Unfinished Business: Bought: One Night, One Marriage / Always the Bridesmaid / Confessions of a Millionaire's Mistress

Her hand lifted, palm open, fast as a snake, and she very, very nearly hit him.

But his hand caught her wrist. Held it hard. Satisfaction ran through him. He’d finally succeeded in stopping her from carrying out one of her ill-conceived urges. He hadn’t had much luck up till now—she’d got everything she wanted from him. Well, now she was going to get a little bonus she hadn’t planned for.

‘What happened to your manners, Cally?’ he drawled, masking the molten mess of emotion inside.

‘Leave,’ she muttered.

‘No. You’re stuck with me now.’ His jaw clamped. ‘And I mean well and truly shackled.’ He felt her body tense to break point. Right now he wanted to break her. Docile and compliant—that would do.

‘You don’t trust me, do you?’ She changed tack.

‘Not a jot. And wasn’t I right not to? I’ve never met anyone so calculating in my life.’

‘You won’t believe that I didn’t plan this?’

‘Nope.’

Cally let the tension go out of her body, slackening her arm. He let it go immediately. Maybe she could pacify him. ‘I’m sorry, Blake.’

‘Sure.’ Granite incarnate.

‘Look, I’m grateful to you for wanting to be here for me. I am. But I don’t want or need anything from you.’

‘I’m not here for you, Cally. I’m here for my baby.’

She swallowed feeling stupidly hurt by the bald statement. ‘You were the one who said it was all a bit of fun. We weren’t talking marriage or babies, remember?’

‘We are now.’

She stared at him. Saw the hardness in his eyes. The same hardness that had been there when he’d said it that first night. A definite no-go area. There was definitely history behind him, some reason why he’d never intended to marry. Probably a past hurt. Although she couldn’t imagine him letting anyone get close enough to hurt him. He was all about surface fun and frivolity—naughty weekends that led to nothing.

But there wasn’t nothing now. He was all steel and determination and she had to fight.

‘You don’t want me, Blake. You don’t even want this baby. This is about you wanting control of this situation. You’re never out of control, are you?’

‘Stop and use your brain for just a moment, Cally,’ he answered softly. ‘I think you’ll find you already know the answer to that question.’

Their eyes met and she saw the dark desire, heard the echo of his hoarse cry as he climaxed inside her, the feel of the flood of his life force in her. She closed her eyes as a ripple of remembered ecstasy flowed from her belly out, making her want to … making her want him to …

Stop.

She didn’t want him taking over like this—didn’t want him taking advantage of her sexual attraction to him.

‘This is my baby,’ she whispered.

‘It’s my baby too. That’s my flesh and blood you’re carrying.’ He wasn’t going to give an inch.

‘OK.’ She’d still try compromise. ‘We can work out visitation rights. You can see the baby any time you like.’ She could do that. Surely he’d lose interest after a while?

‘No child of mine is growing up thinking he wasn’t wanted by his father. I am this child’s father and I will be there for her or him every step of the way. So get used to me being around, Cally, because I am going to be right beside you every minute of this pregnancy and beyond.’

Cally bit hard on the flesh of her inner cheek as she registered the passion, the deep conviction behind his words. Not good. Was that what had happened to him? He hadn’t been wanted by his father? Her heart ached and absurdly the urge to embrace him flashed through her. She knew what it was like not to be wanted.

‘You can be an involved dad—’

‘I am living under the same roof as this baby!’ he overrode her furiously. ‘Either you live under it with me or I have custody and I will fight to the death for that—don’t think for a second I won’t.’ Every muscle in his body was hard, every word shot out. ‘And trust me on this, Cally. When I fight, I win.’

She stared at the stranger in her room. She’d never glimpsed this side of him in that sex-drenched weekend. Then he’d been all about lust and laughter and unbelievable thrills.

She deepened her analysis—suddenly remembering the way he’d won the bet. This was a man happy to take risks to ensure he got what he wanted.

Calculated. Merciless. Driven.

No wonder his company was so successful. No wonder he had the reputation for being such a shark in the business arena. Single-minded, he was able to do whatever it took to ensure he got the result he required.

