Billion dollar baby bargain.txt

by Неизвестный

accused her of being too wild, too selfish, too carefree. And she’d proved it in spades at twenty when

  she’d single-handedly destroyed everything.

  Not selfish anymore. She closed her eyes, picturing his silvery head held proud, a dark frown set in a

  face lined with age and the elements. She’d put her own share of worry lines on that face.

  Her eyes shot open when Jillian placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You don’t have to prove

  anything anymore, Ava,” the older woman said softly. “He’s gone. He loved this land, but—”

  “So do I.” It was the simple truth. She loved the gently sloping hills, the craggy gum trees that housed

  the native corellas and lorikeets. The kangaroos that grazed in the morning mist and the stunning sunsets

  that spread across the big navy sky. It made her heart expand with joy every day at the sheer beauty of

  the land. Her land.

  “Ava,” Jillian said now, her eyes sympathetic. “It doesn’t have to be so hard. No one will think less of

  you if you sell.”

  “But I would.” Ava stood, walked over to the counter and began washing the apples. She’d not sunk

  everything into this property just to see it fail. And if Cal was on the level, then she didn’t even have her

  neighbour’s buyout offer as backup.

  Hope bloomed, a tiny thread of light bobbing along a sea of uncertainty. She let it sit there for a couple

  of seconds until caution doused it. Before she charged into any decision, she had to pin down the details.

  Cal was offering her a chance to save Jindalee. She might be guilty of many things, but looking a gift

  horse in the mouth was not one of them. It’d be a cakewalk compared to what she’d already been

  through.

  A cakewalk.

  On Saturday at 10:00 a.m., after her two paying customers had checked out, Ava knew she couldn’t stall

  any longer. She’d called and offered to drive the twenty minutes to Parkes, but Cal had preempted her.

  Now as she watched from her porch, a brand-new red Calais slowly made its way down the dirt road. It

  finally stopped in the small designated parking area, directly below the huge gum tree.

  Ava took a breath, then another, dragging in the comforting kitchen smells to give her strength—vanilla,

  coffee and fresh-baked apple pie, aromas that said “welcome, come on in!”—or so she’d read in a

  decorating magazine.

  When Cal finally unfolded himself from the car, she did a double take. She’d expected expensive casual:

  a polo shirt, sharply pressed pants, imported Italian shoes. But he surprised her in a pair of faded Levi’s,

  work boots, a brown leather jacket and white cotton T-shirt, the latter hugging like cling wrap, outlining

  every muscular dip and curve of his chest. Natural command and raw sexuality oozed from his every

  bone and Ava couldn’t help but stare.

  He stalked purposefully up her steps with a long-legged stride that indicated he’d no place else to be, his

  dark eyes shuttered and focused squarely on her. She threaded her fingers once then released them and

  suddenly the air was filled with his warm, spicy scent.

  “Ava,” he said, making her name sound sexier than the promise of a hot, wet kiss. Lord, he undid her.

  Did he remember how in the dark of night, she’d confessed her name on his lips made her want to melt

  in a puddle at his feet? How he’d sensuously turned that confession against her and sent her body into a

  whimpering frenzy with every word, every whisper?

  She quickly turned and walked in the kitchen door, but not before she caught his mouth twitch for one

  brief second. She groaned inwardly. He remembered.

  Thankful that the warm kitchen disguised her flushed cheeks, she said over her shoulder, “We’ll go into

  the lounge room.”

  As she led him down the hall, the tide of impending doom tugged at her legs. Her lounge room was

  welcoming and expansive, with cream walls and pine colonial-style furniture, but she couldn’t help but

  think Cal could buy a place like this a thousand times over. He was decisive, powerful and obscenely

  rich. If Jillian thought to sell her on all those attributes, she was sorely mistaken. It only proved to her

  that Cal was unfamiliar with the word “no.”

  His closed expression pitched her stomach into queasy unrest. This man, with his brooding

  thoughtfulness and silent staring, who’d stormed back into her life and accused her of blackmail, was a

  complete stranger to her.

  What on earth was she thinking?

  She sat on the chaise longue and folded her legs under her, watching as he remained standing.

  “I apologize,” he began stiffly, “for yesterday. I believe I could have come off a little…”

  “Pushy?” she offered, surprised.

  “Determined,” he amended firmly. “I’m not used to making deals based on…” He ran his eyes over her

  and for one second, something flared in the dark depths before he shut it down. “…personal matters.”

  Ava could only stare. When he unflinchingly met her eyes, something clicked. He was actually

  embarrassed at admitting that—a man worth billions, a business genius who was a dead ringer for

  Russell Crowe and attracted women by the boatload. Yet his expression said he’d rather eat glass than

  reveal any emotional vulnerability.

  Despite herself, despite his demands, she felt a tiny thread of sympathy unfurl. Yet before she could say

  anything, he crossed his arms and swiftly changed the subject.

  “What I’m offering is a business proposition. You need money. In return, the baby—and you—will have

  the Prescott name and all that entails.”

