Six of the Best Desire 2016

His Pregnant Princess Bride

Catherine Mann

Saying Yes to the Boss

Andrea Laurence

Take Me, Cowboy

Maisey Yates

Trapped with the Tycoon

Jules Bennett

The Rancher’s Marriage Pact

Kristi Gold

The Rancher Returns

Brenda Jackson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

His Pregnant Princess Bride

Introduction

About the Author

Dedication

Prologue

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Extract

Saying Yes to the Boss

Introduction

About the Author

Dedication

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Extract

Take Me, Cowboy

Introduction

About the Author

Dedication

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Extract

Trapped with the Tycoon

Introduction

About the Author

Dedication

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Epilogue

Extract

The Rancher’s Marriage Pact

Introduction

About the Author

Dedication

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Extract

The Rancher Returns

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

About the Author

Dedication

Prologue

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

His Pregnant Princess Bride

Catherine Mann

Erika wasn’t at all what he expected when he’d spotted a foreign princess on the guest list.

He’d envisioned either a stiff-necked dignitary or a football groupie bent on a photo op and a chance to meet his players. He didn’t come across many people who dared tell him they didn’t like football.

How contrary that her disinterest in his world made her all the more appealing. Yes, she aroused him in a way he couldn’t recall having felt about any woman before.

And quite possibly some of that allure had to do with the fact that for once in his life he wasn’t under the scrutiny of the American media.

Perhaps if he was careful he could do something impulsive without worrying about the consequences rippling through his family’s world.

* * *

His Pregnant Princess Bride

is part of the Bayou Billionaires series—Secrets and scandal are a Cajun family legacy for the Reynaud brothers!

USA TODAY bestselling author CATHERINE MANN lives on a sunny Florida beach with her flyboy husband and their four children. With more than forty books in print in over twenty countries, she has also celebrated wins for both a RITA® Award and a Booksellers’ Best Award. Catherine enjoys chatting with readers online—thanks to the wonders of the internet, which allows her to network with her laptop by the water! Contact Catherine through her website, www.catherinemann.com, find her on Facebook and Twitter (@CatherineMann1) or reach her by snail mail at PO Box 6065, Navarre, FL 32566, USA.

To my dear friend and former neighbour from Louisiana—Karen.

Thank you for all the Mardi Gras cakes and celebrations!

Prologue

“I have to confess, I don’t care for the football at all.”

Princess Erika’s declaration caught Gervais Reynaud off guard, considering they’d spent the past four hours in the private viewing box overlooking Wembley Stadium, where his team would be playing a preseason exhibition game two months from now.

As the owner of the New Orleans Hurricanes NFL team, Gervais had more important things to do than indulge this high-maintenance Nordic princess he’d been seated beside during today’s event, a high-stakes soccer match that was called “football” on this side of the globe. A game she didn’t even respect regardless of which country played. Had it been sexist of him to think she might actually enjoy the game, since she was a royal, serving in her country’s army? He’d expected a military member to be athletic. Not unreasonable, right? She was definitely toned under that gray, regimented uniform decorated with gold braid and commendations.

But she was also undoubtedly bored by the game.

And while Gervais didn’t enjoy soccer as much as American football, he respected the hell out of it. The athletes were some of the best in the world. His main task for today had been to scout the stadium, to see what it would be like for the New Orleans Hurricanes when they played here in August. He’d staked his business reputation on the team he owned, a move his financial advisers had all adamantly opposed. There were risks, of course. But Gervais had never backed away from a challenge. It went against his nature. And now his career was tied to the success of the Hurricanes. The media spotlight had always been intense for him because of his family name. But after he’d purchased the franchise, the media became relentless.

Previewing the Wembley Stadium facilities at least offered him a welcome weekend of breathing room from scrutiny, since the UK fan base for American football was nominal. Here, he could simply enjoy a game without a camera panning to his face or reporters circling him afterward.

He only wished he could be watching the Hurricanes play today. He’d put one of his brothers in charge of the team as head coach. Another brother ran the team on the field in the quarterback position. Sportswriters back in the United States implied he’d made a colossal mistake.

Playing favorites? Clearly, they didn’t know the Reynauds.

He wouldn’t have chosen from his family unless they were the best for the job. Not when purchasing this team provided his chance to forge his own path as more than just part of the Reynaud extended-family empire of shipping moguls and football stars.

But to do that successfully, he had to play the political game with every bit as much strategy as the game on the field. As a team owner, he was the face of the Hurricanes. Which meant putting up with a temperamental princess who hadn’t grasped that the “football team” he owned wasn’t the one on the field. Not that she seemed to care much one way or the other.

Sprawled on the white leather sofa, Gervais tossed a pigskin from hand to hand, the ball a token gift from the public relations coordinator who’d welcomed him today and shown him to the private viewing box. The box was emptying now that the clock ran out after the London club beat another English team in the FA Cup Final. “You don’t like the ball?”

She waved an elegant hand, smoothing over her pale blond hair sleeked back in a flawless twist. “No, not that. Perhaps my English is not as good as I would wish,” she said with only the slightest hint of an accent. She’d been educated well, speaking with an intonation that was unquestionably sexy, even as she failed to notice the kind of football he held was different than the one they’d used on the field. “I do not care for the game. The football game.”

“Interesting choice, then, for your country to send you as the royal representative to a finals match.” Damn, she was too beautiful for her own good, wearing that neat-fitting uniform and filling it out in all the right places. Just looking at her brought to mind her heritage—her warrior princess ancestors out in battle side by side with badass Vikings—although this Nordic princess had clearly been suffering in regal silence for the past four hours. The way she’d dismissed her travel assistant had Gervais thinking he wouldn’t even bother playing the diplomat with this ice princess.

“So, Princess Erika, were you sent here as punishment for some bad-girl imperial infraction?”

And if so, why wasn’t she leaving now that the game had ended? What held her here, sipping champagne and talking to him after the box cleared? More important, what kept him here when he had a flight planned for tonight?

“First of all, I am not a reigning royal.” Her icy blue eyes were as cool as her icy homeland as she set down her crystal champagne flute. “Our monarchy has been defunct for over forty-five years. And even if it was not, I am the youngest of five girls. And as for my second point, comments like yours only confirm my issue with attending a function like this where you assume I must be some kind of troublemaker if I don’t enjoy this game. I must be flawed. No offense meant, but you and I simply have different interests.”

“Then why are you here?” He wanted to know more than he should.

The PR coordinator for the stadium had introduced them only briefly and he found himself hungry to know more about this intriguing but reticent woman.

“My mother was not happy with my choice to join the military, even though if I were a male that would not be in question. She is concerned I am not socializing enough and that I will end up unmarried, since clearly my worth is contingent upon having babies.” Rolling her eyes, she crossed her long, slim legs at the ankles, her arms elegantly draped on the white leather chair. “Ridiculous, is it not, considering I am able to support myself? Besides, most of my older sisters are married and breeding like raccoons.”

“Like rabbits.”

She arched a thin blond eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“The phrase is breeding like rabbits.” Gervais couldn’t quite smother a grin as the conversation took an interesting turn.

“Oh, well, that is strange.” She frowned, tapping her upper lip with a short, neat fingernail. “Rabbits are cute and fuzzy. Raccoons are less appealing. I believe raccoons fit better,” she said as if merely stating it could change a colloquialism on her say-so.

“You don’t like kids?” he found himself asking, even though he could have stood and offered to walk her out and be done with any expectation of social nicety.

When was the last time he exchanged more than a few words with a woman outside of business? He could spend another minute talking to her.

“I do not believe I must have a dozen heirs to make a defunct monarchy stable.”

Hmm, valid point and an unexpected answer. “So I take that to mean you’re no threat to hitting on the players?”

Down on the field, the winning team was being mobbed.

“You assume correctly,” she blurted so quickly and emphatically, she startled a laugh from him.

It was refreshing to find a woman who wasn’t a sports groupie for a change.

He found himself staying behind to talk to her even though he had a flight to catch. “What do you do in the military?”

“I am a nurse by degree but the military uses my skills as a linguist. In essence, I’m a diplomatic translator.”

“Say again?”

“Is that so shocking? Do I not appear intelligent?”

She appeared hot as hell, like a blue flame, the most searing of all.

“You’re lovely and articulate. You speak English fluently as a second language. You’re clearly intelligent.”

“And you are a flatterer,” she said dismissively. “I work as a translator, but now that I’m nearing the end of my time in military service, I’ll be taking the RN degree a step further, becoming a nurse-practitioner, with a specialty in homeopathic treatments, using natural herbs and even scents, studying how they relate to moods and physiological effects. Stress relievers. Energy infusers. Or immune boosters. Or allergy relievers. Any number of combinations to combine an alluring perfume with a healthier lifestyle.”

“Where do you study that?”

“I’ve been accepted into a program in London. I had hoped to pursue nursing in the military to increase my experience, but my government had other plans for me to be a translator.”

A nurse, soon to become a nurse-practitioner? Now, that surprised him. “Very impressive.”

“Thank you.” She nodded regally, a lock of hair sliding free from her twist and caressing her cheek. She tucked it behind her ear. “Now, explain to me what I need to know to speak intelligently about what I saw down on the field with all those musclemen when I return home.”

Standing, he extended an arm to her. “By all means, Princess, I know a little something about European football even though the team I own is an American football team.”

She rose with the elegance of a woman who’d been trained in every manner to grace high-end ballrooms not ball games. And yet she chose to further her education and serve her country in uniform.

Princess-Captain Erika Mitras wasn’t at all what he expected when he’d spotted a foreign dignitary on the guest list. He’d envisioned either a stiff-necked VIP or a football groupie bent on a photo op and a chance to meet the players. He didn’t come across many people who dared tell him they didn’t like football—European or American. In fact, he didn’t have many people in his life who disliked sports. The shipping business might be the source of Reynaud wealth, but football had long been their passion.

How contrary that her disinterest in sports made her all the more appealing. Yes, she aroused him in a way he couldn’t recall having felt about any woman before.

And quite possibly some of that allure had to do with the fact that for once in his life he wasn’t under the scrutiny of the American media. Perhaps if he was careful, he could do something impulsive without worrying about the consequences rippling through his family’s world.

He stepped closer, folding her hand into the crook of his arm, and caught a whiff of a cinnamon scent. “And while I do that, what do you say we enjoy London? Dinner, theater, your choice. Just the two of us.”

Flights could be rescheduled.

She paused to peer up at him, her cool blue eyes roaming his face for a moment before the barest hint of a smile played over her lips. “Only if, after a brief outline of the differences in these football sports, we can agree to no football talk at all?”

“None,” he vowed without hesitation.

“Then it sounds lovely.”

Who knew cinnamon would be such a total turn-on?

One

2 ½ Months Later

New Orleans, Louisiana

Princess Erika Birgitta Inger Freya Mitras of Holsgrof knew how to make a royally memorable appearance.

Her mother had taught her well. And Erika needed all the confidence she could garner striding onto the practice field full of larger-than-life men in training. Most important, she needed all her confidence to face one particular man. The leader of this testosterone domain, the owner of the state-of-the-art training facility where he now presided. Players dotted the field in black-and-gold uniforms, their padded shoulders crashing against each other. Shouts, grunts and curses volleyed. Men who appeared to be trainers or coaches jogged alongside them, barking instructions or blowing whistles.

She’d finished her military stint a month ago, her hopes of serving her country in combat having been sidelined by her parents’ interference. They’d shuffled her into some safe figurehead job that made her realize the family’s Viking-warrior heritage would not be carried on through her. She’d been so disillusioned, adrift and on edge the day she attended the soccer game, she had been reckless.

Too reckless. And that weekend of indulgence brought her here. Now. To New Orleans. To Gervais.

Her Jimmy Choo heels sank into the most plush grass ever as she stepped onto the practice field of the New Orleans Hurricanes. She’d assumed this particularly American game was played on Astroturf. And assumptions were what she had to avoid when it came to her current adventure in the United States.

She had not intended to see Gervais Reynaud again after he left the United Kingdom. Their weekend of dates—and amazing, mind-blowing sex—had been an escape from rules and protocol and everything else that had kept her life rigidly in check for so long. She’d had relationships in the past, carefully chosen and approved. This was her first encounter of her own choosing.

And it had turned out to be far more memorable than she could have ever imagined.

She felt the weight of his eyes from across the open stretch of greenery. Or perhaps he had noticed her only because of the sudden silence. Players now stood still, their shouts dimming to a dull echo.

The rest of the place faded for her while she focused on Gervais Reynaud standing at the foot of the bleachers, as tall as any of the players. He was muscular, more so than the average man but more understated than the men in uniform nearby. She knew he had played in his youth and through college but had chosen a business route in the family’s shipping enterprise until he had bought the New Orleans Hurricanes football team. The American football team. She understood the difference now. She also knew Gervais’s purchase of the team had attracted a great deal of press coverage in business and sports media alike.

He had not told her much about his life, but before she made her trip here she had made a point of learning more about him and his family.

It certainly was amazing what a few internet searches could reveal.

Tracing their ancestry deep into Acadian history, the Reynaud family first built their fortune in shipping, a business that his grandfather patriarch Leon Reynaud had expanded into a thriving cruise ship company. Leon also turned a love of sports into another successful venture when he’d purchased shares in a Texas football team, learning the business from the inside out. His elder son, Christophe, inherited the shares but promptly sold them to buy a baseball team, creating a deep family rift.

Leon passed his intense love of football to his younger son, Theo, whose promising career as a quarterback in Atlanta was cut short due to injury and excess after his marriage to a celebrated supermodel fell apart. Theo had three sons from his marriage, Gervais, Henri and Jean-Pierre, and one from an earlier affair, Dempsey. All of the sons inherited a passion for the game, playing in college and groomed for the NFL.

While the elder two sons broke ties with their father to bring corporate savvy to the front office of the relatively new team, the younger two sons both continued their careers on the field. The Reynaud brothers were especially well-known in Louisiana, where their football exploits were discussed—as much a topic of conversation as the women in their lives. She’d overheard references to each in the lobby of the five-star hotel where she’d spent the night in New Orleans.

Would she be the topic of such conversation once her “encounter” with Gervais became public knowledge? There would be no way to hide it from his football world much longer.

Football. A game she still cared very little about, a fact he had teased her about during their weekend together, a weekend where they had spent more time undressed than clothed. Her gaze was drawn back to that well-honed body of his that had made such passionate love to her.

His dark eyes heated her with memories as he strode toward her. His long legs ate the ground in giant slices, his khakis and sports jacket declaring him in the middle of a workday. He stopped in front of her, his broad shoulders blocking the sun and casting his handsome face in shadows. But she didn’t have to see to know his jaw would be peppered with the stubble that seemed to grow in seconds after he shaved. Her fingers—her body—remembered the texture of that rasp well.

Her breath caught somewhere in her chest.

He folded his arms over his chest, just under the Hurricanes logo stitched on the front of his jacket. “Welcome to the States, Erika. No one mentioned your intention to visit. I thought you didn’t like sports.”

“And yet, here I am.” And in need of privacy out of the bright Louisiana sun and the even brighter curious eyes of his team and staff. She needed space and courage to tell him why she’d made this unexpected journey across the Atlantic to this muggy bayou state. “This is not an official royal visit.”

“And you’re not in uniform.” His eyes glided over her wraparound dress.

“I’m out of the service now to begin furthering my studies.” About to return to school to be a nurse-practitioner, the career field she’d hoped to pursue in the military, but they would not allow her such an in-the-field position, instead preferring to dress her up and trot her around as a figurehead translator. “I am here for a conference on homeopathic herbs and scents.” A part of her passion in the nursing field, and a totally made-up excuse for being here today.

“The homeopathic scents for healing, right? Are you here to share specially scented deodorant with my players? Because they could certainly use it.” His mouth tipped with a smile.

“Are you interested in such a line?” Still jet-lagged from the transatlantic flight, she was ill prepared to exchange pleasantries, much less ones filled with taunts at her career choice.

“Is that why you are here? For business before you start your new degree?”

She could not just banter with him. She simply could not. “Please, can we go somewhere private to talk?”

He searched her eyes for a long moment before gesturing over his shoulder. “I’m in the middle of a meeting with sponsors. How about supper?”

“I am not here for seduction,” she stated bluntly.

“Okay.” His eyebrows shot upward. “I thought I asked you to join me for gumbo not sex. But now that we’re talking about sex—”

“We are not.” She cut him short. “Finish your meeting if you must, but I need to speak with you as soon as possible. Privately. Unless you want your personal business and mine overheard by all of your team straining to listen.”

She definitely was not ready for them to hear she was pregnant with the heir to the Reynaud family dynasty.

* * *

She was back. Princess Erika, the sexy seductress who’d filled his dreams since they’d parted ways nearly three months ago. And even though he should be paying attention to the deal with his sponsors, he could not tear his eyes away from her. From the swish of her curves and hips. And the long platinum-blond hair that made her look completely otherworldly.

He needed to focus, but damn. She was mesmerizing.

And apparently, every team member on the field was also aware of that fact. From their top wide receiver Wildcard to running back Freight Train.

Gervais turned his attention back to finishing up his conversation with the director of player personnel—Beau Durant—responsible for draft picks, trades, acquiring the right players and negotiating contracts. An old college friend, Beau shared his friend’s interest in running a football team. He took a businesslike, numbers approach to the job and wed that with his personal interest in football. Like Gervais, he had a position in his family’s multinational corporation, but football was his obsession.

“Gervais, I’d love to stay and chat, but we have another meeting to get to. We’ll be in touch,” his former college roommate promised.

“Perfect, Beau. Thank you,” he said, offering him a sincere handshake. Beau’s eyes were on the princess even if he didn’t ask the obvious question. Beau was an all-business kind of guy who never pried. He’d always said he didn’t want others sticking their noses in his private life, either.

The eyes of the whole damn team remained on the princess, in fact. Which made Gervais steam with protectiveness.

He barked over to his half brother, the head coach, “Dempsey, don’t your boys have something better to do than stand around drooling over a woman like pimply teenage boys?”

Dempsey smirked. “All right, men. Back to practice. You can stare at pretty girls on someone else’s time. Now, move!” Henri Reynaud, the Hurricanes’ quarterback and Gervais’s brother, shot him a look of half amusement. But he slung his helmet back on and began to make his way into formation. The Bayou Bomber, a nickname Henri had earned during his college days at LSU, would not be so easily dissuaded from his obvious curiosity.

Dempsey scratched some numbers out on his paper. Absently, he asked, “What’s with the royal visit?”

“We have some...unresolved issues from our time in England.”

“Your time together?” Dempsey’s wicked grin spread, and he clucked his tongue.

He might as well come clean in an understated way. The truth would be apparent soon enough. “We had a quiet...relationship.”

“Very damn quiet if I didn’t hear about it.” Crossing his arms, he did his best to look hurt.

“You were busy with the team. As it should be.”

“So you have some transcontinental dating relationship with Europe’s most eligible princess?”

“Reading the tabloids again, Dempsey?”

“Gotta keep up with my players’ antics somehow.” He shrugged it off.

“Well, don’t let her hear you discussing her eligibility. She’s military. She might well be able to kick your ass.”

“Military, huh? That’s surprising.”

“She said male royals serve. Why not females? She just finished up her time.” Which had seemed to bother her. He understood well about trying to find where you fit in a high-profile family.

“Carole Montemarte, the Hurricanes’ press relations coordinator, will have a blast spinning that for the media. Royalty for a girlfriend? Nice, dude. And she chased you clear across the ocean. You are quite the man.”

Except that didn’t make sense. She’d ignored his calls after he left the country. Granted, what they’d shared blew his mind, and he didn’t have the time or energy for a transcontinental relationship. So his calls had been more...obligatory. Had she known that? Was that the reason she’d ignored him?

So why show up here now?

He sure as hell intended to find out.

Two

Limos were something of the norm for Erika. Part of the privilege of growing up royal. This should feel normal, watching the sunset while being chauffeured in the limo Gervais had sent to retrieve her from her hotel. Half of her childhood had been spent in the backseat of a limo as she and her family went from one event to another.

But today was anything but normal. As she pulled at the satin fabric of her dress, her mind began to race. She had never pictured herself with a brood of children like her sisters. Not that she didn’t want them, but this was all happening so fast. And with a man she wasn’t entirely sure of. Just the thought of Gervais sent her mind reeling. The thought of telling him about their shared interest made her stomach knot. She began to wonder about what she would tell him. How she would tell him. News she could barely wrap her brain around. But there were secrets impossible to keep in her world, so if she wanted to inform Gervais on her terms, she would have to do so soon.

Tonight.

And just like that, Erika realized the vehicle had stopped. Reality was starting to set in, and no amount of finery and luxury was going to change that. She had chosen the arctic-blue dress because it reminded her of her heritage. Of her family’s Viking past. Of the strength of her small country. She needed these reminders if she was going to face him.

Try as she might, Erika couldn’t get the way he looked at her out of her mind. His eyes drinking her in. The memory sent a pleasurable shiver along her skin.

The chauffeur opened the door with a click, and she stepped out of the limo. Tall and proud. A light breeze danced against her skin, threatening her sideswept updo. Fingers instinctively flew to the white-crusted sapphire pin that, at the nape of her neck, not only held her hair together but also had been in her family for centuries.

Smoothing her blond hair that cascaded over one of her shoulders, she took in the Reynaud family compound in the meeting of sunset with the moon, the stars just beginning to sparkle in the Louisiana sky. Though she had to admit, the flood of lights leading up to the door diminished the starlight.

She lifted her gaze to the massive structure ahead of her. Greek Revival with white arches and columns—no other word than massive, and a girl who grew up in a palace wasn’t impressed easily.

As she walked up the stairs to the home, the sureness from touching her family heirloom began to wane. But before she could lose her nerve and turn back, the limo pulled away and the grand door opened in front of her. This was officially happening.

Though the lights outside had been clinical and bright, the foyer was illuminated by bulbs of yellow. The warmth of these lights reflected on what appeared to be hand-painted murals depicting a fox hunt. American royalty.

A servant gestured for her to walk through the room on the left. Gathering the skirt of her dress, Erika crossed the threshold, leaving behind the foyer and its elaborate staircase and murals.

This room was made for entertainment. She had been in plenty of grand dining halls, and this one felt familiar and impersonal, with wisps of silk that told their secrets to the glass and windows.

Erika had always hated dinners in rooms like this.

Quickly scanning the room, she noted the elaborately carved wooden chair and the huge arrangements of flowers and the tall marble vases. But Gervais wasn’t here, either.

She pressed on through the next threshold and found herself in a simpler room. It was clear that this was a family room. The opulent colors of the grand dining room softened, giving way to a creamy palette. The kind of colors that made Erika want to curl up on the plush leather sofa with a good book and some strong tea with milk.

The family room sported an entertainment bar with Palladian windows overlooking the pool and grounds. But if she turned ever so slightly she could also see an alcove that appeared to lead to a more private section.

The master bedroom and bath? She could envision that space having doors out to the pool, a hot tub, perhaps. She bit her lip and spun away.

It was not as if she was here to gawk at furniture. She had to tell a man she barely knew that they were having a baby. And that the press would have a field day if she and Gervais didn’t get a handle on this now.

And there. She saw him. Chiseled. Dark hair, ruffled ever so slightly. His lips parted into a smile as he met her gaze.

Nerves and something else jolted her to life. Pushed her forward. Toward him and that wolfish smile.

She looked around and saw housekeeping staff, but no one else. Erika waved an elegant hand to the expansive room they stood in and the ones she’d already passed through. “Where’s the rest of your family?”

“Dempsey owns the other home on the compound grounds, next door. My younger brothers Jean-Pierre and Henri share the rights to the house to the northwest on the lake. Gramps has quarters here with me, since this house has been in our family the longest. It’s familiar. He has servants on call round the clock. He’s getting older and more forgetful. But we’re hoping to hold back time as long as we can for him.”

“I am so sorry.”

“They make great meds these days. He’s still got lots of life and light left in him.” A practiced smile pressed against his lips. It was apparent he was hopeful. And used to defending his grandfather’s position.

“And where does the rest of your family live?”

“Are you worried they’ll walk in on us?” He angled a brow upward, and she felt the heat of his eyes graze across her body. A flush crept along her face, heating her from the inside out. Threatening to set her nerves bounding out of control. She needed to stay calm.

“Perhaps.”

“My father’s in Texas and doesn’t return often. Jean-Pierre is in New York with his team for the season and Henri lives in the Garden District most of the time, so their house here is vacant for a while.”

Stepping out onto the patio, he nodded for her to follow. She hastened behind him. Intrigued. He had that way about him. A quality of danger that masked itself as safe. That quality that made him undeniably sexy.

And that, she reminded herself, was how she’d ended up in this situation.

Gervais surveyed the patio. She followed his gaze, noting the presence of a hot tub and an elaborate fountain that pumped water into the pool. The fountain, like the house, was descended from a Greek aesthetic. Apollo and Daphne were intertwined, water flowing from the statues into the pool.

Over the poolside sound system, the din of steel drums competed with the gentle echo of rolling waves on the lakeshore.

“You arranged dinner outside.” Erika breathed in the air on this rare night of low humidity. She looked around at the elaborate patio table that was dressed for dinner with lights, fresh flowers, silver and china. Ceiling fans circled a delicious breeze from the slight overhang of the porch.

“I promised you gumbo—” he gestured broadly, before holding the seat out for her “—and I delivered.”

She settled into the chair, intensely aware of his hands close to her shoulders. The heat of his chest close to her back. Blinking away the awareness, she focused on the table settings, surprised to realize he planned to serve her himself from the silver chafing dishes. “Your home is lovely.”

“The old plantation homes have a lot of character.” He slid into the seat across from hers. “I know our history here doesn’t compete with the hundreds of years, castles and Viking lore of your country, but the place has stories in the walls all the same.”

“The architecture and details are stunning. I can see why you were drawn to live here.” When Americans talked about their colonial towns, they always spoke of the old-world charm they’d possessed. But that was selling it short. Cities like New Orleans were the distillation of cultures haphazardly pressed against each other. And that distillation yielded beauty that was so different from the actual Old World.

“If you would prefer a restaurant...” He paused, tongs grasping freshly baked bread.

“This is better. More private.” She held up a hand. “Don’t take that the wrong way.”

“Understood. You made your point earlier.”

Seafood gumbo, red beans and rice, thick black coffee and powdery doughnuts—beignets. It was a spread that sent her taste buds jumping.

“Did you have a nice ride from the Four Winds Resort?”

“I did. The trees heavy with Spanish moss are beautiful. And the water laps at the roads as if the sea could wash over the land at any moment.” The languid landscape was so different than her country’s rugged and fierce Viking past. She’d liked learning about New Orleans so far.

“You could stay here, you know.”

“I did not come here for that.” She laced her words with ice even as her body burned with awareness of the man seated across from her.

“Then why are you here after walking out on me without a word or backward glance?”

So that hadn’t escaped his notice. She began to prepare the speeches that had replayed in her mind since she had boarded the plane to make the transatlantic journey.

“I’m sorry about that. I thought I was making things easier for both of us. It was a fling with no future, given we live across an ocean from each other. I saved us both a messy goodbye.”

At that time she had been thinking about the life she needed to get on track. But all her carefully laid plans were shifting beneath her feet, now that she was pregnant.

“And when I called you? Left messages asking to speak to you?”

“I thought you were being polite. Gentlemanly. And do not get me wrong, I believe it honorable of you. But that is not enough to build a relationship.”

“How much would it have hurt to return one call? If we’re talking about polite, I expected as much from you.” He cocked an eyebrow.

“You are angry. I apologize if I made the wrong decision.”

“Well, you’re here now. For your conference, right?”

“Actually, that wasn’t the truth.” She fidgeted with her leather band bracelet, inspirational inscriptions scrolled on metal insets providing support. Advice. And if ever she was in need of help, the moment was now. “I only said that in case others overheard. I’m here to see you. I want to apologize for walking out on you and have a conversation we should have had then.”

“What conversation would that be?”

Oh, what a loaded question, she thought. “How we would handle it if there were unexpected consequences from our weekend together.”

He stared at her, hard. “Unexpected consequences? How about you spell it out rather than have me play Fifty Questions.”

She dabbed the corners of her mouth as if she could buy herself a few more seconds before her life changed forever. Folding the napkin carefully and placing it beside her plate, she met his dark brown eyes, her own gaze steady. Her hands shaky. “I am pregnant. The baby is yours.”

* * *

Of all the things that Erika could have said, being pregnant was not what Gervais had been preparing himself for. He ought to say something. Something fast, witty and comforting. But instead, he just looked at her.

Really looked at her as he swallowed. Hard.

She was every bit as breathtaking as that first night they’d met. But there was something different in the way she carried her body that should have tipped him off.

Her face was difficult to read. She’d iced him out of gaining any insights in her eyes. Gervais examined the hair that trailed down her shoulder, exposing her collarbone and slender neck. This was the hairstyle of a royal, so different than the girl who had let her hair run wild over their weekend together.

And what a weekend it’d been. Months had passed since then and he still thought about her. About the way she’d tasted on his tongue.

He had to say something worthy of that. Of her. He collected his thoughts, determined to say the perfect thing.

Despite all of that, only one word fell out of his mouth.

“Pregnant.” So much for a grand speech.

Her face flashed with a hint of disappointment. Of course, she had every right to expect more from him. But more silence escaped his lips, and the air was filled not with sounds of him speaking, but with the buzz of waves and boats.

The trace of frustration and disappointment had left her face. She looked every bit a Viking queen. Impassive. Strong. Icy. And still so damn sexy in her soft feminine clothes and that bold leather bracelet.

“Yes, and I am absolutely certain the child is yours.”

“I didn’t question you.”

“I wanted to be clear. Although in these days of DNA tests, it is not a subject that one can lie about.” She frowned. “Do you need time to think, for us to talk more later? You look pale.”

Did he? Hell, he did feel as if he’d been broadsided by a three-hundred-pound linebacker, but back in his ballplaying days he’d been much faster at recovery. And the stakes here were far higher. He needed to tread carefully. “A child is always cause for celebration.” He took her hand in his, as close as he could let himself get until he had answers, no matter how tempted he was for more. “I’m just surprised. We were careful.”

“Not careful enough, apparently. You, um, did stretch the condom, and perhaps there was a leak.”

He choked on a cough. “Um, uh...I don’t know what to say to that.”

“It was not a compliment, you Cro-Magnon.” She shook her hand free from his. “Simply an observation.”

“Fair enough. Okay, so you’re pregnant with my baby. When do you want to head to the courthouse to get married?”

“Are you joking? I did not come to the United States expecting a proposal of marriage.”

“Well, that is what I am offering. Would you prefer I do this in a more ceremonial way? Fine.” He slid from his chair and dropped to one knee on the flagstone patio. “Marry me and let’s bring up this child together.”

Her eyes went wide with shock and she shot to her feet. Looking around her as if to make sure no one overheard. “Get up. You look silly.”

“Silly?”

For the first time since he’d met her, she appeared truly flustered. She edged farther away, sweeping back her loose hair with nervous hands. “Perhaps I chose the wrong word. You look...not like you. And this is not what I want.”

“What do you want?”

“I am simply here to notify you about your child and discuss if you wish to be a part of the baby’s life before I move forward with my life.”

“Damn straight I want to bring up my child.”

“Shared custody.”

He reached to capture her restless hands and hold them firmly in his. “You are not hearing me. I want to raise my child.”

“Our child.”

“Of course.” He caressed the insides of her wrists with his thumbs. “Let’s declare peace so we can make our way through this conversation amicably.”

Her shoulders relaxed and he guided her to a bench closer to the half wall at the end of the patio. They sat side by side, shoulder to shoulder.

She nodded. “I want peace, very much. That’s why I came to you now, early on, rather than just calling or waiting longer.”

“And I am glad you did.” He slid his hand up her arm to her shoulder, cupping the warmth of her, aching for more. “My brother Dempsey grew up thinking our father didn’t want him and it scarred him. I refuse to let that happen to my child. My baby will know he or she is wanted.”

“Of course our child will be brought up knowing both parents love and want him or her.”

“Yes, and you still haven’t answered my question.”

“What question?”

“The silly question that comes with a guy getting down on one knee. Will you marry me?”

Three

“Marry you? I do not even know you.” Erika’s voice hitched. Marriage? She had wanted him to be supportive, sure. But...marriage? The words tumbled over and over in her head in a disjointed echo.

“We knew each other well enough to have sex. Call me old-fashioned, but I’m trying to do the right thing here and offer to marry you. We can have a civil ceremony and divorce in a year. As far as our child knows, we gave it an honest try but things didn’t work.” His voice was level. Calm. Practical.

Her fears multiplied. This seemed too calculated. And she would not land in a family environment that was all for show again. Being raised royal had taught her she was not meant for a superficial existence. She had already chosen a meaningful career. A future where she could make a difference.

Swallowing back the anxiety swelling in her chest, she reminded herself to be reasonable.

“You figured all that out this fast? Or have you had practice with this sort of business before?” The notion cut her with surprising sharpness. She did not want to think about Gervais involved with other women after the way they’d been together.

“I am not joking.” His hand inched toward hers.

She scrutinized his face, studied the way his jaw jutted. The play of muted lights on his dark hair, the way it was thickest on top of his head. Even now, he was damn attractive. But that fact wasn’t enough to chase reason from her mind.

“Apparently not.”

“I’ll take that as a no to my proposal.” Retreating his hand, he leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

“You most certainly can. It is far too soon to speak of marriage. And have you forgotten? I have plans to pursue my education in the UK.”

Tilting his head, he lowered his voice. It became soft. Gentle. “You won’t even consider my offer? Not even for the baby’s sake? Let me take care of you while you’re pregnant and recovering, postpartum and such. You can get to know my family during the football season. Afterward, we can spend more time with yours.”

Even if the monarchy was defunct, she was a royal and sure of herself. She shot to her feet. “Do I get any say in this at all? You are a pushy man. I do not remember that about you.”

He stood and stepped closer, very close, suggestively. His hips and thighs warm against hers. “What do you remember about our time together?”

“If you are trying to seduce me into doing whatever you want—” Erika needed to focus. Which was tougher than ever with him pressed up against her and that smolder in his eye setting her on fire.

“If? I must not be working hard enough.” He slid his hands up her arms.

Her eyes fluttered shut, and for a moment she felt as if she could give in. But thoughts of her future child coursed through her mind. A ragged breath escaped her lips, and she reopened her eyes.

She clasped his wrists. “Stop. I am not playing games. I came here to inform you. Not demand anything of you. And certainly not to reenact our past together.”

His hands dropped and he scowled. “Let me get this straight. If I hadn’t wanted anything to do with the baby, you would have simply walked away?”

“You never would have heard from me again.” The words escaped her as an icy dagger. She would have no use for such a man. And she had to admit that even if his proposal felt pushy, at least Gervais was not the sort of person to walk away from his child.

