Having the Billionaire's Baby(12)

"I expected nothing less from you."

Surely she was mistaken in thinking the glint in his eyes might be admiration.



"But when I do something, I do it properly."

And suddenly she was remembering how thoroughly and well he had   loved-no, not loved, pleasured-her the night of Melody's wedding.

Callie glanced at the clutch of reports in his hands. "Let's get this   over with." Stepping away from his latent intensity, she led the way to   the villa's cool kitchen, acutely aware of his presence behind her, of   his scrutiny.

"Nice place."

"I rent it." She'd been here nearly a year, and loved the villa's   spacious Old-World charm. It was far enough out of the city that   visitors didn't often call. She liked that about it too.

"Who from?" The interest in his voice, in his eyes, seemed genuine, and she had to guard against it.

"A neighbor. Who, sadly, wants to sell it in six months." She glanced   back, saw that Nick had stopped in front of a painting. It was one of   her own, abstract, completed entirely in varying shades of blue and   green.

"It reminds me of the sea."

Callie paused, then told herself it was no big deal. Art spoke to different people in different ways.

"Of the water at Cathedral Cove," he added thoughtfully as he studied   it. "I visited an American colleague holidaying in that area last   month."

A shiver passed through her.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

She shook her head and started walking again. "Nothing."

"Did you do it?" His voice was nonchalant.

"Yes." Given the state of her shirt, there was no point trying to hide   the fact that she painted. But her art was personal, not something she   liked to share. It was her version of therapy, colors expressing her   moods and emotions. Six months ago she'd had a ceremonial burning of the   awful, somber ones she had painted after her breakup with Jason.  Today,  fiery oranges and reds had dominated.

She pulled open the refrigerator. "Can I get you a drink?"                       
       
           



       

When he didn't answer she looked around the fridge door, to see him   studying another of her paintings. Slowly, he turned toward her. "No,   thanks."

And if she was going to be polite he could jolly well do the same. She   pulled a jug of water from the fridge. "If you're going to be my   business partner then we at least need to be amicable in each other's   company."

"This is amicable." He dropped the reports onto the breakfast bar.

Resisting the urge to snort, she tilted her head to the side and regarded him. "All the veiled threats were amicable?"

A faint smile lifted his lips. "It's all in the interpretation. Solitude or loneliness, threat or opportunity."

Solitude or loneliness. She knew only too well where that had come from,   and she didn't want him going down that track. "Please don't remind me   of that night. I try never to think of it." She wasn't particularly   successful, but she really did try.

He regarded her thoughtfully. "Whereas I take great pleasure in remembering it."

Callie's throat ran dry. Just looking at him, the green of his eyes, the   smile that lurked there, the small V of skin revealed by the few  undone  buttons … . "You shouldn't. We're business partners."



"Don't you sometimes remember it? Perhaps when you're supposed to be   thinking of something else entirely, you find yourself instead   remembering how we-"

"No. Never." She had to cut him off, because there was something about   him, something enthralling, that slipped through her self-possession,   her determination. He was more relaxed today, and that made him all the   more dangerous.

He met her gaze and knew she was lying.

She looked away and poured ice water into two tall glasses. "Thank you," he said with a hint of irony.

She gritted her teeth. "I need to change my shirt. You might like to   wait on the veranda." She had planned on them sitting at her dining   table, but she suddenly didn't want to be in a confined space with him.

He shook his head. "I'm fine here."

"And it might be construed as ill-mannered to stay in someone's kitchen when quite clearly they don't want you there."

"The veranda you say?" The small smile stretched, revealing the satisfaction he got from unsettling her.

"It's shaded and cool."

"And presumably I should take my drink?"

"Yes."

Still smiling, he gathered up the reports and strolled back the way   they'd come. Stalling for time, Callie washed her hands and changed her   shirt, vacillating over her decision. The clothes and makeup she wore   during the week were her armor, and if ever she'd needed armor it was   now. But on the other hand, she didn't want Nick reading insecurity or a   desire to impress him into her choice. In the end she opted for a   T-shirt and her favorite jeans.



All the while her thoughts were on Nick, outside, waiting. And his smile. Did he know how it weakened her?

She shook her head. This was a simple business meeting; nothing she   couldn't handle. It was on her territory, it was about her business, and   she would be able to answer any questions he had. Though it would help   if she had some idea what those questions might be.

And it would help even more if she didn't still have that other   worry-the one about her now undeniably late period-hanging over her   head. She'd gone so far as to buy a pregnancy test kit. It sat unopened   in her bathroom cabinet. But as long as it remained unopened she could   believe-hope-she was safe.

Nick stood on the veranda and surveyed the rolling hills that surrounded   Callie's place, so much greener than those back in Australia. He saw   again the neighboring vineyard, the grass around the vines still too   long. The only sound was the rustling of leaves in a nearby stand of   poplar trees. Some of the tension he hadn't realized he was carrying   seeped from his shoulders. He could see why she liked it here.

At the sound of the door opening he turned. Clutching her glass of water   as tightly as she had her champagne the night of the wedding, Callie   stepped onto the veranda. Her dark curls were loose about her face,   jeans, faded with washing, molded to the flare of her hips, a white   T-shirt skimmed oh so gently over her curves, its neckline at the base   of her throat.

He'd never before met anyone who could make demure look so utterly sexy.

Business. This was about business, he reminded himself forcefully. He was good at compartmentalizing.

Usually.



She met his gaze calmly, but her throat betrayed her with small, nervous   swallows. Nick smiled. Complacent. If the business at hand happened to   give him a little advantage over Calypso Jamieson, helped her see that   he wasn't someone to be trifled with, then so much the better.                       
       
           



       

Yet so much about her resonated with him. The work she'd done on the   Cypress Rise account had captured the essence of the winery. What he had   been able to glean about the way she ran her business struck a chord  of  familiarity, the paintings that hung in her home spoke to him, the   depths in her chocolate-colored eyes haunted him. Even that smudge of   red she'd missed beneath her jaw affected him, made him want to reach   out and touch it. Touch her. As though it was his right.

He couldn't shake the feeling that stirred whenever he saw her, a feeling of connection.

Acting on that feeling had caused this mess in the first place.

He could make her regret walking out on him, but knew that the distance   she wanted to keep between them was for the best. She wasn't the type  of  woman he got involved with. Contrary to what he'd thought the night  of  the wedding, she was long-term, the sort who made deep and permanent   connections. Many of her clients had been with her from day one. And  she  was a nester. It was obvious in the way she'd used personal touches  to  turn this rented villa into more of a home than the designer  apartment  he'd owned for six years.

Nick had believed both Jason's and Callie's assurances that there was   nothing left between them. But he didn't quite trust his own need to   believe. That was one of the reasons he'd bought the share of her   business. There was logic in having that insurance policy, even though   the part of him that insisted on honesty told him there was more than   just that to his decision.