Billion dollar baby bargain.txt

by Неизвестный

  need some money.”

  Ava frowned. “For what?”

  “Tomorrow. For shopping.”

  “If that’s your way of offering, then no, thank you.”

  “I can afford it.” He reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out his wallet and flipped it open. “Here.”

  When she remained still, he impatiently waved the card under her nose.

  She blinked then drew in a sharp breath. “Platinum Amex?”

  He shoved the card into her hand as the doors slid open.

  “Don’t get too excited.” He indicated she go first. “There’s a limit.”

  “I don’t need an allowance,” she said tightly. “I’m not some kept woman.”

  “I didn’t say you were.”

  She slapped the card to his chest as she walked past him, but he snared her arm, forcing her to stop. “Let

  me make this clear to you, Ava. After tomorrow, the public will know you’re my bride-to-be. And the

  first thing you’ll be judged on is your wardrobe.”

  She frowned and pulled free. “What’s happening tomorrow?”

  “I’m releasing our engagement announcement to the press. What?” he asked calmly as panic flushed the

  blood from her face. “The sooner we announce it, the less chance of a leak.”

  A soft melodic jangle permeated the warm apartment and with a shaking hand, Ava reached into her

  purse. Pulling out her mobile phone, she turned to the kitchen.

  “Hi, Jillian.” She tried for nonchalance but after she hung up from her aunt’s “just checking to see if

  you’re okay” call, she knew she hadn’t fooled either of them.

  From the sound of it, Cal was also engaged in a call in the living room. He may have given her privacy

  but he’d pointedly placed the offending credit card in the center of the breakfast bench. It sat there,

  glinting in the subtle mood lighting, teasing her with its shiny newness.

  She reached out, fingering the bumpy numbers. It wouldn’t just be small-town gossip this time—Cal’s

  announcement was sure to make national news. People would be talking, and not just about how she and

  Cal had met and who “the real Ava Reilly” was. They’d focus on her clothes, her hair, her figure.

  She rolled her eyes. Following fashionable trends wasn’t an option when she had a business to keep

  afloat. The clothes and makeup she did have were at least three years old. Sunscreen was about as close

  as she got to moisturiser.

  But now…the sudden and inexplicable desire to indulge, to splurge on something impractical and

  feminine, made her insides ache with longing. Many years ago—a lifetime ago—she’d given in to the

  frivolous call. When Grace was alive.

  “So you’ve changed your mind?”

  As if the card had bitten back, Ava snatched her hand away. Cal stood in the kitchen doorway, his jacket

  off, sleeves rolled up to reveal tanned, muscular arms. The glow from the track lighting barely brushed

  him, illuminating the golden hairs on his forearms, glinting across the angular face, throwing him half in

  shadow, half in light. With a sharp movement, he stuffed his hands in his pockets, patiently awaiting her

  answer as she stood there like a gawky teenager.

  The man was beautiful. Her mind emptied, tongue suddenly dry. As if sensing the small war waging in

  her head, his mouth tweaked.

  “Should I alert the media?” Cal said with deliberate nonchalance.

  “What?”

  He spread his hands wide, outlining an imaginary billboard. “‘Woman turns down all-expenses-paid

  shopping spree.’”

  Finally, a smile. Despite the brief pleasure that small action gave him, he noticed the sadness that

  accompanied it.

  “Once upon a time I would’ve jumped at the chance.” She shifted from foot to foot before reaching

  down to pull off her high heels. Two inches shorter, she seemed tiny, more vulnerable somehow. She

  barely met his chin.

  “Grace and I…” she paused, shook her head.

  Cal recalled her conversation with his mother. “Your sister.”

  “I thought you and Victor were deep in a business discussion.”

  “I have an uncanny ability to multitask.”

  Her tiny snort of laughter surprised them both and for one moment, the tension lifted.

  “Your sister died young,” he stated softly.

  Her smile dimmed. “She was nineteen.” She made to turn away, hesitated and instead fixed him with a

  steady look. “My mother died three years ago of cancer, my father had a heart attack seven months after

  that. It’s been just me and my aunt ever since.” She glanced away so quickly that Cal barely had time to

  distinguish any emotion in her expression. Vulnerability? Sadness? Her voice reflected neither with her

  next statement. “Don’t you already know everything about me?”

  “Not everything.” He knew her skin shivered when he kissed that sweet spot on her neck, the way she

  gasped when he nibbled her earlobe. He knew the way her eyes darkened to a stormy blue when she was

  all fired up about something, in the throes of passion. But suddenly that wasn’t enough.

  “I don’t make a habit of digging into people’s private lives,” he said firmly.

  The moment lengthened as Cal steadily held her gaze, until he shifted, taking a step closer and the air

  suddenly flared hot.

  “Why did you run?”

  He was far from touching distance but Ava’s whole body still vibrated with anticipation. She remained

  motionless, holding her breath. He couldn’t know how she’d regretted walking away that night,

  wondering if things would’ve turned out differently had she stayed.

  She decided on an offhand shrug. “To avoid an awkward morning?”

  “Really?”