“Well, not a chance in hell is that happening this time. You may have brushed me off once before, but not again.”

Had he genuinely wished to see her again after their weekend together? She had been afraid to find out at the time, afraid of answering his call only to discover that his contact was a perfunctory duty and social nicety. After what they had shared, she was not sure she could bear hearing that cool retreat in his voice. Now, of course, she would never know what his intentions had truly been toward her.

She took a deep breath. Regrouped.

“And you cannot command me to your will,” she warned him, her shoulders stiff with tension. “I will not be forced into marriage because you think that is the best plan. I have plans, as well.”

How many people had underestimated her resolve over the years because she had that label of “princess” attached to her? Her commanding officers. Teachers. Her own parents.

She would simply have to show Gervais her mettle.

“I understand that,” he murmured, his voice melting into the sounds of waves and steel drums. “Now we need to make plans together.”

Some of the tension in her eased. “Nice to know you can be reasonable and not just impulsive.”

With a shrug, he began again. “In the interest of being reasonable, let’s spend the next four weeks—”

“Two weeks,” she corrected him. She had already disrupted her life and traveled halfway across the globe for him.

He nodded slowly. “Two weeks getting to know each other better as we make plans for our child. You could stay here in my home, where there are plenty of suites for privacy. I won’t make a move that isn’t mutual. We’ll use this time to find common ground.”

“And if we are not successful in your time frame?” This felt like a business deal. But the time frame might be enough to bring him to reason.

“Then I guess I’ll have to follow you home. Now, how about I call over to the hotel for them to send your things here? You look ready to fall asleep on your feet.”

“You’re honestly suggesting I give up my plans completely and stay here?” She gestured back toward the house. Two weeks. Together. Under the same roof.

That part sounded decidedly less like a business deal. The very idea wisped heatedly over her skin.

“Not in my bed—unless you ask, of course.” He smiled devilishly. “But if we’re going to make the most of these two weeks, it’s best we stay here. There are fantastic graduate school programs in the area, too, if you opt for that later down the road. And I can also provide you with greater protection here.”

“Protection?” What in the world did she need his protection for? And from what? And what was this later-down-the-road notion for her plans?

“We’re a professional NFL family. That brings with it a level of fame and notoriety unrivaled in any other business domain. The fans are passionate. And while most of them are supportive, there is a segment that takes the game very personally. Some of the more unstable types occasionally seek revenge for what they perceive as bad decisions.” His jaw flexed. “Since your child is my child, that puts our baby at risk as a Reynaud. If you won’t stay here for yourself, then stay for our child. We are safe here.”

He had found the one reason she couldn’t debate. But she needed to be careful. To give herself time to think through the consequences of what she was agreeing to, and she couldn’t do that now when she was so tired.

“I am weary. It has been a long, emotional day. I would appreciate being shown to these guest suites that you speak of and I will consider it.”

“Of course.” He picked up his phone and tapped the screen twice before setting it down. “You’ll find all the toiletries you need at your disposal. I’ll have someone show you to a room and make sure you have everything you need.”

Before he finished speaking, a maid had arrived at the door, perhaps summoned by his phone.

Apparently, Gervais was serious about giving her some space if she elected to stay in the house with him. And while she appreciated that, she was also surprised at his easy efficiency. Hadn’t her pregnancy announcement rattled this coolly controlled man even a little?

“Thank you.” She looked at him, her breath catching at the raw masculinity of the man. She backed up a step, needing boundaries. And sleep.

“And I’ll have a long Hurricanes jersey sent up for you to sleep in.” His eyes remained on hers, but his voice stirred something inside her.

The last time they had slept under the same roof, there hadn’t been much sleeping accomplished at all. And somehow, as she took her leave of him, she knew that he was remembering that fact as vividly as she did.

* * *

The door closed behind her, and she loosed a breath that she didn’t realize she’d been holding.

This was...different from what she had grown up with. The billowy sheer curtains thinly veiled a view of Lake Pontchartrain. Heels clacked against the opulent white marble as she made her way to an oversize plush bed. Instinctively, she ran her hand over the white comforter as she took in the room.

A grand, hand-carved mahogany-wood nightstand held a score of toiletries.

It was luxurious. She unscrewed the lid on one of the lotion bottles, and the light scent of jasmine wafted up to her. She set it down, picked up the shampoo, popped the lid and breathed in mint and a tropical, fruity flavor.

This house was old, not as old as her castle, of course, but it still had history. And such a different feel than her wintry homeland. This was grander, built more for leisure than practicality.

Plopping onto the bed, Erika was somewhat surprised to note the bed was every bit as comfortable as it looked. The bed seemed to wrap her in a hug.

And she needed a hug. Everything in her life was undergoing a drastic change. Untethered. That was where she was. Her career in the military was over. It left her feeling strange, adrift. The past few years, her path had been set. And now? A river of conflicting wants and obligations flooded her mind.

Yes, she wanted to pursue her dream. She wanted to be a nurse-practitioner and pursue her studies in the UK, wanted that so badly. But that dream wasn’t as simple as it had been a couple months ago.

Even now, thousands of miles away, she felt the tendrils of familial pressure. When they learned she was going to have a child, they would be pressuring her. Probably into marriage. And Gervais seemed to have the same ideas. How was she supposed to balance all of it?

In her soul, she knew she’d be able to take care of her child. Give her baby everything and have her dreams, too. But the weight of everyone’s expectations left her feeling anxious. First things first, she needed to figure out what she wanted. How she would handle all of this. And then she could deal with the demands of her family and Gervais.

Lifting herself off the bed, she made her way to the coffee table where a stack of old sports programs casually dressed the table.

Dragging her fingers over the covers, she tried to get a feel for Gervais. For his family. The Greek Revival hinted at wealth but shed little on his personality. Though, from her brief time in the halls, she noticed how sparsely decorated the place was. On the wall, directly across from where she stood, were some photos in sleek black frames. They were matted and simple. The generic sorts of photographs that belonged more in a cold, impersonal office than a residence.

She walked over to investigate them further. The two images that hung on the wall were formal portraits, similar to the kinds she and her family had done. But whereas her family bustled with Viking grace and was filled with women, these pictures were filled with the Reynaud men.

The sons stood closer to the grandfather. Strange. A man who looked as if he could be Gervais’s father was on the edge of the photograph, an impatient smile curling over his face.

Gingerly, she reached out to the frame, fingers finding cool glass. Gervais. Handsome as the devil. A smile was on her lips before she could stop it. She dropped her hand.

No, Erika. She had to remain focused. And figure out how to do what was best for her—their—child that didn’t involve jumping into bed with him. Again.

Pulling at the hem of the jersey that cut her midthigh, a jersey she’d found on her bed and couldn’t resist wearing, she resolved to keep her hands off him. And his out from under her jersey. Even if that did sound...delicious.

* * *

Father.

The word blasted in his mind like an air horn.

Gervais tried to bring his mind back to the present. To the meeting with Dempsey, who had stopped by after Erika retreated to a vacant suite for the night. Just because Erika was pregnant didn’t mean his career was nonexistent. He needed to talk with his brother about the Hurricanes’ development. About corporate sponsorships and expanding their team’s prestige and net worth.

But that was a lot easier said than done with the latest developments in his personal life.

He swirled his local craft beer in his glass, watching the mini tornado foam in the center as he made himself comfortable in the den long after dinner had ended. Back when this house had still belonged to his parents, most of the rooms had been fussy and full of interior decorator additions—elaborate crystal light fixtures that hung so low he and his brothers broke a part of it every time they threw a ball in the house. Or three-dimensional art that spanned whole walls and would scrape the skin off an arm if they tackled each other into it.

The den had always been male terrain and it remained a place where Gervais felt most comfortable. The place where he most often met with his brothers. Dempsey had headed for this room as soon as he’d arrived tonight.

Now, sipping his beer, Gervais tried like hell to get his head focused back on work. The team.

Dempsey took an exaggerated sip from his glass and set it on the table in front of them. Cocking his head to the side, he settled deeper in the red leather club chair and asked, “What’s the deal with the princess’s arrival? She damn near caused Freight Train to trip over his feet like a first-day rookie.”

“She came by to see me.” Gervais tried to make it sound casual. Breezy.

“Because New Orleans happens to be right around the corner from Europe?”

“Your humor slays me.” He tipped back his beer. Dempsey was a lot of things, but indirect? Never.

“Well, she obviously came to see you. And from what I’m starting to hear now from the gossip already churning, the two of you spent a great deal of time together in the UK. Are you two back together again? Dating?” A small smile, but his eyes were trained on Gervais. A Reynaud trait—dogged persistence.

“Not exactly dating.”

“Then why is she here?” He leaned forward, picking up his glass. “And don’t tell me it’s none of my business, because she’s distracting you.”

He wanted to argue the point. But who the hell would he be kidding?

Instead, he dropped his voice. “This goes no further than the two of us for now.”

“I’m offended you have to ask that.”

“Right. Well, she’s pregnant. It’s mine.”

“You’re certain?” Dempsey set his glass on the marble side table, face darkening like a storm rolling out.

Gervais stared him down. Not in the mood for that runaround.

“All right. Your child. What next?”

“My child, my responsibility.” He would be there for his child. That was nonnegotiable.

“Interesting choice of words. Responsibility.” Something shifted in Dempsey’s expression. But Gervais didn’t have to wonder why. Dempsey was Gervais’s illegitimate half brother. Dempsey hadn’t even been in the picture until he turned thirteen years old, when Yvette, Dempsey’s mom, had angled to extort money from their father, Theo, at which point Theo brought Dempsey to the family home.

To say the blending had been rough was generous. It was something that felt like the domestic equivalent of World War Three. Gervais’s mother left. Then it was just a houseful of men—his brothers, Theo and Gramps. And it was really Gramps who had taken care of the boys. Theo was too busy shucking responsibilities.

“I’m sure as hell not walking away.” He’d seen too well the marks it left on Dempsey not knowing his father in the early years, the sting of growing up thinking his father didn’t care. Hell, their father hadn’t even known Dempsey existed.

Not that it excused their father, since he’d misled Dempsey’s mother.

“I’m just saying that I understand what it feels like to be an inconvenient mistake. A responsibility.” His jaw flexed, gaze fixed over Gervais’s head.

“Dad loves you. We all do. You’re part of our family.”

“I know. But that wasn’t always the case.”

“We didn’t know you then.”

“He did. Or at least he knew that he’d been with women without considering the consequences.” Dempsey’s eyes darkened a shade, protectiveness for his mother obvious, even though the woman had been a negligible caregiver at best. “Anyhow, it took us all a long time to come back from that tough start. So make sure you get your head on straight before this baby’s born. Better yet, get things right before you alienate the child’s mother. Because if you intend to be in the kid’s life, you’re not going to want to spend years backtracking from screwing up with words like responsibility at the start.”

The outburst was swift and damning. Dempsey shot up and out of his seat. He began to storm away, heading for the door.

Gervais followed.

“Dempsey—wait, I...” But the words fell silent as he nearly plowed into his brother’s back.

Dempsey had halted in his tracks, his gaze on the staircase in the corridor. Or, more accurate, his gaze on the woman now standing on the staircase.

Erika. In nothing but his jersey that barely reached midthigh. And she looked every bit as tantalizing as she had in her dress.

Gervais’s eyes traced up, taking in her toned calves, the slope of her waist. The way her breasts pushed on the fabric. That wild hair of hers... She was well covered, but he couldn’t help feeling the possessive need to wrap a blanket around her to shield her from his brother’s gaze.

“I heard noise and realized there was someone wandering around.” She drifted down a step, gesturing toward a shadowed corner of the hallway outside the den, where Gervais’s grandfather stood. “I believe this is your grandfather?”

Gramps must have been wandering around again. Leon Reynaud was getting more restless with the years, and forgetful, too. But it was Erika who concerned him most right now. Her face was emotionless, yet there was a trace of unease in her voice. Had she overheard something in their conversation in the den?

Gramps Leon shook a gnarled finger at them. “Somebody’s having a baby?” He shook his head. “Your father never could keep his pants zipped.”

A wave of guilt crashed against him. For years he had tried to avoid any comparisons between himself and his father. Purposely setting himself on a very different path.

His father had been largely absent throughout his childhood and teen years. Theo Reynaud was a woman chaser. Neglectful of his duties to his children, his wife and the family’s business.

Gervais would make damn sure he’d do better for his child. Even if Erika wasn’t on board. Yet. He’d be an active presence in his future child’s life. Everything his father failed to be.

Dempsey moved toward their grandfather, face slightly flushed. He stood and clapped Leon on the shoulder. “Dad’s not expecting another child, Grandpère.”

“Oh.” Leon scratched his sparse hair that was standing up on end. “I get confused sometimes. I must have misunderstood.”

Dempsey looked back at Gervais, expression mirroring the same relief Gervais felt. Crisis avoided.

His brother steered Gramps toward the door. “I’ll walk with you to your room, Gramps.” He gave Erika a nod as they passed her, though his focus remained on Leon. “I programmed some new music into your sound system. Some of those old Cajun tunes you like.”

“Thank you, boy, thank you very much.” They disappeared down the hall. Leaving Gervais alone with Erika.

Her arms crossed as she met his gaze. Unflinching bright blue eyes.

“You look much better in that jersey than anyone on the team ever did.” God, she was crazy sexy.

“Whose jersey is this?” She traced the number with one finger, tempting him to do the same. “Whose number?”

He swallowed hard, a lump in his throat. “It’s a retired number, one that had been reserved for me if I joined the team. I didn’t.” He shook off past regrets abruptly. He’d never played for the team, so he’d bought it, instead. “So shall I escort you back to you room?”

He couldn’t keep the suggestive tone from his voice. Didn’t want to.

She tipped her haughty-princess chin. “I think not. I can find my own way back.”

That might be true enough. But they weren’t done by a long shot. He wouldn’t rest until the day came when he peeled that jersey from her beautiful body.

Four

She was really doing it. Spending two weeks with Gervais in his mansion on the shores of Lake Pontchartrain. She’d slept in his house and now that her luggage had been sent over from the hotel, she had more than a jersey to wear. She tugged at the hem, the fabric surprisingly soft to the touch, the number cool against the tips of her breasts.

This was actually happening. Last night had been more than just an overnight fluke. True to his word, Gervais hadn’t been pushy about joining her here. But she felt his presence all the same.

And she was here to stay. A flutter of nerves traced down her spine as she fully opened the pocket doors to get a better look at the guest suite. She crossed the threshold from the bedroom to the sitting room, clothes in hand.

But she paused, toes sinking into the rich texture of the red Oriental rug. The way the light poured through the window in the sitting room drew her eye. Stepping toward the window, she took a moment to drink in the twinkled blue of Lake Pontchartrain.

The morning sun warmed her cheeks, sparking prisms across the room as it hit the Tiffany lamps. Glancing at her reflection in the gilded-gold mirror that was leaning on the mantel of the fireplace, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

Mind wandering back, as it had a habit of doing lately, to Gervais. To the way his eyes lingered on her. And how that still ignited something in her...

But it was so much more complicated than that. She pushed the thought away, moving past the cream-colored chaise longue and opening the cherrywood armoire. As if settling her belongings in drawers gave her some semblance of normalcy. A girl could try, after all.

Her hand went to her stomach, to the barely perceptible curve of her stomach. A slight thickening to her waist. Her body was beginning to change. Her breasts were swollen and sensitive.

And her emotions were in a turmoil.

That unsettled her most of all. She was used to being seen as a focused academic, a military professional. Now she was adrift. Between jobs. Pregnant by a man she barely knew and with precious little time to settle her life before her family and the world knew of her pregnancy. She had a spot reserved for her in a graduate nursing program this fall, and she wanted to take coursework right up until her due date. But then what?

A knock on the door pulled her back to the present. She opened the paneled door and found a lovely, slender woman, wearing a pencil-thin skirt and silky blouse, tons of caramel-colored hair neatly pinned up. A large, pink-lipstick smile revealed brilliant white teeth.

She extended her hand. “Hello, I’m Adelaide Thibodeaux. Personal assistant to Dempsey Reynaud—the Hurricanes’ coach. Gervais asked me to check in on you. I just wanted to make sure, do you have everything you need?”

Erika nodded. “Thank you. That is very kind of you to look in on me.”

“I’ve been a friend of Dempsey’s since childhood. I am happy to help the family.” She wore sky-high pumps that would have turned Erika into a giantess—exactly the kind that she enjoyed wearing when she wasn’t pregnant and less sure-footed.

“Did you have my things sent over?”

Adelaide’s brow furrowed, concern touching the corners of her mouth. “Yes, did we miss anything?”

“Everything is perfect, thank you,” she said, gesturing to the room behind her. “The home is lovely and comfortable, and I appreciate having my personal belongings sent over.”

“We want you to enjoy your stay here in the States. It will be a wonderful publicity boon for the team to have royalty attending our games.”

Erika winced. The last thing she wanted was more attention from the media. Especially before she knew how she was going to handle the next few months.

Adelaide twisted her hands together, silver bracelets glinting in the sunlight. “Did I say something wrong?”

“Of course not. It is just that I am not a fan of football, or competitive sports of any kind.” It was a half-truth. Certainly, no matter how she tried, she just didn’t understand the attraction of football. But she couldn’t tell Adelaide the real reason she didn’t want to be a publicity ploy.

“And yet clearly you’re quite fit. You must work out.”

“I was in the military until recently, and I do enjoy running and yoga, but I have to confess, team sports have never held any appeal for me.”

“No?” Adelaide frowned. “Then I am not sure I understand why you are here— Pardon me. I shouldn’t have asked. It’s not my business.”

Erika searched for a simple answer. “Gervais and I enjoyed meeting each other in England.” Understatement. “And since there is a conference in the area I plan to attend, I decided to visit.” Okay, the conference was a lie, but one she could live with for now.

“Of course.” Understanding lit her gaze, as if she was not surprised that Gervais would inspire a flight halfway across the world. “If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Thank you. I appreciate your checking on me. But I am independent.” She had always been independent, unafraid of challenges.

“I wasn’t sure of the protocol for visiting royalty,” Adelaide said, her voice curling into a question of sorts. As if a princess couldn’t fend for herself. “You are a princess.”

“In name only, and even so, I am the fifth daughter.”

“You’re humble.”

“I have been called many things, but not that. I am simply...practical.”

Pink lips slipped back up into a smile. “Well, welcome to New Orleans. I look forward to getting to know you better.”

“As do I.” She had a feeling she was going to get to know everyone exceptionally well. Erika’s thoughts drifted back to Gervais. She certainly wanted to get to know him better.

Adelaide started to leave, then turned back. “It might help you on game days if you think of football as a jousting field for men. You were in the military and come from a country famous for female warriors. Sure, I’m mixing time frames here with Vikings and medieval jousters, but still, if you see the game in the light of a joust or warrior competition, perhaps you may find yourself enjoying the event.”

The door closed quietly behind her.

A joust? She’d never considered football and jousting. Maybe...maybe she’d give that a shot.

Her gaze floated back to the window, back to Lake Pontchartrain. It stretched before her like an exotic promise. Reminded her she was in a place that she didn’t know. And it might be in her best interest to find any way into this world.

To make the most of these days here, to learn more about the father of her child, she would need to experience his world.

And that meant grabbing a front-row seat.

Yet even as she plucked out a change of clothes, she couldn’t help wondering... Had Adelaide Thibodeaux welcomed many other women into this home on Gervais’s behalf?

* * *

Today was quite the production. Gervais watched the bustle of people filling the owners’ suite at Zephyr Stadium for a preseason game day. Tickets for special viewing in the owners’ box were sold at a premium price to raise money for a local charter school, so there were more guests than usual in the large luxury suite that normally accommodated family and friends.

His sister-in-law Fiona Harper-Reynaud was a renowned local philanthropist, and her quarterback husband was the golden boy of New Orleans, which added allure to her fund-raising invitation. Henri—beloved by fans as the Bayou Bomber—was the face of their franchise and worth every cent of his expensive contract. He was a playmaker with the drive and poise necessary to make it in the league’s most closely dissected position.

The fact that female fans loved him was a bonus, even though it must be tough for Fiona sometimes. But she seemed to take it in stride, leveraging his popularity for worthy causes. Today her philanthropic guests sat casually on the dark leather chairs that lined the glass of the owners’ suite. Half-eaten dishes with bottles of craft beer peppered the table in front of them as the clock ticked down the end of the second quarter that saw the Hurricanes up by three points.

Yet Gervais’s eyes sought only one person. Erika.

He’d been busy greeting guests and overseeing some last-minute game-day business earlier, so he hadn’t gotten to spend any time with her yet. She was tucked away, in a leather sofa by the bar, sipping a glass of sparkling water with lemon, wearing a silky, fitted turquoise dress that brushed her knees and caressed her curves with understated sex appeal. He knew full well where those enhanced curves came from.

From carrying his baby inside her.

She scrunched her toes in her heeled sandals, reaching down to press her thumb along the arch of her foot. The viewing box was cool—downright chilly. But was the New Orleans heat bothering her? The climate was a far cry from where she lived. He wanted to help her feel more comfortable, to love his home city as much as he did so they wouldn’t be forced into some globe-hopping parenting situation. He wished they could have had a private breakfast to talk, but he’d been called away to the game. Thank goodness Adelaide had offered to check on her personally. Dempsey’s assistant and longtime friend remained the one good thing that had come from Dempsey’s early years spent living a hardscrabble life before their father had found him.

Adelaide had texted Gervais this morning, assuring him that Erika had everything she needed.

Now he watched Erika eyeing the food the servers carried. Caviar nachos and truffles pizza. Delicious delicacies, but she declined the offerings whenever the waitstaff stopped in front of her. Though she certainly looked hungry.

“Is the food not to your liking?” He stepped toward her, smoothing his tie and wondering if he should look into the foods native to her homeland. “We ordered a special menu for the event today, but we can have anything brought in.”

Nearby, a group of women cheered as Henri connected with one of the rookie receivers running a slant route down on the field. No doubt, it would be one of Henri’s last big plays of the game, since they needed to test the depth of the quarterback position with some of the backup talent.

Erika stood, moving closer to him, the scent of magnolia pulling his focus away from the game and slipping under his guard, making him recall their weekend together. Making him remember the view of her long legs bared just last night in a jersey that had covered her only to midthigh. He’d barely slept after that mouthwatering visual.

“Gervais, this is all incredible and definitely far more elaborate than I would have expected at a football game. Thank you.”

Her response had been polite, but he could see something tugging at her. So he pressed, gently, “But...”

She took a few steps toward the glass, gesturing to the seats below, where fans were starting to crowd the aisles as halftime neared. “Honestly? My mouth is watering for one of those smothered hot dogs I see the vendors selling. With mustard and onions.”

“You want a chili dog?” He couldn’t hide a grin.

Right from the start she’d charmed him with the unexpected. She was a princess in the military. A sexy rebel. And despite all the imported fare weighing down the servers’ trays, she wanted a chili dog.

“If it is not too much trouble, of course.” She frowned. “I did not think to bring my wallet.”

“It’s no trouble.” He wouldn’t mind stepping out of the temperature-controlled suite into the excited crowd. How long had it been since he’d ventured out from behind the tinted-glass windows during a game? It had been too long.

He leaned to whisper in her ear, hand bracing her on the small of her back. “Pregnancy craving?”

She blinked quickly, her breath quickening under his touch. “I believe so. Mornings are difficult with nausea, but then I am starving for the rest of the day. Today has been difficult, with all the travel yesterday and jet lag.”

“Then I will personally secure an order for you.” He smiled. “I have to say I wouldn’t mind having one for myself.” He touched her shoulder lightly, aching to keep his hands on her. “I’ll be right back.”

* * *

Erika moved closer to the glass and took a seat, looking down into the field, her eyes alert.

There was no fanfare in yoga or running, so Erika looked on at the halftime show with a sense of wonder. LSU’s band performed in tandem with a pop star local to the area, sending the fans into wild cheers as a laser light show sliced the air around her. The scents of fog and smoke wafted through the luxury suite’s vents, teasing her oversensitive nose.

This box was quite different from the Wembley luxury suite where she’d met Gervais. The Reynaud private domain was decorated with family memorabilia, team awards and lots of video monitors for comfortable viewing in the back of the box right near the bar.

But she enjoyed her front-row seat, watching intently.

So this really did have a form of old-world pageantry mixed with a dash of medieval jousting. Her military training made her able to pick out various formations on the field below, the two teams forming and re-forming their lines to try to outwit one another. Viewing the game this way had been a revelation—and definitely not as boring as she’d once thought. And she couldn’t wait to taste one of the chili dogs once Gervais returned.

Fiona Harper-Reynaud, the quarterback’s wife and Gervais’s sister-in-law, if Erika remembered correctly, tilted her head to the side. “Princess Erika, you look pensive.”

“I have been thinking about the game, trying to understand more about what I’ve seen so far, since I am actually quite a neophyte about the rules. My sisters and I were not exposed much to team sports.”

A few of the other women laughed softly into their cocktail napkins, eyeing Erika.

Fiona smiled, crossing her elegant legs at the ankles. “What an interesting choice, then, to spend time with Gervais when you’re not a football enthusiast.”

“I am learning to look at the game in a new light.” She would read more about it now that she knew her child would be a part of this world.

She couldn’t allow her son or daughter to be unprepared for their future, and that meant football. She could not sit in this box overflowing with Reynauds and fail to realize how deeply entrenched they were in this sport.

“How so?” Fiona traced a finger on her wineglass, her diamond wedding ring glinting in the light from a chrome pendant lamp.

Erika pointed down to the field, where the head coach and his team were now returning to the sidelines. “Adelaide Thibodeaux suggested I think of this as a ritual as old as time, like an ancient battle or a medieval jousting field. The imagery is working for me.”

“Hmm.” Fiona lifted one finely arched eyebrow. “That’s quite a sexy image. And fitting. Armor versus shoulder pads. It works. I’ll have to spin that for a future fund-raiser.”

“That sounds intriguing.” And it did. If it helped Erika to appreciate the game more, it could certainly appeal to someone else.

“Perhaps I should rethink the menu, too, as I may have overdone things with this event.” She picked up a nacho and investigated it.

“The food is amazing. Quite a lovely, fun spread,” Erika offered, smiling at her.

“But you want a chili dog—or so I overheard you say.”

“I hope you did not take offense, as I certainly did not mean any.” Erika fought the urge to panic. She bit down her nerves—and a wave of nausea. This was easily explainable. “I am in America. I simply want to experience American foods served at a regular football game.”

A server walked by with another fragrant tray of caviar nachos—too fragrant. She pressed her hand to her stomach as another wave of indigestion struck, cramping her stomach.

Fiona’s eyebrows rose but she stayed silent for a moment. “If you need anything, anything at all, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

Did Fiona know somehow, even though she didn’t have children? There seemed to be an understanding—and a sadness in her eyes.

For a brief, fleeting moment, she wondered if Fiona had ever found herself in Erika’s situation. Not the pregnant-with-a-handsome-stranger situation, but the other one. The one where she was an outsider who shouldered too much responsibility sometimes.

The weight of that thought bore down on her, making her stomach even more queasy. She fought back the urge, praying she could get to her feet and to the ladies’ room before she embarrassed herself.

Erika bit her lip, shooting to her feet, only to find the ground swaying underneath her. Not a good sign at all, but if she could just grab the back of her seat for a moment to steady herself... There. The world righted in front of her and she eyed the door, determined. “I will be right back. I need to excuse myself.”

And the second she took that first step, the ground rocked all the harder under her, and she slumped into unconsciousness.

Five

Gervais pushed through the crowds, eyes set on the chili dog vendor. As he weaved in and out, he saw recognition zip through their eyes.

The media had done a nice job planting his image in the minds of the fans even though he would have preferred a quieter role, leaving the fame to the players. But the family name also sold tickets and brought fans to their television screens, so he played along because he, too, loved the game and would do whatever was needed for the Hurricanes.

Many of the fans smiled at him, nudged a companion and pointed at Gervais. He felt a little as if he was in a dog-and-pony show. And while part of him wouldn’t mind pausing to speak to a few fans and act as an ambassador for the team, he really just wanted to get Erika that chili dog. Pronto.

So he flashed a smile as he continued, stopping in front of the food vendor, the smell of nacho cheese and cayenne peppers sizzling under his nose. Of all the things Erika could have asked for, he was strangely intrigued by this request. It was the most un-princess-like food in the whole sports arena. He loved that.

Gervais’s phone vibrated. He juggled the two chili dogs to one hand as he fished out his cell while taking the stadium steps two at a time. He glanced at the screen and saw his sister-in-law’s name. Frowning, he thumbed the on button.

“Yes, Fiona?”

“Gervais—” Fiona’s normally calm voice trembled “—Erika passed out. We can’t get her to wake up. I don’t know—”

“I’m on my way.” Panic lanced his gut.

His hand clenched around the hot dogs until a little chili oozed down his fingers as he raced up the steps faster, sprinted around a corner, then through a private entrance to the hall leading to the owners’ viewing box.

A circle of people stood around a black leather sofa, blocking his view. A cold knot settled in his stomach. He set the food on the buffet table and shouldered through the crowd.

“Erika? Erika,” he barked, forgetting all about formalities. He dropped to his knees beside the sofa where she lay unconscious. Too pale. Too still.

He took her hand in his, glancing back over his shoulder. “Has anyone called a doctor? Get the team doctor. Now.”

Fiona nodded. “I called him right after I called you.”

He brushed his hand over Erika’s forehead, her steady pulse throbbing along her neck a reassuring sign. But still, she wasn’t coming around. There were so many complications that could come with pregnancy. His family had learned that tragic reality too well from his sister-in-law’s multiple miscarriages.

Which made him wince all the more when he needed to lean in and privately tell Fiona, “Call the doctor back and tell him to hurry—because Erika’s pregnant.”

* * *

Erika pushed through layers of fog to find a group of faces staring down at her. Some closer than others.

A man with a stethoscope pressing against her neckline while he took her pulse must be a doctor.

And of course she should have known that Gervais would be near. He sat on the arm of the sofa at her feet, watching her intently, his body a barrier between her and the others in the room staring at her with undisguised interest.

Curiosity.

Whispering.

Oh, God. Somehow, they knew about the baby and she hadn’t even told her parents yet.

“Gervais, do you think we could have some privacy?”

He looked around, started, as if he hadn’t even realized the others were still there. “Oh, right, I’ll—”

Fiona stepped up. “I’ve got this. You focus on Erika.” She extended her arms, gesturing toward the door. “Let’s move to the other side of the box and give the princess some air...”

Her voice faded as she ushered the other guests farther away, leaving behind a bubble of privacy.

She elbowed up, then pressed a hand to her woozy head. “Doctor, what’s going on?”

The physician wearing a polo shirt with the team’s logo on the pocket said, “Gervais here tells me you’re pregnant. Would you like him to give us some privacy while we talk?”

She didn’t even hesitate with her answer. “He can stay. He has a right to know what is going on with the baby.”

The doctor nodded, his eyes steady and guarded. “How far along are you?”

“Two and a half months.”

“And you’ve been to a doctor?”

“I have, back in my homeland.”

“Well, your pulse appears normal, as do your other vital signs, but you stayed unconscious for a solid fifteen minutes. I would suggest you see a local physician.”

Gervais shot to his feet. “I’ll take her straightaway.”

Erika sat up, the world steadier now. “But you will miss the rest of the game.”

“Your health is more important. We’ll take the private elevator down and slip out the back.” He shifted his attention to the physician. “Doc, can you send up a wheelchair?”

She swung her feet to the ground. “I can walk. I am not an invalid. I simply passed out. It happens to pregnant women.”

“Pregnant women who don’t eat,” Gervais groused, sliding an arm around her waist for support. “You should take care of yourself.”

Even as she heard the grouchiness in his voice, she saw the concern in his eyes, the fear. She wanted to soothe the furrowed lines on his forehead but knew he wouldn’t welcome the gesture, especially not right now.

So she opted to lighten the mood instead. Heaven knew she could use some levity after the stress she had been under. And how strange to realize that in spite of being terrified, she felt safer now with Gervais present.

She looked up at him and forced a shaky smile. “Don’t forget my chili dog.”

* * *

Gervais paced the emergency room. The hum of the lights above provided a rhythm to his pacing. He tried to focus on what he could control.

Which was absolutely nothing at this point. Instead of being in the know, he was completely in the dark. He couldn’t start planning, something he liked to do.

Sitting still had never been his strong suit. Gervais wanted to be in the midst of the action, not hanging on the sidelines. That was how he’d been as a football player, how he dealt with his family. Always engaged. Always on.

But now? No one would tell him anything. He wasn’t a family member. Not technically, even though that was his unborn child.

God, he hated feeling helpless. Most of all he hated feeling cut off from his family. His child.

What the hell was taking the doctor so long?

Sure, the place was packed with weekend traffic. To his left was a boy with what appeared to be a broken arm and a cracked tooth. His sister, a petite blonde thing, wrinkled her nose in disgust as he shoved his arm in her face.

The man on his right elevated a very swollen ankle. He was in the ER alone, sitting in silence, hands rough with calluses.

Gervais could hear snippets of the conversation going on in the far corner of the room. A young mom cooed over her baby, holding tight to her husband’s hand. They were probably first-time parents. Nervous as hell. But they were tackling the problem together. As he wanted to with Erika, but the lack of information was killing him.

The whole ride over, Erika had been woozy and nauseated. He tried to tell himself that fainting wasn’t a big deal. But he wasn’t having much luck calming down his worries.

The possibilities of what could be wrong played over and over again in his head. He hated this feeling. Helplessness. It did not sit well with him.

A creak from the door called his attention back to the present moment. Snapping his focus back to the ER. And to the two men heading for him. His brothers Henri and Dempsey. Henri’s sweat-stained face was grave as he caught Gervais’s eye. Hell, he knew time had passed. But that much? And he hadn’t even watched the rest of the game on the waiting room television.

He charged over to his brothers.

Henri hauled him in hard and fast for a hug, slapping him on the back. Smelled of Gatorade. Heavily. The leftover jug must have been poured over his head, signifying victory. “What’s the news?”

“I’m still waiting to hear from the docs.” He guided both of his brothers over to the privacy of a corner by a fat fake topiary tree. “We won?”

Dempsey didn’t haul him in for a brotherly hug, but he thumped him on the back. They were brothers. Not as close as Henri and Gervais, but the bond was there. Solid. “Yes, by three points. Even though we sidelined most of our starters to test depth at various positions. Henri’s backup did a credible job marching the offense downfield for one more TD in the closing minutes. But that’s not what matters right now. We’re here for you. Is everything okay?”

Gervais shrugged. “We don’t know yet. Nobody’s talking to me. I’m not tied to her in any legal way.”

Dempsey’s voice lowered till it was something barely audible. He looked squarely into his brother’s eyes. “Do you plan to be there for your child?”

