She’d almost made him believe she was innocent

Michael North knew Bree Oliver was a gorgeous gold digger after his brother’s fortune, so he seduced her in a night of lovemaking and swore he’d let her go. Then a tragic accident changed everything. Now he must honor a deathbed promise to his brother—to protect the one woman Michael can never trust.

But watching over the pregnant Bree tests the tycoon’s self-control. Is Bree as virtuous as she claims? Or is he a fool to fall for her act? Torn between desire and distrust, Michael’s walking a treacherous line, unaware of the shocking secret she’s carrying….

“Now who’s seducing who?”

Michael pushed Bree back against the wall, and his lips found hers. He kissed her hard and long. Glorious heat rushed through her veins as she kissed him back.

He lifted his head. Dazed, her heart racing, her eyes met the wildness in his gaze. He was the father of her unborn baby. In spite of all the walls she’d tried to erect against him, she still felt connected to him.

What she really wanted was for him to love their child and maybe someday love her, too. And when he kissed her like this, some idiotic part of her believed that could happen, that he might change someday, that he might see her as she was and be capable of respecting her…of loving her.

Dear Reader,

When Michael North’s younger brother, Will, who’s dying, begs Michael to protect Bree, his pregnant widow, Michael is torn, because eight weeks earlier he’d seduced Bree to protect Will from her gold-digging schemes. Not only had his brother married her anyway, Michael, who can’t forget her, is devastated that he’d meant so little. But how can he walk away when her unborn baby is his heir and the last living link to his brother?

One of my walking partners, who loves to cook, inspired Bree. A failing restaurateur, Bree is family-oriented and sensual and very tuned in to food. A successful businessman whom I admire recently told me how growing up without enough love negatively impacted his life. He inspired the character of Michael.

Love demands a surrender of self that is much harder for some people. Although Michael is drawn to the loving person he senses in Bree, he is too conditioned by his past to trust his emotions.

Then he finds out he’s the one who’s in the wrong. Suddenly, he feels so lost without Bree and her child, he has no choice but to surrender.

Happy reading,

Ann

Her Pregnancy Secret

Ann Major

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ANN MAJOR lives in Texas with her husband of many years and is the mother of three grown children. She has a master’s degree from Texas A&M at Kingsville, Texas, and is a former English teacher. She is a founding board member of the Romance Writers of America and a frequent speaker at writers’ groups.

Ann loves to write—she considers her ability to do so a gift. Her hobbies include hiking in the mountains, sailing, ocean kayaking, traveling and playing the piano. But most of all, she enjoys her family. Visit her website at www.annmajor.com.

To Ted

I love you more

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Epilogue

Extract

One

Michael North awakened with a violent start in the middle of the night.

His first thought was for the safety of the exquisite woman curled trustingly against him. She was warm and soft, beguilingly beautiful in the moonlight with her dark golden hair spilling across his pillow. He wanted to touch that hair and kiss her lips again, wanted it so much he had to clench his hands.

Ironically, he’d enjoyed his evening with her more than he’d enjoyed being with anyone in a very long time.

Maybe that was why his gut twisted as he experienced an uncustomary pang of conscience. After all, he’d seduced her for very deliberate, self-serving reasons.

Careful not to disturb her, he sat up and brushed a lock of thick black hair out of his eyes. Everything he’d done tonight—the seductive dinner at her failing bistro, the lovemaking in his penthouse, all the shared laughter and smiles—had been a lie.

He’d set her up so he could protect his naive younger brother.

But at some point Michael had forgotten about Will. His dinner date with Bree had begun with champagne served in sparkling flutes at Chez Z, the intimate French bistro she’d inherited from her famous brother, Johnny Z. She loved to cook and to eat, and Michael had loved watching her indulge.

She’d blushed when she’d drunk champagne. She’d sighed when she’d licked chocolate off her fingertips, and his. The wet, warm tip of her tongue against his flesh had almost been as good as having sex with her. Almost.

He’d loved the sound of her laughter, the glow of her cheeks when she teased him, the flash of intelligence in her slanting eyes when she’d made him feel clever and her wildness in bed. When had he had such a good time with anybody?

Surprisingly, Bree had given him more pleasure and tenderness and amusement during their evening than he’d ever imagined possible.

Because, first, she wasn’t his usual type. He went for cool, sophisticated glamour, for sleek, slim blondes who made heads turn and other men envy him. Bree was lush and earthy and wanton. She loved color and baubles and cheap scarves and probably didn’t bother to carry a comb in her purse.

And second, Bree Oliver, for all her seeming innocence and charms, was a gold digger. She’d targeted his foolish brother, thinking Will was the chump she needed to keep Chez Z from going into bankruptcy.

For Will’s sake, Michael had to finish her off. No matter how much he’d enjoyed being with her or how fabulous she’d been in bed, she deserved it.

If only Michael had been as smart five years ago when he’d fallen for Anya Parris. But, no, like a fool, when Anya had lied about being pregnant, he’d married her. He’d suffered through a hellish marriage that had included infidelity, scandal and a very public divorce.

Never again would Michael forget the cynical truth about the North wealth. It attracted women who pretended a genuine interest in him when all they wanted was the use of his penthouse, his ranch, his helicopters, his private jets, his invitations to the right clubs, the best restaurants and the A-list parties. Unlike his brother, Michael wasn’t above enjoying the women his money lured, but only for brief intervals.

Never again would he believe any woman wanted more from him than his luxurious lifestyle. Never again would he make the mistake of forming a serious attachment. Unfortunately Will, who’d had a more indulged childhood than Michael, was too trusting for his own good. It was up to Michael to save Will from Bree.

Soft summer moonlight turned the high ceilings of his loft and his large bed to shades of silver and gray. Bree’s body felt warm; treacherously so as she nestled closer against him. Her cheap silver bangles and necklaces on the bedside table glittered. Her colorful, filmy clothes and scarves lay in tangles on the floor beside her sandals where he’d stripped her while she’d swayed to music, laughing.

The cozy heat of her satin-soft body lured him. He wanted to stay beside her, to see the shy warmth of her sweetly crooked smile and the flirtatious glow that lit her amber eyes every time he kissed her.

No, he had to finish her off—now—even if her sweet strawberry scent filled his nostrils and made him weak with the craving to bury his lips in her thick, satiny hair, to kiss her throat, to taste her mouth and other parts of her sexy, feminine anatomy just one more time.

Intoxicated by her soft, sensual allure, he lingered in the bed beside her, torturing himself as he savored her warmth and remembered all the ways they’d made love.

She’d been so silky and tight the first time, like a velvet glove. When he’d pushed eagerly inside, holding her against the wall, she’d cried out. But when he’d stopped out of concern for her, she’d pressed her palms into the small of his spine and pleaded with him to stay—to stay forever if that was possible. Slowly her small body had accommodated itself to him. Driving into her, the pleasure of each stroke had been so total in its visceral thrill that fierce pleasure unlike any he had ever known had saturated every cell in his body.

She’d been a damn good actress, playing at virginal innocence, enticing him, then surrendering like a wanton. She’d nearly undone him. She’d almost made him believe that he alone, not his fortune, was special to her.

“Who knew?” she’d whispered with him sheathed inside her. “I like it. No, I love it.” Then she’d stroked his cheek lovingly, her eyes shining with wonder. “I’m glad it’s you. I never thought it would be half so nice. I always wanted to date someone as handsome and smart as you. I...I just never thought anybody like you...would look at a girl like me.”

It had been nice for him, too, being with her. More than nice.

Special.