He was right. She had picked the wrong guy.

Desperately she searched for another way to appeal to him. ‘We don’t have to marry to get what we both want.’

‘What I want, Cally, is for my child to grow up as part of a family.’

That stopped her. Family? From the man who never talked marriage and babies? Suddenly he was talking family?

Anger resurged in her. She knew all about family. About betrayal and loss and how much it hurt when the security you were supposed to get never eventuated. Her parents had married for this exact reason—because her mother had got pregnant. And that marriage had failed—her mother walking out on them less than two years later and leaving her father in one hell of an ugly mess.

She paced towards him. ‘How can you honestly marry me? How can you promise to love me? How can you make that vow if you’re always so honest? If you always “deliver on your promises”?’ Scathingly she quoted him and then braced for the answer.

It was a while coming. When he did speak, it was quietly, deliberately and woundingly truthful. ‘You’re carrying my flesh and blood. You are the mother of my child. I will always honour you. I will always respect you.’

Components of love perhaps—but certainly not the whole recipe. He would never love her in that true sense. He didn’t quite say it, but he didn’t have to. She understood he had no other depth of feeling for her and, while it struck at her own dangerously soft heart, at least now she knew her child would have the benefit of two adoring parents. Emotion threatened to topple her, tears burning the backs of her eyes. ‘This baby means that much to you?’

‘Yes.’ He looked at her quizzically. ‘Is that such a surprise, Cally? Or is it only women who are allowed a strong parental urge?’

‘No.’ She shook her head. She knew damn well some women didn’t have any kind of a parental urge at all—her mother for one. But her father? Her father had loved her and cared for her and right this minute she missed him more than ever. She couldn’t deny her baby the possibility of a relationship as close as that with its own father. That realisation struck deep into her, and that moment she knew her fate was sealed. ‘Of course not.’

But while her father had been capable of great love, he’d been capable of deep hurt too. He’d been broken-hearted by her mother—by her blithe betrayal and her rejection of both him and their child. Cally was more her father’s daughter than her mother’s—she already knew how much she could hurt; Luc had proven that. Since then she’d tried to keep her heart hidden and protected. Unfortunately a little part had crept out under Blake’s playful caresses those few weeks ago. She knew she couldn’t handle the kind of humiliation and hurt that would come if she ended up falling for him while he felt nothing for her other than a kind of gratitude. She had to keep some kind of distance. Surely she had to say no to him.

But how could she? He’d win; he’d always win. He’d warned her just now and she knew to believe him. And the difference between her and Blake and the situation of her parents was that both she and Blake wanted this baby. Whereas her mother hadn’t, her mother had wanted money and a name, not a baby to have to care for.

Blake was making it clear he wanted to care for their child. He was determined to be there for it every step of the way—as her father had been there for her. How could she deny her child that?

Cally hid the internal quiver. She was trapped. So much of her didn’t want a false marriage, but she couldn’t rob her baby of its right to two loving parents.

She’d got a little more than she’d paid for on their wager, but the result was priceless. She’d sell everything to keep her child—her body, her heart, her soul.

Blake studied his bride-to-be and couldn’t decide what he wanted more—to shake her or to kiss her. Fired-up fury ran through his veins and he tried to ice it up. He’d been taken for a ride and he didn’t like it. But he was back in the driver’s seat and there he’d stay—in charge of the situation. He wouldn’t let her take the wheel again. They’d marry—a.s.a.p. and then he’d have her there right under his nose.

The sudden thought of Cally warming his bed night after night stirred his blood more. Then came the image of her lush, curvy body growing to bear the burden of his child—her head bent over a baby as she nursed it. The protective instinct rose all powerful. Masculine aggression flowed through his veins.

He would fight like the devil to keep his child, and its mother, safe from harm. He would fight her if she tried to block him, and he was quite happy to fight dirty.

He looked at the anger and uncertainty in her eyes—the passion that made the brown melt and mix with golden flecks. He saw the new bloom of colour in cheeks that had been so pale when he’d first arrived. He stared at her sulky mouth as it parted with her fast, short breaths and felt the pull in his groin. There was one way he could get her to say yes. One way he could get her to scream it.

