The Magnate’s Baby Promise / Having the Billionaire's Baby: The Magnate’s Baby Promise / Having the Billionaire's Baby

“You don’t know what I want.” Fury flickered, working his jaw. “You walked into my life, spent the night, then walked right out again.”

“So this is your way of getting back at me?”

“This is not about you. It’s about a child.” His eyes dropped to her belly, then up again, his expression unreadable. “My child.”

He effectively ended their conversation with a flick of his hand, a white business card between his two fingers. When she didn’t take it he slammed it down on the counter. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Almost as if he couldn’t stand to remain in her presence a second longer, he turned and stalked out the door.

Chapter Two

Ava was still standing in the kitchen, Cal’s card clutched in her cold fingers, when her Aunt Jillian walked in with a handful of grocery bags, a warm smile on her weathered face. “Ava, darling, I thought we could have chicken for—”

“Cal Prescott was just here.”

Jillian put the bags on the table. “The man you met in Sydney?”

“The same.”

Jillian opened the fridge and shoved a block of cheese inside. “Really? Is he interested in staying at Jindalee?”

Ava swallowed. Even though she’d given Jillian the sanitised version, her aunt was a perceptive woman. “Not exactly. Apparently he thinks I’m trying to blackmail him—and with this place teetering on the verge, I can’t say I blame him.”

Jillian whirled, her lined face a mask of shock. “Oh, my. That’s not good.”

Ava sank into a kitchen chair and put her face in her hands. “I don’t believe this. And now he…” She sighed. “Jillian, I have to tell you something. Sit down.”

Jillian kept right on putting away the groceries. “If it’s about you being pregnant, I already guessed.”

Lord, did the whole world know? Ava’s jaw sagged until she snapped it shut with a click. “How? When?”

“You can’t hide a sudden craving for cheese-and-pickle sandwiches. Plus,” she gently reached out and smoothed Ava’s hair, “your hair went curly. Your grandma and I were exactly the same. It’s a Reilly thing.” Jillian quickly enveloped her in a hug. “Darling, are you okay with this?”

“Yes.” With a relieved sigh, Ava let herself sink into the embrace even as her head spun with the last hour’s events. “You’re not upset I’m not married?”

“It’s not the Middle Ages, darling. And I’m not your father,” she added pointedly.

Ava just squeezed Jillian harder. “Cal thinks I did it on purpose,” she muffled against the woman’s soft shoulder. When Jillian pulled back, Ava avoided her aunt’s eyes, unable to face the questions there. “And now he’s demanding we get married.”

Jillian went back to unpacking. “That’s very chivalrous of him, especially in this day and age.”

“No, it’s not! I can’t even begin to list the things wrong with this—we’re complete strangers, we live separate lives, have careers, not to mention what the town would say—”

“Oh, my giddy aunt!” Jillian slammed a can of tomatoes down on the counter. “Your business is about to go under, you’re pregnant by a rich, attractive, single man—a man who wants to do the right thing and marry you—and you’re worried about what a bunch of old busybodies would say?”

Ava stared at her, stunned. Her Aunt Jillian was the most easygoing person she’d ever known. She’d never raised her voice in anger, never blown her top.

“You’re saying I should marry him?” Ava said slowly.

“I’m saying a child has a right to know his father. From what I’ve read, Cal Prescott never knew his.”

“His mother remarried. He has a father.”

“But his birth father ran out. ‘To know the man, at first know the child.’”

“What?”

“Cal Prescott is a man with obvious trust issues, dear, which can make people do extreme things,” Jillian explained as she started unpacking the apples. “I do wish you’d pay attention a bit better.” Her face suddenly softened. “Or are those hormones kicking in already?”

Ava sighed. “It is not hormones. And don’t change the subject.” She leaned back in her chair, her mind tossing and turning. “I just don’t know what to do.”

Jillian rolled her eyes. “You both have something each other wants. So you make a deal.”

“Have you not been listening about the whole blackmail thing? The only thing he wants is the baby.” She laid a protective hand over her belly. “And he’s not getting that.”

“Darling, do you think he’d actually try to take away your child?” Jillian asked with a shake of her head. “Sounds to me the man just wants to be a father. And he can save Jindalee into the bargain. Unless…” she hesitated. “You don’t want Jindalee.”

