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The Billionaire’s Fake Engagement / Man from Stallion Country: The Billionaire’s Fake Engagement / Man from Stallion Country
Robyn Grady
Annette Broadrick
Be swept away by passion… with intense drama and compelling plots, these emotionally powerful reads will keep you captivated from beginning to end.The Billionaire’s Fake Engagement Robyn Grady A scandal threatened one of Australia’s most powerful bachelor billionaires. The solution? A proposal. Alexander Ramirez was committed to the idea of family and his lover Natalie Wilder certainly brought the right assets to his bedroom. But Natalie had a secret…Man from Stallion Country Annette Broadrick As owner of a successful ranch, and soon to be married, Jordan Crenshaw had everything in order. So when gorgeous city girl Janeen White visited, Jordan was certain that any attraction he might have felt for her was pointless. Until he suddenly found himself single once more.



The Billionaire’s Fake Engagement by Robyn Grady
He pressed a lingering kiss to her brow. “You will wear my ring.”
She ran her fingertips over his back. “I can’t think now.”

“I don’t want you to think. I want you to feel…My ring, Natalie.”

Whether it was his bone-melting heat sliding against her or the dark-chocolate voice at her ear, in that moment he convinced her. This was their house, their new beginning. She did feel and she felt wonderful. So utterly right she was dizzy with the magic of it.
“Yes,” she murmured.


Man from Stallion Country by Annette Broadrick
“If you’re afraid of hurting my feelings, don’t be. I’m tough. I can take it.”
“OK,” he said slowly. “Here goes.” He cleared his throat. “Having you here is driving me crazy. I keep thinking about you no matter how hard I try to get you out of my mind. I don’t want to be attracted to you. I’m going to marry Cindy.”

Janeen stared at him in disbelief. He couldn’t be serious! She tried to think of something to say.

He muttered something under his breath and moved towards her. He pulled her to him and kissed her like a man would drink if he was dying of thirst and had just found a gushing fountain. When he finally loosened his hold and stepped back from her, she was almost too weak to stand.

Available in June 2010 from Mills & Boon
Desire

Conquering King’s Heart
by Maureen Child
&
Montana Mistress
by Sara Orwig

The Billionaire’s Fake Engagement
by Robyn Grady
&
Man from Stallion Country
by Annette Broadrick

The Illegitimate King
by Olivia Gates
&
Friday Night Mistress
by Jan Colley

The Billionaire’s Fake Engagement
by

Robyn Grady
Man From Stallion Country
by

Annette Broadrick



www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

The Billionaire’s Fake Engagement
by

Robyn Grady
Dear Reader,

To err is human, to forgive divine is a noble adage to live by. But have you ever been so badly burned that you were unable to forgive the person responsible? Sometimes forgiving ourselves over enduring regrets can prove even more difficult than forgiving others.
On the surface, Natalie Wilder, my heroine from The Billionaire’s Fake Engagement, has it all together. She’s successful, poised, well-liked and respected. However, beneath the mask Natalie is tormented. Six years ago, she suffered a woman’s worst nightmare…the loss of a child…and she blames no one but herself.
Enter Alexander Ramirez: intelligent, masterful and committed to the idea of family. He’s a man ready to take the next step…with the right woman. Could his mysterious and beautiful Natalie be the one? After a sizzling start, however, their relationship runs into a massive roadblock and the blows just keep coming! But the mounting challenges only see Alexander more determined to make Natalie his bride. until a final secret is divulged – a complication that Alex might be able to forgive but can never forget.

Hope you enjoy Alex and Natalie’s story!

Best wishes,

Robyn
Robyn Grady left a fifteen-year career in television production knowing that the time was right to pursue her dream of writing romance. She adores cats, clever movies and spending time with her wonderful husband and their three precious daughters. living on Australia’s glorious Sunshine Coast, her perfect day includes a beach, a book and no laundry when she gets home. Robyn loves to hear from readers. You can contact her at www.robyngrady. com.
To our Nan, coz, baby, you’re the best!

With huge thanks to my editor, Diana Ventimiglia, for her faith and stellar enthusiasm and my agent, Jennifer Schober, for her brilliant advice and support.

Chapter One
“I believe this is our dance.”
Achingly aware of the masculine heat at her back, Natalie Wilder bit down on her lip—an attempt to quell her full body quiver. Above the soft strains of music she’d heard his sable-smooth voice, but should she pretend that she hadn’t?
Rather than a request, his words had been more a decree, and she wasn’t the kind to be pushed. At least she wasn’t that kind anymore.
Still, tonight she was intrigued.
On the romantically lit dance floor, she edged away from her current partner’s hold—a nice man she’d met five minutes earlier—and turned to gaze into a pair of eyes. Penetrating, entrancing, smiling dark eyes.
Her heart began to race.
Everyone here knew this man. He was of Spanish descent, charming, mysterious—some might even say dangerous. For the last few minutes, she’d secretly watched him watching her from a shadowed corner of the ballroom. His name was an exotic elixir she craved to taste on her tongue.
Natalie gifted him a smile. “Alexander Ramirez, isn’t it?”
Onyx eyes flashed before his beautifully sculpted mouth curved…a mouth that knew how to kiss. How to love.
He lifted her hand to that warm mouth now and murmured, “At your service.”
When she’d arrived tonight, she’d taken in a view of the majestic Opera House shells presiding over Sydney’s famous harbour. The bridge was a glittering arc to the left of a low-slung full moon, which radiated lazy ribbons of gold over the shifting twilight waters. That extraordinary sight paled in comparison to this man’s casual yet compelling gaze.
Be wary, it seemed to say. Approach at your own risk.
Ramirez was anything but nice.
Acceding to his competition, Natalie’s ousted partner thanked her for the dance and Mr. Ramirez gathered her in strong tuxedo-clad arms. Beneath a shower of slow-spinning lights, she took note of his rock-solid heat and masculine scent, so clean and in-toxicating the sexual awareness it created was close to drugging.
While his thumb grazed a slow circle between her shoulder blades, Natalie deigned to ask, “Isn’t cutting in a little presumptuous?”
He spoke to her lips. “No.”
She raised her brows. “Such a simple answer.”
“’Twas a simple question.”
She tingled at his accent, its sensual slide as subtle as a brush with warm black satin. Reckless, no doubt, but she wanted to feel it again.
“I have another question.”
“Be my guest.”
“Are you in the habit of undressing women with your eyes from across crowded rooms?”
When his handsome face tipped closer, glossy black hair fell over one side of his brow. “Not until tonight.”
She grinned. Smooth didn’t come close.
“You didn’t stop to think that your examination might’ve made me uncomfortable.”
“Only in a welcomed way.”
She laughed softly. “Mr. Ramirez, you’re shameless.”
“And you’re beautiful. So beautiful, in fact, I’m tempted to whisk you away from here directly to my bed.”
A rush of heat flashed through her centre, tightening the tips of her breasts beneath her gown’s silver-white bodice. His gaze challenged hers even as it mesmerised and roped her in.
But she wouldn’t reward him with any hint of surrender. She was having far too much fun teasing.
Her gaze flicked away. “I hardly think that’s appropriate talk, here, in front of—”
“I’m not finished.” Hot fingertips ironed down the sensitive curve of her back, stopping at the small of her spine, coaxing her hips that much closer to his. He leaned near, her neck arced back and his parted lips grazed hers. “When you’re naked and trembling with want beneath me, I’ll devour you, first with my hands, then my mouth…”
She swallowed and trembled inside. “What then?”
“You know what then.” His calculating eyes crinkled at the corners. “You’re looking forward to what then.”
Her heart galloped on. “Has anyone mentioned you’re incredibly arrogant?”
The beast chuckled. “No one would dare.”
“I’d dare.”
“Like you dared to leave my bed at some ungodly hour this morning?” His fingers delved lower, over the arc of her behind, releasing a sensual spill of lava through her veins. “I pulled you back and you stayed another hour. I should have persuaded you to stay two.”
Melting from the inside out, she pretended to look over her shoulder. “Your hand’s a little low. What will the other guests say?”
His smile eased wider. “Lucky man.”
Sighing, she combed her fingers over his impossibly broad shoulder then upward to cup his firm raspy jaw.
Her lover of three glorious months was enjoying their private seduction game as much as she was. Every day they were together, the thrill of seeing each other—touching each other—only grew. The knowledge was like a brewing storm…intense, volatile, at times forbiddingly dark, at others super-nova bright. But there’d been no talk of a future. Nor would there be.
Some people’s pasts couldn’t be left behind.
Six years ago, seventeen-year-old Tallie Wilder from Constance Plains accepted that she’d put on weight for a reason. Quaking inside, she’d informed Chris Nagars in the dispatch room of his father’s hardware store that she was late. They were pregnant. Her boyfriend had spliced a hand through his shock of dark hair, had pledged his love and had split town the next day. Crushed, Tallie summoned the courage to tell her parents over Sunday roast.
She wanted to keep her baby.
At the head of the table, a dazed Jack Wilder had slowly hooked his thumbs under his braces while Tallie’s poor mother had cried softly into her dinner napkin. Constance Plains was an old-fashioned town. Girls who got in trouble weren’t forgotten, or forgiven, and at twenty weeks she was beginning to show.
The next month, walking home from the grocery store where she tended till, Tallie had been daydreaming of escaping Constance Plains, of being independent and smart enough to succeed, when she stumbled and hit the pavement hard. A crippling pain gripped her tummy before a rush of warm water emptied in her pants.
Her parents rushed her to the six-bed hospital where she’d given birth prematurely. May Wilder was by her daughter’s side the entire time, her near colourless grey eyes glistening with unconditional love and support.
“Of course we’ll keep the baby,” May had murmured, wiping Tallie’s brow as the nurse spirited the weak newborn away. “And she’ll be loved in our house. Your dad says so, too.”
Her brave baby girl had clung to life for two short hours. Tallie had been stroking her daughter’s little hand moments before she’d passed on. Although Minister Roarke’s bushy brows had drawn in disap-proval at the request, Katie May Wilder had been buried in the Baptist cemetery under the scarlet blooms of a poinciana tree.
The epitaph read, Never Forgotten.
A month later, the town doctor told Tallie that intrauterine scar tissue, resulting from the post-delivery curettage, could cause complications with fertility later on. Tallie didn’t care. She only wanted to die, too. If she hadn’t been daydreaming impossible dreams, if she’d been paying attention rather than falling and bringing her labour on early…
Four months later, Tallie escaped the small-town glares and thumbed a ride to Sydney.
She visited home the first Monday of every month. Her father had died two years ago from a stroke, but her mother still baked Madeira cakes for church functions, and Tallie’s presence still garnered glares. They only made her stronger. She no longer prayed for death. In fact, with each passing year she felt less and less.
Until Alexander.
Now, with the lilting strains of a ballad weaving around them, his chest so warm and the lighting just right, Tallie, or Natalie as she was known in the city, moulded herself against Alexander’s tall, muscular length. Resting her cheek against his dinner jacket lapel, she closed her eyes.
There’d be no happily ever after, no family of her own, most definitely not with Alexander Ramirez. Before they’d made love the first time, Alex had been upfront. He wasn’t ready to settle down. However, being the last male descendent of his line, when he did marry, starting a family and siring an heir to continue the Ramirez name would be of para-mount importance. The reputation of the woman who fathered his children would be above reproach. Her upbringing must also be suitable, and she would be as dedicated to the idea of family as he was. He would settle only for the best where the mother of his children was concerned.
Natalie wasn’t offended. He wasn’t implying anything about her. He was simply being candid and, at that turning point in their relationship, she couldn’t condemn his honesty. He wanted her to know the score, give her a chance to pull out.
He’d been a little taken aback at how easily she’d agreed to keep their affair “no strings attached” and “for as long as it lasted.” After all, she wasn’t the Miss Perfect Alex would one day marry. Quite the contrary. She as a high-school dropout with a pitted past and a near empty heart because of it. Still, she could pretend for a short time she was good enough for an exceptional man like Alexander. Tonight she would pretend she was whole.
He murmured against the shell of her ear, “Sorry I was late. I’m close to getting a firm commitment on that medical research venture I told you about. Dai Zhang dropped in this evening for a final run-through before signing next week.”
Alex had mentioned Zhang’s name several times. As was the case with the majority of his projects, Alex had been looking for a partner to co-finance trials of a new pharmaceutical. The money involved was staggering, but if the drug proved successful, all would benefit, not least of all dialysis patients. That previous trials of similar drugs had failed was a sticking point with the cautious Chinese businessman. However, it seemed that this evening Alex might have finally convinced Zhang this particular effort would bring about a breakthrough.
“I still could’ve collected you.” Alex’s sandpaper jaw grazed her temple before he lightly kissed the spot. “I wanted to.”
In truth, Natalie’s stomach had knotted when she’d walked into this ballroom unaccompanied tonight. Alex’s parents were deceased but she hadn’t met his sister and she wasn’t certain Teresa Ramirez, the one person Alexander listened to, would approve. Natalie hardly fit the famed Ramirez class. Not that Teresa, or anyone, need worry. Natalie certainly didn’t have marriage on her mind.
Finding a smile, she fanned her fingers over the crisp black fabric below his left shoulder. “You were already in the city. It made sense for me to take a taxi in from Manly. I was here alone barely five minutes.”
His dark eyes roamed her face, as if he were looking for some nuance or line he’d missed before. “Are you always so understanding?”
She laughed softly. “Always.”
Who was she to cast stones?
“When we finish this dance I’ll introduce you to Teresa and her fiancé.” His coal-black eyes smiled into hers. “They’ll love you.”
Natalie smothered a sigh. No avoiding introductions, she supposed, even when she preferred to keep their affair private. It would be easier when the time came. No explanations or awkward chance meetings with friends or family later. Just a simple, Goodbye. It’s been nice.
As he pressed her close, his cheek resting against her crown, Natalie wondered.
Would the decision to dissolve their affair be his choice or hers? As chief beneficiary of the Ramirez multiple millions, as well as a highly successful venture capitalist in his own right, surely Alex would tire of her sooner rather than later. He knew actresses, heiresses, a European countess. She was hardly Alexander’s first lover, nor would she be his last.
Or perhaps she would be the one to pull back.
Despite having agreed their time together would be a low-key, light-hearted and finite affair, it seemed the longer they knew each other, the more open Alex became about their relationship and the more inquisitive he grew. She didn’t need any more questions asked about her past. Her memories were too intimate to share…too private, and painful, to lay open to anyone, even Alexander.
But for now it was enough to enjoy the illusion.
Tonight she would forgive herself and make believe this fantasy would last.
“Alexander, a gentleman’s here to see you.”
Alex eased away from his beautiful dance partner to face Paul Brennan, his bodyguard, who stood as tall and broad as an oak. Paul’s gaze, as usual, was both shuttered yet cut-throat sharp.
All the long exhaustive day Alex had waited to hold Natalie Wilder in his arms. Who the hell was interrupting him in the middle of a family celebration?
Paul answered his employer’s unspoken question. “It’s Mr. Davidson.”
Alex’s brows nudged together. “What’s he doing here?”
Anticipating what Alex would say next, Paul rotated back. “I’ll ask him to leave.”
But Alex’s last-minute gesture held him up.
Was it a business concern? Several months ago they’d had dealings and Joe Davidson had come off second-best. Or was this interview personal? Something to do with Joe’s daughter? He and Bridget Davidson had dated briefly, but that had ended six months ago. He’d had nothing against Bridget, but if the chemistry wasn’t there, why delay the inevitable. She’d agreed.
Alex exhaled and nodded. “I’ll come over.” Sort it out quickly and get back. His sister had spent months organising this evening, from the buffet and music down to the pink and gold helium balloons bouncing around the moulded ceiling. Alex approved of Teresa’s choice in partner, too, which was no surprise. Teresa had her head screwed on right. Zachery Todd came from good stock, enjoyed life and clearly adored his fiancée. Both couldn’t wait to have kids.
Alex glanced at the exceptional woman standing beside him.
Engagements…children…
At age thirty, it almost made a man wonder.
Misunderstanding his look, Natalie stepped back. “It’s okay. I’ll wait here.”
Alex laced his fingers through hers. “I vowed that when I made it here tonight I wouldn’t leave your side. Come with me. This won’t take long.”
She arched a teasing brow. “Afraid someone might steal the next dance?”
“You can dance with whomever you please.” Grinning, he brushed a kiss against her brow. “As long as it’s with me.”
A moment later, they stopped before their uninvited guest and Alex extended his hand. His lip curling, Joe Davidson ignored the courtesy.
Inwardly groaning, Alex let his hand drop. “I take it there’s some problem?”
Davidson’s hard eyes settled on Natalie and his chin kicked up. “You don’t want your date hearing this.”
Alex’s jaw flexed. He was a patient man but he had no time for these kinds of games, particularly tonight.
“We’re celebrating my sister’s engagement. Please tell me what it is you’ve come to say. You’ll understand I’d like to get back.”
Amid the spin of party lights, Davidson’s walrus jowls darkened, but he kept his voice low, barely audible above the music. “Bridget’s pregnant. She’s not doing well. Not too well at all.”
Alex’s pulse rate spiked. Davidson was aware of Alex’s longtime friendship with a leading OB/GYN. Did Davidson hope to secure through him an urgent referral? If the circumstances were dire, why wasn’t the baby’s father here on the scene? Or wasn’t the father on the scene at all?
Alex tried to be tactful. “I didn’t realize Bridget was married.”
Davidson hissed, “She’s not.”
Alex’s shoulders rolled back. “What does this have to do with me?’
Blood in his eye, Davidson snapped out a curse and advanced. Paul’s large grip on his elbow hauled him back.
Alex held up a hand. “It’s all right, Paul. I’ll handle this.” His gaze drilled Davidson’s. “If you’re implying the child is mine, it’s not possible. Bridget and I were finished some time ago.”
“Like six months ago?”
At Joe’s response, Alex’s heart dropped to his feet.
They’d slept together only once, but he’d used protection. Excepting one, atypical time, he always used protection.
His head began to tingle.
Lord above, was it possible?

