Having the Billionaire's Baby(9)

A little over a week later, Callie swung her car into the Ivy Cottage   parking lot. As always, she felt a swelling of pride at the sight of her   business. Everything from the gardens to the sign-written exterior was   both professional and welcoming.

She'd been nineteen when she first resolved never to be dependent on   someone else for her livelihood. Her PR firm was the end result of that   promise to herself. Over the years the business had had its ups and   downs, but she'd hung in there and weathered the storms.

The last twelve months with Jason's leaving hadn't been easy-his   departure had made several clients edgy, but they were pulling through.   And last week's award had already proved good for business. There had   been a marked increase in calls from prospective clients. That type of   acknowledgment was also reassuring for existing clients. She knew they   were happy with her work, because she got results, but independent   validation never hurt.

Swinging her satchel, she pushed open the front door and surveyed the   reception area-the comfortable leather couches, the apricot roses in a   vase on the coffee table. Shannon looked up from her computer screen,   her dark hair spiky and with a hint of-was that blue?-in it. "How was   your weekend?" Callie asked. Shannon's weekends were invariably more   interesting than Callie's, sometimes scarily so.

"Great. But don't worry. I didn't do anything you wouldn't do." Shannon   grinned, an impish smile that made her look so very young. Given that   Shannon could have no idea what Callie had done at Jason's wedding, she   oughtn't to be worried by that reassurance. "What about you?" Shannon   asked. "Any hot dates?"

"You know I don't do hot dates." The wedding incident couldn't even be classed as a date. Were there no bounds to her shame?



"You should, and when you were late I thought maybe finally … "

Callie laughed, the sound forced to her ears. "I overslept. And not,"   she forestalled Shannon, "because I'd been out on a hot date. It happens   sometimes."

"Yeah. But not to you."

"I'm human too."

"No." Shannon threw up her hands in mock horror, then dropped them to   her desk to give herself a shove and send her chair coasting backward.   "I'll get you some coffee. And I bet you didn't have breakfast, either,   if you overslept."

It felt odd being mothered by someone ten years her junior. "You're   right. I didn't. I'll get something from Dan the Sandwich Man when he   calls in. And maybe tea rather than coffee." Coffee hadn't been sitting   all that well with her the last few days. "I'll leave a couple of   dollars with you and you can get me a muffin from Dan. He always seems   to give you a particularly good deal."

Shannon smiled. "He likes my bad-girl looks. The nerdy ones have always been attracted to me."

The phone rang and Shannon picked it up. She held up her hand in a stop   gesture as Callie was about to head into her office. "I'll check for   you, sir, but her schedule is quite full today."

She hit the hold button and looked at Callie. "A man called Nick. He   seems to think you'll make time to see him. Sounds like the guy who was   looking for you the day of the awards dinner. Not bad-looking, either.   For an old guy."

Tension seized Callie at the very mention of his name. What did he want   this time? Whatever it was, she wasn't ready to see him. It was that   very reluctance that made her realize she'd best get this over and done   with. Besides, he'd already demonstrated he didn't take no for an   answer. "I can give him ten minutes at ten o'clock, otherwise it'll have   to be tomorrow." She ignored the surprised lift of Shannon's dark   eyebrow and pushed through her office door and away from her scrutiny.                       
       
           



       

A few minutes later Shannon brought in a cup of tea and confirmation of   her ten o'clock appointment. Her watchful silence was curious. Callie   ignored it.

If only it was as easy to ignore the threat of an impending meeting with   Nick Brunicadi. She was supposed to be working on a point-of-sale   brochure for a farm machinery company, but her progress was almost   nonexistent.

When Shannon tapped on her open office door Callie jumped, then quickly regained her composure. "Send him in," she said coolly.

"Dan?"

"Dan?" she repeated, uncomprehending at first. "Oh." She got to her feet, glad of the distraction.

