Having the Billionaire's Baby(6)

"Company policy?" he asked in a deceptively calm voice.

Given what had happened between Jason and Melody, she could hardly insist that it was. "Personal ethics," she said instead.

For long seconds he continued to study her. Finally he looked away and   relief washed through her at the break in the tension. He took a sip of   his wine, savored it before swallowing. He'd heard her defense; she   didn't know if he believed it.                       
       
           



       

"Look, Nick. We shared … " She broke off as a second waiter appeared and placed a plate of mango salad in front of each of them.

"Fantastic sex." He finished for her in a voice that was low, but not   low enough. The waiter's eyes widened as he looked at her. Callie glared   at him and he backed deferentially away.

She transferred her glare from the waiter to its rightful target, but   chose to neither confirm nor deny the question. Denying it would be a   blatant lie, and confirming it suddenly seemed like a very bad idea.

"A night."

He smiled at her choice of words.

"Of freedom. But … "

"But?" There was something in his eyes. A memory?

Much as she didn't want to, she remembered too. "That's all it was."   She'd had her taste of that kind of freedom, and it wasn't for her. That   one night had crystallized her goals and needs. Her plans for her life   centered on her business and hopefully one day finding the right man, a   man who appreciated the simple things in life-like love-a man who  wanted  to settle down and have children. Even if she hadn't heard Nick  ending a  relationship that was looking like too much commitment, the  research  she'd done on him after she came home told her not only of his   phenomenal success in business-buying up companies like she bought   coffees-but also of the string of glamorous women he dated.

The MC's voice broke over them as he announced the winner of the first   category. Callie applauded as Tony, a colleague and university   classmate, headed for the stage. He made a brief speech of acceptance   and thanks.

As the main course-mustard-seared rack of lamb-was served, Callie picked   up her fork and, from the corner of her eye, watched as Nick picked up   his. She saw his hands, strong and capable, remembered what those  hands  had done to her. Nick leaned closer. She caught his scent again,  and  despite or perhaps because of her anger, it stirred something else   equally primal, and equally resented. Because all they had shared was   dancing and sex, all her thoughts associated with him were physical and   intimate. She fought to shut down that awareness.

He nodded at her untouched wine glass. "You're not drinking."

Again she was caught off guard by where his thoughts might be heading. "I don't." She tried to sound nonchalant.

"You did at the wedding."

"Not much. Mostly I just carried the glass around." As though holding a   glass could make her look like she was having a good time. "And it's  not  a commandment or anything. I make the occasional exception." Like,  if  she really felt the need to fortify herself as she had that night.

Tonight, on the other hand, she got the feeling she needed her wits about her more than anything else.

"Are you pregnant?"

Callie's fork clattered to her plate and she looked up. A frown pleated   his brow. His eyes had softened as they searched her face. She looked   away.

"Keep your voice down. It's not going to be good for my business if the rumor starts circulating that I'm pregnant."



The MC introduced Len Joseph, an old mentor of Callie's and an industry   stalwart, who would be announcing the nominations for Innovation in a   Small Business, the category she was a surprise finalist in.

"I wondered, because of-"

"I'm not." She cut him off before he could say the words "broken condom"   aloud. That had been the one awful surprise in an otherwise blissful   night. But it had broken early during their lovemaking, and they'd   assured each other it would be okay. She closed her eyes for a few   seconds. Please let this be over and then she could slip out of here and   never have to see this man and all the things he reminded her of  again.

"You've had your period?"

She opened her eyes and looked hastily around to make sure no one was   listening in on their conversation. "Yes." She'd had her period. It had   been a little late and a little light, but she'd definitely had it.   "Now, could we change the subject, please?"

Some of the tension eased from Nick's jaw and shoulders. What would he   do, or want to do, if she had become pregnant? He'd surely be appalled   by the prospect. And she couldn't blame him. She wouldn't know what to   do herself. But to get pregnant after her one and only one-night stand   would have surely been both incredibly unlikely and incredibly unlucky.

And she would have had only herself to blame. She should never have   acted on the compulsions of that glittering night. Besides, she'd   provided the condoms. She had slipped the little box, a present from her   PA, into her evening bag as she'd got ready that evening, never   expecting to use them. They were a symbol of her independence, a step on   her journey of liberation.                       
       
           



       



She'd decided, as she'd worried about the repercussions of what she'd   done, that some kinds of liberation weren't all they were cracked up to   be. What she sought lay within herself, not with someone else.

Callie turned back to her unwanted meal. And yet, there was that loudly   ticking biological clock, the one that had lately started chiming the   quarter hour, as well, and that little voice that, when she was least   expecting it, whispered "a baby" in reverential tones. She might not   know precisely what she'd do if she was pregnant, but she couldn't help   sometimes wondering. After her relief at the arrival of her period  there  had been a quiet, fleeting disappointment.

Suddenly, Robert Harvey clapped her on the back. Applause sounded and   Callie looked up to see her stunned face on the enormous screen at the   front of the room.

Dammit. She'd won her category.

She dredged up a smile; but as she stood to walk to the stage, Len   noticed Nick and called him to come up with her as a representative of   Cypress Rise. Callie couldn't believe it. Wasn't it just her luck that   the two men knew each other?

Nick's hand touched lightly at the small of her back as she climbed the   stairs, and she had to fight the urge to spin around and slap it away,   because even that courteous touch caused sparks of unwanted awareness.

She accepted the plaque and the asymmetrical glass award with a kiss on   the cheek from Len, then turned to find Nick directly in front of her.   "Congratulations," he said, and she couldn't read the expression in his   eyes. Strong hands curled around her bare upper arms as he bent to  kiss  her briefly on one cheek. "I remember the scent of your perfume."  The  softly spoken words teased across her skin. "It's haunted me for  the  last month." He kissed her other cheek, Italian fashion. The  applause  increased. Fingers trailed the length of her arms as he  stepped away. He  was playing to the audience, the louse, and could have  no idea how very  much he disconcerted her.

"Touch me again after this," she said with a wide smile, knowing only he   would hear her words "and I'm sure I could find a novel use for this   sharp and surprisingly heavy award."

Nick's quiet laughter was low and deep and seemed to resonate at a   frequency her body was attuned to, stirring … feelings. Feelings she   couldn't-didn't want to name.

He stood behind her as she made a brief, impromptu acceptance speech.   She could feel his presence, an aura of charisma and attraction. She   hastened back down the stairs, but was stopped at the bottom by a   photographer from a business publication covering the event. "Ms.   Jamieson, a photo of you and your client, please? Mr. Brunicadi, could   you stand a little closer?"

A flash went off as she was about to respond.

"Thanks." The man dashed off while bright spots still floated in front of her eyes.

Callie headed toward her table. The temptation to keep right on walking   was fierce. She needed to get away from this man who made her think of   the touch of city lights on the planes and contours of his body, who   made her remember how she had been when she was with him-uninhibited,   passionate-a woman she didn't quite recognize.