyes way too perceptive.

She crossed her arms, refusing to let him see he’d struck a nerve. Yet her mind raced a million miles an hour until something finally clicked. “That’s why you’re here. You think I want money from you.” Bile rose in her throat, acrid and burning. “Get out of my kitchen,” she ground out.

“I’m not going anywhere. Is the baby mine?”

For one heartbeat, she seriously considered lying, but just as quickly rejected it. Apart from the fact she was a terrible liar, she wouldn’t. Not about something this important. So with fear of the unknown fluttering in her belly, she slowly nodded. “Yes, Cal. It’s yours.”

He paused. “A paternity test will prove it.”

“Yes,” she said firmly. “It will.”

His cold mask cracked, morphing into an expression so raw that she had to take a step back from the intensity.

He strode to her, the distance between them evaporating into an excruciating invasion of her comfort zone. He was Cal Prescott, and he was there, right there and amazingly, the urge to touch him, to smell him, thundered through her senses. She wanted to melt right into his very bones until she couldn’t tell where she finished and he started.

Anger poured off him, slamming into her, breaking through her thoughts. Then with a soft curse he abruptly whirled, shoving a hand through his hair, leaving short, tufted peaks in its wake. Hair that emphasised his ruthlessly angular face and framed those rich brown eyes to perfection. It was a face so achingly distant, one that screamed control and power in every muscle, every line.

“What do you want?” He demanded now, pinning her with sharp intensity.

Instinctively she placed a hand over her belly, which only succeeded in drawing his attention. Abruptly she shoved her hands back in her jean pockets. “From you? Nothing.”

His gaze narrowed. “Don’t lie to me. Not now.”

“I’m not lying! I didn’t even know I was pregnant until a week ago.”

“So that’s the way you’re going to play it.” When he crossed his arms, utterly convinced of her guilt, her frustration ratcheted up.

“I don’t care what you think,” she hissed back. “It’s none of your business!”

He stilled, staring at her, while all around them there was silence, as if the earth itself was awaiting his comeback with bated breath.

Then he smiled. The sheer triumph in that one simple action sent a chilling wave over her skin. It was the smile of a man used to getting his own way, a man who made thousands of million-dollar deals and steamrolled over his detractors. It was a smile that told her he’d won.

Won what?

“You being pregnant with my child is none of my business?” he said now, arching one derisive brow up. “On the contrary. I’ve given this a lot of thought. That child needs a father. We’ll get married.”

Deep below the surface, the bombshell exploded, sending shock waves through Ava’s insides. Oblivious to the aftermath, Cal flipped open a sleek black mobile phone and dialled. “I’ve already applied for a wedding licence and my solicitor will finalise the prenup. I dislike large engagement parties so we’ll skip that, of course. But I have booked dinner at Tetsuya’s with my parents tomorrow night, so—”

Ava finally found her voice. “What are you doing?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you crazy?”

“What?” When he put his hand over the mouthpiece and glared at her like she was some sort of annoying irritation, Ava saw red.

“You can’t force me to marry you!” She jammed her hands on her hips and shouted the last word, anger surging up to scorch her throat.

Slowly, Cal hung up, forcing restraint into every muscle of his body. Her hands fisted on her hips, hips that curved into the worn denim and came this close to being indecent. His eyes travelled upwards, past the ratty shirt that skimmed her waist, the rolled-up sleeves over tanned forearms, to the low neckline that revealed a smooth expanse of throat.

He finally fixed on her face, a face he’d seen in his dreams, deep in the throes of passion. Her silken black hair was half up, half down, the remnants of a ponytail feathering her jaw. A stubborn jaw that was now rigid with fury.

It was the offer of a lifetime, marrying into the Prescott wealth. He may have preempted her blackmail attempt but she’d still be well compensated. What the hell was she ticked off about? Thrown, he glanced at her mouth.

It did him in, seeing that lush mouth again. Gentle creases around her lips denoted a lifetime in the sun, but all he could think about was the softness of that flesh when it had teased and tempted him. How she’d placed hot, searing kisses across his chest, trailed her tongue over his belly before—

With a silent curse, he scowled, which only seemed to anger her.

“I am not marrying you.” She enunciated the words as if he was missing a few brain cells.

