Million-Dollar Love-Child. Sarah Morgan

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Million-Dollar Love-Child - Sarah Morgan


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money. I’m begging you, Luc. Please lend me the money. I’ll pay you back somehow, but if you don’t give it to me I don’t know what else to do. I don’t know where else to turn—’

      She broke off, her slim shoulders drooped as the fight drained out of her, and she slumped into a chair.

      He wasn’t going to help her. The responsibility of being a single parent had always felt enormous, but never more so than now, when her child’s safety was threatened.

      She wanted to lean on someone. She wanted to share the burden.

      Luc stilled and his dark eyes narrowed. ‘For five million dollars you’d do absolutely anything?’

      There was something in his tone that made her uneasy but she didn’t hesitate. ‘I’m a mother and what mother wouldn’t agree to anything if it meant keeping her child safe?’

      ‘Well, that’s a very interesting offer.’ His eyes scanned her face thoughtfully. ‘I’ll think about it.’

      She bit her lip and clasped her hands in her lap. ‘I need an answer quickly.’

      ‘This is Brazil, meu amorzinho,’ he reminded gently, stretching lean muscular legs out in front of him, ‘and you of all people should know that we don’t do anything quickly.’

      She caught her breath, trapped by the burning heat in his eyes and the tense, pulsing atmosphere in the room. All at once she was transported back to long, lazy afternoons making love on his bed, in the swimming pool—afternoons that had stretched into evenings that had stretched into mornings.

      She swallowed as she remembered the slow, throbbing, intense heat of those days.

      No, Brazilians certainly didn’t rush anything.

      ‘The deadline is tomorrow night.’

      His eyes gleamed. ‘So many shoes, so little time. You think I will just give you the money and let you go? Is that what you think?’

      She swallowed, hypnotised by the look in his eyes. ‘Luc—’

      ‘Let’s look at the facts, shall we?’ Lean bronzed fingers beat a slow, menacing rhythm on the glass table. ‘You clearly hold me responsible for seducing you seven years ago. You come into my office ignoring the past as though it is a vile disease that you could catch again if you stay close to me for long enough.’ His gaze swept over her. ‘Everything about you is buttoned up. You are wearing your clothes like armour, protecting yourself and the truth is—’ he leaned towards her, his dark eyes mocking ‘—you are afraid of those things I made you feel, are you not? You are afraid of your own response to me. That is why you deny your feelings. It is so much easier to pretend that they don’t exist.’

      The breath she’d been about to take lodged in her throat. ‘I don’t feel anything—’

      He gave a lethal smile. ‘You forget, minha docura, that I was once intimately acquainted with every delicious inch of you. I know the signs. I recognise that flush on your cheeks, I recognise the way your eyes glaze and your lips part just before you beg me to kiss you.’

      Completely unsettled by his words, Kimberley rose to her feet so quickly she almost knocked the chair over. ‘You’re insufferably arrogant!’

      Her heart was pounding heavily and everything about her whole body suddenly felt warm and tingly.

      ‘I’m honest,’ he drawled, swivelling in his seat so that he could survey her from under slightly lowered lids, ‘which is more than you have ever been, I suspect. It is so much easier to blame me, is it not, than to accept responsibility yourself? Why is it that you find sex so shameful, I wonder?’

      She couldn’t catch her breath properly. ‘Because sex should be part of a loving relationship,’ she blurted out before she could stop herself and he gave a smile that was totally male.

      ‘If you believe that then clearly maturity has added nothing to your ability to face facts.’

      Tears pricked her eyes. ‘Why are you so cynical?’

      He shrugged. ‘I am realistic and, like most men, I don’t need the pretence of love to justify enjoying good sex.’

      How had she ever allowed herself to become involved with this man?

      They were just so different. ‘I—I hate you—’

      ‘You don’t hate me—’ his relaxed pose was in complete contrast to her rising tension ‘—but I know you think you do, which makes this whole situation more intriguing by the minute. You would so much rather be anywhere else but here. Which makes your greed all the more deplorable. You must want money very badly to risk walking into the dragon’s den.’

      ‘I’ve told you why I need the money and this situation has nothing to do with us—we’ve both moved on.’ Her fingers curled into her palms. ‘I know you’re not still interested in me, any more than I’m still interested in you.’

      ‘Is that a fact?’ His voice was a deep, dark drawl and he lounged in his seat with careless ease, contemplating her with lazy amusement. ‘And what if you’re wrong? What if I am still interested in you?’

      Her mouth dried. ‘You’re being ridiculous.’

      ‘A word of advice—’ His voice was suddenly soft and his eyes glittered, dark and dangerous. ‘When you’re trying to relieve someone of an indecent sum of money, don’t accuse them of being ridiculous.’

      She swallowed. How could she ever have thought she was a match for this man? She was a different person around him. Her brain didn’t move and her tongue didn’t form the right words.

      She should never have come, she thought helplessly. ‘If you won’t lend me the money then there’s no more to be said.’

      She’d failed.

      Panic threatened to choke her and she curled her fingers into her palms and walked towards the door.

      ‘Walk out of that door and you won’t be allowed back in,’ he informed her in silky tones. ‘Come back and sit down.’

      Would he be ordering her to sit down if he had no intention of lending her the money?

      Hope mingled with caution and she turned, her hand on the door handle and her heart in her mouth.

      ‘I said, sit down.’ His strong face was expressionless and, with barely any hesitation, she did as he ordered and then immediately hated herself for being that predictable. For doing exactly what he said.

      Wasn’t that what her whole life had been like for that one month they’d spent together? He’d commanded and she’d obeyed, too much in love and in lust to even think of resisting. Completely overwhelmed by him in every way. And here she was, seven years on, in his company for less than an hour and still obeying his every command.

      Well, it wasn’t going to happen that way again.

      She wasn’t that person any more, and being in the same room as him didn’t make her that person.

      Her expression was defiant as she looked at him. ‘It’s a simple question, Luc. Yes or no. It doesn’t matter whether I sit or stand and it doesn’t matter whether I leave the room. All the information you need is in that letter in front of you.’

      The letter he clearly thought was a fake.

      She watched in despair as he gave a casual shrug and pushed it away from him in a gesture of total indifference. ‘I have no interest in the letter or in your stories about phantom pregnancies. What does interest me, meu amorzinho, is the fact that you came to me.’

      She froze. ‘I already told you, I—’

      ‘I heard—’ he interrupted her gently, ‘you came to me to tell me you would do absolutely anything for five million dollars and now I simply have to decide exactly what form absolutely anything is going to take. When I’ve worked it out, you’ll be


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