Chapter Two
Party noise filtered back into Alex’s conscience as Joe Davidson’s arms knotted over his dark polo shirt. “I take it you won’t object to a paternity test.”
Alex forced the words past the lump of wood stuck in his throat. “I need to speak to Bridget.”
“Hoping to pay her off?” Davidson’s burning eyes narrowed. “No amount will save you from taking responsibility for this.” The corners of his mouth dragged down in distaste. “You and your high-and-mighty family. Everyone knows where your grandfather got his money. Juan Ramirez was nothing better than a mobster.”
Alex eased forward, a subtle but one-time-only warning. “I’ll forget you said that.”
“Bridget kept this to herself,” Davidson went on. “Tonight she finally admitted the truth to her mother.” His voice cracked on a humourless laugh. “Can you believe it? Her life is ruined and she wants to save you from public scrutiny.”
Natalie shouldered past Alex. “Your daughter’s life isn’t ruined. She’ll have a beautiful baby and—”
Alex curled a quietening hand around her arm and tipped his chin at the exit. “It’s time you left, Joe.”
Paul Brennan edged forward. “I’ll escort you out.”
“You can’t sweep this under the mat,” Davidson seethed. “This isn’t the old days where families like yours shut people up. My daughter’s entitled to compensation.” Paul’s giant hand on Joe’s shoulder steered him toward the door. “You’ll hear from my lawyers…”
As the threats faded and Joe was marched to the lifts, Alex linked his arm through Natalie’s and turned at the same time the music paused. Below a sky of swaying balloons, curious faces were angled their way, including Teresa’s worried gaze, which found his from the far end of the room.
Straightening to his full height, Alex gave an “everything’s fine” salute, then led Natalie back to the dance floor.
The music faded back up but Natalie’s heels dug in. “How can you think about dancing?”
He studied her eyes, darker than their usual shade of green and yet full of indignant fire. “Nothing can be done tonight.”
He could strangle Davidson for making a public display of such a private matter, although it seemed obvious that performance had as much to do with Joe evening a past score. Joe Davidson was a successful hydraulics engineer. When Alex won a government contract for a purifying design four months back, Joe had accused him of “following family tradition” and bribing officials.
In truth, Alex had worked like a dog to assemble the right people with the right knowledge at the right price. That’s what he did best. He seized opportunities and made them work.
Her brow pinched, Natalie absently touched one pearl drop earring. “You’re right,” she murmured. “There’s nothing you can do right now. And if the child is yours…?”
Reaching the dance floor, he took her in his arms and began to lead. “I’ll cross that bridge if I come to it.”
God willing, there’d be no need.
Admittedly he’d had his share of intimate partners, but from the outset of each affair he was honest. He wasn’t after long-term. Recently, however, the attraction of short-lived affairs had worn thin. The reason was clear.
Natalie Wilder.
He’d never been smitten before and he couldn’t pinpoint why Natalie had taken such a hold of his sensibilities. His rational side said it was absurd, yet it was difficult not to think of her day and night.
She was beautiful, certainly. Intelligent, wellread, dignified. Everything any man could want in a companion. But the attraction—the deep-seated, powerful need—went beyond that. Something in her slumberous emerald-green eyes spoke to him. Something defiant yet almost sad. Something that begged to be released if only he found the right key.
Fact was, whatever unintentional spell she’d cast over him, he wasn’t prepared to have their affair end just yet. This misunderstanding with Bridget would be fixed, life would return to normal, and he and Natalie could go back to enjoying each day and each other.
“Alexander, I haven’t met your date.”
Brought back, he stepped aside then, smiling, dropped a kiss on his sister’s cheek. “Teresa, this is Natalie Wilder.”
Shaking back her exuberant mane of raven’s wing hair, Teresa clasped her hands under her chin. “At last! The mystery woman.”
Natalie hesitated. “Alex’s spoken of me?”
Teresa took Natalie’s hand. “More than once. My brother says you’re in real estate.”
Alex circled Natalie’s waist with his arm. “Agent of the Month, three months running.”
Teresa’s deep blue eyes flashed. “I’m impressed.”
Natalie wasn’t the type to brag so Alex blew her horn for her. “Natalie’s boss invested a lot teaching her the ropes, sending her to the best seminars, and it’s paid off. She’s his star agent.”
“Good for you!” Teresa exclaimed, genuine excitement shining in her eyes. “Do you plan to have your own agency one day?”
Natalie tilted her head. “As a matter of fact, I do.”
Alex’s brows jumped. First he’d heard of it. But then they knew so little about each other, or rather he knew so little about her.
Natalie cast an appreciative look around the ballroom, so alive with music, laughter and light. “It’s a beautiful party. Is your wedding date set?”
Teresa sighed. “Four torturously long months from now. Zach and I hope to have babies right away,” she explained. “Zach’s a twin, so two straight off would be wonderful. Having a happy family is so important to us both. Which reminds me…” She addressed her brother. “Alex, I was telling Zach about the Ramirez doubloon—”
Natalie cut in. “I’m sorry. Would you excuse me, please?”
With a polite but wooden smile, Natalie wheeled away and headed for the balcony doors, the folds of her silk gown undulating behind her in weightless silver-white waves.
Teresa cursed herself in their grandparents’ tongue. “Alexander, I’m so sorry. I’m not sure what I said but I didn’t mean to upset her.”
“You didn’t upset Natalie. Someone else did.”
“Your visitor?”
He squeezed his sister’s hand. “Get back to your party. I’ll explain later.”
He found Natalie standing by the ornate stone balustrade of the ballroom balcony, a harbor breeze lifting sable ribbons off her slender shoulders. Her hands were poised at her breast, her chin raised high as she stared off over the water as though seeing something he couldn’t.
In that timeless gown, standing composed in the moonlight, she looked like a goddess. A real-life Venus. Ravishing. Ephemeral. Tonight she was his.
Hands slipping into his pockets, Alex ambled forward. “Wishing on a star?”
She blinked out of her trance and met his gaze, an apologetic smile touching her lips.
“I’m sorry.” Dropping her hands, she set them on the railing. “Guess this night’s proving to be bigger than I’d expected.”
Joining her, he filtered a gaze over her lithe feminine form. Her scent reminded him of morning, like fresh dew on petals moments after dawn. Sunrise was the best time of day, particularly when he woke with Natalie nestled against his chest, her soft, even breathing blending with his.
He brushed a fragrant wave of her hair from her cheek. “I told you Teresa would like you.”
“Even after being so rude?”
“She’ll understand.”
Whether Natalie would come to terms with Joe Davidson’s news was another matter. He’d been jolted, too, but he wasn’t convinced he was the father of that baby. He needed proof positive and if the child turned out to be his…
Easing his other hand from its pocket, he perused the mysterious moonlit waters.
If the baby was his, of course he’d do what was right. First he’d need to figure out what “right” was. Financial and emotional support, no dispute. But marriage? Were gold bands going too far? Or was tying the knot, giving the child two full-time parents, the least he could do?
Following a talk with his father many years ago, Alex had made a vow: he would marry only after serious evaluation and an intelligent choice had been made. His father emphasised that choosing the right woman to be the mother of your children—choosing the right woman with whom to share your life and your bed—wasn’t a decision to be made lightly. Although his father admitted he’d been lucky, the kind of love about which the great poets lamented was rare and therefore not a true consideration; it was better not to love at all than to fall in love with the wrong type. Nonnegotiable, however, was the mutual respect that came from two people sharing the same values, principles and goals.
Alex had taken that conversation to heart. As a consequence, he looked for a certain criteria in his companions. For instance, he didn’t date single mothers—too many potential problems with exes for one. And yet tonight Joe Davidson had stated that he might have helped to create one. Talk about irony.
Releasing a breath, he rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ll get you a drink.” He could do with a stiff one himself.
She caught his sleeve. “This air’s calming enough.”
“We can leave if you’d rather.”
She pretended to scowl. “This is your only sister’s engagement party. We’re not going anywhere.”
Leaning back against the balustrade, he folded his arms, crossed one ankle over the other. “Guess I’ll be meeting your clan next.” Not that he’d envisaged sipping tea with her folks when they’d begun dating. He was curious, is all. He knew so little about her, which went against his usual rule where women he spent more than a little time with were concerned. Of course, paying her parents a visit would have to wait until after this pregnancy issue was sorted. He’d check with his obstetrician friend, Mateo, tomorrow. This confusion should be cleared up in a week, two at most.
When she kept her eyes on the flickering blankets of cityscape lights, as though she hadn’t heard his question, he angled his head. She’d closed up when Teresa had enquired about family, because of Bridget’s surprise pregnancy, no doubt. Still…“Do you realise you’ve never mentioned where you’re from?”
“Haven’t I?”
With a knuckle, he turned her chin and her wide eyes met his. “No, Natalie,” he said pointedly over a grin. “You haven’t.”
Her return grin included an overly patient look that said he was making a big deal of nothing. “I come from a very small, very ordinary town.”
“Called?”
“Called Constance Plains.”
“Doesn’t sound as if you miss it.”
“I don’t.”
“So you don’t plan on leaving Sydney anytime soon?”
“Not unless there’s a reason to leave.”
He pushed off the balustrade. “I can think of at least one good reason to stay.” The full moon’s light disappeared behind a cloud at the same time he gathered her close.
There hadn’t been a time when she’d denied his affection and tonight her body held no less warmth. Her mesmerising eyes searched his, the message in their jewelled depths unreadable but for one request. She wanted his kiss. Happy to oblige, he lowered his head.
When he covered her sweet mouth with his, the breath seemed to leave her body. Boneless, completely compliant, she dissolved against him as her hands on his chest wove up to hold his working jaw.
Raw desire licked through his veins as his hand on her shoulder hooked her slightly in. When he deepened the kiss, the quiet moan in the back of her throat confirmed that tonight’s news couldn’t affect how she felt.
She wanted him more than ever.
It had been such a long week. He couldn’t wait to get her home, to love her again the way she deserved to be loved.
But first…
Softy, reluctantly, he broke the kiss. Enjoying the heavy thrum of his heartbeat, he murmured, “We should get back.”
He was more than happy to celebrate this night with his sister, but frankly, he couldn’t wait to get Natalie Wilder back home and in bed.
Three hours later, he and Natalie thanked their hosts and left the thinning party crowd.
Alone together as the hotel lift door closed, Natalie asked, “Why do you have a bodyguard?”
Alex hit the ground floor key knowing he’d explained before, when they’d first begun dating. “Paul was my father’s man.”
“Was your father afraid for his life?”
She was alluding to Davidson’s barb about his grandfather being a mobster. Or was the inference closer to real time?
“You mean, am I afraid for my life?”
“Powerful men tend to have powerful enemies.”
The lift doors parted and they moved out into the hotel foyer, which was relatively quiet but for a group of vocal Canadians checking in.
“I’m not concerned about Davidson, if that’s what you mean. Besides there’s other duties a bright man like Paul can perform.”
Outside, a silver Bentley pulled up with Paul at the helm and Natalie grinned. “You mean like chauffeur?”
Placing a guiding hand on her back, Alex ushered Natalie out into an opulent sandstone forecourt, which was fringed by rustling palm trees and the hum of late-night traffic. “Paul wouldn’t like anyone else driving the Bentley.”
“It’s his baby, then?”
He stopped, quizzed her eyes. The B word hadn’t been mentioned since Teresa’s gaffe earlier. Now he had the biggest feeling Natalie would drive herself crazy with worry over the weekend when nothing could be done.
He waved off the hotel’s uniformed doorman then held her dainty hand in his. “I thought we agreed. I’ll speak with my people, but until then…”
“You really don’t think the child is yours.”
His jaw shifted and they began to walk again. He’d assure her as best he could. “I don’t. But I’m not so arrogant as to rule it out completely.”
That night Bridget had said she was protected. He certainly had been, but he could think of only one form of contraception that was infallible, and it was too late to talk about abstinence now.
They moved farther out into the cool night air at the same time Paul opened the Bentley’s back passenger door. Alex thought nothing of the man dressed in a rumpled jacket and jeans approaching. But when the man stopped and reached for something from beneath his jacket, Alex’s protective instincts flew into action.
“Can we get a statement, Mr. Ramirez?” the man said, revealing his notepad at the exact moment Alex stepped in front of Natalie and Paul shot forward to seize the man’s shoulders. The man stumbled back, the camera case slung over his shoulder swinging as his voice rose. “Is it true you’re denying the paternity of a child conceived six months ago?”
Alex served the reporter a withering look as Paul tussled him away.
But the man only raised his notepad higher. “How does Bridget Davidson feel about you abandoning her for another woman?”
“Paul.” Alex hooked an arm. “Let’s roll.”
With a parting shove, Paul rounded the hood as Alex helped Natalie into the backseat.
But the jerk wasn’t giving up. Someone had dropped him a tasty lead. Now he fought for the story like a rat after cheese.
Near the back window, the man dipped his ginger head and peered inside the car. “Are you Natalie Wilder?”
Alex caught the notepad and flung it in the gutter. “No comment.”
Perhaps a broken jaw would convince this guy to quit.
Either suicidal or just plain dumb, the reporter slung off another question. “Is it true you plan to marry Ms. Wilder?”
His face hot with temper, he slid into the seat beside Natalie as Paul revved the engine. Before closing the door, Alex gave his unequivocal answer.
“Yes. It’s true.”