“Yes.” Gervais didn’t hesitate. “Absolutely.”

Henri shifted his weight from foot to foot. The three Reynaud men stared at each other, no one daring to utter so much as a syllable for a few moments.

Dempsey nodded. “Good. You know what? I’m going to get coffee for us. Who knows how long we will be here. ER visits are never short.”

“Great. Thanks,” Henri said as Dempsey walked back toward the doors. “Is she considering giving the baby up for adoption?”

“I didn’t bring that up.” Truth be told, he hadn’t even thought of that as a real option. It was his child. He wanted to provide for his child.

“Did she?” Henri crossed his arms, voice lowered so only they could hear each other.

“No. I’m not even sure how the royalty part plays into this.” God, what if his power, prestige, money, wasn’t worth jack and she took his child away altogether? “She discussed shared parenting.”

Henri shrugged. An attempt at nonchalance that fell flat. “I just want you to know that if things change, Fiona and I are willing to raise the baby as our own.”

Gervais looked over at his brother quickly, thinking of all the miscarriages his brother and sister-in-law had been through, the strain that had put on their marriage. This baby news had to be hitting his normally happy-go-lucky brother hard. “Thank you, my brother. That means a lot to me. But this is my child. Not some mistake. Not just a responsibility. My child.”

Henri nodded and hooked an arm around his brother’s shoulders. “I look forward to meeting my niece or nephew. Congratulations.”

“Thank you.” Gervais noticed how Henri’s face became blank. Distant. “Are you and Fiona okay?”

“Sure, we’re fine,” Henri replied a bit too quickly.

“We need your total commitment to the season. If you’re having any problems, you can come to me.” And he meant it. He wanted to be there for his brother. For his whole family. They meant everything to him.

Henri shook his head, looking his brother in the eyes. Offering a smile that refused to light his cheeks or touch his eyes. “No problem.”

Gervais shook his head, raising an eyebrow at him. “You never were a good liar.”

Wasn’t that the truth? When they were kids, Henri always cracked under pressure. His eyes would widen when he fibbed.

“No problems that will distract me from the game. Now stop being the owner of the team and let’s be brothers.”

Gervais was about to protest, but suddenly the ER waiting room was alive with movement. Dempsey strode back over to them, cups of coffee on a tray. A damn fine balancing act going on.

And following closely on his heels was a doctor. The same old, frazzle-haired doctor that had been treating Erika. His gut knotted.

The doctor cleared his throat. “Mr. Reynaud—Gervais Reynaud,” he clarified. The whole town knew the Reynauds, so no doubt the doctor recognized them. “Ms. Mitras is asking for you.”

All he could do was nod. Deep in his chest, his heart thudded. Afraid. He was afraid of what was wrong with Erika and his child.

The doctor opened a thick pinewood door to a small exam room and gestured for Gervais to enter.

In the center of the room, Erika was hooked up to a smattering of machines. Lights flashed from various pieces of equipment. Her blond hair was tied back into a topknot, exposing the angles of her face. Somehow making her seem impossibly beautiful despite the presence of the machines.

Within moments he was at her side. He wanted to show her he was here. He was committed to their child and would not abandon her. Stroking her hand, he knelt beside her. “You’re okay? The baby’s okay?”

Her face was pale, but she smiled, her eyes serene. “We are fine. Absolutely fine.”

“This child is important to me. You are important to me.” She was damn important. He had to make her see that.

“Because I am the baby’s mother.” The words spilled from her mouth matter-of-factly. As if there was no other reason he’d be here right now.

“We had a connection before that.”

A dramatic sigh loosed from her pink lips. “We had an affair.”

“I called you afterward.” She’d been imprinted on his brain. A woman he could not—would not—forget.

“You are a gentleman. I appreciate that. In fact, that was part of what drew me to do something so uncharacteristic. But it was only a weekend.”

“A weekend with lasting consequences.” A weekend that had turned him inside out. Given time, he could make her see that, too.

“More than we realized,” she said with a shaky laugh.

“What do you mean?” Head cocking to the side, he tried to discern the cause of the uneasy laughter.

She gestured to the ultrasound machine next to her. “I am pregnant with twins.”

Gervais tore his gaze from Erika, focusing on the screen. Sure enough, there were two little beans on the ultrasound. He and Erika were going to have twins.

Six

Exhausted, Erika relaxed back into the passenger seat of Gervais’s luxury SUV. The leather seat had the smell of a woodsy cologne, a smell she distinctively recognized as Gervais. It was oddly comforting, a steadying moment in a day that had been anything but stable.

As the car pulled away from the hospital, she glanced out the window, craning to see the collection of Reynaud brothers who stood at the entrance. Her sisters would swoon over the attractive picture they presented, those powerful, broad-shouldered men. They had all come rushing to the hospital, filled with concerns. And likely, with questions.

But they had been polite in the lobby after her release. They didn’t press for information—the conversation had been brief. They’d wanted to know if she was okay. And neither Gervais nor Erika had offered any information about twins. That was something that they still had to discuss together. Something she still hadn’t processed.

But how should she broach this new development in an already emotionally charged day? How in the world could she bring up everything in her whirring mind? Her eyes remained fixed out of the car, even though the scene of the hospital had faded from vision, framed by wrought-iron fences and thick greenery. Now the vibrant pinks and yellows of the old French houses populated her view.

Glancing at an elaborate wood-carved balcony, she let out an emotional sigh. What had happened today had left her shaken. She’d never passed out like that before, never felt so disoriented in her life. She’d been blessed with good health, and she had pushed her physical endurance to the limit during her military training. Yet this pregnancy was only just beginning and it had already landed her flat on her back. But, thanks to Gervais’s quick action, she and her children—children, plural, oh, God—were safe.

It was all that mattered. That her children were okay. The twins were fine. Twins. She turned the word over. Was it possible to love them both so much already, even though she’d just learned about them? And yet, she did. In spite of her nerves, in spite of not having a plan figured out. Sure, she was scared about the future, about having to deal with her family...but she was overwhelmed with a deep love for her children already.

She peered over at the man in the driver’s seat beside her. Perhaps he felt her eyes on him, because soon Gervais’s throat moved in a long swallow. “Twins?” he mused aloud. “Twins.”

The simple utterance seemed to linger on his tongue and echo through the quiet interior of the luxury vehicle. Not that she could blame him for being overwhelmed by the news. There was a lot to take in. Still, even under Gervais’s audible processing of the fact that he was about to be a father not to one but two children, she could hear a glow of pride in his tone. A protectiveness that caught her attention.

Of course, the raw, masculine appeal of his muscular body taking up too much space beside her might have something to do with how thoroughly he held her notice. How easy it would be to simply lean closer. Lean on him. She could almost imagine the feel of his suit jacket beneath her cheek if she laid her head on his shoulder and curled up against his chest.

She forced herself to focus on the conversation they needed to have instead. On their children.

“Yes, there are two in there. I even heard the heartbeats.” Her heart fluttered with joy as she remembered the delicate beating of her—their—children. The sound had made her spring to life in a way she didn’t know was possible. She felt bad he’d missed that. They were his children, too, and he’d deserved to have that same feeling of awe. Looking at him sidelong, she said cautiously, “Next time you can come with me if you wish.”

“I wish.” There was no mistaking the sound of his commitment.

“Then you should be there.” She couldn’t hold back the smile swelling inside her as she drank in his eyes alight with honest excitement. “It is too early to distinguish the sex, you know.”

He shrugged, clearly unconcerned. “That doesn’t matter.”

“It did in my family.” It came out in a whisper, something almost like a secret. And each word hurt.

He glanced over at her briefly before turning his eyes back to the road as they drove west toward his home. “Be clearer for me.”

She smoothed the skirt of her dress, wrinkled beyond recognition after being crumpled into a hospital bag during her exam. If only she could smooth over her past as easily. This was knowledge she carried every day. Knowledge that ate at her and had her entire lifetime. “A line of girls was always cause for concern in my home. The monarchy is technically inactive, but even so there is no provision for a female ruler. There are no male heirs. I am afraid...”

“Oh, no. No way in hell is anyone taking my children away.” His brow furrowed, anger simmering in his eyes, the joyous warmth gone.

“Our children. These are our children.” She felt all the same protective instincts he did, and she felt them with a mother’s fierce love.

“And we can’t afford to forget for even a moment how important it is that we work together for the children. If there’s a chance we can have more than a bicoastal parenting relationship, don’t you think it’s worth figuring that out as soon as possible?” The look he gave her was pointed. Sharp.

But Erika wasn’t about to back down. She hadn’t decided how to handle whatever was between them. And that meant she had to think a bit more. She wouldn’t be rash and impulsive. One of them had to think through their actions.

“I will let you know when I schedule my doctor visit. I will want to visit the doctor again before returning home.”

He scowled. “Can we not talk about you leaving? We’re still settling details.”

“You know I do not live here.” New Orleans was lovely, with its vibrant history, loud colors and live music that seemed to drift up from every street corner. But it was not home. Not that she really knew where home was these days...

“One day at a time. And today we are dealing with a big change, the reality of two children. I know that happens. I just never expected...” His voice trailed, his words ebbing with emotion.

“I have twin sisters.” She had always envied them their closeness, like having a built-in best friend from birth. “Twins—how do you say?—walk in my family.”

“Run in your family. Okay.”

She blinked at him, filing away the turn of English phrasing that brought a funny image to her mind of twins sprinting through her family tree. This was all happening so fast, she’d never stopped to consider the possibility of twins. There was so much to figure out still. “My oldest sister also has twin girls. I should have considered this possibility but I have been so overwhelmed since I realized I was expecting.”

“Thank you for coming to tell me so soon.” He covered her hand on the center console. “I appreciate that you didn’t delay.”

“You are the father. You deserve to know that.” Erika lifted her chin up, tilting her head to the side to get a better look at him. He was a good man. She knew that much.

“We’re going to make this work.” He lifted her hand and kissed the back, then the inside of her wrist over her rapidly beating pulse.

The press of his mouth to her skin was warm and arousing, stirring memories of their weekend together. The air crackled between them now as it had then. Her emotions were already in turmoil after the scare at the game. She ached to move closer, to feel his arms around her. To have those lips on her body again. Everywhere. Arousing her to such heights her head spun at the thought. How quickly she could simply lose herself in what he could make her feel.

But doing so would take away any chance of objectivity. And now she had twice the reason to tread carefully into the future.

* * *

The silver stain of moonlight washed over the lake. The water was restless. Frothy. Uneasy. A lot like the restlessness inside Gervais. But he had to pull it together in order to make this phone call.

He thumbed through his phone, finding his father in his contact list. How long had it been since they’d spoken? Months, no doubt. The bright screen blared at him.

He knew he had to call him about Erika’s pregnancy. Theo was in Paris for the week with his latest girlfriend. Which was, in some ways, fortunate. This way, Gervais had gotten to talk to Erika privately before his father had a chance at royally screwing the dynamic up.

But it also meant he had to make this call. Which was something he never looked forward to doing. Years of neglect and dysfunction had their way of clinging to their current relationship. Another lesson of how not to treat children brought to you by Theo Reynaud. Dear old dad loved football and his family, but not as much as romancing women.

Before he could think better of it, Gervais pressed Send on the screen. Feeling the pinch of nerves, he poured himself a glass of bourbon from the pool-deck bar, staring at where a few kids messed around with a stand-up paddleboard. Beyond them, the lights of gambling boats winked in the distance and even farther behind those he could see the bridge that spanned the lake.

Gervais wasn’t sure why he felt the need to talk to his dad other than doing him the courtesy of making sure he didn’t hear via the grapevine. Discretion wasn’t Theo’s strong suit. But if Gervais spun the news just right, maybe he could keep a lid on it a bit longer. Erika would appreciate that.

And tonight making Erika relaxed and happy felt like the first priority on a quickly shifting list in his life. But knowing that she carried his children had brought things into sharp focus for him today.

“Hello, son.” His father’s graveled voice shot through the receiver, yanking him from his thoughts.

Might as well cut to the chase.

“Dad, you’re going to be a grandfather.”

“About damn time. Damn shame Henri is still carrying a grudge and didn’t tell me himself. The divorce was a long time ago.”

In the background of the call, the sound of violin music and muted chatter combined with the clink of glasses. The sounds of a bar scene.

Gervais ignored the mention of his parents’ dysfunctional marriage. “Henri and Fiona aren’t expecting. I’m the one about to make you a gramps.”

News about the twins could wait. One step at a time. He was still reeling from that news himself.

“With who? You didn’t knock up some groupie looking for a big payoff from the family?” His voice crackled through the phone from across the Atlantic.

“Dad, that’s your gig. Not mine.” And just like that, he was on the defensive. Gervais was not his father. He would never be like his father. And the fact that his father thought he had that in his nature sent him reeling.

“No need to be disrespectful.” Bells chimed in the background of the call, an unmistakable sound of a slot machine in payoff mode.

So much for keeping the subject of his parents’ divorce off the table. “You destroyed your marriage with your affairs. You ignored your own sons for years. I lost respect for you a long time ago.”

“Then why are you here now telling me about this baby?”

Gervais closed his eyes, blotting out the lights from the distant boats on the lake, listening to the sound of the water. With his spare hand, he pressed on his eyes, inhaling deeply. Exhaling hard, he opened his eyes, resolve renewed.

“Because this news is going to go viral soon and I want to make sure you understand I will not tolerate any inappropriate or hurtful comments to the mother of my child.” That was something he absolutely would not allow. From anyone. Least of all his father. He would protect Erika from that.

“Understood. And who might this woman be?” An air of interest infused his words.

“Erika Mitras.” He sat down, inspecting his ice cubes as he waited for his father to make some sort of off-color remark.

“Mitras? From that royal family full of girls? Well, hell, son. It’s tough to find someone not out for our money, but kudos to you. You found a woman who doesn’t need a damn thing from you.”

The words cut him, even though, for once, his father hadn’t meant any harm by them. Erika had said as much about not needing Gervais’s help. But he wanted to be there for his children. For her. Seeing those two tiny lives on that monitor today had blown him away.

And knowing that Erika was already taxed from travel and devoting her beautiful body to nurture those children made him want to slay dragons for her. Or, at the very least, put a roof over her head and see to her every need.

“Thanks. That wasn’t forefront in my mind at the time.”

“When you were in England, I assume?”

“Not your business.”

“You always were a mouthy bastard.” Smug words from the other end of the receiver.

“Just like my old man.” He downed half of his glass of bourbon. “Be nice.”

“The team’s winning. That always puts me in a good mood.”

“Nice to know you care.” Not that his father owned a cent of this team. The Hurricanes belonged to Gervais and Gervais alone.

“Congratulations, Papa. Name the little one after me and I’ll give—”

“Dad, stop. No need to try so hard to be an ass.”

“I’m not trying. Good night, son. Congrats.”

The line went dead. So much for father-son bonding time.

Gervais tossed his cell phone on a lounge chair and tipped back the rest of the ten-year-old bourbon, savoring the honey-and-spice finish in an effort to dispel the sour feel left by the phone call. He didn’t know what he’d expected from his old man. That he would magically change into...what? A real father? Some kind of reassurance that maybe, just maybe, he himself could be a good father to not just one but two babies?

Foolishness, that. Theo remained as selfish as they came.

Regardless, though, he knew one thing for certain. He was not going to ditch his responsibility the way his father had.

* * *

Tucked in the big guest bed in Gervais’s house, Erika snuggled deeper beneath the lightweight comforter, hugging the pillow closer as sleep tugged her further under. She was exhausted after the hospital visit and the strain of pregnancy that seemed to drain all her physical resources. She would feel better after she rested, and she couldn’t deny taking extra pleasure at sleeping under the same roof as Gervais.

During her waking hours, she did all in her power to keep the strong attraction at bay so she could make smart decisions about her future. Her children’s future. But just now, with sleep pulling her under, and her body so perfectly comfortable, she couldn’t resist the lure of thinking about Gervais. His touch. His taste...

Her memories and dreams mingling, filling her mind and drugging her senses with seductive images...

The press of Gervais’s lips on hers sparked awareness deep in Erika’s stomach. He pulled back from the passionate kiss, and she surprised herself when she was disappointed. She wanted his lips on hers. And not just there. Everywhere.

But he led her toward the couch in his den.

His den?

A part of her brain realized this was not a memory. She was in Gervais’s house. In Louisiana. She could smell the scent of the lake mingling with the woodsy spice of his aftershave as he drew her down to the leather couch, tossing aside a football before he landed on the cushion while she melted into his lap. And it felt right. Natural. As if she belonged here with him.

Her heart slugged hard in her chest, the strength and warmth of his so incredible she could stay for hours. Longer. She wanted this. Wanted him. She’d never felt so alive as during those days when she’d been in his bed, and she couldn’t wait to feel that spark inside her again. The hitch in her breath. The pleasure of sharp orgasms undulating through her body, again and again.

Now he tilted her chin up, searched her eyes for something. A mingle of nerves, anticipation and desire thumped in her chest as he kissed her forehead. Her lips. Her neck. She trembled as he touched her, her whole body poised for the fulfillment he could provide.

Her eyes closed, and the muted noise of a football game on a television behind them began to fade away until only the sound of their mingled breaths remained.

“Erika,” he whispered in her ear before kissing her neck again. The heat of his breath on her skin made her toes curl.

“Mmm?” A half question stuck on her lips.

“Stay here with me.” His request was spoken in clips between kisses, then a nip on her earlobe.

His hands tugged at the heavy jeweled collar around her neck. He removed it from her, the metal crown charms clanking against the coffee table. How good it felt to set that weight aside.

“Let me take care of you. Of them.” Wandering hands found her shoulders, slipped underneath the thin straps of her dress. She burst to life, pressing into him with a new urgency. A want and need so unfamiliar to her.

As he kissed her, he rocked her back and forth. The scent of earthy cologne seemed to grow stronger. Demanded more of her attention...

“Erika?” a deep voice called, a man’s voice.

Gervais.

Opening her eyes, she had a moment of panic. This was not the hotel room.

As the suite came into focus, she realized where—and when—she was. This was Gervais’s house, his guest bedroom. She wasn’t in London, but rather in Louisiana. Still, the memory pounded at her mind and through her veins.

She wanted to go back there now. To her dreamworld in all its brilliant simplicity.

But Gervais himself stood in the doorway of the guest suite.

His square jaw flexed, the muscles in his body tensed, backlit from a glowing sconce in the hall.

“Erika?” He crossed the threshold, deeper into the room, his gaze intense as he studied her. “I heard you cry out. I was worried. Are you okay? The babies?”

The mattress dipped as he sat beside her, stirring heated memories of her dream.

“I am fine. I was, um, just restless.” The sensuality of her dream still filled her, making her all the more aware of his hip grazing hers through the lightweight blanket. The electricity between them was not waning. If anything, she felt the space between them grow even more charged. More aware.

“Restless,” he repeated, eyes roving her so thoroughly she wondered what she looked like. Her hair teased along her bare shoulder, her silk nightdress suddenly feeling very insubstantial, even though the blanket covered her breasts.

Images from her dream flitted back into her mind, and she bit her lip as her gaze moved down his face, to his hands reaching up to her exposed shoulders. Looking back at him through her eyelashes, she could tell he sensed the charged atmosphere, too. But his hands didn’t move. Not as she’d expected—and wanted—them to. There was something else besides hunger in the way he held her gaze. Something that looked a bit like worry.

“Gervais, I truly am all right. But are you all right?”

He ran his hand through the hair on top of his head, eyes turning glossy and unfocused. “I called my dad tonight to tell him about the pregnancy. Not the twin part. Just...that he’s going to be a grandfather. I didn’t want him to hear it in the news.”

She thought of how the day had gone so crazy so fast simply because she passed out. “I wish we could have told your family together.”

“You didn’t include me when you told your family.”

She looked away, guilt stinging her. And didn’t that cool the heat that had been singeing her all over?

“You’ve told your family, haven’t you?” he asked, his eyes missing nothing.

“I will. Soon. I know I have to before it hits the news.” She wanted to change the subject off her family. Fast. “What did your family have to say? Your brothers were quiet at the emergency room.”

“My brothers are all about family. No one judges. We love babies.”

Erika raised her eyebrows, unsure how to take the casual tone of what felt like a very serious conversation. She noticed he didn’t include his father in that last part.

“That is all?” she asked, knowing she had no right to quiz him when she hadn’t shared much about her own family.

“That’s it. Now we need to tell your parents before they find out.”

“I realize that.”

“I want to be with you, even if it’s on the phone in a Skype session.” His jaw flexed in a way she was beginning to recognize—a surefire sign of determination. He slid his arms around her and said, “I want to reassure them I plan to marry their daughter.”

Seven

“You have forgotten we have no plans to get married. I have plans—other plans. Our plans are in flux.”

Erika pulled out of Gervais’s arms so fast he damn near fell off the bed. He wasn’t sure why he’d raised the issue again, other than not wanting to be like his father, and certainly the timing of his proposal hadn’t been the smoothest. But the least she could do was consider it, since they hadn’t taken time to seriously discuss it that first night.

Time to change that now. He shifted on the bed so they were face-to-face. And promptly remembered how little she must be wearing under that blanket. A bare shoulder peeked above the fabric, calling his hands to rake the barrier down and away.

To slide between those covers with her.

“Why not even consider?” he ground out between clenched teeth, determined to stay on track with this talk. “We have babies on the way. Even if we have a civil ceremony and stay together for the children’s first year.” From the scowl on her beautiful face he could see he was only making this worse. “Erika?”

“I came here to tell you about being pregnant, see if you want to be an active father, and then make plans from there. I didn’t come for a yearlong repeat of our impulsive weekend together.”

He swallowed. Had his carnal thoughts been that obvious? No sense denying that he wanted her.

“And what would be so wrong with that?”

“I have a life in another country.”

“You’re out of the military now. So work here. You have more job flexibility than I do.”

Red flushed into her cheeks, making her look more like a shield maiden and less like a delicate princess in need of saving. “You are serious?”

The more he thought about it, the more it felt right. A marriage of convenience for a couple of years. He stroked her hair back and tucked it behind her ear, the silky strands gliding along his fingers. “We have amazing chemistry. We have children on the way. You’re already staying in my home—”

“For two weeks,” she said, finality edging her voice.

“Why not longer? Things have changed now with the twins. Two babies at once would be a lot for anyone to care for.”

He needed to be involved. A part of his children’s lives.

“I have plans for this fall. A commitment to my career. You are thinking too far into the future.” She shook her head, a toss of silvery-blond hair in the moonlight. “Please slow down.”

She angled an elbow against a bolster pillow, reclining even as she remained seated. And damn, but he wanted to be the one she leaned against, the one who supported her incredible body through the upcoming months while she carried this burden for them.

“We don’t have that option for long. And you yourself said you were concerned about the babies being boys and being caught up in the family monarchy as next in line. If they’re born here and we’re married here in the States...” He wasn’t exactly sure what that would mean for the monarchy, but it certainly would slow things down. Give them time to become a family. And to figure out how everything would work together.

She clapped a hand over his mouth. “Stop. Please. I cannot make this kind of decision now.”

The magnolia scent of her lotion caught him off guard. He breathed in the scent, enjoying the cool press of her skin on his lips. Would have said as much if he hadn’t noticed the glimmer of tears in her eyes.

A raggedy breath before speaking. “Can we please think about our future rationally? When I am rested and more prepared?” Though she did her best to look past him, every inch a regal monarch in that moment, he could see the strain in her cheeks.

She’d had a helluva long day. Fainted. Found out she was pregnant with twins. And she still had not gotten her damn chili dog.

There was a lot going on.

He could cut her some slack, give her space to collect herself. It was no use pushing so hard while she was emotional. And she had every right to be. Hell, he’d been upset tonight, too, uncharacteristically irritated with his father.

So he would revise his approach until cooler heads prevailed. This tactic to get her to stay was not the right one. She’d dismissed it out of hand.

Who could blame her, though? He’d given her no real reason to stay. And, as much as he hated to admit it, Erika Mitras was a woman who did not need him for anything. She could afford the best care and doctors for her pregnancy the same as he could. She would have highly qualified help with day-to-day care in her homeland.

But what she hadn’t realized yet was that they were so damn good together. There was something between them, a small spark that could be more. And they had the children to consider.

Rather than insist she stay, he’d convince her. Which meant she was in for some grade A romancing. That was something he could give her that she couldn’t just find in a store.

He would win her the old-fashioned way. Because like hell if he was losing his children. Missing out on the lives of his offspring simply wasn’t an option. He’d make sure of that.

* * *

The next evening Erika still could not make sense of what had happened the night before. But no matter which way she spun Gervais’s actions in her bed last night, nothing made sense. She’d been so sure that he wanted her. That he felt that same sharp tug of attraction between them, but his decision to simply walk away and let her go to bed alone had left her surprised. Confused. Aching. Wanting.

He hadn’t mentioned the baby issue at all the whole day, then he surprised her with this dinner date, a night out in the city they called the Big Easy.

Draping an arm along the white-painted wrought-iron railing of the patio, her hand kept time to the peppy jazz music playing. She hadn’t realized her head nodded along to the trumpet until Gervais flashed her a smile.

Heat flushed her cheeks as she turned her attention away from the very attractive man in front of her. She pushed around the last bite of her shrimp and andouille sausage, a spicy blend of flavors she’d quizzed their waiter about at length. Every course of her meal had been delicious.

Attention snapping to the present, she caught a whiff of something that smelled a lot like baked chocolate and some kind of fruit. Maybe cherries, but she couldn’t be sure. All she knew was that her senses were heightened lately.

As were her emotions.

What was Gervais up to with this perfect evening? Was he trying to charm her into changing her mind without discussing the logistical fact that he still moved too fast?

Setting her fork down, she inclined her head to the meal. “Dinner was lovely. Thank you.”

His dark eyes slid over her. One forearm lay on the crisp white linen tablecloth, his tanned hand close to where hers rested. He made her breath catch, and she felt sure she was not the only woman in the vicinity who was affected. She liked that he didn’t notice. That his gaze was only for her.

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. But the evening doesn’t have to end now.” His hand slid closer to hers on the table.

Her tummy flipped. Did he mean—

Standing, he folded her palm in his. “Let’s dance.”

She was relieved, right?

Oh, heavens, she was a mess.

She took his hand, the warmth of his touch steadying her as he guided her over to the small teak dance floor. Briefly they were waylaid by an older couple who congratulated Gervais on the Hurricanes’ win the day before. But while he was gracious and polite, he didn’t linger, keeping his attention on her.

On their date and this fairy-tale evening that Gervais had created for her.

Beneath the tiny, gem-colored pendants, he pulled her into him as the slow, sultry jazz saxophone bayed. With ease, his right hand found the small of her back, and his left hand closed around her hand. As they began to sway, he tucked her against him, chest to chest underneath the din of the music and the lights.

The scents and sounds were just a colorful blur, though, her senses attuned to Gervais. The warm heat of his body through his soft silk suit. His fingers flexing lightly on her back, his thumb grazing bare skin where a cutout in her dress left her exposed.

She swallowed. Each fast breath of air she dragged in pressed her breasts to the hard wall of his chest, reminding her how well her body knew his. What would it be like to be with him now, with her senses so heightened? It had been incredible two and a half months ago.

She couldn’t hold back a soft purr. She covered by saying, “The music is beautiful.”

“It’s the heartbeat of our city. The rhythm the whole place moves to.”

He whirled her past the bass player, where the deep vibrations hummed right through her feet.

“There’s so much more about my hometown to show you beyond our sports. So much history and culture here. And of course, some amazing food.”

Which she could still smell drifting on the breeze. The scent of spices thickened the air, making the heat of the evening seem more exotic than any of the places she’d ever been to during her stint in the military.

“I cannot deny this Big Easy fascinates me.” She could lose herself in these brick-and-wrought-iron-laced streets, the scent of flowers heavy in the air. “But I want to be clear, as much as I enjoyed the food tonight, or how much I might like the sound of jazz, that is not going to make me automatically change my mind about your proposal. We have nothing in common.”

His voice tickled in her ear, a murmur accompanying the jazz quartet. “Sure we do. We both come from big families with lots of siblings.”

A shiver trembled along her skin, and she reminded herself it was just the pregnancy making her so susceptible to him. It had to be. No man could mesmerize a woman so thoroughly otherwise. Her hormones simply conspired against her.

“I guess your family does qualify as American royalty.” She held up her end of the conversation, hoping he could not see the effect he had on her. “So that is one thing we have in common. Just minus the crowns.”

“True. No tiaras here.” His head dipped closer to speak in her ear again. “Although thinking of you in a tiara and nothing more—that’s an image to die for.”

She knew he joked. That did not stop her from imagining being naked with him.

“An image that will have to remain in your mind only, since I do not pose for pictures. After what happened to my sister because of the sex tape with the prime minister,” she said, shuddering, “not a chance.”

Gervais almost missed a step, though he recovered quickly enough.

“Your sister was in a sex tape?”

“You must be the only person in the world who did not see it.” That snippet of footage had almost ruined her family. The publicity was all the more difficult to deflect, since their monarchy was both defunct and not particularly wealthy. They’d had precious few resources to fight with.

“Never mind.” Gervais shook his head, dismissing that conversation. “That’s beside the point. First, I wasn’t speaking literally. And second, I would never, never let you be at risk that way.”

Her neck craned to look at him, eyes scanning his face. There was no amusement in her eyes. “Perhaps more to the point, I will not put myself at risk.”

“You’re an independent princess. I like that.”

“Technically, I am a princess in name only. The monarchy doesn’t have ruling power any longer.”

“Fair enough.”

Gervais spun her away from him. There was a moment before she returned to the heat of his body that left her with anticipation. She wanted him to keep touching her, to keep pressing his body against hers.

After they resumed their rhythmic swaying, he said softly into her ear, “You are pretty well-adjusted for someone who grew up in a medieval castle surrounded by servants and nannies.”

“What makes you think we had servants and nannies?”

A smile played with his sexy mouth. “That princess title.”

She rolled her eyes. “The castle was pretty crumbly and we had some maintenance help, since we opened part of the palace to the public, and tutors volunteered just to have it on their résumé that they’d taught royalty. But definitely no nannies.”

“Your parents were the involved types.” Somehow they had gotten closer, lips barely a breadth away from each other. The thought of how close he was made it hard for Erika to concentrate. So she pulled back a bit, adjusting her head to look out over the crowd, toward the band.

“Not really. After class we had freedom to roam. We were quite a wild pack of kids. Can you imagine having your own real-life castle as a playground? We had everything but the unicorn.”

“You make it sound fun.”

“Some days it was fun. Some it was lonely when I saw the kids on tour with their parents.” She hesitated. The last thing she wanted from Gervais was sympathy. She’d accepted what her family was and was not a long time ago. So she continued, “And some days were downright dangerous.”

“What do you mean?”

“My sisters and I wanted a trampoline for Christmas.” Which sounded perfectly normal. Except for the Mitras clan, there was no such thing as normal.

“Okay. And?”

“You do not get those on royal grounds. It does not fit the historical image, and without the tours we didn’t have money. So, we made our own.”

“Oh, God.” A look of horror and intrigue passed over his face.

“We pulled a couple of mattresses down the stairs, stacked them under a window... And we jumped.”

Gervais’s eyes widened. “From how high?”

She shrugged. “Third story. And the ceilings were high.”

“You’re making me ill.”

“It was only scary the first time when one of my sisters pushed me.” And, later, when another sister broke an arm and the game ended for good.

“Pushed you?” Disbelief filled his voice. Surely his brothers had done equally dangerous things as forms of entertainment when they had been younger.

She’d seen the Reynaud males up close, and there was an air of confidence and arrogance about all of them that didn’t exactly coincide with a sheltered upbringing.

“I was the test dummy,” she informed him. “As the youngest and the lightest, it was my job to make sure the mattress had been placed correctly and had enough bounce.”

“And did it?”

“We had to add some duvets and pillows.”

“So it hurt.”

“Probably no more than playing football without shoulder pads.”

Tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ear, he whispered, “You’re such a badass. I expected a story like that from a family of boys, but not girls.”

Not all girls were the descendants of female warriors. And that was usually the justification for their shenanigans as children. “We considered it our gym class. It was more interesting than lacrosse.”

“Lacrosse, huh? I didn’t expect that.” He brushed his lips across her temple, his breath warm, his brief kiss warmer.

Her body even warmer still with want.

Just when she thought she would grip his lapels and melt right into him, he stepped back.

“I should get you home, Princess. It’s late.”

And just like that, the fairy-tale book was closing. She felt close to him all evening, physical distance aside. And every time it seemed as if there was something more between them, he pulled back.

While part of her was relieved that he’d stopped pushing for more, a larger part of her wanted him. She had to weigh her options. Had to be strong for her unborn children and make the wisest decision possible. It wasn’t just her life in the balance.

* * *

After a sleepless night dreaming of Gervais’s touch, Erika hadn’t awoken in the best of moods. And now she had to make the phone call she had been dreading. The one that had sent her on edge all morning long until she found her courage and started dialing.

Erika sat on the chaise longue in the guest room as she hugged the device to her ear and listened to the call ring through on the other side of the world. She needed to speak with her parents and tell them that she was pregnant. With twins. There was no sense in avoiding the inevitable any longer.

Her mother answered the phone. “Hello, my love. What brings about this lovely surprise of a call?”

“Um, does there have to be a special reason for me to call you?”

“There does not have to be, but I hear a tone in your voice that tells me there is a reason. Something important perhaps?”

Her mother’s surprise intuition tugged at her already tumultuous emotions.

“I am pregnant. With twins.” The words tumbled out of her mouth before she had even had a chance to respond to the pleasantries with her mom.

So much for the long speech Erika had outlined and perfected. Glancing down at the piece of paper in front of her, she noted that her talking points were basically for show. There was no going back now.

Silence fell from the other end of the receiver for what seemed like an eternity.

“Mother?” she asked, uncertainty creeping into her voice.

“Twins, Erika? Are you certain?”

She nodded, as if her mother could see. “Yes, Mother. I’m certain. I went to the doctor two days ago and heard the two distinct heartbeats with my own ears. The tradition of twins lives on in the Mitras family.”

“Who is the father?” Her mother’s interest pressed into the phone.

“Gervais Reynaud, the American football team owner—” she began, but her mother interrupted.

“A son of the Reynaud shipping empire? And Zephyr Cruise Ships? What an excellent match, Erika. American royalty. The press will love this.”

“Right, but, Mother, I wanted to—”

“Oh, darling, have you considered what this could mean for the family? If you have boys, well...the royal line lives on. This is wonderful, my love. Hold on, let me get your father.”

Rustling papers and some yelling came through over the phone. Erika’s stomach knotted.

“Your father is on speakerphone. Tell him your news, my love.” Her mother cooed into the phone, focused on all the wrong things.