But desire fogged his brain as well and he needed to keep focused. He’d be better to keep her out of his bed until she was there willingly—utterly willingly and for as long as he wanted. If he stayed in control now, he’d be able to retain the advantage. And he needed to do that until he had her firmly tethered to him.

When Paola had got pregnant he’d been powerless to do anything about it. He was not powerless now. And he’d keep it that way.

Cally had used him but at least she wanted the child. And now she’d got him in the bargain. A little more than she’d banked on, but he knew they could swing it to their advantage. They actually had a lot in common. Not least a sexual drive that matched nicely. Once they were through these negotiations they could have a lot of fun together. He decided to throw the thought into the fire. Test her reaction.

‘We deal together pretty well, Cally. You please me. I’m pretty sure I can please you. We can definitely work this out.’

Her breathing hitched again. ‘You think I’m going to sleep with you again?’

‘I know I want to sleep with you. I’m pretty sure you do too.’ He’d kiss her now just to prove it. Hell, he wanted to kiss her hard.

‘Why would I want to have sex with you when you’re forcing me into marriage?’

‘Don’t be so melodramatic, Cally. This isn’t a forced marriage or anything like it. What we have is a deal. A partnership.’

‘One that doesn’t include sex.’

He shrugged, inwardly smiling at the heightened colour in her cheeks. ‘You can say when it will be but, let me assure you, it will be.’

She opened her mouth and he knew she was about to make the ultimate protestation. He stopped her by laying his finger across her way-too-kissable lips.

‘Necrophilia’s not my thing. I believe your body will be very much alive and willing.’

Her teeth snapped on empty air.

He was right about this being a deal. That was how to handle it—as a business proposition—albeit unconventional. He could concede her a partnership—eighty-twenty with him holding the majority stake. They both had good business sense. They could make this work. And be satisfied. Very satisfied.

He looked across at her and could see her mentally hunting for a weapon—something, anything to make him withdraw. She was out of luck because nothing she could say would sway him.

Her eyes turned bitter as defeat approached. ‘I can’t be with someone who’ll be unfaithful.’

Black anger blinded him for a moment. God, she could be a bitch. How little she knew him. Well, he grimaced, she had a lifetime to get to know him and how he meant it when he said he was honest. He very nearly swore at her some more, but his jaw clamped when he spotted the vulnerability in her eyes. She could say what she liked, but her eyes always told him the real story. Right now this was one angry woman who was just that little bit scared—that little bit hurt. That little bit got to him. He wanted her to be in his keeping, but he didn’t want her hurt or afraid.

He took a deep breath. ‘I have never been with more than one woman at a time. And I never will. When I promise to be faithful to you, rest assured, I will be.’

Something flashed in her eyes and he fancied it was disbelief. Fine. He’d prove it. He had plenty of time to. Anger came surging back as he thought of something so distasteful every muscle in his body clenched. ‘And I totally expect the same from you.’ He thought he knew why the idea was so abhorrent. ‘I will not have my child exposed to infidelity or have you parade a string of unsuitable boyfriends before it.’

Unsuitable boyfriends?

Suddenly Cally was the one who was angry. ‘I don’t cheat.’ She forced the words at him.

‘Good. Keep it that way.’

She opened her mouth. Shut it again. And concentrated hard on keeping her grip, only just restraining the urge to hit him—an urge she’d only ever had once in her life before, about five minutes ago.

She watched as he too tried to keep his cool. The silence was thick as frustration and sheer rage were mirrored in each other’s eyes. And the worst of it was that the primary source of Cally’s anger was that she still wanted him. His closeness, his presence had her yearning for him. It was that ‘conquering ferocious man’ thing again. The place between her thighs was all softness and wet. She wanted to take his hardness deep inside and squeeze the tension from both of them. He was so appallingly attractive—even now. She wanted to rid herself of her extreme physical need by rubbing against him in an extremely physical way. Her breasts felt heavy, her nipples so hard it was almost painful. She pressed the tops of her thighs together trying to get rid of some of the energy by clamping the muscles, stopping the urge to rock her hips forward.