Ava flushed. Jillian knew her better than anyone, even her own parents. Jindalee land had been in her family for over a hundred years. The sheep station had been her father’s dream, a culmination of hard work and town status. Ava had known from a very early age she was a distant fourth in his affections, streets behind the land, her mother, then her younger sister, Grace. The uncompromising man had often accused her of being too wild, too selfish, too carefree. And she’d proved it in spades at twenty when she’d single-handedly destroyed everything.

Not selfish anymore. She closed her eyes, picturing his silvery head held proud, a dark frown set in a face lined with age and the elements. She’d put her own share of worry lines on that face.

Her eyes shot open when Jillian placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You don’t have to prove anything anymore, Ava,” the older woman said softly. “He’s gone. He loved this land, but—”

“So do I.” It was the simple truth. She loved the gently sloping hills, the craggy gum trees that housed the native corellas and lorikeets. The kangaroos that grazed in the morning mist and the stunning sunsets that spread across the big navy sky. It made her heart expand with joy every day at the sheer beauty of the land. Her land.

“Ava,” Jillian said now, her eyes sympathetic. “It doesn’t have to be so hard. No one will think less of you if you sell.”

“But I would.” Ava stood, walked over to the counter and began washing the apples. She’d not sunk everything into this property just to see it fail. And if Cal was on the level, then she didn’t even have her neighbour’s buyout offer as backup.

Hope bloomed, a tiny thread of light bobbing along a sea of uncertainty. She let it sit there for a couple of seconds until caution doused it. Before she charged into any decision, she had to pin down the details. Cal was offering her a chance to save Jindalee. She might be guilty of many things, but looking a gift horse in the mouth was not one of them. It’d be a cakewalk compared to what she’d already been through.

A cakewalk.

On Saturday at 10:00 a.m., after her two paying customers had checked out, Ava knew she couldn’t stall any longer. She’d called and offered to drive the twenty minutes to Parkes, but Cal had preempted her. Now as she watched from her porch, a brand-new red Calais slowly made its way down the dirt road. It finally stopped in the small designated parking area, directly below the huge gum tree.

Ava took a breath, then another, dragging in the comforting kitchen smells to give her strength—vanilla, coffee and fresh-baked apple pie, aromas that said “welcome, come on in!”—or so she’d read in a decorating magazine.

When Cal finally unfolded himself from the car, she did a double take. She’d expected expensive casual: a polo shirt, sharply pressed pants, imported Italian shoes. But he surprised her in a pair of faded Levi’s, work boots, a brown leather jacket and white cotton T-shirt, the latter hugging like cling wrap, outlining every muscular dip and curve of his chest. Natural command and raw sexuality oozed fromhis every bone andAva couldn’t help but stare.

He stalked purposefully up her steps with a long-legged stride that indicated he’d no place else to be, his dark eyes shuttered and focused squarely on her. She threaded her fingers once then released them and suddenly the air was filled with his warm, spicy scent.

“Ava,” he said, making her name sound sexier than the promise of a hot, wet kiss. Lord, he undid her. Did he remember how in the dark of night, she’d confessed her name on his lips made her want to melt in a puddle at his feet? How he’d sensuously turned that confession against her and sent her body into a whimpering frenzy with every word, every whisper?

She quickly turned and walked in the kitchen door, but not before she caught his mouth twitch for one brief second. She groaned inwardly. He remembered.

Thankful that the warm kitchen disguised her flushed cheeks, she said over her shoulder, “We’ll go into the lounge room.”

As she led him down the hall, the tide of impending doom tugged at her legs. Her lounge room was welcoming and expansive, with cream walls and pine colonial-style furniture, but she couldn’t help but think Cal could buy a place like this a thousand times over. He was decisive, powerful and obscenely rich. If Jillian thought to sell her on all those attributes, she was sorely mistaken. It only proved to her that Cal was unfamiliar with the word “no.”

His closed expression pitched her stomach into queasy unrest. This man, with his brooding thoughtfulness and silent staring, who’d stormed back into her life and accused her of blackmail, was a complete stranger to her.

What on earth was she thinking?