  The smooth conciseness of his proposal took her aback for one heartbeat. In the next, she realized

  exactly what was happening: Sheer brute force hadn’t worked, so he was playing his next hand. Calm

  reasoning. She wondered what he’d try next if she refused. Seduction, perhaps? To her annoyance, a

  gentle anticipatory buzz tripped over her skin.

  “Won’t a wife put a downer on your lifestyle?” she said now, shoving those distracting thoughts aside.

  His eyes bored into her. “Let me make this clear—you are having my baby. Which means I want you.”

  Hot excitement fired through her veins, steamrolling every other thought into oblivion. She tried to will

  it away but it kept on coming, a constant pounding wave that alternately thrilled yet alarmed her.

  With a deep breath she finally managed to gain some modicum of control. Cal was simply claiming his

  child, that was all. He just wanted what she could give him.

  So why was she acting like a jittery fool in love?

  She dragged her eyes away, her mind spinning. Why couldn’t he be the man who’d stormed in her door

  and accused her of blackmail? At least that way she could refuse his demands with a clear conscience.

  Bottom line—losing Jindalee was not an option. And her other choices included bankruptcy and

  poverty. She also had Jillian to think about; she’d convinced her aunt to sell her little café and come live

  with her. And Cal was offering more than financial security, a chance to keep the land and ensure the

  Reilly legacy stayed in the family. He was willing—no, demanding—to be a presence in her child’s life.

  A man who wanted all the responsibilities that being a father entailed.

  That was more than a lot of children got these days, herself included.

  She finally glanced up, only to catch Cal studying her with an intensity that made her itch to smooth her<
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  hair and check her teeth.

  “What kind of arrangement did you have in mind?” she said now.

  “A legally binding contract. You marry me and in return I’ll pay off all your debts, plus give you any

  assistance necessary to see this place turn a profit.”

  “I’m not handing this place over to some manager. The land and property remain in my name.”

  “Naturally. But I do expect you to be in Sydney whenever I need you, to be available for functions,

  dinners and such.”

  “No.” Ava swallowed. A quickie wedding was one thing. But to publicly flaunt it, to pretend?

  He crossed his arms with a small sigh, a sure indication he’d lost patience. “Yes. Did you think I’d just

  give you money and that’d be it until the child was born?”

  “I thought…”

  “Well, you thought wrong.” His jaw tightened. “This is my stipulation.”

  Any hope of taking the money and keeping a low profile quietly disintegrated. “So I’m to be your arm

  decoration.”

  “My fiancée,” he corrected. “You will be my wife, the mother of my child, and I expect you to conduct

  yourself accordingly. As I will.”

  She blinked. “Which means?”

  “No unscripted interviews, no tell-all book deals if and when we divorce.” His eyes suddenly darkened.

  “And no lovers while we’re married.”

  A surprised breath tore at her throat. “I need to think.” Quickly she rose and the room tilted beneath her

  feet. Just as she grabbed the longue, Cal’s hand shot out to steady her.

  The shock was so instantaneous, so unexpected, that she gasped. As his long fingers curled around her

  upper arm, her treacherous flesh caved. A sudden flicker of heat sparked in her belly, sending desire

  across her skin, making her muscles ache with want.

  As if her mind could sense the thin thread of control she teetered on, that night came flooding back in

  hot, bright technicolor. His eager mouth on hers, on her neck. His sure, skilful hands cupping her

  breasts, teasing her nipples into peaking hardness. And his hot passionate breath trailing a path of

  seduction from her navel down to—

  She pulled away, refusing to meet his eyes, barely managing a “thank you.” Inside, she tried to squelch

  the spurt of panic but reality crashed in. If she wanted to save Jindalee, she had no other choice.

  She rubbed her cheek, surprised at the heat beneath her hand. There was no denying her body’s reaction

  to his simple touch. She wanted him. Even after just one night, after his accusations and demands, she

  wanted him.

  With an inward groan, she crossed her arms. “Fine. After you leave for Sydney I’ll keep you updated on

  the baby’s progress. Of course I will—”

  “No. I’m flying home this afternoon. You’re coming with me.”

  “Today? That wasn’t part of the deal.”

  Cal paused, as if chewing back his words with infinite patience. “Being my wife means social functions,

  outings, the whole shebang. Starting immediately. I’ve also booked you in to see a top paediatrician on

  Tuesday.”

  She frowned. “Do I have any say in this?”

  “On this, no. Which reminds me…” he flipped open his phone and dialled, exchanged a few words, then

  hung up. “We’ll be back here next Sunday with my team,” he said. “They’ll need a tour, plus your

  existing marketing and advertising strategy. I assume you do have one?”

  She straightened her shoulders with an indignant glare. “Yes.”

  “I’ve also authorised payment of your loans and any other outstanding debts.” He shoved his hands on

  his hips. “Anything else?”

  Howsabout you build a time machine and go back about nine weeks? The words bubbled up in her

  throat but she quickly swallowed them. Mutely she shook her head.

  “Ava? Are we in agreement?”

  She nearly whimpered as Cal’s deep voice flowed over her, kicking up her pulse another notch. Stop.

