The Magnate's Baby Promise / Having The Billionaire's Baby. Sandra HyattЧитать онлайн книгу.
if she’d just imagined that night in Sydney two months ago. Those same eyes had creased with serious concentration as they’d shared hot, wet kisses in the privacy of his Shangri-La Hotel penthouse suite. Flared with hunger as he’d slipped her dress from her shoulders—
She slammed the door on those memories, barely managing a croak. “Cal.”
“Ava.” Cal’s voice, a slow-burning rasp that had turned her on so quickly, so completely, was the same, but little else was. His face was a study in frozen control, eyes reflecting only an impersonal, razor-sharp study as he remained still, somehow dwarfing her kitchen even from the relative safety of the doorway.
She was alone with Cal Prescott. Again.
The air thickened, heavy with expectation. A warm throb started up between her legs as she swallowed a single desperate groan.
“What…” She croaked then cleared her throat. “What are you doing here?”
His lip curled but he said nothing, a broad, tense statue intent on letting the moment swirl and grow. She steeled herself as his eyes flickered over her in thorough scrutiny, gathering up her dignity with a smoothing of her wayward hair. Yet his eyes followed those fluttery movements until she firmly jammed her hands in her back pockets.
He snorted, a sound so full of contempt that Ava took a cautious step backwards.
“Are you pregnant with my child?”
Ava grabbed the edge of the kitchen counter, reeling from the blow. How could he know? She’d barely had time to get used to it herself. She’d driven into Parkes for an over-the-counter test, then followed up at a free clinic. She’d told no one, not even Aunt Jillian.
She opened her mouth but nothing came out. Like an idiot she just stood there, blinking in shock.
“Who…how..?” She finally managed.
“Do not play the innocent, Ava.” His eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening imperceptibly. “Now answer me.”
The subtle threat behind his silky words, the fury reflected in every tightened muscle, was all too clear. Ava felt her cheeks flush and just like that, she snapped.
“Do you think I planned this? I didn’t even know who you were until after I—” she paused.
“Ran away?” He finished, his eyes way too perceptive.
She crossed her arms, refusing to let him see he’d struck a nerve. Yet her mind raced a million miles an hour until something finally clicked. “That’s why you’re here. You think I want money from you.” Bile rose in her throat, acrid and burning. “Get out of my kitchen,” she ground out.
“I’m not going anywhere. Is the baby mine?”
For one heartbeat, she seriously considered lying, but just as quickly rejected it. Apart from the fact she was a terrible liar, she wouldn’t. Not about something this important. So with fear of the unknown fluttering in her belly, she slowly nodded. “Yes, Cal. It’s yours.”
He paused. “A paternity test will prove it.”
“Yes,” she said firmly. “It will.”
His cold mask cracked, morphing into an expression so raw that she had to take a step back from the intensity.
He strode to her, the distance between them evaporating into an excruciating invasion of her comfort zone. He was Cal Prescott, and he was there, right there and amazingly, the urge to touch him, to smell him, thundered through her senses. She wanted to melt right into his very bones until she couldn’t tell where she finished and he started.
Anger poured off him, slamming into her, breaking through her thoughts. Then with a soft curse he abruptly whirled, shoving a hand through his hair, leaving short, tufted peaks in its wake. Hair that emphasised his ruthlessly angular face and framed those rich brown eyes to perfection. It was a face so achingly distant, one that screamed control and power in every muscle, every line.
“What do you want?” He demanded now, pinning her with sharp intensity.
Instinctively she placed a hand over her belly, which only succeeded in drawing his attention. Abruptly she shoved her hands back in her jean pockets. “From you? Nothing.”
His gaze narrowed. “Don’t lie to me. Not now.”
“I’m not lying! I didn’t even know I was pregnant until a week ago.”
“So that’s the way you’re going to play it.” When he crossed his arms, utterly convinced of her guilt, her frustration ratcheted up.
“I don’t care what you think,” she hissed back. “It’s none of your business!”
He stilled, staring at her, while all around them there was silence, as if the earth itself was awaiting his comeback with bated breath.
Then he smiled. The sheer triumph in that one simple action sent a chilling wave over her skin. It was the smile of a man used to getting his own way, a man who made thousands of million-dollar deals and steamrolled over his detractors. It was a smile that told her he’d won.
Won what?
“You being pregnant with my child is none of my business?” he said now, arching one derisive brow up. “On the contrary. I’ve given this a lot of thought. That child needs a father. We’ll get married.”
Deep below the surface, the bombshell exploded, sending shock waves through Ava’s insides. Oblivious to the aftermath, Cal flipped open a sleek black mobile phone and dialled. “I’ve already applied for a wedding licence and my solicitor will finalise the prenup. I dislike large engagement parties so we’ll skip that, of course. But I have booked dinner at Tetsuya’s with my parents tomorrow night, so—”
Ava finally found her voice. “What are you doing?”
“Hmm?”
“Are you crazy?”
“What?” When he put his hand over the mouthpiece and glared at her like she was some sort of annoying irritation, Ava saw red.
“You can’t force me to marry you!” She jammed her hands on her hips and shouted the last word, anger surging up to scorch her throat.
Slowly, Cal hung up, forcing restraint into every muscle of his body. Her hands fisted on her hips, hips that curved into the worn denim and came this close to being indecent. His eyes travelled upwards, past the ratty shirt that skimmed her waist, the rolled-up sleeves over tanned forearms, to the low neckline that revealed a smooth expanse of throat.
He finally fixed on her face, a face he’d seen in his dreams, deep in the throes of passion. Her silken black hair was half up, half down, the remnants of a ponytail feathering her jaw. A stubborn jaw that was now rigid with fury.
It was the offer of a lifetime, marrying into the Prescott wealth. He may have preempted her blackmail attempt but she’d still be well compensated. What the hell was she ticked off about? Thrown, he glanced at her mouth.
It did him in, seeing that lush mouth again. Gentle creases around her lips denoted a lifetime in the sun, but all he could think about was the softness of that flesh when it had teased and tempted him. How she’d placed hot, searing kisses across his chest, trailed her tongue over his belly before—
With a silent curse, he scowled, which only seemed to anger her.
“I am not marrying you.” She enunciated the words as if he was missing a few brain cells.
He scowled. “Why not?”
Her eyes rounded in incredulity. “Because for one, you don’t tell someone you’re marrying them, you ask them. Second, we don’t even know each other. And third, I don’t want to marry you.”
“I know you need money to save this place. I’m making you an offer.” When she remained silent, he turned the screw