No Ring Required: Millionaire's Calculated Baby Bid

Mary sighed. She didn’t want to argue the point anymore, and poor, miserable Harold had all but tried to crawl up inside the wall sconce and disappear. She would figure out her situation on her own. “All right, Harold. Can you show me upstairs?”

The man released a weary breath and started up the stairs. “There are some beautiful rooms to choose from and incredible views of the water.”

Before she followed him, Ethan put his hand on her shoulder. “Make sure you get that shower. You’re still walking like a robot.” Then he leaned in, whispered in her ear, “And if you need any help…”

Yes, she’d have to find another arrangement as soon as possible. Just the warmth of Ethan’s hand made her want to curl into him, nuzzle his neck and remove his shirt, but she detached herself anyway, and followed the agent up the stairs. “Hey, Harold, how old is this house did you say?”

“It was built in 1891, but everything’s been updated for your convenience.”

“Like the plumbing?”

“Of course.”

“And locks on the doors?”

“Every one of them, miss.”

She heard Ethan chuckle below, and the sound shot to every nerve, every muscle, every spot that ached for his touch.

Nine (#ulink_3666be1c-855c-5e00-8db3-7a9b99b554ba)

Good thing he’d checked the house’s extensive property, or he might not have found her.

The historic barn was only about sixty feet from the main house and featured three horse stalls, food storage areas, tack room, carriage storage room, hay room and small living quarters upstairs. That last bit of information had tipped Ethan off when Mary hadn’t come downstairs after a shower and change.

Ethan scowled at her. “You’re the most stubborn person I have ever met.”

Wearing a white terry cloth robe that showed absolutely nothing except for her feet and about an inch of neck, Mary stood at the barn door, blocking his entrance. “Thank you.”

“That agent told you about this place, didn’t he?”

“His name is Harold.”

“Yeah, well, Harold clearly isn’t looking for a good word from me to his boss.”

“Don’t take it out on Harold,” Mary said, trying to force her hair into some type of halo style on top of her head with a couple of pins. She looked like a damn angel and Ethan had an intense urge to be saved.

“Are you going to show me around?” Ethan asked wryly.

Defiance glimmered in her pale-blue eyes, but she took a step back and allowed him to pass. “Do you promise to be good?”

“Are you kidding? Don’t you know me at all?”

She laughed, a soft, throaty sound that made him think of the nights they’d shared, the sound that would erupt from her throat every time she climaxed. Blood thrummed in his temples as he followed her past the neat tack room and unused stalls, up the short set of stairs to the loft. There he took one look around and sniffed derisively. “This place is microscopic and—”

“And perfect for one person,” Mary finished for him.

The walk upstairs had caused the ties on her robe to loosen, and the lapels were gaping slightly—just enough for him to see a curve of one pale breast. His mouth watered, and he tore his gaze away and glared at the bed. Warm light infused the room, kissing the pale-blue coverlet. It was a soft space, and he felt way too hard to belong there.

“I think it’s the best of both worlds,” Mary said, mis-taking his tense jaw and piercing gaze for annoyance instead of desire. “Seeing how we feel about each other.”

How they felt about each other. The idea made Ethan want to laugh. One minute he wanted to shake her, and the next he wanted to kiss her. What he did know was that he didn’t want to hate her—not anymore—didn’t want to feel pissed off at her. “I don’t like this.”

She sighed. “We’re close enough to work and far enough not to…”

“Not to what?” he asked, wondering how long it would take him to remove that robe. Two seconds? Five? Or maybe he’d want to do it slowly, just a shoulder first. Or maybe he’s start at her feet, work his way up to her calves, thighs…“Fall into bed again?”

Pink suddenly stained her cheeks, and she moistened her bottom lip with her tongue. “Something like that.”

“It seems like a whole lot of trouble for nothing.”

Her chin lifted. “I seem to remember you comparing me to a python. Aren’t you glad that the python isn’t living upstairs?”

He didn’t answer. He walked over to the window and stared out. “There’s no view of the water from here.”

She sniffed. “I think I’ll live.”

“You’ll be up here day and night…alone.”

“Why do you care, Curtis?”

“I don’t,” he said through gritted teeth. He didn’t want to.

“Business won’t suffer,” she assured him. “I can be up at the house in under five minutes.”

If he didn’t get the hell out of here right now, he was going to find out the answer to that robe question of his, and then Mary Kelley would have the upper hand on him and he couldn’t have that. He turned away from the window and stalked across the tiny space. “Thirty will be fine.”

She studied him, her brows slightly knitted. “What’s the plan for the rest of the day?”

“We have a few hours of good light left. Maybe…scouting a location for the party?”

She looked surprised. “I would’ve thought you’d want it at the house.”

“I’m not sure what I want,” he said tightly. “I’d like some options.”

Her expression now impenetrable, she nodded. “All right. Well, I’m finally going to take that shower I’ve been looking forward to since this morning, and I’ll meet you out front in thirty minutes.”

The thought of Mary naked under a waterfall of hot water had Ethan sucking in oxygen, but not enough: his lungs constricted with pain. She was going to take off that robe, not him. She was going to touch her skin, not him. Women could be masters at torture, but this woman had it down to a science. His gaze shot to the small bathroom to his right. So white and clean and sweet.

His entire body charged with electricity, Ethan turned away and headed back down the stairs.

“We could always walk into town,” Mary suggested as she sat in the back of a small black buggy, outside the gates of their rental house.

Glaring at the docile horse, Ethan slowly shook his head. “Nope.”

The carriage driver looked straight ahead, smart enough not to get involved, but Mary wasn’t afraid to incur the wrath of Ethan Curtis. The late-afternoon sun was starting to mellow into a stunning orangish pink and if they didn’t get a move on they’d be scouting locations for the party in the dark.

“Are you going to climb up here or not?” Mary asked as she watched Ethan sidle up to the chestnut mare.