  Please stop talking, before I completely lose it. Her feet rocked, her heart hammering in her chest.

  “What happens after the baby’s born?” she said hoarsely. “What if we…decide it’s not working?” What

  if you decide playing daddy isn’t fun anymore? What if I end up hating you? What if you fall in love with

  someone? Her heart twisted for a second, surprising her.

  “Thinking about divorce before we’re even married?” He quirked one eyebrow up and she flattened her

  mouth until her lips hurt.

  “Yes.”

  He gave her a slow, considering look. “If that time comes, I’m open to discussing it. Not before. I’ve put

  a clause in the prenup to address that. But regardless of what we decide, I’m still that child’s father.”

  The underlying thread of possessiveness was undeniable. If that didn’t drop her stomach, then the “if the

  time comes” bit did. Of course the time would come. A country girl and a big-city billionaire were no

  more suited than chalk and cheese. No one these days based a marriage purely on financial gain. No one

  except her, that is.

  She nodded, even as perverse disappointment rioted through her. “So you’re asking me to marry you?”

  Cal dragged his eyes away from the hollow of her neck to focus on her eyes. “Does this mean you’re

  saying yes?”

  “Are you asking me to marry you?” she repeated, crossing her arms across her chest. Unfortunately, it

  only drew his attention to her breasts, which were now pushing seductively up from the deep V of her

  buttoned shirt.

  Cal’s words inexplicably stuck to the roof of his dry mouth. Then he suddenly recalled their earlier

  conversation. He hadn’t asked her. He cleared his throat. “Ava. Will you marry me?”

  She took a breath, almost as if drawing in strength. “Yes. But with stipulations.”

  “Go on.”

  She flushed but kept right on going. “Any major decisions, any changes concerning Jindalee must be

  first approved by me.”

  Cal frowned. “My team is better equipped to decide—”

  “This is my land, Cal.” She levelled an unwavering gaze at him. “I get the final say-so.”

  “Okay,” he conceded, finally seating himself on the arm of a sturdy one seater. “I’ll have my solicitor

  put it in the contract.”

  Ava stilled, waiting for a sign, anything that would let her know she was either making a colossal

  mistake or doing the right thing. Nothing. And as the seconds ticked by, she took another breath, then sat.

  “I plan to be a hands-on mother, which means I won’t be handing this baby over to a nanny just so I can

  swan off to parties with you.”

  His brief flash of surprise quickly disappeared with a cool nod. “Understood.”

  “And…” She faltered. “One more thing. The sleeping arrangements.” One eyebrow kinked up but he

  said nothing. Under his scrutiny she felt the traitorous heat bloom across her skin. “I don’t think it would

  be a good idea to…well…”

  “Have sex?” He leaned back, carefully crossing his ankle over one knee as his mouth twitched. His

  nonchalant amusement only deepened her embarrassment.

  “Well, yes.”

  He shrugged. “If that’s what you want.”

  Ava nodded, mortification clogging her throat. Of course it’s what she wanted. He thought she was a

  woman who got herself pregnant just to blackmail him. She had more self-respect than to jump into bed

  with a man who
believed she was a common criminal.

  Yet his quick acquiescence seared the edges of her womanly pride. As she studied him, she recalled an

  article she’d once read…something about pregnant women being a huge turn-off for some men. She’d

  never pegged Cal for one of those men. But then, they’d been lovers for only one fleeting night—what

  did she really know about her husband-to-be?

  She felt the blood drain from her face. Her husband. To be.

  “Then it’s settled.” He leaned forward, hand outstretched and for a second she just stared at him. At his

  questioning look, she quickly took his hand, sealing the deal and her fate with one firm handshake.

  Yet her mind wasn’t on the deal they’d just struck—it was on the way his long fingers wrapped around

  hers, enveloping her in heat and…something more, something almost protective. Something that tugged

  at the deepest part of her, that spoke to every teenage yearning, every wish list of happy-ever-afters

  she’d ever made. Here was a man in every sense of the word—strong, determined, a provider. The sheer

  command of his very presence took her breath away.

  “Ava?”

  With a jolt she realized she still held his hand and worse, she’d been stroking it with her thumb.

  With a gasp she tried to pull back, but he refused to let her go. Instead she stood but he followed her, his

  hand still imprisoning hers.

  “Ava…” he trailed off, almost as if rethinking his next words.

  “Cal, please.” Please don’t? Or please do? Her head said one thing, her body another, and from the

  sudden awareness sparking in his dark eyes, she knew which one he’d chosen to hear.

  Please do.

  He drew her to him with all the skill and confidence of a man who knew she wouldn’t refuse. He cupped

  her elbows, pinning her to his chest, to that warm, hard wall of muscle beneath soft cotton that cried out

  to be touched, caressed. Kissed.

  She closed her eyes as heat and desire turned her brain to mush, waiting in willing anticipation for his

  lips to claim hers. A tremble started up in her belly, looping and swirling as she felt his warm breath

  gently swoop over her mouth. Her heart kicked up the tempo, beating hard in her throat, in her head. In a