His world could be so cold, and she seemed so sweet. For one forbidden moment, when she’d kissed him as if she’d wanted to consume him, he’d lost himself in the searing hot, torrid welcome of her body. He’d almost forgotten to protect himself.

Every time he’d made love to her, even with a condom, the sex had gotten better. And each time afterward when she’d clung to him, she’d seemed sweeter. Whatever this thing was between them, it had shaken him to the core. Hell, just thinking about her and what she’d done to him made him hard again, even as he lay beside her icily plotting his next step.

“Will said you were cold and uptight,” she’d whispered.

He hadn’t liked her comparing him to Will, but with every kiss and unassuming glance her power over him had increased. A connection to her built deep inside him and morphed into something that felt more than physical.

What had been going on?

Her mysterious white-hot appeal had fueled a compulsion that no other woman had ever aroused in him. She’d made him ravenous. Together their writhing bodies had burned and soared. His out-of-control excitement had felt addictive, tempting him to forget everything he knew about women like her. She’d provided some deeply needed comfort he hadn’t known he’d craved until he’d experienced it in her arms. He had never known a real home, or felt at home with anyone, not even with the Norths, who’d given him their name and had claimed him as family. Not until tonight...with her.

She was dangerous. He had to rid himself of her quickly.

If he stalled for even one more night, she might have him totally in her power. He might even sink his own money into her bistro.

If he invested enough, would she favor him over Will?

Hell, he had the money. A part of him wanted her to prefer him to all others.

He swore. Such thoughts could derail him from his purpose. Just as he was about to throw off the covers and escape her so he could get his head straight, she whimpered. Clutching at his arms, she seemed to expect him to protect her from some mysterious terror.

“Michael...”

His heart throbbed. Oh, God.

Her voice was feminine, helpless. When her featherlight fingertips brushed his skin, he burned, aching for her all over again. No way could he resist her plea.

How old was she? Twenty-five? Ten years younger than he was? Or even younger? Whatever her age, with her thick, dark gold hair tumbling about her face and bare shoulders, her wild beauty dazzled him. She had a classic brow, a long, thin nose, high cheekbones, an incandescent complexion and full, voluptuous lips.

Not that she had the money or sense of style to dress properly. Her baggy, overlarge clothes had concealed and distracted more than they’d enhanced her beauty. But naked—with her tiny waist, curvy hips, soft breasts and those pert nipples exposed—she was perfect.

More than anything he wanted to roll her over, take her in his arms, hold her and pet her hair, and whisper that everything was all right. But nothing was all right. Not when he knew what she was—and what he had to do—and yet still felt so powerfully attracted to her.

* * *

Careful not to disturb her, he arose. He had to get a grip. But the minute he broke their physical connection, she sensed it and seemed to miss his presence as much as he missed hers.

“Michael,” she purred in a sexy, sleep-blurred tone. “Darling, come back to bed.”

“I’m not your darling,” he growled, hating that on some level he wanted to be.

“Michael, I... Have I done something...?” At his harsh tone, her voice grew shy and uncertain before it died in the silvery darkness.

The powerful need to comfort her from the hurt he was determined to inflict wrapped around him.

Hell. He had to finish this—or he would go crazy.

“I’m not your darling,” he repeated ruthlessly. “Tonight, everything, all of it—it was all lies.”

“Lies?”

“I seduced you to protect Will. From you. When you came on to me while I was with him at the fund-raiser, I knew what you were and saw how you intended to use him. You made my job easy when you made a play for me, too.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I sought you out tonight and slept with you so I could use it as leverage to make you stop seeing my brother. Tonight was all about Will.”

“Will?” She sounded confused. “Wait a minute. You think Will and I...that we’re a couple? That we’re dating? You...you don’t like me?”

“How could I like you, knowing what you are?”

Having been poor himself, he knew all about wanting more, about using people to get what he wanted. He’d worked damned hard. Still, he’d done a few things he wasn’t proud of to get where he was.

“You were after him, and then after me, because you needed our money for your failing restaurant.”

“No,” she whispered.

“Do you deny Will is one of your investors?”

“No.” But her beautiful mouth trembled just a little, and her eyes were now glistening with unshed tears. “You...deceived me? You didn’t really want me?”

He shook his head.

“Why? How could you do that? I would never use Will...or anybody. Will’s a friend, and yes, he’s an investor. He’s been an investor right from the beginning. But I’m not after his money! I’m not!”

“Then why did you hit on me so blatantly the night we met at the fund-raiser when you were with Will?”

“Maybe I flirted. But only because I thought you liked me....” She sucked in a breath. “Will is just a friend. He was a friend of Johnny’s first, and an investor in Chez Z when my brother first opened it. That’s how Will and I became friends.”

“Friends? That’s all you were?”

The night of the fund-raiser she’d worn a silver backless gown and a transparent shawl that had left very little of her sensuous shape to his imagination.

Her family history hadn’t helped his opinion of her. Six months ago, Johnny Z, her celebrity-chef brother, had been found dead in bed with a prominent plastic surgeon’s wife, another of the bistro’s investors. Everyone presumed the surgeon had shot Johnny, but the husband, who’d hired lawyers, wasn’t talking to the police, and his wife had vanished. Thus, the investigation had stalled. Still, the scandal, coupled with Z’s absence in the kitchen, had been devastating to Chez Z’s bottom line.

“Will asked me to go with him to the fund-raiser, so he could introduce me to some people who might be interested in investing. When he introduced me to you, I thought you might be one of those people.”

Her eyes were so brilliant with innocence and outrage he almost believed her. Then he remembered Anya and how gullible he’d been. He’d wanted to believe her. Capable as he might be in the business world, apparently he was an easy mark when it came to women he wanted in his bed.

“Bottle the performance! If you think I’m as big a fool as my little brother, you’re wrong. I want you to dress and leave. If you stay away from Will, I won’t tell him I slept with you tonight. If you don’t leave him alone, I’ll tell him about us.”

“Tell him for all I care. Better—maybe I’ll tell him myself. He needs to know how far you’ll go to control his life. Maybe he’ll resent you even more than he already does.”

Her reaction caught him off guard. He’d expected her to care more, to bargain, and what she’d said about Will hurt.

“He can’t afford to resent me,” Michael bluffed. “I write his allowance checks.”

“So everything’s just about money and control to you? And you think I’m like you—”

“I know you are! So, leave my brother alone, and I won’t make him think the worst of you by telling him about us. You bet on the wrong horse this time. Pick another. Someone who isn’t naive. Someone more like you and me.”

“Tell him. I’m not like you, and you can’t blackmail me, either.”

“You are like me. Greed isn’t the only thing we have in common,” he replied coldly. “If Will didn’t desire you, I’d be willing to set you up as my mistress. I’d keep you and your bistro afloat for as long you excited me.”

“Do you ever listen? For the last time, your brother and I are just friends. That’s why he won’t care if you slept with me. He was just an investor in the bistro. He already has someone in his life.”

“Really—who?”

Michael knew she was lying when she faltered and said, “Maybe you should ask him.”

If only Will did have someone, then Michael could have Bree for himself. He could afford her a helluva lot more easily than Will, couldn’t he?

Suddenly Michael reconsidered the situation. Where was the harm in keeping her, if she wasn’t serious about Will? As long as he understood what she was and was willing to be generous to her?

“Okay, then, if Will doesn’t want you because he has someone else, there’s nothing to stop me from having you. Here’s a new deal for you. If you cut Will loose as an investor and become my mistress, I’ll keep your bistro afloat for as long as you please me in bed.”