“I’m going to have twins, Father. And I’m just—”

“Twins? Do you know what this means? You could have a boy. Maybe two.”

Erika nodded dully into the phone, the voices of her parents feeling distant. As if they belonged in someone else’s life. The way they had when she was a child. The image of the royal family always seemed more important than the actual well-being of the family itself.

They weren’t interested in hearing what she had to say but were already strategizing how to best monetize this opportunity. The press was about to have an all-access pass to her life before she even knew how she was going to proceed.

“Mother, Father,” she said, interrupting their chatter, “I’ve had quite the morning already.” They didn’t need to know how much it taxed a woman to daydream about Gervais just when he’d decided to pull back. “Do you mind if I call you later, after I’ve rested?”

Tears burned her eyes for a variety of reasons that shouldn’t make her cry. Pregnancy hormones were pure evil.

“Of course not, my love.”

“Not at all, my dear,” her father said. “You need your rest if you are going to raise the future of the royal line. Sleep well.”

And just like that, they were gone, leaving her cell phone quiet as the screen went dark. They had disconnected from the call as abruptly as they often did from her life, leaving her all alone to contend with the biggest challenge she’d ever faced.

* * *

“Well, we’re surprised to see you so early, that’s all,” Dempsey said from a weight bench, his leg propped up on a stool. He pressed around his knee, fidgeting with the brace. An old injury that had cost him his college football career. It was flaring up again. Most days, it didn’t bother him. But then there were days like today.

Gervais understood Dempsey’s position. He’d been sidelined from the field, as well. One too many concussions. But quite frankly, he enjoyed the business side of owning the Hurricanes.

There were new challenges, new ways of looking at the game and new styles of offense to develop as players came up stronger and faster than ever before. And he was still involved in football, which had been his ultimate goal anyway. This had just been another way to get at the same prize.

As an owner, he would not only strategize how to field the best possible team, he would also make the Hurricanes the most profitable team in the league. Corporate sponsorships were on track to meet that goal in three years, but Gervais had plans that could shorten that window to two. Maybe even eighteen months. The franchise thrived and the city along with it.

“I’m not sure what you two find so fascinating about my night out with Erika.” Gervais curled the dumbbells, sweat starting to form on his brow as they worked out in a private facility within the team’s training building.

The team lifted in a massive room downstairs, but Gervais had added a more streamlined space upstairs near the front offices.

“We just want to know what’s going on in your life. With the baby. And you,” Henri, their father’s favorite, added. Theo had high hopes that Henri would one day wear a Super Bowl ring for the Hurricanes and continue in the old man’s footsteps as a hometown hero.

The whole family was here, with the exception of their father and their brother Jean-Pierre, who played for a rival team in New York and didn’t get to Louisiana much during the season.

And while Henri technically worked out with the team, he never minded putting in some extra hours in the upstairs training center to try to show up his older brothers in the weight room.

“That offer still stands, by the way, if you want it to,” Henri said, his voice low enough so only Gervais could hear. Gervais knew that things had been hard for Henri and his wife since they hadn’t been able to conceive. It affected everything in their marriage. But Gervais wasn’t about to give them his unborn children. He wanted to raise them, to be an active part of their lives. To be the opposite of their father.

“Hey now, secrets don’t make friends,” Dempsey snapped, his face hard. Henri rolled his eyes but nodded anyway.

“So, Pops—” Dempsey shot him an amused grin “—have you decided what you are going to do?”

“Yeah, how are you going to handle fatherhood in the public eye with a princess?” Henri teased, huffing out pull-ups on a raised bar.

“I told you both, I’m taking care of my children.” And Erika, he added silently. His main goal as they got ready for the game in St. Louis was to show her that they could be together. That they were great together. An unconventional family that could beat the odds. He was prepared to romance her like no other. And he might have shared that with Henri and Dempsey, if not for the man that rounded the corner, stopping in the entrance to the weight room.

From the door frame, a familiar booming drawl. Theo. “I’m here to meet the mother of my first grandchild.”

Eight

As the limo driver faded from view, Erika sped into the Hurricanes’ office building. She moved as fast as her legs would carry her, feeling less like royalty and more like a woman on a mission.

Twenty minutes ago, Gervais had called her. Urgency flooded his voice. He needed her in the office stat.

Pushing the heavy glass door open, she took a deep breath, feeling ever so slightly winded. The humidity was something she had yet to fully adjust to, and even small stints outside left her vaguely breathless. The rush of the cool air-conditioning filled her lungs as she crossed the threshold, a welcome chill after the New Orleans steam bath. Striding beneath the black-and-gold team banners hanging overhead, she struggled to figure out what was wrong that he needed her here.

Taking the stairs two at a time, she made it to the second floor and hung a right. Headed straight for the glass wall and door with an etched Hurricanes logo.

The secretary smiled warmly at her from her desk. Adjusting her glasses, she stood. “Princess Erika, Mr. Reynaud is expecting you—”

Extending a manicured hand, she gestured to another door and Erika didn’t wait for her to finish. Hurrying forward, she reached the polished double doors made of a dark wood. And heavy. She gave one side a shove, practically falling into the huge office of the team owner.

Currently an empty room.

Erika looked around, heart pounding with nerves. And, if she was being honest, disappointment.

Spinning on her heel, she practically ran into the secretary. Grace was not on her side today.

“My apologies, ma’am,” the secretary started in a quiet voice. “Mr. Reynaud will be back in a few minutes, but please make yourself comfortable. Can I get you anything while you wait? We have water, soda, tea. And of course enough Gatorade to fill a stadium.”

“Thank you.” As the words left her lips, she settled down. Slightly. “I’m just fine, though.”

“Of course.” The secretary smiled, exiting the room and closing the door with a soft click.

So she was here. In his office without him. While not ideal, it did give her a chance to feel out what sort of man he was. At least in the business sense.

A bank of windows overlooked the practice field below, the lush green grass perfectly manicured with the white gridiron standing out in stark contrast. Silver bleachers glimmered all around the open-air facility with a retractable dome. Funny they didn’t have the stadium roof on today when it was so beastly hot outside, but perhaps the practice had been earlier in the day as there were no players in sight now.

Turning from the wall of windows, she paced around the office. She noted the orderly files, the perfectly straightened paper stacks on the massive mahogany desk. The rows of sticky notes by the phone. The walls were covered with team photos and awards, framed press clippings and a couple of leather footballs behind glass cases. The place was squared away. Tight.

Not too different from the way she kept her own living quarters, either. Impersonal. Spit-shined for show. They might not have done a lot of talking in London, but clearly they had gravitated toward each other for reasons beyond the obvious. After last night she felt as if they had more in common than they realized.

A tightness worked in her chest. So desperately did she want to trust him now that they found themselves preparing to be parents together. But trust came at a high cost. It wasn’t a commodity she candidly bestowed. It was earned—her most guarded asset. Years of being royalty had taught her to be suspicious.

Shoving her past aside, she approached a picture on the farthest corner of his desk. It was different than the rest. It seemed to have nothing to do with the Hurricanes. Or football, for that matter.

The photograph was faded, old—probably real film instead of digital. But she would have recognized him anyway. Gervais. His brothers. A woman. His mother, she assumed. But no Dempsey. Which struck her as odd.

She would have continued to stare at the picture as if it could give her the answers she was after if she didn’t hear a man clearing his throat behind her.

She glanced over her shoulder, through the blond strands of her hair. Gervais stood in the doorway. And he looked damn sexy.

He was disheveled. Not nearly as put together as his office. His hair was still wet from a shower, and his shirt was only half buttoned. For the quickest moment she had the urge to finish undoing it. To kiss him—and more.

The urge honestly surprised her. She had promised herself yesterday that after a good night’s sleep, she would be levelheaded today. She needed logic to prevail while she figured out if he could be trusted. Only then could she decide what to do next.

Leaning against the desk, and looking at his lips with feigned disinterest, she asked as casually as possible, “What is the emergency? Is something wrong?”

He shook his head, closing the door behind him. “Not really. I just wanted to speak with you privately about—” he hesitated “—a...uh...new development.”

Her smile faded. He was leaving. People always did. Her parents, who never remained in town with their kids for long. The vast majority of her friends who hung around only because she was royalty. The dozens of tutors who only helped for long enough to get a good reference before moving on to an easier job than five hell-raising sisters.

Schooling her features to remain impassive, she sat down in a leather wingback chair. She needed the isolation that chair represented. She didn’t need him tempting her by sitting next to her on the sofa or walking up to her to brush against her. Touch her. Weaken her resolve.

“Tell me.” She met his gaze. Steeled herself.

“Remember that I told you I called my father a couple of days ago to tell him about the baby?” His dark eyes found hers for a moment before he stalked toward the wall of windows and looked down at the field. “Apparently, he decided to make a surprise visit.”

“Your father is here? In the building or in New Orleans?”

The tight feeling in her chest returned, seizing hold of her. Erika was as unsure of how to deal with his family as she was her own. Selfishly, she had hoped they would have alone time together—without family making plays and demands—to figure out how to handle their situation. And to figure out if there was something there between them, after all.

“He was in the building but he’s taking his girlfriend out to lunch before coming to the house later. I wanted to warn you in person and couldn’t leave work.”

More confirmation she didn’t want to hear. But she felt compelled to hear it anyway. “Why do I need warning?”

“He’s not a good person in spite of being charming as hell when he wants to be. I just want to make sure you’re prepared. Feel free to steer clear of him.”

“I can take care of myself. If he becomes too much to handle, I will flip him with Krav Maga I learned in the military.” The warrior blood boiled beneath her skin. She would not be taken for a fool.

“You’re pregnant.”

“I am not incapacitated. But if you are concerned, I will simply pretend I do not understand his English.” Uncrossing her arms, she gave him a wickedly innocent grin. Eyes wide for full effect. “It worked on almost half the tutors who showed up at the Mitras household prepared to teach the rebellious princesses.”

“Good plan. Wish I’d thought of that as a kid.”

A laugh escaped him and he turned toward her, a good-natured smile pushing at his cheeks. Funny how that smile slid right past her resolve to let logic prevail. To be levelheaded. That shared laugh stirred a whole wealth of feelings that had been building inside her ever since she’d stepped onto the practice field to face Gervais Reynaud.

Thinking back to the photograph on the desk, she had to admit, she was curious about him. His past. What it was like growing up in New Orleans. She had so many things to learn about him that it could take a lifetime. And wasn’t it perfectly reasonable of her to learn more about him when her children would share his genes?

Emboldened by the rationalization, she thought she might as well begin her quest to know him better right now. “But you did not need to arm yourself with elaborate schemes to outwit the grown-ups around you as a child. You and your brothers are so close—or the three of you I’ve met.”

The faintest pull of unease touched his lips. “We weren’t always. Dempsey didn’t come to live with us until he was thirteen. Our dad... Maybe you already know this.”

“No, I do not.”

“That’s right.” He shifted away from the windows to move closer to her, taking a seat on the edge of the desk. “You’re not a big follower of football and the players.”

“I am learning to be. You make me curious about anything that relates to you.” Leaning forward, she touched his arm gently.

“I’m glad.” A small victory. She could see him struggling with his family history, despite the fact that it was, apparently, public knowledge.

“Why did Dempsey come to live with you later?”

“We have different mothers.”

“Your parents got divorced? But—” That certainly did not seem strange.

He met her gaze, his expression tight. “The ages don’t match up. I’m the oldest, then Dempsey, followed by Henri and Jean-Pierre. Dad slept around on Mom, a lot.”

“Gervais, I am so very sorry.” She touched his arm lightly, which was as much sympathy as she dared offer without risking him pulling away or shutting down.

“My father used to go to clubs with his friends. Remember, this was before the internet made it possible to stalk your date before you’d ever met.” He took another breath, clearly uncomfortable.

Erika’s eyes widened, realizing that he was opening up to her.

“All families have...dead bones in the closet,” she said quietly.

A smile pushed against his lips. “You mean skeletons?”

“Is that not the same thing?” She ran her hand over his.

“More or less, I suppose. Anyway, he hooked up with Dempsey’s mom, Yvette, at a jazz club. She got pregnant. Worked a lot of jobs to raise Dempsey, but never found my father, since he hadn’t even been honest about who he was, apparently. Until his image was blasted all over the sports page and she recognized his face. Yvette thought it was her ticket out of the slums. She arranged a meeting with my father. But he insisted Dempsey become part of the family. And Dempsey’s mother agreed. For a price.”

How horrible for Dempsey. And, from Gervais’s perspective, how horrible it must have been for him to assimilate a new brother almost his own age when they were both young teens. She avoided focusing on him, however, guessing he would only shift gears if she did.

“That had to be strange for your mother,” she observed lightly.

He bit back a bark of a laugh. “Strange? She wasn’t much of a motherly type. After one more kid got added to the mix, she left.”

“That is so much change for children.” Her heart swelled with sympathy for him. She had no idea that there was so much struggle in the Reynaud family.

“We didn’t handle it well. I was jealous. Henri was my shadow, so he followed my lead. We blamed Dempsey for breaking up our parents, which was ridiculous from an adult perspective. But kids can be cruel.”

“What happened?”

He looked at her sidelong. “We were living in Texas then. Staying at our grandfather’s ranch while our father chased our mother around, trying to work things out. Anyway, I dared Dempsey to ride a horse. The biggest, meanest horse on the ranch.”

“Oh, my.”

“You don’t sound horrified.”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Remember? My sisters threw me out a third-story window. I know how siblings treat each other even when they have grown up together.”

“True enough.” He nodded. “Of course, he had no idea how to ride—not even a nice horse. So he was...completely unprepared for a high-strung Thoroughbred used to getting her own way.”

“That’s scary. What happened?”

“She threw him clear off, but he landed awkwardly and broke his leg. We both almost got trampled while Henri and Jean-Pierre ran to get help.”

“You did not mean to break his leg.” Ah, sibling cruelty was something that existed in all countries.

“Things were difficult between us for a long while, even once we all made up. I don’t want my children to live in a fractured family. Not if I can help it. I want them to have a firm sense of belonging, a sense of being a Reynaud.”

“And a Mitras,” she reminded him.

“Yes. Both.” He reached out to take her hands in his and squeezed. “I want your strength in our children. They will need it.”

His words warmed her even more than his touch, and that was saying a lot when a thrill danced over her skin.

Too breathless to answer, she bit her lip, unwilling to allow a dreamy sigh to escape.

“Erika, please stay here with me for a while. We need more time to get to know each other.” He drew her to her feet, his eyes pleading with hers at a time when her resolve was at an all-time low.

Her heart beat wildly, her lips parted. Anticipating the press of his mouth to hers.

He rubbed her arms, sliding them up until his hands tangled in her hair. They kissed deeply, with open mouths and passion. Tendrils of desire pulsed through her as he explored her mouth with his tongue, tasting her as she tasted him right back. She had not been passive in their lovemaking before, and she could already feel the urge to seize control driving her to the brink now.

It could have gone on like that for hours, for days even, if not for the sound of the door opening. She pushed back. Looked down. Away. At anything else but him.

While Gervais spoke in a low voice to his secretary, Erika used the time to collect herself. Straighten her dress. Find her purse. She had to figure this out soon. It was apparent there was chemistry simmering hot just beneath the surface. But now there was also a tenderness of feeling. An emotional connection. How would she ever forget that look in Gervais’s eyes when he told her about the guilt of seeing Dempsey hurt? Of course she understood why he wanted to keep his own family intact. His children connected.

That was admirable, and a deeper draw for her than the sensual spell he cast around her without even trying. It had been difficult enough resisting just one.

How would she ever keep her wits about her with both those persuasive tools at his disposal?

* * *

On the private plane to St. Louis later that week, Erika replayed the kiss in Gervais’s office over and over again. Of course, she had already relived that moment in her mind more than once, awake and asleep. Every look between them was filled with so much steam she could barely think, much less trust herself to make logical decisions around him.

At least they were on different planes today, so she could avoid temptation for a few hours. All the wives and girlfriends traveled first-class, while the team went on a chartered craft. Gervais had a meeting in Chicago first, something to do with corporate sponsorship for the Hurricanes. But he would arrive in St. Louis at the same time she did.

With any luck, she could use this flight to get her bearings straight.

But even as she tried to focus on being objective, her mind wandered back to the kiss in the office. A kiss that hadn’t been repeated despite the fact that they’d spent time together over the past few days. It felt as though he was always on the clock, managing something for the team or overseeing business for one of the other Reynaud family concerns. So he was a bit of a workaholic; not a flaw in her opinion. In fact, she respected how seriously he took his work. He expected nothing to be handed to him in life.

And when they were together, he was fully present. Attentive. Thoughtful. He’d even helped deflect an awkward run-in with his father and his father’s girlfriend because she hadn’t felt ready to face Theo after what she’d learned about him. And knowing how little his own son trusted him.

Erika’s instincts had seldom failed her. In London, there had been something between them. Something she hadn’t imagined. And the more she thought about the past few days, the more excited she was to be with him again. To have another kiss. To throw away caution as quickly as clothes peeled away in the heat of passion.

To make love again and discover if the fire burned as hot between them as she remembered.

Erika clutched a long silver necklace in her hand, running the charm back and forth. Just as she did as a child.

Fiona, Henri’s wife, gently touched her arm. “You know, we have a book club to help pass the time when we’re on the road with the guys.”

“A book club?” She glanced at the row across from her, to where Gervais’s father’s girlfriend stared intently at a fashion magazine.

Fiona scrunched her nose. “I should have asked. Do you like to read?”

“Which language?”

Fiona laughed lightly. “No need to get all princess-sy on me.”

“I apologize. That was meant to be a joke. Sometimes nuances, even though I speak all those languages, get lost. Tell me more about the book club.”

“We choose books to read during all those flights and then we have one helluva party while we discuss them.”

“Party?”

Fiona nodded. “Spa or five-star restaurant or even the best room service we can buy.”

“Did Gervais ask you to sit here and use the time to convince me it is fun to be on the road?” Try as she might, Erika couldn’t keep the dry sarcasm out of her voice.

“I am simply helping you make an informed decision. It’s not just about partying. We have homeschooling groups for families with children, as well.” Shadows passed briefly through her eyes before Fiona cleared her throat. “It’s amazing what you can teach a child when your field trips involve traveling around the country. Even overseas sometimes for the preseason. Our kids have bonds, too. There are ways to make this kind of family work. Family is important.”

Damn. That struck a chord with her. Maybe Fiona had a point. She had just dismissed the women of the group without bothering to really get to know them. And that certainly was not fair.

Maybe she could strengthen her ties to Gervais’s world this way. She already knew she wanted to explore their relationship more thoroughly—to take that first step of trust with him and see where indulging their sensual chemistry would lead. But in the meantime, why not work on forging bonds within his world? If things between them didn’t work and they ended up co-parenting on opposite sides of the world, she would need allies in the Reynaud clan and in the Hurricanes organization. Growing closer to Fiona would be a good thing for her children.

All perfectly logical.

Except that a growing part of Erika acknowledged she wasn’t just thinking about a rational plan B anymore. With each day that passed, with every moment that she craved Gervais, Erika wanted plan A to work. And that meant this trip was going to bring her much closer to the powerful father of her children.

* * *

There was nothing Gervais hated more than a loss. It rubbed him the wrong way, sending him into a dark place, even though he knew that a preseason loss didn’t matter. The preseason was about training. Testing formations. Trying out new personnel. The final tally on the score sheet didn’t count toward anything meaningful.

Opening the door to his suite, he was taken aback by what he saw on the bed. Erika in a Hurricanes jersey. On her, it doubled as a dress, hitting her midthigh. Exposing her toned legs.

His mind eased off the loss, focused on what was in front of him. “I wanted to catch you before you went to bed.”

She closed the book she’d been reading and uncurled her legs, stretching them out on the bed. “I am sorry about the game.”

“I won’t lie. I’m disappointed we lost this one. But I’m realistic enough to know we can’t win every time, especially in the preseason when we don’t play all of our starters or utilize our best offensive strategies. The whole point of the preseason is like a testing ground. We can create realistic scenarios and see what happens when we experiment.” He told himself as much, but it didn’t soothe him when he saw a rookie make poor decisions on the field or watched a risky play go up in flames.

“You have a cool head. That is admirable.”

Her head tilted sympathetically.

Gervais was floored. Unsure of what to make about Erika’s behavior. For the first time since her arrival in the United States, it felt as if she was opening up to him. But could that be?

She’d been so adamant on keeping distance between them, urging logic over passion. She was probably just being polite to him. After all, they would have to be civil to each other for the sake of the children. She had said as much more than once.

Still, damn it, he knew what he saw in her eyes, and she wanted him every bit as much as he wanted her. Back in his arms.

In his bed.

“Thank you. I’m sorry I’ve been so busy the past few days.” He had taken a red-eye to Chicago to be there this morning for a meeting to secure a new corporate sponsor for the team. He was exhausted, but the extra hours had paid off, and he was one step closer to making the Hurricanes the wealthiest team in the league.

“You have been very thoughtful.” She leaned forward, her posture open, words unclipped.

Her gaze was soft on him. And appreciative, he noticed. So maybe he hadn’t been so off base. “I was concerned you would feel neglected having to fly in a separate plane.”

“I understand you have other commitments. And I had a lovely conversation with Fiona—in case you were wondering, since you made sure we had seats beside each other.” Erika raised her eyebrows as if daring him to deny it.

“Are you angry?” He couldn’t help that he wanted to give her reasons to stay in New Orleans. But he knew she did not appreciate being manipulated.

He’d never met a more independent woman.

“Actually, no. She was helpful in explaining the logistics of how wives blend in to the lifestyle of this team you own.”

He hadn’t expected that.

“She answered all of your questions?”

“Most...” Shifting on the bed, she crawled toward him. “I had cats when I grew up.”

All of his exhaustion disappeared.

His eyes couldn’t help but watch her lithe form, the way her breasts pushed against the jersey he’d given her. An unforgettable vision.

And the sensory overload left him dumbly saying, “Okay.”

“We had dogs, too, but the cats were mine.”

Trying his damnedest to pull his eyes up from the length of her exposed legs, he stumbled over the next sentence, too. Focusing on words was hard. And he had thought that tonight’s loss had left him speechless. That was nothing compared to the sight in front of him. “Um, what were their names?”

Erika’s lips plumped into a smile as she knelt on the bed in front of him. “You do not need to work this hard or pretend to woo me.”

“I’m not pretending. I am interested in everything about you.” And he was. Mind, spirit...and body. He tried to keep his mind focused on the conversation. On whatever she wanted to talk about.

“Then you will want to know the real reason why I mentioned the cats. I loved my cats. And yet my children—our children—will not be able to have pets when they are traveling all over the country to follow this team that is part of their legacy.” She gave him a playful shove, her smile still coy.

“Actually, I have a baseball buddy whose wife travels with her dog.” He deserved a medal for making this much conversation when she looked like that. “I think the guy renegotiated his contract to make sure she got to have her dog with her.”

“Oh,” Erika whispered breathily. Moved closer to him, hands resting on his arms. Sending his body reeling from her touch.

“Yes, oh. So what other questions went unanswered today? Bring it. Because I’m ready.”

“I do have one more question I did not dare to ask your sister-in-law.” Her hands slid up to his neck. Pulled him close. Whispered with warm breath into his ear. “Will it mess up your season mojo if we have sex?”

Nine

Erika’s heart hammered, threatening to fall right out of her chest as she stared at Gervais. All the time on the plane and waiting for him tonight had led her here. To this moment. And while the direction of her life may have been still uncertain, she knew this was right.

This was exactly where she needed to be. There was a closeness between them, one she had been actively fighting against.

Gervais’s eyebrows shot upward. “What brought on this change?”

“I desire you. You want me, too, if I am not mistaken.” Direct. Cool. She could do this.

“You are not mistaken. I have always wanted you. From the moment I first saw you. Even more now.”

“Then we should stop denying ourselves the one thing that is uncomplicated between us.” And it was the truth. Everything was happening so fast, but it was undeniable that there was an attraction between them. In her gut, she knew that he would be there to support their babies. But it was more than that.

It was a deeper connection between them. When she had boarded the plane for New Orleans, she hadn’t expected much from him. People had a nasty habit of leaving her, using her for the minimal privileges her royal status awarded her. She’d never expected to be welcomed and treated so well. In the past, her friends were dazzled by the idea of her world, rarely seeing beyond the outer trappings to the person beneath.

She also hadn’t thought his family would be so accepting. It had scared her a bit, how many people were in the Reynaud clan. The number of people suddenly fussing over her and trying to get to know her had been overwhelming.

But they had also been kind. And maybe, just maybe, she’d be able to see past her preconceived notions about family. She had no real idea how to make a family anyway. But with Gervais...

“You’re sure?” His forehead furrowed as he scrutinized her face. The look said everything. This was as far as he’d go without confirmation from her.

“Completely certain.” She wanted to take a chance on him. On them. To give them an opportunity to be a couple.

And now that she’d made the decision after careful reasoning, she could finally allow her emotions to surface. She felt all her restraints melting away in the heat of the passion she’d been denying.

Even as she felt those walls disintegrate, she could sense a shift in Gervais. Like shedding a jacket and tie, he seemed to set aside his controlled exterior as a look of pure male desire flashed through his gaze. He closed the distance between them, his brown eyes dark and hungry while he raked his gaze over her.

He peeled the jersey up and over her head. She shook her hair free in waves that fanned behind her, leaving her rounded breasts bared to his devouring gaze. Heat pulsed through her veins—and relief. She had missed him since their incredible time together two and a half months ago, and she’d worked so hard to keep her desire for him in check for the sake of her babies so that she could make a smart decision where he was concerned. Now it felt so amazing to let go of those fears and simply fall into him.

She’d wondered what he would think of the subtle changes pregnancy had brought to her body. Her full breasts had fit in his palms before; now she knew they would overflow a hint more.

But Gervais’s eyes were greedier for her than ever, and he stared at her with need he didn’t bother to hide. Lowering her to rest on her back, he followed her down to the bed, his touch gentle but firm. His woodsy scent familiar and making her ache for him.

He hooked his thumbs in the sides of her pale blue panties, tugging gently until she raised her hips to accommodate. He slipped the scrap of satin down and off, flinging it aside to rest on top of the discarded Hurricanes jersey. His throat moved in a slow gulp. “That incredible image will be seared in my brain for all time.”

He rocked back for a moment, his eyes roving over her.

Then his gaze fell to rest on the ever so slight curve of her stomach. The pregnancy was still early, but now she realized that the twins had been the reason her pants had grown a little snug faster than she would have expected.

A glint of protectiveness lit his eyes. “Are you sure this is safe? You passed out just last week. I don’t want to do anything that could risk your health.”

She thought she might die if he did not touch her, actually. But she kept that thought locked away.

“The doctor said I am healthy and cleared for all activities, including sex. Well, as long as we do not indulge in acrobatics.” A wicked memory flashed through her brain. “Perhaps we should not re-create that interlude on the kitchen table in your London hotel room.”

His heart slugged hard against his chest. Against hers. She wanted to arch into his warmth like a cat seeking the sun.

“No acrobatics. Understood.” He trailed kisses beneath her ear and down her neck. “I look forward to treating you like spun glass.”

A shiver tripped down her spine, her skin tingling with awareness. Tingles of heat gathered between her legs, making her long for more. For everything.

“I will not break,” she promised, needing the pleasure only he could bring her.

He skimmed a fingertip down the length of her neck.

“Oh, careful, light touches can be every bit as arousing as our more aggressive weekend together.”

She licked her lips. Swallowed over her suddenly dry throat.

“I look forward to your persuasion—once you take those clothes off.” She ran her hands down his chest and back up his shoulders. “Because, Gervais...” She savored the feel of his name on her tongue. “You are seriously overdressed for the occasion. Undress for me.”

His brown eyes went molten black with heat at her invitation, and his hands went to work on his tie, loosening the knot and tugging the length free, slowly, then draping the silver length over the chaise at the end of the bed. And oh my, how she enjoyed the way he took his time. One fastening at a time, he opened his white button-down until it flapped loose, revealing his broad, muscled chest in a T-shirt. In a deliberate motion he swept both aside and laid them carefully over his tie.

Her mouth went moist and she bit her bottom lip. She recalled exactly why she hadn’t bothered with light, teasing touches the last time they were together. His body was so powerful, his every muscle honed. She hadn’t been able to hold herself back the last time.

He winked at her with a playfulness that she didn’t see in this intense man often.

She could not stop a wriggle of impatience, the Egyptian cotton sheets slick against her rapidly heating flesh.

Then all playfulness left his eyes as swiftly as he took off his shoes and pants, leaving his toned body naked and all for her.

The thick length of him strained upward against his stomach. Unable to hold back, she sat up to run her hands up his chest, then down his sides, his hips, forward to clasp his steely strength in his hands. To stroke, again and again, teasing her thumb along the tip.

With a growl of approval and impatience, he stretched over her while keeping his full weight off her. He braced on his elbows, cupping her face and slanting his mouth along hers. His tongue filled her mouth and she knew soon, not soon enough, he would fill her body again.

His hands molded to her curves, exploring each of her erogenous zones with a perfection that told her he remembered every moment of their time together as much as she did. His hard thigh parted her legs, the firm pressure against her core sending her arching closer, wriggling against him, growing moist and needy. She clutched at his shoulders, breathy whispers sliding free as she urged him to take her. Now. No more waiting. He’d tormented her dreams long enough.

Then the blunt thickness of him pushed into her, inch by delicious inch. He was so gentle and strong at the same time. She knew she would have to be the one to demand more. Harder. Faster. And she did. With her words and body, rocking against him, her fingers digging into his taut ass to bring them both the completion they sought.

Her fingers crawled up his spine again and she pushed at his shoulders, nudging until he rolled to his back, taking her with him in flawless athleticism. His power, his strength, thrilled her. She straddled him, her sleek blond hair draped over her breasts, her nipples just peeking through and tightening. Gervais swept aside her hair and took one pink peak in his mouth. He circled with his tongue, sending bolts of pleasure radiating through her. Sighs of bliss slipped from between her lips. She rolled her hips faster, riding him to her completion. Wave after wave of her orgasm pulsed through her.

She heard his own hoarse shout of completion, the deep sounds sending a fresh wash of pleasure through her until she melted forward onto his chest. Sated. Every nerve tingling with awareness in the aftermath.

The swish of the ceiling fan sent goose bumps along her skin. The fine thread count of the sheets soothed her.

But most of all, the firm muscled length of him felt so good; the swirls of his body hair tempted her to writhe along him again.

If she could move.

And just like that, Erika realized how utterly complicated being with him was. Because like it or not, she had feelings for him. Feelings that were threatening to cloud her judgment.

And while this may have felt right for her, she needed to be sure it was right for him, too.

* * *

Gervais poured the flowery-scented shampoo into his hand. Her magnolia scent filled the steam and teased his senses as they stood under the shower spray in a vintage claw-foot tub. The sheer plastic curtain gave both privacy and a view of the room filled with fresh flowers he’d ordered sent up especially for her.

There was so very much he wanted to do for—and to—this incredible woman.

Drawing Erika close to him, he kissed her neck, nuzzled behind her ear, savored the wet satin of her skin against his bare flesh. Already he could feel the urge building inside him to lift her legs around his waist and surge inside her. To bring them both to completion again, but he was determined to take his time, to build the moment.

And yes, draw out the pleasure.

He lathered her hair, the bubbles and her hair slick between his fingers as he massaged her scalp. Her light moan of bliss encouraged him on, filling him with a sense of power over fulfilling all her needs. He continued to rub along her head, then gently along her neck, down to her shoulders in a slight massage. He wanted to pamper her, to show her he was serious about her and the babies.

She leaned into his touch but stayed silent. Feeling her let out a deep sigh, he decided he wanted to really get to know this beautiful, incredible woman. Sure, they’d spent some time together...but there was still so much he could learn about her. That he wanted to learn about her. Everything, not just about her beautiful body, but also about that magnificently brilliant mind of hers.

Such as why she had chosen a career in the military after growing up as royalty.

“So tell me about your time in the service. What did you really do?”

“Just what I told you that day we met.”

“Truly? Nothing more? Not some secret spy role? Or dark ops career no one can ever know about?”

“How does the saying go in your country? I could tell you but then I would have to kill you.”

He laughed softly against her mouth. “As long as we go while naked together, I’ll die a happy man.”

She swatted his butt playfully, then her smile faded. “Truthfully, there is nothing more to tell. I was a translator and handled some diplomacy meetings.”

“I admire that about you.” It had been a brave move. A noble, selfless act.

Shrugging, she tipped her shampooed head back into the water. Erika closed her eyes, clearly enjoying the feel of the steamy water. The suds caught on her curves, drawing his gaze. She was damn sexy.

“Why are you so dismissive of your service to your country?”

Eyes flashed open, defensive. He could tell it in the way she chewed on her lip before she answered, “I wanted to be a field medic and go into combat zones. But I was not allowed.”

He nodded, trying to be sympathetic. To understand the complication of letting a princess, even from defunct royalty, into an active war zone.

“I can see how your presence could pose a security risk for those around you. You would be quite a high-value captive.”

Her half smile carried a hint of cynicism. “While that is true, that was not the reason. My parents interfered. They did not want me to work or join at all. They wanted me to marry someone rich and influential, like I was some pawn in a royal chess game from a thousand years ago.”

“Still, you made your own way. That’s commendable. Why a field nurse and not in a military hospital?” He respected her drive. And her selfless career choices. She wanted to help people. Something told him she would have been a good field medic. Strong, knowledgeable, fearless.

“I did not want special treatment or protection because of my family’s position. And still, I ended up as a translator not even allowed anywhere near a combat zone.” Her voice took on a new determination. A tenacity he found incredibly attractive.

“So you made plans to continue your education after your service was finished.” He knew she’d registered for coursework that would begin next month in the UK but had assumed she would ask for her spot to be held until after the children were born.

“I will not be deterred from my plans because of my family’s interference.” Eyes narrowed at him. Every bit a princess with that haughty stare. “I can support myself.”

“Of course you can.” He brought his negotiating skills to the conversation, hoping to make her see reason. “This is about more than money, though. You have a lot on your plate. Let me help you and the babies while you return to school.”

“That makes it sound like I am incapable of taking care of myself the way my parents always said.” Bitterness edged back into her voice. And something that sounded like dulled resignation.

“This isn’t just about you. Or me. We have children to think of. You know I want you to marry me. I’ve made that clear. But if your answer is still no, at least move in with me. Make this easier for all—”

She pressed her mouth to his, silencing him until she leaned back, water dripping between them again.

“Gervais, please, this time is for us to get to know one another better. This kind of pressure from you about the future is counterproductive.”

One thing was for sure—she had been opening up. Maybe asking her to marry him again was too much too soon. But he could feel the connection between them growing. So he would back off. But not forever. He just had to figure out a way to show her how good they were together. “Then how about we find food?”