She sat on the chaise longue and folded her legs under her, watching as he remained standing.

“I apologize,” he began stiffly, “for yesterday. I believe I could have come off a little…”

“Pushy?” she offered, surprised.

“Determined,” he amended firmly. “I’m not used to making deals based on…” He ran his eyes over her and for one second, something flared in the dark depths before he shut it down. “…personal matters.”

Ava could only stare. When he unflinchingly met her eyes, something clicked. He was actually embarrassed at admitting that—a man worth billions, a business genius who was a dead ringer for Russell Crowe and attracted women by the boatload. Yet his expression said he’d rather eat glass than reveal any emotional vulnerability.

Despite herself, despite his demands, she felt a tiny thread of sympathy unfurl. Yet before she could say anything, he crossed his arms and swiftly changed the subject.

“What I’m offering is a business proposition. You need money. In return, the baby—and you—will have the Prescott name and all that entails.”

The smooth conciseness of his proposal took her aback for one heartbeat. In the next, she realized exactly what was happening: Sheer brute force hadn’t worked, so he was playing his next hand. Calm reasoning. She wondered what he’d try next if she refused. Seduction, perhaps? To her annoyance, a gentle anticipatory buzz tripped over her skin.

“Won’t a wife put a downer on your lifestyle?” she said now, shoving those distracting thoughts aside.

His eyes bored into her. “Let me make this clear—you are having my baby. Which means I want you.”

Hot excitement fired through her veins, steamrolling every other thought into oblivion. She tried to will it away but it kept on coming, a constant pounding wave that alternately thrilled yet alarmed her.

With a deep breath she finally managed to gain some modicum of control. Cal was simply claiming his child, that was all. He just wanted what she could give him.

So why was she acting like a jittery fool in love?

She dragged her eyes away, her mind spinning. Why couldn’t he be the man who’d stormed in her door and accused her of blackmail? At least that way she could refuse his demands with a clear conscience.

Bottom line—losing Jindalee was not an option. And her other choices included bankruptcy and poverty. She also had Jillian to think about; she’d convinced her aunt to sell her little café and come live with her. And Cal was offering more than financial security, a chance to keep the land and ensure the Reilly legacy stayed in the family. He was willing—no, demanding—to be a presence in her child’s life. A man who wanted all the responsibilities that being a father entailed.

That was more than a lot of children got these days, herself included.

She finally glanced up, only to catch Cal studying her with an intensity that made her itch to smooth her hair and check her teeth.

“What kind of arrangement did you have in mind?” she said now.

“A legally binding contract. You marry me and in return I’ll pay off all your debts, plus give you any assistance necessary to see this place turn a profit.”

“I’m not handing this place over to some manager. The land and property remain in my name.”

“Naturally. But I do expect you to be in Sydney whenever I need you, to be available for functions, dinners and such.”

“No.” Ava swallowed. A quickie wedding was one thing. But to publicly flaunt it, to pretend?

He crossed his arms with a small sigh, a sure indication he’d lost patience. “Yes. Did you think I’d just give you money and that’d be it until the child was born?”

“I thought…”

“Well, you thought wrong.” His jaw tightened. “This is my stipulation.”

Any hope of taking the money and keeping a low profile quietly disintegrated. “So I’m to be your arm decoration.”

“My fiancée,” he corrected. “You will be my wife, the mother of my child, and I expect you to conduct yourself accordingly. As I will.”

She blinked. “Which means?”

“No unscripted interviews, no tell-all book deals if and when we divorce.” His eyes suddenly darkened. “And no lovers while we’re married.”

A surprised breath tore at her throat. “I need to think.” Quickly she rose and the room tilted beneath her feet. Just as she grabbed the longue, Cal’s hand shot out to steady her.

The shock was so instantaneous, so unexpected, that she gasped. As his long fingers curled around her upper arm, her treacherous flesh caved. A sudden flicker of heat sparked in her belly, sending desire across her skin, making her muscles ache with want.

As if her mind could sense the thin thread of control she teetered on, that night came flooding back in hot, bright technicolor. His eager mouth on hers, on her neck. His sure, skilful hands cupping her breasts, teasing her nipples into peaking hardness. And his hot passionate breath trailing a path of seduction from her navel down to—

She pulled away, refusing to meet his eyes, barely managing a “thank you.” Inside, she tried to squelch the spurt of panic but reality crashed in. If she wanted to save Jindalee, she had no other choice.

