No Ring Required: Millionaire's Calculated Baby Bid. Laura Wright
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glistened like two inviting lakes beckoning her to jump in, and his clothes seemed highly unnecessary. Mary felt her defenses slipping. Forget being friends; she wanted him to kiss her again—just once so she could prove to herself that it wasn’t as good as she remembered. Sure, he had more depth than he let on, but she could make no mistake about it—Ethan Curtis was a selfish, misguided man, who was solely out for himself.
She put down her napkin and tried not to stare at the lush curve of his lower lip. “I won’t pretend that we’re friends, or even friendly.”
“Fine, but can you really despise me? For wanting a child?”
She laughed, shocked at how obtuse he was being. “Is that a serious question? Of course it’s understandable and wonderful to want a child—blackmailing a woman you know nothing about to get one is not.”
He leaned forward and with a trace of a growl said, “True.”
“You have no excuse for your behavior?”
“None whatsoever.”
They stared at each other in stubborn silence, sparks of heat, of desire, flickering between them.
Finally Ethan spoke, “Let’s go see the room.”
They walked side by side through the house and up the curving staircase to the second floor. Ethan had run these stairs a hundred times, alone of course. He hadn’t invited many people to his home, and the ones that had made it past the foyer had never been allowed upstairs. He normally took women back to their place after a date. Less complicated that way.
These upcoming parties were going to be the first time he’d invited a large group to his home, and the thought alarmed him somewhat, though he knew it was the right business decision. If a person was going to switch insurance companies for their billion-dollar business, they would want to see the man who’d be taking it over in his natural habitat—simple as that.
“I chose the room next to mine,” Ethan explained as they walked down the long hallway. “If he or she needs me in the middle of the night…” He paused at the door to the nursery and looked at her. “That’s how it goes, right? They wake up at night and you go to them?”
“I wouldn’t know.” Her skin had taken on a grayish pallor as she stared into the empty room with its beamed ceilings and white walls.
“Your womanly instincts must tell you something—” Ethan began, but was quickly cut off by Mary’s soft laughter. “All right, I’m a little nervous about this whole thing. I want a child more than anything, but I know absolutely nothing.”
“You’ll get help.”
“I don’t do therapists.”
She released a heavy sigh and turned to face him. “No, Ethan. Not that kind of help.”
“What? Like a nanny or something?”
“Or something.”
He shook his head. “All this child will need is me.”
“Two seconds ago you were saying you didn’t know a thing.”
“I’ll learn.”
“Maybe you won’t be able to give a child everything. I mean…”
“What? What do you mean?”
She gritted her teeth. “Well, you were just talking about womanly instincts. I mean, don’t you think that a child needs a mother?”
Ethan felt his whole body go numb at her query and tried to shake it off, but the more he tried to control the feeling, the anger building inside him, the harder it attacked him. He heard himself mutter a scornful sound, then say, “Not from what I’ve noticed.”
Mary’s face was impassive, except for the frown lines between her brows. “What have you noticed?”
His head was swimming, his thoughts as jumpy as his skin. But why, dammit? Why was he reacting this way? The truth was he’d done just fine after his mom ran off. Sure he got into trouble with the law, but he’d gotten a hold of himself, and look at where he was today—no thanks to a mother. No, he and his kid would do just fine.
Mary felt the conflict start deep in her gut. She didn’t want to give a damn about Ethan or his past or his feelings on his family, but the stark pain etched on his face was very telling and intriguing. She would never have imagined seeing the hint of a suffering boy behind the overconfident glare of the man. “Ethan,” she began softly. “I’m not going to push you on this, but—”
Turning away from her, he lifted his chin and stared into the nursery. He was not about to discuss his past with her. “What do you think of the room?”
“It’s great,” she said in a soft voice. “Perfect. Any kid’s dream.”
“I’d like to get started on it right away.”
“Sure.”
He looked down at her once again, his eyes so dark blue and impassioned she felt her breath catch. “Mary?”
“Yes?”
“Would you mind…” He broke off, shook his head.
“What?”
“Can I touch you?”
Her self-control, always to be counted on, melted like the last bits of snow on a warm spring day. “We agreed—”
“No.” He moved closer, until they were nearly touching. “Your stomach.”
“Oh.”
He cursed darkly. “I know it’s ridiculous. Way too early. All of that. But, I…”
Her gaze dropped to her belly. “It is early.”
“I know, but I just…” His mouth was close to her ear, that sensual, cynical mouth.
“All right,” she heard herself utter foolishly.
Mary closed her eyes, afraid of what she might say or do when his hand gently cupped her stomach. Heat surged through the light cotton fabric of her shirt, and she was flooded with emotions. There was no child here, yet there was an ache so intense she thought she’d collapse if he didn’t move his hand up toward her breasts or down between her thighs. Frustrated weakness overtook her and she wobbled against him.
“Are you all right?” he asked, holding her steady.
She had never run from anything in her life, but at that moment she had to get out of his house, away from that room, far from him. “I have to get back to the office.”
“I’ll drive you back.”
She ignored the concern in his voice and pushed away from him. “I followed you over here, remember?”
“Maybe you should sit down for a minute. You seem—”
“The first party is Friday, correct?” she said, running her fingers through her hair, as if that would help quiet her shaking body. “If you can send me the guest list.”
“Of course.” He attempted to touch her again, but she moved away.
“Thank you for lunch, Ethan.” Brushing past him, she walked quickly down the hallway, down the stairs and out the front door, only remembering to breathe once she was safely inside her car.
“What’s Olivia making?” Mary asked when she returned to the office later that day. Even in her sorry mental state, the scent she’d encountered when entering the lobby of their office building five minutes ago had made her taste buds come alive. Mouthwatering aromas wafting through their building weren’t an unusual occurrence during the week, they just made her want to run up the four