Her smile was so gorgeous the water damn near steamed off his skin. “Food? Now that is music to this pregnant woman’s ears.”

* * *

The strands of Erika’s hair fell damp against the cloth of the jersey. They sat in the suite’s kitchen. She was on the countertop, cross-legged, peering over at Gervais’s back.

He’d retrieved an assortment of ripe fruit—pitted cherries, chocolate-dipped strawberries, pineapple slices and peach slices. At the center of the platter was a bowl of indulgent-looking cream.

Stomach growling, she looked on in anticipation. He brought it next to her and pulled up a bar stool so that they were eye level.

Extending her hand to grab a cherry, he stopped her.

“Let me, Princess.” With a playful smile, he lifted a cherry to her lips. Inside, she felt that now-familiar heat pulse. He was tender, charming.

A threat to her plan of objectivity, too.

She popped a chocolate-dipped strawberry into his mouth. He licked the slightly melted chocolate off her fingertips, sending her mind back to the shower. Back to when she had thought this was uncomplicated.

Needing to take control of the situation, Erika cleared her throat. Her goal was the same as before. To get to know him. “What did you want to be as a little boy growing up?”

Finishing chewing, he tilted his head to the side. “Interesting question.”

“How so?” It had seemed like a perfectly reasonable question. One she had been meaning to ask for a while now.

“Everyone assumes I wanted to be a pro football player.”

To Erika, Gervais had seemed like the kind of man who wasn’t nearly as cut-and-dried as that. He might live and breathe football, but it didn’t seem as if it was the only dimension to him. Childhood dreams said a lot, after all. She’d wanted to be a shield maiden from long ago. To protect and shelter people. Her adult dream was still along those lines.

A nurse did such things. “And you did not want to be a football player like the rest of your family?”

“I enjoy the game. Clearly. I played all through elementary school into high school because I wanted to. I didn’t have to accept the offer to play at the college level. I could afford any education I wanted.”

“But your childhood dream?” She pressed on, before taking the cream-covered peach slice he’d offered her. She savored the taste of the sweetness of the peach against the salty flavor of his fingers.

Looking down at his feet, then back at her, he smiled sheepishly. “As a kid, I wanted to drive a garbage truck.”

Her jaw dropped. Closed. Then opened again as she said, “Am I missing something in translation? You wished to drive a truck that picks up trash?”

“I did. When my parents argued, I would go outside to hide from the noise. Sometimes it got so loud I had to leave. So I rode my bike to follow the garbage truck. I would watch how that crusher took everyone’s trash and crushed it down to almost nothing. As a kid that sounded very appealing.”

Thinking of him pedaling full-tilt down the roads as a child put an ache in her heart she couldn’t deny. “I am sorry your parents hurt you that way.”

“I just want you to understand I take marriage and our children’s happiness seriously.”

His brown eyes met hers. They were heated with a ferocity she hadn’t seen before.

This offer of a life together was real to him. His offer was genuine, determined. And from a very driven man. She needed to make up her mind, and soon, or she could fast lose all objectivity around Gervais.

Ten

It had only been three days since he’d gotten home from the loss in St. Louis. He needed time to think of his next strategy. And not just for the Hurricanes. With Erika, too.

Which was exactly why he’d pulled on his running shorts and shirt. Laced up his shoes and hit the pavement, footsteps keeping him steady.

Focused.

Sweat curled off his upper lip, the taste of salt heavy in his mouth. The humid Louisiana twilight hummed with the songs of the summer bugs and birds.

This always set his mind right. The sound of foot to pavement. Inhale. Exhale. The feel of sweat on his back.

He’d been quite the runner growing up. Always could best his brothers in distance and speed. Especially Jean-Pierre, his youngest brother.

Jean-Pierre had to work harder than all his older brothers to keep up with them as they ran. Running had been something of a Reynaud rite of passage. Or so Gervais had made it out to be. He’d always pushed his brothers for a run. It was an escape from the yelling and fighting that went on at their home. Whether the family was at the ranch in Texas, on the expansive property on Lake Pontchartrain or on the other side of the globe, there was always room to run, and Gervais had made use of those secured lands to give them all some breathing space from the parental drama.

Slowing his pace, he stopped to tighten his shoelace. Looking at the sparkling water of the lake, he realized it had been too long since he talked to Jean-Pierre. Months.

Gervais knew he needed to call him...but things hadn’t been the same since Jean-Pierre left Louisiana Tech to play for the Gladiators in New York. Sure, Jean-Pierre maintained a presence on the family compound, sharing upkeep of one of the homes where he stayed when he flew into town. But how often had that been over the past few years? Even in the off-season, Jean-Pierre tended to stick close to New York and his teammates on the Gladiators. When he did show up in New Orleans, it was to take his offensive line out on his boat or for a raucous party that was more for friends than family.

How Jean-Pierre managed to stay away from this quirky, lively city was beyond Gervais. When they were younger, the family had spent a lot of time in Texas. Which, make no mistake, Gervais loved, but there was a charm to New Orleans, a quality that left the place rarified.

He wanted to share those things with Erika. The cultural scene was unbeatable, and the food. Well, he’d yet to take her to his favorite dessert and dancing place. He pictured taking her out for another night on the Big Easy with him. She’d love it if she’d give him a chance to show her.

And though they’d fallen into a pattern over the past few days, he felt as distant as ever and all because she wouldn’t commit even though they had children on the way. Sure, they made love nightly now. And he relished the way her body writhed beneath his touch. But it wasn’t enough. He bit his tongue about the future and she didn’t say anything about leaving.

Or staying.

And he wanted her to stay. Starting to run again, he picked up the intensity. Ran harder, faster.

He didn’t want her to leave. He didn’t want a repeat of London. Before he’d even woken up, she’d packed her things and let herself out of the hotel suite. Though it had been only one weekend, he had fallen for her. Now they’d spent days together.

Rather blissful days. Mind wandering, he thought to the last night in St. Louis when they’d explored the rooftop garden that was attached to their hotel suite. There’d been a slight chill in the air, but things between them had been on fire. In his memory, he traced the curves on her body.

Though she might be pumping the brakes on the future, he was getting to know her. To see past her no-nonsense facade to the woman who was a little sarcastic, kindhearted and generous.

The thought of her just leaving again like in London...it made his gut sink.

Rounding the last corner on his run, he didn’t hold back. He sprinted all out, as if that would allow him to hold on to Erika.

This was damn awful timing, too. He knew he needed to focus on his career. To turn the Hurricanes into a financial dynasty to back the championship team Dempsey assured them they had in place. And this thing with Erika—whatever it might be—was not helping him. Sure, he’d nabbed that sponsor in Chicago. But every day he spent with her was a day that he wasn’t securing another sponsor that would make the Hurricanes invincible as a business and not just a team. They’d been teetering on the brink of folding when he’d purchased them, and he’d reinvigorated every facet since then, but his work was far from done to keep them in the black.

But damn. He could not. No. He would not just let her leave as she had before. This wasn’t just about the fact they were having a family, or that they were amazing together in bed.

Quickening his pace, he saw the Reynaud compound come into sight. The light was on in Erika’s bedroom.

His grandfather had taught him a few things when he was a kid. Two of the most important: build your dream and family is everything. Two simple statements. And he wanted Erika to be a part of that. To create the kind of home that his own kids would never want to run from.

* * *

Sitting cross-legged on a cushioned chair in the massive dining room, Erika absently spread raspberry jam on her puffy biscuit. Try as she might, she couldn’t force her mind to be present. To be in the moment.

Instead, her thoughts drifted back to Gervais and last night. He’d knocked on her door after his run. She’d opened the door, let him in. And he’d showered her in determined, passion-filled kisses. There was an urgency, a sincerity in their lovemaking last night. A new dimension to sex she had never thought possible.

Last night had made it even harder for her to be objective about their situation. She wanted Gervais. But she also wanted what was best for them both. Balancing that need seemed almost impossible.

A motion in the corner of her eye brought her back to the present. She found Gervais’s grandfather filling his plate at the buffet with pork grillades and grits, a buttered biscuit on the side.

Gracious, she could barely wait for the morning to wane so the queasy feeling would subside and she could indulge in more of the amazing food of this region. Everything tasted so good, or perhaps that was her pregnancy hormones on overload. Regardless, she was hungry but didn’t dare try more for a couple more hours yet.

She looked back at Gervais’s grandfather, keeping her eyes off the plate of food. Leon hadn’t gone with them to St. Louis, but Gervais had explained how travel anywhere other than from his homes in New Orleans and Texas left the old man disoriented.

He took his place at the head of the table, just to the left of her, and poured himself a cup of thick black coffee from the silver carafe. “So you’re carrying my first great-grandchild—” He tapped his temple near his gray hair. “Grandchildren. You’re having twins. I remember that. Some days my memory’s not so good, but that’s sticking in my brain and making me happy. A legacy. And if you won’t find it disrespectful of me to say so, I believe it’s going to be a brilliant, good-looking legacy.” He toasted her with his china coffee cup.

“Thank you, sir. No disrespect taken at all. That’s a delightful thing to say, especially the smart part.” She gave him a wink as she picked at her biscuit. Praise of her intelligence was important. Erika had worked hard to be more than a pretty princess. Wanted her worth and merit to be attached to her mind’s tenacity. To realize her dreams of setting up a nurse-practitioner practice of her own someday, one with an entire section devoted to homeopathic medicines and mood-leveling aromatherapy.

“That’s important.” He sipped more of his coffee before digging into his breakfast. “We have a large family empire to pass along, and I want it to go into good hands. I didn’t do so well with my own children. But my grandkids, I’m damn proud of them.”

“Gervais will make a good father.” Of that she had no doubt. He was already so attentive.

“He works too much and takes on too much responsibility to prove he’s not like his old man, but yes, he will take parenthood seriously. He may need some books, though. To study up, since he didn’t have much of a role model. He sure knows what not to do, though.” A laugh rasped from the man’s cracked lips and he finished more of his coffee.

“I believe you played a strong part in bringing up your grandchildren.” She reached for the carafe and offered to refill his cup, even though she wasn’t drinking coffee. She stuck to juice and water these days.

He nodded at her, eyes turning inward as if he was reading something she couldn’t see. “I tried to step in where I could. Didn’t want to bring up spoiled, silver-spoon-entitled brats again.” His focus returned to her. “I like that you went into the military. That speaks well of your parents.”

Her mother and father had pitched an unholy fit over that decision, but she would not need to say as much. “It was an honor to serve my country.”

“Good girl. What do you plan to do now that your studies are on hold?”

Technically, they weren’t. She would be back in university in autumn.

“When I return to school, I will undertake the program to become a nurse-practitioner, even as a single mother.” And she would. No matter how long it took.

“Really? I didn’t expect you to, um—”

“Work for a living? Few do, even after my military service.” Her voice went softer than she would have liked.

“You’ll take good care of my grandson when I’m gone?” His question pierced her tender heart on a morning when her emotions were already close to the surface.

“Sir, you appear quite spry to me.”

“That’s not what I mean and if you’re wanting to be a nurse-practitioner, you probably know that.” He tapped his temple again. “It’s here that I worry about giving out too soon. The doctors aren’t sure how fast. Sometimes I prefer the days I don’t remember talking to those experts.”

“I am so very sorry.” She hadn’t spent a lot of time with Leon Reynaud. But she could tell he was a good man who cared a lot about his family. And the stories Gervais told her only confirmed that.

“Thank you. Meanwhile, I want to get to know you and spend time with you so you can tell my great-grans all about me.” He pointed with his biscuit for emphasis and she couldn’t help but smile.

“That sounds delightful,” she said to Gramps, but her eyes trailed over his head. To Gervais, who strode into the dining hall.

Sexy. That was the only word that pulsed in her mind as she looked at him. Dressed in a blue button-down shirt, he looked powerful.

“Don’t mind me,” he mumbled, smiling at her. “Just grabbing some breakfast before heading to the office. You can go back to telling embarrassing stories about me, Gramps.”

Gramps chuckled. “I was just getting ready to tell my favorite.”

Gervais gave him a faux-injured grin, swiping a muffin and apple from the table.

He stopped next to her. Gave her a hug and a kiss. Not a deep kiss or even lingering. Instead, he gave her one of those familiar kisses. A kiss that spoke of how they’d been together before. That they knew each other’s bodies and taste well. She bit her bottom lip where the taste of him lingered, minty, like his toothpaste.

As he walked away, everything felt...right. Being with him seemed so natural, as if they had been doing this for years. It’d be so easy—too easy—to slide right into this life with him.

And that scared her clean through to her toes.

* * *

It had been a long day at the office, one of the longest since their return from St. Louis. Gervais had tried his best to secure a new technology sponsor for the Hurricanes, a west coast company with deep pockets that was currently expanding their presence in New Orleans. The fit was perfect, but the corporate red tape was nightmarish, and the CEO at the helm hadn’t been as forward thinking as the CFO, whom Gervais had met on another deal the year before. Not everyone understood the tremendous advertising power of connecting with an NFL team, and the CEO of the tech company had been reluctant. Stubborn. It had been a hellish day, but at least the guy hadn’t balked at the deal. Yet.

Gervais had left work midday to talk with some of Gramps’s doctors. They were discussing treatment plans and some of the effects of his new medicines. All he wanted to do was give the best he could to his family.

Family. Gramps. Hurricanes. Jean-Pierre. Work and Reynaud business had swirled in his mind all day. The only thing he wanted to do this evening was see Erika. The thought of her, waiting at home for him, had kept him fighting all day. Besides, he had a gift for her and he couldn’t wait to present it to her.

Walking into her room, he felt better just seeing her. She was sitting on the chaise longue, staring blankly at her suitcase.

Her unzipped suitcase.

That fleeting moment of good feeling vanished. Was she leaving? If he had come home later, would she have already been gone, just like London?

Taking a deep breath, he set aside his gift for her and surveyed the room. The two arrangements of hydrangeas and magnolias were on her dresser alongside an edible bouquet of fruit. He’d had them sent to her today while he was at work. For her to think about their time in St. Louis together.

As he continued to look around the room, he didn’t see any clothes pulled out. So they were all either in the drawers or in her bag.

He hoped they were still in the drawers. Gervais didn’t want her to go. Instead, he wanted her to stay here. With him. Be part of his family.

Tapping the suitcase, he stared at Erika “That’s not full, is it?”

He tried to sound light. Casual. The opposite of his current mental state.

She looked up quickly, her eyes such a startling shade of blue. “No, of course not. Why would you think that?”

“You left once before without a word.” He wanted to take her in his arms and coax her into bed for the day, not think about her leaving.

“I promised you I would stay for two weeks and I meant it. After that, though, I have to make a decision.”

He tensed.

“Why? Why the push?”

“I need to move forward with my life at some point.” Chewing her lip, she gestured at the suitcase.

“I’ve asked you to marry me and move in with me, yet still you hold back. Let me help support you while you make a decision, with time if not money, wherever you are.” He would do that for her and more.

She looked at him with a steady, level gaze. “Seriously? Haven’t we had this discussion already? We have time to make these decisions.”

“The sooner we plan, the sooner we can put things into place.”

“Do not rush, damn it. That is not the way I am. My parents learned that when they tried to push me into their way of life, their plans for me.” Her gaze was level, icy.

“So you plan to leave, just not now?”

“I do not know what I am planning.” Her voice came out in a whisper, a slight crack, as well. “I am methodical. I need to think through all of the options and consequences.”

“Is that what you did the morning you left me? Stayed up and thought about why we needed to turn our backs on the best sex ever?” Dropping onto the edge of the bed across from her, he caught her gaze. Looked at the intensity of her blue eyes. She was damn sexy. Beautiful. And he wasn’t going to let her walk away as if this was nothing.

“Best sex ever? I like the sound of that.” She licked her lips seductively, leaned toward him, her breasts pressing against her glittery tank top.

So tempting. And definitely not the direction he needed to take with her.

He raised his brow at her. “You’re trying to distract me with your beautiful body.”

“And you are using flattery. We need more than that.” Crossing her arms, she scrutinized his face.

“I’ve made it clear I understand that. That’s what our time together has been about. But I am willing to use everything I have at my disposal. I am not giving up.”

“Everything?” She gestured to the flowers, the candy and a small jewelry box.

He’d forgotten about the gift he’d brought for her.

Pushing off the bed, he approached her, leaned on the arms of the chaise longue. He kissed her forehead, one arm around her, the other still cradling the box. “Flattery, which is easy because you are so very lovely. Charming words are tougher for me because I am a businessman, but for you, I will work so very hard with the words. And, yes, with gifts, too. Will you at least open it?”

She took the box from his hands, eyes fixed on his. Her fingers found the small bow. Gently, she slowly pulled the white bow off. The Tiffany box was bare, undressed now.

Erika lifted the lid, let out a small gasp. Two heart earrings encrusted in diamonds glinted back at her.

Gervais’s voice dropped half an octave. “It made me think of our children. Two beautiful hearts.”

He tucked a knuckle under her chin and raised it to see her face. Tears welled in her eyes.

Pulse pounding, he put his arms around her, held her tight to his chest. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

She shook her head, her silky blond hair tickling his nose. “It is sweet, truly. Thoughtful. A wonderful gift.”

Kneeling in front of her, he wiped the tears off her pale cheeks. He’d wanted to get her something meaningful. Drawing her hands in his, he kissed the back of each one, then the insides of her wrists in the way he knew sent her pulse leaping. He could feel it even now as he rubbed his thumbs against her silky skin. “I want this to work. Tell me what I can do to make that happen. It is yours.”

Her eyes flooded with conflicting feelings. It was as if he could see into her thought process where she worked so hard to weigh the pros and cons of a future. Somehow he knew she was at the precipice of the answer she’d been looking for. One he was scared as hell to receive.

And, cursing himself for his weakness, he couldn’t resist this one last chance to sway the outcome. To make her want to stay. So he kissed her deeply, ebbing away the pressure of speech to make room for the pleasure they both needed.

Eleven

Gervais had Erika in his arms and he wanted that to go on for... He couldn’t think of a time he wouldn’t want her. Every cell inside him ached to have her. So much so his senses homed in to her. Almost to the exclusion of all else. Almost to the point where he lost sight of the fact he’d left the door ajar.

And now someone was knocking lightly on that door.

With more than a little regret, he set her away from him and struggled to regulate his breathing before turning to the door to find...a security guard?

Hell. How could he have forgotten for even a second that his family’s wealth and power carried risk? They needed to stay on watch at all times.

Security guard James Smithson stood on the other side of the half-open door, his chiseled face grave.

Gervais had always liked James—a young guy, athletic and focused. James had almost made the cut for the team. The poor kid was in an interesting position; he’d declined a college football scholarship when his high school girlfriend became pregnant. James attended an online school while helping raise their son, but he’d shown up at a couple of Hurricanes training camps with impressive drive, even though his stats weren’t quite strong enough.

So before Dempsey could send him home, Gervais had taken him aside and found out he had skills off the field, too. He’d offered him help forming his own security company, making him a part of the Hurricanes family.

“Sorry to disturb you, sir, but we have some unexpected company.”

“I don’t accept unexpected guests. You know that.” Gervais stared at the guard. Who, to be fair, was doing a damn good job at not looking at Erika in her tight-fitting sparkly tank top that revealed her killer curves. Even so, he found himself wanting to wrap her up in a sheet. Just to be safe.

“I understand that, sir,” James assured him. “But...”

Erika looked back and forth between the guard and Gervais. “I’ll leave the two of you to talk.” She closed the jewelry box and clutched it to her chest. “If you’ll excuse me.”

James held up a hand. “Ma’am, I believe you’ll want to stay.”

Ericka’s face twisted in confusion. “I’m not sure how I can be of help—”

James scrubbed his jaw awkwardly. “It’s your family. Their limos are just now coming through the front gate.”

Gervais blinked slowly. “Limos?” Plural?

“My family?” Erika stammered, color draining from her skin. “All of my family?”

James gave a swift nod, his gun just visible in a shoulder harness under his sports jacket. “It appears so, ma’am. Both of your parents, four sisters, three of them married and some children, I believe?”

Gervais scratched the back of his head right about where an ache began. Talk about a baptism of fire meeting all the in-laws at once. So many. “I think we’re going to need to air out the guesthouse.”

* * *

The pressure of a headache billowed between Erika’s temples. As she stood in the grand living room, attention drawn outside, past the confines of this room, she felt everything hit her at once. First, her conflicting feelings for Gervais, and now this.

Her entire family, down to her nieces, was here. Now. Her eyes trailed past the bay windows to where Gervais, her father, Gervais’s brothers and his grandfather stood on the patio. Having drinks as if this was the most casual affair ever. As if this was something they had done together for years. Gervais had a gift with that, taking charge of a situation and putting everyone at ease.

She’d spent so much time focusing on the reasons to hold back, she forgot to look for the reasons they should. There was a lot to admire about this man. His obvious love of his family. His honorability in his standing up to care for his children. And the way he handled his business affairs with a mix of savvy and compassion. Her heart was softening toward him daily, and her resolve was all but gone.

And of course there was the passionate, thorough way he made love to her. A delicious memory tingled through her. She tore her eyes from him before she lost the ability to think reasonably at all.

Her father, Bjorn Mitras, slapped his knee enthusiastically at something Gervais had said. So they were getting along.

The mood inside the living room was decidedly less jovial. She could feel her sisters and mother sizing her up. Determining what Erika ought to do. And if she had to bet, getting her Master’s in Nursing wasn’t even on the table anymore. They’d never supported her ambitions. And if she was carrying a male child...well, they’d certainly have a lot of opinions to throw at her.

For the first time since learning she was pregnant, Erika felt alone.

She had hoped for an ally in Fiona, but Fiona hadn’t come to meet everyone. She wasn’t feeling well. Erika was not feeling all that great herself right now. Her family overwhelmed her in force.

Turning reluctantly from the bay windows, she studied her mother. Arnora Mitras had always been a slight, slim woman. Unlike other royals, she recycled outfits. But Arnora was a friend of many fashion designers. She was always draped in finery, things quite literally off the runway.

Her four sisters—Liv, Astrid, Helga and Hilda—stood in the far corner, discussing things in hushed tones. The twins, Helga and Hilda, both had the same nervous tic, tracing the outline of their bracelets. It was something that they had both done since they were little girls. Erika squinted at them, trying to figure out what had them on edge.

But it was Astrid who caught her gaze. Blue eyes of equal intensity shone back at her. Astrid gave a curt nod, her honey-blond bob falling into her face.

It was a brief moment of recognition, but then Astrid turned back to the conversation. Back to whispering.

Three of her sisters had married into comfort, but not luxury. Not like what the Reynauds offered. And they lived across Europe, leading quieter lives. No male heirs, no extravagance. A part of Erika envied that anonymity, especially now.

Of course, Gervais had seen to every detail. And in record time. He called in all the staff and security. Arranged what looked like a small state dinner in record time. He even had nannies brought in for her nieces.

Beignets, fruit and pralines were decadently arranged into shapes and designed. It looked almost too beautiful to eat. Erika watched as her sisters loaded their plates with the pastries and fruit, but they eyed the pralines with distrust. They weren’t an open-minded bunch. They preferred to stick to what they knew. Which was also probably why they skipped over the iced tea and went straight for the coffee. That was familiar.

“Mother—” the word tumbled out of Erika’s mouth “—some advance notice of your visit would have been nice.”

“And give you the opportunity to make excuses to put us off? I think not.”

Sighing unabashedly, Erika trudged on. “I was not putting you off, Mother. I was simply...”

“Avoiding us all,” Helga finished for her as she approached. The rest of the Mitras women a step behind her.

“Hardly. I wanted time to prepare for your visit and to ensure that every detail was properly attended to.”

Helga gave a wave to the spread of food and raised her brow. She clearly didn’t believe Erika’s protest. “This place is amazing. You landed well, sister.”

“I am only visiting and getting things in order for our babies’ sake.” Erika’s words were clipped, her emotions much more of a tangle.

“Well, you most certainly have something in common. Relationships have been built on less. I say go for it. Chase that man down until he proposes.” The last word felt like nails on a chalkboard in Erika’s ears. She schooled her features neutral, just as she had done when she was a translator. No emotions walked across her face.

Erika stayed diplomatically quiet.

Her mother’s delicately arched eyebrow lifted, and she set her bone china coffee cup down with a slow and careful air. “He has already proposed? You two are getting married?”

“No, I did not say we are getting married.”

“But he has proposed,” Hilda pressed gently.

“Stop. This is why I would have preferred you wait to meet him. Give Gervais and me a chance to work out the details of our lives without family interference, and then we will share our plan.”

Liv waggled her fingers toward the French doors leading to the vast patio. “His family is here.”

“And they are not pushy,” Erika retorted with conviction. She wasn’t backing down from this. Not a chance.

“We are not pushy, either. We just want what is best for you.” Hilda’s porcelain complexion turned ruddy, eyes widening with hurt and frustration like during their childhood whenever people laughed at her lisp. She always had been the most sensitive of the lot.

Smoothing her green dress, Liv—always the prettiest, and the most rebellious, the infamous sex tape being the least of her escapades—took a deep breath and touched her hair. “I think all of this travel has made me a bit weary. I shall rest and we will talk later.”

And with that her mother, Liv, Helga and Hilda all left the grand living room, heels clacking against the ground.

But Astrid didn’t leave. She hung back, eyes fixed on Erika.

Anger burned in Erika’s belly. Astrid was her oldest sister. The one who always told her what to do. She had been the sister to lecture her as a child. Erika fully anticipated some version of that pseudo-parental “advice” to spill out of Astrid’s lips.

“Keep standing up for yourself. You are doing the right thing.”

Gaping, Erika steadied herself on the back of the tapestry sofa. “Seriously? I appreciate the support but I have to say it would be nice to have with Mother present.”

Astrid shrugged. “She is frightening and strong willed. We all know that. But you do understand, you are strong, too. That is why we pushed you off the balcony first.”

“Wow, thanks,” Erika grumbled, recalling the terrifying drop from balcony to homemade trampoline.

“You are welcome.” Astrid closed her in a tight embrace. In a half whisper, she added, “I love you, sister.”

“I love you, too.” That much of life was simple.

If only the other relationships—her relationship with Gervais—could be as easily understood. Or maybe they could. Perhaps the time had come to stop fighting her emotions and to embrace them.

Starting with embracing Gervais.

* * *

With the arrival of Erika’s family, work for the Hurricanes had taken a backseat. Not that he would have had it any other way. They were his children’s aunts and grandparents. They were important to him. He had to win them over—particularly her father, the king, not that King Bjorn had shown any sign of disapproval.

But important or not, they were the reason he was just now getting to his charts and proposals in the wee small hours of the morning.

Gervais pressed Play on the remote. He was holed up in the mini theater. He had a few hours of preseason games from around the league to catch up on. This was where he’d been slacking the most. Hadn’t spent much time previewing the talent on the other teams yet. Because while Dempsey would fine-tune a solid fifty-three-man roster from the talent currently working out with the team, Gervais needed to cultivate a backup plan for injuries and for talent that didn’t pan out. That meant he needed to familiarize himself with what else was out there, which underrated players might need a new home with the Hurricanes before the October trade deadline.

A creak from the door behind him caused him to turn around in his seat. Erika was there, in the doorway. A bag of popcorn in one hand, with two sodas in the other.

She certainly was a sight for his tired eyes. He drank her in appreciatively, noting the way her bright pink sundress fit her curves, the gauzy fabric swishing when she walked. The halter neck was the sort of thing he could untie with a flick of fabric, and he was seized with the urge to do just that.

As soon as possible. Damn.

“I thought this could be like a date.” She gave him a sly smile, bringing her magnolia scent with her as she neared him, a lock of blond hair grazing his arm.

He took the sodas from her and set them in the cup holders on either side of the leather chairs in the media room.

“Well, then, best date ever.”

“That seems untrue.” Worry and exhaustion lined her voice. “I am sorry about my family arriving unexpectedly. And for how much time they are taking out of your workday.”

“It’s no trouble at all. They are my children’s grandparents. That’s huge.” Pausing the game, he gave her a genuine smile, conceding that he wouldn’t be giving the footage his full attention now. But he had notes on the talent across the league, of course. As an owner, he didn’t run the team alone.

And right now nothing was more important to him than Erika and his children.

Settling deeper into the chair beside him, Erika flipped her long hair in front of one shoulder and centered the bag of popcorn between them.

“I also appreciate how patient you have been. And my sisters loved the tours through New Orleans.” Erika leaned on his shoulder, the scent of her shampoo flooding his mind with memories of London. St. Louis. And last night. Making love, their bodies and scents and need mingling, taking them both to a higher level of satisfaction than he’d ever experienced.

Damn. He loved that. Loved that this smell made her present in his mind.

“Of course.” He breathed, kissed her head, inhaled the scent of her hair and thought of their shower together.

Her breath puffed a little faster from her mouth. She nibbled her bottom lip and gestured to the screen. “May I ask what you are doing?”

Gervais hit Play, a game springing to life. “Well, I have to get a feel for who is out there. I have a team to build. So I may have to replace my current rookies with some of these guys.”

Erika nodded. “And why is this so important to you? Why do you spend so much time on football when, according to the press, they are worth only a fraction of your overall portfolio?”

“Someone’s been doing her research,” he noted. Impressed.

“I was not joking when I told you that I am trying to figure out where to go from here. I am thinking through all possible paths.” Her blue gaze locked on him. “Including the one you have proposed.”

His chest ached with the need to convince her that was the best. But he restrained himself. Focused on her question.

“Why the focus on football?” he repeated, reaching into the popcorn bag for a piece to feed her. “My family is a lot like yours. They come with expectations. But I have my own expectations, and I’ve always wanted to carve out something that was all mine within the vast Reynaud holdings. Some success that I made myself, that was not handed to me. Does that make any sense?”

He presented her with the popcorn and she opened her lips. His touch lingered a bit longer than necessary against her soft mouth.

She chewed before she answered. “You want to stand on your own two legs?”

Gervais smiled inwardly. Her idiom use was so close. “Something like that. If I can stand on my own two feet, make this team into something...” His mind searched for the correct words.

“Then no one can take that away from you. It is yours alone.”

Gervais nodded, stroking her arm. “Exactly. I imagine that’s why you want your Master’s in Nursing so badly. So that is holistically yours.”

“Mmm,” she said, tracing light lines on his chest. “Very wise of you. You have been listening to me, I see.”

Her touch stirred him. Heat rushed through his veins as he set aside the remote.

“We are more alike than you think.” He curled an arm around her shoulders and drew her closer, his fingers skimming through her silky hair to the impossibly soft skin of her upper arm.

“Because we are both stubborn and independent?” She slid her finger into the knot of his tie and loosened the material.

“It’s more than that.” He wrenched the tie off, consigning the expensive Italian silk to the floor.

“We are both struggling to meet the expectations of too much helpful family?” She arched a pale brow at him, all the while fingering open buttons on his shirt.

The hell with waiting.

He slid an arm under her knees and lifted her up and onto his lap, straddling him. Her long sundress spilled over her thighs, covering her while exposing just the smallest hint of satin panties where she sat on his thighs.

“And we both need to lose ourselves in each other right now.” His fingers sifted through her hair, seeking the ribbon that secured the halter top of her sundress.

“You are correct,” she assured him, edging down his thighs so that their hips met.

Her breasts flattened to his chest.

A hungry groan tore from his throat.

He kissed her hard, his control fractured after so many days of thinking through every move with her, of strategizing this relationship like the most important deal of his life. Because while it was all that and more, Erika was also the hottest, most incredible woman he’d ever met, and he wanted her so badly he ached.

She met each hungry swipe of his tongue with soft sighs and teasing moans that threatened to send him right over the edge. Already, her fingers worked the fastening of his belt, her thighs squeezing his hips.

“This day has been too much,” she admitted, her whispered confession one of the few times she’d confided her feelings. “I need you. This.”

And he wanted to give it to her. Now and forever.

But he knew better than to rattle her with talk of forever. Understood she was still coming to terms with a future together. So he forced himself to be everything she needed right now.

Flicking free the tie at her neck, he edged away from the kiss just enough to admire the fall of the gauzy top away from her beautiful breasts. Her skin was so pale she almost glowed in the darkened theater, his tanned hands a dark shadow against her as he cupped the full weight of one breast.

Molding her to his palm, he teased his thumb across the pebbled tip, liking the way her hips thrust harder against his as he did. She was more sensitive than ever, the least little touch making her breath come faster. Making her release quicker.

Just thinking about that forced him to move faster, one hand skimming down her calf to slip beneath the hem of her long dress. He stroked her bare knee. Smoothed up her slender thigh. Skimmed the satin of panties already damp for him.

She cried out his name as he worked her through the thin fabric, coaxing an orgasm from her with just a few strokes. Her back arched as the tension pulsed through her in waves, her knees hugging him until the spasms slowed.

He didn’t waste time searching out a condom, since they no longer needed one. He let her go just long enough to shove aside the placket of his pants and free his erection.

She took over then, her fingers curling the hard length and stroking up to the tip until his heart damn near beat its way out of his chest. He kissed her deeply, distracting her from her erotic mission, leaving him free to enter her.

And oh, damn.

The slick heat of her squeezed him, the scent of her skin and taste of her lips like a drug for his senses. He gripped her hips, guiding her where he wanted. Where he needed. And looking up at her in the half-light reflected from the dim screen, he could see that she was as lost as him. Her plump lips were moist and open, her eyes closed as she rode him, finding her pleasure with as much focus and intensity as him.

He must have said her name, because her eyes opened then. Her blue gaze locked on his.

And that did it.

More than any touch. Any kiss. Any sexy maneuver in the dark. Just having Erika right there with him drove him over the edge. The pleasure flared over his skin and up his spine, rocking him. He held on tight to her, surprised to realize she had found her own peak again right along with him, their bodies in perfect sync.

After the waves of pleasure began to fade and the sweat on their bodies cooled, he stroked her spine through that long veil of her hair, savoring the feel of her in his arms, her warm weight so welcome in his lap. He wanted her every night. Wanted to be the one to take care of her and ease her. Pleasure her.

But even as his feelings surged, he could tell she was pulling back. Throwing up a seemingly impenetrable wall of ice as she edged back and tugged her dress into place. Her family’s arrival had shaken her. Awakened an instinct to define herself in opposition to their expectations.

A part of him understood that. And was damn proud of her, too. But that same urge that motivated her to stand her ground, meet her parents and family dead-on, might also be the reason he felt frozen out.

The more he thought about it, the more real seemed the idea of losing not just his children, but her, too.

And as if she sensed his thoughts, she got to her feet. “Gervais, my family’s here, so I would appreciate it if we didn’t sleep together with them nearby.”

“Seriously?” He propped himself up on his elbows.

“I know it may seem silly with the babies on the way, but...them being here? I need space.”

He studied her face, her platinum-blond hair tumbling around her shoulders. “Damn it, Erika, all I’ve done is honor your need for space, taking cues off you.”

