At the Billionaire's Beck and Call? / High-Society Secret Baby. Rachel Bailey
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of that kiss came flooding back once more and filled her mind, her body, but she pushed them away and lifted her chin as she replied. “What would be the point of becoming involved when you want it to lead in a direction that I’ll never go?”
“I can think of several reasons.” His warm brown eyes smoldered. “Starting with how mind-blowing that kiss was.”
It was as if champagne had been let loose in her bloodstream—despite her efforts to hold it back, now the effervescence flowed from her fingers to her toes and all the places in between. If he hadn’t made that deal with her father, she could stop fighting and let their attraction take its natural course. But he had. And she couldn’t give in. Once again she banked the fire that he so easily lit inside her and brought her body back under control.
That deal between Ryder and her father was creating grief on so many levels. She’d thought about it endlessly, and one thing still intrigued her.
She uncrossed her legs and sat a little straighter. “Will you tell me something?”
“Anything,” he said, not bothering to hide that he was drawing his attention from her legs back to her face.
“You’ve put your wedding vows, yourself on the market for the sake of your business, for money. Why would you let yourself be sold like that?”
His body snapped to attention. “Sold?”
“To get access to my father’s company, you’re willing to give up your chance to find a wife you love. Or—” she tapped a finger against her cheek “—are you thinking that our marriage would only last until the company is yours?”
He stood and moved to the front of his desk, leaning his weight back on it as he took her hands. His eyes—which only moments before had sizzled with sensual intent—were now serious. “Marriage vows are sacred. Once given they shouldn’t be broken without a damn good reason.”
She’d suspected he’d think that way after growing up with a father who hadn’t taken his own vows seriously. Which made it all the more strange that he’d agreed to this plan.
She retracted her hands from his and stood, pacing to the other side of the room, giving herself a little distance so she could focus on the conversation, and not him. “You’re willing to blow your chance of finding love. Blow it on me, and on getting that company?”
His shoulders went back and his brow furrowed. “That’s not how I see it.”
“Tell me then,” she said, wanting to understand. Every time she unpeeled a layer, he showed her another, each one more intriguing than the last. “Explain how else this could be seen.”
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, as if steeling himself. “Love is not an option for me. I’m simply not put together that way.”
He’d said something similar on the day he’d proposed, but she hadn’t quite believed him. She could see now that he was very serious about it. What would make a man believe love wasn’t an option for him? It had to be something buried deep. And, although he’d said he’d answer anything, to ask him this question felt like an invasion of his privacy. An intimacy too far.
Instead, she drifted back to stand beside her chair and stuck to the impact his belief about love had on their current situation. “So you’d always planned to marry without love.”
He nodded. “Or not marry at all. But I’d prefer to marry, to have that companionship, children. A home. And when your father laid out his condition of sale, I have to admit, the thought of being married to you appealed, regardless of the business deal.”
She felt her eyes widen. He really expected her to buy that? A stranger? He’d gone right past honesty, charm and believability and headed straight for trying to pull the wool over her eyes. He must think she was naive.
She arched an eyebrow. “Tell me how I could appeal when we’d never met?”
His gaze flicked from her lips to her eyes. “This might sound crazy, but whenever your photo is in the paper—usually old photos they recycle when there’s a story on your mother or sister—” he paused to clear his throat “—something in your eyes always haunted me.”
She blinked at him. That was the last thing she’d expected him to say. No, beyond last—it was preposterous. “From a photo?”
“Yes,” he said with certainty.
Macy swallowed hard. It was true. She saw it in his every feature. Ryder, a man with the world at his feet, had been fascinated by an old photo of her. Her knees wobbled and she sank back down into the chair. It didn’t make sense, yet his gaze was solemn.
She thought back to something else he’d said the day he proposed. “You really did choose to pursue me over my sister when you had the option?”
A deep frown line appeared between his brows. “I told you I did.”
Yet, it’d been the day after she’d met him in person for the first time. “I didn’t believe you,” she admitted.
“I mightn’t have given the full story at times, but I’ve never once said something to you that’s untrue. I would never lie to you, Macy.”
She felt her mouth curve in a cynical smile. “Although, in the time we’ve known each other, there have been quite a few instances when you haven’t given me the full story. Buying my apartment block. Wanting to buy my father’s company. I just wonder what other ‘full stories’ there are yet to come out.”
His eyes seemed to pierce hers, but then Bernice knocked on the door and poked her head in. “Your next appointment is here,” she said to Ryder.
He nodded. “I’ll be right out.”
Macy rose. “I’ll leave you to your appointment.”
As she turned to leave, he grasped her hand and his warmth flowed from his hand to hers, heating her body. “I meant what I said. About you changing your mind.” His gaze came to rest on her lips. “Say the word, Macy.”
Her skin prickled with unwanted heat. He was so close. His mouth was so close. She shut her eyes for a long moment against his power. Then she took a deliberate step back and he released her hand.
At the door she turned. “I appreciate the option. But we both know it will never happen.”
Then she walked on unsteady legs back to her own office to focus on something besides her boss and the trip they were taking alone in only a few days.
Five
Macy swallowed away the tightness in her throat, clenched her fingers around her briefcase strap and stepped onto the chartered jet. Her fear of flying meant each plane trip was a leap of faith, but she would never give in and let anxiety rule her life. She was stronger than her fear.
Seeing Ryder up ahead, already settled into his spacious seat, she made her legs move and ignored the turmoil in her belly.
“Good morning, Macy,” his deep voice rumbled.
“Good morning,” she said through stiff lips.
His eyes changed, suddenly alert and focused. Had he guessed? The last person she wanted to know about her phobia was her boss. Between him being her employer, and her body’s uncontrollable reaction to his, she already felt too vulnerable around him. Handing him knowledge of her weakness would be a step too far.
She stopped at a seat away from his and put her bag down to take off her coat. But Ryder indicated the seat beside him.
“Sit with me. You can brief me on what we’ll see in Sydney.”
Macy hesitated but covered her pause by folding her bulky jacket. If she sat beside him, she might be able to conceal her fear of flying for most of the trip, but the landing would be harder to bluff. She hated landings.
“I’ve