by Неизвестный
With burning cheeks she stood, eased out the kink in her back and took a deep breath. Tentatively, she
placed a hand on her still-flat stomach.
A baby. Hers.
Wonder and shock tripped her breath, adding a shaky edge to the inhale. She tried to swallow but tears
welled in her eyes. Quickly, she dashed them away. She hadn’t gone looking for a one-night stand, yet
the stranger had commanded her eyes the instant he’d settled on the barstool next to hers at Blu Horizon,
an exclusive cocktail lounge at Sydney’s Shangri-La Hotel. He’d radiated confidence and wealth as if
powered by some inner sun, from every thread of his sharply tailored black suit to the closely cropped,
almost military haircut. Yet there was something more, something a little vulnerable beneath that
chiselled face, all angles and shadow.
It was only after she’d snuck back to her girlfriend’s place at 2:00 a.m. that she’d discovered the real
identity of the man who’d rocked her world. Mr. One-Click, heir apparent to the great Victor Prescott’s
vast technology empire. Cal Prescott’s computer software had recently become number one in national
sales. Hell, she’d just upgraded her office computer with the latest version.
She snorted at the irony. Cal Prescott was one of the richest men under thirty-five, a man who regularly
dated supermodels and socialites. He was a man who avoided emotional entanglements, who revelled in
his bachelor lifestyle. If working long hours and staying single was an Olympic event, he’d have a
cupboard full of gold medals.
It was a good thing you left. A smart choice. The right choice. Still, a tiny doubt niggled. How could she
single-handedly bring a baby into her life, a debt-ridden life to which she could add the grim possibility
of being homeless, too?
She’d wavered between absolute joy and utter despair a million times this past week. And every time
she always returned to one realization: fate. Karma. Destiny. Whatever it was called, the universe was
telling her that despite everything, this baby was meant to be.
Ava Rose, life never throws anything your way you’re not capable of handling. Her mother’s favourite
phrase teased her mouth into a too-brief smile before the familiar throb of loss hit. She let it sit there for
a second before shoving it aside. Death and tragedy hadn’t defeated her before. A new life wouldn’t now.
She dropped her hands to the table and gathered up the papers. The pity party’s over. It was time to take
action and get her life back on track. Somehow.
“Doing your paperwork, I see.”
Ava whirled, her brain tingling at the sound of that oh-so-delicious voice. A millisecond later, her
stomach fell to the floor.
Cal Prescott stood in the doorway, broad and immaculately dressed in a dark grey suit, a chilly gleam in
his eyes. Those eyes, once so intensely passionate, now so cold and distant that she wondered if she’d
just imagined that night in Sydney two months ago. Those same eyes had creased with serious
concentration as they’d shared hot, wet kisses in the privacy of his Shangri-La Hotel penthouse suite.
Flared with hunger as he’d slipped her dress from her shoulders—
She slammed the door on those memories, barely managing a croak. “Cal.”
“Ava.” Cal’s voice, a slow-burning rasp that had turned her on so quickly, so completely, was the same,
but little else was. His face was a study in frozen control, eyes reflecting only an impersonal, razor-sharp
study as he remained still, somehow dwarfing her kitchen even from the relative safety of the doorway.
She was alone with Cal Prescott. Again.
The air thickened, heavy with expectation. A warm throb started up between her legs as she swallowed a
single desperate groan.
“What…” She croaked then cleared her throat. “What are you doing here?”
His lip curled but he said nothing, a broad, tense statue intent on letting the moment swirl and grow. She
steeled herself as his eyes flickered over her in thorough scrutiny, gathering up her dignity with a
smoothing of her wayward hair. Yet his eyes followed those fluttery movements until she firmly
jammed her hands in her back pockets.
He snorted, a sound so full of contempt that Ava took a cautious step backwards.
“Are you pregnant with my child?”
Ava grabbed the edge of the kitchen counter, reeling from the blow. How could he know? She’d barely
had time to get used to it herself. She’d driven into Parkes for an over-the-counter test, then followed up
at a free clinic. She’d told no one, not even Aunt Jillian.
She opened her mouth but nothing came out. Like an idiot she just stood there, blinking in shock.
“Who…how..?” She finally managed.
“Do not play the innocent, Ava.” His eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening imperceptibly. “Now answer
me.”
The subtle threat behind his silky words, the fury reflected in every tightened muscle, was all too clear.
Ava felt her cheeks flush and just like that, she snapped.
“Do you think I planned this? I didn’t even know who you were until after I—” she paused.
“Ran away?” He finished, his eyes way too perceptive.
She crossed her arms, refusing to let him see he’d struck a nerve. Yet her mind raced a million miles an
hour until something finally clicked. “That’s why you’re here. You think I want money from you.” Bile
rose in her throat, acrid and burning. “Get out of my kitchen,” she ground out.
“I’m not going anywhere. Is the baby mine?”