He scowled. “Why not?”

Her eyes rounded in incredulity. “Because for one, you don’t tell someone you’re marrying them, you ask them. Second, we don’t even know each other. And third, I don’t want to marry you.”

“I know you need money to save this place. I’m making you an offer.” When she remained silent, he turned the screw a little more. “You get your money and I get a wife.”

Her breath sucked in. “I don’t need your money.”

“Because you’ve got so many other offers, right? Your neighbor…Sawyer?” He lifted his eyebrows mockingly. “He’s mortgaged to the hilt.” As he watched her face drain of color he said flatly, “What, you didn’t know?”

She said nothing, just stared at him with those bright blue eyes full of recrimination.

“The way I see it, you don’t have a choice,” he said now. “I’ll give you until tomorrow to think it through, but we both know your answer.”

Ava was speechless, floored by the depth of his arrogance. “If you care so much, then why not just sue for custody?” she finally whispered. “Why marriage?”

“Because I do not ignore my responsibilities.” His voice tightened in the spacious kitchen. “Did you intend to tell me about this baby at all?”

She quickly drew a hand over her stomach as the blood rushed from her face. She couldn’t think, couldn’t even breathe with his ever-watchful eyes, the lingering scent of his warm skin, the aftermath of his luscious voice in the air all around her. “I…didn’t think you’d want to know. You’re Cal Prescott and—”

“You don’t know what I want.” Fury flickered, working his jaw. “You walked into my life, spent the night, then walked right out again.”

“So this is your way of getting back at me?”

“This is not about you. It’s about a child.” His eyes dropped to her belly, then up again, his expression unreadable. “My child.”

He effectively ended their conversation with a flick of his hand, a white business card between his two fingers. When she didn’t take it he slammed it down on the counter. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Almost as if he couldn’t stand to remain in her presence a second longer, he turned and stalked out the door.

Chapter Two

Ava was still standing in the kitchen, Cal’s card clutched in her cold fingers, when her Aunt Jillian walked in with a handful of grocery bags, a warm smile on her weathered face. “Ava, darling, I thought we could have chicken for—”

“Cal Prescott was just here.”

Jillian put the bags on the table. “The man you met in Sydney?”

“The same.”

Jillian opened the fridge and shoved a block of cheese inside. “Really? Is he interested in staying at Jindalee?”

Ava swallowed. Even though she’d given Jillian the sanitised version, her aunt was a perceptive woman. “Not exactly. Apparently he thinks I’m trying to blackmail him—and with this place teetering on the verge, I can’t say I blame him.”

Jillian whirled, her lined face a mask of shock. “Oh, my. That’s not good.”

Ava sank into a kitchen chair and put her face in her hands. “I don’t believe this. And now he…” She sighed. “Jillian, I have to tell you something. Sit down.”

Jillian kept right on putting away the groceries. “If it’s about you being pregnant, I already guessed.”

Lord, did the whole world know? Ava’s jaw sagged until she snapped it shut with a click. “How? When?”

“You can’t hide a sudden craving for cheese-and-pickle sandwiches. Plus,” she gently reached out and smoothed Ava’s hair, “your hair went curly. Your grandma and I were exactly the same. It’s a Reilly thing.” Jillian quickly enveloped her in a hug. “Darling, are you okay with this?”

“Yes.” With a relieved sigh, Ava let herself sink into the embrace even as her head spun with the last hour’s events. “You’re not upset I’m not married?”

“It’s not the Middle Ages, darling. And I’m not your father,” she added pointedly.

Ava just squeezed Jillian harder. “Cal thinks I did it on purpose,” she muffled against the woman’s soft shoulder. When Jillian pulled back, Ava avoided her aunt’s eyes, unable to face the questions there. “And now he’s demanding we get married.”

Jillian went back to unpacking. “That’s very chivalrous of him, especially in this day and age.”

“No, it’s not! I can’t even begin to list the things wrong with this—we’re complete strangers, we live separate lives, have careers, not to mention what the town would say—”

“Oh, my giddy aunt!” Jillian slammed a can of tomatoes down on the counter. “Your business is about to go under, you’re pregnant by a rich, attractive, single man—a man who wants to do the right thing and marry you—and you’re worried about what a bunch of old busybodies would say?”