She rubbed her cheek, surprised at the heat beneath her hand. There was no denying her body’s reaction to his simple touch. She wanted him. Even after just one night, after his accusations and demands, she wanted him.

With an inward groan, she crossed her arms. “Fine. After you leave for Sydney I’ll keep you updated on the baby’s progress. Of course I will—”

“No. I’m flying home this afternoon. You’re coming with me.”

“Today? That wasn’t part of the deal.”

Cal paused, as if chewing back his words with infinite patience. “Being my wife means social functions, outings, the whole shebang. Starting immediately. I’ve also booked you in to see a top paediatrician on Tuesday.”

She frowned. “Do I have any say in this?”

“On this, no. Which reminds me…” he flipped open his phone and dialled, exchanged a few words, then hung up. “We’ll be back here next Sunday with my team,” he said. “They’ll need a tour, plus your existing marketing and advertising strategy. I assume you do have one?”

She straightened her shoulders with an indignant glare. “Yes.”

“I’ve also authorised payment of your loans and any other outstanding debts.” He shoved his hands on his hips. “Anything else?”

Howsabout you build a time machine and go back about nine weeks? The words bubbled up in her throat but she quickly swallowed them. Mutely she shook her head.

“Ava? Are we in agreement?”

She nearly whimpered as Cal’s deep voice flowed over her, kicking up her pulse another notch. Stop. Please stop talking, before I completely lose it. Her feet rocked, her heart hammering in her chest.

“What happens after the baby’s born?” she said hoarsely. “What if we…decide it’s not working?” What if you decide playing daddy isn’t fun anymore? What if I end up hating you? What if you fall in love with someone? Her heart twisted for a second, surprising her.

“Thinking about divorce before we’re even married?” He quirked one eyebrow up and she flattened her mouth until her lips hurt.

“Yes.”

He gave her a slow, considering look. “If that time comes, I’m open to discussing it. Not before. I’ve put a clause in the prenup to address that. But regardless of what we decide, I’m still that child’s father.”

The underlying thread of possessiveness was undeniable. If that didn’t drop her stomach, then the “if the time comes” bit did. Of course the time would come. A country girl and a big-city billionaire were no more suited than chalk and cheese. No one these days based a marriage purely on financial gain. No one except her, that is.

She nodded, even as perverse disappointment rioted through her. “So you’re asking me to marry you?”

Cal dragged his eyes away from the hollow of her neck to focus on her eyes. “Does this mean you’re saying yes?”

“Are you asking me to marry you?” she repeated, crossing her arms across her chest. Unfortunately, it only drew his attention to her breasts, which were now pushing seductively up from the deep V of her buttoned shirt.

Cal’s words inexplicably stuck to the roof of his dry mouth. Then he suddenly recalled their earlier conversation. He hadn’t asked her. He cleared his throat. “Ava. Will you marry me?”

She took a breath, almost as if drawing in strength. “Yes. But with stipulations.”

“Go on.”

She flushed but kept right on going. “Any major decisions, any changes concerning Jindalee must be first approved by me.”

Cal frowned. “My team is better equipped to decide—”

“This is my land, Cal.” She levelled an unwavering gaze at him. “I get the final say-so.”

“Okay,” he conceded, finally seating himself on the arm of a sturdy one seater. “I’ll have my solicitor put it in the contract.”

Ava stilled, waiting for a sign, anything that would let her know she was either making a colossal mistake or doing the right thing. Nothing. And as the seconds ticked by, she took another breath, then sat.

“I plan to be a hands-on mother, which means I won’t be handing this baby over to a nanny just so I can swan off to parties with you.”

His brief flash of surprise quickly disappeared with a cool nod. “Understood.”

“And…” She faltered. “One more thing. The sleeping arrangements.” One eyebrow kinked up but he said nothing. Under his scrutiny she felt the traitorous heat bloom across her skin. “I don’t think it would be a good idea to…well…”

“Have sex?” He leaned back, carefully crossing his ankle over one knee as his mouth twitched. His nonchalant amusement only deepened her embarrassment.

