Cinderella's Tycoon

If Susan hadn’t already felt faint, his sudden proximity would have done it. Cradled against his broad chest, she was bombarded by foreign sensations. There was his warmth, the steely strength of his body, the solid beat of his heart against her breast. She squeezed her eyes shut, awash in contradictory feelings. Part of her wanted him to put her down this instant. But another part, shameless and unfamiliar, had an awful desire to snuggle closer. Confused, she gave a grateful sigh as he leaned over and she felt the nubby surface of her couch against the backs of her legs.

Without a word, he sat beside her and forced her head toward her knees. “Breathe,” he ordered.

She nodded, doing as he said until the world quit spinning. “I’m sorry,” she murmured finally, shrugging off his hand and sitting upright. “I’m not usually a fainter. It’s just... I can’t seem to take it in...” Swallowing, she turned to look at him. “Are you sure?”

He nodded. “Positive. I just spent an hour with Margaret Richey. There’s no question. The child you’re carrying is mine.”

A dozen questions immediately popped into her mind. Like, why had the clinic told him before they’d told her? Wasn’t there some sort of rule that she had to be notified first? As far as that went, shouldn’t Mrs. Richey have come in person to tell her, instead of allowing Sterling to deliver the news?

Yet those things could all be answered later. Right now, the only question that mattered was the one she was most terrified to have answered. “Why—” she had to stop and clear her throat “—why are you here? What do you want?”

“I told you. We need to talk.”

As an answer, that was hardly illuminating. She considered him, trying to read his emotions and drawing a blank. Whatever he felt, he didn’t let it show on his face. He simply looked...remote. And very formidable. “I—I won’t make any claim on you,” she said slowly, wondering if that was at the heart of his reserve. “I mean, I know you have money, but this doesn’t really have anything to do with you. It was entirely my decision and I’m more than prepared to take full responsibility—”

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said, no. Biologically this child is half mine. Not only do I expect to take my share of the responsibility, but—” for the first time he hesitated, if only for a second “—I’m willing to take all the responsibility.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that if you’ll give me the child, I’ll see to it that it has everything it could possibly need.”

She could feel her eyes widen as his meaning sank in. She jumped to her feet. “No!” Agitation stripped away the last trace of her normal reserve. “I could never do that. This is my baby! I’ve waited and planned and dreamed about having it, and I’m not giving it up. Not to you or anybody!”

He stared stonily at her, then leaned back on the couch and crossed his arms. “All right. We’ll get married.”

“What?”

“We’ll get married,” he repeated. “It’s probably better, anyway. Kids ought to have two parents.”

She’d been right earlier. He was crazy. “Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t even know you!”

He climbed to his feet, once again towering over her. “Then it’s time you start. And what you’d better understand is, that’s my kid you’re carrying, most likely my son, and I’m not going to stand on the sidelines, with no say in his upbringing, while he spends most of his life either alone or with a baby-sitter while you struggle to support him. So you can either marry me—or I’ll sue you for custody. Your choice. Although—” he took a pointed look around, his gray eyes unreadable as he examined her minuscule living room with its worn furnishings “—I think it’s only fair to point out that you’d have a mighty slim chance of winning.”

Susan stared at him. It was clear from his implacable expression that he meant every word he said. Still, the whole idea was crazy. Marriage was meant to be the kind of loving, trusting relationship her parents had enjoyed, not an alternative to being sued, for heaven’s sake.

Still, he was right about one thing. In the best of all possible worlds, a child should have two parents to love it. Not that she agreed with his crazy proposal. She couldn’t possibly marry him. The whole idea was preposterous.

Yet his expression made it clear that he expected her to acquiesce. “I—I’ll need some time to think about it,” she hedged instead, trying to buy herself some time until she could come up with a better solution.

His eyes narrowed. “No. Nothing is going to change, and I don’t want people counting on their fingers when our child is born. It’s going to be touch and go as it is.”

“But what if something happens? It’s still early in the pregnancy yet. Something could go wrong...”

“We’ll deal with that if it happens.”