Ava stared at her, stunned. Her Aunt Jillian was the most easygoing person she’d ever known. She’d never raised her voice in anger, never blown her top.

“You’re saying I should marry him?” Ava said slowly.

“I’m saying a child has a right to know his father. From what I’ve read, Cal Prescott never knew his.”

“His mother remarried. He has a father.”

“But his birth father ran out. ‘To know the man, at first know the child.’”

“What?”

“Cal Prescott is a man with obvious trust issues, dear, which can make people do extreme things,” Jillian explained as she started unpacking the apples. “I do wish you’d pay attention a bit better.” Her face suddenly softened. “Or are those hormones kicking in already?”

Ava sighed. “It is not hormones. And don’t change the subject.” She leaned back in her chair, her mind tossing and turning. “I just don’t know what to do.”

Jillian rolled her eyes. “You both have something each other wants. So you make a deal.”

“Have you not been listening about the whole blackmail thing? The only thing he wants is the baby.” She laid a protective hand over her belly. “And he’s not getting that.”

“Darling, do you think he’d actually try to take away your child?” Jillian asked with a shake of her head. “Sounds to me the man just wants to be a father. And he can save Jindalee into the bargain. Unless…” she hesitated. “You don’t want Jindalee.”

Ava flushed. Jillian knew her better than anyone, even her own parents. Jindalee land had been in her family for over a hundred years. The sheep station had been her father’s dream, a culmination of hard work and town status. Ava had known from a very early age she was a distant fourth in his affections, streets behind the land, her mother, then her younger sister, Grace. The uncompromising man had often accused her of being too wild, too selfish, too carefree. And she’d proved it in spades at twenty when she’d single-handedly destroyed everything.

Not selfish anymore. She closed her eyes, picturing his silvery head held proud, a dark frown set in a face lined with age and the elements. She’d put her own share of worry lines on that face.

Her eyes shot open when Jillian placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You don’t have to prove anything anymore, Ava,” the older woman said softly. “He’s gone. He loved this land, but—”

“So do I.” It was the simple truth. She loved the gently sloping hills, the craggy gum trees that housed the native corellas and lorikeets. The kangaroos that grazed in the morning mist and the stunning sunsets that spread across the big navy sky. It made her heart expand with joy every day at the sheer beauty of the land. Her land.

“Ava,” Jillian said now, her eyes sympathetic. “It doesn’t have to be so hard. No one will think less of you if you sell.”

“But I would.” Ava stood, walked over to the counter and began washing the apples. She’d not sunk everything into this property just to see it fail. And if Cal was on the level, then she didn’t even have her neighbour’s buyout offer as backup.

Hope bloomed, a tiny thread of light bobbing along a sea of uncertainty. She let it sit there for a couple of seconds until caution doused it. Before she charged into any decision, she had to pin down the details. Cal was offering her a chance to save Jindalee. She might be guilty of many things, but looking a gift horse in the mouth was not one of them. It’d be a cakewalk compared to what she’d already been through.

A cakewalk.

On Saturday at 10:00 a.m., after her two paying customers had checked out, Ava knew she couldn’t stall any longer. She’d called and offered to drive the twenty minutes to Parkes, but Cal had preempted her. Now as she watched from her porch, a brand-new red Calais slowly made its way down the dirt road. It finally stopped in the small designated parking area, directly below the huge gum tree.

Ava took a breath, then another, dragging in the comforting kitchen smells to give her strength—vanilla, coffee and fresh-baked apple pie, aromas that said “welcome, come on in!”—or so she’d read in a decorating magazine.

When Cal finally unfolded himself from the car, she did a double take. She’d expected expensive casual: a polo shirt, sharply pressed pants, imported Italian shoes. But he surprised her in a pair of faded Levi’s, work boots, a brown leather jacket and white cotton T-shirt, the latter hugging like cling wrap, outlining every muscular dip and curve of his chest. Natural command and raw sexuality oozed fromhis every bone andAva couldn’t help but stare.

He stalked purposefully up her steps with a long-legged stride that indicated he’d no place else to be, his dark eyes shuttered and focused squarely on her. She threaded her fingers once then released them and suddenly the air was filled with his warm, spicy scent.