Chapter Three
Natalie’s mouth dropped open as her heart back flipped then bounced to her throat.
She’d heard wrong. She must have.
Alexander Lucio Ramirez planned to marry her?
Absurd!
She pressed herself into the far corner of the Bentley’s sumptuous backseat. “What in the world were you thinking?”
Alex yanked on his black bow tie. “Foremost I was thinking how much I despise the media.”
Her cheeks burned. “So you throw fuel on their fire?”
Inclining his Hollywood square jaw, he flicked open his collar at the same time he flicked her a glance. “My life is my business.”
“Except now you’ve brought me into it.”
“You were already in my life.”
“Not posing as your fiancée!”
Exhaling, he pinched the bridge of his aquiline nose and clamped shut his eyes. “This afternoon everything was as it should be. I’d all but wrapped up a deal, was looking forward to tonight. Tomorrow we were spending the day together.” His hand dropped heavily onto his lap. “Then Joe Davidson waltzes in and detonates a bomb.”
Natalie bristled. Surely he was forgetting something, or more precisely, someone. “I wonder how unsettled Bridget Davidson must’ve felt when the stick turned pink.”
He edged over a look. “I don’t need to be reminded of my responsibilities should I be the father of that child.”
She shivered at the deep, determined timbre of his voice, but she wouldn’t let his irritation at the situation—at that reporter—stop her from getting answers.
She tipped toward him. “Why did you tell that man we’re getting married?”
He pressed a button and the transparent privacy screen between driver and passengers slid into place. “Maybe I did it for the hell of it.”
“Then you need to retract it. In fact—” She swallowed against the clot of nerves jumping high in her chest and forced herself to say the words.
Seemed the time had come.
“I don’t think we should continue to see each other right now.”
Alex didn’t speak. Merely turned his head with great purpose, his eyes sparkling like black diamonds as they flashed in a passing sidewalk light.
She siphoned in a shaky breath.
Clearly this situation called for a break. Maybe temporary. More likely for good. She’d always known it would come to this. Hadn’t they both agreed this wasn’t forever? Unfortunately goodbyes had come sooner than planned.
She held her trembling hands firmly in her lap. “This is getting way too complicated.”
“So you’re hopping on the first lifeboat out?”
She recoiled. The sting was as sharp as a physical slap. God help her, she wanted to shake him for turning this around.
“You’re acting as though this is my fault.”
His chin went up. “I only know if you needed my support I’d give it to you.”
Would he? Would he really?
Confused—angry—she turned from him and glared out the window. “I don’t expect anything from anyone.”
“I like your independent spirit but that’s taking autonomy a little too far.”
“Because I’m a woman?” The weaker sex?
“Because that statement makes you sound cold and you’re the furthermost thing from an ice queen I know.”
She pressed her lips together as regret stung behind her nose.
She was saying goodbye for Alex’s own good. Yes, for her sake, too. Two years ago a Sydney specialist had confirmed what the Constance Plains doctor predicted. Although the severity of the condition she’d acquired, Asherman’s Syndrome, was mild, he advised she not attempt to fall pregnant. If she happened to conceive, the risks to a foetus were grave and many.
She didn’t want to see anyone hurt, including Bridget’s unborn babe. She refused to stand in the way. Refused to hang on to silly Cinderella dreams that had zip chance of coming true.
An image of a tiny newborn’s hand flashed into her mind, and the light outside smudged as moisture blurred her vision.
Holding her roiling stomach, she concentrated to school her features and summon a level tone. “I would like to be dropped at my apartment, please.”
“No, carino. We’ll spend the night together at my home.”
Her fingers strangled her clutch purse. She wanted to scream at him, tell him she wasn’t worth the trouble. She wanted to jump out of this car and run as fast and as far as she could.
Instead she sent a thin smile. “Don’t you get it? It’s over, Alex. The boat’s already sailed.”
His dark eyes searched hers before narrowing almost imperceptibly. As the trip-wire tension tightened more, she quivered inside but didn’t back down. For everyone’s sake, she couldn’t.
Finally he sat back against the black leather seat. A muscle in his jaw twitched before he nodded and exhaled. “You’re right. Of course you shouldn’t be dragged into this. Forgive me.”
She gaped at him. Was he purposely trying to guilt her out? He’d said he needed her support. She’d flatly refused and still he forgave her.
Her fingers itched to touch his hard thigh. To let him know that she did care, and too much. Instead she clenched her hand into the cool silk of her dress. If Alex was the father of that baby, he didn’t need distractions. He would need to focus on priorities. She only wished she could explain.
She wasn’t the woman he thought her to be.
Dropping her head, she bit her lip.
“Alex, I—”
He found her gaze then wrapped an arm around her. His cheek pressed against her crown, he tugged her close.
“We’re both upset. Too upset to talk. Be still now and let me hold you for a while.”
Alex asked Paul to head for her address and when the car pulled up in front of her apartment building five minutes later, he slid out and opened her door.
“I’ll tell Paul to come back in the morning,” he told her, extending his hand.
She accepted his hand, so warm and big folded around hers, but she couldn’t accept the offer, no matter how safe and adored he made her feel. If she could hold on, be strong a moment longer…
“I’d rather say good-night here.” She managed a trite smile while her heart—her icy, barren heart—steadied itself not to break. “It’s been nice.”
Not listening, he cupped her nape, lowered his head to kiss her. But she turned her face and his warm lips grazed her temple.
“Good night, Alexander.”
He stepped away, stood stock still. Then, like an unleashed hurricane, he swung back toward the Bentley, his gravelled words trailing behind.
“I’ll say good-night, Natalie. But not goodbye.”
The next morning, Alex scowled at the page five headline.
Playboy to Marry Outsider. Socialite Girlfriend Pregnant.
Cursing, he hurled the paper at his kitchen counter.
His girl had left him, he’d been publicly hailed as a two-timing bastard and, as a side order, Dai Zhang must be wondering if Alexander Ramirez wasn’t a chip off his amoral grandfather’s block.
Every one of his ventures was run above reproach. Zhang’s money was destined for a sound project, one into which Alex had invested a fair stake of his own capital. He believed these research studies would make a difference, not only to his personal worth but also to the medical community who would benefit from improvements made to vascular tolerance of dialysis-dependent patients.
After reading that headline, however, it would be no surprise if Zhang, a respected businessman known for his high standard of principles, pulled out. Alex had worked hard to convince Zhang that these studies would succeed where others had failed, but this publicity made Alexander Ramirez look like a man who couldn’t be trusted. Particularly if this so called engagement was called off the same week it was announced.
He rubbed the back of his neck.
Unfortunately after last night’s events, Natalie had pulled the pin on their affair. This morning’s headlines would have her back up all the more. But Alex wasn’t prepared to have it end there.
The living room extension pealed.
Alex strode over, grabbed the receiver and growled, “Call back.”
“Mr. Ramirez?”
Unease rippled up his spine. “Who is this?” The voice sounded familiar. The next second he knew why.
“Mr. Ramirez, when are your nuptials taking place?”
His teeth clenched. “How did you get this number?”
“Natalie Wilder is unavailable for comment,” the reporter continued. “Does this mean the engagement’s off? Can you confirm that the party last night was a double celebration?”
Imagining the phone was the reporter’s head, Alex slammed the receiver down. Throwing up his hands, he strode away.
How to go forward.
What to do to save this mess from disintegrating more.
Then his faculties doubled back and swooped upon a phrase. Natalie was unavailable for comment? That reporter must’ve put her through the wringer already this morning.
He speed-dialled Natalie’s cell phone. Message bank. He got voice mail at her home number. Only one other place she would be.
When Natalie answered her office extension on the second ring, Alex sank into a nearby chair.
He smiled. “Good morning, carino.”
“Alex?” Two beats of silence. “I’m at the office.”
“We need to talk.”
“I’m not talking to anyone today unless they want to buy a property. I—I’m sorry but I have to go.”
She disconnected and he hung up, drummed his fingers on the desk and glared at the phone. “Stubborn woman.” Which was one of the reasons he liked her so much.
Alex stopped midthought.
What if, rather than a brash invention, his statement to that reporter had merely been a little premature? Now that the claim was out, perhaps he ought to make use of it, and in more ways than one.
Zhang was a man of principle, as was Alex. At the moment, nothing could be done about the paternity accusation. But perhaps he should stand by his engagement announcement. To retract now would only make him appear even less honorable in Zhang’s eyes, and when the paternity test came back, his name would be cleared.
And then there was Natalie.
When he married, he wanted a solid union: a calm, safe harbour for his children to grow up and excel in. Natalie seemed to possess all the qualities he admired—independence, charm, intelligence. And he couldn’t downplay how good they were together in the bedroom. Surely he could never tire of holding such a warm, giving body close to his. It stood to reason that kind of sexual compatibility would be a significant asset to any marriage.
No doubt Bridget would make some other man extremely happy. Her pedigree as A1 and she was sweet natured as well as attractive. But, even if it was proven that he had indeed fathered her child, Alex couldn’t contemplate sharing his life with Bridget Davidson. Natalie, on the other hand, would make a perfect wife. A wonderful mother.
Perhaps it was time.
He pushed up out the chair, entered his study and dialled open the sequenced lock on his desk’s drawer safe. A moment later he held the doubloon, a near priceless heirloom handed down from generation to generation. He’d respected its history, had every intention of following tradition. But now, as never before, he understood its true worth. He would do what was needed to carry on its proper succession.
And that meant winning Natalie Wilder back.