“Oh, but—”

“Look, I’m not exactly wild about this myself.” For half a second, a bleak look came over his face. Then his expression hardened. “But it is the best solution. I don’t know what you’ve heard about me, but I’m not some sort of wife beater or anything. I promise I’ll take good care of you and the baby. You won’t have to worry about anything.”

“I’m sure that’s true, but still...”

“Yes or no?” he said intractably.

“I...”

“Choose.”

Oh! What should she do? Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to envision marriage to Sterling—and failed. She had no trouble, however, picturing the two of them in court. In her mind, she could see him surrounded by high-priced lawyers as some faceless judge banged a gavel down and awarded him custody of her baby. “I...I—yes,” she whispered.

“Good.” He was suddenly brusque. “How does tomorrow sound to you?”

Her eyes popped open. “For what?”

“The ceremony. Judge Lester’s a friend of mine. I’m sure he’ll be glad to do it.”

“But I have to work!”

“Call in and tell them you quit,” he commanded. “I’ve got more than enough money for the both of us, and in your condition you shouldn’t be on your feet anyway.”

She gazed at him in shock, stunned by how casually he was rearranging her entire life. “But—but—I can’t!”

“You have family you need to call? Just tell me who it is, and I’ll have them flown in.”

“No,” she said faintly. “There’s nobody.”

He crossed his arms. “Then what’s the holdup?”

“It’s...” She tried desperately to think of an answer other than it’s too soon, pretty certain it would get her nowhere. “I don’t have anything to wear,” she said lamely.

“Huh.” Without another word, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a money clip, peeled off some bills and thrust them at her. “Here.”

“Oh; no. I can’t—”

“Take it.” His gaze touched briefly on her dress, then came back to her face. “Go out and buy yourself something pretty.”

“Oh, but—”

“Unless something changes, I’ll come by tomorrow at twelve forty-five to pick you up.”

She thought of all the things she had to do. She’d have to call her landlord, her boss and the clinic. Luckily the house had come furnished, but the refrigerator and the cupboards would still have to be cleaned out. She’d have to call to turn off her utilities. And find time to shop for a new dress. And, of course she’d have to pack...

She fought off a fresh wave of exhaustion. Taken all together, it was close to overwhelming. She was going to need every minute she had. “No. Please. I’ll—I’ll meet you there.”

“Okay,” he said reluctantly. “One o’clock, the county courthouse. The judge’s chambers are on the second floor.” He searched her face. He must have seen her uncertainty, because he said abruptly, “Give me your word you’ll be there, Susan.”

She stared back at him, stung as she saw the distrust in his eyes. “I’ll be there. I promise.”

“All right.” With a stiff nod, he settled his hat on his head and strode toward the door, where he smacked the screen open with his palm and was gone.

Susan stared dazedly after him. Oh, dear. It appeared she was getting married.

Whether she wanted to or not.

Two

She wasn’t coming.

Sterling paced restlessly along the courthouse hallway. Although the air was cool thanks to the air-conditioning, he’d managed to work up a sweat. As a result, he’d loosened his tie and tossed his navy suit coat over a corridor chair a while ago. Now, stripped down to his shirtsleeves and vest, he glanced at his wristwatch for what felt like the umpteenth time, then stalked over to glare out the bank of windows that overlooked the building’s main entrance.

It was 1:10 and there wasn’t a redhead in sight.

“Mr. Churchill?”

He swiveled around, recognizing the voice of Judge Lester’s clerk. “Yes?”

The young man hesitated. “I don’t mean to worry you, but I thought I’d better mention that His Honor is due back in court at two. If your fiancée is delayed much longer, I’m afraid we’ll have to reschedule.”

“No problem. She should be here any minute.”

Apparently he sounded more confident than he felt, because the clerk readily nodded. “Good. But as soon as she arrives, if you could come straight inside, we’ll get started.”

“Fine.” The instant the younger man disappeared back through the door into the judge’s chambers, Sterling whipped around to once more scan the sidewalk down below.