“A few short days. Less than a month. And you call that space? Time?” Her throat moved. “Clearly we have very different ideas about taking our time. Maybe we don’t understand each other nearly as well as you think.”

Frustration fired inside him as he felt victory slip away word by word. He tugged on his pants, all the while searching for the right words and coming up short.

Not that it mattered, since before he could speak, she’d left the room. The click of that door made it clear.

She was running scared and he wasn’t welcome to join her now.

If ever.

Twelve

The excitement of the fans at the home Hurricanes game was dwarfed in comparison to the buzz going on in the owners’ box.

Erika sat against the leather chair, taking it all in, her heart in her throat after the way she’d left things with Gervais last night. But the way he made her feel scared her down to her toes. He made her want too much at a time when she had to be more careful than ever about protecting her heart and her future.

Gramps Leon called out to the Mitras clan. “Did Erika tell you how the Reynauds came into their fortune?”

“No, Leon, she hasn’t shared much of anything with us. We’d love to know. American origin stories are so fascinating,” Hilda said darkly, shooting her a daggered look across the spread of shrimp gumbo and decadent brownies. Erika rolled her eyes, moving closer to the glass to get a look at the field. Somehow, this game she had disliked so much was starting to make sense to her.

“Grampa Leon, we all know that story,” Fiona said with a light laugh, her hands wringing together. She was nervous but Erika couldn’t tell why.

“Yes, but the beautiful princesses and queen haven’t. And they want to. Who am I to deny them that?” he said with a wink at Hilda, whose face was already turning into a toothy grin.

“It was a high-stakes poker game. My surly old Cajun ancestor was sweating as he stared at his hand of cards. The stakes were incredibly high, you see,” Gramps Leon began, leaning on his knees.

“What were the stakes, Leon?” Queen Arnora asked, on her best behavior, since Erika had been emphatic with her mother that histrionics would not be tolerated. The babies were Erika and Gervais’s, not potential little royal pawns.

Arnora had vowed she simply wanted to bond with their expanding family and was thrilled over impending grandparenthood.

“If my riverboat grandpa won, he would get a ship out of the deal. But if he lost, he would have to sign a non-compete. And stay working for the tyrant captain who kept him away from home for months on end. Needless to say, the cards laid out right for him and he won the first ship in the fleet. The Reynaud family empire was born. Just like that.” He snapped his fingers, eyes alight with a new audience to entertain. “The rest is history. The family has been successful ever since. Especially my grandboys.”

King Bjorn inclined his head. “You feel responsible for your grandchildren’s success?”

“Yessir, King Bjorn. I’m proud of all of those boys. Feel like I practically raised them myself. Though I kind of did,” Gramps Leon wheezed, eyes drifting to Theo, who shrank in the back corner, “My son almost made it big...eh. No matter. My grandboys did. That’s what matters in the end.”

Erika watched as Theo fidgeted with his drink, balling up a cocktail napkin in his right fist. She knew he hadn’t been the best father, but a small part of her felt sympathy for him.

“And what did all your grandchildren do?” Arnora asked lightly, swirling the champagne in her glass.

Erika had often wondered how her mother had such ease with others but not as much with her children. Her mom took her role as a royal, a liaison to the world, seriously. Erika looked around at the Reynaud family and saw their bond, but not only that. She saw their relaxed air. The way they kept life...real. Connected. She wanted that for her children, as well.

And yet she’d pushed her babies’ father away the night before out of fear of living like her parents.

Gramps Leon’s dark eyes gleamed with pride and affection. “Well, you know Gervais bought his own team. I figure they’ll make it big soon the way that boy works. And Dempsey is the youngest coach in the league’s history. Henri is already a franchise quarterback looking for his first championship ring. Even Jean-Pierre is doing good things as a quarterback for that northern Yankee team. Where is he again?”

Theo cleared his throat. “New York. Jean-Pierre is the starting quarterback for the New York Gladiators.” Pride pierced his words, and he lifted his eyes to meet Leon’s. So he did care, Erika thought. It was just masked.

She wished it was that easy to tell what was going on with Gervais. Nothing he’d said so far betrayed any level of an emotional depth. Just sex. But that wasn’t enough for her. And that was the reason she hadn’t been able to help but pull away the night before.

Last night when she’d gone to him, she’d believed he might really care for her. Sure, the sex was great and he wanted to provide for their children. But she’d started to think that he also genuinely liked her, sex and children aside.

Before then, she’d been so sure of him. Of the decision she was close to making.

As she sat in the owners’ box again, she realized she couldn’t stop replaying seeing the bed empty when she woke up, knowing it was her fault for pushing him away but not knowing what she could have done differently. Erika would have continued to analyze the situation if it wasn’t for the approach of Liv, her sister. The one that had been through the sex tape fiasco.

The scandal had almost cost Liv everything.

Liv narrowed her gunmetal eyes at Erika, pinning her. She sat next to Erika, hands firmly grasping the wineglass’s stem. The smell of alcohol assaulted Erika’s sense of smell, turning her stomach sour.

“Sister,” she said lazily, “this family...”

Erika straightened, finishing the sentence for her. “Is filled with wonderful, loving people.”

Liv nodded solemnly. “Yes. And how do you say—American royalty?”

Erika’s eyes remained out toward the field, toward where Gervais stood with a reporter giving an interview, players and photographers around them. She would not be dignifying her sister’s comment with a response.

“All I am trying to say, dear sister, is that you need to be here. You could be royalty for real if you did.” Liv’s words, spoken in a hushed tone, had a bit of a slur to them.

“That’s not what matters to me. What matters is—” But the words caught in her throat as she watched Gervais get hit by two men locked in a tackle. Gervais was on the sidelines, knocked to his feet, his bare skull slamming back into the ground. Hard. Tackled on the sidelines with no equipment.

She barely registered what the Mitrases or the Reynauds were doing. In an instant, the panic that stayed her breath and speech was replaced by a need to move. A need for action. The damn need to get to his side.

Pushing her way to the door that led down to the stands, she ran smack into James, the security guard who had first alerted them that the whole Mitras clan was arriving. He stood at the door to the tunnels leading through the bowels of the stadium and out onto the field. His credentials were clipped to his jacket, a communication piece in his ear. “Princess, I am afraid I can’t allow you onto the field. Please wait here. I promise to keep you updated about Mr. Reynaud.”

James put a hand on her shoulder. Consoling? Or to restrain? Either way, it didn’t matter to her because this man kept her from Gervais.

Years of practice drills during her time in the military pressed her muscles into action. Without sparing a second thought, she grabbed his hand and bent back his pinkie. A minor move but one that could quickly drive a man to his knees if she pushed farther. “James, I am a nurse, but I am also former military. I can flip you onto your back in a heartbeat and you cannot—will not—fight me because I am pregnant. Now, we can do this simply or we can make this difficult, but one way or another, I am going to Gervais.”

James’s eyes narrowed, then he exhaled through gritted teeth. “I could lose my job for this.” He shook his head, rolling his eyes. “But come with me. You’ll need my credentials to get through to the field.”

She bit her lip hard in relief. “Thank you.”

“Um, ma’am, could you let go of my pinkie?”

“Oh.” She blinked fast, having forgotten she’d even still held him pinned. She released his hand and stepped back.

Wincing, he shook his hand. “Follow me.”

She followed him through the corridors, urging him to go faster and barely allowing herself to breathe until she saw Gervais with her own eyes. He waved off his personal security team as soon as she came into sight, his face twisted in pain as the team doctor shone a small flashlight in front of his eyes, checking his pupils.

Her medical training came to the fore and took in his pale face. He sat on the ground, upright, and was not swaying. His respiration was even, steady. Reassuring signs. Her heart slowed from a gallop. He would need a more thorough exam, certainly, but at least he was conscious. Cognizant.

“Gervais? Are you okay?” Erika knelt beside him, then turned to the team’s doctor, her voice calm and collected now. “Is he all right?”

On the field beside him, the game continued, the fans cheering over a play while Erika’s focus remained on Gervais and all that mattered to her.

“I’m fine,” Gervais growled, then winced, pressing his hand to the back of his head.

The doctor tucked away his flashlight into his bag. “He’s injured, no question, given the size of that goose egg coming up. Probably a concussion. He should go to the emergency room to be checked over.”

“Then let us go.” She barked the command at the doctor. Meanwhile, the game had resumed playing, and she trailed behind him.

As she stepped out of the arena with Gervais, leaving her family behind, reality crashed into her. Her heart was in her throat for this man. He was the father of her children. But she barely knew him and already he’d turned her world upside down. She felt as if she, too, had taken a blow to the head and her judgment was scrambled. How could she care so much so soon?

What was she doing here? She had started to love him, but maybe she just loved the surface image. Maybe she’d done what her family had done—just looked at the surface. After all, he’d offered no feelings, no emotions to her. Just convenient arrangements for their children and sex. His marriage proposal had never included mention of love.

And she couldn’t settle for less than everything from him, just as she wanted to give him her all.

What if in spite of all logic, she had fallen in love with him and he could never offer her his full heart?

* * *

There were only a few times in his life that Gervais had felt extreme elation and intense concern all at the same time. This was certainly being added to that tally.

Later that night as he stretched out in his own bed, Erika hovering, he was still replaying that moment Erika had rushed out to him. His head throbbed but his memories were crystal clear.

Watching Erika care enough about him to rush to his side filled him with a renewed purpose. He’d been blown away and more than a little unnerved watching her rush to his side, somehow having persuaded James to let her through security and out onto the field.

Make no mistake, he always wanted her there. By his side. But he didn’t want any harm to come to her or their children, either. The thought of harm befalling her or their children by her own rash actions gnawed at him. The security was there for a reason. God, she was everything to him. Everything. And he wasn’t sure how he could have missed out on realizing the depth of that.

They could be so good together, but it also seemed as if the risk of her pulling back was at an all-time high. All of her interactions with him since the CT scan came back had been rigid. Formalized. As if she was a nurse doing a job, not a woman tending to her lover.

That reaction clapped him upside the head harder than the wall of a football player that had crashed into him. Her reactions didn’t add up. She had been so upset on the sidelines, so freaked out about what was happening to him. And now she was answering in snippets of sentences. He didn’t want to upset her more, or keep her awake all night. But his family had been in and out of the room for hours. It was nearing morning before he finally had a moment alone with her.

His head throbbed far more from this situation than his minor concussion.

Propped up on the bed, he quietly said, “How did you get James to let you join me on the field?”

She flushed the most lovely shade of pink, her hand fidgeting with her blond hair draped over her shoulder. “I used some of my military skills to persuade him. Nothing extreme, given my condition, of course, just a small but painful maneuver.”

“Seriously? Apparently, I need to have you train my security.”

“And give away my secrets?” She gave him a princess-like annoyed scoff. “I think not. Besides, he should not have tried to keep me from you.”

“While I find that sexy on one level, you have to be careful and think about the babies. What if you had been hurt?”

She shrugged, looking him square in the eye. “I was careful. You are the injured one. Now, relax. You may not be stressed but you have to stay awake. Do as the doctor instructed or I am taking you back to the hospital.”

He felt the prickles of her emotions. Had to change the direction. Bring it back to breezy. Shooting her a sly smile, he said, “We could have sex. That would keep me awake.”

“You’re supposed to rest.” Eyes narrowing with annoyance, Erika crossed her arms.

“Then take advantage of me. I’ll just lie back and be very still.” He closed his eyes, then half opened one of them to look at her. Hoping to elicit some sort of response out of her. Hoping to see that radiant smile spread across her face. Damn. He loved that smile.

“Oh, you think you are funny. But I am not laughing right now. You are injured and I am here to make sure you take care of yourself.”

“You could tie me up so I don’t get too...boisterous.”

“Boisterous? Now, that’s an interesting word choice and a challenge. But sadly, for your own health, I will have to hold strong against your boisterous charms. Let us play cards.” There was no jest in her voice.

“Cards? Strip poker, maybe.”

“No, thank you.”

“Then I’ll pass on the cards. I gotta confess, my vision is a little blurry.” He held up his hand, trying to focus on his fingers. A dull ache pulled at him.

Turning, practically out the door to the room, Erika said, “I should get the doctor.”

“The doctor has checked me. I’ve had an X-ray and MRI and CT scan. I’m fine. Concussed, but nothing the players don’t face all the time. I’m not going to be a wimp in front of my team.”

“They wear helmets.”

“I have a thick head. Just ask anyone I work with. Or those I don’t work with.” He tried his best to crack that smile wide-open, but Erika’s face was as solemn as ever. She was shutting him out and he didn’t understand why.

“I’m not laughing.”

“You want to be serious? Then let’s be serious. Erika, I want you to move in with me. Hell, to be honest, I want you to marry me, but I will settle for you moving in here. Go to school here. Let’s be together. Life is complicated enough. Let’s enjoy more popcorn dates and sex in the screen room and every other room in this place. And in my cars. I have many, you know.” The declaration was earnest. He wanted her. For now. Forever. And not just because they were having children together.

Erika slammed her hand on the desk, a quiet rage burning in her fine, regal features. “I am still not laughing, Gervais. We cannot build a relationship on sex. I need something meaningful. I have fought so hard to build a life for myself, to be seen as someone more than ornamental. A royal jewel in the crown meant to bear an heir to the line, defunct or not.”

“Erika. It’s not like that. I don’t think of you as a crown jewel.” Gervais searched her face, trying to understand her.

“All you have done since I told you I was pregnant is press for marriage. I have worked hard to gain my independence, my happiness, and I will fight for my children, as well. They deserve something more.”

“Erika, I—” Gervais, the man who always had a plan, stammered, fighting for words.

Tears glistened in her eyes, but she stood tall, her shoulders braced as she backed away. “I will wake one of your brothers. It is morning anyway.” Erika turned, was already to the threshold and then gone before he could even think of words to delay her.

He had botched this chance to win her over. And what a helluva time to realize just how much he loved her, this proud, strong woman. He loved her intelligence, her passion, even her stubbornness. He adored every hair on her head.

He loved her so deeply he knew any fear of repeating his father’s mistakes would not happen. Gervais loved Erika. Real love. The kind that he knew damn well was rare in this world.

And in rushing her, he may have ruined his chance to have her.

* * *

As Erika let her feet dangle over the edge of the dock, she focused her attention out on the lake’s waters. The late-afternoon sun cast golden shimmers on the surface of the water.

She felt as if the whole day had been a training exercise. Nothing had felt real to her. Since she stormed out of Gervais’s room last night, Erika had felt disoriented.

The problem was simple. Despite logic and reason, she was madly in love with Gervais. These past few days had proved how easy it would be to fall into a routine together.

But they had also shown her how difficult it would be for them to become more than...well, whatever this was.

A breeze stirred her loose blond hair, pushing strands in front of her eyes. Though it was humid, and the bugs played a loud symphony, she was comforted by the noises, smells and sights of this foreign land. It was starting to feel a bit like home. Another confusing feeling to muddle through.

The wind gusted stronger, stirring the marsh grass into a beautiful shudder. Boats zipped a ways off from the dock, and she watched the wakes crest and crash into each other.

It was practically silent, except for the boats and bugs. Everyone had gone. She’d packed her family into their limos, watched from the dock until the landscape of New Orleans swallowed them up.

The Reynauds were gone on a day trip. Theo’s idea, actually. He’d even taken Gramps with them. All the Reynaud men, save for Jean-Pierre, on one trip in one spot. Probably something that didn’t happen too often.

Inching backward on the dock, she pulled her knees to her chest. Erika was at a complete loss of what to do.

If only it could be as simple as the word love. She loved her children. She loved their father. But she still didn’t know if he loved her back. On the one hand they hadn’t known each other long, yet she was certain of her feelings. She needed him to be just as sure.

Her head spun with it all.

And her heart twisted.

She knew what she wanted, but it didn’t make sense. She wanted to say to hell with logic and stay here with Gervais. To move in. To love him. To build their family together and pray it would all work out.

Footsteps echoed along the dock, startling her an instant before she heard Gervais’s deep voice.

“You did not leave with your family.”

Whipping her head up, she took him in. Fully. And a lump formed in the back of her throat.

“Did you think that I would do that without saying goodbye to you?” She would never have done something so cruel. Not after what she felt for him and all they’d been through together.

His chin tipped, the moonlight beaming around him. “Is this your farewell, then?”

“I am not going home with them.”

He pressed further, drawing near to her. “And to school in the UK?”

Decision upon decision. Layer upon layer. “Do you think I should?”

“I want you to stay here but I cannot make this decision for you. I don’t want to rush you.”

His answer surprised her. “I expected you to try to persuade me.”

“I’ve made my wishes clear. I want you to stay. I want us to build a life. But I can see you’re afraid. I’ll wait as long as you need.” He knelt to her level, touched her face with his steady hand.

She bristled. “I am not afraid. I am wary. There is a difference.”

“Is there?”

She churned over his words. “If you want to mince words in translation, then all right. I am afraid of making the wrong choice and having our children suffer because of it.”

“And you think we are the wrong choice?”

“I think that I love you.” There. It was out there. This was how she’d make her decision. Let him know exactly where she stood.

“I know that I love you.”

She swallowed hard and blinked back tears, barely daring to believe what she was hearing. “You do?”

“I absolutely do. No question in my mind.” His voice wrapped around her heart like a blanket, soothing and private and intimate all at once. He was...everything.

“I believe you and I want so very much to believe that will be enough.”

“Then be willing to challenge that warrior spirit of yours and fight for what we feel for each other.”

Fight? Erika had been used to fighting for the things that mattered to her. Maybe this battleground wasn’t so foreign, after all. “Fight.”

“Yes, stay here. Get to know me. Let me get to know you. And every day for the rest of our lives we’ll get to know more and more about each other. That’s how it works.”

“I will move in with you?” The idea was tantalizing this time and she wondered why she had dismissed it so readily before. Out of pride? The thought of losing herself in her family again reminded her how hard she had fought for her freedom to live her life. And truth be told, she wanted to live here, in this fascinating town with this even more fascinating man. She wanted to give her children a family life like the Reynauds.

She wanted Gervais.

Looking over his shoulder, her eyes took in the mansion.

“Yes. If that is what you wish.”

“I can go to school here?” She hadn’t even looked into programs around here, but she could. There were ways to make this work. Now that she knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he loved her.

“Yes. If that is what you wish,” he said again, those final words making it clear he understood her need for control over her life.

“We bring up our children here?”

“Yes, and in your country, too, whenever possible, if you wish. And most of all I hope that you’ll do all of that as my wife.” He squeezed her hand, brought her to a standing position.

Erika looked up at him, reading his eyes. “As simple as that?”

Pulling her into him, he shook his head. “Not simple at all. But very logical.”

“Love as a logical emotion?” The idea tickled her.

“The love I feel for you defies any logic it’s so incredible. It fills every corner of me. But I do know that my plan to work harder than I’ve ever worked at anything in my life to make you happy? Yes, that will be a plan I’m not leaving to chance. I will make that a conscious choice. But if you need time to decide—”

She cupped his face in her hands. “I do not need any more time at all. Yes.”

“Yes?” Lines of excitement and relief tugged at his face.

She breathed in the scent of him, feeling balanced and renewed. Sure, for the first time in weeks, that this was where she was supposed to be.

“Yes, I love you and I will move in with you. I will go to school here. I will have our children here. And most of all, yes, I will marry you.”

He gathered her closer, a sigh of relief racking his big, strong body. “Thank God.”

“How did I ever get so lucky to meet and fall for such a wonderfully stubborn man?”

“We knew that day we met.”

“In spite of logic.”

“Instincts. With instincts like ours, we will make a winning team—” he rested his mouth on hers “—for life.”

* * * * *

Read on for an extract from HIS SECRETARY’S SURPRISE FIANCÉ by Joanne Rock

One

“I want you to push me to my limits. So I can prove to you that I can handle it.”

Patrick stared across his paper-cluttered desk at the woman seated opposite him. Libby Parkhurst was not someone you would pick out of a crowd. Mousy brown hair, ordinary features and clothes at least one size too big for her slender frame added up to an unfortunate adjective. Forgettable.

Except for those eyes. Green. Moss, maybe. Not emerald. Emerald was too brilliant, too sharp. Libby’s green eyes were the quiet, soothing shade of a summer forest.

Patrick cleared his throat, absolutely sure his companion hadn’t intended her remark to sound provocative. Why would she? Patrick was nothing more to her than a family friend and a prospective employer. After all, Libby’s mother had been his mother’s best friend for decades.

“I appreciate your willingness to step outside your comfort zone, Libby,” he said. “But I think we both know this job is not for you. You don’t understand what it involves.” Patrick’s second in command, Charlise, was about to commence six months of maternity leave. Patrick needed a replacement ASAP. Because he had dawdled in filling the spot, his mother, Maeve Kavanagh, had rushed in to supply an interviewee.

Libby sat up straighter, her hands clenched in her lap, her expression earnest and maybe a tad desperate. “I do,” she said firmly. “Maeve described the position in detail. All I’m asking is that you run me through the paces before I have to welcome the first group.”

Patrick’s business, Silver Reflections, provided a quiet, soothing setting for professionals experiencing burnout, but also offered team-building activities for high-level management executives. Ropes courses, hiking, overnight survival treks. The experience was sometimes grueling and always demanding.

The fill-in assistant would be involved in every aspect of running Silver Reflections. While Patrick applauded Libby’s determination, he had serious doubts about her ability to handle the physical aspects of the job.

“Libby...” He sighed, caught between his instincts about filling the position and his obligation to play nice.

His unwanted guest leaned forward, gripping the edge of his desk with both hands, her knuckles white. “I need this job, Patrick. You know I do.”

Libby had him there. He’d witnessed in painful detail what the past year had been like for her—as had most of the country, thanks to the tabloids. First, Libby’s father had been sent to prison for tax fraud to the tune of several million. Then eight weeks ago, after months of being hounded by the press and forced to adopt a lifestyle far below her usual standards, Libby’s emotionally fragile mother had committed suicide.

Quite simply, in the blink of an eye, Libby Parkhurst had gone from being a sheltered heiress to a woman with virtually no resources. Her debutante education had qualified her to host her father’s dinner parties when her mother was unable or unwilling to do so. But twenty-three-year-old Libby had no practical experience, no résumé and no money.

“You won’t like it.” He was running out of socially acceptable ways to say he didn’t want her for the job.

Libby’s chin lifted. She sat back in her chair, her spine straight. The disappointment in her gaze told him she anticipated his rejection. “I know your mother made you interview me,” she said.

“I’m far past the age where my mother calls the shots in my life.” It was only partly a lie. Maeve Kavanagh wielded maternal guilt like a sharp-edged sword.

“I don’t have anything left to lose,” Libby said quietly. “No home. No family. No trust fund. It’s all gone. For the first time in my life, I’m going to have to stand on my own two feet. I’m willing and able to do that. But I need someone to give me a chance.”

Damn it. Her dignified bravery tugged at heartstrings he hadn’t tuned in ages. Why was Libby Parkhurst his problem? What was his mother thinking?

Outside his window, the late-January trees were barren and gray. Winter still had a firm hold on this corner of western North Carolina. It would be at least eight weeks before the first high-adventure group arrived. In the meantime, Libby would surely be able to handle the hotel aspects of the job. Taking reservations. Checking in guests. Making sure that all reasonable requests were accommodated.

But even if he split Charlise’s job and gave Libby the less onerous part, he’d still be stuck looking for someone who could handle the outdoor stuff. Where was he going to find a candidate with the right qualifications willing to work temporarily and part-time?

If this had been an emotional standoff, Libby would have won. She never blinked as she looked at him with all the entreaty of a puppy begging to be fed. He decided to try a different tack. “Our clients are high-end,” he said. “I need someone who can dress the part.”

Though her cheeks flushed, Libby stood her ground. “I’ve planned and overseen social events in a penthouse apartment overlooking Central Park. I think I can handle the fashion requirements.”

He eyed her frumpy clothing and lifted a brow...not saying a word.

For the first time, Libby lowered her gaze. “I suppose I hadn’t realized how much I’ve come to rely on the disguise,” she muttered. “I’ve dodged reporters for so long, my bag-lady routine has become second nature.”

Now he was the one who fidgeted. His unspoken criticism had wounded her. He felt the taste of shame. And an urgent need to make her smile. “A trial period only,” he said, conceding defeat. “I make no promises.”

Libby’s jaw dropped. “You’ll hire me?”

The joy in her damp green eyes was his undoing. “Temporarily,” he emphasized. “Charlise will be leaving in two weeks. In the meantime, she can show you how we run things here at the retreat center. When the weather gets a bit warmer, you and I will do a dry run with some of the outdoor activities. By the end of February, we’ll see how things are going.”

He had known “of” Libby for most of his life, though their paths seldom crossed. Patrick was thirty...Libby seven years younger. The last time he remembered seeing her was when Maeve had taken Patrick and his brothers to New York to see a hockey game. They had stopped by the Parkhurst home to say hello.

Libby had been a shy redheaded girl with braces and a ponytail. Patrick had been too cool at the time to do more than nod in her direction.

And now here they were.

Libby smiled at him, her radiance taking him by surprise. “You won’t be sorry, I swear.”

How had he thought she was plain? To conceal his surprise, he bent his head and scratched a series of numbers on a slip of paper. Sliding it across the desk, he made his tone flat...professional. “Here’s the salary. You can start Monday.”

When she saw the amount, Libby’s chin wobbled.

He frowned. “It’s not a lot, but I think it’s fair.”

She bit her lip. “Of course it’s fair. I was just thinking about how much money my family used to spend.”

“Is it hard?” he asked quietly. “Having to scrimp after a lifetime of luxury?”

“Yes.” She tucked the paper in her pocket. “But not in the way you think. The difficult part has been finding out how little I knew about the real world. My parents sheltered me...spoiled me. I barely knew how to cook or how much a gallon of milk cost. I guess you could say I was basically useless.”

Feeling his neck get hot, he reached for her hand, squeezing her fingers before releasing her. Something about Libby brought out his protective instincts. “No one is useless, Libby. You’ve had a hell of a year. I’m very sorry about your mother.”

She grimaced, her expression stark. “Thank you. I suppose I should tell you it wasn’t entirely a surprise. I’d been taking her back and forth to therapy sessions for weeks. She tried the suicide thing twice after my father’s trial. I don’t know if it was being without him that tormented her or the fact that she was no longer welcome in her social set, but either way, her pain was stronger than her need to be with me.”

“Suicide never makes sense. I’m sure your mother loved you.”

“Thank you for the vote of support.”

Patrick was impressed. Libby had every right to feel sorry for herself. Many women in her situation would latch onto the first available meal ticket...anything to maintain appearances and hang on to the lifestyle of a wealthy, pampered young socialite.

Libby, though, was doing her best to be independent.

“My mother thinks the world of you, Libby. I think she always wanted a daughter.”

“I don’t know what I would have done without her.”

Silence fell suddenly. Both of them knew that the only reason Patrick had agreed to interview Libby was because Maeve Kavanagh had insisted. Still, Patrick wasn’t going to go back on his word. Not now.

It wouldn’t take long for Libby to realize that she wasn’t cut out for the rigorous physical challenges that awaited her at Silver Reflections. Where Charlise had been an athlete and outdoorswoman for most of her life, Libby was a pale, fragile flower, guaranteed to wilt under pressure.

* * *

Over the next two weeks, Patrick had cause to doubt his initial assessment. Libby dived into learning her new responsibilities with gusto. She and Charlise bonded almost immediately, despite the fact that they had little in common, or so it seemed.

Charlise raved about Libby’s natural gifts for hospitality. And the fact that Libby was smart and focused and had little trouble learning the computer system and a host of other things Charlise considered vital to running Silver Reflections.

On the second Friday morning Libby was on his payroll, Patrick cornered Charlise in her office and shut the door. “Well,” he said, leaning against the wall. “Is she going to be able to handle it?”

Charlise reclined in her swivel chair, her amply rounded belly a match for her almost palpable aura of contentment. “The girl’s a natural. We’ve already had four clients who have rebooked for future dates based on their interactions with Libby. I can honestly say that I’m going to be able to walk away from here without a single qualm.”

“And the outdoor component?”

Charlise’s glow dimmed. “Well, maybe a tiny qualm.”

“It’s one thing to run this place like a hotel. But you and I both know we work like dogs when we take a group out in the woods.”

“True. But Libby has enthusiasm. That goes a long way.”

“Up until a year ago I imagine she was enjoying pedicures at pricey Park Avenue salons. Hobnobbing with Fortune 500 executives who worked with her dad. It’s a good bet she never had anyone steal her lunch money.”

Charlise gave him a loaded look. “You’re a Kavanagh, Patrick. Born with a silver spoon and everything that goes with it. Silver Reflections is your baby, but you could walk away from it tomorrow and never have to work another day in your life.”

“Fair enough.” He scratched his chin. “There’s one other problem. I told Libby that she would have to dress the part if she planned to work here. But she’s still wearing her deliberately frumpy skirts and sweaters. Is that some kind of declaration of independence? Did I make a faux pas in bringing up her clothing?”

“Oh, you poor, deluded man.”

“Why does no one around here treat me with respect?”

Charlise ignored his question. “Your mother offered to buy Libby a suitable wardrobe, but your newest employee is independent to say the least. She’s waiting to go shopping until this afternoon when she gets her first paycheck.”

“Oh, hell.”

“Exactly.”

“Wait a minute,” he said. “Why can’t she wear the clothes she had when her dad went to prison? I’ll bet she owned an entire couture wardrobe.”

“She did,” Charlise said, her expression sober. “And she sold all those designer items to pay for her mom’s treatments. Apparently the sum total of what she owns can now fit into two suitcases.”

Patrick seldom felt guilty about his life choices. He did his best to live by a code of honor Maeve had instilled in all her boys. Do the right thing. Be kind. Never let ambition trump human relationships.

He had hired Libby. Now it was time to let her know she had his support.

* * *

Libby was in heaven. After months of wallowing in uncertainty and despair, now having a concrete reason to get up every morning brought her something she hadn’t found in a long time...confidence and peace.

For whatever reason, Patrick Kavanagh had made himself scarce during Libby’s first two weeks. He’d left the training and orientation entirely up to Charlise. Which meant Libby didn’t constantly have to be looking over her shoulder. With Charlise, Libby felt relaxed and comfortable.

They had hit it off immediately. So much so that Libby experienced a pang of regret to know Charlise wouldn’t be coming back after today. Just before five, Libby went to Charlise’s office holding a small package wrapped in blue paper printed with tiny airplanes. Charlise and her accountant husband were looking forward to welcoming a fat and healthy baby boy.

Libby knocked at the open door. “I wanted to give you this before you go.”

Charlise looked up from her chore of packing personal items. Her eyes were shiny with tears. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to. You’ve been so patient with me, and I appreciate it. Are you okay? Is anything wrong?”

Charlise reached for a tissue and blew her nose. “No. I don’t know why I’m so emotional. I’m very excited about the baby, and I want to stay at home with him, but I love Silver Reflections. It’s hard to imagine not coming here every day.”

“I’ll do my best to keep things running smoothly while you’re gone.”

“No doubts on that score. You’re a smart cookie, Libby. I feel completely confident about leaving things in your hands.”

“I hope you’ll bring the baby to see us when the weather is nice.”

“You can count on it.” She opened the gift slowly, taking care not to rip the paper. “Oh, Libby, this is beautiful. But it must have been way too expensive.”

Libby grimaced. She had been very honest with Charlise about her current financial situation. “It’s an antique of sorts. A family friend gave it to my parents when I was born, engraved with the initial L. When I heard you say were going to name the baby Lander, after your father, I knew I wanted you to have it.”

“But you’ve kept it all this time. Despite everything that’s happened. It must have special meaning.”

When Libby looked at the silver baby cup and bowl and spoon, her heart squeezed. “It does. It did. I think I held on to the set as a reminder of happier times. But the truth is, I don’t need it anymore. I’m looking toward the future. It will make me feel good to know your little boy is using it.”

Charlise hugged Libby tightly. “I’ll treasure it.”

Libby glanced at her watch. “I need to let you get out of here, but may I ask you one more thing before you go?”

“Of course.”

“How did you get this job working with Patrick?”

“My husband and Patrick’s brother Aidan are good friends. When Patrick put out the word that he was starting Silver Reflections, Aidan hooked us up.”

“And the high-adventure stuff?”

Charlise shrugged. “I’ve always been a tomboy. Climbing trees. Racing go-karts. Broke both arms and legs before I made it to college. At different times, thank goodness.”

“Good grief.” Libby thought about her own cocoon-like adolescence. “Do you really think I can handle the team building and physical challenges in the outdoors?”

The other woman paused, her hand hovering over a potted begonia. “Let me put it this way...” She picked up the plant and put it in a box. “I think you’ll be fine as long as you believe in yourself.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’ve heard you talk about Patrick. He intimidates you.”

“Well, I—” Libby stopped short, unable to come up with a believable lie. “Yes.”

“Don’t let him. He may come across as tough and intense at times, but underneath it all, he’s a pussycat.”

A broad-shouldered masculine frame filled the doorway. “I think I’ve just been insulted.”

Copyright © 2016 by Janice Maynard

Saying Yes to the Boss

Andrea Laurence

She’d imagined standing like this with him so many times, and every one of those times, he’d kissed her.

Before she knew what was happening, Carson brought her fantasy to reality by dipping his head and pressing his lips to hers. The champagne was just strong enough to mute the voices in her head that told her this was a bad idea. Instead, she gave in to his kiss, pulling him closer.

He tasted like champagne and spearmint; his touch gentle, yet firm. She could’ve stayed just like this forever, but eventually, Carson pulled away.

His green eyes reflected sudden panic. Her emotions came crashing back down to the ground with the reality she saw there. She had just kissed her boss. Her boss!

“Georgia, I…” he started, his voice trailing off. “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

With a quick shake of her head, she dismissed his words and took a step back from him. “Don’t worry about it,” she said. “Excitement and champagne will make people do stupid things every time.”

The problem was that it didn’t feel stupid.

* * *

Saying Yes to the Boss is part of the Dynasties: The Newports series: Passion and chaos consume a Chicago real estate empire

ANDREA LAURENCE is an award-winning author of contemporary romances filled with seduction and sass. She has been a lover of reading and writing stories since she was young and is thrilled to share her special blend of sensuality and dry, sarcastic humor with readers. A dedicated West Coast girl transplanted into the Deep South, she’s working on her own happily-ever-after with her boyfriend and their collection of animals.

To My Fellow Newport Authors—Kat, Sarah, Jules, Michelle and Charlene Thanks for being so much fun to work with on this series.

And to our editor, Charles—You’re awesome, as always. I’m still waiting to see that infamous fanny pack.

One

“I found it.”

Georgia Adams eyed Carson Newport from her position in his office doorway. He looked up from the paperwork on his desk, arched one golden eyebrow in curiosity and leaned back in his chair. “You found what?”