Marc, her graphic designer, made an appearance in the reception area at   the same time as Callie, and together they pondered what suddenly felt   like a vital decision. An apricot Danish or a date scone?

Opting for one of each, Callie was standing with her hands full when the   front door swung open and Nick, radiating purpose, strode in. For a   second, the four of them already in reception, froze.

Shannon was the first to recover, discreetly placing her cinnamon bun   out of sight on her desk. "Good morning. You must be Nick."

He nodded, then looked at Callie, making her feel guilty with the lift   of one dark eyebrow and a glance at her full hands. "I can see why you   could only spare ten minutes."



She refused to be cowed. Transferring the scone to the Danish hand, she   held her chin high and her right hand out. Nick's gaze raked over her,   taking in her dark pants and jacket. If only she'd worn higher shoes,   that way she might at least be able to look him in the eye. With a smile   she didn't trust for a minute, he stepped closer to enfold her hand in   his. He held on for several beats too long, heat infusing what she'd   intended to be a cool, professional handshake. His expression was far   too complacent and far too unsettling because of it.

Callie broke the contact. "I'm surprised to see you again so soon."

"Not a pleasant surprise?" One corner of his lips tugged upward.

"Not at all," she agreed.

The wolfish smile grew. The dimple dimpled.

Damn him. He would make beautiful babies.

The thought ricocheted through her, accompanied by the knowledge that   her next period was now a couple of days late. But it had been late   before. She wasn't letting it mean anything.

Callie pushed the thoughts aside and strove for calm indifference. "I thought we'd said all we had to say to each other."

"We're only just beginning."

Those four words blew any hope of calmness or indifference right out of   the water and froze her to the spot. Silence stretched between them.

"I can say what I need to out here if you like." Nick looked around the   reception, took in the unabashedly curious faces of Shannon, Dan and   Marc. "I thought, however, you'd prefer to have this conversation in   private."

Callie considered her options-it didn't take long. She gestured to her   open door. "Come through to my office." The invitation was made   grudgingly, but she had to get him away from Shannon.

More than once, Callie had lectured Shannon on the beauty of a committed   relationship. She didn't want the girl knowing that Callie hadn't been   able to live up to her own standards.

"Coffee?" Shannon asked, her gaze keen.

"That won't be necessary. I'm sure whatever Mr. Brunicadi wishes to   discuss won't take long." It went against the grain to be deliberately   inhospitable to a client, but Nick was the exception to the rule. She   needed him gone. His mere presence caused such a complicated slew of   emotions that she scarcely knew how to react-anger, defensiveness, guilt   and below it all a charged sensual awareness. She couldn't help noting   the strength in the clean line of his jaw, the breadth of his  shoulders.  She could still almost feel the clasp of his hand around  hers.

With a quiet click, she shut the door behind them, enclosing them both   in the suddenly too-small space of her office. Needing the physical   barrier, she moved to stand behind her desk and folded her arms across   her chest. "What do you want?"

He turned from his perusal of the awards and certificates hanging on her   wall, his expression unreadable. It had been bad enough a week ago,   when he'd been on her veranda; this was worse. Was it really as easy as   it seemed for him to put thoughts of what they'd shared out of his  mind?  Finally, he sat in one of the leather armchairs opposite her  desk,  crossing his long legs at the ankles, a picture of ease.

The only thing that bolstered her confidence was that, apart from that   one error of judgment, a too hasty dance floor decision, she had done   nothing wrong. Callie's hands went to her hips. "I take it you're here   to apologize for your groundless accusations." She faked a nonchalance   that she had yet to feel in his presence. "You must know by now that I'm   not trying to keep Jason in my life. In fact, I'll be dancing on my   desk for joy when I don't have to deal with him anymore." Nick raised   his eyebrows, but the silence stretched, and no apology was forthcoming,   so Callie continued. "If it's not that, and you're not here to tell me   Jason is ready to sell, which he would have told me himself, I need to   ask you to leave."