Nothing. He swore under his breath. Susan Wilkins wasn’t coming and it was his own damn fault. He never should have agreed to let her get to the courthouse on her own. For that matter, he never should have let her out of his sight. His instinct—the one that had lifted him out of a childhood of near-poverty and made him a millionaire before he turned thirty—had urged him to close this deal while he could. He should have listened to it, should have heeded the inner voice of experience that had warned him that speed was of the essence.

Because, while there was no way for Ms. Wilkins to know that he would never take a child away from its mother, by now she might have figured out that a court was far more likely to order him to pay support than grant him custody.

Then again, why would she settle for half the pie when she could have it all? She’d made it clear yesterday that she knew he had money. And, though he knew his attorney was going to have a coronary when he found out, Sterling had deliberately chosen not to ask for a prenup so that by marrying him, she’d have a direct claim on his wealth—a fact he’d counted on to work in his favor.

He grimaced. It appeared he’d thought wrong. It appeared that if he had the brains God gave a Hereford, he would have called the judge from her dingy little living room yesterday and taken care of everything then and there.

Of course, he had been practically out on his feet. And there was no guarantee that the judge would’ve been available. Or that he could have arranged things on such short notice. Hell, he’d had to pull strings to make this happen today.

Besides, Susan had given him her word she’d be here—

Aw, come on, Churchill, get real. Teresa promised to love, honor and cherish you for the rest of your life and you know how that turned out. When are you going to learn?

His face tightened at the reminder of his ex-wife. Bracing his hands against the windowsill, he hunched his shoulders and stared blindly out into the bright September sun, remembering the day she’d packed up and left him. He’d spent most of their marriage trying to make up to her for the child they couldn’t have. But it hadn’t been until that winter afternoon four years ago that he’d finally accepted that no matter how hard he tried, he’d never be enough to fill the void in her life. It had been a bitter pill to swallow, and he’d vowed, as he stood there and watched her drive away, that he would never again open himself up to such heartbreak.

So it wasn’t as if he wanted to get married. If it weren’t for the child, there wasn’t a tinker’s chance in hell he’d even consider it. But there was a child on the way. And not only did he want it with every fiber of his being, but he was damned if he was going to let it grow up the way he had, with no father and a mother who was too busy putting food on the table to bother with anything else.

A flurry of motion caught his attention. Glancing to his left, Sterling watched a woman hurriedly cross the street at the far corner and head in his direction. For a second his heart sped up as he saw that she had red hair, but it only took him an instant to realize it wasn’t his intended.

For one thing, instead of a dowdy auburn bun, this woman had a rich sorrel mane streaked with fiery strands of copper and chestnut that tumbled in sexy disarray past her slender shoulders.

For another, she was a real head-turner as she dashed along in a stylish lavender dress that skimmed her delicately curved body and strappy high heels that made her long, slim legs appear to go on forever.

He felt an unwanted tightening in his groin. In the next instant, he told himself firmly he was glad the woman wasn’t Susan, who, if yesterday was any indication, seemed to favor clothes that would make her a contender in a Frump of the Month competition.

Not that she was repulsive or anything. She had nice enough features. And good teeth. And what he’d been able to see of her body—arms, neck, ankles and feet—had been okay. Yet she was also totally forgettable, the sort of plain, unassuming female who would fade quietly into any background.

And Sterling was grateful. Hell, he was more than grateful, he was relieved. Having to get married was bad enough. While he meant every word he’d said when he told Susan he’d take good care of her, the last thing he wanted was to have feelings for her. When it came to women, he was done with any sort of tender emotions.

“Mr. Churchill?”

It was the clerk again. With an inner sigh, he turned. “What?”

“I really am afraid that we’re running out of time. We need to either get started or—”

Down the hall, the bell on the elevator pinged and the door slid open. Sterling glanced over, his attention momentarily arrested as the woman from the street stepped out. Clutching a small silver bag in delicate fingers, she took a hurried look around, her hair swinging around her like a fiery cloak.

Damned if something about her didn’t seem faintly familiar, he thought uneasily. He shifted his gaze back to the court clerk, determined to focus on what the man was saying—

“Sterling?”

