Bought by a Millionaire

He could definitely picture Shannon Moriarty as the mother of his child. Or children. The problem was, with Shannon, he thought he might just want to conceive them the old-fashioned way.

And that wasn’t good. He didn’t have room in his life for a woman right now. Another business proposition, yes, which is exactly what this mommy hunt was until it produced an actual living, breathing baby made up of half his DNA. Then he intended to take some time off. To cut back his hours indefinitely and be the father he’d always wanted but never had.

But a woman? A wife? No, thank you.

And Shannon had already admitted she was in this entirely for the money, as so many other women of his acquaintance. They all wanted to be Mrs. Most Eligible Bachelor, with access to his multimillion-dollar portfolio.

Shannon didn’t want to be Mrs. Most Eligible Bachelor, but she was willing to have the most eligible bachelor’s baby in order to care for her ailing mother.

Her motives were slightly more noble than most, but Burke thought he’d be smart to keep his mind on business…and his eyes away from the slight dip of Shannon’s V-neck top.

Pushing back his chair, Burke rose to his feet. Shannon followed, returning her purse to her shoulder.

Against his better judgment, he smiled and opened his mouth to ask something of Shannon that he hadn’t of any of the other surrogate applicants.

“Will you have dinner with me tonight?”

He’d met with the other two women after lunch, but it had been nothing more than a technicality. The appointments had already been scheduled, so he’d gone through with them, but his mind was made up. Shannon was the one—the future mother of his child.

Except that here he stood, pacing the length of his sleek black limousine outside Shannon’s apartment building. She’d said not to bother coming up, that she would be down at seven. But it was 6:59 p.m., and Burke was about ready to storm upstairs after her.

So much for staying professional. He’d never once been nervous about a business venture. Never paced the hallway before walking into a room for a hostile takeover. He was known as a calm, emotionless negotiator. Nothing shook him.

He froze in midstep, a frown marring his brow. Why, then, was he so anxious now? And why was he letting it show?

Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his navy dress slacks, Burke leaned against the side of the car and adopted a careless pose. Maybe because, now that he’d chosen a mother for his child, this baby business was becoming all too real.

The fact that he found himself attracted to Shannon didn’t help, either.

She appeared in the double glass doorway just then, her nose buried in that same large, baggy purse she seemed to carry everywhere. Tonight it was thrown over the shoulder of an ivory blouse with wide, unassuming ruffles at the neck and wrists. The blouse was tucked into a narrow-waisted brown skirt that flared out at midcalf. Her auburn ringlets were pulled back and held in place by a gold clip at her nape.

When she lifted her head and saw him, she smiled. Not a wide, inviting smile, but a smile all the same, and the sight sent a lightning bolt of awareness skittering through Burke’s bloodstream.

He offered a small grin of his own and pushed himself away from the side of the limo, holding the door open for her.

“Thank you,” she said breathlessly, stepping inside and scooting across the plush leather seat.

He slid in beside her and pulled the door shut. Almost immediately the car drifted into motion.

“You’re welcome. How are you feeling this evening?”

She turned to look at him awkwardly. “Fine. And you?”

He nodded. “No second thoughts?” he asked, getting right to the point.

His boldness caught Shannon off guard. Though she didn’t know why it should. It took a straightforward man to decide he wanted a child—with or without a wife—and then advertise for a surrogate mother for that child. She’d understood as much from the team of doctors and lawyers he’d set up to interview her and look into her background, and from some of the pointed questions he’d asked her earlier this afternoon.

It took her a moment to register exactly what he was asking, but when she did, she shook her head. She hadn’t changed her mind about being willing to carry this man’s child.

She’d done a bit of research into his background, as well, before applying for the “job.” Burke Ellison Bishop was a decent man. From what she could tell, he hadn’t had an ideal childhood, which was possibly the reason he wanted a baby of his own. And though she found it odd that he wouldn’t want to marry first and have a child with his legal wife, she felt confident he would be a good father. He gave large amounts of money to children’s charities, and she’d seen news coverage of him at similar events where he played and joked with the kids, and obviously enjoyed himself while doing it.

Still, she had to admit she was overcome by nerves at the thought that he was seriously considering her for the job. Which she assumed was the case, since he’d invited her to dinner. If she hadn’t passed muster in his office, he never would have wanted to see her again. Would he?

Those thoughts only made the butterflies in her stomach flap their wings even faster, so she turned her head away and stared out the window at the passing scenery. She’d never been in a limousine before, but the soft, deep seat cushions and perfectly regulated interior temperature made her think it was something she could definitely get used to.

Within minutes, they pulled up to the restaurant, a swanky place called Le Cirque, with tiny, star-like lights in the windows, valet parking, and a row of fancy cars lined up out front. Shannon had heard of it, of course, but never dreamed of eating here, considering the upscale clientele and soaring menu prices.

Burke, it seemed, had no such qualms.

The driver came around to her door, opened it, and offered his hand to help her out. She stood staring at the other patrons who were entering the restaurant until she felt a warm hand at the base of her spine.

Lifting her head, she saw Burke standing at her side and forced a smile. “I think I’m underdressed.”

Men in tailored suits and women in satin and sequins passed before them. Shannon suddenly felt horribly out of place.

“Not at all,” Burke said as he guided her past the waiting doorman. “Besides, I’ve reserved a private table so we won’t be disturbed.”

Without calling attention to Burke’s presence, an effusively pleasant maitre d’ with a suspicious French accent guided them around the outskirts of the crowded dining room and into a shadowed alcove with only one small round table and two chairs. Shannon still felt out of place, but less so in this darker corner where no one could see them.

She sat with her back to the wall, with a row of fake ferns and flowers—or maybe real ones, considering the rest of their luxuriant surroundings—running behind her head.

The oversize menus, bearing black leather jackets and tassels, offered more choices than a multicultural food festival. Shannon could barely pronounce even half of the entrées listed.

When Burke offered to order for her, she nodded, trusting that no snails or other disgusting cuisine would end up on her dinner plate.

After the waiter had taken their orders to the kitchen, he poured them each a glass of deep red claret and left them alone.

“Did you have more questions for me?” Shannon asked, taking a small sip of the rich, flavorful wine. After all, what other reason would he have for bringing her here?

With a shake of his head, he said, “I think I know everything I need to about your general health and well-being.”

“Then why did you ask me to dinner?”

The hint of a smile twisted his lips as he ran one long, tan finger slowly up and down the stem of his wine glass. “Because I wanted to. Why, aren’t you enjoying yourself?”

“It’s not that,” she responded quickly, though it was partially true. It was hard for her to enjoy herself when she was so nervous about doing or saying the wrong thing. “I’m just not sure why you felt the need to bring me here if you didn’t intend to continue our interview.”

“Forget about the interview,” he told her. “For tonight, I want you to relax. I thought we could talk, get to know each other a little better.”

She chuckled at that, dropping her gaze to the cloth-covered tabletop. “If you’ve read the reports from your legion of doctors and lawyers, I don’t think there’s much more I can tell you about myself. They investigated me back to the womb.”

“My people are very thorough,” he agreed without a hint of chagrin. “But that doesn’t mean they—or I—really know you. I know your blood type, your birth date and your grades from kindergarten to the present. Tonight, I’d like to hear about some of the things you weren’t asked on the surrogacy forms.”

“Such as?”

“Your favorite color, your favorite ice cream, your first broken heart.”

“All right,” she agreed softly, an idea creeping into her head. She was feeling more herself now, more secure in the situation since he’d made it clear this wasn’t part of her job interview. “But if I answer your questions, I think it’s only fair that you answer some of mine in return.”