Chapter Four
Mateo Celeca swung open his harbor-side residence front door and gripped his friend’s hand. After a brief brotherly hug, he waved Alex through to the parquet entry.
“There’s a lot to be said for success,” Mateo closed the heavy door. “Finding time to catch up unfortunately isn’t one of them.” He folded his arms and slanted his head. “You look well, my friend.”
Alex took in Mateo’s olive complexion, striking today against his billowy white shirt and calico trousers. “You look better than well.”
“It’s the Mediterranean sun. When I visit home, I don’t want to return. Then Mama starts with her matchmaking, setting up chance meetings with ‘nice girls’, and I’m reminded why I need to get back.”
Alex joined in Mateo’s hearty chuckle. He’d visited “home” with Mateo one summer in their university days. Mama Celeca, Mateo’s grandmother, was a small lady with a big heart who believed every good man deserved a good woman. That summer he and Mateo had barely escaped Italy with their bachelorhood intact.
“You’ll find your Miss Right one day, Mat.”
“Perhaps you can give me some pointers.”
Alex cocked a brow. “You’ve read this morning’s paper, then.”
His hand resting on his friend’s back, Mateo ushered Alex through, past the polished honeywood staircase and down a wide hall, which boasted countless heirlooms and antiques, some dating back many centuries. Alex’s three-story Vaucluse residence was outstanding by anyone’s standards, but it still fell short of this kind of grandeur.
Mateo strolled with Alex toward the rear of his immaculate home. “From this morning’s story, your situation sounds…complicated.”
Alex exhaled. “I’ve heard that before.”
“From the expectant mother?”
“From the woman I’m sleeping with.”
“I take it you’re not happy with the father-to-be situation.”
“I could think of better scenarios.” Like Natalie being the woman pregnant with his child. That he could handle.
They entered the kitchen, an enormous sparkling affair, made all the more inviting by the faint scent of citrus and freshly grilled bacon.
Mateo retrieved two demitasses from an overhead cupboard and set the cups next to the espresso pot. “How are the women in your life coping?”
Alex gripped the back of a Chippendale chair. “One I haven’t spoken with in over six months. The other doesn’t want to see me again.”
Reaching for the pot handle, Mateo paused. “Perhaps I should offer you something stronger.”
Alex grinned. “Coffee’s good.”
Drinks poured, they moved out into the cobblestone courtyard. On the expansive back lawn, giant topiaries were pruned into animal shapes…a lion, a bull, two rams locking horns. A Mediterranean style water feature provided the perfect backdrop.
After setting his cup on the table, Alex lowered into cushioned wrought iron chair and Mateo did the same then asked, “How can I help?”
“I need to find out if I’m the father of that baby, and I need to find out fast.”
“Estimated dates?”
“If I am the father, twenty-four weeks.” He’d checked his PDA calendar late last night.
“Gestational age would be twenty-six.” Mateo’s pensive look cleared. “To get a more accurate estimate, we need an ultrasound. Scans are routine. Her GP or OB would likely have scheduled at least one. There’s no risk to mother or unborn child.” Elbows on the chair arms, he laced his fingers, index fingers steepled. “Now for some good news regarding prenatal paternity tests.”
Alex rubbed his brow. He could use all the good news he could get.
“Nowadays they’re easy to perform and results are available within days,” Mateo told him. “We need a blood sample from the mother and a simple mouth swab from you. The results are one hundred percent accurate on negative identification and ninety-nine point nine percent accurate on positive.”
“So if I’m not the father of the baby we’ll know conclusively.”
Mateo nodded and reached for his cup. “If you’d like the lady to see me, I’ll happily fit her in and arrange for the tests to be performed.”
Sounded good. “I’ll speak with Bridget…though I’ll need to get past her father first.”
“As I recall, you’re not Joe Davidson’s favourite person.”
Mateo knew about the hydraulics contract affair. “After last night I’ve officially hit the bottom of his Christmas card list.”
Mateo sipped, shrugged. “You have better things to worry about.”
Alex huffed over a wry grin. “Want to hear the real kick in the pants? Three months ago I met a woman I share an amazing chemistry with and now she wants to end our affair.”
“So you love this other woman?”
Alex sat back and gazed at the half-dozen sparrows darting across the flawless blue sky. “No. But I do know I love being with her.” Especially in the bedroom.
His parents had been in love. As a child their bond had made him feel safe. As an adult it had made him proud. Teresa and Zach had the right recipe, too. Their till-death-us-do-part vibes radiated out, an invisible yet powerful force. But he didn’t see that kind of all-consuming love in his future.
He agreed wholeheartedly with his father’s advice about choosing the right woman to marry. Raymond Vacanti, a friend from university days, had been less analytical. The month after Ray was left a sizeable inheritance, he’d fallen hard for a gorgeous, streetwise blonde. Two years into the marriage, Blondie got herself a good lawyer, filed for divorce, was awarded most of Ray’s money then moved onto the next chump. Anyone could see that woman was a heartless tramp. Poor Ray, however, had been blinded by love.
Alex had made his mind up early never to leave himself open like that. As his father had said, better not to love at all than to fall in love with the wrong kind of woman.
But Natalie…
Alex sat up and tugged his ear. “Natalie’s special.”
Mateo white teeth flashed. “That does sound serious.”
“I did say I intended to marry her.”
Mateo’s gaze dropped to his middle fingertip circling the rim of his cup. “And if you are the father of Bridget Davidson’s baby?”
“Guess we’ll know soon enough.”
“Indeed.” Mateo thought for a moment, then downed his coffee and sat forward. “I have tennis booked with Eddie Boxwell at eleven. Care for a hit? I promise to let you win a set.”
Alex chuckled. “Such a generous man.” He eased to his feet. “I have another stop to make this morning.”
“Bridget.”
“Natalie.” He cringed. “This is complicated.”
“You can’t change the outcome of that child’s paternity.”
“And I can’t turn back time.”
Mateo pushed to stand and strolled with Alex back toward the kitchen. “It’ll work out.”
“Is that your bedside manner talking?”
“Is it helping?”
Alex grinned. “I’ll let you know in a few days.”
Fifteen minutes later, after stopping to make a purchase, Alex entered the reception area of Phil McPherson’s Real Estate. A number of clients sat with attentive agents among strategically placed desks. In fact, the place was buzzing, but Natalie was nowhere to be seen.
On slick castors, the receptionist rolled a chair over from her workstation to the main desk.
“Can I help you, sir?”
Hands landing on the chest-high counter, Alex craned his neck to peer around the photocopier corner. “I want to buy a property. Nothing under ten million. I need your top agent.”
The woman’s chocolate-brown eyes rounded before she surreptitiously examined his monogrammed shirt, his Swiss brand watch. Then, doubling up on her smile, she rang through to an extension.
“Natalie, a gentleman here wants to look at properties.” A pause. “But he’s interested in nothing under ten mill.” She stole a glance at him from beneath her lashes. “Uh-huh. I’ll let him know.” She replaced the receiver and beamed over an anything-you-want smile. “Natalie Wilder will be right out.”
Her sentence wasn’t finished before Natalie breezed out from a back office, her gait catwalk-model worthy, her soft sable hair pulled back in an elegant workplace twist. When their gazes clashed, she stopped dead and the professional smile slid from her face.
“You.”
He could almost smell her fresh flowery scent from here. Could almost feel her sensuous curves moulded against his. God, he’d missed having her share his bed last night. Tonight they’d make up the deficit.
When her eyes narrowed, he remembered his story, which, he decided now, was true. Visiting Mateo this morning made him realise he needed to upgrade. More than that. His sleek and sizeable bachelor pad had served a purpose but now he would invest in a real home. A place in which he envisaged a woman. The sensual, bristling, goddess of a woman standing before him.
He nudged his chin at a poster to the right of the reception station. “I’d like to see that property.”
Natalie knotted her arms over her smart navy blue dress. “Sorry, I’m unavailable.”
He merely grinned. Wrong answer.
While the receptionist gaped at Natalie, Alex opened his mouth to coax her to agree, but another voice interrupted their discussion.
“Natalie, would you come through to my office, please?”
Alex’s attention skated over to a fifty-something-year-old who wore blindingly shiny shoes and slicked back hair. From the glint in his eye, Alex saw he was a man of purpose. The sign on his office door read, Principal, Phil McPherson.
Natalie held her breath.
She’d told Alex last night it was over. She’d told him this morning she wasn’t interested in meeting. Yet he’d ignored her—surprise, surprise—and now she had Phil breathing down her neck. If her boss had heard any part of their conversation, she knew what he wanted and it wasn’t to collect lunch orders.
Natalie eyed Alex. He looked so in control, so breathtakingly masculine and commanding, in deep blue jeans. The man was hot, pure and simple, in Armani or denim, fully clothed or without a stitch. Then she slid a look over to her boss and his allseeing eyes.
No use avoiding it.
A moment later, Phil closed his office door and, clasping his hands behind his back, rocked back on his heels. “Is there some problem, Nat?”
She tried for blasé. “No problem, Phil.”
“Then I suggest you show that man his property.”
“If you don’t mind, I’d rather some other agent look after him.”
“Sure. If you don’t mind finding another job.” Phil strode toward his desk. “You, better than most, know the commission on that size sale.”
“Of course I know, but—”
“Here’s something you obviously don’t know.”
He held up today’s newspaper, folded back to that dreaded page five. She’d almost hyperventilated this morning when she’d flicked through and had seen the photos: a picture of Alex looking devilish handsome at some black-tie romp had been butted up against a studio headshot of a stunning looking Bridget Davidson. It made Natalie wonder what on earth Alex saw in nothing-out-of-the-box her.
Phil dropped the paper. “That man is Alexander Ramirez.”
“I can explain—”
“Your personal life and lovers’ spats are none of my concern. I do know the phones are running hotter than usual this morning, I’m guessing because the today’s headline girl works here. I also know Ramirez is a serious man with serious money.” The groove between his thick dark brows eased as he tossed the paper back on his desk, next to his toppling in tray. “You’re the best agent I have. We need every commission we can get. These aren’t the best of times. We can’t afford to pass up even the suggestion of a possible sale.”
She chewed her lip.
The market was in a ditch, the more expensive properties included. Last week, a long standing agency had closed its doors. She couldn’t tell Phil that Alex’s enquiry was a ruse to get her alone. Or perhaps Phil suspected as much but was prepared to go forward with the inspection on the off chance the query ended in a sale.
No matter how she rationalised, when push came to shove, Phil called the shots.
Beaten, she shrugged. “You’re the boss.”
Phil slipped in behind his desk. “And you’re a trooper.”
She exited Phil’s office, closed the door and lifted her chin. Alex’s onyx eyes burned into hers. Oh, yes, he was serious, all right.
She moved to join him, crossing her arms again, a bid to convey some pretence of distance, not that she thought he would sweep her up and whisk her away. At least she didn’t think he would.
She cleared her throat. “Just so you know, I have a busy day ahead of me.”
His grin was lopsided and inherently sexy.
She swallowed and knotted her arms more securely over her churning stomach. “This won’t do any good.”
“Are you going to show me this property or not?”
“I’m going to show you this property, then I’m going to get on with my day.” When his grin eased wider, she dropped her arms and threw back her shoulders. “I’m not kidding.”
He took her elbow. “Neither am I.”

