by Mia Caldwell
“Thank God,” she said, starting to feel a little self-conscious as his hot gaze raked over her naked body.
His eyes flashed, then he gave the devil’s own grin. “Now, the DNA manipulation techniques you developed, that’s another matter. I’ve got plenty of interest left in that, though it’s seriously on the back burner at the moment.”
Amara blinked once, twice. He was joking, right? Surely. He had to be joking. “You don’t mean that.”
“I do,” he said, unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his pants. “Damn, you’re sexy. Hot as hell in the bedroom and a genius money-maker in the lab. I’m going to take you hard and —”
“Wait a minute,” Amara interrupted, sitting upright. “What do you mean, a money-maker in the lab?”
He unzipped his fly, and Amara couldn’t resist a peep. Hmm. Boxer briefs. Her favorite. Especially with a bulge the size of —
“I don’t know what I mean,” Quint said. “You’ll have to forgive me, but I’m not exactly thinking with my brain right now.” He stared at her bare breasts.
She grabbed a pillow from behind her and held it in her lap, covering herself for the most part. “Well, I’m thinking with my brain, and it’s wondering what you mean about my DNA extraction techniques and money.”
His pants fell around his ankles, and he stood there beside the bed, hands on lean hips, chest bare and muscles rippling over his chest and stomach. And his thighs. He had very powerful-looking thighs.
“You’re beautiful,” he said.
“That won’t work. I’m distracted now, and I can’t think of anything but what you meant by that.”
He sighed in frustration. “I was joking.”
“Tell me, do you care about feeding hungry people, or do you only care about making money off of hungry people?”
“Can’t I do both?”
“Nope.”
He bent over and pulled up his pants. “You’re wrong. You’re taking the typical far-left stance that charity must be non-profit and you’re —”
She’d interrupted him then, hotly accusing him of greedy self interest, and the conversation had only gone downhill from there. The flames of passion which had pulled them together, now turned on them and drove them apart.
Amara quickly dressed herself, grabbed up her purse and headed to the door.
“This was a complete waste,” she muttered loudly as she opened the door.
Behind her, Quint blew out a long breath. “Amara, this got out of hand. Come back. Let’s talk about it. We’ll have a drink and calm down. Talk it out.”
She stopped in the doorway and turned to look at him. He was a magnificent sight, standing in the spacious, glamorous living room, the indirect light from the wall sconces playing over the smooth skin of his bare chest.
She mentally shook herself. No. She wouldn’t fall under his spell again.
“There’s nothing to talk out,” she said. “I thought you were interested in saving people’s lives. I see now you only wanted to get your hands on my techniques.”
“Trust me, I wanted to get my hands on much more than your techniques,” he said with a leer at her body.
She glared at him. “Funny. Ass.”
“I’m not trying to be funny. I won’t apologize for wanting what I want.”
“Nobody asked you to. But it would be nice if you didn’t pretend to be something you’re not. The whole wolf in sheep’s clothing thing is a whole lot of busted.”
“Sweetheart, I’ve never pretended a day in my life.”
She hated the cocky way he said that, the way his eyes gleamed and the smug set of his square jaw. And she hated the way it made her insides coil and uncoil.
“Goodbye,” she said. “Lose my number.”
She shut the door before he responded.
He’d never called.
Chapter Four
IT WAS HARDLY A BLIP ON the radar screen of Amara’s life, and yet she often thought of that night with Quint, her brief encounter with the billionaire. Though they had parted ways, both of them frustrated by the experience, Amara was sure she had far more to be upset about than Quint.
Even though her resentment had hardly waned over time, she always paid special attention when his name was mentioned in the media. From the cover of men’s fashion magazines to interviews on TV business channels, he cropped up often whether she looked for him or not. Coverage had been uncharacteristically positive in the last six months, mostly for his new focus on philanthropy.
She liked to think that their falling out might have had something to do with his change of heart, but more often than not she dismissed the idea. All men of means donated to their charities of choice. Whether it was out of genuine support or a desire to see their image improved, it hardly mattered.
Now here he was, standing so close she could reach out and touch him. Quint Forbes, and he smelled every bit as sexy and manly as she remembered. He exuded ultimate confidence. Something turned over inside her.
She cleared her throat softly, giving a quick shake of her head. “Yeah, it’s been a little more than a year since we … met. How have you been?” She nearly cringed at the lame line, but it was the best she could come up with considering the circumstances.
“Fine, fine. I keep busy,” he said, as smooth and easy as if they were actually old friends.
“Good. Me too.” Well, that was stupid, she thought.
He didn’t waste any time getting down to it. “I heard of your unfortunate circumstances and happened to be in town. No one deserves the kind of treatment you’ve received from your sponsors, and you in particular certainly don’t. I’m here to help.”
Amara couldn’t help the catty, impulse response that leapt from her lips before she could stop it. “Are you? Like last year? I’m not interested in selling, Quint — Mr. Forbes. Not the methodology, not the data, not even my notes. You can forget it.”