And he knew. The green in his eyes glowed as relentlessly he stared at her. The tension zinged along the invisible cord pulling them together.

‘Very alive. Very willing,’ he murmured.

She had to suppress it, this almost insane urge to sleep with him. The drive to make him lose control and surrender to her—because she knew it wouldn’t really be him surrendering, it would be her. And how she wanted it—the weight of him as he shuddered in her arms, filling her completely, driving against her, into her—hot, sweaty, hard sex over and over.

No way, no way, no way. He thought she’d tricked him and now he was railroading her into marrying him. She could not, would not sleep with him. Mind over matter.

‘I think it’s time you left.’ Shaking and low, her voice was almost inaudible.

‘And it’s time you thought through your options. There’s only one, you know. I’ll be back, Cally.’ He swung back and for a second she thought he was going to kiss her. Either that or commit some act of violence. He did neither. Instead he spoke, rough and commanding. ‘Take care.’

CHAPTER NINE

BLAKE was back first thing. Demanding Cally find her birth certificate. Unable to muster a hint of defiance so early in the morning when her stomach had her feeling as if she were on a small dinghy in a wildly pitching sea, she simply turned and started walking. He followed her to the small office area, watched as she took her certificate from the filing cabinet.

He watched with a wry smile. ‘I knew you’d have your papers in good order.’

She stared back humourlessly.

His smile disappeared. ‘I’ll drop this in to the register office today with the other documents. We marry a month tomorrow.’

She put her hands on her hips and tried to stare him out. ‘You don’t want to stop and think about this at all?’

He looked at her as if she were stupid. ‘I’ve done nothing but.’

Cally spent the next few weeks alternately ignoring the situation, and then examining her options in depth. OK, so she was pregnant—frankly that was amazing. The doctor had told her to rest, to try not to worry or stress. She looked around her office. She certainly didn’t need any more stress—her job provided more than enough. She didn’t have the reserves for a sustained battle against Blake.

She had to admit the way he wanted this baby touched her. They wanted the same outcome. They could get through this. A partnership, he’d called it. And maybe that could work. OK, she had to make it work and so she was not going to mess it up with lustful thoughts. For her health, and that of the baby, it was easier to say yes to him. No more arguments. But no more sex either. The situation didn’t need to get any more complicated.

Panic flashed through her. Please, let the baby be OK—it was such a miracle. She was almost afraid to believe it was real. She’d do anything for her baby to be OK.

She blanked out those deeply lodged doubts and refocused on what she should do. Time and time again she faced the fact that she couldn’t deny her baby the opportunity of having two parents who loved it and who would make whatever sacrifices necessary to provide it with security and love. She wanted her baby to have the kind of relationship with its father that she’d had with hers. She wanted the closeness, for it to feel the comfort she had. Her father had loved her, protected her and cared for her—and she had been crushed when he’d died. And then her mother had let her down again and again. Intuitively she knew Blake would never let his child down.

She couldn’t let her child miss out on building a relationship with him. What if something happened to her—what if she died too soon as her father had? If she didn’t give her child the opportunity of knowing and loving its father, she would have failed as its mother—especially when its father wanted to be involved so much. Her baby deserved both of them. She had to try to make it work. And Blake was determined to step up to the plate; there was no denying that. He might not love her, but he would love his child. His child deserved no less, and she couldn’t stand in the way.

Their marriage didn’t have to be the road-crash that her parents’ had been—and if she kept it platonic, then the less risk of ruin there would be. They could live together—a business deal for them that would mean love for their child. Surely she could master the desire she still felt for him—to give all three of them the best chance of living together peacefully. She had to extinguish the fire between them, so that it wouldn’t have the opportunity to burn the whole arrangement down. He’d admitted this wasn’t a love match and she needed to lose any secret dreams of romance and happy ever after.

Besides, right now, for someone who was supposedly her fiancé, he was amazingly invisible. He hadn’t been to see her once since coming to get her papers. Well, she wasn’t going to go out of her way to see him. She was still half hoping he’d forget about the whole mess—wasn’t she?