Chapter Five
Alex insisted on taking his car. He thumbed the vendor’s street into the GPS and a short time later pulled the gleaming black sports car into the exclusive address.
Natalie depressed a remote button and, like curtains introducing a spectacular stage, the colossal iron gates fanned open. Tall pencil pines stood guard on either side of a long paved drive, and immaculate gardens greeted them with stunning spring bouquets. At the far end of an emerald lawn resided a magnificent rendered building.
The Quinton mansion.
Parking beneath the enormous front portico, its columns twined with lemon bougainvillea, Alex slid out from the driver’s side and swung open her door. Stepping out, she scanned the interior. The air smelled of sweet floral perfume and generations of money.
“The owners are visiting the U.S.,” she told him in a professional tone. “They’re eager to sell.”
She felt his gaze on her, moving over her hair, down her limbs, leaving a glorious blistering heat in its wake.
Brushing down her dress, she willed the telltale fire from her cheeks. They hadn’t spoken during the drive here but she’d felt the force of Alex’s concentration as he’d negotiated the Sydney streets. He’d been formulating a foolproof plan to get what he wanted.
But she wasn’t a fool anymore, even where Alexander was concerned.
“The reporters have been onto you this morning,” he said.
She sighed. So it begins.
She moved ahead, up the broad stone steps that led to a pristine slate veranda. “The house has six large bedrooms, all with private sitting rooms and imported marble bathrooms—”
“They’ve been onto me, too.”
“—as well as two offices, a home theatre, an indoor pool along with outdoor swimming facilities, including sauna and ten-person hot tub—”
“I have an idea.”
She spun on him. “So do I. It entails getting back to my office and diving into some real work.”
His dark eyes sparkled in the dappled sunlight. “So you’re curious.”
The stern look slipped from her face, but damned if she’d grin back. “You’re incorrigible.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” His arm went out to bring her close but she dodged and headed toward the double front doors.
She turned the lock and stepped into a grand vestibule while Alex’s voice came again from behind. “The publicity hype will only get worse.”
She’d weather it. After Alex retracted his engagement statement, she’d simply keep her head down. Get on with her life. And never, ever become so involved with any man again. Not that any man could compare with Alexander.
An unnerving sensation seared the pit of her belly and she set her briefcase on the marble tiles resolutely.
Don’t think about the future. One step at a time. One day at a time.
But Alex wasn’t giving up. “We could work with the publicity rather than against it.”
Standing beneath an authentic French classic chandelier, Natalie angled slowly back. “Are you forgetting where this all started? There’s a woman who’s alone and carrying your baby.”
His eyes glinted. “That’s not been determined.”
“Then perhaps you ought to help organise some tests.”
She hated being snarky, but talk of buying multimillionaire dollar mansions or taking advantage of bad publicity wouldn’t help the situation.
“I spoke with a friend this morning,” Alex said. “Mateo’s a leading OB/GYN.”
Her ears pricked. He’d spoken of Mateo Celeca before. Alex and the doctor had been fast friends since high school.
“After samples are taken from both Bridget and myself, we should have the results of the paternity tests within a week.”
A wave of light-headedness swept over her.
If he was the father of that baby, they, as a couple, really would be over. No more acceding to games like today’s. He would need to be with Bridget Davidson and her baby. No way would Natalie place herself in the middle.
She reclaimed her detached air. “Then it’s going to be an intense week for you,” she said, starting up the stairs.
“With the publicity it will be for you, too…unless we make the best of a bad situation.”
She continued up the staircase.
“From the activity at Phil’s,” he went on, “I’m guessing your office was flooded with calls this morning. Celebrity does that.”
“That’s a steep price for a few leads. And when Phil realizes what’s going on,” that she was wasting her time here because this expedition was merely a way for Alex to get her alone and vulnerable, “I might not have a job.”
“My bet is, after today he’ll give you a big fat bonus.”
Still ascending, she clapped one thigh. “Well, of course! Being involved with a man who is supposedly marrying one woman while another is having his baby is clearly something to endorse.”
“Not everyone believes that two people who aren’t suited to each other should marry for the sake of the child. It’s a recipe for resentment and discord.”
“There’s a lot of old-fashioned folk who believe they should at least try.” The folk back in Constance Plains, for instance. Bunch of small-minded hypocrites.
And, dammit, she wouldn’t think about that, either.
She was halfway up the staircase when, as if by magic, he appeared before her, his powerful frame blocking her path. “And an equal amount of people would say I’m a man of principle for not going back on my word to you.”
Her heart pounded as he loomed over her. He was everything a man should be. A powerhouse of raw conviction and simmering sexuality.
And, she had to remember, he was no longer hers.
“There’s just one teensy problem. We weren’t, aren’t and never will be engaged. It’s a lie.”
“We can turn it into the truth.”
She made an impatient sound then wound up around him. But he clasped her hand and she was tugged back to face his steely gaze.
“I can’t do anything about Bridget’s claim,” he said. “Or that word is out we’re to be married. If I retract that statement now, I’ll look like an even bigger heel.” His brows knitted. “Zhang knows about my grandfather’s less than scrupulous reputation. Yesterday I convinced him that any investment would be safe with me. I told him I was a man of my word.”
“An honourable man who carries through on his promises,” she murmured, continuing his thread and hating that it’d begun to make some kind of sense.
This fake engagement had a business angle? Business implied impartiality, controlled feelings, calculated decisions.
And none of that meant she would go along with it.
“Cute plan,” she offered, “but I’m sure you’re aware of its flaws.”
He nodded grudgingly. “Zhang’s decision might not be affected by this story either way. On the other hand, if that newspaper report has swayed his opinion, perhaps nothing will swing it back. But even if Zhang doesn’t go through with this deal, I’ll have gained something more important.” His foot found the higher stair and he leaned in close. “A wife.”
Her eyes popped.
Wife!
She choked on a disbelieving laugh. “Whoa. Alex, listen to me. We are not engaged.”
Deaf, determined, he dug into his back pocket and presented a small velvet box, then sprang open the lid.
The strength in her legs dissolved. A huge solitaire diamond glittered up at her. She’d never seen a stone that big, that dazzling. That perfect!
A bubble of emotion caught in her throat. She swallowed before it went to her head.
This scenario was all wrong, from beginning to end. She couldn’t be engaged to him. She certainly couldn’t marry him. He was probably the father of another woman’s baby. Even if the tests came back negative, Tallie Wilder wasn’t exactly prime wife material. Not if the man concerned wanted a family.
Alex had made it clear that having a son and heir was a priority, and she couldn’t have another child. He wanted his wife’s reputation to be above reproach. In her hometown, her name was synonymous with scandal.
And there was something else. Alex hadn’t mentioned the reason a couple usually became man and wife. Oh, he desired her, enjoyed her company, treated her like a queen. But he didn’t love her.
A lifetime ago she’d dreamed of love where no sacrifice was too great. Where what mattered above all else was the other person’s feelings, security and trust. She’d imagined knowing the kind of love where forfeiting your most prized possession would be the least you could do if it eased your sweetheart’s pain just a little.
Then she’d lost her baby as well as any emotion, other than grief and regret. Having known Alexander had brought her back to life. She still believed in that unique kind of love, maybe even for herself. She certainly wouldn’t marry without it.
But while she felt sure Alex would make a wonderful, committed father, she wasn’t certain he was capable of that kind of unconditional affection where a woman was concerned. To a shrewd man like Alex, deep romantic love would equal vulnerability, Samson and Delilah style. She had only to remember how coolly he’d relayed the standards he’d accept in a wife, or his suggestion a moment ago that they follow through with the engagement primarily because of business, to be sure of that.
He wanted the ideal wife and mother and he’d chosen her. What a joke.
Needing to escape—needing to breathe—she jogged back down the stairs. “Alex, don’t do this.”
“Because you had a more romantic offer in mind?”
Her heels clicking again on the vestibule tiles, she made a beeline for the door and tried to dissuade him with what was clear. “We’ve known each other three months.”
“I’m looking forward to getting to know each other more.”
If he knew about her pregnancy, he’d be running rather than chasing. That night six years ago still haunted her. The thought of dredging up all those hopeless, horrible feelings, then having him walk out, made her insides churn enough to retch.
Why couldn’t he simply forget this crazy plan? Why wouldn’t he accept her decision?
“I won’t go along with a fabricated engagement to prove you’re a man of your word.”
“Then do it for the obvious reason. Because we belong with each other.”
He didn’t know what he was talking about. How could he belong with a woman who couldn’t bear children? She might as well not be a woman at all.
The finality of that knowledge hit again, winding her like a medicine ball to the stomach. She stopped at the door, one hand on the doorjamb, the other on her midriff while tears filled her throat.
At her back, two hands cupped her shoulders as his hard frame pressed in.
“Carino, would it be so bad being married to me?”
She swallowed back emotion. “That’s not the question you should be asking.”
“Then what?”
Her throat thickened more. “You could very well be the father of that baby and you don’t know?”
His fingers clamped her shoulders more before his hands lowered.
“There’s more to this, isn’t there?” he asked, and she froze.
Did he know something about her past?
“I think I understand,” he ground out, “and I admit it might not be what you’d hoped for in a marriage…regularly caring for another woman’s child as if it were your own.”
Natalie blinked several times and slowly turned. Her voice was an incredulous whisper.
“You’d want me to help look after the baby?”
Engagements, marriage…she hadn’t thought ahead to visitation or shared custody if the baby was his. She shouldn’t now because what he proposed was impossible. She’d already inadvertently caused the death of one child. She shouldn’t be responsible for another baby, even part-time.
A palm against her sick stomach, she shook her head again. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”
His eyes dimmed more. “You don’t like children?”
“I adore them.”
“You don’t think you could love a child that’s not yours?”
Oh Lord. “That’s not the problem.”
Finding her hands, he clasped them to his chest. “We’ll have our own children.”
Her throat ached so much, she could barely find her voice. “And that’s what you want, isn’t it Alexander?” What you need. A son. An heir.
“Do you know what I want?” His dark penetrating eyes searched hers. “I want you.”
She let go that breath.
He’d said want, not love, two totally different things.
But if she accepted this proposal, she would be a part-time mother of a child. Alexander Ramirez’s child. She’d given up all hope…
Her heart squeezed.
