Baby for the Billionaire(69)

He moved closer, his leg pushing between hers, the harsh fabric of his jeans rough against her skin. But that was sexy, too.

Until Dylan mumbled in the cot behind her and she leapt away from Connor as if she’d been scalded.

Connor stood rigid. His eyes were wide and, for the first time since the night he’d come to tell her of Michael’s death, she recognized the emotion in his eyes.

Shock.

Her heart hammering, she balled her hands at her sides to stop them from reaching for him. “See what you made me do? That was monumentally stupid.”

He swallowed, and she fixed her gaze on his Adam’s apple, watched it bob up and down, avoiding his too-astute eyes. Hurriedly she added, “You irritated me.” And flicked her gaze up.

Then wished she hadn’t.

White-hot. That’s what his eyes were. Enough to incinerate her.

“I overreacted—and so did you.” Silence. “Don’t you agree?” More silence. “I don’t want to make love without it meaning anything,” she protested, more to convince herself than him, wishing she wasn’t having this wretched one-sided conversation with a man she simply didn’t understand.

“I’m not asking you to.” He sounded so reasonable. “I only asked you to marry me.”

Her heart sank. “So you’re proposing a marriage in name only? Absolutely no sex?” She risked a look at him. His expression was indecipherable.

“Do I understand you correctly?” He drew a deep, audible breath. “If we take sex out of the equation you’d marry me?”

“Maybe …” It was a croak of sound. But her body was urging more, more, more.

“This is no time for maybe, Victoria. Yes or no?”

They weren’t touching. Yet over the gap that separated them she could feel the heat of his body, the force of his power.

Victoria started to tremble. She was ready to say anything to stop the sizzle.

“Yes,” she sighed.





Nine


Connor discovered over the next few days that getting married solely for Dylan’s sake wasn’t what he wanted. He wasn’t that noble. He wanted more.

She was driving him crazy. Once or twice as she sashayed past he considered yanking her off her feet, into his lap, and repeating the experiment.

Their no-sex agreement had to be the most idiotic thing he’d ever done. Hell, she was going to wear his ring. That would brand her his for the world to see. Yet he wouldn’t be allowed to touch. Sooner or later something was going to have to give—and it would be Victoria. He was quite confident that he would achieve that. She would come around. He’d see to it because he sure as hell had no intention of sticking to their stupid pact.

In the meantime, he made up for it by looking. Surreptitiously, carefully and at every opportunity he got.

It was torture.

Several times each day he would call Victoria at work—ostensibly to talk about Dylan. But he found himself looking forward to those segments of time when her husky voice came over the line, especially when he managed to get her to laugh.

Lust had turned him into something pathetic.

It was a sign of how entangled he’d become with his new life that, when Iris came into his spacious corner office with his coffee and announced that she’d heard Dana and Paul were getting married, Connor felt one brief flare of resentment and then … nothing.

The lack of turmoil and emotion was liberating. He stood staring at Iris until she said, “Connor, are you okay?”

He gave his assistant an unabashed grin. “I’m better than okay—I’m great.”

She snorted. “Because Dana and Paul are getting married?”

“Yep.” His grin widened. “Makes me feel much better than I thought.”

A wave of relief crashed over him that there was no need for anger, or to exact further revenge. That phase of his life was over.

What he had now was so much better.

Iris straightened the papers on his desk into a neat pile. “There’s a rumor that Dana’s pregnant.”

Even that didn’t disturb him. He grinned at her over the top of the coffee mug. “I should’ve anticipated that. Poor Paul.”

“You had a lucky escape.”

“I certainly did.” Setting the mug down on a wooden coaster, he tipped his head sideways and studied Iris as she slit his correspondence with a letter opener. “You never indicated you didn’t like Dana.”

“Wasn’t my place—you seemed happy enough with her.”

His gaze paused on her pursed mouth. “You’re not the only one. Michael never liked her, either, nor did Brett.” His brother had been open in his reservations about Dana after their first meeting. Of course, Dana hadn’t cared for Brett either—she’d been relieved that he lived in London.