  At his slow, dubious eyebrow raise, irritation flared. “Yes. Despite what you think of me, you were my

  first and only one-night stand. I thought you’d be relieved not having to deal with the morning after.”

  “You didn’t give me a choice,” he said softly.

  “Well, welcome to the club.”

  Ava knew she’d struck a nerve. Surprise flitted across his face before he swiftly smoothed it out. Slowly

  he crossed his arms, bringing the defined muscles in his shoulders, his biceps, into relief.

  Under his gaze bravado seeped out, only to end on a gasp when her belly fluttered. Her hand flew to her

  stomach.

  “What?” He was by her side in an instant, his hand covering hers in sudden shocking familiarity.

  She didn’t know what made her more breathless, the tiny life moving inside or Cal’s warm palm

  scorching her belly. When she looked up their eyes locked. And held.

  In those seconds, his eyes echoed sheer amazement until he dropped his hand and moved away. Yet the

  undeniable truth lingered, lengthened into a realisation she’d be a fool to ignore or misinterpret. Cal was

  emotionally involved in this baby. And in that flash of intimacy, she knew without hesitation that she

  wanted—ached—for him to kiss her.

  She dragged in a breath, rough shards of frustration, before stepping back. “It’s late. I should…”

  “Yes.”

  Still he just stood there, filling the doorway until she was forced to meet his eyes again.

  “Excuse me.”

  Through the haze of conflicting emotion Cal finally registered her questioning eyes. When he silently

  moved aside, she brushed past him, the warmth of her body drifting by on a wave of tantalizing perfume.

  Captivated by her gently swaying hips as s
he crossed the lounge room, his eyes lingered long after she

  disappeared into his spare room and shut the door with a decisive click.

  He cursed softly, still rooted to the spot. If reality mirrored fantasy, she’d be pulling him towards the

  bedroom, begging him to make love to her just about now. Instead, he was left with a raw taste in his

  mouth, a small fire burning a hole in his gut.

  With a growl, he stalked out the kitchen, through the living room and down the hall. When he reached

  his bedroom he began to unbutton his shirt, cursing under his breath when the buttons stuck and he

  ended up ripping one free.

  Ava Reilly was no innocent—she knew exactly what she was doing, from her gentle charming of his

  mother to the steady gaze she’d given Victor when they’d been introduced. But then this…this pure

  wonder would practically shine from deep within her and knock him for a six.

  Trust your first impressions, Cal, Victor had told him the first day he had started work at VP Tech.

  They’re there for a reason.

  Grudgingly he had to admit that over the years, Victor had been right on that one. Apart from making his

  mouth water, Ava had an air of charming, almost old-world innocence. A far cry from the decadent

  things they’d done weeks ago in his bed. Things he still wanted to do.

  What, a small voice rationalized, if she wasn’t pretending? What if their night together had been as mindblowing

  as he’d remembered?

  With a swift jerk he pulled his shirt free of his pants. All his ideas on how to prove—or disprove—his

  theory involved various stages of getting Ava naked. Something she’d no doubt object to, given her

  current frame of mind.

  Pity.

  Five

  A va blinked awake in the darkness, the unfamiliarity panicking her for one second before realization

  crashed in. She was in Sydney, in Cal’s apartment. Today she’d be his official wife-to-be.

  With a groan, she reached for her phone to check the time. Five-thirty. If she were home, she’d already

  be heading outside to watch the sunrise, coffee in hand.

  She flung off the sheets and shoved her feet into her sheepskin slippers. Just because she was suddenly

  living someone else’s life didn’t mean she should drop her early morning ritual. Yet when she opened

  the bedroom door into the darkened living room, surprise gave her pause.

  Where was the nausea? The morning sickness? She ran through a mental checklist. Aching breasts—to

  be expected. A mild twinge in her lower back—probably the strange bed. But her stomach? Nothing.

  Thank you, pregnancy gods. With a small sigh, she padded across the room into the kitchen, the watery

  aquarium’s blue glow sending shards of light across the apartment. After inspecting the cupboards, full

  of gleaming cookware and barely used crockery, she finally found the cups. She chose an elegant bone

  china teacup and saucer, decorated with tiny blue flowers and totally out of place in Cal’s bold

  apartment. With smooth efficiency, she turned on the water jug and finished her inspection of the

  kitchen while the water boiled.

  The state of the art coffee machine clicked on with a soft beep and her brows wrinkled. Coffee was out

  unless Cal used decaf…which she seriously doubted. She scowled at the shiny appliance as if it was the

  manufacturer’s fault her daily cup was suddenly off-limits.

  “It’s on a timer, not telepathy.”

  She whirled, picking out Cal’s large shape in the muted glow.

  “You’re up early,” she blurted out.

  “So are you.”

  When he stepped into the kitchen Ava swallowed. The sudden desire to smooth down his sleep-rumpled

  hair, stuck in spikes over his head, forced her fingers into a tight fist behind her back. She wanted to run

  her hands over that broad, cotton-clad chest, to see if the well-worn T-shirt felt as soft as it looked.

  Instead she turned back to the counter and busied herself with jiggling her caffeine-free tea bag furiously

  in the cup.

