Baby for the Billionaire(54)

Connor had gone to Michael’s house, gotten drunk, and blurted it all out. Dumb.

“The whole world shifted on its axis in the three weeks I was gone.” Connor raked his hands through his hair. It needed a cut. The mundane thought steadied him. “Came back to find my life in uproar and you planning marriage.” He shook his head. “Crazy.”

“Not that crazy. I’ve know Suzy a while, even though we only started dating about a month ago.”

“A month?” Connor raised his brows. “After two years I didn’t know what kind of treachery Dana was capable of. You should’ve taken more time.”

“A month. A year. Two years. It’s not going to make a difference to how I feel about Suzy.”

“So what makes you so sure Suzy isn’t after a lifelong meal ticket?”

A chuckle filled the car. “Mate, I’m not the billionaire here. I don’t wear thousand-dollar suits—” Michael gave Connor’s Armani a mocking inspection “—drive a Maserati, or live in a marble mansion.”

“I don’t live there anymore.”

This week’s showdown came back to haunt Connor. Paul had already moved into his house with Dana. But he’d wring every cent that he could from the pair of them in exchange for the mansion that Dana had craved … and the share of Harper-North that Connor had walked away from. They weren’t going to get off scott-free.

“Sorry.” The laughter faded from Michael’s eyes. “But trust me, Suzy’s not marrying me for money. She’s a teacher, just like me, so our incomes are pretty equal.”

Dana had been trying to wheedle an engagement ring out of Connor for ages. His thoughts came to a grinding halt. Had Suzy tricked Michael into a proposal with the oldest trick in the book?

“What about children?” Connor prodded. Dana had begged for a child. But Connor had resisted. He hadn’t wanted marriage—which he suspected was the real reason for Dana’s desperate desire for a child. A child would’ve been a mistake. They were both too busy for kids, he’d told her.

Michael turned the key in the ignition. His jaw had firmed and his hands gripped the steering wheel.

“I’m not asking if this woman’s already pregnant,” Connor lied hastily as the motor took. “Just wondering if she views you as a father figure for any children she has.” A high school guidance counselor, Michael would make the perfect mark for a solo mother wanting financial and emotional support.

“She doesn’t have any.” The reply was clipped.

“That’s a relief. I was worried she might be a desperate divorcée.” Connor paused as they rolled down a narrow lane lined with clipped hedges that hid the church from view.

“She’s divorced but she’s not desperate.” Michael’s jaw jutted out, a sign of the stubborn streak that usually remained hidden beneath his affable, calm exterior. “You’ll like Suzy, Connor—if you let yourself. There’s no catch.”

Connor stared at Michael’s profile, aware he wasn’t getting anywhere. The strange notion that his orderly life had spun out of control increased. He shook his head. “You’re not listening. There’s always a catch.”

“Of course I’m listening.”

“But?” Something about the set of Michael’s jaw told Connor this was one of the rare times that none of his arguments were going to succeed.

In the years he’d been playing squash with Michael he’d come to value the calm, unconditional friendship they’d forged. Connor often offered Michael financial advice, and only twice had Michael disregarded it. The first time Michael had lost thousands on a development that went belly up. The second time Connor had advised him to steer clear of a derelict Edwardian cottage on a busy road. Michael had wanted to use an unexpected legacy from a great-aunt as a deposit. Connor had warned him the restoration would devour money faster than a hungry loan shark.

But Michael had bought the place anyway and spent every weekend working on it. Connor had taken to dropping by on Sunday afternoons to lend Michael a hand—much to Dana’s disgust—and the manual labor involved in stripping old paintwork and restoring the cottage had proved extremely rewarding. As the house took shape Connor finally admitted he’d been wrong. Despite the exorbitant amount of time and money it consumed, Michael’s home was special.

It had reminded him of the days when he and Paul had first started out, fired by dreams of preserving as many forgotten buildings as they could.

When had they lost that idealism? When had it all become about the next million?

