The Magnate's Baby Promise / Having The Billionaire's Baby. Sandra Hyatt
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the past nine weeks he’d refused to think about her, about that one amazing night, shoving it from his mind with the decisive efficiency he was renowned for. But now, as he let his thoughts wander back to their chance encounter, the walls began to crack.
Long limbs, soft black hair and a pair of bright blue eyes teased his memory. Ava. A movie-star name, one that evoked a woman with poise, elegance. Presence.
She’d gotten under his skin and stayed there, disrupting his thoughts at awkward times—in meetings, with clients. The worst were the early mornings, before the sun rose. Time and again he’d hauled himself from the depths of a hot erotic dream where her mouth had been on his, her lips trailing over his chest, her skin hot and silky beneath his hands. It had left him frustrated and aching with need way too many times.
He’d been determined to forget her, forget what had just been a one-night stand. Ironically, he’d gotten his wish three days ago. Three days since his stepfather had issued his ultimatum, seventy-two hours in which VP Tech had dominated his thoughts and he’d seesawed between dull, throbbing rage and aggravated tension.
With a flick of his wrist, he ripped open the envelope and scanned the report.
After too many broken nights and unfocused days, he’d taken action. Now he steeled himself for reality to shatter the fantasy. She could be married, or engaged. His thoughts darkened. He could’ve been her last fling before she’d settled down to marry her childhood sweetheart—
As his eyes flipped over the paragraphs, his brows took a dive. Ava Reilly owned a bed-and-breakfast in rural western New South Wales.
He reached for his computer mouse, clicked on the Internet connection and typed “Jindalee retreat” in the search engine. Seconds later he was looking at Jindalee’s basic Web page. No wonder she was up to her eyeballs in debt with the bank about to foreclose next month. The place was under-promoted and unremarkable for a simple outback town with less than five hundred people.
He went back to the report, skimming over her finan-cials until he got to the summary of her weekly errands. Cal snorted. That PI was thorough, he’d give him that.
Approximately eight weeks pregnant.
“What the hell?”
Office walls suddenly closed in on him, tight and airless, forcing Cal to take a deep gulp.
In one sharp movement, he crushed the offending paper and hurled it across his office, where it hit the wall with a soft thud. No. No way. Not again.
A shuddering breath wracked through him as shock stiffened every muscle. He’d had that, once. A baby. His baby. A child to follow in his footsteps, to nurture and love. To shower with his wealth and experience and to ensure the past was never repeated. He’d been ecstatic when Melissa had told him. Vulnerable.
Stupid.
She’d faked everything and he’d vowed never to repeat that failure again.
But this…this changed everything.
He tightened his jaw, teeth grinding together. After making mad, passionate love, Ava had run like a thief in the night. If not for those black bikini knickers he’d found tangled in the sheets, it could have all been just a delicious, erotic dream.
His thoughts spun out of control, fed by heated memories. And as he recalled every sigh, every touch, his shock morphed into something more sinister. Swiftly his mind clicked through options. Chance encounter or deliberate? Perhaps part of a calculated blackmail plan?
His harsh laugh exploded in the quiet office. If the child was his, it provided a neat solution to all his problems.
He slammed down his glass then picked up the phone. “Jenny—arrange for a car and inform the airstrip I’ll be flying within the hour.”
Replacing the receiver with deliberate slowness he stood, a low curse softly rumbling across his lips.
His baby.
Shards of intense possessiveness stabbed, threatening to choke off his air. If Ava thought he’d pay up and stay out of her life, she was very much mistaken. Every single day, in the midst of everything he’d attained, who he was and where he’d come from were never far from his mind. And no long-legged, dark-haired seductress with wide blue eyes would compromise his beliefs.
With gnawing apprehension, Ava realized she had to face facts—Jindalee was spiralling into a money pit and she had no way of stopping it.
She sighed, eyeing the final notices spread before her on the kitchen table. Absently she ran a frustrated hand over the tangle of hair that had slipped from its ponytail. She’d been certain people would jump at the chance to spend time at a real get-away-from-it-all rural retreat, so certain she’d sunk all her parents’ insurance money into the venture. She’d converted the homestead into a reception and dining area, built a five-cabin extension and refurbished the kitchen.
All to emphasise her spectacular downfall.
Her rooms were empty most weekends and she didn’t have the money or experience to keep on advertising. Despite her fierce determination to ignore the town gossips, she knew they’d feed on this until her belly started to grow, and then the Gum Tree Falls grapevine would be buzzing anew with “have you heard the latest on Ava Reilly?”
With burning cheeks she stood, eased out the kink in her back and took a deep breath. Tentatively, she placed a hand on her still-flat stomach.
A baby. Hers.
Wonder and shock tripped her breath, adding a shaky edge to the inhale. She tried to swallow but tears welled in her eyes. Quickly, she dashed them away. She hadn’t gone looking for a one-night stand, yet the stranger had commanded her eyes the instant he’d settled on the bar stool next to hers at Blu Horizon, an exclusive cocktail lounge at Sydney’s Shangri-La Hotel. He’d radiated confidence and wealth as if powered by some inner sun, from every thread of his sharply tailored black suit to the closely cropped, almost military haircut. Yet there was something more, something a little vulnerable beneath that chiselled face, all angles and shadow.
It was only after she’d snuck back to her girlfriend’s place at 2:00 a.m. that she’d discovered the real identity of the man who’d rocked her world. Mr. One-Click, heir apparent to the great Victor Prescott’s vast technology empire. Cal Prescott’s computer software had recently become number one in national sales. Hell, she’d just upgraded her office computer with the latest version.
She snorted at the irony. Cal Prescott was one of the richest men under thirty-five, a man who regularly dated supermodels and socialites. He was a man who avoided emotional entanglements, who revelled in his bachelor lifestyle. If working long hours and staying single was an Olympic event, he’d have a cupboard full of gold medals.
It was a good thing you left. A smart choice. The right choice. Still, a tiny doubt niggled. How could she single-handedly bring a baby into her life, a debt-ridden life to which she could add the grim possibility of being homeless, too?
She’d wavered between absolute joy and utter despair a million times this past week. And every time she always returned to one realization: fate. Karma. Destiny. Whatever it was called, the universe was telling her that despite everything, this baby was meant to be.
Ava Rose, life never throws anything your way you’re not capable of handling. Her mother’s favourite phrase teased her mouth into a too-brief smile before the familiar throb of loss hit. She let it sit there for a second before shoving it aside. Death and tragedy hadn’t defeated her before. A new life wouldn’t now.
She dropped her hands to the table and gathered up the papers. The pity party’s over. It was time to take action and get her life back on track. Somehow.
“Doing your paperwork, I see.”
Ava whirled, her brain tingling at the sound of that oh-so-delicious voice. A millisecond later, her stomach fell to the floor.