For one heartbeat, she seriously considered lying, but just as quickly rejected it. Apart from the fact she
was a terrible liar, she wouldn’t. Not about something this important. So with fear of the unknown
fluttering in her belly, she slowly nodded. “Yes, Cal. It’s yours.”
He paused. “A paternity test will prove it.”
“Yes,” she said firmly. “It will.”
His cold mask cracked, morphing into an expression so raw that she had to take a step back from the
intensity.
He strode to her, the distance between them evaporating into an excruciating invasion of her comfort
zone. He was Cal Prescott, and he was there, right there and amazingly, the urge to touch him, to smell
him, thundered through her senses. She wanted to melt right into his very bones until she couldn’t tell
where she finished and he started.
Anger poured off him, slamming into her, breaking through her thoughts. Then with a soft curse he
abruptly whirled, shoving a hand through his hair, leaving short, tufted peaks in its wake. Hair that
emphasised his ruthlessly angular face and framed those rich brown eyes to perfection. It was a face so
achingly distant, one that screamed control and power in every muscle, every line.
“What do you want?” He demanded now, pinning her with sharp intensity.
Instinctively she placed a hand over her belly, which only succeeded in drawing his attention. Abruptly
she shoved her hands back in her jean pockets. “From you? Nothing.”
His gaze narrowed. “Don’t lie to me. Not now.”
“I’m not lying! I didn’t even know I was pregnant until a week ago.”
“So that’s the way you’re going to play it.” When he crossed his arms, utterly convinced of her guilt, her
frustration ratcheted up.
“I don’t care what you think,” she hissed back. “It’s none of your busi
ness!”
He stilled, staring at her, while all around them there was silence, as if the earth itself was awaiting his
comeback with bated breath.
Then he smiled. The sheer triumph in that one simple action sent a chilling wave over her skin. It was
the smile of a man used to getting his own way, a man who made thousands of million-dollar deals and
steamrolled over his detractors. It was a smile that told her he’d won.
Won what?
“You being pregnant with my child is none of my business?” he said now, arching one derisive brow up.
“On the contrary. I’ve given this a lot of thought. That child needs a father. We’ll get married.”
Deep below the surface, the bombshell exploded, sending shock waves through Ava’s insides. Oblivious
to the aftermath, Cal flipped open a sleek black mobile phone and dialled. “I’ve already applied for a
wedding licence and my solicitor will finalise the prenup. I dislike large engagement parties so we’ll
skip that, of course. But I have booked dinner at Tetsuya’s with my parents tomorrow night, so—”
Ava finally found her voice. “What are you doing?”
“Hmm?”
“Are you crazy?”
“What?” When he put his hand over the mouthpiece and glared at her like she was some sort of
annoying irritation, Ava saw red.
“You can’t force me to marry you!” She jammed her hands on her hips and shouted the last word, anger
surging up to scorch her throat.
Slowly, Cal hung up, forcing restraint into every muscle of his body. Her hands fisted on her hips, hips
that curved into the worn denim and came this close to being indecent. His eyes travelled upwards, past
the ratty shirt that skimmed her waist, the rolled-up sleeves over tanned forearms, to the low neckline
that revealed a smooth expanse of throat.
He finally fixed on her face, a face he’d seen in his dreams, deep in the throes of passion. Her silken
black hair was half up, half down, the remnants of a ponytail feathering her jaw. A stubborn jaw that
was now rigid with fury.
It was the offer of a lifetime, marrying into the Prescott wealth. He may have preempted her blackmail
attempt but she’d still be well compensated. What the hell was she ticked off about? Thrown, he glanced
at her mouth.
It did him in, seeing that lush mouth again. Gentle creases around her lips denoted a lifetime in the sun,
but all he could think about was the softness of that flesh when it had teased and tempted him. How
she’d placed hot, searing kisses across his chest, trailed her tongue over his belly before—
With a silent curse, he scowled, which only seemed to anger her.
“I am not marrying you.” She enunciated the words as if he was missing a few brain cells.
He scowled. “Why not?”
Her eyes rounded in incredulity. “Because for one, you don’t tell someone you’re marrying them, you
ask them. Second, we don’t even know each other. And third, I don’t want to marry you.”
“I know you need money to save this place. I’m making you an offer.” When she remained silent, he
turned the screw a little more. “You get your money and I get a wife.”
Her breath sucked in. “I don’t need your money.”
“Because you’ve got so many other offers, right? Your neighbor…Sawyer?” He lifted his eyebrows
mockingly. “He’s mortgaged to the hilt.” As he watched her face drain of color he said flatly, “What,
you didn’t know?”
She said nothing, just stared at him with those bright blue eyes full of recrimination.
“The way I see it, you don’t have a choice,” he said now. “I’ll give you until tomorrow to think it
through, but we both know your answer.”
Ava was speechless, floored by the depth of his arrogance. “If you care so much, then why not just sue
for custody?” she finally whispered. “Why marriage?”