“What?” She stared at him as if she was having a hard time comprehending him.

“You heard me. Be my mistress, and your money problems will go away for as long as you keep me happy. Like you did tonight.”

“I can’t believe this. First you sleep with me to destroy an imagined relationship with your brother. And now you want to buy me for yourself? I’m sorry I ever met you.”

“I’m sure you’ll feel differently after you shop for the right apartment in the neighborhood of your choice and we settle on your generous allowance.”

“Now you wait a minute!”

“You want to save the bistro, don’t you? We enjoy each other, so why not?”

She pushed herself up from the bed. “You can’t just buy people!”

“You’d be surprised what money buys.”

“Well, I’m not for sale.”

“I doubt that. I just haven’t made you the right offer. Tell me what you want, and we’ll negotiate.”

“I can’t believe I ever thought for one second that you were a decent human being.” Her expression twisted in utter misery. “And I did. I really did. I can’t believe I’ve been such a fool...again.” She sighed. “This just proves what I told you earlier—I don’t have very good instincts about men. I think you’re the worst of them all...and I have to tell you, that’s pretty low.”

Her rejection stunned him. Too late Michael saw that he should have flattered her, that he should have seduced her into the deal as he had seduced her into his bed. Obviously she was like all the criminals in prison who proclaimed their innocence; she really didn’t see that she had done anything wrong. That’s where they were different. At least he knew when he’d crossed the line and was willing to accept the inevitable consequences.

“I’ll call my chauffeur,” he said coldly, hiding his disappointment. “He’ll be at the front door downstairs in five minutes to escort you out of the building. He’ll drive you anywhere you wish to go. After tonight I don’t ever want to see you with my brother again. Do you understand?”

“You can’t order me around...or your brother, who is an adult, and who is, whether you like it or not, one of my key investors. I fully intend to see him as often as I like! He has every right to invest his money where he chooses.”

“You’re very wrong.”

Michael turned his back and strode out of the room because the sight of her shimmering, pain-filled eyes, her quivering lips and her bare breasts were more than he could bear. Damn it, in spite of her rejection, in spite of what she was and how she was using Will, he still wanted her.

Only when he heard her rushing down his spiral staircase to the lower floor—she never used an elevator unless she had to because she was afraid of them—only when he heard his front door slam downstairs, did Michael return to his bedroom.

For a long moment he stood in the dark and stared out at the city that sparkled beneath a full moon and a starless sky. It was a beautiful night, he supposed, a night made for romance, if one believed in such things. He wondered if his failure to do so was due to the many flaws in his soul.

Growing bored with the view he left the window and turned on every light. Never had the vast marble bedroom in his penthouse apartment blazed with such cold and terrible brightness.

Only when he saw the bright splashes of red staining his sheet did he realize that maybe he’d been wrong about at least one thing.

Had she been a virgin? His heart, which usually felt so solid behind its frozen walls, began to beat with vicious, guilty pain. Surely no virgin would have shown such a wild, uninhibited response. And yet...

When he remembered her little cry when he’d first entered her, and her sweetness, and the admiration in her eyes when he’d discussed some of his projects with her, he recoiled. What if she had been an innocent? What if he, who’d been raised so roughly, had failed to see goodness because it had been such a rarity in his life?

“If I could succeed at even one thing, I’d feel so proud of myself,” she had confided. “And look at you—you turned the family investment firm around right after the last global financial meltdown. Now you’re opening banks and hotels in China and power plants in Malaysia. You conquer worlds—and accept such feats as your due. Your family must be so proud of you.” Her shining eyes had warmed him through.

If he’d been wrong about her virginity, had he been wrong about other things? Had she truly admired his accomplishments? Had she liked him, at least a little? Had he wounded her? And what was she really to Will?

No.

Damn it. He was sure of her ulterior motives. With her famous brother dead, his image trashed and their once popular bistro on the Upper West Side in trouble, she’d been after Will for his money. Then she had zeroed in on Michael at the fund-raiser when she’d seen a better mark. The only reason she’d turned down Michael’s second offer was because he’d wounded her pride.

As he yanked the sheets off his bed, he remembered her radiant complexion and the wonder in her eyes and his own intense pleasure. Sheathed to the hilt, he’d felt all male and powerful and yet happy in a bone-melting way he’d never known before.

If she was what he believed, why had she turned him down? Why?

Michael tried and failed to push his gnawing doubts aside. Damn it, he had to know why. But he couldn’t face her tonight.

They both deserved a few hours to recover from his brutal offer and her rejection. Tomorrow morning would be soon enough to confront her again.

But by morning she was gone.

After he bribed the doorman to let him in to her empty apartment, he stomped about flinging her cupboards open while he dialed her cell phone, which went to voice mail. For more than an hour he searched for some clue as to where she’d gone and found none. His texts were ignored. When he went to Chez Z, her steely-eyed French mother, Bijou, had been in a meeting with the waitstaff.

“She said she had to go somewhere,” her mother said coolly, when he’d insisted upon interrupting her. “She said it was an emergency. She looked upset. I didn’t pry. Now, I wish I’d asked more questions. Are you the problem? Is she in trouble because of you?”

“No.”

“Well! She is no good with men. In fact, that’s an understatement. She’s pathetic. She took after me, you see. Her father did everything he could to ruin my life. If you aren’t going to treat her right, stay away from her, yes?”

What could he say to that? Despite the circumstances, he envied Bree for having such a mother. He hadn’t been so lucky.

When Michael went to his brother’s to warn him about Bree, Will refused to let Michael into his apartment.

“She already told me what you accused her of,” Will said, standing with the door half-closed to keep Michael in the hall. “I don’t know where she is, and frankly, I wouldn’t tell you if I did. You’ve overstepped the line.”

“She said you were seeing another woman? Are you?”

Will, who usually had an easy nature, scowled. “Right now, maybe you can guess why I don’t choose to discuss my personal life with you.”

Then he shut the door in Michael’s face.

Michael felt guilty and uneasy. What was Will hiding? Not only had Bree rejected him, she’d turned his brother against him. Will wouldn’t even confirm he was dating someone else, so did that mean he was still interested in Bree? If Will was involved with another woman, what the hell had Michael accomplished by bedding Bree other than becoming obsessed with her himself?

The odds were he was right about her character. Maybe she was gone, but what good was that if Will felt more protective of her than ever? Instead of turning his brother against her, all he’d done was make his brother angry with him.

Despite everything, Michael burned for her. No matter how hard he tried to bury himself in his work during the weeks that followed, no matter where he traveled or how many glamorous women he publicly dated in the attempt to prove to himself and to her how little she mattered, he couldn’t forget her.

Even when he left on what proved to be a month-long business trip to Shanghai to solve a crisis at one of his hotels, memories of her sweetness and outraged innocence lingered, haunting him.

The perfection of their night together drove him mad—especially after he learned that the same day he’d left New York, she’d returned to her bistro and had lunched with Will.

Had she deliberately remained hidden until he was gone? Was she that afraid of him?

What was her game? How could he stop her and save Will?

Two

Eight weeks later

Will has to be okay. He has to be.

As his heart beat in panic, Michael slammed through the heavy steel emergency-room doors with his dripping briefcase. When Pedro, his assistant who’d notified him about the accident, wasn’t at the entrance, Michael had rushed inside and hurried down a crowded hall that was a blur of nondescript floor tiles and pale green walls, beds, patients and visitors.

Michael had been trying to call Bree from his limo on the drive through thick rain from JFK airport into the city. When all he could get was her voice mail, he’d decided to stop by Chez Z on the way to his office to confront her again. He’d just pulled up at the curb outside the bistro when Pedro had called him to tell him Will had been in an accident.