“Ava,” he said, making her name sound sexier than the promise of a hot, wet kiss. Lord, he undid her. Did he remember how in the dark of night, she’d confessed her name on his lips made her want to melt in a puddle at his feet? How he’d sensuously turned that confession against her and sent her body into a whimpering frenzy with every word, every whisper?

She quickly turned and walked in the kitchen door, but not before she caught his mouth twitch for one brief second. She groaned inwardly. He remembered.

Thankful that the warm kitchen disguised her flushed cheeks, she said over her shoulder, “We’ll go into the lounge room.”

As she led him down the hall, the tide of impending doom tugged at her legs. Her lounge room was welcoming and expansive, with cream walls and pine colonial-style furniture, but she couldn’t help but think Cal could buy a place like this a thousand times over. He was decisive, powerful and obscenely rich. If Jillian thought to sell her on all those attributes, she was sorely mistaken. It only proved to her that Cal was unfamiliar with the word “no.”

His closed expression pitched her stomach into queasy unrest. This man, with his brooding thoughtfulness and silent staring, who’d stormed back into her life and accused her of blackmail, was a complete stranger to her.

What on earth was she thinking?

She sat on the chaise longue and folded her legs under her, watching as he remained standing.

“I apologize,” he began stiffly, “for yesterday. I believe I could have come off a little…”

“Pushy?” she offered, surprised.

“Determined,” he amended firmly. “I’m not used to making deals based on…” He ran his eyes over her and for one second, something flared in the dark depths before he shut it down. “…personal matters.”

Ava could only stare. When he unflinchingly met her eyes, something clicked. He was actually embarrassed at admitting that—a man worth billions, a business genius who was a dead ringer for Russell Crowe and attracted women by the boatload. Yet his expression said he’d rather eat glass than reveal any emotional vulnerability.

Despite herself, despite his demands, she felt a tiny thread of sympathy unfurl. Yet before she could say anything, he crossed his arms and swiftly changed the subject.

“What I’m offering is a business proposition. You need money. In return, the baby—and you—will have the Prescott name and all that entails.”

The smooth conciseness of his proposal took her aback for one heartbeat. In the next, she realized exactly what was happening: Sheer brute force hadn’t worked, so he was playing his next hand. Calm reasoning. She wondered what he’d try next if she refused. Seduction, perhaps? To her annoyance, a gentle anticipatory buzz tripped over her skin.

“Won’t a wife put a downer on your lifestyle?” she said now, shoving those distracting thoughts aside.

His eyes bored into her. “Let me make this clear—you are having my baby. Which means I want you.”

Hot excitement fired through her veins, steamrolling every other thought into oblivion. She tried to will it away but it kept on coming, a constant pounding wave that alternately thrilled yet alarmed her.

With a deep breath she finally managed to gain some modicum of control. Cal was simply claiming his child, that was all. He just wanted what she could give him.

So why was she acting like a jittery fool in love?

She dragged her eyes away, her mind spinning. Why couldn’t he be the man who’d stormed in her door and accused her of blackmail? At least that way she could refuse his demands with a clear conscience.

Bottom line—losing Jindalee was not an option. And her other choices included bankruptcy and poverty. She also had Jillian to think about; she’d convinced her aunt to sell her little café and come live with her. And Cal was offering more than financial security, a chance to keep the land and ensure the Reilly legacy stayed in the family. He was willing—no, demanding—to be a presence in her child’s life. A man who wanted all the responsibilities that being a father entailed.

That was more than a lot of children got these days, herself included.

She finally glanced up, only to catch Cal studying her with an intensity that made her itch to smooth her hair and check her teeth.

“What kind of arrangement did you have in mind?” she said now.

“A legally binding contract. You marry me and in return I’ll pay off all your debts, plus give you any assistance necessary to see this place turn a profit.”

“I’m not handing this place over to some manager. The land and property remain in my name.”

“Naturally. But I do expect you to be in Sydney whenever I need you, to be available for functions, dinners and such.”

“No.” Ava swallowed. A quickie wedding was one thing. But to publicly flaunt it, to pretend?

He crossed his arms with a small sigh, a sure indication he’d lost patience. “Yes. Did you think I’d just give you money and that’d be it until the child was born?”