“Because I do not ignore my responsibilities.” His voice tightened in the spacious kitchen. “Did you
intend to tell me about this baby at all?”
She quickly drew a hand over her stomach as the blood rushed from her face. She couldn’t think,
couldn’t even breathe with his ever-watchful eyes, the lingering scent of his warm skin, the aftermath of
his luscious voice in the air all around her. “I…didn’t think you’d want to know. You’re Cal Prescott and
—”
“You don’t know what I want.” Fury flickered, working his jaw. “You walked into my life, spent the
night, then walked right out again.”
“So this is your way of getting back at me?”
“This is not about you. It’s about a child.” His eyes dropped to her belly, then up again, his expression
unreadable. “My child.”
He effectively ended their conversation with a flick of his hand, a white business card between his two
fingers. When she didn’t take it he slammed it down on the counter. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Almost as if he couldn’t stand to remain in her presence a second longer, he turned and stalked out the
door.
Two
A va was still standing in the kitchen, Cal’s card clutched in her cold fingers, when her Aunt Jillian
walked in with a handful of grocery bags, a warm smile on her weathered face. “Ava, darling, I thought
we could have chicken for—”
“Cal Prescott was just here.”
Jillian put the bags on the table. “The man you met in Sydney?”
“The same.”
Jillian opened the fridge and shoved a block of cheese inside. “Really? Is he interested in staying at
Jindalee?”
Ava swallowed. Even though she’d given Jillian the sanitised version, her aunt was a perceptive woman.
“Not exactly. Apparently he thinks I’m trying to blackmail him—and with this place teetering on the
verge, I can’t say I blame him.”
Jillian whirled, her lined face a mask of shock. “Oh, my. That’s not good.”
Ava sank into a kitchen chair and put her face in her hands. “I don’t believe this. And now he…” She
sighed. “Jillian, I have to tell you something. Sit down.”
Jillian kept right on putting away the groceries. “If it’s about you being pregnant, I already guessed.”
Lord, did the whole world know? Ava’s jaw sagged until she snapped it shut with a click. “How?
When?”
“You can’t hide a sudden craving for cheese-and-pickle sandwiches. Plus,” she gently reached out and
smoothed Ava’s hair, “your hair went curly. Your grandma and I were exactly the same. It’s a Reilly
thing.” Jillian quickly enveloped her in a hug. “Darling, are you okay with this?”
“Yes.” With a relieved sigh, Ava let herself sink into the embrace even as her head spun with the last
hour’s events. “You’re not upset I’m not married?”
“It’s not the Middle Ages, darling. And I’m not your father,” she added pointedly.
Ava just squeezed Jillian harder. “Cal thinks I did it on purpose,” she muffled against the woman’s soft
shoulder. When Jillian pulled back, Ava avoided her aunt’s eyes, unable to face the questions there.
“And now he’s demanding we get married.”
Jillian went back to unpacking. “That’s very chivalrous of him, especially in this day and age.”
“No, it’s not! I can’t even begin to list the things wrong with this—we’re complete strangers, we live
separate lives, have careers, not to mention what the town wou
ld say—”
“Oh, my giddy aunt!” Jillian slammed a can of tomatoes down on the counter. “Your business is about
to go under, you’re pregnant by a rich, attractive, single man—a man who wants to do the right thing
and marry you—and you’re worried about what a bunch of old busybodies would say?”
Ava stared at her, stunned. Her Aunt Jillian was the most easygoing person she’d ever known. She’d
never raised her voice in anger, never blown her top.
“You’re saying I should marry him?” Ava said slowly.
“I’m saying a child has a right to know his father. From what I’ve read, Cal Prescott never knew his.”
“His mother remarried. He has a father.”
“But his birth father ran out. ‘To know the man, at first know the child.’”
“What?”
“Cal Prescott is a man with obvious trust issues, dear, which can make people do extreme things,” Jillian
explained as she started unpacking the apples. “I do wish you’d pay attention a bit better.” Her face
suddenly softened. “Or are those hormones kicking in already?”
Ava sighed. “It is not hormones. And don’t change the subject.” She leaned back in her chair, her mind
tossing and turning. “I just don’t know what to do.”
Jillian rolled her eyes. “You both have something each other wants. So you make a deal.”
“Have you not been listening about the whole blackmail thing? The only thing he wants is the baby.”
She laid a protective hand over her belly. “And he’s not getting that.”
“Darling, do you think he’d actually try to take away your child?” Jillian asked with a shake of her head.
“Sounds to me the man just wants to be a father. And he can save Jindalee into the bargain. Unless…”
she hesitated. “You don’t want Jindalee.”
Ava flushed. Jillian knew her better than anyone, even her own parents. Jindalee land had been in her
family for over a hundred years. The sheep station had been her father’s dream, a culmination of hard
work and town status. Ava had known from a very early age she was a distant fourth in his affections,
streets behind the land, her mother, then her younger sister, Grace. The uncompromising man had often