Yet just because Michael had been right about that old place of his didn’t mean this madly rushed marriage would work out, Connor decided as they waited for a break in the traffic.

“But … Suzy’s nothing like Dana.”

Connor bristled at the mention of Dana’s name. “I never said she was.”

Michael threw him a disbelieving look. “Don’t let what Dana did embitter you. I think you’re well rid of her. I never liked her, you know. You deserve someone better.”

“Right now I’m hardly in the mood to play dating games,” Connor growled.

“You’ll get over it.” Michael nosed the Toyota onto the road that ran past the front of the church. “We’ll find someone to kiss your broken heart better at the wedding tomorrow.”

Connor gave him a baleful glare. “My heart isn’t broken.”

“No,” Michael agreed. “It’s your pride that’s battered.”

“Thanks, mate, I really needed to hear that!”

Michael was still laughing as they pulled up in front of the church gate where the bride and her maid of honor waited.

Despite Suzy’s blonde prettiness, Connor found his gaze drawn to her friend. A patina of reserve clung to her. There was not a hint of feminine flounce in the straight black skirt, black stockings or the tailored white shirt. Yet when she moved toward the car, she carried herself with an easy, swinging grace that contrasted sharply with her coolly composed features.

“Best therapy right now would be another woman. Victoria—”

“No.” Connor looked away from the termagant and directed a stony stare at Michael. “I definitely don’t need another hard-boiled career woman with her eye on the main chance. So don’t try any matchmaking tonight or you’ll be looking for a new best man for your wedding tomorrow.”





Two


Connor barely noticed the radiant beauty of the stained-glass window backlit by the afternoon sun. Or how the kaleidoscopic light fell onto the faces of bride and groom, giving them an otherworldly quality. Instead he stood stiffly next to her behind the bridal pair as they exchanged vows, Michael’s voice deep and serious, Suzy sounding much breathier.

His anger at her had driven away his annoyance that Michael had dared to discuss Connor’s abortive personal affairs with Suzy. He couldn’t bear the thought of being pitied by anyone.

Although he could hardly accuse her of pitying him.

Unwillingly Connor slanted a sideways look at the maid of honor. He’d planned to ignore her today. She’d said little at dinner last night. Despite his threats to Michael, his and Suzy’s matchmaking efforts had been irritatingly obvious, and Connor had no intention of giving the argumentative woman any encouragement. The next woman he dated would be pure entertainment … no strings and plenty of hot sex. Not another high-flyer married to her career.

Her pallor last night had suggested she’d be more prone to headaches than hot sex. So had her attitude—she’d excused herself just after eleven, pleading exhaustion, but when he’d offered her a ride home she’d given him a look that suggested she’d rather eat slugs, and insisted on calling a taxi.

He had to admit she looked much better today. Suzy’s doing, no doubt. He almost hadn’t recognized her at the church door. Only her height—she was tall, her head coming up to his chin—her slender body and those wary hazel eyes had identified her.

Yet she was impossible to ignore.

Yesterday’s rumpled white shirt and black sacklike skirt had given way to an ultrafeminine dress of some pale, gauzy fabric that turned what he could see of her skin to the delicious luminescence of pearl. She’d done something different with her hair, too, twisting the dark strands up so it exposed the soft, pale skin of her neck, and a couple of loose tendrils brushed the slope of her shoulders.

And all that bare, feminine skin tempted him to touch, to stroke.

What the hell was he thinking? One week without a woman to call his own and even this plain, uptight female was starting to look attractive.

Despite Michael’s advice, the last thing he needed in his life was a woman. Even if he did, this one didn’t qualify—she was way too intense. And, as Suzy’s best friend, too complicated.

A hush fell over the church and he turned his head to watch Michael slip a plain gold band onto Suzy’s finger. There was a moment where the world seemed to hold its breath, and Michael looked positively bewitched.

Connor let out the breath he was holding.

He should’ve advised Michael on the wedding band. Women liked diamonds. Dana would’ve demanded a humdinger—for investment purposes of course. Michael should at least have had a row of diamonds channel set.