“I thought…”

“Well, you thought wrong.” His jaw tightened. “This is my stipulation.”

Any hope of taking the money and keeping a low profile quietly disintegrated. “So I’m to be your arm decoration.”

“My fiancée,” he corrected. “You will be my wife, the mother of my child, and I expect you to conduct yourself accordingly. As I will.”

She blinked. “Which means?”

“No unscripted interviews, no tell-all book deals if and when we divorce.” His eyes suddenly darkened. “And no lovers while we’re married.”

A surprised breath tore at her throat. “I need to think.” Quickly she rose and the room tilted beneath her feet. Just as she grabbed the longue, Cal’s hand shot out to steady her.

The shock was so instantaneous, so unexpected, that she gasped. As his long fingers curled around her upper arm, her treacherous flesh caved. A sudden flicker of heat sparked in her belly, sending desire across her skin, making her muscles ache with want.

As if her mind could sense the thin thread of control she teetered on, that night came flooding back in hot, bright technicolor. His eager mouth on hers, on her neck. His sure, skilful hands cupping her breasts, teasing her nipples into peaking hardness. And his hot passionate breath trailing a path of seduction from her navel down to—

She pulled away, refusing to meet his eyes, barely managing a “thank you.” Inside, she tried to squelch the spurt of panic but reality crashed in. If she wanted to save Jindalee, she had no other choice.

She rubbed her cheek, surprised at the heat beneath her hand. There was no denying her body’s reaction to his simple touch. She wanted him. Even after just one night, after his accusations and demands, she wanted him.

With an inward groan, she crossed her arms. “Fine. After you leave for Sydney I’ll keep you updated on the baby’s progress. Of course I will—”

“No. I’m flying home this afternoon. You’re coming with me.”

“Today? That wasn’t part of the deal.”

Cal paused, as if chewing back his words with infinite patience. “Being my wife means social functions, outings, the whole shebang. Starting immediately. I’ve also booked you in to see a top paediatrician on Tuesday.”

She frowned. “Do I have any say in this?”

“On this, no. Which reminds me…” he flipped open his phone and dialled, exchanged a few words, then hung up. “We’ll be back here next Sunday with my team,” he said. “They’ll need a tour, plus your existing marketing and advertising strategy. I assume you do have one?”

She straightened her shoulders with an indignant glare. “Yes.”

“I’ve also authorised payment of your loans and any other outstanding debts.” He shoved his hands on his hips. “Anything else?”

Howsabout you build a time machine and go back about nine weeks? The words bubbled up in her throat but she quickly swallowed them. Mutely she shook her head.

“Ava? Are we in agreement?”

She nearly whimpered as Cal’s deep voice flowed over her, kicking up her pulse another notch. Stop. Please stop talking, before I completely lose it. Her feet rocked, her heart hammering in her chest.

“What happens after the baby’s born?” she said hoarsely. “What if we…decide it’s not working?” What if you decide playing daddy isn’t fun anymore? What if I end up hating you? What if you fall in love with someone? Her heart twisted for a second, surprising her.

“Thinking about divorce before we’re even married?” He quirked one eyebrow up and she flattened her mouth until her lips hurt.

“Yes.”

He gave her a slow, considering look. “If that time comes, I’m open to discussing it. Not before. I’ve put a clause in the prenup to address that. But regardless of what we decide, I’m still that child’s father.”

The underlying thread of possessiveness was undeniable. If that didn’t drop her stomach, then the “if the time comes” bit did. Of course the time would come. A country girl and a big-city billionaire were no more suited than chalk and cheese. No one these days based a marriage purely on financial gain. No one except her, that is.

She nodded, even as perverse disappointment rioted through her. “So you’re asking me to marry you?”

Cal dragged his eyes away from the hollow of her neck to focus on her eyes. “Does this mean you’re saying yes?”

“Are you asking me to marry you?” she repeated, crossing her arms across her chest. Unfortunately, it only drew his attention to her breasts, which were now pushing seductively up from the deep V of her buttoned shirt.

Cal’s words inexplicably stuck to the roof of his dry mouth. Then he suddenly recalled their earlier conversation. He hadn’t asked her. He cleared his throat. “Ava. Will you marry me?”