He gave a knowing smile. “No, I don’t expect you will. I hear that’s at the root of your current difficulties. Nothing is as dangerous as a jilted lover, I suppose. I don’t expect his criticism to stick for long, but you’ve had your funding pulled across the board over it. As I said, I’m here to help.”
As she watched him, Amara felt the stirrings of the attraction that had drawn them together in the first place, but she quickly quashed it. No time for romance — not when so much was on the line. A small voice inside asked her how Quint knew so much about her, how he knew about Frederik.
She felt a bit pressured, and all the more like bait, now that she knew who Dean Wilson’s guest was. Not only that, but Quint was wrong about her funding and overestimated her desperation by a long shot. “Not everyone has dropped me. FoodFirst is still on-board,” she said, head high.
One dark brow arched up, and he crossed his arms. “No, they’re not.”
She looked at him incredulously. He’d answered too quickly. He was lying. He had to be lying to get whatever he wanted in return for the favor he was doing her and the University. And she knew what he wanted; he’d told her that night in his hotel room.
“I just read the email this morning, Quint. They said, pending their independent investigation, they’re still with me.”
“Then I suppose they didn’t like what they saw. That, or they ultimately decided to go along with the pack. When was that email sent? It wasn’t today, I know that much. I spoke with the CEO personally this morning, and he outright said he was taking his lead from the others and pulling out. If you don’t believe me, I can get Dean Wilson back in. He knows they’ve backed out. Or should I call the CEO again and have him confirm it to you personally? I bet if you checked your email right now, you’d have the official revocation sitting in your inbox.”
Amara’s chest tightened. It couldn’t be true, could it? But Quint wouldn’t be lying, not when it was so easily checked. It was true.
She swayed slightly, and when Quint stepped forward to help steady her, she quickly held out her hand to stop him.
&nb
sp; “I’m fine,” she said. “It’s just … a surprise. I thought there was still a chance if I could keep FoodFirst. I’ll simply have to accept that it’s over.”
The word “over” echoed in her head, which suddenly felt empty, like a stretched balloon.
“There’s no reason for it to be over,” Quint said. “You’ve still got me.”
She dismissed the idea. “Ha. You know how I feel about what you’ve got to offer. Or should I say, how I feel about what you want to take. But hey, it’s you or nothing, right? I guess I don’t have any choice.” She hated how bitter she sounded, but it was an accurate reflection of her feelings, so it couldn’t be helped.
Quint’s brow came down in confusion, and maybe a little surprise. “Is that so bad? I’ve had an earnest change of heart. Your anger after our parting made me reconsider my motivations. I realized after a few weeks of research and inquiry that a more reliably and safely fed population is good for everyone — not only ethically, but monetarily as well.”
Amara found it hard to believe he could have had such an abrupt change of heart.
He continued, undeterred by her obvious skepticism. “I think if you free people from the chains of hunger, they can better improve their lives through the industry capitalists want to create for them. Within a generation or two, they can join the global economy as equals in all senses.”
Amara nodded. It was the classic argument her kind used to get donations out of rich kinds like Quint.
“I’m not concerned with my own profits,” he said. “It’s always troubled me that an area so rich in natural resources was so destitute, monetarily and medically. I now realize why. It’s not only a remnant of colonial exploitation, but also a consequence of the hunger and desperation they face on a daily basis. I’d like to help you change that, Amara.”
“The university will certainly appreciate any donation you give, and I’m sure they’ll use it wisely, whether I’m involved or not,” she said, thinking Dean Wilson should be proud of her. Maybe he’d be proud enough to let her keep her job now that her last sponsorship was pulled.
“I’m not interested in merely giving even more of my money to charities,” Quint said, making Amara sigh a little inside. “I want to make a direct, measurable difference in their lives, and I want to help you do that. We’re on the same page this time, I swear.”
Amara nodded slowly as he neared the end. His sincerity was obvious, the regret all over his face as he spoke about his change of opinion and his desire to help. Still, she was on edge, considering what happened the last time they were together, and considering her precarious position at the moment. It was too easy, too much. She doubted he was telling her everything.
When she didn’t verbally respond, Quint went on. “I do genuinely want to help, of course. More specifically, I want to help you to help them. Unfortunately, I find myself in a difficult situation as well, and there’s something I need to ask of you in return for this assistance.”
Ah, there it was, Amara thought. It all made sense now. The catch. The quid pro quo. She’d known a man like Quint Forbes couldn’t do something just because it was the right thing to do. Men like Quint always had ulterior motives.
She crossed her arms over her chest and gave her best disinterested expression. “What do you want?”
“I suppose there’s no easy way to say it.” He paused for a moment and studied her before finally letting it out. “I want you to have my baby.”
Chapter Five
AMARA ROLLED HER EYES AND waved a hand. “Hilarious. Good one. Now tell me what you actually want. I assume it has to do with the DNA sequencing technique I — ”
“It wasn’t a joke.” He scowled at her, his brows drawing together. She remembered seeing that exact same scowl in the hotel room when she accused him of having no social conscience, of being a heartless predator.