“Where’s Will North?” Michael demanded of the nurses in dark scrubs at the nurses’ station. “I’m his brother. I got a call a while ago that he was in an accident and that he’d been brought here by EMTs.”

“North?” Nurses looked up from their papers and stilled. When they didn’t answer him, maybe because they had to choose their words carefully, he sensed the gravity of his brother’s condition.

Oh, God. It was bad.

“Where is he?” Michael demanded in a hoarse voice he didn’t recognize as his own. “What happened?”

Ask a tough question....

An older nurse with a kindly face gave him the bare facts.

A head-on collision in the heavy rain. Tony Ferrar, who was apparently his brother’s friend and the driver, died at the scene. The driver of the SUV that struck them, a twenty-four-year-old woman who’d possibly been drunk or texting, had flown across the median of the interstate and collided head-on with Will’s Mercedes. She’d died at the scene. Will had removed his seat belt and thrown himself in front of his wife. As a result he’d suffered back injuries, head injuries and multiple fractures. He needed immediate surgery.

The nurse’s words buzzed in Michael’s head.

“Wife?”

Was that what Will had wanted to tell him over lunch today? Had he married his secret girlfriend?

On some level Michael’s numbed brain faced the harsh reality of his brother’s injuries. On another, he refused to accept that his younger brother could be so seriously injured.

Not Will. Michael had called him from Shanghai last night. When Michael had asked him about Bree, Will had refused to discuss her.

“I have some big news. I’ll give you an update over lunch tomorrow,” was all he’d said.

“Can I see my brother...before his surgery?” Michael demanded of the nurse.

“Of course. But don’t say much or you’ll tire him.”

Only when he saw Will’s gray face washed of all color, and Will’s body shrunken and as still as death did the gravity of Will’s injuries finally hit Michael.

“Will. Can you hear me? It’s me. Michael,” he said gently.

Tubes hissed and gurgled. His brother, whose bruised face was swathed in bloodstained bandages, stirred faintly. His mouth quivered, and he seemed to struggle to focus on Michael’s face.

“Don’t talk,” Michael commanded.

“Have to... No time... You know, they’re wrong about your life passing before your eyes.” Will’s voice was so thready Michael had to lean close to his brother’s lips to hear it. “It’s the future you’ll never have...that matters.”

“Don’t waste your strength trying to talk. You’re young. You’re going to be okay. I swear it.”

“Not even you can fix this. But you can do one thing for me....”

“Anything.”

“Take care of Bree.”

“What?”

“Bree... She’s...my wife,” Will gasped.

“Bree? You married Bree?”

“She’s pregnant. No time to explain. We didn’t want to tell you like this. Just promise me...that you’ll take care of her and...the baby.”

“The baby?”

“She’s pregnant and hurt. I don’t know how badly. We were in the backseat. Tony was driving. Tony’s dead.... Tried...to save her...for you.”

“For me...”

“You care about her.”

Sweat broke out on Michael’s forehead. His hands opened and closed in fists as fury and concern for her and grief for his brother tore at him.

One thing was very clear. She’d lied about her relationship to Will. They had been involved. After she’d slept with Michael, she’d gone back to Will as easy as you please, gotten herself pregnant by him so he’d marry her. They’d kept it all a secret from Michael until he’d gotten back from Shanghai.

Will had been so dazzled by Bree he’d removed his own seat belt to protect her.

Then Michael remembered that Will would receive a million dollars from the North trust when he married, as well as a sizable increase in his allowance. He would receive even more once the child was born.

Had Will informed Bree about all those benefits? Probably.

Her treachery didn’t matter right now. Only Will mattered.

His brother’s glazed eyes read Michael like a book. “I know you don’t think you like her. And I knew you wouldn’t approve of our marriage, but she’s been through a rough time. She’s a wonderful girl. Not a gold digger like you think.”

Michael swore silently. His brother was so hopelessly naive.

“What you did to her...was all my fault.”

“Whatever I did, I did it for you,” Michael said.

“Understood. So, promise me...you’ll take care of her. If you’ll do this one thing for me, we’ll be square.”

No way could Michael promise that.

“Promise me,” Will insisted.

The room felt stale and airless. His brother looked so pale—Michael couldn’t say no to him. He yanked at his collar and tore at his tie that was damp from the rain. He wanted to run out of the room, to get outside, to breathe fresh air.

Through gritted teeth he said, “I promise I’ll take care of your wife.” Carefully Michael took his brother’s limp hand and pressed it lightly. “I’ll even shake on it.”

“And her restaurant. Help her save it.”

Michael nodded.

Satisfied, Will’s heavy eyelids drooped shut.

A few seconds later an older male nurse in blue scrubs rushed up to the gurney and flipped through Will’s chart. Without a word, he bent over his patient.

Michael stood in the doorway and watched the man wheel his brother away, watched until they vanished down the long hall. The sounds of people rushing past him died. All he could hear was his own heart. Would he ever see his brother alive again?

Suddenly he felt very cold, and very much alone, as alone as he’d been as a kid. Since he couldn’t stand forever in an empty hall staring at waxed floor tiles and feeling sorry for himself, he turned and headed back to the nurse’s station where he found Pedro, who took Michael to Bree.

Two women, probably family, hovered over Bree. She lay on a narrow bed that had been curtained off from the other beds in the large room.

Michael held out his hand. “I’m Michael North, Will’s brother. Her brother-in-law.”

The older woman took his hand. “I’m Bijou, her mother. Wait! I never forget a face. You’re that handsome rich guy that came to the restaurant looking for her, yes? I thought maybe you gave her some trouble, yes?”

Heat washed through him. “Yes.”

“I’m Marcie,” the pretty blonde beside Bijou said. “I wait tables for Bree and Bijou. Bree’s just the sweetest person in the whole world. So is Will. I can’t believe that two such super people...”

“Marcie! You need to be strong, oui!” Bijou turned to Michael. “We’ll give you a minute with her,” she said. “But only a minute.”

When they left, Michael moved closer to Bree’s bed. Her thick lashes were still against her bloodless cheeks, so she didn’t see him at first. Dark circles ringed her eyes. More than a dozen bruises and livid cuts covered her arms and cheeks. At the sight of her injuries, he choked on a breath.

She looked so slim and fragile in her hospital gown, he felt a stab of fear. She was carrying his brother’s child, and Michael had sworn he’d take care of her.

Despite the money she must have been after when she’d married Will, Michael’s resentment toward her faded. If Will died, her child would be Michael’s last link to his brother.

“Bree? Can you hear me? It’s Michael. When I got in from Shanghai I heard about the accident. I came at once.”

“Michael...” Her lashes fluttered weakly, and for an instant her face lit up with pleasure...and with some other more luminous emotion that thrilled him. Her eyes had shone like that when he’d first entered her.

In the next second she must have remembered what he’d done because her gaze went flat and cold. “Where’s Bijou? What are you doing here? I want my mother back.”

“Your mother’s right outside. Will asked me to check on you, so I’m here,” Michael said softly.

“Will asked you...” She let out a harsh sob and turned her face to the wall. “I don’t believe you! He’s as fed up with you as I am! Go away!”

Michael felt conscience-stricken and confused, which wasn’t like him.

“I don’t need you here,” she said to the wall, her tone so low he could barely hear her. “Will knows that, so you’re lying if you say he sent you.”

“He did. He was facing surgery, and I think he was afraid.”