There was a scrape as Iris shredded the empty envelopes. “Dana was always good at her job, and she knew who to impress. But she’d clamber over anyone in her way to get what she wanted.” Iris turned back to face him.

Leaning back in his executive chair, Connor folded his arms behind his head. “It wasn’t easy for her. People are always harder on women who are successful in business.” He thought of Victoria. “Even me.” He couldn’t help wondering what Iris would make of Victoria.

“It had nothing to do with Dana’s successes, just the way she went about achieving them.” Disapproval came off Iris in waves. “And you shouldn’t be defending her.” With that, she bustled out of his office, pausing at the doorway to say, “Don’t forget you have a meeting at noon.”

Connor nodded, then swiveled his chair to look out the window at the knot of gum trees that flourished beside a pond. A pair of ungainly blue-and-black pukekos minced on orange webbed feet along the bank of the pond, picking for food.

His motherly assistant thought Dana had used him as a way to get what she’d wanted, but to be honest, he’d used Dana, too. He was starting to realize that what he liked about Dana was that she didn’t affect him—he could stay heart whole and devoted to work. He didn’t think about her all day long. He hadn’t felt the same compulsion to talk to her as he did with Victoria. Dana hadn’t been a constant distraction from his work. Sure, she’d been a very decorative diversion, and of course he’d gotten a kick out the covetous looks other men had given her. And she could be as feral as a sex-starved mink in bed.

Yet her infidelity still left a bitter taste.

But Michael had hit the nail on the head. It had been his pride—rather than his heart—that had been bleeding when she’d walked out.

He’d never thought he’d land himself in a similar position.

Yet Victoria was even sexier to him, and her beauty was more subtle but no less captivating … and he had a suspicion that Victoria could make him never want to go to work again.

And she was even smarter than Dana.

Just look how she’d gotten him to agree to a marriage without sex—only minutes after kissing him stupid. She’d reduced him to a quivering lump.

Masterly.

And he’d been the fool who’d agreed to it! Even though he was certain he’d be able to convince her otherwise. Given time.

As the pukekos disappeared into the reeds on the waterline, an inner voice whispered, Dana would never have done that. She’d have used sex as another weapon in her arsenal.

But then he couldn’t remember ever wanting, yearning, going mad with desire for Dana in quite the same way.…

Out of respect for Suzy and Michael it was decided the wedding would be a small one with no frills and flounces—and definitely no fairy-tale white dress.

The following night after they’d put Dylan to bed Connor came to the small sitting room upstairs that Victoria had claimed as her own, where he hadn’t invaded until now. He paused at the threshold, and she watched him survey the changes she’d made to the elegant cream-and-dull-gold décor. The addition of a wall hanging in muted colors that she’d brought from her town house. A large fern she’d called Audrey, which was draping enthusiastic fronds over the back of the couch where she sat holding a wineglass.

“I don’t want to disturb you,” he said at last.

Didn’t the man know by now that he always disturbed her? Even wearing only a T-shirt and black jeans he managed to make her pulse pick up.

Of course she’d never admit it.

“Would you like a glass of burgundy?” she asked, setting her glass down and reaching for a clean one from the butler’s tray on the side of the couch. “A client gave it to me—and it’s rather good.” Relaxing, too—which she needed now that the realization she and Connor were actually getting married was starting to sink in.

Connor looked taken aback for a moment, then nodded. “Just half a glass. I’m not staying long.”

Once she’d poured, he moved farther into the room. Taking the glass from her, he raised it to his nose before sniffing and saying, “Mmm … nice.” Then he glanced down at her. “I came to ask for a list of friends and family you’re inviting to the wedding. Iris—my PA—will send out invitations if you give me details. She’s a whiz.”

“No.”

That caused his eyebrows to leap to his hairline. “Aren’t you a little busy to be doing it yourself?”