She took a breath, almost as if drawing in strength. “Yes. But with stipulations.”

“Go on.”

She flushed but kept right on going. “Any major decisions, any changes concerning Jindalee must be first approved by me.”

Cal frowned. “My team is better equipped to decide—”

“This is my land, Cal.” She levelled an unwavering gaze at him. “I get the final say-so.”

“Okay,” he conceded, finally seating himself on the arm of a sturdy one seater. “I’ll have my solicitor put it in the contract.”

Ava stilled, waiting for a sign, anything that would let her know she was either making a colossal mistake or doing the right thing. Nothing. And as the seconds ticked by, she took another breath, then sat.

“I plan to be a hands-on mother, which means I won’t be handing this baby over to a nanny just so I can swan off to parties with you.”

His brief flash of surprise quickly disappeared with a cool nod. “Understood.”

“And…” She faltered. “One more thing. The sleeping arrangements.” One eyebrow kinked up but he said nothing. Under his scrutiny she felt the traitorous heat bloom across her skin. “I don’t think it would be a good idea to…well…”

“Have sex?” He leaned back, carefully crossing his ankle over one knee as his mouth twitched. His nonchalant amusement only deepened her embarrassment.

“Well, yes.”

He shrugged. “If that’s what you want.”

Ava nodded, mortification clogging her throat. Of course it’s what she wanted. He thought she was a woman who got herself pregnant just to blackmail him. She had more self-respect than to jump into bed with a man who believed she was a common criminal.

Yet his quick acquiescence seared the edges of her womanly pride. As she studied him, she recalled an article she’d once read…something about pregnant women being a huge turn-off for some men. She’d never pegged Cal for one of those men. But then, they’d been lovers for only one fleeting night—what did she really know about her husband-to-be?

She felt the blood drain from her face. Her husband. To be.

“Then it’s settled.” He leaned forward, hand outstretched and for a second she just stared at him. At his questioning look, she quickly took his hand, sealing the deal and her fate with one firm handshake.

Yet her mind wasn’t on the deal they’d just struck—it was on the way his long fingers wrapped around hers, enveloping her in heat and…something more, something almost protective. Something that tugged at the deepest part of her, that spoke to every teenage yearning, every wish list of happy-ever-afters she’d ever made. Here was a man in every sense of the word—strong, determined, a provider. The sheer command of his very presence took her breath away.

“Ava?”

With a jolt she realized she still held his hand and worse, she’d been stroking it with her thumb.

With a gasp she tried to pull back, but he refused to let her go. Instead she stood but he followed her, his hand still imprisoning hers.

“Ava…” he trailed off, almost as if rethinking his next words.

“Cal, please.” Please don’t? Or please do? Her head said one thing, her body another, and from the sudden awareness sparking in his dark eyes, she knew which one he’d chosen to hear.

Please do.

He drew her to him with all the skill and confidence of a man who knew she wouldn’t refuse. He cupped her elbows, pinning her to his chest, to that warm, hard wall of muscle beneath soft cotton that cried out to be touched, caressed. Kissed.

She closed her eyes as heat and desire turned her brain to mush, waiting in willing anticipation for his lips to claim hers. A tremble started up in her belly, looping and swirling as she felt his warm breath gently swoop over her mouth. Her heart kicked up the tempo, beating hard in her throat, in her head. In a sharp rush, she exhaled, then…then…

Nothing.

“Look at me.”

His sinful voice sent a flutter of goosebumps over her skin. Slowly, she did as he asked.

Danger. She felt it crackle in the air as his chest pressed intimately into her breasts. His eyes held the remembrance of mutual pleasures, everything she’d walked away from, everything in her tortured dreams.

A deep, burning need seared Cal a thousand times over as he stared into her upturned face. To his stunned amazement, he realized he wanted her, right here, right now. After weeks of denial, his body ached for her like he’d been cloistered in a monastery for years. He shouldn’t want her. Damn, he didn’t even trust her.

Pride nipped at his heels, giving him the strength to release her. With regret dogging his retreat, he gritted his teeth.

“If you want me, Ava,” he growled, unable to disguise the lust in his voice, “then you’ll have to say it.”