She sucked in a breath. “Oh, God... I’m being so selfish. Tony’s dead and maybe Will won’t...and he’s in there scared and alone...and thinking of me. He’s so good.”

“Yes, he is.” Michael’s voice was hard and condemning.

When she jerked her head around to stare at him again, he noted how the soft blue fabric of her hospital gown molded against her breasts. “They told me how badly Will was hurt. They didn’t want to. But I made them. If he dies, it will be all my fault. He took off his seat belt...right before that SUV shot across the median and rammed us. Will saw it coming and threw himself in front of me...to protect me and the baby. Poor Tony never had a chance.”

“Who’s Tony?”

An odd, almost sorrowful expression passed swiftly over her bruised face. Clutching her sheet, she looked away. “Will’s best friend. He was driving.”

“Funny. I’ve never met him.”

She chewed her bottom lip. “I imagine you were too wrapped up in money matters to really involve yourself in your brother’s personal life—except when it came to me—because you saw me as a financial threat.”

Her words hurt more than they should have. “Will said you and he were expecting a baby.”

Her face went even whiter, if that were possible.

“H-he had no right to talk to you about the baby. He swore to me he wouldn’t.”

“He asked me to take care of you...and the baby...in case...”

She shuddered. “It just gets worse, doesn’t it? You and me—stuck together...maybe without Will?”

“It’s probably just a precaution. I promised him I would. If...if the worst happens. I intend to keep my word.”

“Really? Your word?” She tipped her head back and frowned, studying him. “As if that means something.” She took a deep, stabilizing breath. “Just go away.”

“I intend to honor my promise—whether or not you want me to,” he said.

“You deliberately deceived me, to get me to do things I find truly humiliating now. How could I have been so foolish?”

Sensual, erotic things he’d dreamed of her doing to him again.

“I thought I’d found the one person—never mind!” she snapped. “You made it very clear how you really felt about me at a moment when I was most tender and open and vulnerable to you. I don’t know how all those other women feel, the ones you date for a night or two, but let me be very clear. You are the last person I would ever want in my life, even casually. I don’t care if you’re Will’s brother and my baby’s...uncle, or that you feel a duty to keep your promise. I do not want to see you. I do not want my child to know you. Do you understand?”

Her words cut Michael deeply. Curiously, he felt guilt, as well. Why should he feel that when he’d been trying to protect his tenderhearted brother who had proven time and again he was too trusting when it came to people who were after his money?

Not that Michael showed his pain at her words by even the flicker of his dark eyelashes. Having grown up poor, in a rough Houston neighborhood near the ship channel, he’d learned to put on a tough mask whenever he felt the slightest weakness. His mother had barely eked out a living as a masseuse before Jacob North had married her and adopted him.

Until Jacob, his mother had gone from man to man, taking whatever they offered to survive. Michael had worked on the docks so he wouldn’t be dependent on such handouts. He’d hated having nothing and being treated like nothing and feeling ashamed of how they’d lived. He’d learned early on that when you didn’t have it, money was everything.

Will, on the other hand, had grown up a rich man’s adored only son. Will had loved everybody, especially his older adopted brother, whom he’d accepted right from the first. Maybe Will was the only person who’d ever loved Michael. He’d promised Jacob, to whom he owed everything, that he would look out for Will. Those feelings of profound responsibility carried over to Will’s unborn child, even if that child’s mother was someone he could never trust.

“If Will dies, Will’s child—your child—will be a North heir. Then there’s the promise I made to my brother. Whether or not you want me in your life, I intend to take a very active interest in that little person from now on.”

“So this is about money and control? My child is nothing more to you than the possible heir to the North fortune.”

Why should he let her know what Will’s child meant to him when she would only use such knowledge against him?

“A fortune does carry a huge responsibility.”

“I’ll bet you’re used to getting your way.”

She was right about that.

Her eyes darkened. “Well, you won’t. Not with me. Never again.”

“We’ll see,” he said. Then he let it drop. He fully intended to win this battle, but he wouldn’t bully the pregnant wife of his injured brother.

“I want you to go,” she said.

“Too bad.”

When he sank down into the chair beside her bed, she glared at him. At his thin smile, she shut her eyes and twisted her face away. As he stared at her stiff back, he knew she couldn’t force him out of her thoughts any more than he could force her out of his. Just being in the same room with her, even when she was injured, disturbed him.

An hour later, she was still rigid and seething when Will’s grim, hollow-eyed surgeon found them.

“Mr. North? Mrs. North?”

When she opened her eyes and met Michael’s, she blushed.

“I’m Will North’s wife,” she said. “Michael North is my brother-in-law.”

“I see. Sorry about the confusion.”

Michael had only to look into the surgeon’s shadowed eyes to know the worst. Will was gone. Slowly Michael stood and shook the man’s hand, listening, asking the appropriate questions, thanking him even as ice closed around his heart.

Bree let out a hoarse sob midway through the surgeon’s detailed explanation.

“Your brother lost a lot of blood at the scene....”

Michael’s vision blurred. He felt himself near some fatal edge. Maybe to steel his own nerves, he concentrated on Bree, whose face had gone as white as her sheets. Leaning over her hospital bed, he took her trembling hand. At his touch, she stiffened. Then, to his surprise, her fingers tightened around his, and she tugged him closer. Grabbing fistfuls of his jacket, she threw her wet face against his broad shoulder and burrowed into it. Clinging to him, she wept soundlessly.

His suit would be a mess tomorrow, but he needed to hold her, needed it more than he had ever imagined needing anything. Despite his own hideous sorrow and the profound gulf that separated them, he was glad Bree was here, glad not to be completely alone with his grief.

“Bree,” he murmured. Careful not to hurt her, his arms closed around her. “It’s going to be okay.”

“You don’t know, so how can you say that?”

“Time has a way—” He broke off, unable to repeat the usual trite phrases people offered one another for comfort.

Strangely, holding her seemed to be enough. Never had he felt more powerfully connected to another human being as her tears rained down his cheek.

After a long time she said, “Tell my mother and Marcie...about Will. Please...” Her voice was choked. “I just can’t.”

“Anything,” he murmured as he let her go. “I’ll do anything you want.”

“Really? Excuse me if I find it hard to believe that the man with no heart is now willing to do anything for me.”

“You’re pregnant with Will’s child, and he’s gone. Everything’s different between us now.”

“Yes. Will’s child,” she repeated softly.

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for Will’s baby, and, therefore, for you.”

Three

The pain meds must have made her daft. Why else would she have agreed to spend the night—no, seven nights—at Will’s loft with Michael?

Because your Victorian brownstone has stairs—three tall flights of them—and no elevator, remember?

The fact that her building had no elevator had never been a problem before. Okay, so she didn’t like elevators or any small, boxy room. With her history, who would?

When she’d been a kid, an older cousin had locked her in a closet and left her there while he’d gone out to play. She’d been hysterical by the time her mother, who’d been busy in the kitchen downstairs, had found her. Every time the doors of an elevator closed Bree remembered Jeremy’s gloating smile right before he’d shut the door and turned out the light.

Bree chewed a nail as Michael jammed the key into the door of Will’s loft apartment in the Village. Maybe if she deliberately goaded Michael, he’d decide looking after her wasn’t worth it.

“I can’t believe, that as frequently as you saw your brother, you’ve never been inside his place before now,” she said.

Michael’s mouth tightened. “What do you know about it?”

She smiled. “Oh—did I hit a nerve?”