That voice. It couldn’t be... He turned, his whole body going tight with disbelief.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” the vision in lavender said breathlessly, hurrying toward him. “Usually I’m right on time, but things took longer than they said at the salon, and then I couldn’t get a cab, and I walked as fast as I could, but I’m not used to wearing heels...” Coming to a halt before him, she bit her full lower lip, looking uncertain as their gazes met.

He stared at her in shock. “Susan?” Thanks to a subtle application of makeup, the same features that yesterday had seemed faded and nondescript, today were anything but Her dark brown eyes seemed huge, while the mouth that she was nervously nibbling the lipstick off appeared achingly erotic.

Judge Lester’s clerk clapped his hands together, his expression relieved. “You must be Miss Wilkins.” He gave Susan an approving once-over as she stood there looking both sexy and classy, a jacket that matched her dress draped stylishly over one slim, milky arm. “I’m so glad you made it. As I was just telling Mr. Churchill, we need to get started. If you’d both follow me, please?” He marched importantly toward the door.

Susan glanced uncertainly after him, then turned back to Sterling. “I truly am sorry I’m late. I hope you’re not angry.”

“Me? Angry? Hell, no.” He reached over, snagged his coat off the chair and yanked it on. “I just figured you weren’t coming.”

“What?” Her eyes widened in surprise. “But I promised.”

For some reason, the discovery that her word meant something to her was almost as unsettling as her incredible—and totally unwelcome—transformation. “Forget it. At least you’re here now. Shall we go in?”

“Oh, but—that is, if you could give me just one second—” Her movements hurried, she handed him her ridiculously little purse, then quickly slipped on her jacket, flipped her hair free of the collar and smoothed it back with her fingers.

A faint whiff of perfume enveloped him at her movement. The scent was as soft and evocative as she looked. To his horror, it was all he could do not to lean forward, press his lips to some silky patch of her and see if she tasted as good as she looked. Wondering what the hell was wrong with him, he impatiently yanked the knot on his tie into place—and nearly strangled himself.

“There.” Oblivious to his rapidly deteriorating mood, she carefully retrieved her purse from his rigid hands, took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “I’m ready.”

It’s about time. He took a step, then stopped. Reaching over he snatched his hat and the small gardenia bouquet he’d brought off the chair, thrusting the latter at her. “Here. These are for you.”

She looked at him in surprise, then slowly took the flowers and lifted them to her face. “Oh, Sterling, they’re lovely,” she breathed, her face lighting up in a way that was anything but plain. “Thank you.”

“It’s no big deal,” he said stiffly, motioning her to precede him down the hall. She gazed up at him, her lips parting as if she were going to say something, and then she seemed to lose her nerve. Squaring her shoulders, she turned and started toward the judge’s chambers.

Stubbornly resisting an unacceptable urge to check out the sway of her slender hips, Sterling took a fortifying breath and followed, his face grim.

Just for a second, he couldn’t remember why this had seemed like such a good idea ten minutes ago.

“...and so, by the power vested in me by the great state of Texas, I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

His official duties fulfilled, Judge Lester rocked back on his heels, clapped Sterling on the back with one beefy hand and said jovially, “You know what that means, doncha, boy? That means you can finally pucker up and kiss your pretty little bride.” The jovial judge winked conspiratorially at Susan, then shifted his gaze to her husband. “Go on, now. This is no time to be shy.” Eyes twinkling, he waited expectantly.

Gathering her courage, Susan snuck an apprehensive glance at Sterling. Just as she feared, his good-looking face held a complete lack of enthusiasm for the judge’s suggestion.

Her spirits sank. For all his insistence that she marry him, he’d spent the past twenty minutes acting like the reluctant groom at a shotgun wedding. Curt and unsmiling, he’d suffered through introductions to the court reporter who was acting as a witness along with the clerk, and had only reluctantly made small talk with the judge. And though he’d said his vows in a clear voice without hesitation, he’d done it with all the warmth of a man reciting an arrest warrant.

It hadn’t exactly been the wedding of her dreams, either, Susan acknowledged wistfully. But then, it wasn’t supposed to be, she reminded herself, absently twisting the gleaming gold band on her ring finger. She was doing this for the baby. Hadn’t she been awake all night, considering her options? And hadn’t she decided that she wanted more for her child than a life on the run or a childhood shaped by a series of court battles?