He didn’t forget. Although he didn’t show up, he rang, without fail, twice a day—eleven a.m.—she figured it was morning–tea time, and then at night at eight. He was so regular she figured he had an alarm set. Hell, he’d probably programmed his mobile to dial her automatically.

After a few weeks she was sick of it—the twice-daily phone calls that lasted less than a few minutes. He was only interested in how she was physically and what she’d eaten. If it weren’t for the baby there would be no contact and even though this was something she already knew, boy, it rankled. She struggled to keep her reactions to him businesslike.

At precisely eight p.m. her phone rang. She answered immediately and before he could even get the ‘hello’ in she spoke in brisk, bored tones.

‘Yes, I had a good day. No, I wasn’t sick. Yes, I had a rest in the afternoon. For dinner I had stir-fried beef with Asian greens and rice, washed down with a glass of orange juice, which will help aid the absorption of iron from the meat and veg. I followed that with some fresh fruit salad with Greek-style yoghurt, therefore covering all major food groups so you can rest assured the baby is getting adequate nutrition. Yes, I’m about to go to bed. I am going to read for a while but I’ll be sure not to stay up too late. I’ll let you know how I slept and what I had for breakfast when you call at the usual time in the morning. Goodnight.’

She didn’t wait for a response, knowing she’d neatly summarised everything he wanted to know. It was all about her health—and the baby’s. She slammed the phone back onto the receiver, totally irritated.

Fortunately, she had all the paperwork ever generated by her company to work through and—largely—keep her mind off a) worrying about her baby and b) worrying about where Blake was—and with whom—and how she could work her way through this impossible situation.

She’d decided to get everything up to date, knowing the end was nigh for her involvement in the company. While it had been small it had been OK, but with success had come expansion and now it was too big for her to manage alone—especially with her child coming. And she wanted to hand it over completely rather than work with someone else as boss. With her time then freed, she’d explore some of her other ideas.

So during the long daylight hours she went through box after box, file after file, and made sure everything was just right. She compiled lists of contacts and wrote up a guide about the daily processes so that someone could walk in, read it and pick up where she’d left off. If she was going to walk away from Cally’s Cuisine, she needed it to be a clean break.

Eleven o’clock the next morning, on the floor in the midst of a pile of papers, she tensed. But her phone sat silent. She wandered over to her desk and stared at it, waiting for it to light up with an incoming call.

Five past eleven—still silent.

Ten past eleven—nada.

Quarter past … twenty past … twenty-five past.

Had she finally got rid of him with her smart-alec spiel last night? For the next two hours she couldn’t focus on her work at all—instead she tried to quell the anxiety that something was wrong. Finally her mobile rang. She glanced at the screen. It was Blake. She expelled the biggest breath, then toughened up. She was busy. She let it ring. Two seconds later it rang again. And then a third time—four, five, six. At that point she switched it to mute and got back to her organising. She only had a couple of last boxes to go through. She climbed up onto her chair, reaching up to the top shelf of her bookcase. She heard the door behind her opening and figured it was Mel. She was utterly unprepared for the loud shout.

‘What the hell are you doing?’

She spun on the chair, overbalanced and fell down onto the floor, only just landing on her feet with a wobble and wild waving of her arms. Then she looked up and in a nanosecond registered the tall, muscled man with the blazing eyes and knew that, so far, she was failing in her attempt to get over the lust.

Irritated, she frowned at his glare and her own fear, heart beating hard against her ribs. ‘Tidying up my paperwork.’

‘You shouldn’t be standing up there, for heaven’s sake. What if you’d landed badly just then?’

‘I only fell because you gave me such a fright barging in here shouting,’ she retorted, a little over-defensive because she knew he was right and she had given herself more than a bit of a fright. She launched straight on the offensive. ‘Are we still getting married in a few days or are you over that moment of madness?’

‘Not madness, Cally—our getting married is a supremely rational decision.’

‘I’m amazed you even recognised me, it’s been that long since you saw me.’