“He used to have me to his place on the Upper East Side all the time,” Michael snapped, “but for some reason he didn’t want me dropping by anymore when he moved here. Usually we met at my penthouse or somewhere in the city. I did stop by a couple of times, but he was either just going out or his roommate was home and they were busy. I didn’t understand why he needed a roommate when he could have easily afforded to live alone. When I asked him about it, he said the guy was a good friend who needed a place to stay.”

“R-right,” she said uneasily, deciding to back up Will’s lie. “He...he was still living here when we married.”

“Must have been crowded, you two being newlyweds and all.”

She didn’t like his tone but refused to comment.

When Michael finished unlocking the door, he caught her elbow to usher her inside.

Startled by the fire in even that brief touch, Bree jumped back. How could she feel anything for a man who’d used her and had lied to her? He was the last person she wanted helping her. But he was Will’s brother.

“This really isn’t necessary,” she said, hoping she didn’t sound as nervous as she felt. “You don’t want to be stuck with me any more than I want you here. Why don’t you make it easy on us both and just leave?”

“I’m staying,” he said in a tone that was raw and intense. “You can fight about it. Or you can make the best of it. Your choice.”

The carved lines of his face looked powerful and strong—implacable. She was much too weak, exhausted and woozy from the pain meds to fight him. When he nudged her inside, she let him.

“Whoa!” Michael said, obviously taken aback by the dramatic design of the apartment and its furnishings. “This is truly amazing, totally different than his other place. I didn’t know Will had something like this in him.”

There’s a lot you didn’t know about him.

Strangely, the thought made her feel sorry for Michael.

Tony, who was a top designer and world-famous in certain circles, had put the apartment together. Not Will. The airy rooms with their skylights and soaring ceilings, and dramatic art collection and colorful, minimalistic furnishings screamed Tony.

Not Will, and not her. It wouldn’t be long before Michael picked up on the fact that she hadn’t really lived here.

Maybe there was a piece of paper from city hall that said she and Will were married, but there was very little of her here. A chipped coffee mug or two, a pair of her jeans and panties and a favorite sweater with a cat on it in the single drawer Will had emptied for her.

She’d slept on their couch for a couple of weeks wondering how she’d ever forget Michael and get clear of the mess she’d made of her life because of him. The only two things she’d been sure about were that she wanted her baby and she wanted to get Z’s bistro back on its financial feet. Will had promised to help in every way he could, both personally and financially.

“I really think I’ll be fine on my own here.”

“Hey, we’ve been over that. You heard what the doctor said,” Michael murmured in the same gentle, mesmerizing tone he’d used to seduce her. “You’re pregnant. You have a nasty bump on the head. Your blood pressure is a little low, and you shouldn’t be alone for the next week.”

He almost sounded concerned.

Reminding herself that he didn’t care about her, she also reminded herself that she was okay with that. She refused to care about anybody as cold and unfeeling as him. She stepped farther inside, only to feel truly trapped when he slammed the door, stripped off his expensive jacket and flung it toward the sofa.

“I don’t want you here. You are the last person I want to be with tonight when I feel so utterly miserable.”

“Understood. Ditto.”

“Underline ditto,” she cried.

“But here we are—together.” Grimly, he bolted the various locks from the inside. “It might be dangerous for your baby, my niece or nephew, if I don’t stay. Like you said, your mother has cats, and you’re allergic to them.”

Why was he acting as though he cared?

“From what the papers have said lately, I’d think you’d surely have some gorgeous supermodel waiting in your bed to welcome you home from China,” she muttered, dragging her gaze from his wide shoulders.

After the fund-raiser when she’d been so dazzled by him, she’d researched him online. She’d been dismayed to learn about all the glamorous women he dated. After her one night with him, he’d gone right back to dating those women. How could she have thought he was interested in her that night? The eagerness she’d felt for him and the things she’d done in his bed still mortified her.

His jet brows winged upward in cynical surprise. “Jealous?”

Despite her grief and exhaustion, hot indignation that he’d hit a nerve flared inside her. “Only you, who are so arrogant and sure of yourself, would take it like that.”

“Yeah, only me—the number one ogre in your sweet, innocent life.” His grin was savagely ironic. “You didn’t answer my question, sweetheart. Are you jealous?”

“Don’t be insane! It’s just that I couldn’t help noticing an item or two about you and several models in the gossip columns. Did you go out with them to destroy them, too?”

When a muscle jerked in his jawline, she almost wondered if she’d hurt him. Then she remembered he didn’t have a heart.

After an ominous pause, he said, “There’s no supermodel...if you must know. Hell, there’s nobody waiting, which is pretty normal. So, tell me about you and Will. I was shocked when he told me you were married, especially after you’d told me you weren’t interested in him that way. How did it happen? And when?”

She turned away to hide her eyes, lest she give something away. “He asked me. I said yes. Unlike you, he’s a really nice guy.”

“Which made him perfect prey for a woman like you.”

“You’re wrong. About him and me.” She stopped. There was no way she could defend herself without getting into deeper trouble.

“Forget it,” she said. “I don’t care what you think.”

But she did.

Frowning, Michael paced the length of Will’s dazzling white room with its grand piano and splashes of paintings and sculptures. He stopped abruptly to look at the photographs of Will and Tony on Tony’s piano.

Panic surged through her when he lifted one.

“Who’s the big guy in leather?”

She moved toward the shiny black piano. Not that she had to see the picture up close to know that it was Tony in his trademark black biker attire with rings in his ears. In the photograph, he and Will were toasting Johnny and her at a party at Chez Z. It had been only a few months ago, to celebrate the restaurant’s success. Will had been ecstatic to be part of a successful venture and to share his happiness with Tony.

Tears misted her eyes. How could so much change so fast? How could they both be gone?

“It’s Tony,” she said

“The driver? He was Will’s best friend who died at the scene? He was Will’s roommate, too?”

“And our best man,” she said.

And so much more.

Michael slowly set the picture back on the piano beside the others of Tony and Will with different friends. “Tell me again why you married Will.”

She backed away. “Do we have to talk about this?”

“You asked me about my love life.” A dangerous edge had crept into his soft voice. “Did you want him, my brother, as much as you wanted me?”

It made her sick to remember how much she’d wanted Michael; sick to think that even now he wasn’t entirely unattractive to her. She wanted to believe he wasn’t the man she knew he was, wanted to believe he cared, at least a little. But he’d told her in no uncertain terms how he felt about her, so she steeled herself.

“I married him, didn’t I?”

“Why?”

Because of what you did to me. Because your wonderful, caring brother wanted to help me and take care of me, which was something he knew you’d never do. Because I didn’t know what else to do.

He seemed to sense her vulnerability. Her heart skittered as his large, tanned hand closed over hers, making escape impossible. His dark eyes flashed with alarming passion as he drew her to him.

She averted her gaze from his handsome face. He’d been so cruel, and she’d fought so hard to forget him. Why couldn’t she? He’d only had to walk into her hospital room this afternoon to make her remember how he’d dazzled her.

Then he’d accused her of being a gold digger and worse.

“I’ve thought about you,” he muttered. “Thought about that night, about everything we did and said, even though all I wanted was to forget you. Even now—when I know you were lying about your relationship with Will all along, you still get under my skin.”

Ditto.

Feeling on the verge of a meltdown, she tried to wrench free. It was clear that he’d hated his involvement with her, that he wanted nothing to do with her. And it still hurt—more than it should have, even now when she knew how cold and cruel he was.

When his burning eyes stared into hers, she began to shake because she was terrified he would see her pain and understand how gullible she still was.

He held on to her and drew her closer. “How the hell could you marry my brother?”

