Having the Billionaire's Baby(8)

"I'm starting to see a picture," she said, her head tilted to one side.   "Last night's insinuation of seduction and deception, this morning's   ill-founded accusations." She pulled out the chair opposite him and sat   down. "This has something to do with Jason and your sister, hasn't it?"

"You tell me. Explain the late-night phone calls, explain your reluctance to sell."

She continued studying him, but didn't answer his questions. "You were   very quick to believe I had an ulterior motive in sleeping with you."   Humor suddenly danced in her eyes. "Do women usually need one?"

He suppressed the smile that threatened. "It's not been my experience."   He turned the tables back on Callie. "So you're saying it was   attraction, pure and simple?"

Her eyes widened as she realized the trap she'd fallen into. "A passing attraction," she said quickly.

This time he let his smile show. Because, despite what either of them   said, the attraction was still there, sizzling in the air between them.

She looked away. He used the opportunity to study the curve of her neck   exposed by the ponytail she'd pulled her hair into, the delicate ears   that had turned a pale shade of pink.

"Who told you I wouldn't sell my share of the business?" Her gaze seemed   to be directed at the distant vineyard. "It wasn't Jason, was it?"

"No," he admitted. And his chagrin was as much for the fact that it was   Callie who'd recalled him to the business at hand when his mind had   wanted to linger on other thoughts, as for the fact that she was right.



"Do you always rely on second-hand information?"

He wasn't going to let her make this about him. "I have no doubt about the credibility of my sources."

She studied him thoughtfully for a few seconds before speaking again.   "I'm sure you trust your sister." It was no great surprise that she'd   figured that much out, and he quelled the flare of admiration. "But   either she's drawing inferences that are incorrect, or Jason isn't   telling her the full story." She paused, thinking. "I don't think he   would outright lie to either of you, he's not dishonest, but he's   extraordinarily skilled at not revealing information that reflects badly   on himself. It comes down to a kind of insecurity, and a need for   control."                       
       
           



       

"Spare me the psychoanalysis of your ex-boyfriend." The thought of her   with Jason bothered him more than it should. "Are you saying you are   willing to sell your share of the business?"

"No." Her answer was quick.

"Then he is telling the truth?"

"No."

Nick raised an eyebrow.

She folded her arms across her chest, full breasts lifted beneath the   soft cotton of her T-shirt. Had she done that deliberately? As a   diversionary tactic it was incredibly effective. He trained his gaze on   her narrowed eyes, could see no duplicity, only indignation.

"I don't have to explain myself to you. I suggest you talk to your new brother-in-law."

Her weary frustration wasn't going to sway him. Nick pulled his phone   from his pocket. "Should I cancel my flight?" He almost wanted to. It   would mean more time sparring with her. But he knew once again that that   was his libido speaking.



"Put the phone away, the intimidation attempts are growing tiresome."

He hid his surprise. If circumstances were different, he could enjoy   crossing swords with this woman. She was quick, insightful and   definitely no pushover.

Callie uncrossed her arms and placed her palms flat on the table, making   it rock and threatening her drink again. "Check your facts," she   challenged. "Ivy Cottage PR is my business. I started it, I built it up.   Jason came into it later and was a big part of the business-the front   man, keeping in good with the media, the suave salesman charming the   clients." Nick thought of Melody and how Jason had swept her off her   feet.

Callie continued. "But I'm the creative side. I do the planning and the   actual work. The agreement I had with Jason was for him to sell his   share of the business to me. Only, he's changed his mind about the price   we agreed on and now wants far more than his share is worth. The   business is doing well, but I can't carry that kind of financial   burden." The frustration was clear in her voice. "That's as much as I'm   prepared to tell you. If you're still interested in hearing more of the   sorry details, take it up with him."

Check your facts, she'd said. Usually he knew every nuance, every   possible angle of any deal he was interested in. Today he was acting   only on Melody's say-so. And although Melody was genuinely worried, she   could sometimes be too quick to react. He didn't want to doubt his   sister, but he wanted to believe this woman with the fire in her eyes   too. Wanted to with a need that went deeper than it should. He ignored   that need. He had to, at least until he knew the truth. "Rest assured I   will. In the meantime, stop calling him."



"I will call my business partner whenever I deem it necessary. You have   no power over me. If Jason doesn't answer my calls during the day, then   I'll try him at night."

Her defiance shouldn't have surprised him. He'd do the same were their   positions reversed. Nick opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off.   "Your sister may be happy for you to interfere in her life, but rest   assured, Mr. Brunicadi, I won't tolerate interference in mine." She   stood up and pulled a set of car keys from her pocket. "I'm going out   now. I figure that's the only way I can guarantee to free myself from   your company. But I hope for both our sakes you catch your flight,   because I never want to lay eyes on you again."

If he challenged that assertion, if he stood and curved his hand around   her neck, touched his lips to hers, how would she react? He shouldn't   even want to know.

She may not want to tolerate what she called his interference, but he   did what he needed to protect those he loved. He stayed seated while she   stalked away, all long legs and bouncing ponytail. At the top of the   steps she paused, then turned back. "How much do you have to do with   Cypress Rise wines?"

"Very little. Usually. It's Melody's baby."

Relief flashed in those liquid eyes. "Thank goodness for that."

"I'm flattered." If she'd felt something for him once, he'd surely killed it. He shouldn't feel the cold sense of loss.

"You've got to admit it would be extremely uncomfortable."

He shrugged. "It could be. For as long as you're a part of Ivy Cottage,   or for as long as your firm has Cypress Rise's business."



She walked back toward him with slow, deliberate footsteps, studying his   face. "Is that a threat? Will you move the account because of what   happened between us or because of baseless accusations?"

"We make business decisions based on sound reasoning." He didn't tell   her that any decision would be made by Melody alone, and Melody wanted   only the best for Cypress Rise. That was why she'd chosen Ivy Cottage PR   in the first place, and she'd been more than happy with that choice.   "It was merely an observation. The PR industry is notoriously fickle."                       
       
           



       

"Actually, I've found my clients to be incredibly loyal."

"Then you're very lucky."

"Or very good, Mr. Brunicadi. I believe you're aware of the award I won recently."

He almost smiled. That was the second time she'd called him Mr.   Brunicadi, as though belated formality could somehow erase the intimacy   of what they'd shared. "Given our past, I think you can call me Nick.   And I'm well aware of how good you are."

He saw by the widening of her eyes and the heightening of her color that   she'd caught the double entendre. "Leave the paper behind." She did an   admirable job of speaking through clenched teeth. "Don't do the   crossword. And shut the gate behind you when you go out." Chin high and   back ramrod straight, she stalked off again and disappeared around the   side of the house. A minute later, an engine roared into life and a   silver Triumph MG, old but in good condition, sped down the driveway,   kicking up a cloud of dust in its wake.