She shouldn’t even think such a thing. And just where would a marriage to Alex leave the unwed mother? Surely Bridget Davidson would want to marry the father of her child, particularly when the man concerned was Alexander.
And what of his suggestion that they have children of their own? Impossible.
Pressing the heel of her hand against her pulsing temple, she tried to think straight. There seemed a thousand ways this could go, but with only one likely outcome.
Someone would be hurt.
She shook her head, harder this time. “It won’t work.”
“Give me one good reason.”
Everything. “It’s all…too big of a gamble.”
“Life’s a gamble.”
She sighed.
How would he react if he knew he’d proposed to a woman who was considered trailer trash back home? Who’d fallen pregnant then had inadvertently caused a miscarriage. Lump on top of that the fact she was now barren and he’d hit the jackpot in women not to marry.
He wanted her?
He wanted only what she’d been willing to show of herself to the world.
He changed the subject.
“What’s your opinion on this house?” he asked, looking around.
Preoccupied by her thoughts, her reply was an automatic response. “I think it’s a stunning investment that will only increase in value.”
“You’d live here?”
“A sheikh would be happy living here.”
“Then contact the owners.”
Stunned, she stared at him. “That’s crazy.”
“You told me this is a good investment.”
“Haven’t you heard? Real estate agents aren’t known for their integrity,” she said pointedly.
His gaze intensified. “I shouldn’t trust you?”
A strange calm fell over her and she knew if she told him about her past now, everything would change in an instant. He could do way better. He just didn’t know it yet.
And the more sensible part of her—the part that adored him—didn’t want him to know.
“And if I said you shouldn’t trust me?” she asked.
“Then I’d have to go with gut instinct.”
She didn’t have time to think, to move. His strong arms were already around her, drawing her near, holding her against the pillar of the wholly masculine frame. The tips of their noses touching, he looked into her eyes, into her soul. She saw a fire flicker in their depths, then that familiar hunger and conviction leap and darken the irises more.
Time wound down as his mouth descended over hers. Her lips parted and then…
Then she was released. Or was that condemned? As he pressed closer, his tongue edging over and around hers, the kernel of desire low at her core condensed more, pulsing, burning, urging her to surrender reason and simply be.
When he gradually drew away, his eyelids were heavy, his breathing, too.
“I don’t regret my slip last night to that reporter,” he said, “because it crystallised in my mind what I want. I want a home, Natalie. It’s time I settle down. We’re good together. It can work.”
She had to push him away. Tell him now how blind and mulish he was. Instead her fingers kneaded his chest.
“Don’t do this.” He was making her head spin, working his charm until she barely knew which way was up.
His shoulders rolled back. “Wear my ring.”
Since the day they’d met, her life had seemed surreal. Men of Alexander Ramirez’s calibre didn’t inhabit her world, not the world of backwoods Tallie Wilder, anyway. When her baby had gone to Heaven that night, she’d given up on herself. She hadn’t wanted happiness. She hadn’t deserved it.
And yet how could she deny what she felt for Alexander? He helped fill that bleak cold hole inside her. When she was with him it was as if the shroud she’d worn for six years was, in part, removed.
Her more rational side knew there could be no engagement. The baby would be his and when he laid eyes on his child, Alex’s protective nature would win out and he would want to marry Bridget. Be with his child. And if Bridget needed persuading, he’d do that, too. How could she—the ‘other woman’—condemn them? Natalie only wished it was her.
“Phone the owners.”
She blinked back from her thoughts. He was still on about the house.
“It’s getting late now in Chicago,” she told him.
“I doubt they’ll mind having their dinner disturbed.”
She gauged the tilt of his mouth.
Hell, he was really serious. And if he truly wanted this house, she shouldn’t talk him out of it. There would simply be a different mistress living here than the one he imagined now.
But, given her shaky state, how well would she conduct an overseas call that potentially meant many thousands of dollars in commission for Phil’s?
She studied his implacable expression again and sighed.
Guess she’d find out.
Twenty minutes later, the delighted vendors agreed to Alex’s negotiated eight point seven-five million offer and had said to fax through the documents to their lawyer.
Thrilled, and a little shocked, Natalie slipped her cell phone into her briefcase. “That has to be the easiest sale I’ve ever made.”
“And now I’d like to see the rest of my investment.”
Her eyebrow lifted. “A little back to front.”
“Whatever works.”
Given she’d made a healthy commission and the Quintons were ecstatic, she couldn’t argue. She’d simply need to put the other, unrealistic matter out of her mind. Engagements, the possibility of being a part-time mother…
It wasn’t happening.
Gathering herself, she waved toward the back of the house. “Let’s start with the kitchen.”
“I’m not a cook. I want to see upstairs.”
He purposely brushed past and started up the stairs.
She tightened her lips. Damned if she’d give him the satisfaction of arguing. Irrespective of any ulterior motive he might have, she was acting as the Quinton’s agent. She had to comply and show the new owner the second story. No matter what he threw at her, no matter what he said or did, she must remain professional.
When they reached the top of the stairs, she kicked off her commentary.
“There’s four bedrooms on this floor, each with their own sitting room. There are two more bedrooms downstairs as well as a separate quarters on the grounds for live-in staff.”
He was ducking his head around a bedroom doorway. “This looks nice.”
Natalie followed. The guest room. Her favourite room.
“It was newly decorated before the Quintons left for overseas.” She was drawn by the smell of freshly laid carpet and breathtaking scenery visible beyond the fall of exquisitely designed pelmets and drapes. “These views are as stunning as the main bedroom’s.” In fact, better, she thought. “You can see the bridge from here, the long blue stretch of harbour. And the breeze through these windows when they’re open—”
A click sounded at her back. Her stomach fluttered and she swung around.
The door was shut and Alex was strolling toward her, his step deliberate. The gait of a man in no doubt about what he wants or to what lengths he’ll go to attain it.
Natalie slid back one foot. “Alex, what are you doing?”
“The contract, once signed, is unconditional. This house, this bedroom, is as good as mine.”
Quivering at the hungry gleam in his eye, she backed up more. “This is inappropriate.”
“That’s an interesting word. I’d have said inevitable.”
Of course she’d known he’d planned this ambush of sorts. However, “If you think I’ll let you undress me, here, in the middle of the day—”
“And make love to you long and hard?” He undid a shirt button. “Yes, carino, I think you’ll let me.”
The back of her legs hit the bed. He joined her and, without invitation, pulled the single clip from her hair then unzipped the back of her dress. Her more rational side silently protested, but she didn’t stop him. Simply stated, at her most basic level, she wanted this and Alexander knew it as well as she did.
“You honestly don’t have any shame, do you.”
He peeled the dress from her shoulders. “Not where you’re concerned.”
He kissed her deeply and when her mind was wheeling, he skimmed his mouth down her neck, her cleavage, until his teeth grazed the gauzy fabric of her lace crop top bra. She bit back a cry as her nipples hardened against his mouth and her dress fell in a puddle at her feet.
His fingers wound into the scarlet lace and, in one fluid movement, he stripped the top up over her head. With obvious appreciation, he took time to study her breasts, weighing their fall as the pads of his thumbs brushed and teased the tips. When his head lowered again and his tongue twirled over one burning nipple, then the next, she sighed and her neck rocked back.
She was on fire.
Eyes drifting shut, she held his head in place. “Is the door locked?”
“No.”
He sucked the sensitive bead fully into his mouth and a searing fountain fizzed through her veins. Still, her gaze edged toward the door.
“This doesn’t feel right.”
“Liar.” As if he owned her—and at that moment he did—he scooped his hand down the front of her lace hipster shorts. “We always feel right together.”
His other hand supporting her spine, he tipped her back and she sank into the silky spread. One knee on the mattress, he took hold of her last item of clothing. His absorbed gaze travelled all the way up her perpendicular legs to her pointing toes as he eased her hipsters off.
He brought her feet down and set them on the mattress a little apart. When a feather-light kiss brushed her inside thigh, she involuntarily bucked and whimpered.
She felt so alight. And exposed.
“At least draw the curtains.”
He chuckled, a deep throated sound that let her know he was enjoying her show of modesty.
“You know I love your body. The way you feel, the way you look.” The warm tip of his tongue trailed across her bikini line. “The way you taste.”
When his mouth dipped more and he kissed her there, tenderly at first then more boldly, she arched and reached to knot her fingers in his hair.
He knew her weakness. Knew how to make her fly.
She hadn’t had many lovers, but she knew enough to be certain his style was natural, a talent that was as innate as soaring and hunting were to a hawk. When he touched her, loved her, her cares evaporated into mist. Where they were didn’t matter. She only longed to feel his hard heat pressed close.
She wove her fingers through his silky hair. “When are you going to take your clothes off and join me?”
His only reply was the skilled attention of his circling tongue.
She sighed.
No one had a right to be this good.
The spiral climbed quickly and she wet her lips. “Alex…come up here.”
His hands wove up her stomach and sculpted over her breasts, his thumbs and forefingers rolling until the concentrated sensations were so bright and powerful she could have wept. Her head lolling to the side, she groaned as her core compressed tighter around a deepening pulse.
Then, for two suspended beats, there was that eye-of-the-storm calm before her climax ignited and flung her to the stars. Biting her lip to stem a cry, she gripped the quilt at her sides as her mind and body exploded with raw pleasure that seemed to go on forever.
When finally the contractions wavered and began to die, drained, elated, tingling and never more sated, she didn’t have the energy to move. She was barely aware that he’d left her until she dragged open her eyes.
He stood watching her, telling her with his eyes that she was his. Only his.
She held out her arms to him. He kicked off his shoes, discarded his clothes and extracted a condom from his wallet. When they were protected, he threw back half the quilt and scooped her up in his arms.
“This will be our room,” he said, laying her on the cool sheet and nuzzling into the sweep of her neck.
When his body covered hers, she jumped, still so sensitive as he slid partway in and began to move.
He pressed a lingering kiss to her brow. “You will wear my ring.”
Looping her legs around his thighs, she ran her fingertips over the hot damp mound of his back. “I can’t think now.”
“I don’t want you to think. I want you to feel.”
He thrust again, bumping her closer to a second orgasm. “My ring, Natalie.”
Whether it was his bone-melting heat sliding against her or the dark-chocolate voice at her ear, in that moment he convinced her. This was their house, their new beginning. She did feel, and she felt wonderful. So utterly right she was dizzy with the magic of it.
She groaned as that spiral rose higher, squeezed tighter.
“Yes,” she murmured.
Please, just…
Yes.
His mouth slanted over hers.
As fireworks flared again, she held him close and let the tidal wave swallow them both whole.