Her pulse thrummed. As always when she was in his arms, he aroused forbidden needs.

She had to remember he’d deliberately used her, not caring how he hurt her. He still despised her. She couldn’t trust anything he said or did.

Michael certainly did not deserve the truth.

“Why did you marry him?” he asked again.

“It’s complicated.”

“I’m good at complicated, so tell me. Or better yet, show me,” he whispered.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t you?”

Suddenly his hands were in her hair, stroking the dark silken gold that fell against her nape. His fingertips followed the sensuous curve of her neck before he cupped her chin and lifted her slender face to his, his touch as gentle and seductive as it had been that night.

Frantically, because it would be so easy to lose herself to the emotions that blazed in his eyes, she fought to resist him.

If only he had a real heart. If only she could truly depend on him and didn’t have to be afraid of how she felt. But she knew, and even so, he aroused her.

Her skin burned and her knees went weak. He had only to touch her to make her yearn for his tenderness. Had there been a night since she’d seen him last that she hadn’t ached to have him hold her like this and make her feel loved again? To look at her as he was looking at her now, with eyes that devoured her, adored her?

The craving for all the things only he could make her feel became too much to resist. Without thinking, she arched her back and opened her lips, inviting his mouth to claim hers. His tongue entered her. In an instant, the rightness of his searing kiss, and her hunger, were a thousand times stronger than what she’d experienced before.

She had to fight him. She knew what he was about. But the room was spinning and she was clinging, melting, falling. As he pulled her closer, every feminine cell pulsed with the desire to surrender to him in the hope he felt something deeper than he could admit.

All that mattered was that she’d longed for him, and he’d returned. She felt him, erect with a fierce masculine need he couldn’t hide as he pressed against her. No matter how he’d denied his feelings, there was a raw, elemental truth in his kisses. In that moment she believed he was as helpless as she to fight the explosive chemistry between them.

Again and again he kissed her, leaving her shaken from the bittersweet joy of being with him again. His tongue dipped deeply inside her mouth and sent a tremor through her. When his grip tightened around her waist, she realized he was trembling even more than she was.

Time seemed to slow as he made love to her with his mouth and tongue, as his hands moved down her curves. She’d missed him, though she’d denied it.

She couldn’t deny it now as his hands slid downward to cup her bottom and bring her closer to the powerful, masculine heat of his arousal.

Throwing caution aside, her hands traced over his hard body before sliding inside his waistband. In her desperation she ripped his shirt out of his slacks. But when she caressed his hard abs, he shuddered, let out a savage cry and then tore his lips from hers.

Cursing her softly, he took a step backward, even as he retained a grip on her arm to steady her when she began to sway.

“What’s wrong?” she whispered, aching for more.

“You answered my question,” he said, his cold, flat voice reducing the tenderness and warmth that burned inside her to ashes. “You still want me—which means you married Will for cold, calculating reasons. You are every bit as low as I thought. I’ll never forgive you for using my brother like that. You didn’t care how you were going to hurt him, did you? Not as long as you got what you wanted.”

“What?” In shock, her wild eyes met his icy ones.

Who was using who? How could Michael kiss her like that and then shut her out again just when she felt so passionately aroused and open to him? Just when she believed there might be feelings beneath his passion. Had he really kissed her like that only to prove a point?

She swallowed and fought to find some control within herself, but she was too close to the edge, too vulnerable. She had been through too much today. She wanted Michael, and he despised her.

“I don’t want you. My resistance must be low because they gave me painkillers. I—I didn’t know what I was doing.”

“Well, you can believe that if it makes you feel better,” he began with a calm disdain that chilled her to the marrow. “But you want me, all right.”

Because I’m a human being, and I thought you cared.

“So, do you need help undressing or running a bath?”

“What?” His curt, dismissive change of subject hurt.

Surely she would lose all self-respect if he stripped her and touched her and made her even more aware of him as a man while he regarded her with such cool contempt.

Never again would she let him arouse her deepest feelings and play her for a fool. Never again.

“I can take care of myself,” she snapped, furious. She was weak and injured tonight and that had made her highly susceptible. He’d taken advantage of her.

“Then I suggest you get started,” he said.

“I don’t want to bathe with you here.”

“Then pretend I’m not here.”

“Impossible.”

“The only reason I’m looking after you is because I made a promise to my brother. Trust me, I’ll leave you alone. I didn’t kiss you because I wanted to. I kissed you to find out if you wanted my brother, the poor bastard. You didn’t. So, go in the bedroom, shut the door and get ready for bed.”

How could she stay here with him? How could she pretend he wasn’t here while she undressed, when awareness of him still buzzed in her blood despite his icy disdain?

“While I’m waiting for my turn to shower, I’ll see what there is to eat and make some business calls.”

“Right—the all-important CEO who’s always so busy looking after the North fortune he doesn’t have time to be human.”

“Damn you, I’ve got other things to do besides babysit you. I’ve got work,” he growled. “Lots of it.” Turning his back on her, he pulled out his phone and sank down on the couch.

Infuriating man.

Whoever answered on the other end must have begun by offering his or her condolences immediately because Michael lowered his voice and hunched over the phone, his expression haggard as he talked about Will. So, he wasn’t totally unfeeling. He just didn’t care for her.

Her heart constricted as she heard him going over some checklist about funeral arrangements, and Bree imagined he’d forgotten her. Surrendering to his will, partly because she couldn’t bear to listen as he finalized the details of Will’s memorial service, she padded softly toward Will and Tony’s bedroom.

As she entered it, Michael cupped the receiver. “Don’t lock the door,” he ordered. “If you faint, I’ll need to get in. If I can’t open the door, I’ll break it down. Do we understand each other?”

Exhaustion and frayed nerves and what was left her desire had her so close to the edge she felt like screaming. Or weeping hysterically. “You’re such a brute! I don’t want you here. And I don’t have to do what you say. I don’t! I can’t stand you!”

“We’ve already had this discussion. The doctor released you on the condition you’d remain under my care until your checkup next week because you were spotting. You agreed.”

As if he cares about the baby, she thought dismally.

“Next week!” she moaned aloud. “I was in so much pain, I was out of my mind to agree to a week with you.”

“Bottom line—you agreed,” he said. “So, you’ll damn well do what I say, or I’ll make you!”

She shut the door. Then, thinking about the way he’d kissed her and rejected her—as if she was nothing—she opened the door and then slammed it so hard its frame shook. Not that the childish action gave her any satisfaction.

Her gaze ran over the guys’ bright, modern bedroom. Being in Will and Tony’s private space brought the loss she felt for them to the surface again. They’d been so sweet to her. Feeling confused, grief-stricken and concerned about her unborn baby, she went into their bathroom where she stared at her white, bruised face in the huge, carved mirror they’d told her they’d bought on a recent trip to Oaxaca.

Cuts and purple bruises covered her gray skin. Blood stiffened several locks of her hair. How could she have imagined Michael desired her?

He didn’t want her. He never had, and he certainly didn’t care about her. No, he disliked her. He’d seduced her to drive a wedge between her and Will. Tonight he’d kissed her and used his expertise at lovemaking merely to prove that he had her where he wanted her. His only interest in her had always been using her to protect the North fortune. For that same reason, he was interested in the baby. The baby was his heir.

If only she hadn’t agreed to Will’s plan. Then Michael wouldn’t be here, and she wouldn’t have kissed him again and relearned how powerfully she still felt about him. Nor would she have had to endure realizing how much he despised her.

Choking back a sob, she began to strip.

