Millionaire's Instant Baby. Allison LeighЧитать онлайн книгу.
wasn’t a tie that made him feel choked. “Is someone picking you up this afternoon to take you home?”
She folded her arms across the top of the sheet and sighed faintly. “You’re not going to go away, are you.”
It hadn’t been a question. He answered, anyway. “Emma, this is too important for me to go away.” How many times had he removed an obstacle from his path simply because of his ability to outlast, outthink, outmaneuver?
Only this time, the obstacle in Kyle’s path had smudgy shadows beneath her eyes and slender shoulders he was certain were being held straight through sheer grit. “But I can see you’re exhausted. So I’ll come back later when you’re released and get you settled at home. We can discuss this more then.”
“There is nothing to discuss. Besides, I have my car here and I’ll be getting myself and my son home just fine.”
“Your car is here? Did someone drop it off for you?” He pulled his hands from his pockets and wrapped them around the metal rail at the foot of her bed. Kyle had specifically asked Dennis Reid if there was a man in the picture with Emma Valentine. Reid had assured him that Emma was totally on her own. The last thing Kyle needed was some love-struck fool bumbling onto the scene.
“I drove it here,” she said, surprising him into forgetting the issue of her single status.
“While you were in labor?”
“Yes,” she said with exaggerated patience. “And I’ll drive it home again this afternoon. I assure you I have the proper baby seat and everything, so stop frowning.”
“You have no one you could have called on?” If not the man responsible for her pregnancy, then a friend. A sibling. Someone.
Her lips firmed. “Whether I do or not is hardly your business, now is it?”
Kyle would have liked to debate that point, considering he was determined this woman would be his make-believe wife. But there was a loud rattle out in the corridor and the door swished open to reveal a young man in pristine white bearing a breakfast tray.
The orderly smiled genially at them, set the tray on a rolling cart and slid it neatly against the side of Emma’s bed, turning it so the tray hung over her lap. Then he lifted the cover from the food and left.
As Kyle peered at the bowl of cooked cereal, the puny foil-covered plastic cup of orange juice and a half-burned piece of toast, he thought of the fluffy omelet, crisp bacon and fragrant coffee Baxter had served him that morning. He’d barely taken time to appreciate the food or the way it had been served—on china at the wrought-iron glass-topped table on his patio.
“Are you hungry, Mr. Montgomery?”
“No, why?”
“You’re staring at my breakfast like you haven’t seen food in a month.” She didn’t look at him as she peeled back the foil cover of the juice.
“I haven’t seen a breakfast that looks like that in more than a month,” he muttered. “I’ll bring you back something more…appealing.”
She took a healthy swallow of the juice, then picked up a spoon which she plunged into the cereal. “I like hot cereal, Mr. Montgomery. Some people do, you know.” Her tone slowed like rich rolling drops of syrup. “Even rich folks, I’m told.”
He smiled, genuinely amused. “You think I’m a snob.”
Her hesitation was barely noticeable. “I can’t imagine what you mean.”
His amusement grew. “Neatly avoided and you didn’t have to lie.” Seeing the corners of her mouth twitch as if she was holding back a reluctant smile of her own, he decided it was a good time to retreat. On a high note, so to speak. “I’ll leave you to enjoy your oats and whey,” he said. “We’ll be talking again.”
“I don’t think so. Our paths are in different neighborhoods. I doubt they’ll cross again.”
He shrugged easily and headed toward the door. She didn’t know him yet, so she could have no idea how wrong she was. He stopped and turned. “Get some sleep after you eat,” he suggested. “It’ll be a busy afternoon taking your son home. What did you say his name was?”
She tilted her head. “I didn’t. Which you know very well.”
“He is a good-looking boy.”
Her eyes softened like rich melting chocolate. “Thank you. He is beautiful.”
“And his name? You’ve already given him one, I’m sure.” He smiled faintly. “I’ll bet you had his name picked out when you were only halfway through your pregnancy.” She seemed like the type of woman who’d have cherished every moment she carried her child. Very much the way his sister had.
“Four months along,” she admitted.
“And?”
She moistened her lips. Hesitated. “My son’s name is Chandler.”
Kyle absorbed that. “Well. Good name.”
“I named him after a very dear old friend from my hometown,” she said evenly. “A name I chose months ago, so wipe that smug look off your face.”
“Not smug at all, Emma. It’s just another indication that I’ve chosen the right woman for my wife.”
“Your pretend wife,” she corrected.
“That’s what I said.”
“Not exactly.”
“You like to have the last word, don’t you?”
“I’m a woman, Mr. Montgomery.”
“I did notice that, Miss Valentine.” He watched her cheeks blossom with pink. “And while I am but a humble man—” he ignored her soft snort “—I’m a determined one. Our paths will cross again, Emma. And again. Until I have your agreement that becoming my pretend wife benefits everyone.”
Her mouth moved, but no words emerged. He smiled and stepped out into the hall. “I’ll see you and Chandler later.”
The door swished closed, but he heard her honeyed voice in the moment just before it did. “Good gravy.”
He pushed his hands into his pockets and thought about the woman on the other side. She was perfect for his needs. He just needed to remember that his needs were strictly business. That her curvy body, from slender neck to trim ankles, was off-limits.
All he needed was a pretend wife. He’d keep his hands to himself. He’d keep his thoughts strictly on sewing up every last detail of acquiring Payton Cummings’s company.
So that when the day arrived that he dismantled every facet of that damned company, he’d have the personal satisfaction of knowing there wasn’t one thing Payton Cummings, Sr., could do about it.
Kyle let out a long breath and went in search of a flower shop.
Chapter Two
“Okay, Emma, this one is what we’ll use to file for Chandler’s birth certificate. Fill in the blanks, sign and leave it in the folder with the others. The state will send you the certificate once it’s recorded. You can leave the folder with the nurse when you’re released. Okay?”
Emma nodded and waited until the brisk I’m-from-Records-honey woman left. Then Emma looked down at the form and nibbled the inside of her lip. She’d been completing and signing forms for the past ten minutes. Financial forms, affirming that she didn’t have medical insurance and including a payment agreement that would take every cent of the pay she earned from her part-time teaching job for the next few years. Medical-information forms regarding the aftermath of childbirth. Even forms to purchase sets of newborn photos.
She’d ordered one eight-by-ten and six wallet-size ones simply because she hadn’t