No Ring Required: Millionaire's Calculated Baby Bid

Mary’s face was impassive, except for the frown lines between her brows. “What have you noticed?”

His head was swimming, his thoughts as jumpy as his skin. But why, dammit? Why was he reacting this way? The truth was he’d done just fine after his mom ran off. Sure he got into trouble with the law, but he’d gotten a hold of himself, and look at where he was today—no thanks to a mother. No, he and his kid would do just fine.

Mary felt the conflict start deep in her gut. She didn’t want to give a damn about Ethan or his past or his feelings on his family, but the stark pain etched on his face was very telling and intriguing. She would never have imagined seeing the hint of a suffering boy behind the overconfident glare of the man. “Ethan,” she began softly. “I’m not going to push you on this, but—”

Turning away from her, he lifted his chin and stared into the nursery. He was not about to discuss his past with her. “What do you think of the room?”

“It’s great,” she said in a soft voice. “Perfect. Any kid’s dream.”

“I’d like to get started on it right away.”

“Sure.”

He looked down at her once again, his eyes so dark blue and impassioned she felt her breath catch. “Mary?”

“Yes?”

“Would you mind…” He broke off, shook his head.

“What?”

“Can I touch you?”

Her self-control, always to be counted on, melted like the last bits of snow on a warm spring day. “We agreed—”

“No.” He moved closer, until they were nearly touching. “Your stomach.”

“Oh.”

He cursed darkly. “I know it’s ridiculous. Way too early. All of that. But, I…”

Her gaze dropped to her belly. “It is early.”

“I know, but I just…” His mouth was close to her ear, that sensual, cynical mouth.

“All right,” she heard herself utter foolishly.

Mary closed her eyes, afraid of what she might say or do when his hand gently cupped her stomach. Heat surged through the light cotton fabric of her shirt, and she was flooded with emotions. There was no child here, yet there was an ache so intense she thought she’d collapse if he didn’t move his hand up toward her breasts or down between her thighs. Frustrated weakness overtook her and she wobbled against him.

“Are you all right?” he asked, holding her steady.

She had never run from anything in her life, but at that moment she had to get out of his house, away from that room, far from him. “I have to get back to the office.”

“I’ll drive you back.”

She ignored the concern in his voice and pushed away from him. “I followed you over here, remember?”

“Maybe you should sit down for a minute. You seem—”

“The first party is Friday, correct?” she said, running her fingers through her hair, as if that would help quiet her shaking body. “If you can send me the guest list.”

“Of course.” He attempted to touch her again, but she moved away.

“Thank you for lunch, Ethan.” Brushing past him, she walked quickly down the hallway, down the stairs and out the front door, only remembering to breathe once she was safely inside her car.

Three (#ulink_c54e8d38-98de-58d9-927e-84565842a26f)

“What’s Olivia making?” Mary asked when she returned to the office later that day. Even in her sorry mental state, the scent she’d encountered when entering the lobby of their office building five minutes ago had made her taste buds come alive. Mouthwatering aromas wafting through their building weren’t an unusual occurrence during the week, they just made her want to run up the four flights of stairs to get to the source instead of taking the very slow elevator.

Poised at the front desk, with a full plate of beautifully arranged golden spheres, Tess tried to smile. Unfortunately, her mouth was full and she could only manage a chipmunk-like grin. “Scones,” she said on a sigh, pointing at the plate. “Cranberry. Have one.”

“I’ve actually just come back from lunch, so I’m pretty stuffed.”

“Seriously? Too full for one of these?”

Tess rolled her eyes, then grabbed one. “Devil.”

“Don’t blame the addict, kid,” Tess replied, reaching for another. “Blame her supplier.”

“Where is Olivia?”

“Trying out another scone recipe. Chocolate this time.”

“Great.”

“She has a high tea to plan. That angry groom wants something beautiful and classic to celebrate the loss of his fiancée.”

“How strange, yet lovely.”

“He has over sixty guests.”

“Lovely for us, too, then.”

Tess laughed. “So, where were you?”

Obviously Olivia hadn’t told her about Ethan.

“That new client Olivia was telling me about?”

Or not. Mary glanced through the mail on the desk. “Yes. Ethan Curtis. CEO of Harrington Corp. and old-money wannabe.”

“Harrington Corp.? Isn’t that your family’s insurance company.”

Mary nodded. “Was. Before Ethan Curtis took it over.”

“Interesting that he’d hire you,” Tess said nonchalantly, taking another scone, but only fiddling with it on her plate.

“I’ve got the blue-blood background he’s looking for,” Mary explained. “In many respects.