Billion dollar baby bargain.txt

by Неизвестный

  “Cal,” she said firmly, pasting on a gentle smile to appease any casual observers to their exchange. “As

  much as I appreciate your ‘happily engaged couple’ act, you really need to stop.”

  His whole body went completely still.

  “I didn’t realize you were uncomfortable with my attentions.”

  And just like that, there was a universe between them.

  He may have left his arm around her waist but Ava felt the exact moment he mentally withdrew. The set

  to his jaw, the cool way his eyes glanced at her then back to the party, made her want to reverse time and

  take everything back.

  She lifted her chin, refusing to let her disappointment show. This was real life, not the movies. He

  wasn’t about to fall desperately in love with her just because she was having his child. If anything, their

  circumstances only exacerbated distrust, and given what Isabelle had revealed about his past, she didn’t

  really blame him or—

  Shock and confusion caught in her throat, rattling around for a few agonising seconds before she slowly

  exhaled. No, no way. Cal Prescott didn’t fall in love, least of all with someone he didn’t trust.

  She eased her weight from one foot then the other, a movement Cal’s eagle eyes didn’t miss.

  “Tired?”

  A second ago he’d been aloof, even angry. Now he radiated nothing but solicitousness. A shard of

  emotion pierced her composure, shocking her. Was she actually jealous of her unborn child? It was

  irrational and shallow but there it was. The baby in her belly—not her—provoked awe, tenderness,

  concern. She might just as well be an incubator.

  “Ava? Are you okay?”

  She nodded, unable to speak past the emotion clogging her throat.

  “Okaaay.” His gaze became unreadable. “Our flight’s at eight tomorrow. You want to go home?”

  Home. She glanced around the crowded room, at the warm press of strangers laughing, drinking and

  talking, and felt a pang of homesickness so deep it made her chest ache. “Yes. I want to go home.”

  He gave her an odd look before placing his hand on her back. “Then let’s go.”

  Seven

  T he next morning, parked outside VP Tech in Cal’s car, a call of nature forced Ava into the foyer in

  search of a bathroom. His “I’ll be a few minutes” was well on its way to fifteen by the time the smiling

  security guard directed her past the elevators to the restrooms at the far end.

  Ava stared at herself in the full-length bathroom mirror. Money shouldn’t change who a person was, but

  right now, seeing this unfamiliar glamorous woman staring back at her, she wasn’t so sure. Her hair,

  usually tied back in a simple ponytail, was now glossy and loose around her shoulders. The faded jeans

  had been replaced by a long-sleeved shirtdress, the short hem showing off her legs in fashionably high

  heels. Her face, her skin…she leaned in and blinked under the unforgiving lighting. Her eyes were

  wider, expertly emphasised with the help of Napoleon Perdis and Isabelle’s personal makeup stylist. Her

  mouth was positively pouty, the rich berry shade matching her dress.

  Ava pulled back with a frown. She wasn’t Ava Reilly, daughter of William and Bernadette, owner of

  Jindalee. She was…

  “Cal Prescott’s fiancée.” She paused, then gave an overly bright smile to her reflection. “Hello, I’m Ava

  Prescott.” She took a breath and stepped back. “I’m Mrs. Ava Prescott. Mrs. Ava Reilly-Prescott. Oh,

  ugh.” With a moue of distaste she whirled and shoved the door open with her shoulder.

  But just as she was about to round the frosted glass wall, Victor’s angry voice pulled her up short.

  “You ignore my calls and now you’re off back to the bush,” Victor was saying, the tinge of derision

  unmistakable. “The woman’s bankrupt. Surely that should tell you something?”

  Ava held her breath, cheeks flushing. When Cal spoke, the sharp edges in his clipped reply were

  unmissable.

  “What I do with my money is none of your business, Victor.”

  “But your time is. We have a dozen important meetings coming up this month, not to mention courting

  those American buyers.” Another pause, then Victor added more calmly, “You know your time is

  money. You can’t go jetting off to the back of beyond when you’re CEO. It’s neither acceptable nor

  necessary.”

  “Pot calling the kettle, Victor? You’ve been absent at least three times in as many weeks.”

  There was a long, awkward moment. “That’s got nothing to do with the company,” Victor finally said

  stiffly.

  “And who I’m marrying does?”

  That was it. Ava straightened her shoulders, shoved on her sunglasses, then closed the bathroom door

  with a loud click.

  As expected, Victor and Cal had fallen silent when she came into their line of sight. From behind her

  sunglasses, Ava ignored the thick tension and gave a breezy smile. “Hello, Mr. Prescott,” she

  acknowledged coolly. “How are you?”

  “Fine.”

  For once, his curt reply didn’t intimidate her. She’d learned a lot about handling rude people these past

  few days so instead, she looped her arm around Cal’s in casual intimacy. After the debacle of last night,

  her skin jumped with unexpected joy.

  “Bathroom break,” she said, holding out his car keys.

  Despite the layers of clothing, she felt the unmistakable heat from honed muscle just before his arm

  bunched beneath her touch. Yet his expression was unreadable, as if he’d shut everything down.