Chapter Six
After returning to work for a couple of hours, she and Alex spent the night together. The next morning Natalie headed home.
Not that she liked referring to Constance Plains in those terms. But she’d grown up there, had built her first dreams there. Constance Plains was where her mother lived and where a piece of Natalie’s heart would always remain. Going back was hard, but also somehow cathartic.
In a strange, sad way, going home was sacred.
On the final isolated stretch of highway, zipping past the landscape of scattered gums and kangaroo grass, she selected a favourite CD. But even cranked up urban couldn’t drown out the concerns that had tumbled through her mind since the weekend’s astounding run of events.
Her gaze drifted to her left hand holding the wheel. The setting was dazzling, any girl’s dream engagement ring, a cushion-cut single white diamond of who knew how many carats. Alex had been so persuasive about her wearing it. In hindsight she’d never stood a chance of refusing him. His reserves of sex appeal and charm exceeded any man she’d met or was ever likely to meet in the future.
Truth was she was attached to Alexander, hopelessly drawn to his intensity, as much as air was sucked into a fire or rain was absorbed by the sea. More and more he consumed her, but he also made her feel…connected.
As a smile touched her lips, a ray of morning sun caught the rock and the diamond flashed, shooting a stab of light back from the steering wheel. Squinting, Natalie shielded her eyes at the same time a truck roared up out of nowhere, its monster horn blasting as it passed.
Instinctively she yanked the wheel. The car swerved, fishtailing and skidding to the shoulder of the road. Foot to the floor on the brake, she pictured her heart hammering in her chest as every speck of mortal strength rushed down her rubbery legs and the car jolted to a stop. Dumping a head-tingling breath, she dropped her forehead on the wheel.
Remarkably she didn’t think about her near collision. She could think only of the incredible moment Alex had slipped that ring on her finger.
Alex cared for her. He sincerely wanted her to be the mother of his children. But he didn’t know anything about her. Didn’t know she could never give him a legitimate heir. On top of that, his marriage proposal had a side agenda: publicly recanting the engagement might do his dealings with Mr. Zhang more harm than good.
Then again, she’d had a side agenda, too—a baby who might someday, in some measure, look upon her as a mother.
Dragging her brow off the wheel, she studied the stone on her third finger again. Today May Wilder would learn that her daughter had agreed to marry, and that her fiancé hadn’t the faintest idea about her past.
Was she leaving it too late to pull out?
Releasing a shaky breath, she rolled her tense shoulders and swung back onto the highway. Thirty minutes later her Rav 4 veered into her mother’s drive, on either side of which sat a sagging chain mail fence.
May must’ve heard the engine. By the time Natalie walked from the cracked cement drive to the house, May was standing on the porch, wiping her hands on a red-striped tea towel.
A heartfelt smile lighting her face, her mother flipped the towel over her shoulder and extended her arms. Relishing the comforting warmth, Natalie burrowed her face in her mother’s shoulder, wishing her father were here, too.
After a long moment, May pulled back, her grey eyes glistening with unbridled love and pride. “You look so well, Tallie.”
Natalie smiled. “So do you.”
But in truth her mother’s hair looked frizzy and her shoulders were slightly stooped. In her mother’s eyes Natalie recognized again what she’d seen last visit. She was lonely. When her father died, she’d asked May to come live with her but she’d stoutly refused. This is where her life with Jack had been, May had said. She wouldn’t leave, no matter what.
Now with her usual brave face, May linked an arm through her daughter’s and swung open the screen door. “I put a roast on for lunch. The potatoes are browning.”
Natalie stepped into the tidy living room. Fresh snapdragons fanned from a vase on the TV, the same washed out landscape paintings hung on the wall. The surroundings were reassuring yet unsettling, too.
Memories in every corner.
Bringing herself back, Natalie nodded. “A roast sounds great.” Smelled great, too.
“Was it an easy drive from Sydney?”
“A breeze,” Natalie fibbed as May crossed to flick on the air-cooler and she sank onto the couch.
“I have your room ready in case you’d like to stay over.”
“Sorry. Can’t. Work tomorrow.”
“Well, the invitation’s always there.”
Crossing back, her mother’s gaze landed on her daughter’s hand, on the ring, and she hesitated before folding down beside her. Natalie had purposely kept the ring on so she couldn’t back out of confessing. But now her stomach looped in guilty knots. She was not looking forward to this talk. It reminded her of a past conversation, only this time she wasn’t the girl who’d got in trouble.
Smoothing down her skirt, Natalie siphoned in a steadying breath. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
“About Alexander Ramirez?”
Natalie’s brows hitched. “The story made the local paper?”
May’s smile was wry. “We do get the city paper way out here in the sticks.”
“As far as I remember, you weren’t interested in either.”
“My neighbors are.”
“Of course. I should’ve seen the smoke signals spreading the news when I drove in.”
Despite Natalie’s sarcasm, her mother smiled and held her hand. “He looks very handsome.”
“He’s…” Natalie swallowed the word nice, then decent. They didn’t seem to fit.
“He’s very good to me.”
“I’m sure he is.”
“He’s what’s known as a venture capitalist. They invest in other people’s ideas.”
“There was a small write-up about that, too.”
Natalie nodded, stalling, trying to find the right words. Her mother wouldn’t bring up the other information contained in that article, the claim that another woman was pregnant with Alexander’s baby.
May Wilder would stick by her daughter under any and every circumstance, but Natalie couldn’t bear to think about the added stares and whispers her mother would endure from this town’s population after this. Whispers about that Wilder girl getting herself into strife again.
Natalie rearranged her hands in her lap.
“You know it’s not certain that Alexander’s the father of that child,” she finally said, and her mother blinked several times.
“Oh? The reporter seemed sure.”
Natalie huffed. The reporter was a slimeball.
“Alex has a friend, a doctor, who says paternity can be determined quickly.”
May tipped closer. “I want you to remember, this isn’t your fault. You wouldn’t have agreed to marry him if you’d known.”
At a twinge of shame, Natalie dropped her eyes. “It’s a little more complicated than that.”
But how could she explain? How would it sound?
I am wearing a man’s ring when he knows nothing about my past, that I can’t bear his children. I know I have to tell him and when I do that will be the end. But I can’t help thinking about that baby, about giving her the love I wasn’t able to give my own.
Natalie’s nose stung at the threat of tears at the same time May’s arms wrapped around her.
Her mother didn’t speak for the longest time, but when she did it was in a supportive tone that tugged at Tallie’s heart. “You don’t have to go through with it if you don’t want to.”
She clamped her burning eyes shut. Her mother didn’t understand. Natalie wasn’t sure she understood.
Her mother’s voice lowered more. “Do you love him?”
She thought it through. She loved her parents, she’d loved her baby. After that horrible black day six years ago, she’d never wanted to love anyone again. She hadn’t thought she was capable.
“Alexander and I…we get on very well,” she murmured truthfully.
“That’s always a good sign.”
“He treats me like a lady.”
Her mother’s smile was reminiscent. “So he should.”
“He doesn’t know…doesn’t know about—”
She bit her lip, damming the sudden rush of emotion.
Her mother hugged her daughter tighter. “Tallie, you were always a good girl. Even good girls can take a wrong turn.”
But Natalie pulled away and growled. She was sick of feeling seventeen.
“I wish I could go back.” If only she hadn’t stumbled that day. If only her baby had lived. God, she’d felt so helpless. “I wish I could squeeze all the horrible memories from my mind. Sometimes I think I have. But I’ve only ever pushed them down.”
“It was God’s will.”
“Then why do I feel so responsible?”
“Because you’re a deeply caring person who has a wonderful heart. That’s why I believe in you. Why I’ve always believed.”
Wrung out, Natalie searched her mother’s gentle gaze. “If the baby is his, Alex should marry the mother of his child…shouldn’t he?”
Not me.
Not even when she could already feel that dear baby in her arms. Knew the lullabies she would sing.
Her mother’s mouth tightened. “Do you know what I really think?”
She shook her head. “Tell me.”
May held her daughter’s flaming cheek and Natalie saw that her mother’s eyes were edged with tears. But then May smiled and stood, urging Natalie to her feet as well.
“I think we need a strong cup of tea.” Bright again, May showed her only child to the kitchen. “After lunch, we’ll see darling Mrs. Heigle over the road. She loves your visits, too.”
The sun was a shimmering orange ball melting into the horizon by the time Natalie headed out of town.
After kissing her mother goodbye, she’d gone to spend an hour beneath the graceful umbrella of that poinciana tree. Following tradition, she replaced last month’s soft toy—a small pink bear—with a new toy, a purple poodle puppy. Then she’d sat on the grass, gazed at the headstone, saying nothing.
Only wishing.
Now, as she cruised by the faded sign that read, Visit Constance Plains Again Soon, a car passed her coming in and Natalie did an unconscious double take.
Nothing unusual about the vehicle—your everyday, run-of-the-mill four-wheel drive. It was the glimpse of the driver that niggled. She wasn’t sure why until ten miles out when the fleeting snapshot she’d caught gelled with the information knocking at her brain.
But then she laughed, shook her head.
That driver had ginger hair, yes. Didn’t mean he was the reporter from the other night. Even if he, or anyone else for that matter, had wanted information on her, Internet and phones would be far quicker than an eight-hour round-trip like the one she’d complete today.
Which reminded her.
Natalie selected a CD then, settling into her seat, stifled a yawn.
She wouldn’t reach Sydney until around nine. After a couple of restless nights, she couldn’t wait for her head to hit the pillow. Even thoughts of Alexander and their uncertain future wouldn’t ward off the Sandman tonight.
Her limbs were aching weights when, hours later, she steered into her apartment block’s driveway. With a heavy arm, she swiped her keycard and the automatic gates leading to the underground car park rumbled up. Then something in the shadows caught her eye. A car, and this time the model was highly distinctive.
Sleek black Audi R8s weren’t so run-of-the-mill.
Suddenly alert, she steered her car beneath the gate and swerved into her park. By the time she collected her bag off the passenger seat, Alexander stood by her door, reaching for the handle. A moment later, his warm hand gripped her elbow to help her out.
His face was dark and voice curiously gravelled. “It’s after nine. I was beginning to worry.”
A part of her was touched by his concern, but a bigger, thoroughly ragged part was slightly peeved.
“No need,” she said, winding casually out of his hold. She’d been doing that drive for six years and she’d continue to do it for another sixty.
Then, through her exhaustion and jolt of his unexpected appearance, the obvious question dawned.
She studied him more closely. “Alex, why are you here?”
Was something wrong with Bridget…with the baby?
“It’s been a crazy day,” he said, walking with her to the lift, his eyes cast down. “I’ve needed to make some decisions. Decisions that affect you.”
“Is Bridget all right?”
“I spoke with her briefly. Mateo said he’d fit her in anytime, but it was hard pinning her down to a day.” He stabbed the lift’s call button. “She said she wishes none of this had happened. She apologised for dragging me into it.”
Her heart dropped more. Bridget Davidson sounded sweet. Someone who deserved a good man as well as a nice life for herself and her baby. Natalie almost felt she knew her.
She found her voice over the stone stuck in her throat. “I’m sure you told her that you feel as responsible as she does.”
He slid over a look. “As I’ve said before, if I’m responsible, I’ll be there for them both, no question.”
After they stepped into the lift, Alex closed his eyes and rubbed his brow while Natalie pressed her floor’s button and a warning tingling stole up over the back of her scalp.
He looked so preoccupied. So drawn. Was she jumping to conclusions or was the decision he’d made today concerning her linked to his last statement? Was he here to tell her that he’d had a change of heart? Perhaps after his discussion with Bridget today he’d decided that, if the baby was his, he’d be there for them in more than a single-parent, part-time kind of way.
It shouldn’t be a surprise. Alex staying with the mother of his child was the morally right thing to do. She couldn’t forget how Chris Nagars had run out on his responsibilities. He’d turned his back, not only on her but also on the baby she’d carried.
She turned her face toward the wall.
Then again, she was no angel. She’d had her own reasons for kidding herself and accepting Alex’s ring. Fact was, Alex should focus on Bridget and that baby now, and they both knew it.
“I spoke with your boss today.”
She straightened and concentrated on his words. Alex had spoken to Phil? “About the Quinton house?”
“In part. Given you were unavailable, I asked him to arrange for the contract to accommodate rent before handover.”
“You plan to move in straightaway?”
“Yes, I do. With you.”
Her breath caught. One minute he was announcing he would be there for Bridget. Now he’d decided to move in with the other woman?
She raked a trembling hand through her hair. “I don’t suppose you considered asking me first?”
“Not after seeing the six o’clock news.”
She studied the hard edge to his mouth, the penny dropped and a withering feeling fell through her.
“I don’t believe it,” she murmured, cringing at the thought of having their private lives highlighted on prime-time TV. “Don’t they have better things to report on?”
“Apparently not. They even found some vision of my grandfather in his heyday.” His frown deepened. “A camera crew was waiting outside this building until thirty minutes before you pulled up. I thought they might’ve gone to hunt you down…” He gave a thankful grin. “Anyway, you’re safe. But you can bet they’ll be back and they won’t be gracious.”
Retrieving a key from her bag, Natalie crossed to her apartment’s front door. His protective instincts were laudable but clearly Alex hadn’t thought this through.
“Even if I move out of here, they could still corner me at work if they want to.”
“You don’t need to go to work.”
She stopped to slant her head at him. “I beg your pardon?”
“You’re on vacation. I organised it with Phil.”
Dumbfounded, she coughed out a humourless laugh. “Phil, now, is it?”
“He agreed that it’s best you take time off.”
She set her jaw.
Not tired, not compassionate. Now she was angry.
“Do I get any say in this? I mean, has anyone heard of dialing a mobile phone? I think you have my number.”
“I didn’t want to upset you when you had such a long drive to get through. You have enough on your mind.”
“An understatement,” she mumbled, threading her key into its lock.
He followed her inside, his tall masculine build looking out of place in her single bedroom unit. “For the time being, it’s best.”
Says Alexander Ramirez.
She tossed her keys on the hallstand and, her back to Alex, pressed her clasped hands to her waist.
She was ticked off that Alex had spoken with Phil without her consent, but it had gone beyond that. Her boss thought having her lay low for a while was a good idea. Phil wasn’t a pushover. He wouldn’t have agreed if he hadn’t been certain. Perhaps he thought the initial boost the publicity had given Phil’s might ultimately turn sour.
These days people wanted heroes more than ever. Given the perceived moral dilemma here—a man marrying one woman while getting another pregnant—potential customers might take a stand and look elsewhere for their property needs.
She owed her boss a great deal. And she hadn’t had a vacation in…was it two years? This minute she was exhausted, mentally, physically, totally spent.
Leaning against the wall, she heeled off her shoes.
Hell, why fight it? Maybe a few days off wasn’t such a bad idea.
Not wanting to give in too easily, she headed for the kitchen. “How long have you men decided I should take off?”
“Phil said to take as long as you need.”
Feeling suddenly chilled, she crossed and rubbed her arms. “He wants me back, right?”
“With a huge sale like you made yesterday?” She heard him grunt. “I don’t think that’s in dispute.”
“That sale had nothing to do with my ability.”
“Don’t underestimate yourself.” He followed her to the corner of the kitchen where she reached for the kettle. “I was seriously in the market and you negotiated like a true pro. You’d be an asset on anyone’s team. Including mine.”
She looked over her shoulder. A lazy smile was tugging on his mouth. This man couldn’t help being sexy if he tried.
She cocked an eyebrow. “I’m not in the market for another job.”
“Oh, in my case, our affiliation would be purely personal.”
When his arms ravelled around her, urging her to fully face him, half her fatigue melted away, to be replaced by far more inviting, provocative feeling. Still, she tried to look sternly at him. He got away with too much too easily.
She set her palms against his chest. “You’re doing a charm job on me again.”
“Is it working?” He nipped the sensitive shell of her ear and his warm breath stirred her flesh to goose bumps.
She sighed and her head rocked back. She was all out of fight.
“So where is this vacation taking place?”
“It’s a surprise?”
“All right. So what do I need?”
“A few changes of clothing. Some after-five gear.”
She quizzed eyes. “I thought we were going underground.” Hiding from the press.
His grin was crooked. “There’s all kinds of ways to dodge a bullet.”