Yes, absolutely. What’s more, there were genuine benefits to marrying Sterling. As he’d pointed out, two parents were better than one. Not only would her child have two people to love it, but it would also have someone else to depend on should anything happen to her.

She also realized that Sterling’s wealth was a plus. While she didn’t care about the money for herself, she realized he could provide numerous advantages for their child that she couldn’t—as much as it humbled her to admit it. And she couldn’t deny that she was thrilled at the prospect of actually getting to stay home and be a full-time mother.

So she supposed it also shouldn’t matter how Sterling felt about her.

But it did.

While she knew it was probably rather foolish of her, deep down she’d cherished the hope that he would be pleased she’d made an effort to look nice for him.

Of course, she hadn’t intended to do anything quite this drastic, she acknowledged, self-consciously pressing her lipsticked lips together. When she’d hesitantly walked into Cachet first thing this morning, she’d simply hoped to find something on sale that didn’t look too bad on her. She’d certainly never intended to confide to the elegant saleslady that she was getting married later that day. Or confess that her intended was everything she was not—attractive, important, self-confident—and that she wished, for his sake, that she was just a little bit pretty. And she’d most definitely never expected the saleslady to take her statement as a personal challenge.

But the woman had. Before Susan had known it, the saleslady had whisked her into a dressing room, ordered her to strip down to her undies, then studied her with a critical eye. Murmuring to herself about delicate lines, fabulous coloring and absolutely no fashion sense, she’d disappeared, then returned with an armful of beautiful clothing. In no time at all, Susan had found herself the owner of the lilac sheath she’d admired only the day before, a matching coat, some slacks, two pair of shorts, a trio of incredibly expensive little T-shirts—and some racy new lingerie that she hadn’t had the nerve to admit she probably wouldn’t be needing.

She’d also found herself escorted next door to the beauty salon. Refusing to take no for an answer, the saleslady—whom by then Susan had been calling Jeannette—had consulted with the stylist, explained what she wanted done and voilà! Two hours later, Susan had emerged several hundred dollars poorer, looking quite unlike her previous self.

She had to admit that she’d been quietly thrilled with her new look as she’d hurried along Royal’s streets toward the courthouse. At least now Sterling won’t have to be ashamed of me, she’d told herself as she recalled the pointedly reserved way he’d looked at her the previous day.

Not that she’d done it for him. She hadn’t. She’d done it for herself, because she was starting a whole new chapter in her life and she wanted to put her best foot forward.

And it was good that she felt the way she did, she thought ruefully, since Sterling hadn’t even seemed to notice her changed appearance.

“Susan?”

“Yes?” She glanced up, then froze as Sterling reached out, cupped her shoulders in his hands and lowered his head. Even though his intention was obvious, she was still unprepared for the foreign feel of his lips as they brushed against her cheek. Startled, she gave a little jerk of surprise and tipped her head.

Just like that they were mouth-to-mouth.

Susan drew in her breath. The last person to kiss her had been a fellow student her first year of college. He’d been no more than a boy, and it was a toss-up which of them had been more nervous and inexperienced.

But there was nothing boyish or inexperienced about her new husband. On the contrary, his lips were warm and firm, his hands were strong and steady, and his scent—the same clean, masculine one that had made her tremble on her front porch yesterday—was heavenly. The second she relaxed, she found that being kissed...by him...like this...was really quite lovely.

With an instinct she didn’t question, she raised her arms and slid her hands around Sterling’s neck. Her fingertips slid over the fine fabric of his suit coat, encountered the smooth cotton of his crisp white collar, then finally found the soft thickness of his hair. She hesitantly stroked it, startled as the kiss became fractionally more urgent. Intrigued, she caressed him again, feeling a shameless little thrill when he pulled her closer.

Oh, my. Who would have thought that just kissing could cause this explosion of warmth to spread through her? Or that somebody who -acted as forbidding as Sterling would turn out to be such a terrific kisser?