  Victor finally spoke. “Take another week to finalize this…project.” He barely flicked a glance towards

  Ava. “But remember VP Tech is your first priority.”

  “You don’t need to remind me about priorities, Victor.”

  A look passed between the two men but Ava was too disturbed to pay it any attention. Of course the

  company was his first priority. It was a fantasy to think she’d actually pondered giving in to her body’s

  demands, that some time in the last few days she thought Cal had begun to believe she was incapable of

  the deceit and that they’d had a chance of making this sham marriage work.

  She swallowed the throbbing hurt, taking a few seconds to gather her racing thoughts, to smooth her

  expression into something resembling neutrality.

  Victor’s gruff voice brought her back to the present.

  “Isabelle wants to throw you an engagement party.”

  Cal grimaced. “I don’t have—”

  “You’re getting married and your mother wants to celebrate it.”

  Ava felt Cal tense again just before he nodded and turned, steering her towards the door. “Fine. Jenny

  will let you know what day suits. Now if you’ll excuse us? We have a plane to catch.”

  Two hours later, Ava watched Cal take in Gum Tree Falls, seeing it through his eyes for the first time as

  they drove through: the single main street in all its unapologetic outback glory, old weather-beaten

  stores, cracked guttering that flanked the potholed bitumen road. The rolling hills in the distance,

  covered with native gum trees and bushland scrub, and the grazing sheep that were the lifeblood of the

  small country town.

  Sydney felt like a century away, not just a half-hour flight and twenty minute drive from Parkes, the

  closest town that could pass for civilisation.

  The ties of the past reached in, entwining around her chest, constricting her breath. And suddenly sher />
  was seventeen all over again, desperate to escape the chains of her youth. If she closed her eyes now, she

  could hear the gentle whispers starting up, a thousand buzzing flies swarming in her head.

  “What does ‘Jindalee’ mean?” Cal asked, breaking through her thoughts.

  She studied him as he drove, a picture of wealthy, sunglasses-clad confidence at the wheel of this top-ofthe-

  line hire car. “It’s Aboriginal for ‘one-tree hill.’ See?” She pointed to the main house, then the

  massive gum tree a hundred meters away. “My father built on the one hill he didn’t have to deforest.”

  “He was a conservationist?”

  Her mouth twisted as they pulled into Jindalee’s parking area. “No. Less labour, therefore, less cost.”

  Cal said nothing, instead dragging on the handbrake and killing the engine. Last time he’d barely had a

  chance to notice his surroundings. Now he swung open his door and took a long sweeping look.

  From the outside, the homestead fitted every sense of the word—walls made from large slabs and

  roughly mortared, topped with an olive-green corrugated roof. A wooden porch that ran right around the

  house. Two large plant pots with wild greenery flanked the wooden steps that led up to massive wooden

  double doors. A small wrought-iron table and two chairs sat to the left of the entrance; and on the right a

  wooden loveseat covered in a long, colourful cushion.

  As Cal reached in to remove their bags, the doors opened and a small, elderly woman emerged. When he

  straightened, the woman and Ava were deep in conversation, their heads side by side in comfortable

  intimacy.

  The woman gently swept her hand across Ava’s belly and said something, prompting Ava to laugh. That

  small, simple reaction seemed to relax her body and for one moment, he felt a shot of something race

  through his chest. Yet when Ava turned to include him in the welcome, he remained rooted to the spot.

  Since last night the strain between them had been palpable and he was unwilling to exacerbate that by

  intruding on the moment.

  Ava’s half curious, half confused frown finally propelled him forward.

  “Cal, this is Aunt Jillian.”

  Jillian’s welcoming hug was like being wrapped in a comforting blanket. Like Ava she only came to his

  shoulder, but the genuine warmth in her embrace shone through, creasing her face into a smile.

  “Welcome to Jindalee, Cal. I just wish you had more time to settle in before…” She looked at Ava

  apologetically. “Sorry, darling. Lord knows how she knew you were coming. I couldn’t get her to leave

  —”

  “Don’t worry, Aunt Jill.” Ava stroked her arm. To Cal she added, “You’re about to get a crash course in

  small-town curiosity.” Then she glanced over his shoulder, pasting on a too-bright smile. “Anne! How

  are you?”

  Cal turned to see a thin, middle-aged woman descend the stairs. Her greying hair was wound up into a

  wobbling bun as she fast-walked over to them, her long face split wide with a smile.

  “Look at you, Ava! All dolled up like some fancy city wife-to-be! I heard you’d gotten yourself engaged

  to a Sydney man and came to see with my own eyes.”

  Cal noticed the way Ava suffered the cheek kiss before pointedly pulling back. The woman didn’t notice

  anything amiss though, because she turned to Cal and kept right on talking.

  “I’m so thrilled Ava finally managed to find herself a man. I don’t have to tell you what a wild little

  thing she was. Born and raised in the Falls, just like me, but Ava, well, she’s been a little cracker from

  day one. It’s kept the whole town entertained, wondering what she’ll get up to next!” She paused to

  laugh, oblivious that she was the only amused one. “Let me see, when she was five, she was bitten by a

  redback, then the following year, a cattle dog—”

  “Anne,” interrupted Jillian, but the other woman was on a roll.