Chapter Seven
Natalie packed a few things and they made it back to Alex’s new address without incident.
Clearly, though, the past few days had caught up with her. When Alex steered his Audi into the Quinton mansion—now the Ramirez Mansion—Natalie could barely keep her eyes open. He parked beneath the portico, as he’d done the day before, but when he opened the passenger-side door, in the moonlight, through sleepy eyes, she saw his brow descend.
“It’s a good thing I stepped in when I did,” he muttered, angling to scoop her off the seat and into the cradle of his capable arms. “If anyone needs a break, it’s you.”
She was leaden, almost too tired to protest, but she also had her pride. “You don’t need to carry me.”
Nevertheless, he did just that, bumping the car door shut with his hip then striding up the wide sandstone stairs that led to the grand front entrance. Without setting her down, he slotted the key, already in his hand, into the lock and carried her inside. But then he stopped and simply stood beneath that colossal French chandelier, as if waiting for some sign or sound while he silently dominated the deepening shadows.
Held so firmly against his chest, a strangely luminous sensation cascaded through her and Natalie took a moment to gather words to describe it.
Dreamlike, she thought. But, more so, fated. It was as if her whole life she’d waited for this man to carry her into this house when she would feel this way.
Close to peaceful.
Very nearly loved.
Did Alex feel the same?
Raising the arm that supported her legs, he flicked a switch. The chandelier lights flashed on, beaming crystal prisms around the vaulted vestibule. Alexander’s dark eyes glittered as he studied her and the line between his brows deepened more.
“You really are shot, aren’t you?”
Stifling a surprise yawn, she tried to shake herself awake. Now with the lights on, rather than peaceful she felt more like a sack of cement. Alex must think she felt as heavy as one, too.
She wriggled. “I’m fine, really. You can put me down now.”
But he was busy regarding their current location in connection to the rest of the house. His gaze travelled up the stairs that led to the bedrooms, and she remembered yesterday when he’d coaxed her into that bedroom and how he’d made love to her in a way which had been both wonderfully familiar and yet different to any other.
She remembered how his mouth had trailed over her quivering belly, how his bristled chin had grazed the tips of her breasts. Finally she remembered how his muscular body had both pinned her down and simultaneously propelled her up into the clouds.
She stole a look at the set of his firm jaw and intense gleam in his eyes as he evaluated the stairs and, despite her exhaustion, Natalie’s insides kicked in anticipation.
But then a rumble of decision sounded in his chest and he strode with her down a left-hand hall.
A moment later, they entered the exceptionally appointed theatre room. He flicked on the low wattage down lights then moved to lay her upon one of five connected plush chaise lounges, set in a semicircle aimed at a giant in-house screen.
Inwardly she sighed at his consideration but outwardly she challenged him. He was always so ready to take charge.
“I’m not an invalid,” she explained.
Leaning over her, he brushed his warm lips against hers and growled, “Don’t be stubborn. Tonight, carino, let me take care of you.”
Her mouth swung to one side. In truth, she was shot, worn through to the bone and she might be resting on a pile of downy feathers, this chaise was so decadently soft.
“No argument?” He waited then, on a slanted grin, nodded once. “Good.” He straightened and headed out. “I’ll get your things from the car, make a phone call I can’t put off and then…” He stopped at the doorway, rapped his fingers on the jamb and told her over the ledge of a broad shoulder, “Then we’ll go to bed.”
As he disappeared down the hall, Natalie nestled into the lounge, wishing this scenario was as simple as it might outwardly appear. She’d moved in with her handsome fiancé, a successful and respected man who treated her like a princess. But how long would the illusion last?
Another shuddering yawn consumed her. Her searching hand landed on the wool throwblanket splayed over the next chaise and she stuffed a portion of it under her head for a makeshift pillow. The rest she curled over her hip.
Some people lives were charmed. Others had the strength of will to overcome the toughest of trials. She’d faced life’s worst, the death of a child. Now she was facing another challenge…the wait to see whether Alex was the father of Bridget’s baby.
Were her instincts tonight right? Despite bringing her here to protect her from the media, if the paternity test proved positive, would Alex ultimately choose the traditional and honourable course? Would he choose to marry Bridget and be a full-time father to his baby?
Frowning, she burrowed more into her pillow.
No matter how strong their attraction for each other, no matter how much she craved his company, if he planned to stand by Bridget, she already understood and supported that decision more than he could ever know.
A heavy wave curled over her. She closed her eyes and began to drift.
And if Alex did choose Bridget, he would never need to know about her past. She would never need to have him look at her with an awful mixture of pity and futility.
The way she sometimes looked at herself.
When Natalie woke the next day her mind was clear and her body felt gloriously refreshed. Moving against the warm soft bedding, she took her sweet time opening her eyes.
The earliest mists of sunlight were slanting in through an opening in some curtains.
She rubbed her eyes and got her bearings.
Not her bedroom. Not Alexander’s, either. Rather she was reclined in the Quinton’s home theatre room. Last night he’d left saying he would return soon, but she must’ve dozed off.
Stirring more, she angled her head.
On the far chaise lounge, a quiet figure sat in the patchy light…a darkly attractive man, one elbow resting on the chaise arm, his curled knuckles supporting his strong shadowed jaw. He held something, was studying it intently. A small disc that he flipped over his fingers much like a gambler might flip a chip. He manoeuvred the—was it some kind of coin?—across and under his fingers, concentrating as if the action might reveal the secret that would unlock the mysteries of the world.
The flipping stopped.
As his head turned, a lock of blackest hair fell over his brow and Natalie’s heartbeat skipped. His smile was soft, unreservedly masculine and at the same time sinfully beautiful.
He swung his legs onto the floor. “You’re awake.”
His chest was bare while Levi’s hung like a dream on his lean hips. The button was left undone and as he strolled over she fought to keep her gaze from travelling down the arrow of crisp dark hair visible below his navel. Stopping before her, he rushed a hand through that fallen lock of hair and her stomach gave a pleasant twist.
He couldn’t know how sexy he was. How his every movement made her skin heat and heart beat a little faster.
“Did you sleep well?” he asked in a deep husky voice that resonated through to her bones.
She stretched. Smiled. “I feel as if I’ve slept a hundred years.”
“When I came back from my call, I didn’t have the heart to wake you.”
Despite her dilemma, she thought of that bedroom, of the blissful hours they’d spent beneath its sheets, and she only wanted to have him lift her in his arms again and kidnap her upstairs.
Wondering if her thoughts showed—in a way wishing they did—she inwardly sighed and straightened more. “Did you sleep down here, too?”
“A little.”
He looked refreshed enough. Smelled fresh, too. But she guessed he’d had a shower and hadn’t slept at all. That he’d spent the quiet hours of the night working the previous days’ events over in his mind.
The piece in his hand caught the light and she tilted her head, trying to gain a better look. “What’s that?”
“A family heirloom, believe it or not.”
He opened his palm and revealed a worn coin with some sort of emblem on its uneven surface. “It looks ancient.”
“It’s a Spanish doubloon, minted in the days of Isabella and Ferdinand.”
He made to drop it in her hand but she shrank back, hesitant to touch something so precious. It must be worth a fortune.
“I promise there’s no ghosts attached,” he told her. “Or none that I know of.”
She studied the humor in his eyes then laughed at herself. It was just a coin, a very old, queer-looking coin. It wasn’t as if she could lose it on him or anything. She put out her hand and the gold piece slid into the cup of her open palm.
It was warm from his touch and she tested its weight. “Heavy. And not at all round.”
“Doubloons were made with an ounce of gold and minted by hand. It’s been handed down from generation to generation. Passed on from Ramirez firstborn son to firstborn son.”
So that’s why he’d been examining it so intently. He’d been thinking that if Bridget’s baby was his, if the baby was a boy, by virtue of tradition this coin should be handed down to him.
“It’s presented to the eldest boy of each generation on his twenty-first birthday,” he went on. “My parents made a big deal of it when they gave the coin to me. It was the first and only time I saw tears in my father’s eyes.”
He was peeling off his layers, letting her in, wanting her to see what truly lay beneath the tycoon’s cool facade…a man who valued and respected his family, past and future.
Her fingers unfurled and she handed the coin back.
She wished she could give him that son. She wished she could see that same emotion Alex had seen in his father’s eyes the day his boy had turned twenty-one. Pride. Devotion. A sense of immortality. She could only imagine.
The moment stretched as he studied the coin.
“That phone call I made last night,” he finally said. “I contacted a numismatic auction firm. A coin dealer.”
“You want to sell this?”
His flashing eyes jumped to hers. “Never. It will stay in the Ramirez family. It certainly won’t leave my possession until my son is twenty-one.”
Alexander had had his share of romantic affairs, but it was clear how he saw his future. Married with children, particularly a boy. A son who would accept this tangible reminder of who and what he was above all else.
A Ramirez.
“Then why did you contact a dealer?” she asked.
“To hunt down another coin in case…” He exhaled and cleared his throat. “If Bridget Davidson’s baby is mine and a male, he ought to be acknowledged appropriately. But circumstances such as these…I don’t know that it’s happened before.” His gaze bore into the doubloon. “I’d always envisaged this coin going to the son of the woman I married.”
He pushed up tall and shrugged. “Unfortunately the dealer isn’t hopeful of securing another. This specific type of doubloon is the most sought after coin in the world.”

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