“Well, yes.”

He shrugged. “If that’s what you want.”

Ava nodded, mortification clogging her throat. Of course it’s what she wanted. He thought she was a woman who got herself pregnant just to blackmail him. She had more self-respect than to jump into bed with a man who believed she was a common criminal.

Yet his quick acquiescence seared the edges of her womanly pride. As she studied him, she recalled an article she’d once read…something about pregnant women being a huge turn-off for some men. She’d never pegged Cal for one of those men. But then, they’d been lovers for only one fleeting night—what did she really know about her husband-to-be?

She felt the blood drain from her face. Her husband. To be.

“Then it’s settled.” He leaned forward, hand outstretched and for a second she just stared at him. At his questioning look, she quickly took his hand, sealing the deal and her fate with one firm handshake.

Yet her mind wasn’t on the deal they’d just struck—it was on the way his long fingers wrapped around hers, enveloping her in heat and…something more, something almost protective. Something that tugged at the deepest part of her, that spoke to every teenage yearning, every wish list of happy-ever-afters she’d ever made. Here was a man in every sense of the word—strong, determined, a provider. The sheer command of his very presence took her breath away.

“Ava?”

With a jolt she realized she still held his hand and worse, she’d been stroking it with her thumb.

With a gasp she tried to pull back, but he refused to let her go. Instead she stood but he followed her, his hand still imprisoning hers.

“Ava…” he trailed off, almost as if rethinking his next words.

“Cal, please.” Please don’t? Or please do? Her head said one thing, her body another, and from the sudden awareness sparking in his dark eyes, she knew which one he’d chosen to hear.

Please do.

He drew her to him with all the skill and confidence of a man who knew she wouldn’t refuse. He cupped her elbows, pinning her to his chest, to that warm, hard wall of muscle beneath soft cotton that cried out to be touched, caressed. Kissed.

She closed her eyes as heat and desire turned her brain to mush, waiting in willing anticipation for his lips to claim hers. A tremble started up in her belly, looping and swirling as she felt his warm breath gently swoop over her mouth. Her heart kicked up the tempo, beating hard in her throat, in her head. In a sharp rush, she exhaled, then…then…

Nothing.

“Look at me.”

His sinful voice sent a flutter of goosebumps over her skin. Slowly, she did as he asked.

Danger. She felt it crackle in the air as his chest pressed intimately into her breasts. His eyes held the remembrance of mutual pleasures, everything she’d walked away from, everything in her tortured dreams.

A deep, burning need seared Cal a thousand times over as he stared into her upturned face. To his stunned amazement, he realized he wanted her, right here, right now. After weeks of denial, his body ached for her like he’d been cloistered in a monastery for years. He shouldn’t want her. Damn, he didn’t even trust her.

Pride nipped at his heels, giving him the strength to release her. With regret dogging his retreat, he gritted his teeth.

“If you want me, Ava,” he growled, unable to disguise the lust in his voice, “then you’ll have to say it.”

Chapter Three

Her eyes, heavy with arousal, suddenly flew wide open. “What?”

She looked so different from the first time they’d met—more earthy, more sensual. Yet he could still see a glimpse of the woman he’d bedded underneath the denim veneer: the way her eyes tilted up at the corners, the ripe lush mouth that was heaven to taste. Lord, he just wanted to peel off that snug shirt, yank down her jeans and take her with that sexy midnight hair falling around her shoulders, her lips whispering his name.

With a soft curse, he shoved a hand through his hair and gave her his back.

“You want me to ask you for sex?”

The disgust in her voice had him whirling back to the angry indignation tightening her face.

“You actually want me to beg?” She breathed, incredulous. “Of all the conceited, arrogant…! Yes, I’ve agreed to marry you but I am not going to pander to your ego by—”

“Hang on.” He put up a hand in alarm. “I never said—”

“—begging you for anything! First you accuse me of blackmail and now this. I get it—it’s some sort of punishment for—”

“Stop!”

His command only angered her more. She pulled herself up to her full five-foot-three and jammed her hands on her hips, her face tight with passionate fury. “I will not stop! And just because I’m having your baby doesn’t mean—”