More Than a Millionaire / The Untamed Sheikh. Emilie Rose
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him out the door with a serious lack of enthusiasm weighting her steps. She’d rather spend her day staked to an ant hill than beside him in his Corvette.
His absolute certainty that he’d win custody of her baby unsettled her and made her doubt her ability to do her job. Her job was to give Beth and Patrick the family they yearned for.
He negotiated his way out of downtown and headed east on the interstate before glancing in her direction. “You left the house early this morning. I called at eight.”
She wasn’t in the mood for chitchat, but the situation demanded she keep things civil. When she caught herself studying the way his khaki pants clung to his long, muscular thighs she quickly transferred her attention to the rolling hills outside the windshield.
“There was an early-bird sale across town. Beth and I were shopping for baby things. She gets teary-eyed and chokes up when she handles the tiny clothes. I bet you don’t do that.”
A beat of silence passed. “I thought pregnant women were supposed to be the emotional ones.”
“Maybe she’s having sympathy pains. Studies show that some husbands have sympathy morning sickness. Apparently adoptive mothers-to-be can, too. Beth and I were always close.” Sometimes too close. Sometimes she’d wondered if Beth were living vicariously through her, because her sister preferred to stay at home and read or watch movies then hear about Nicole’s adventures later.
“If men appear to share morning sickness it’s only because watching their wives heave makes them want to do the same.”
She struggled with the juvenile urge to stick out her tongue at him. She knew Beth shared her roller-coaster emotional swings—swings which had grown worse for both of them since Ryan had exploded into their lives two weeks ago—because she’d witnessed a few wild fluctuations. “You are a cynic.”
“Not a cynic. A realist. I see things for what they are.”
And he was bitter, too, from the sounds of it. “What do you know about pregnant women?”
“I spent nine months with my ex-wife.”
Shock stilled her breath. That implied he had fathered a child before. “You said firstborn Patricks always took over the family firm. Why isn’t this child?”
“She wasn’t mine.” The hard, flat words opened a Pandora’s box of questions.
“I’m not following. She was your wife’s child but not yours?”
A nerve twitched in his clenched jaw. “Yes. The neighborhood is a mile ahead on your left.”
She’d spotted the signs for several Douglas Lake housing developments a few miles back, but location didn’t interest her at the moment. His evasion did.
“We’ve proven you’re fertile, so she obviously didn’t need to use donor sperm. Was she involved with someone before you? No, wait. You said you were with her for the full nine months. You’re going to have to explain that.”
He sliced a quick, hard glance her way. “And if I said it’s none of your business?”
“I’d remind you you’re the one who told me to ask questions about your sexual history.”
He pursed his lips and blew out a slow breath. “My girlfriend was screwing my best friend. I was too blind to see it. When the pregnancy test turned up positive she swore the baby was mine. I married her. Turns out she lied.”
Poor guy. From the sounds of it, like her father he’d been wronged by the woman he loved. But unlike her father, Ryan hadn’t hung around for more of the same bad medicine. But then everyone knew her father only stayed because the money came from her mother’s side of the family, and her mother owned the lion’s share of Hightower Aviation.
“I’m sorry. How long ago was that?”
“Fourteen years.”
“Were you involved in her pregnancy before you found out?”
“Every damned day. Through every doctor’s appointment, every time she hugged the toilet and every midnight craving.”
No wonder he was such a jerk now. Betrayal could make you bitter—if you chose to let it. She’d chosen not to. Just as she’d chosen not to let sympathy soften her dislike of him.
“How did you find out? Did your wife eventually tell you?”
“Hell no. My best friend was African-American. Let’s just say my beautiful blond wife’s daughter was the spitting image of her daddy.”
Ouch. So he’d lost a wife, a best friend and a child at the same time. Triple whammy. “Have you kept in touch with them?”
“Why would I?”
Typical male. “Is she happier with him than she was with you?”
“How the hell would I know? And why would I care?”
“If you truly love someone, then you want them to be happy—even if it’s not with you.” That’s what she wished for Patrick.
Ryan looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “That’s bull.”
“We choose whether to look on the positive or negative side of a situation.”
“You’re a real Pollyanna, aren’t you?”
Her spine stiffened. Was he laughing at her? “Because I focus on what I have instead of what I don’t have?”
Shaking his head, he turned the car into a new and exclusive waterfront community, went a few blocks then drove up a winding driveway through thick evergreen trees. The property had to be several acres. A beautiful two-story house with a wraparound porch came into view, but even before he stopped the car by the three-car garage Nicole knew the place would never work.
A multitude of objections gathered on her tongue, but “No,” was all her quickly tiring brain could manage.
“You haven’t even seen the place.”
She smothered the yawn she couldn’t hold back. “All I need to see is the steep drop-off to the lake. If you tripped, you’d roll like a snowball going down a ski slope. Don’t get me wrong, Ryan, the house is gorgeous and it’s a lovely neighborhood, but there’s no way to make that yard safe for a toddler to run and play in.”
He scanned the property again as if verifying her words.
“Wait here.” He climbed from the car and greeted the suit-clad woman climbing from a minivan bearing a local real estate agent’s sign on the door. After speaking with her he returned to the Corvette.
Resting his forearm on the steering wheel, he twisted in his seat to face her. “The next house is waterfront, too. Should we even bother to look at it?”
“You like your water, don’t you?”
“I used to row and wakeboard competitively in college.”
Why didn’t that surprise her? He had the wide shoulders and thick biceps either of those sports would develop. One of those big arms drew her attention now. She’d bet the fingers of both her hands together couldn’t circle the width. For a split second she wondered what he’d look like wearing nothing but swim trunks. Shaking her head, she banished the image of his lean, tanned frame.
Why did his physique fascinate her?
Because your child carries half his DNA and might inherit some of those attractive traits.
Satisfied with her answer she met his gaze. “Water is a hazard. But if you can fence it off, then maybe it would work. I guess this means you’re not going to give up your dangerous toys just because you’re about to become a father.”
His eyes narrowed. “No.”
She gave him credit for his honesty—even though she knew she’d