  “Oh, and skinny dipping in Reilly Dam when she was twelve. Then of course, there was the Dean

  incident,” she added sotto voce, “and let’s not even mention—”

  “Let’s not,” Ava said sharply.

  Startled, Anne blinked then quickly stuttered, “but you came good in the end!” She beamed, giving Ava

  a shoulder hug and shaking her firmly for good measure, unaware of Ava’s frozen expression. “I’m

  Anne Flanagan, by the way.”

  She offered her hand to Cal and he shook it. “Cal Prescott.”

  “Prescott?” Anne smiled indulgently at Ava. “I read that but thought it was a typo. ‘Surely that can’t be

  our Ava,’ I said to Jillian. ‘Isn’t that the name of the VP Tech billionaire?’”

  Cal couldn’t quite hide a self-satisfied smile. “That’s me. Victor Prescott is my father.”

  For one amused second he thought the woman would faint but Jillian swooped in to take Anne’s arm,

  steering her to her car. “It’s nearly nine. Don’t you have to open the café?”

  “Oh, yes!” Anne fluttered, digging in her purse for her keys. “And after you’re both settled in, come on

  over and I’ll fix you up coffee and scones, on the house. No, Ava, I won’t take no for an answer!” She

  opened the car door and beamed at them both. “Fancy that—a billionaire. You did well, Ava! Toodles!”

  And then she was gone in a roar of dust.

  Cal noticed Jillian had moved back towards the house, giving them privacy. Ava stood stock still, her

  back to him, facing the now-empty road as dust settled around them, until finally another car crested the

  rise, destroying the awkward moment.

  “Well.” Ava suddenly turned. “There’s your team. Let’s go in and get started, shall we?”

  The too-polite smile stretched her mouth wide, emphasising the odd sheen in her eyes before she blinked

  it away. She looked so alone yet so defiantly rigid that the urge to wrap her in his arms was almost like a

  physical ache.

  “Ava.”

  “What?” She reached into the hire car and retrieved her handbag, swinging it onto her shoulder before

  facing him. She just stood there, looking gorgeous and classy in that red dress and black coat, brittle

  control barely holding her expression together. He recognized the familiar act, the one where you

  pretend everything’s normal even when it was damn well not.

  “We’ll have to use my office,” she said brightly. “No doubt Jillian’s already seen to lunch and the tea

  breaks.”

  Her gaze held his, challenging him. With an inward sigh, he let it go with a nod.

  Yet as she clicked up the front steps, his eyes followed her. He’d get an explanation from her. Later.

  They’re guests, Ava told herself as Cal and his team followed her down the path to Jindalee’s guest

  houses. Just guests asking for a tour. No need to panic, no need to get nervous. She managed to remain

  calm and professional as she led them through the rooms, the kitchen, the dining area. But when it came

  time to settle into her office and pick apart just exactly where she’d gone wrong, those butterflies rushed

  up, fluttering crazily in her chest.

  After the meeting paused for lunch, Ava sat in her chair, her brain buzzing from everything they’d

  discussed. As the others gathered outside to debate the value of the amazing view, she and Cal were

  alone, the only sound the nervous in-out-in click of the pen beneath her thumb. When he pointedly

  glanced up from his papers, she flushed and shoved the pen across the table.

&
nbsp; Had she actually worried about losing control of the one thing that was still hers? Cal’s staff—Judy

  Neumann, Margie Mason and Jack Portelli—were professional and experienced, from suggesting color

  schemes and menu changes to creating a larger Internet presence and a membership incentive card.

  Her head spun with information overload and, lethargy forgotten, she scraped back her chair, went over

  to the low filing cabinet and poured herself a glass of juice. Cal had confidently presented this multimillion-

  dollar overhaul with the bottomless pockets of the Prescott name behind him. His team had

  enthusiastically gone through the proposal and she’d found herself seduced by their ideas, their energy.

  And when she’d glanced at Cal, she had been struck by his encouraging nods and satisfied smile at their

  presentation. He entered discussions but knew when to step back. He made suggestions and then let her

  make the final decisions. He had a way with his staff that didn’t stifle their creativity, didn’t step on toes

  and more importantly, let them take the lead while still maintaining control.

  He may be a tech geek, but the man was a natural with people, too.

  “What do you think?”

  Ava looked up, startled to find Cal standing beside her. “I’m amazed they came up with all this in such a

  short time. I’m very impressed, but—”

  “What?”

  “Do you really think marketing Jindalee as an exclusive health spa retreat will work?” She palmed the

  bottom of her glass, fingers wrapping around the cold condensation. “Wouldn’t the rich and famous

  rather party all night in a big city?”

  His mouth quirked. “There are some who’re interested in an authentic outback experience.”

  “With feather canopy beds and spa treatments?”

  “Our focus group wants the facade without the gritty reality. At Jindalee they’ll be fed, pampered and

  waited on, with this as their backdrop.” He swept his arm wide to encompass the unfettered view from

  the huge window. Mile upon mile of gently undulating hills backed him up, stark against the bright blue

  sky. The gum trees swayed as grey storm clouds massed in the far distance, threatening rain.