More Than a Millionaire / The Untamed Sheikh. Emilie Rose
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do that.”
“I’ve already spoken to my attorney. I can. This is my kid. I have a vested interest in his welfare.”
Nicole wanted to slap her hands over her ears, but she refrained. “Stop saying that. Your contribution was an accident. You weren’t there. You had nothing to do with it. And if the clinic hadn’t broken the law and given you my confidential information then you wouldn’t even know my name.”
“Irrelevant. I know who you are, and I’m not going away. Do us both a favor and don’t make our lawyers rich.” He turned, releasing her from the tension of his total concentration, removed his suit coat and tossed it over the back of a minimalist leather chair.
She took the opportunity to move away from him. He made her uncomfortable. Why? She had no idea. She dealt with powerful men on a daily basis—men who were in-her-face obnoxious and demanding. She easily kept her cool with them. It wasn’t as easy with Ryan.
Because he’s threatening your—Beth’s—baby. That makes it personal.
He faced her again, unbuttoned his cuffs then started rolling up his sleeves. “Do you smoke?”
The slow revelation of a tanned, muscled forearm riveted her attention. “No.”
“Drink alcohol?”
“Occasionally. But not at all now that I’m expecting.”
“Have you had more than five sexual partners?”
Offended, she stiffened. “That is none of your business. Take me back to my office. Now.”
He finished rolling up his second sleeve and parked his hands on those lean hips. “These are standard questions from the fertility clinic questionnaire which they neglected to have you complete. You have the right to ask the same questions of me. And you should.”
As rude and insulting as he’d been, he was also correct and fair-minded. She hated that a virtual stranger had the right to pry into her personal business. But what if he ended up sharing custody of this child with Beth and Patrick? She—correction—Beth and Patrick needed to know everything about him.
“The clinic doesn’t accept donations from or inseminate HIV-positive clients. If you’d done your research, you would know that.”
“They also claim they don’t make mistakes.”
Point to Ryan. She sighed. “I’ve had less than five partners. You?”
“More than five. But I’ve been careful. Are you seeing anyone now?”
“No.” This was worse than a blind date. “Are you? Is there a woman who’ll have problems with my pregnancy?”
“No.”
“A man?”
His venomous look should have dropped her on the spot, but she had to ask since his solo quest for a child was an unusual one.
His blue eyes scanned her body, leaving a ripple of sensation in their wake. “Do you have any habits that might aversely affect my child’s well-being?”
“I never would have agreed to carry this child for Beth if I did, and I don’t take any drugs except for the prenatal vitamins.”
“Good. Let’s eat.” He walked away.
“I’d rather go back to work.” Or even as far away as Alaska to get away from him.
“You need to eat for yourself and the baby,” he called over his shoulder.
Unfortunately, he was right again. Rather than wait for him in his austere living room, she followed him into a spacious kitchen with stone countertops, glass-front upper cabinets and top-of-the-line stainless steel appliances. As much as he’d already unsettled her stomach with his intrusive questions, she doubted she’d be able to swallow a bite.
He pulled a casserole dish from the top of the double oven. A delicious tomato-and-garlic scent filled the air. Her stomach growled in anticipation. “You assumed a lot by preparing a meal before I agreed to go out with you.”
“We both have the kid’s best interest at heart, and from what I’ve read about you, you’re intelligent enough to know we need to have this discussion. Take a seat and help yourself. It’s vegetable lasagna.”
He had no idea how close she’d come to refusing his “invitation.” She crossed to the glass-topped iron table. He set the rectangular dish on a trivet in the center then returned to pull a loaf of bread from the bottom oven. He sliced the bread, tossed the slices into a basket and brought the basket to the table.
She could get used to a man who was good in the kitchen.
Oh no you won’t.
Next he retrieved a bowl of marinated green beans with grape tomatoes and a pitcher of iced tea from the refrigerator and placed them in the middle of the table, then he sat across from her and filled their glasses.
Nicole’s stomach did one of those weird things it had been doing a lot lately. In a split second it went from not remotely interested in food to ravenous. She loaded her plate and as soon as Ryan had done the same, she dug into the lasagna. The tangy, sauce made her eyes roll back in pleasure, and the thick chunks of eggplant and mushroom tasted better than anything she’d eaten in ages.
She ate for several minutes before looking up and finding his gaze on her. Embarrassed by her unladylike appetite, she paused with her fork halfway to her mouth—the mouth his eyes had focused on. “You know how to cook?”
“My grandmother made sure I learned.”
She’d always envied her friends whose men enjoyed sharing the kitchen with them. But that kind of domestic bliss wasn’t on her agenda. “This is very good.”
“Thank you.” He watched her tuck a tomato between her lips and something changed in his eyes. Something that caused her stomach muscles to tense and her pulse to flutter.
She fought off the sensation and concentrated on the things she didn’t like about him. His bossiness. His risky hobbies. His determination to deprive her of her child.
“Despite your domestic skills, between your motorcycle and your boat and from what I’ve read about you, you’re nowhere near responsible enough to raise a child.”
“You shouldn’t believe what you read in the gossip columns.”
How could she ignore what her Google search had revealed? Look at him. What woman wouldn’t want him? Except her, that is. He was smart, successful and wealthy. Hadn’t her brothers proven that men constantly bombarded with women tended to be selfish and far from good father material?
“Do you or do you not trade in your women more often than most people charge their cell-phone batteries? A child needs security and stability.”
“I haven’t been involved in a long-term relationship lately, if that’s what you’re asking. Have you?”
“My love life is none of your business.”
“It is if your habits could endanger my kid’s health.”
Her mouth opened and closed like a goldfish, but she couldn’t manage to dredge up a blistering comeback. Once again, as ugly as his comment might have been, his concern was valid. “That isn’t an issue.”
“I want a copy of your medical records and to attend every doctor’s appointment with you.”
She bit her tongue. Pain stabbed her mouth. “What?”
“You’ll need to transfer your records to the obstetrical practice I’ve chosen.”
“Are you out of your mind? You can’t make those decisions for me.”
“I want to track his development. And this obstetrical group is the best in the region.”
She