Georgia stifled a frown of disappointment. She’d imagined this moment differently. She was carrying a chilled bottle of champagne in her purse to celebrate her discovery. Not once in her imagination had he stared at her blankly.

How could he not know that she had found it? The Holy Grail of real estate. The very thing they’d been searching for, for months. “I found the spot where the Newport Corporation is going to be building the Cynthia Newport Memorial Hospital for Children.”

That got his attention. Carson straightened up in his leather executive chair and pinned her with his gaze. “Are you serious?”

Georgia grinned. This was more like it. “As a heart attack.”

“Come in.” He waved her into his office. “Tell me all about it.”

She shook her head and crooked her finger to beckon him. “I think I need to show you. Come on.”

Carson didn’t so much as look at his calendar for conflicts before he leaped from his chair. Finding the land for their next real estate development project had been that hard and that important. There wasn’t a lot of space in Chicago to do what they wanted. At least, not at a price that made any kind of financial sense.

He moved swiftly around his massive mahogany desk, buttoning the black suit coat he was wearing as he joined her in the doorway. “Lead on, Miss Adams.”

Georgia spun on her heel and headed for the elevators. “We’re taking your car,” she reminded him as she hit the down button.

He leaned his palm against the wall and looked down at her. “You know, Georgia, you’re the director of public relations at a Fortune 500 company. I think I pay you enough to get a car. I pay you enough to get a really nice car. There’s even a reserved spot in the garage for you that sits open every day.”

Georgia just shrugged. She didn’t want the responsibility of a car. In truth, she didn’t need one. Her apartment was a block away from the “L.” Chicago’s elevated train was efficient and cheap, and that’s how she liked things. She’d never owned a car before. Public transportation was all she’d ever really known. To some people who grew up the way she had, finally getting their own car would be a milestone that showed they had made something of themselves. To her, it was an unnecessary expense. She never knew when she might need that money for something else.

“You look like a Jaguar girl to me.” Carson continued to ponder aloud as they stepped out of the elevator to the employee parking deck. “Graceful, attractive and just a little bit naughty.”

Georgia stopped beside Carson’s pearl-white Range Rover. She brushed her loose platinum-blond hair over her shoulder and planted a hand on her hip. “Mr. Newport, am I going to have to report you to human resources?” she asked with a smile that took the teeth out of the threat.

Carson winced as he opened the door for her to get inside. “It was just a compliment. Please don’t make me go to the second floor. Our HR director reminds me of my third-grade teacher. She was always mean to me.”

“Were you poorly behaved?” Georgia challenged him.

Carson grinned, showcasing his bright smile. His sea-green eyes twinkled mischievously. “Maybe,” he admitted before slamming the door.

She took the next ten seconds alone to take a deep breath. Being around Carson Newport was hard on Georgia’s nerves. Not because he was a difficult boss—he was anything but. That was part of the problem. He was handsome, charming, smart and a miserable flirt. All the Newport brothers were that way, but only Carson made Georgia’s heart race. His flattering banter was harmless. She knew that. He’d never so much as touched her in the year she’d worked for his company.

That didn’t mean she didn’t secretly want him to. It was a stupid fantasy, one that kept her up nights as she imagined his hands running over her bare skin. But it had to stay a fantasy. She’d worked damn hard to get into a good college and climb the corporate ladder. Landing this job at the Newport Corporation was a dream come true. She’d found a family among her coworkers here. She was good at her job. Everything had turned out just as she’d hoped. Georgia wasn’t about to risk that just because she had the hots for her boss.

Carson climbed in the car and they headed out. It took about a half hour to negotiate downtown traffic and get out to the site she’d found. Once there, he pulled his Range Rover off the road and onto a patch of grass and gravel. They both got out of the car and walked a couple hundred yards into a large empty field.

If she’d known she was coming out here today before she left the house, she would’ve opted for a more practical outfit than a pencil skirt and heels, but she didn’t get the tip on the land until she got into the office. Fortunately it hadn’t rained for a while, so the ground was firm and dry. It really was an ideal plot of land. The property was fairly level without many trees that would need to be cleared. One side butted up to an inlet of Lake Michigan and another to a waterfront park.

“So...” Georgia said at last. The anticipation was killing her. She didn’t know how they could find anything better than this. The property had been tied up in probate for years and the family had just now decided to sell it, or it would’ve long ago been turned into a shopping center or condos. If Carson didn’t like it, not only was she back to the drawing board, but she also had a really expensive bottle of champagne in her purse for no reason at all. “What do you think?”

She watched Carson survey the property with his back to her for a few minutes. When he finally faced her, his winning grin was broader than ever. “It’s amazing. Perfect.”

Carson walked across the empty field with his hands shoved into his pants pockets. There was a casual air about him that belied how intense he could be in business affairs. Georgia had seen more than one person underestimate the youngest Newport and regret it.

“How did you ever find out about this place?”

“I know a guy,” Georgia said with a smile. She’d sent out quiet feelers several weeks ago and hadn’t heard anything back until today. An acquaintance from college had told her about the land. It wasn’t publicly for sale, at least not yet. She’d spoken to the owners and they were entertaining bids on the whisper listing through the end of next week. She got the idea they wanted to move quickly and with as little hassle as possible. If they didn’t get an offer they liked by then, they’d announce the sale. If the Newport Corporation moved fast, they could avoid the sale becoming public and competitors driving up the price of the land.

Carson turned back to her. “You know a guy? I love it.”

“Shall we buy it?” Georgia asked. “We don’t have a lot of time to decide. Someone will snatch it up, I’m certain.”

“Yes, I think we should buy it and quickly. Let’s not even wait for my brothers’ opinions. Graham and Brooks will think it’s great.”

Georgia smiled and slipped her purse off her shoulder. The large bag could’ve easily accommodated enough stuff for a weekend vacation, but it was the purse that she carried every day. Anything she could ever possibly need was in that bag. Today that included an insulated bag with chilled champagne and cups. “I think this is cause for celebration,” she said as she pulled out the bottle.

“You’re like Mary Poppins with that thing,” Carson said with a chuckle as he leaned close to peer into the abyss of her handbag. “What else do you have in there?”

Reaching back inside, Georgia pulled out two red plastic cups. “They’re not lead crystal, but they’ll do.”

“That’s perfect. I’ve done all my best celebrating with Solo cups.” Carson took the champagne bottle and opened it. He let the cork fly across the field and then poured them both a healthy-size glass.

“To the new Cynthia Newport Memorial Hospital for Children!” Carson said, holding up his glass.

“To finally seeing your mother’s dream realized!” Georgia added.

As they both took a sip, Georgia noticed the faraway look of sadness in Carson’s eyes. It had been only about two months since his mother’s sudden death from an aneurysm. They’d had no warning at all. She was there, and then she was gone. Their mother was all they had for family. The brothers had taken it all very hard, but Carson especially. He decided he wanted to build a children’s hospital in her honor, since she’d done so much charity work with sick kids in her later years.

“I really can’t believe we’re making this happen.” Setting down his cup, Carson wrapped Georgia in his arms and spun her around.

“Carson!” Georgia squealed and clung to his neck, but that only made him spin faster.

When he finally set her back on the ground, both of them were giggling and giddy from drinking the champagne on empty stomachs. Georgia stumbled dizzily against his chest and held to his shoulders until the world stopped moving around her.

“Thank you for finding this,” he said.

“I’m happy to. I know it’s important to you,” she said, noting he still had his arms around her waist. Carson was the leanest of the three brothers, but his grip on her told of hard muscles hidden beneath his expensive suit.

In that moment, the giggles ceased and they were staring intently into each other’s eyes. Carson’s full lips were only inches from hers. She could feel his warm breath brushing over her skin. She’d imagined standing like this with him so many times, and every one of those times, he’d kissed her.

Before she knew what was happening, Carson brought her fantasy to reality by dipping his head and pressing his lips to hers. The champagne was just strong enough to mute the voices in her head that told her this was a bad idea. Instead she gave in to his kiss, pulling him closer.

He tasted like champagne and spearmint. His touch was gentle yet firm. She could’ve stayed just like this forever, but eventually, Carson pulled back from the kiss.

For a moment, Georgia felt light-headed. She didn’t know if it was his kiss or the champagne, but she felt as though she would lift right off the ground if she let go. Then she looked up at him.

His green eyes reflected sudden panic. Her emotions came crashing back down to the ground with the reality she saw there. She had just kissed her boss. Her boss! And despite the fact that he had initiated it, he looked just as horrified by the idea.

“Georgia, I...” he started, his voice trailing off. “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

With a quick shake of her head, she dismissed his words and took a step back from him. “Don’t worry about it,” she said. “Excitement and champagne will make people do stupid things every time.”

The problem was that it didn’t feel stupid. It had felt amazing. Better than any fantasy she’d ever had about Carson. But that didn’t make it a good idea.

“I hope this won’t make things awkward between us. I’d hate for my thoughtlessness to ruin our working relationship.”

“It’s fine, Carson. Please. Things happen when you work closely with someone. Besides that,” she admitted reluctantly, “I wasn’t exactly fighting you off.”

“Georgia?”

She’d avoided his gaze once their lips parted and she saw his inevitable regret, but the pleading, husky sound of his voice as he said her name made her look back at him. The regret was gone and there was a fire in his eyes now as he looked at her. His jaw was tight. With an expression like that, she would say he desired her, but that couldn’t possibly be right. That kiss was a mistake and they both knew it. Right? “Yes?”

“I—”

A hard buzz against Georgia’s breast startled her. At the same time, a chirp sounded from Carson’s suit pocket, interrupting what he was about to say. It was their office phones.

Georgia swallowed her disappointment, turned her back to him and reached into her blouse to retrieve her phone. She always kept it on silent, tucked away in her shirt so she would know when she got a call without interrupting business. When she looked down, the message on the screen nearly devastated her.

“Sutton Winchester has announced plans to build luxury waterfront condos here,” Carson said.

Georgia clicked on the link to the news article his administrative assistant, Rebecca, had sent them both. She’d left the information on the property with Rebecca in case Brooks or Graham came in and asked where they were. Instead she’d used it to uncover their competition. The story was accompanied by an image of the fancy development they planned to build on the spot where they were standing. The article noted that Sutton’s offer on the land hadn’t been accepted yet, but he was confident that it would be, and he was rallying support for the project. Below the artist’s rendering of the buildings was a picture of Sutton Winchester.

Georgia had no doubt Sutton must have been able to charm any woman he wanted when he was a younger man. He had quite the reputation where women were concerned even now, despite his age and longtime marriage to Celeste Van Houten. Georgia could see why. His light brown hair was mostly gray now and wrinkles lined his face, but his green eyes were still bright, and his dimpled smile exuded confidence. Fortunately Georgia knew to stay far away from the likes of Winchester. He was an underhanded bastard in business dealings. He bribed, seduced and lied to get his way, screwing over the Newport Corporation on more than one occasion and putting a handful of other companies out of business entirely.

Georgia let her phone drop to her side and turned back to face Carson. Their kiss faded into her distant memory as she focused on their next steps.

There was a steely determination set into his expression when he looked at her. “We need to move quickly. I can’t—I won’t—let that bastard Sutton steal this out from under us.”

* * *

“There’s no way in hell you can let Winchester have our land,” Graham complained.

Carson reached over the back of his leather sofa, handed his older brother a bowl of hot buttered popcorn and rolled his eyes. He was hoping they wouldn’t spend tonight talking about this, but it was clear Graham wasn’t going to let it go. “You think I don’t know that?”

“Has our offer gone in yet?” Graham’s twin, Brooks, asked. The older brothers were identical, each a good two inches taller than Carson with shaggy blond hair and aqua eyes. It was easy for Carson to tell his brothers apart, though. Brooks’s brow was always furrowed with concern and thought. He had that exact expression now as he tried to balance the three bottles of microbrew that he brought with him from the kitchen.

Carson nodded and went back through his dining room to the kitchen to grab a bag of M&M’S and a box of Twizzlers off the quartz bar. “We called and submitted the offer while we were still standing in the field. The seller’s attorney was mum about other offers they’d received, including Winchester’s. There’s no way to know if what we’ve submitted is on par with the others, so all we can do is wait and see if they come back with a counteroffer before they make a final decision.”

Carson settled on the couch beside his brothers. “Now, can we please let this unpleasant conversation drop so we can enjoy The Maltese Falcon in peace?”

“Fine,” Graham muttered and shoved a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

It was the first Thursday of the month, and that meant it was movie night in the Newport family. Since they were small, they’d gathered on the couch with their mother and Gerty to watch old black-and-white movies on AMC. Gerty, a widow, had worked with their mother at a café where they waitressed together before Carson was born. When Gerty retired, she’d invited Cynthia and her boys to live with her. The apartment their mother could afford was tiny and she had three growing boys who needed room to roam. Gerty didn’t like being in her big house all alone and welcomed the family.

She wasn’t blood, but Gerty had been the only family they had besides each other. For reasons their mother had never wanted to discuss, their father and the rest of their family were out of the picture. As Carson and his brothers got older and pushed, Cynthia had told them only that their father was abusive and she ran away to protect them all. They were better off without him in their lives, she insisted, and she made them promise not to seek him out.

For a long time, the boys had been saddened but content with that answer. They wouldn’t want to hurt their mother by seeking out a dangerous man who would only make them regret it. Besides, they had their spunky pseudo grandmother Gerty and their mother. They didn’t need anyone else.

Then they lost Gerty to cancer when they were in high school. She’d left them enough money to go to college and make something of themselves. Carson and his brothers had done just that, starting the Newport Corporation and becoming wealthier than they ever imagined by developing real estate in Chicago. They couldn’t have done it without Gerty, so they honored her memory by drinking beer and watching the old favorites once a month.

“Double the offer,” Graham insisted as he picked up the television remote and started the film.

“We can’t afford that,” Brooks argued, ever the voice of reason between the twins. Without him, Graham would’ve gotten himself into trouble with some crazy scheme long before now.

“We can find the money somewhere,” Graham said, pausing the movie before it had even begun.

Carson sighed. He knew better than to think Graham would simply shut up about it. When he got an idea in his head, he wouldn’t let it go. He was like a bulldog with a bone, which made him a great attorney, but a pain as a brother. Graham was the corporate attorney for the Newport Corporation, although he spent most of his time working at his law firm, Mayer, Mayer and Newport. Brooks was their chief operations officer but spent most days working remotely from his mansion on Lake Michigan. Carson was the CEO, running the company they’d started together, but that didn’t stop his brothers from putting their two cents into every decision he made.

“Sure thing,” Carson agreed. “We can start by firing our attorney and making him return his corporate car.”

“Hey!” Graham complained. He shoved a sharp elbow into Carson’s ribs.

Carson returned the elbow, making his brother howl and scramble to the far side of the couch. He was used to the physical and mental bullying that being the younger brother entailed, but he’d learned to fight back a long time ago. Now that they were in their thirties, it hadn’t changed much. “You said to find the money. You didn’t say where. Now, will you let it go so we can watch the movie?”

Graham scowled and picked up his beer from the coffee table. “Fine.”

Brooks grabbed the remote from Graham and hit the play button. As the opening credits were still playing, Graham studied his bottle and said, “You know, Gerty would whup our asses for drinking this highbrow beer.”

This time, Carson snorted aloud. He was right. Gerty preferred to watch her movies with a plain Hershey’s bar and a can of classic Budweiser. If she’d still been alive, she’d have given them a hard time over their fancy new lives, including the small-batch artisanal brew they bought downtown.

“I miss Gerty,” Brooks said, pausing the movie just as the grainy black-and-white images of San Francisco came onto the screen.

“I miss Mom,” Carson added.

The three brothers sat together in silence for a moment, acknowledging everything that they’d lost. Their mother’s death had been so sudden, and their lives so busy, that they’d hardly had the time to sit and let the reality of her death hit them. They were alone now, except for each other. It was a sad thought, one Carson had tried to avoid. It sent his mind spiraling down into rabbit holes.

“When are we going to clean out her house?” Graham asked.

That was a task they’d also avoided. They’d had their mother’s housekeeper throw away all the perishables and close the house up until they were able to deal with her things. Eight weeks had gone by and none of them had even set foot in their mother’s home.

Brooks sighed. “We have to do it eventually. We can’t leave her house sitting there like some kind of old shrine.”

“I’ll do it,” Carson volunteered. The words slipped out so suddenly he surprised even himself. “Just let me take care of this land deal first. I have a feeling I’ll have my hands full with Sutton for a while.”

“Are you sure?” Brooks looked at him with his blond brows furrowed in concern. “You don’t have to do it by yourself.”

Carson shook his head. “You two don’t have time. Besides, I want to. Maybe being around her things will make me feel less...”

“Alone?”

He turned and looked at Brooks. “Maybe.”

“Do you think...” Graham began, then hesitated. “Do you think we might find something about our father among her things?”

Carson had wondered the same thing several times, but hadn’t allowed himself to speak the words out loud. “Mom wouldn’t want us to find him.”

“Mom doesn’t get a vote anymore,” Brooks argued. “Our father might be the royal bastard she always told us he was, but he’s not the only one out there we might find. We might have siblings, cousins, grandparents... It’s possible that we have a whole family out there that would be worth the effort to track down. Don’t you want to know where we come from? We would finally be able to fill out our family tree. I know Mom tried to keep us from finding out the truth, but with her gone, I don’t think she’d want us to feel as isolated as we do.”

“We can at least try,” Graham added. “If we find something we can use, great. If not, well, at least we can say we tried. It might be a stupid move that we’ll regret, but at least we’ll finally know for ourselves, right?”

His brothers were right. Carson knew it. They all felt a sense of not belonging. Finding where they came from, even if they didn’t get the happy family reunion they all secretly hoped for, would give them closure. They’d always wonder if they didn’t find out the truth. Since their parents hadn’t married and his name was left off their birth certificates, cleaning out their mother’s house might be the only chance they had to uncover a clue. After that, their only leads would be in the landfill.

“I’ll keep my eyes open, okay?” Carson finally agreed. “If I find something we can use, I’ll let you know.”

The brothers nodded in agreement, and Brooks picked up the remote again to start the movie for the third and final time.

Two

“Mr. Newport? Miss Adams is here to see you, sir.”

Carson reached out to his phone and hit the button to respond to Rebecca. “Please send her in.”

The door to his office opened a minute later and Georgia stepped inside. Her platinum-blond hair was pulled back into a bun today, highlighting her high cheekbones and sharp chin. She was wearing a pewter pantsuit that very nearly matched the color of her steely gray eyes.

Carson had tried not to pay that much attention to how Georgia looked most days, but he usually failed. She was a fashionable woman who knew exactly what she should wear to highlight her outrageous curves. As her boss, he shouldn’t notice she was built like a brick house. He shouldn’t care that she wore a shiny lip gloss that made her pouty bottom lip call out to him.

And yet he couldn’t stop himself. Kissing her in the field the other day had made it that much harder. Now he knew how those curves felt beneath his palms and that the lip gloss she wore was strawberry flavored. The feeling was ten times worse than it ever was before, and if there was a time he needed to focus on work and not on how badly he wanted his director of public relations, it was now.

“Any word?” she asked as she came across the room and settled into his guest chair.

“I spoke with the sellers directly this morning. They’ve still not made a decision. I told them to give us the chance to counter their offer before they choose someone else. That doesn’t mean that Winchester won’t do the same thing, bidding us up to well outside our top price.”

“I hate this waiting game,” Georgia said.

Carson sat back in his leather executive chair and brought his fingertips pensively to his lips. “Me, too. What other avenues can we pursue while we wait?”

“Well,” Georgia began as she lifted her tablet and started tapping on the screen. “First, I think we should try talking to Winchester.”

Carson put his coffee mug back down on his desk, happy he hadn’t had a mouthful of steaming hot liquid to spit out when she made her suggestion. “Talk to Winchester? Are you serious?”

Georgia shrugged. “Why not? Surely the man can be reasoned with. This project is to help sick children. How could he possibly be against sick children?”

Carson chuckled and shook his head. “You obviously haven’t met the son of a bitch yet. Did you know he refers to himself as the King of Chicago? A man with that kind of ego isn’t going to back down for anything. Contacting him will just tip him off to the fact that we’re his competition. He’ll drive up the price just to watch us squirm.”

“You don’t think he already knows?” Georgia asked. “If we know he’s bid, I’m sure he’s got enough spies to know we have, as well. What he may not know is what we plan to do with the land. That might make a difference and get him to back down.”

Carson put his elbows on his desk, leaned forward and gave her a wry smile. “You really are an optimist, aren’t you?”

An odd expression came across her face, her brows pinching together in thought. “I guess you could say that. Sometimes there’s nowhere to go but up,” she responded cryptically.

He wasn’t quite sure what to say to that, but he knew she was right. It couldn’t hurt to call up Sutton and talk to him man-to-man. Winchester was old-school. It was possible he’d appreciate Carson manning up and calling him. It was also possible it wouldn’t help, but at least he could say he’d tried to reason with him.

“Okay, you win,” he said. “I’ll call him, but don’t get your hopes up.”

Turning to his computer, he looked up Sutton’s number and dialed the phone. All the while, Georgia watched him with a mix of excitement and anxiety on her face. Carson was pretty certain it would be replaced with disappointment soon enough. He didn’t want to see those full lips turned down into a frown, but it probably couldn’t be helped where Sutton was concerned.

A perky-sounding woman answered the phone. “Elite Industries, Mr. Winchester’s office. How may I assist you?”

“Yes, this is Carson Newport. I’d like to speak with Sutton, please.”

“Hold please, Mr. Newport.”

An irritating instrumental music track started playing when Carson was put on hold. He tapped his fingers on the desk to the anxious rhythm in his mind as he waited. It took nearly two minutes for anyone to pick up the line again.

There was a short, muffled string of coughs. “Carson Newport,” a man’s voice barked into the phone. It was a deep, gravelly sound, laced with a cockiness that Carson didn’t care for. “I wasn’t expecting a call from you today. Tell me, what can the King of Chicago do for the Newport Corporation?”

Sit on it and rotate was the first thought that came to mind, but Carson swallowed the words. “Good afternoon, Sutton. I’m calling today to talk to you about the lakeside project you announced a few days ago.”

“Won’t it be splendid? Best waterfront views for miles. I’ve already got a list of potential buyers lined up for the best units. Are you interested in one, Carson? I’ll give you the sweetest corner unit I’ve got. Wall-to-wall windows overlooking Lake Michigan.”

Carson gritted his teeth. “That’s a very kind offer, Sutton, but I’m not looking for a place to live. I’m actually looking for a place to build a new children’s hospital.”

There was a moment of silence on the line. “That’s a very noble project,” Sutton said, refusing to acknowledge what Carson was after.

“I agree. I think the Cynthia Newport Memorial Hospital for Children will be an asset to the community and a testimony to my mother’s work with kids.”

There was a longer silence on the line this time. Unsure of what was going through Sutton’s mind, he went on. “The problem is that we were looking at the same property you’ve identified for those condos and put in our own bid around the time that you did.”

“That’s a shame.”

Carson was really getting annoyed with Sutton’s vagueness. He wasn’t about to make it easier on Carson. He was going to make him ask for it. Beg for him to withdraw the offer. “I’m calling because I was hoping I could convince you to set the condo project aside and let us have the land to build the hospital.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Carson. I’ve already got way too much money invested in this project.”

“Sutton, I—”

“How about this?” Sutton interrupted. “How about tomorrow about three or so, you send that pretty little PR director of yours over here. I’ll discuss it with her and see if we can’t come to some kind of arrangement.”

Carson looked down and realized his hand was clenched into a tight fist as though he could punch the old man through the phone line. He consciously unclenched and stretched his fingers, noticing Georgia’s curious expression as she watched him across the desk.

“What is it?” she mouthed silently.

He could only shake his head and hold up a finger for her to wait. “That’s not really her sandbox, Sutton.”

“I don’t care,” Sutton snapped. “She will come here tomorrow at three or the discussion is over. You and your sick kids can find somewhere else to convalesce.”

Before Carson could respond, the line went dead. He studied the phone in his hand a moment before setting it gently onto the cradle. He was a little shell-shocked from the conversation and needed a few moments to gather his thoughts.

“What did he say?”

“No,” he said. Carson wasn’t about to tell her about Sutton’s demands. That guy had a reputation when it came to young and beautiful women. Carson wouldn’t let any females in his social circle even get close to Winchester, especially not Georgia. He felt protective of her, even though he had no real claim to her. “I told you he wouldn’t budge.”

“He said a hell of a lot more than no,” Georgia pointed out. “What did he say? Tell me.”

Carson sighed. He sat back in his chair and ran his fingers through his blond waves. “It doesn’t matter what he said, Georgia. The point is that he isn’t going to back down.”

Georgia arched one delicate brow and leaned forward. “Tell me, or heaven help me, I’ll march down this hallway and tell your brother Sutton gave you an out but you refused to take it.”

He immediately straightened up in his chair. “What is this, elementary school?”

She only shrugged and sat back, casually crossing her shapely legs. She couldn’t have been over five-five, but sometimes Carson was certain that at least four feet of her was leg. He’d given a lot of thought to how they’d feel wrapped around his waist.

“Carson!”

He snapped out of his mental reverie and flung his arm up in defeat. “Okay. He wants to meet with you.” He spat out the words with disgust.

“With me? That doesn’t make any sense.”

Carson could only shake his head. “It makes perfect sense when we’re talking about Sutton Winchester. He very specifically requested you and said he wouldn’t speak to anyone else. I’m pretty sure he’s interested in more than just talking to you, Georgia.”

Georgia’s lips formed a small O of surprise. “Wow,” she said at last.

“I can’t send you over there into that wolf den. Odds are that in the end, it won’t make any difference. We just need to increase our offer and hope it’s enough.”

“No.”

Carson frowned. “What do you mean, no?”

“I want to go. He’s asked for me, so maybe I’m the one who can sway his decision.”

“I can’t risk it, Georgia. If that guy so much as lays a finger on you, I’ll never forgive myself.”

Georgia’s lips curled into a wicked grin, highlighting today’s dark burgundy lipstick. “I’m no debutante, Carson. I may have nice clothes and a good education now, but there was a time where I had to fight for survival each and every day. I can hold my own. If he gets inappropriate, I’ll give him a good dose of pepper spray.”

Now it was Carson’s turn to look shocked. He envisioned Sutton Winchester—the King of Chicago—rolling around on the ground as he screamed and clawed at his eyes. But he’d love to hear her tell him about it.

He also couldn’t forget that he’d promised his brothers that he would make this hospital project happen. Whether he liked it or not, he needed to do whatever it took, even if it meant sending Georgia right into that bastard’s clutches.

“Okay, you can go,” he said at last. “On one condition. You take Big Ron with you.” The head of security at the Newport Corporation was a former Olympic heavy lifter. He’d once told Carson he slapped a man across the face and accidently broke his jaw. He could snap Sutton like a twig, if necessary.

Georgia considered his stipulations for a moment and then nodded. “Okay. But he stays outside the office with the secretary unless I call him.”

* * *

“May I offer you something to drink?”

“No, thank you,” Georgia replied. Sitting in the guest chair across from Sutton Winchester’s ostentatious oak desk, she couldn’t help but fiddle with the collar of her shirt. After Carson’s warnings yesterday, she’d chosen a pantsuit instead of a skirt and buttoned her blouse up to her throat.

It had been a long time since she’d dressed that way. Probably not since she lived with Mrs. Anderson. She’d been a religious fanatic and swore up and down that any inch of skin Georgia showed would tempt a good man into sin. Truth be told, once Georgia blossomed into her full figure, there wasn’t anything a turtleneck would do to hide it.

Even now, she could feel Sutton’s eyes rake across her body. The July heat in Chicago was absolutely miserable, but at the moment she was wishing she’d worn a heavy down coat.

Sutton poured himself a drink and settled back into his chair. Georgia noticed that the man in front of her bore little resemblance to the press picture she’d seen in the paper the other day. He was still a tall and relatively handsome man, but the green eyes watching her had a dull look. It was made more obvious by the bags under them and the wrinkles lining his brow. He looked ten years older than she’d expected, even with his wide grin and trademark dimples.

“So, Miss Adams, is it?” he asked before scooting up to the desk.

“Yes.”

Sutton nodded and leaned forward to close some of the space between them. “I bet you’re wondering why I asked you here today.”

“Actually, yes. I’m not really the most qualified person to explain the plans the Newport Corporation has for the hospital, but I’ll do the best I can. The current children’s hospital is a dinosaur with outdated equipment and too few rooms and staff to provide for the number of children that need treatment. The plans we have for the new hospital will include state-of-the-art—”

Sutton held up his hand to silence her. “Actually, Miss Adams, you can stop there. To be honest, I didn’t invite you here to talk about the land deal.”

Georgia’s brows went up in surprise. Carson had been right. She should’ve known better than to fall into this trap. Holding her purse tightly in her lap, she slipped one hand inside and wrapped her fingers around her trusty pepper spray. “May I ask why you did ask me here, Mr. Winchester?”

“Please, call me Sutton,” he said with a smile that should’ve charmed her but immediately put Georgia on edge. In her years of foster care, she’d become a very good judge of character, and it took only a few minutes for her to know that she had to tread very carefully with this man.

“I saw you recently on the news speaking about the Newport Corporation’s sponsorship of a charity fun run. I was impressed by you. Impressed enough that I had my people look into more of your work. You have a remarkable résumé for someone of your age.”

Georgia tried not to squirm under his praise. She was very proud of how far she’d come in life. She’d worked damn hard to keep herself from becoming another sad statistic of the failing foster care system. Landing the job at Newport Corporation was the culmination of everything she had worked for. But she didn’t like hearing it from Sutton’s lips. Perhaps it was how he was looking at her as he said it.

“My director of public relations has recently retired. I haven’t had a single applicant that could beat you out for the job.”

Georgia straightened up in her seat and put on a flattered smile. “Luckily for them, I already have a job.”

Sutton thoughtfully stroked his chin. “Yes, you do. But I think you can do better.”

Her breath caught in her throat as Sutton pushed up from his chair and rounded the desk. He stopped just in front of her and leaned back on the edge. The hem of his pants brushed her ankle as he stretched out, causing her to tuck her legs up under the chair and out of his reach.

“What are you suggesting, Mr. Winchester?”

“I’m suggesting you come work for me, Georgia.”

That wasn’t going to happen. She didn’t care for his cutthroat business practices. She wouldn’t feel good about working for him. “And why would I do that?”

“Well,” Sutton chuckled, “to start, it’s the natural progression of your career. Everyone wants to work for the best, and Elite Industries is the best. Of course, there is also a generous benefits and compensation package. We offer an in-house day care, a fitness center and a month of vacation to start, plus telecommuting at least one day a week.”

It sounded nice. If she was looking. And she wasn’t.

“And then there’s the signing bonus.”

Georgia decided to bite. She’d done her fair share of market research to see if her earnings were on par with her peers’. If Elite Industries really was the step up he claimed it was, there should be some solid numbers behind that offer. “How much are we talking?”

“A million.”

Her eyes widened as she struggled to choke down her shock. That was not at all what she was anticipating. A million dollar–signing bonus? What the hell kind of salary was he offering with a signing bonus like that? “That’s very g-generous,” she stuttered. “What’s the catch?”

Sutton narrowed his green gaze at her and smiled wide. “Smart girl. Nothing is free in this world, as you are well aware, I’m sure. That said, I don’t like to think of it as a catch. More as a...retainer for our mutually beneficial arrangement. You see, I’d like you to become more than just an employee to me, Georgia.”

He said the words as casually as if he’d offered her a drink. It took Georgia a minute even to be certain she’d heard what she thought she did. Was he asking her to be his mistress? Carson had warned her that Sutton was a lech, but she’d never expected to be offered the opportunity to service him sexually as though it were another job opening at the company. Had his mistress retired, too?

“I’m flattered, Mr. Winchester. Really, I am. But I’m going to have to pass. On everything,” she added with a pointed tone.

A flicker of disappointment danced over Sutton’s worn face and then vanished just as quickly. “You don’t have to decide now,” he insisted. “It’s a big decision. Go home and ponder what kind of opportunity I’m offering. Think about what you can do with a million dollars. When you change your mind, I’ll be waiting.”

Georgia wasn’t going to change her mind. Not even for a million dollars. Even if Sutton wasn’t old enough to be her father, he really wasn’t her type. Thirty years ago, he might have attracted her at first sight, but his personality would’ve sunk that ship before it could sail. No amount of money or charisma would’ve changed that.

And even if Sutton was the most handsome, virtuous man she’d ever met, Georgia would still not be his employee. It was bad enough she’d gotten wrapped up in the moment and kissed Carson at the build site. She’d crossed the line with her boss and had regretted it ever since. Well, at least she regretted most of it. Kissing Carson had been amazing. She wanted more of him, and yet she was determined not to let that happen. Sleeping with the boss was bad news. And cliché. She refused to be cliché. She also refused to ruin the good thing she had going at the Newport Corporation.

Inappropriate relations in the workplace just led to awkwardness. Georgia was dedicated to doing her best work every day. She couldn’t do that with Carson walking around, reminding her of what they did or didn’t do. Things always got weird. It was bad enough she fantasized about him. Acting on it was another matter. Sutton had been a welcome distraction from what happened that day, but once the land deal was finalized, they’d both have to face what they’d done.

“I will think it over, Mr. Winchester, but my answer isn’t going to change. Now, what about the children’s hospital?”

Sutton sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. “My answer hasn’t changed, either. We’ll battle it out fair and square with the property owner and let the best—or at least the richest—man win. Unless, of course, you’d like to reconsider my offer... If you change your mind, then perhaps I might change mine, as well.”

This was even worse than she’d thought. Now he was trying to twist her arm by using such a noble cause against her. What was she willing to do for sick children? A lot. But not that. She grew up with almost nothing, but she’d managed to hang on to her principles.

There was nothing else she could say, so Georgia stood up and slung her purse over her shoulder. “I guess we’re done here,” she said.

Sutton reached out to take her hand. He shook it for a moment, then held it longer than necessary. He ran his thumb over the back of her hand, sending a shiver of revulsion down her spine. “Consider my offer, Georgia. There are a lot of parents with sick children out there that would be willing to do anything to save their child. In the end, it isn’t much of a sacrifice to help so many, is it?”

Georgia tugged her hand from his and rubbed the palm over her slacks to wipe him away from her skin. “Good afternoon, Mr. Winchester.”

Three

“He what?”

Carson very rarely lost his temper in the office, but he could tell by Georgia’s startled cringe that he’d just shouted loud enough for the people in Accounting to hear him. “I’m sorry,” he said more softly. “Just please tell me I didn’t hear you right.”

She didn’t need to answer him. He could tell by the distant look in her eye and her awkward, hunched posture with her arms crossed protectively over her chest that he’d heard her correctly. He’d always known Sutton was a bastard, but this time he’d gone too far.

