His Black Sheep Bride / The Billionaire Baby Bombshell: His Black Sheep Bride / The Billionaire Baby Bombshell

A note of belligerence had entered his tone. She knew Sawyer’s purpose was to dismiss Tom as inconsequential.

“It’s none of your business,” she snapped.

“I’ll take that as a no,” Sawyer said. “Poor bastard. I thought so.”

She wanted to wipe the satisfied expression off his face. “Tom is one of the good guys. He isn’t after control of my father’s company.”

“Don’t kid yourself, sweetheart. Tom isn’t a saint.” Sawyer’s eyes swept over her. “On the other hand, since he kept his hands off of you, maybe he is.”

Tamara felt a strange thrill. Had Sawyer just admitted to finding her hard to resist?

She pushed the question away. She reminded herself that Sawyer was simply trying to get his way. He’d say or do anything to sway her. He was ruthless. Just like her father.

With that thought, she scoffed, “What could you possibly have to pin on Tom?”

Sawyer looked her in the eye. “Maybe he was dating you because of your connection to Kincaid News.”

Her eyes widened. “You’re despicable!”

“He jumped at the opportunity to go to L.A., didn’t he?”

“Only because you arranged to make him an irresistible offer!”

Tamara reluctantly recalled that Tom had asked her about Kincaid News, even after she’d explained to him that help was unlikely to come for his band from that quarter. Still, she refused to see his interest in her as less than genuine.

“He was quick to sell you out with information about your current financial situation,” Sawyer pointed out ruthlessly. “When it became clear how I could help his career, he was eager as a puppy.”

“And you’re a puppy in need of obedience training!”

Sawyer’s lips quirked with amusement. “Volunteering for the job?”

“No, thank you.”

Sawyer’s expression became enigmatic. “At least I’ve been clear about what I want.”

“Yes,” she retorted disdainfully. “Kincaid News.”

“No, you and Kincaid News,” he contradicted, and then his look softened. “I’m offering you a final chance to salvage your dream. Isn’t becoming a jewelry designer what you’ve always wanted to do?”

She was like Eve being tempted by the apple, Tamara thought. How had he known she’d always wanted to be a designer? Even though she knew it was part of his persuasive ploy, it was refreshing to have someone at least pretend to take her dream seriously.

“I remember visiting Dunnyhead once,” he mused, naming her father’s estate in Scotland. “You were wearing a bead bracelet that you’d made yourself.”

Tamara was surprised Sawyer remembered. Her father had given her a jewelry-making kit during her stay at Dunnyhead. She’d just turned twelve, and it had been one of the few times after her parents’ divorce her father had seemed aware of her interests and hobbies.

She’d strung together translucent green beads from the kit into a fair semblance of a hippie bracelet. Her father, she recalled, hadn’t been particularly impressed. Still, she’d kept her beaded creation for years afterward.

During that stay at Dunnyhead, she recalled she’d played with her younger sisters, Julia and Arabella, who’d been five and two. But until this moment, she hadn’t remembered Sawyer’s visit.

“Who did you want to be when you grew up?” Sawyer probed, his tone inviting. “You must have had someone you aspired to be like.”

“I wanted to be an original,” she replied, her defenses lowering a notch.

Sawyer gave a low laugh. “Of course. I should have guessed. Tamara Kincaid has always been unique.”

Despite herself, a smile of shared amusement rose to her lips. “After the divorce,” she divulged, “my mother kept some pieces from Bulgari, Cartier and Harry Winston that my father had given her.”

“And I bet you loved putting them on,” he guessed.

“My father wouldn’t let me play in the family vault,” she deadpanned.

“I’d let you play with the Melton jewels,” he joked, but his eyes gleamed like polished stones. “Hell, you could wear them to your heart’s content.”

“Trying to bribe me?” she said lightly.

“Whatever works.”

Her eyes came to rest beyond Sawyer. She saw her workbench scattered with the implements of a jeweler’s trade.

All of it, however, was in danger of disappearing from her life. And suddenly, inexplicably, what Sawyer offered was so very tempting.

Would it be so bad?

“It wouldn’t be terrible,” he said, as if reading her mind. “A short-term marriage of convenience gets us what we both want, and then we go our separate ways.”

“As opposed to my father’s proposal of a real but bloodless and indefinite dynastic marriage?”

Sawyer inclined his head.

“You’re proposing that we double-cross my father?”

“I wouldn’t put it that way,” Sawyer replied, “but one rascal deserves another, don’t you think?”

The image that his words conjured brought an involuntary smile to her lips. Would it matter to her father what type of marriage she and Sawyer contracted if the bottom line was that he got what he wanted—seeing Kincaid News into capable hands?

And yet. “We’ll never convince my father that we have a real marriage.”

Sawyer arched a brow. “We’ve just proven we’ll have no problem convincing people the passion is real.”

She felt a rippling warmth suffuse her.

When had she turned so hot and bothered where Sawyer was concerned? Perhaps when she’d discovered their kisses had her seeing a kaleidoscope of colors.

Still, she hedged. “You said this would be a marriage of convenience.”

He gave her a bland look. “Are you asking whether I’d expect you to share my bed?”

She kept her expression unchanged, but at her sides, her fingers curled into her palms. “I just want us to be clear.”