* * *

Michael couldn’t stop thinking about Bree alone in Will’s bedroom.

Had she and his brother been happy in that bed together? Even though a part of Michael hoped she’d made his brother happy, another more selfish part resented any connubial bliss, however short-lived, she might have shared with Will. Because the idea of her in any other man’s bed, even his brother’s, felt like sacrilege.

She was Michael’s. He wanted her. Kissing her again had taught him how much.

Why was he always attracted to users like her? God, what a mess.

How many endless, bleak hours had passed since she’d slammed the door? With his arms pillowed under his head, he felt restless on this couch from hell that was too short for him. He stared up at the bar of moonlight shifting on the ceiling.

Michael had promised his brother he’d look after Bree. He’d come here intending to honor his promise. What had he done instead? He’d mauled her just because he’d had to know if she still desired him.

She did. Her molten response had almost brought him to his knees.

He had no right to touch her. No matter what else she was, she was his brother’s widow. She’d been injured in a car wreck that had claimed three lives. She was pregnant, and her condition was precarious. For her protection and the baby’s, he had to keep his hands off her.

His eyes grew heavy, but just as he was about to shut them, she screamed. His heart racing with fear, Michael bolted to his feet and raced across the shadowy apartment.

He pushed the door open. “Bree?”

She’d kicked her sheets and blankets aside and was shivering. When she neither cried out nor answered him, he realized she was having a nightmare. His fault, no doubt. She’d been through a lot, and he hadn’t made things easier for her.

His anger forgotten, he rushed to her. The masculine, long-sleeved dress shirt she’d chosen to wear had ridden up to her knees. When he saw the paleness of her bruised face and the dark shadows under her eyes, his concern and the self-loathing for his callous treatment of her grew.

Instead of awakening her, he pulled the covers over her gently. When she continued to tremble, he went to the living room and grabbed his jacket. He draped it over her shoulders. Then, unable to leave her, he sank down onto the bed beside her. After a long moment he began to stroke her hair.

Asleep, she looked young and innocent and completely incapable of deceit. He remembered the blood on his sheets that first night and how virginal she’d seemed when he’d made love to her. He’d never been with anyone who’d seemed so young and fresh and eager for him. Although he’d told himself she’d been a clever actress, he’d been enchanted. He’d almost forgotten that he’d ever considered her opportunistic and out to deceive his naive brother.

When she cried out again and then, drawn by his warmth, cuddled against him, he hardly dared to breathe for fear he’d startle her.

Then her hand slid across his thigh and a flame went through him. In an instant he was as hard as granite.

With her soft body lying against him, it was much too easy to forget why he should dislike her, much too easy to remember the heat of her response.

“Michael,” she whispered. “Michael.”

“I’m here,” he said, worried that he’d awakened her somehow.

“I’m...baby...I’m having a baby. Wanted to tell you...but didn’t know how.”

“It’s okay.” He looked down at her.

Her lashes were shut. He relaxed when he realized she was only talking in her sleep.

“I know about the baby,” he said. “It’s all right.”

“I wanted you to be happy about it.”

“I am happy about it.”

He was happy his brother had left something of himself behind. At the same time, illogically, he wished she’d never been involved with Will.

Unable to resist the temptation to touch her and reassure her, he placed his hand on her shoulder. Then very gently he brushed his lips to her forehead.

“Don’t be afraid,” he whispered. “I won’t let anybody hurt you...or your baby. I swear.”

In her sleep, she smiled. “I know. You just pretend...to be mean and awful and greedy.”

The wistful tenderness in her voice touched his heart. As before, she smelled of strawberries, making him remember how slick and tight she’d been, how she’d cried out at his first stroke—just as a virgin would have—but then had refused to let him stop. She’d felt so perfect. She’d been so sweet.

The memories had him burning up. His every muscle felt tight. The blood on his sheets had been real. He’d been her first. She hadn’t been lying about that as he’d tried to make himself believe. No matter what she was, that had to mean something.

He wanted to pull her closer, to hold her, to ask her why she’d never slept with anyone before him. But more than that, damn it, he wanted to make love to her again.

What was he thinking? Why did he care so deeply for this woman who’d only wanted his brother’s money?

He had to get up and separate himself from her before he lost all control and kissed her and woke her...and risked jeopardizing her health and the baby’s.

Gritting his teeth against the pain of leaving her, he eased himself to the other side of the big bed. Then he got up and went to the window where he stood for a long time, staring down at the glittering rooftops of the Village. Not that he really saw the sparkling lights or the buildings in the moonlight.

He couldn’t let himself feel so much for this woman.

When his breathing eased, he walked over to Will’s easy chair beside the bed and sat down. He intended to stay only a minute or two, but Bree’s sweet nearness eased the savage demons that rode him.

No matter what she was, no way could he leave her alone to deal with her nightmares.

Before he knew it he was fast asleep.

* * *

An alarm buzzed in her ear. When she moaned and rolled over onto soft, downy pillows, her throbbing head felt foggy. Every bone in her body, indeed every muscle she had, screamed in pain. Where had this headache from hell come from?

She let out a smothered cry and sat up. What was wrong with her? Why did everything hurt?

“You okay?” growled a deep, protective voice from above her.

In confusion she blinked up at the tall, broad-shouldered man towering over her. “Michael?”

What was he doing in her bedroom?

Confused, she scanned the bright paintings on the walls. No, she was in Will and Tony’s bedroom.

As Michael’s black eyes continued their blazing appraisal, she blushed at the intimacy of awakening in yet another bedroom with him.

How long had he been watching her? What was she doing here with him?

In the next instant his tense, brooding expression had her flashing back to him sitting beside her in the hospital. She remembered the SUV careening across the median straight at her. Tony had been unable to maneuver into another lane. They’d been hit and had rolled. Will’s limp body had crushed hers.

He hadn’t made it.

The loss of Will, as fresh as yesterday, slammed into her anew. Sinking into Will’s pillow with a shudder, she groaned and buried her face in her hands. Dear, dear Will, who’d become her best friend after Johnny’s death, was gone.

Will had been closer to her than most brothers were to their sisters. And now, because desperate circumstances had forced her to agree to marry him, she was stuck with his brother.

“It was so nice before I saw you and remembered...about Will and Tony and everything that’s happened,” she said. “Reality sucks,” she said mournfully.

Michael’s black eyes darkened, if that were possible. “I know. There’s always that first moment when you wake up...before you remember. Before the horror hits you.”

“I don’t want to get up and face a day without them,” she said. “I don’t want to be in their apartment.”

“Their apartment?”

“I...I mean Will’s apartment,” she corrected quickly. “Ours. I don’t want to remember...any of it or try to go on. It’s too hard.”

“Tell me about it. But we don’t have any choice. We have responsibilities.”

He sounded nice, almost human. But he wasn’t. She had to remember that.

Michael must have grabbed her phone from the nightstand and shut off her alarm because the noise suddenly stopped.

“Do you want coffee?” he asked abruptly.

When she nodded, he vanished.

She was rubbing her eyes when he returned a few minutes later with a steaming mug. “What time is it anyway?”

When he held out the mug, she sat up straighter, causing something to fall from her shoulders.

His jacket. What was his jacket doing wrapped around her? The thought of him worrying about her and watching over her was oddly unsettling.

“It’s 9:00 a.m.,” he said, picking up his badly wrinkled jacket and folding it under his arm.

On a normal day she would be at the bistro, preparing for the day, but because of her injuries and the spotting, she wasn’t supposed to work for a whole week. Her mother had volunteered to take over for her. So, here she was, stuck with Michael.

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