  “We country folk get up at the crack of dawn,” she said.

  “So do we corporate types.”

  She glanced up with a smile and to her surprise, Cal returned it. Surprise turned to relief as the tension

  lightened.

  She sniffed the air. “Is that butterscotch?”

  “Guilty,” he reached past her, way too close, to snag a cup from the cupboard above. The aroma of

  warm man mingled with coffee had her inhaling sharply. “Java Butterscotch, to be exact. I also have

  Hawaiian Mocha, Blueberry Morning and Cinnamon Hazelnut. I like the variety,” he added defensively

  at her amusement.

  “I bet you keep that Gloria Jean’s on the corner in business.”

  When he chuckled, something hot and intimate sent her body into its own little hum. Yet Ava didn’t

  have time to savour the warmth, the delicious anticipation, because following on its heels came a

  familiar well of nausea.

  No! With a quick swallow of her now-tasteless tea, she nodded to the patio. “I’m going to sit out on the

  balcony.”

  Cal watched her pad across his lounge room. Dressed in a neatly knotted, fluffy red robe and a pair of

  absurd slippers, her hair in curly disarray down her back, she couldn’t have turned him on more if she’d

  greeted him in black satin lingerie.

  Remembrance assailed his senses, the hint of floral scent innocent yet paradoxically seductive. He knew

  exactly how that hair felt between his fingers, across his skin, and couldn’t stop a small curse escaping

  as the tangle of memories sparked in his brain.

  With his coffee poured, he made his way to the balcony. Yet when he saw her profile, cup raised to her

  lips, something gave him pause.

  He must have made a sound, caught the corner of her vision. She whipped her head around, her

  shadowed eyes landing squarely on him at the exact moment the sun speared across the balcony. Glints

  of gold crowned her, a radiant halo for her soft lush features. But it was the expression in her eyes that

  sent shards of desire straight into his manhood.

  Her study of him was intensely personal. Arousing. He felt the burn of her gaze as if she’d run a slow

  hand over his body, leaving tiny flames in her wake. Her eyes roamed leisurely, first across his

  shoulders, then his chest. He remained frozen in her commanding grip, taking perverse enjoyment in her

  unabashed exploration, a hint of a smile kinking the corner of her mouth. Then her eyes dipped lower,

  much lower, and he instantly hardened.

  In a blink her eyes flew to his, full of stricken mortification, before she whipped her head back to the

  view.

  And damn, if he didn’t take that as a challenge.

  He slid the door open and the gentle warmth of the patio heater rushed him.

  Her nose twitched and she suddenly turned, eyeing his cup like it was a redback spider. “Can you…

  not…?”

  “Drink coffee?” He took a sip, smiling.

  She swallowed thickly. “The smell…I was fine a moment ago but now…”

  “Morning sickness?” His smile fell as she nodded, her eyes panicky as she took another convulsive

  swallow. Her vulnerability chased away the gentle teasing on his tongue. Swiftly he placed the cup on

  the floor behind him, then closed the patio doors on it.

  She took a ragged sigh. “Thanks. I’m a coffee drinker but apparently this baby hates it.”

  Cal automatically gla
nced to her waist, then back to her face. The soft morning light still bathed her,

  lingering on the tinge of shimmer in her curls. Seeing her this way, devoid of makeup and fancy clothes,

  a blush still evident on her cheeks, she truly was beautiful. Not like the over-sexual, half-dressed bodies

  the media portrayed as “perfect,” or the expensive, skinny socialites who frequented the few glittery

  events he’d reluctantly attended. No, Ava’s beauty was subtle and seductive, a hint of innocence in those

  blue eyes, combined with a lush mouth that tilted like a siren’s call at the edges.

  He remembered her smile, the way her throaty laugh had taken hold of his libido and squeezed.

  “What?” she asked curiously, breaking his dangerous train of thought.

  With ever-decreasing efficiency he reined himself in. “I’ll be home at seven with the papers for you to

  sign.”

  Had he just imagined her flinch? It had come out harsher than he’d intended but when she merely

  nodded in acknowledgement, he mentally shrugged it off.

  “Have a good time today, Ava,” he added softly before reopening the patio door, scooping up his cup

  and leaving her there.

  Wrestling his body into submission took longer than expected, but subdue it he did. When he finally left

  the apartment a half hour later, he’d dressed with a lot less care than he usually reserved for his morning

  ritual, aided by the tingling recollection of Ava’s perusal. The now-familiar irritation of being unable to

  switch off his thoughts put him in a bad mood for the rest of the day, flaring up whenever he was alone

  with only memories for company.

  Finally, at 7:00 p.m., after a long, frustrating day of meetings, product reports and several cryptic

  messages from Victor which he’d ignored, Cal stalked into his apartment with precious little patience

  left.

  A wall of delicious aromas slammed into him, stopping him dead. Garlic. He sniffed experimentally as

  his mouth began to water. Tomatoes, frying meat. He tossed his briefcase on the couch and walked into

  the kitchen.

  The sight of Ava, barefoot in jeans, sweater and an apron, humming a melody as she stirred something