“I’m absolutely sincere,” he said. “I haven’t found the right woman to marry, but that shouldn’t mean I can’t be a father. I wouldn’t expect you to raise the child, of course. Quite the opposite. You’ll sign over custody, relinquish all parental rights. I want you to be my child’s surrogate mother, except, of course, we’ll be using your egg as well as your womb. That’s part of the deal. I definitely want your genes.”
She barked out a nervous laugh. “My eggs as well as my womb? Ha! Have you lost your mind?”
“No. This is a legitimate offer.”
Her laughter quickly faded and her mouth dropped open, her eyes wide. “I couldn’t possibly do something like that. I can’t imagine why you thought I might.”
“I think it’s a small price to pay, considering what I’m prepared to do. Do remember, at this point you have absolutely no funding. FoodFirst is out, as are all the others. You cast your appeal wide to begin with, and even if every single potential donor responded, you’d never have near the amount of control or funding you’ll have with me, my connections, and my wealth at your back.”
Amara turned from him. “I don’t get it. This is bizarre.”
Quint placed a hand on her shoulder, but she quickly shrugged it off as she turned back to face him. Her body reacted instantly to his touch, just as it had the first time their hands met. She did her best to recover her composure.
“Why would you make a condition like that? Why me?” she asked.
“You’re everything I could want in a mother for my child. You’re intelligent, beautiful, gifted in countless ways.” His hand returned to his side, and he gave a slight, low nod. “I’m sorry to spring it on you like that, but you and I both have urgent needs.”
“You don’t need a child urgently, not the way I need funding.”
“You can’t know that,” he said. “You don’t know what I need and how quickly I need it.”
“Perhaps not. But I’m not having sex with you, Quint. Absolutely not.”
He shook his head. “I don’t expect you to. It’s not as if I want to pick up where we left off in my hotel room last year. We’ll use artificial insemination, and I’ll provide absolutely everything you could possibly need for the duration of the pregnancy and anything you require after the birth. Every bill will be seen to, and you’ll have the absolute best care that can be provided.”
“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.”
“But we are. And it’s not as crazy as you think. I have a need that you can fulfill. You have a need that I can fulfill. It’s business,” he said.
Business, she thought. Hardly. “We’d have a child together, Quint. That’s not business.”
“We’ll make it that way. You won’t even have to see me again after today, if you don’t want to, at least, not until the baby is born. And even then, I can simply come to collect my son or daughter and be on my way.”
“Like Rumpelstiltskin.”
“Hardly. As long as you’re cognizant of your choices and their impact on the health of my child, you’ll retain complete autonomy. And, you’ll have everything you need to feed all the people you could ever want. Think about that, Amara. Sure, you had funding, but you never had as much as you truly needed, did you?”
She shrugged. No, there was never enough. It was a constant struggle to get the bare minimum she needed to advance her research. She’d learned how to make do with what she could get. The idea of plenty, of not having to make do anymore, was beyond enticing.
She’d never wanted children, but it was for entirely different reasons than most people who remained childless. She already had a world full of children who needed not only her attention and love, but her help.
She always accepted that she couldn’t abandon them for the selfish purpose of raising one of her own, not when a child of her own would most certainly affect the amount of time she could devote to her research.
Giving Quint what he wanted would enable her to do exactly what she needed to do for the millions of children who depended on her and her research. If she didn’t make a Devil’s bargain with Quint, everyone she
’d gotten to know in Nigeria would continue to suffer. Their children would slowly starve, trying desperately to live on a nutritionally deficient crop — the only one that would grow in their marginal soil.
Nine months of pregnancy? Giving up the rights to a child she knew she would never have had to begin with? Sacrificing one child, her child, for the lives of millions?
No, she wasn’t sacrificing the child. She was giving it to a man who wanted to be a father. Why, though?
“Why now, Quint?” she asked. “Why are you suddenly so interested in being a father? None of this makes any sense. Help me understand.”
Something flashed across his features, but she couldn’t put a finger on what it was. Then it was gone, and he was his usual, confident self.
“I’ve always wanted children,” he said smoothly. “Some months back, I had a health scare that reminded me time is short.”
An unexpected jolt shot through Amara. “You’re okay, though?” It was hard to imagine him being anything but healthy and strong.
“Yes, I’m fine. Turned out to be nothing, but it woke me up to a new understanding. I want a child, and when I heard about your situation this seemed an ideal solution. I’m simply responding to an opportunity that has presented itself, and I’m taking advantage of it for the good of us both. I hope, anyway, that you’ll see the good in it.”
Funny thing, she was beginning to see the good in it.
“I’ll triple your budget,” he said.
She frowned. “I’m not holding out to get you to make a higher bid. You’re making me feel dirty.”
“Not my intention. I already planned to triple your budget. I do believe in what you’re trying to do. Remember that, Amara.”
Her mind whirled. It was a small price to pay, wasn’t it? One egg. Nine months. But it was a child, her child. She began to think it through.
She raised her chin and looked up at him. “I don’t want to see the child after it’s born. You have to come take it away immediately. I don’t think I’d be able to give him or her up if I actually saw —”