“Don’t make me say it again, Carson,” she said softly.

He fought the protective urge to wrap his arms around her and tell her it would be okay. After the day she’d had, she probably didn’t want a man touching her. Even him. Considering how quickly she’d backpedaled from their kiss the other day, she probably didn’t want Carson touching her, ever.

Looking around his office, he decided maybe they needed a change of scene for this conversation. “Buy you a drink?” he asked.

Georgia looked down at her watch and sighed. “I’m not going to get any work done, so why not?”

It wasn’t an enthusiastic response, but he didn’t expect one given that she’d just come here straight from Sutton’s office. He grabbed his phone and escorted her to the elevator. They exited the building and crossed the street, heading down the block to an Irish pub where Carson and his brothers had spent a good bit of their time and money over the years.

Since the official business day hadn’t yet come to an end, the bar wasn’t crowded with the usual suits. They took a booth in a darkened corner. Carson ordered himself a Guinness and Georgia opted for a pint of hard cider. They sat quietly for a few moments with their drinks. He didn’t want to push her, but he needed the whole story. Brooks and Graham would be very interested in just how low Winchester had stooped today.

Georgia took a long sip of her drink and sighed heavily. “Well, the punch line is that he isn’t going to back down on the land. He doesn’t care if we’re building a children’s hospital or homes for one-legged orphan refugees. Well, actually that’s not entirely true,” she noted. “He said he might reconsider his position if I was willing to seriously consider his generous offer.”

Carson’s grip on his glass was so tight he worried he might crush the drink in his hand. “What was the offer?”

“First, he offered me a job as his director of public relations with a million-dollar signing bonus.”

That didn’t surprise him. Sutton was constantly cherry-picking employees from his competitors. They’d lost several high performers due to his below-the-belt tactics. But who offered a seven-figure bonus? “I never knew he was such a generous man,” he said with a flat tone.

“I wouldn’t call him that,” she chuckled. “It came with some very important fine print. I was also to become his mistress. Then, and only then, would he consider backing down on the land project.”

“Did he touch you inappropriately?” Carson hated to ask, but if Sutton crossed a line, Georgia could bring charges. She wasn’t his employee yet, but at the very least they could file a civil suit and drag his name through the mud.

“Not really.” Georgia rubbed her palms together thoughtfully. “He held my hand longer than I wanted him to, but it could’ve been a lot worse.”

“Thank goodness,” Carson said in a rush of breath he’d been holding. Just the thought of that old pervert laying a hand on Georgia made him want to punch his fist through the drywall. He felt bad enough about letting her go over there against his better judgment. If Sutton had gotten physically aggressive, Carson never would’ve forgiven himself. “I’m so sorry about all this. He’s an even bigger pig than I expected. Where was Ron during all of this? I told you he had to escort you over there.”

“He did. I just left him sitting in the waiting room as I told you I would.”

“You didn’t call for him when Sutton got inappropriate?”

“No. Like I said, he didn’t really touch me. He just made me an offer I didn’t accept,” Georgia said with a guilty look. She held up her hand to silence him. “I know, I know. But I had it under control. My finger was on the trigger of my pepper spray the whole time. Sutton is bold, and certainly arrogant, but he’s also smart. He’s not going to have a woman run screaming from his office. It would hurt business.”

That was probably true. The only thing Sutton Winchester liked more than women was money. He wasn’t about to ruin his business and jeopardize his cash flow. It didn’t make Carson feel any better. Georgia was confident in her ability to protect herself, but he had his doubts.

She was a petite woman. Curvy, but small. With her platinum waves and knockout body, she drew men’s eyes wherever she went. She had certainly drawn his gaze the first moment they met. A part of him hadn’t wanted to hire her just so he could ask her out to dinner instead. In the end, his brain had overridden his erection. She was smart, experienced and the perfect candidate for the position.

“Georgia,” he began, “I need to apologize to you.”

“You just apologized. Really, Carson, it’s not your fault. You warned me about what he was like. I just never dreamed he’d be that bold.”

Carson shook his head. “I’m certainly sorry about what happened today, but that’s not what I was apologizing for. I actually was talking about that kiss by the lake.”

Georgia’s soft, friendly expression hardened. He could tell she was uncomfortable with his bringing it up. “Carson, I—”

“No, let me say this,” he interrupted. “In the moment, it felt like the right thing to do. But after what happened today, I realize just how inappropriate it was. If I don’t recognize that, I’m just as bad as he is.”

Georgia reached across the table and took Carson’s hand. “You will never, ever be anything like that man. Don’t even think that for a second.”

Carson looked into her gray eyes, noting the touch of olive green that radiated from the center. It was an unusual color, one he’d never seen before. Her gaze seemed to penetrate him, as if she were seeing inside him in a way that made him uncomfortable. He looked down at their hands, which were still clasped atop the polished wood table.

It was only then that he allowed himself to notice how soft her skin felt against his. As he grasped her fingers, the blood started to hum in his veins. He remembered the sensation from the field, knew how long it would take him to recover from the reaction she stirred in him.

He didn’t understand it. Georgia was beautiful, but Carson had touched his fair share of beautiful women. She was smart and funny, and he’d been around women like that, too. But never, not once since he broke the seal on his manhood in high school, had a woman affected him the way Georgia did. Lately all it took was the lingering scent of her perfume in the hallways at work, and he was consumed with thoughts of her.

Carson hated Sutton for putting the moves on Georgia, but he understood fully why he had done it. She had the power to enchant a man without even trying. A million dollars was chump change to Sutton, especially when it was a corporate write-off, but it was still a significant offer. If it came to it, what would Carson be willing to pay to keep her with him?

All that and more.

Looking up, he realized Georgia’s expression had changed. She was no longer softly consoling him. Now her brow was lined with concern, and he realized it was because he was still holding her hand as though he might be repelled from the face of the earth if he didn’t cling to her.

He immediately let her hand go and buried his own beneath the table. “I’m sorry. That probably just made it worse. I...I don’t know why I have such a hard time maintaining a professional distance when I’m around you, Georgia. I’ve never had this problem before.”

She nodded curtly and took another large drink, finishing off her glass without meeting his gaze. “I understand. We’re both human, after all. We work together a lot, so the temptation is there. But we’re strong, smart people. We can fight it.”

Georgia said the words, but as he looked at her, he wasn’t entirely sure she believed them. For the first time, the pieces started to click together in Carson’s mind. She’d said “we,” as in she was attracted to him, as well. That would certainly explain her flushed cheeks when he greeted her in the hallway and her more than enthusiastic response to his kiss. It was one thing for him to be attracted to her, but knowing the feeling was mutual would make this all ten times harder.

They needed to focus on work. That was what they were good at, what offered the best distraction. Going over their conversation about Sutton in his mind, he decided to talk strategy going forward. “So what is our next step?” he asked. “We’ve got to secure that land no matter what Sutton wants.”

A sly smile spread across Georgia’s face. There was a twinkle of mischief in her gray eyes as she looked at him and said, “Next, we play dirty.”

* * *

Smile. Look into the camera. Focus.

“I’d like to thank you all for coming today,” Georgia began, ignoring the camera flashes and microphones in her face. Because she was PR director, press conferences fell into her job description, but she was always filled with nerves in front of the camera. Especially today. This was her moment to turn the tide with the land deal, and she couldn’t screw it up.

“The Newport Corporation is a family company. It was founded by brothers Brooks, Graham and Carson Newport as a small real estate venture that turned into much more. CEO Carson Newport once told me that he knew they were a success when they were able to buy their mother, Cynthia Newport, a home and let her retire early.

“The love these three men had for their mother is why I’ve asked you to be here today. With her newfound free time, Cynthia discovered a purpose in working with sick children at the local hospital. She spent hours there reading stories, playing games and helping children forget—if for just a short time—about the pain and fear they lived with each day.”

Georgia looked down at her notes and confirmed her next point. “The entire Newport Corporation was extremely saddened to hear about the sudden loss of Cynthia Newport two months ago. Without warning, she was stricken with a brain aneurysm, and there was nothing that could be done. She was only fifty-five years old.

“Cynthia’s sons have decided that the best way to honor their mother’s memory is to put their resources and expertise into the cause that was so dear to her heart. Ladies and gentleman,” she said, reaching for the easel beside her, “I give you the plans for the Cynthia Newport Memorial Hospital for Children.”

She removed a blank placard and revealed the artist’s rendering of the hospital underneath. Georgia waited a moment for the cameras to stop flashing before she continued. “Newport Memorial will be the most sophisticated facility for children in the US. They will provide cutting-edge technology, the best treatment and the most skilled staff available.”

Georgia spied Carson standing near the back of the crowd of reporters. Quite a few had showed up today for the press conference, huddling in a semicircle in the garden courtyard of the Newport building. Even then, he was easy to spot, especially with his brother, Brooks, beside him. The COO was almost always the tallest man in the room unless Graham was in the office. The two of them were like Norse gods in expensive suits.

Carson was like a demigod, half man, half immortal. Just real enough for her to feel like she could stand a chance with him, but enough of a fantasy to keep her pessimistic feet firmly planted on the ground.

Losing her place in the speech, she tore her gaze away and flicked over the neatly printed lines of the press statement. “After an exhaustive search, the Newport Corporation has identified an ideal spot for the hospital overlooking Lake Michigan. Unfortunately, we are not the only company with our eyes on the land. Recently, Elite Industries has announced, perhaps prematurely, their plans to build luxury condominiums along the water.

“It is our hope that with enough community support, we can make the Newport Memorial Hospital a reality, no matter how much money our competitors might try to throw around. The community needs this facility for our children far more than we need additional fancy housing for Chicago’s wealthy.”

She reached for the artist’s rendering and set it aside to display a graphic of their social media campaign. “Show your support by posting on social media using the hashtag #NewportMemorial4Kids and letting the community know how you feel. Together, we can make this dream a reality. Now, I’ll be taking any questions.”

Georgia fielded about ten questions from the reporters about the project before ending the press conference. “Thank you,” she said as she gathered up her note cards and slipped away from the podium. Moving through the crowd packing up their equipment, she found Carson and Brooks at the back where they’d been standing earlier. “How’d I do?” she asked.

“Amazing,” Carson said with a pleased grin.

“There’s no way Winchester’s offer stands a chance with the seller after that.” Brooks held up his cell phone. “Two of the stations aired this live, and there have already been over two hundred tweets under our hashtag. When this re-airs during the evening news, it will explode.”

Georgia gave a heavy sigh of relief. She hoped this worked. If the owners were more interested in money, Winchester could still win them over.

After the press cleared out, they headed back upstairs to the executive floor. Brooks followed Carson into his office, where they poured a celebratory glass of scotch.

“Would you care for a drink, Georgia?” Brooks asked. “You certainly earned it.”

“Actually, I think I’ll pass,” she said. The adrenaline that had gotten her though the press conference was fading, and she was ready to crash. “If you two don’t mind, I think I’d like to catch an early train home and watch our segment on the news on the couch with some takeout.”

She dismissed the flicker of disappointment on Carson’s face. “Understandable,” he said. “Keep the phone nearby, though. If the seller accepts our offer, you’ll be the first person I call.”

Georgia gave them a wave and slipped down the hallway to her office. She quickly gathered her things. If she could get to the “L” platform in the next ten minutes, she’d catch the express train.

She found herself at her building about a half hour later. Once she reached her apartment door, she gave a heavy sigh of relief. Georgia loved her loft. It was the first thing she’d bought when she secured her first real executive position with a major company. She could barely afford it at the time but she had been desperate to be able finally to have a home of her own.

She hadn’t had the easiest time growing up. Her mother had been a teenage runaway when she was born. Georgia didn’t remember much about those early years, but her caseworker, Sheila, had told her when she was older that her mother had developed a heroin addiction and was working as a prostitute for drugs. Georgia had been taken away and placed in foster care when she was only three.

From there, she’d become a Ping-Pong ball, bouncing from place to place. She never lived anywhere longer than a year, and none of those places ever felt like home. She tried not to let her mind dwell too much on her childhood in Detroit, but she’d let enough of the dirty homes, strict or even abusive foster parents and secondhand everything through to let her appreciate what she had now.

This loft, with its floor-to-ceiling windows and modern, industrial elements, was everything she’d ever wanted. The walls were painted in warm, inviting colors and the plush furniture was overflowing with pillows. The kitchen was state-of-the-art despite the fact that she never cooked. She could swim in her master bathtub and have a party in the shower. She had a service come in to clean once a week, so the place was always spotless.

It was wonderful. The perfect escape from the world. Even the longest, hardest day at the office couldn’t keep the smile from her face when she walked in the door each evening.

Tonight she went through her nightly ritual. She set down her purse and disappeared into the bedroom to change. She reemerged ten minutes later with her blond hair in a knot on the top of her head, her face scrubbed free of makeup and her favorite pair of pajamas on. She poured herself a glass of pinot grigio and grabbed her favorite Chinese delivery menu before she collapsed on her suede sofa.

The delivery man arrived with her dinner with just minutes to spare before the evening newscast. The segment on the Newport Corporation was in the second news block when she was about halfway through her kung pao chicken. She didn’t like watching herself on camera, but she forced herself to do it anyway. Her speech professor had made all the students do it. It was the only way to truly see the nervous ticks and language crutches she used when she spoke in public.

All in all, not bad. Her voice was sultry, like a phone sex operator, but there was nothing she could do about it. She’d tried a million times to alter it, but it sounded fake. On the upside, she used the word “uh” only twice and she didn’t use “like” at all. Professor Kline would be very proud of her.

At the end of the segment, the news station flashed the campaign hashtag on the screen and encouraged viewers to use it to show their support. Georgia reached for her phone to check on the response. There were thousands of posts on Twitter with even more on other platforms. They were even trending.

Georgia chewed nervously at her thumbnail as she watched the posts scroll down the screen. This might actually work. She really, truly hoped so. The idea of Winchester taking that land and building condos on it made her stomach turn. She knew from experience that things weren’t always fair or just in life, but she certainly hoped she was about to outsmart the system.

The rest of the newscast dragged on. She sat in front of the TV, idly chewing her dinner and not listening to anything. She was waiting for that phone to ring. It just had to ring.

She was on her second glass of wine when the news ended, and still no call. Georgia paced anxiously across the concrete floor, gazing out at her view of the city. The sun was just setting, making the Chicago skyline a stark silhouette against the golden glow of the sky. Lights were starting to turn on around town, slowly transforming the hard, industrial shapes of downtown into a sparkling constellation.

Georgia was so lost in her thoughts that when the phone rang, she jumped nearly six inches off the ground. Turning on her heel, she ran back to the kitchen and snatched her phone off the countertop. It was Carson.

She held her breath in anticipation as she picked up. “Yes?” she answered.

“Our offer has been accepted!” he announced triumphantly. “They said it was the highest and in the end, they decided to accept it and not start a bidding war because of the newscast. We got it, Georgia, and it’s all because of your hard work.”

“Thanks,” she said, dismissing his compliment. “It’s not hard to get behind a project like this when the lives of sick children are at stake. It made my work pretty easy, I have to say. I’m very happy our project can go forward.”

“It will. Once the paperwork is signed, I want to have a grand groundbreaking ceremony. Your group will be heading up that effort. But first, we’re going to kick off the project with a cocktail party on Friday night to celebrate. Rebecca is putting it together as we speak. Wear your dancing shoes.”

Four

The sale was really happening. The lawyers were handling the details and it was off Georgia’s plate. At least for now. Once the land was officially the property of the Newport Corporation, she would start the groundbreaking-ceremony preparation. After that, she had no doubt there would be charity fund-raiser events and a million other tasks on her plate to handle.

But tonight was for celebration, not work.

Carson’s assistant had rented out a chic little bistro on the Magnificent Mile for the party. Wine was flowing like water, a jazz band was playing at a tasteful level in the corner and everyone was mingling and laughing. Every employee, from the janitor to the executives, had loved Cynthia. They knew how important this was to the brothers and were excited about this being the next new project on the agenda.

Folks had put on their fanciest cocktail attire for the night. At least, the women had. There was a rainbow of slinky and sparkly dresses in the room. Georgia herself had opted for a muted gold snakeskin cocktail dress by Tom Ford. It was a little showy, but with a high, scooped neck and long sleeves, it was also very modest, which she liked. The gold complemented her skin tone and brought out the darker tones of her platinum hair. The dress also didn’t really need any jewelry to enhance it, so she’d been able to wear a simple pair of diamond stud earrings.

As usual, the men fell back on their arsenal of suits, although Georgia didn’t mind a bit. She enjoyed the look of a man in a nice suit, especially the Newport brothers. Theirs were custom fitted to their broad shoulders and narrow hips. All three of them were milling around the room, drinks in hand. They were a ridiculously handsome trio, and every single woman in the room was eyeing the bachelors with interest. Except Georgia.

She turned away from them and glanced self-consciously around the room. She knew she should have been socializing, but she was happy to loiter at her cocktail table in the corner, watching the action. She loved working at the Newport Corporation. The people here were the family she’d never had. But at the same time, she wasn’t really great with this kind of social setting. Perhaps it was a handicap of her childhood. She’d moved too much to make friends and never had family she could count on. She watched the world go by from the fringe.

“Good evening, Georgia.”

At the sound of a man’s voice, Georgia turned to her left, startled. She was shocked to find Sutton Winchester standing so near her that they nearly brushed shoulders.

Biting down her irritation with him from earlier in the week, she smiled. “Good evening, Mr. Winchester.” After all, she’d won the battle. She should have been happy to see him and gloat about her victory.

He held up a glass of white wine. “I got you a refill,” he said.

Georgia looked down and noticed she had only half a sip left in her own glass. She set it on the table and accepted the fresh drink. “That was very thoughtful of you.”

“I’m not a complete bastard,” he said with a wry smile as he turned to look at the crowd she’d been eyeing a moment before.

“The jury is still out on that one.”

Sutton chuckled heartily before it disintegrated into a string of harsh coughs. “Pardon me,” he said, clearing his throat.

“So, what brings you to our little celebration tonight, Mr. Winchester? You don’t have any pig’s blood stashed in the rafters or anything, do you?”

“Not at all. I was actually invited,” Sutton said with emphasis. “I’m sure the Newport boys want to rub their victory in my face. I’m happy to drink wine on their tab while they do it. Besides that, I wanted to talk to you.”

“Me?” Georgia turned to him with her brow lifted in surprise.

“Yes. I saw your press conference the other day. I wanted to tell you what a good job you did with it. You worked the press and the social media outlets beautifully. The owner had no real choice but to sell to Newport after that. I underestimated your talent, Georgia. You’re much more than just a pretty face. Knowing that makes me want you on my team even more. Come work for me. I’ll bump that bonus up to 1.2 million dollars if you’ll consider it.”

Georgia couldn’t believe the nerve of him to come into their celebration and proposition her again. “That’s very generous of you, but I’m sorry, Mr. Winchester. The answer is still no.” She glanced around the crowd, looking for an escape, but everyone seemed involved in other conversations.

He nodded, sipping his drink and pursing his lips in thought. “I understand you feel a sense of loyalty to the Newports, but this offer doesn’t have to be a package deal. What about the other position we discussed?”

The other position? As his mistress? Every muscle in Georgia’s body tensed as she felt the older man take in every inch of her. She hadn’t been expecting to see Sutton tonight. She was dressed quite differently than she had at his office. Her gold dress covered all the necessary skin, but it was clingy. And short. And the back was completely bare to contrast with the chaste front. She wished she was wearing a caftan instead. Or that she could dump her wine on him and tell the pervert to go to hell. But that was unprofessional. She would hold it together and get away from him as soon as she was able.

“I’m not interested in any of the offers,” she said as forcefully as she could. “It doesn’t matter how much money is involved.”

Sutton narrowed his gaze at her. He looked a bit befuddled, as though he didn’t quite understand what she was saying to him. He was a man used to getting his way, and Georgia wasn’t playing by his rules. “May I ask why?”

Georgia searched her brain for a reason with which he couldn’t argue. He was a shrewd businessman who could likely destroy any argument as surely as an attorney during cross-examination. She didn’t want to leave any room for hope on his part.

“Georgia?” Sutton pressed.

“Fine,” she said as the idea suddenly crystallized in her mind. Good or bad, it was all she had. “I’m not going to be your mistress because I already have a lover.”

He looked shocked. Georgia wasn’t certain if she should be insulted by his response. “Who?” he asked.

“Carson Newport.” The words slipped from her lips before she could stop them, surprising even herself.

She wasn’t the only one. Sutton’s eyes were wide. He turned his head, and Georgia followed his gaze to where Carson was standing only a few feet away. He must have seen Sutton with her, because it looked as though he was on his way to rescue her from Winchester’s clutches. Her words had stopped Carson cold. He was frozen in place, his drink clutched in his hand.

“Carson Newport is your lover?” Sutton asked with an incredulous tone.

Was it so unbelievable that a man like Carson would be interested in her? She didn’t know what to say to his question. Georgia thought she might be caught in a lie. She hadn’t expected Carson to overhear all of this. Now his reaction was key to selling her story. Before she could respond, Carson sidled up beside her and wrapped his arm around her waist.

“Surprised, Sutton?”

The old man turned to him and shrugged. “To be honest, I didn’t think you had it in you, Carson.”

Carson leaned in to nuzzle Georgia’s ear and plant a searing kiss on the sensitive skin on her neck. “Go with it,” he whispered softly.

She tried to do as he said and not tense in his arms, even as a thrill of arousal ran through her body. Leaning into his touch, she let her eyes flutter closed for a moment. If she was being honest with herself, it wasn’t hard to feign interest in him. Such a simple touch had lit up her nerves like Christmas lights.

She opened her eyes in time to see Carson turn back to Sutton with a grin. “You’re not having the best week, are you? You were after waterfront property and a woman, and I bested you on both. You must be losing your touch, old man.”

With a clenched jaw, Sutton looked over both of them and slammed back the last of his drink. “I’m not the kind of man who gives up that easily, Carson. Enjoy her while you can,” he suggested before turning on his heel and stomping through the crowd to the exit.

Once he was gone, Georgia took a step away from Carson and covered her mouth with her hand to smother her embarrassment. “Oh, Carson,” she said. “I am so sorry. He put me on the spot and it just came out.”

Carson put a reassuring hand on her shoulder and shook his head. “Not to worry. It did the trick, for now, at least. I wouldn’t count on him letting it go entirely. Like he said, he’s not that kind of man. Then again, who would want to compete with me for a woman’s affections?”

At that, Georgia giggled, and the tension of the moment slipped away. Thank goodness he hadn’t read more into her naming him as her lover. “Hopefully no one was listening in on the conversation. I’d hate for rumors to start about us.”

“Oh, I’d say half the room heard you blurt out my name, but don’t worry about the rumors. Your boss knows it isn’t true, and he’s the only one who can fire you.”

“I’m relieved to hear that. The last thing I want to do is put my position at the Newport Corporation in jeopardy.”

“Well, if nothing else, I hear Sutton has a position open,” he said with laughter lighting his eyes. “Come on,” Carson said, slipping a comforting arm around her shoulder to guide her into the crowd. “No more hiding in the corner. This is your party, too. Let’s celebrate.”

* * *

Carson never went into the office on a Saturday if he could avoid it. He always tried to make the most of his time away from work so he could have a life. Or at least, so he’d have the time to have a life when he actually decided to get around to it.

The Newport brothers passed that same work-life balance philosophy on to their employees. That was why Carson was so surprised to see a light on when he walked down the hallway. It was Georgia’s office.

Curious, he paused in the doorway, hoping not to scare her. She was working intently at her computer, probably not expecting anyone to appear suddenly. He took the quiet moment to admire her without her knowing it. There was just something so appealing about Georgia. Of course, she was the blonde bombshell that most men desired, but even the little things drew him to her. At the moment, he found the crease between her eyebrows as she concentrated on her work appealing.

Today her hair was in a casual ponytail, something she would never wear to the office on an average workday. She was wearing a tight-fitting T-shirt and jeans. Carson realized in that moment that he’d never seen Georgia look like this before. She was always so professional and put together, even on a casual Friday. He appreciated that about her, but she looked so much younger and more easygoing today.

“You know, it’s rude to stare.”

Busted. Carson grinned wide and met Georgia’s amused gaze. “I wasn’t expecting to see anyone here today. Nor did I think I’d find you in jeans.”

Georgia looked down self-consciously at herself. “Is that okay? I didn’t think anyone would see me. I’m usually here alone on the weekends.”

“It’s absolutely fine,” he said, although he was concerned by the rest of her response. “Are you here most weekends?”

“Yes. I like the quiet of the office. It lets me catch up on things and focus without calls or people coming by. I know the company is big on spending time with family, but I don’t have a family.”

Carson tried not to frown. He didn’t know much about Georgia. She was all work during business hours, so they hadn’t spent much time socializing. Her office was tidy and well decorated, but there weren’t any photos of family or friends on her desk or bookshelves. Now he knew why.

“What about you?” she asked. “Why are you in today? I thought after all that champagne last night that most people would be laid out until noon at least.”

He had woken with a slight headache, but nothing he couldn’t handle. As for why he was here, that was a good question. He’d gotten into his car, fully intending to drive to his mother’s home and make good on his promise to clean out the house. The next thing he knew, he was at work. “I thought I’d come in and check on some things.”

Georgia wrinkled her nose. “You’re avoiding something,” she said without a touch of doubt in her voice.

He sighed and slumped against her door frame. Was he that transparent? “I guess I am.”

“Anything I can help you with?”

Whereas he hadn’t been looking to drag anyone into the slog of work, he realized that he didn’t dread the task so much when he envisioned Georgia there with him. “No, no. You’ve probably got better things to do,” he argued.

“No, tell me,” Georgia insisted.

“I’m supposed to be cleaning out my mother’s house. I told Brooks and Graham that I’d go through everything and start getting it ready to sell. That’s where I intended to go today, but I ended up here instead. I don’t know why.”

“I can imagine that would be difficult,” she said. “Would you like me to go with you? I’d be happy to lend a hand. At the very least, I can offer moral support.”

It sounded great, but he still felt anxious about it. “Are you sure? Her house is about a half hour from here, up in Kenilworth.”

Georgia closed her laptop and stood up. She picked up her massive black purse and slung it over her arm. “I’m sure. Let’s go.”

He wasn’t going to argue with her. Without even making it as far as his own office, they turned around and headed back to the elevator.

They were on the expressway north before they spoke again. “So tell me,” Georgia began, “what’s going on here? I mean, if you don’t mind. I get the feeling this is about more than just sorting through your mother’s things.”

Carson gripped the leather-wrapped steering wheel and focused his gaze intently on the traffic ahead of him. “Do you really want to know my tragic life story?”

Georgia snorted delicately. “I think I can trump you on tragic life stories.”

“Tell me about you, then.” Carson was far more interested in Georgia’s life than he was in rehashing his own.

She shook her head adamantly. “Nope. I asked you first. And besides, this trip is about you. I need to know if I’m treading into a mine field here.”

His brothers wanted him to dig up the truth about their father. If she was going to be there helping him, she needed to know. “Okay,” he relented. “My mother is the only real family we ever had. Our aunt Gerty died a long time ago, and she wasn’t really related to us. Losing Mom, we lost any connection we have to our roots. It’s been a difficult realization for us all.”

“I understand what that can be like,” Georgia said without elaborating. “Did your mother ever speak about her family or your father to you?”

“Rarely, and when we pushed her, nothing she said was good. She insisted that our father was abusive and she ran away from him in the middle of the night when we were still babies. She never would tell us where we lived before, his name or anything about the past. She made it very clear that she didn’t want us to find him when we were older.”

“That must be frustrating for you all,” Georgia noted. “Wanting to belong, yet having that fear that the truth would be worse than being alone.”

“Exactly,” Carson said with surprise in his voice. He didn’t expect her to be able to understand it all so easily. “Brooks and Graham want me to look for clues in the house. They seem convinced that the answers are hidden away somewhere. I’m not so sure, but I told them I would look. It’s our last chance at the truth. The rest died with Mom.”

That was probably the hardest part. Carson had gotten the feeling that maybe one day their mother might tell them the rest of the story. They weren’t children anymore. She had nothing to fear from her past because the boys could protect her, no matter what. Cynthia probably thought she had time to share the whole tale about where they came from, and then it was stolen away in an instant.

“I’ll help you find out the truth,” Georgia said.

As Carson exited the expressway and headed toward the house in Kenilworth, he found himself nearly overwhelmed with gratitude that she was here with him. That she understood. “Thank you” was all he could verbalize.

“I don’t know my real family, either,” she offered. “I grew up in the Detroit foster care system because my mother was a teenage runaway. She got into drugs and a lot of other nasty things and they took me away. I have no idea who my father is or anything about my family. My father’s name was left off the birth certificate. I don’t even know for certain that my last name is really Adams. She could’ve just picked that name out of the sky. Not having that link to your past and where you come from can make you feel like discarded paper drifting on the wind.”

Carson was surprised by her confession, but it made a lot of the pieces of the Georgia puzzle fall into place. Maybe that’s why he was so drawn to her. They were both lost, anchorless. “Have you kept contact with your mother at all over the years?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head and looking down into her hands folded in her lap. “I haven’t seen her since I was three and social services came for me. I wouldn’t really even know what she looked like if my caseworker, Sheila, hadn’t given me an old photo of her. I keep it in my purse.” Georgia reached for her bag and pulled out the photo.

Carson turned in to his mother’s driveway just as she handed over the picture. He put the car in Park and studied the worn photograph. The blonde girl in the picture was holding a towheaded toddler. She looked very young, not more than fifteen or sixteen. The late ’80s influences were evident in her big hair and heavy makeup, which didn’t hide the dark circles under her eyes or the hollowed-out cheeks. There were purple track marks on the girl’s arm.

“I think she looked a lot like me, but thinner. Harder. There wasn’t much life in her eyes by that point. Aside from that, I don’t have any memories of her that really stayed with me. I just remember the homes.”

In that moment, Carson was extremely thankful to his mother for everything she’d done for him and his brothers. They hadn’t had much, but she’d done all she could to keep them safe and healthy. Georgia hadn’t been so lucky. He handed the photo back to her. “Did you move around a lot?”

Georgia chuckled bitterly as she put the picture away. “You could say that. It was a blessing and a curse. If the family was horrible, I had the solace of knowing I wouldn’t be there long. If they were amazing and kind, I would cry every night knowing that eventually I would have to leave. The only constant in my life was Sheila. In a way, she became my family. She’s the one that helped me get into college by helping me write a million scholarship essays. She insisted that I make something of myself.”

“That was my aunt Gerty for us. She took us in after her husband died and made us her family. When she passed away, she left enough money for my brothers and me to go to college and start our business. Our mother insisted that we become the best version of ourselves we could possibly be. Without that kick start, I’m not sure what would’ve become of us. Everything we are is because of my mother and Gerty.”

Georgia reached out in that moment and took his hand. Her touch was warm and enveloping, like a comforting blanket. They sat for a moment in the driveway, silently acknowledging all that they’d shared.

His mother’s home stood like a monolith in front of them. Inside were all the memories, secrets and emotions of her life. Going inside felt like disturbing her grave somehow.

“Are you ready?” Georgia prompted him after a few minutes.

“No, but let’s go inside anyway.”

They climbed from his Range Rover and walked together toward the front door. Carson unlocked it and they stepped into the tile foyer. The house had always seemed so warm and welcoming before, but now it was cold and silent like a tomb. His mother had given it life.

“Where should we start?”

Carson looked around and pointed toward the staircase. “Let’s focus on her bedroom. If she was keeping any kind of secrets, I think that’s where they’d be.”

“Okay.” Georgia started for the stairs, but paused and turned back when Carson didn’t follow her. Her gray eyes questioned him.

Thank goodness she was here. He wouldn’t even have made it this far without her prompting. It was better this way. Get it done, get it over with. If Carson didn’t find anything about their family history, so be it. At least he and his brothers could move on with their lives. “I’m coming.”

Georgia reached out her hand to him until he took it. “My past may be buried forever, but we’re going to find your family, Carson. I can feel it.”

Five

Carson was getting discouraged. They’d gone through almost everything in his mother’s bedroom. Drawer by drawer, box by box, they’d sorted through for any personal effects and then bagged the remaining items up. Some clothes and accessories were for donation, some things were for the dump, and others, like her jewelry, were to be split up among the brothers.

Hours had gone by without a single discovery of interest. No skeletons under the bed, no dark secrets hidden away in the underwear drawer. They’d checked the pocket of every coat and the contents of each old purse. Nothing but used tubes of lipstick and some faded receipts. All that was left was a collection of shoe boxes on the very top shelf of the closet.

Carson eyed the boxes with dismay. They were likely to find nothing but shoes in them. Most of the boxes seemed like fairly new acquisitions from her life after he and his brothers had made their fortune—Stuart Weitzman, Jimmy Choo, Christian Louboutin... But one box caught his eye. On the very top of the stack, in the far back corner, was a ratty old box with a faded and curling Hush Puppies label on it. There was no doubt that box had been around in his mother’s closet for a very long time. Maybe even thirty years or so...

“There’s a shoe box in the very back corner that looks promising,” Carson said. Looking around, he was annoyed to find that it was out of his reach even with his height and long arms. “How can my mother not own a stepladder or something? I guess I’ll run downstairs and get a chair.”

“No,” Georgia insisted. “I’m sure I can reach it. I just need you to give me a boost.”

Carson looked at her with concern. “A boost?”

“Yes, just make a step for me to put my foot in your hands and boost me up. I’ll be able to reach it.”

It would be just as easy to go get a chair, but he wasn’t going to argue with her. He wanted into that box as soon as possible. Crouching over, Carson laced his fingers together and made a steady perch for Georgia’s shoe.

“One, two, three,” she counted, hoisting herself up.

Carson held her up and patiently waited for news. “Can you reach it?”

“It’s just beyond me. Hold on. Wait... I’ve...almost...got it!” A moment later, it came tumbling off the top shelf along with several others. Georgia lost her balance and dropped from his hands, colliding with his chest.

“Whoa there,” he said, catching her before she could bounce off him and hit the floor. He’d instinctively wrapped his arms around her, holding her body tight against his own. The contact sent a surge of need through his veins, making him hyperaware of her breasts molded to his chest. Every muscle in his body tightened, his pulse quickening in his throat as he held her. “Are you okay?” he asked as he swallowed hard.

She looked up at him with momentarily dazed eyes. “Yeah... I mean yes. I wasn’t expecting it to all rain down at once.” She pressed gently but insistently against his chest. Carson relinquished his hold and she took a step back. He breathed in deeply to cool his arousal and tried to focus on their discovery instead.

Georgia looked down at the floor of the closet and the mess they’d made. There were several pairs of shoes scattered around the floor. The shoe box they’d sought out, the oldest one in the bunch with the peeling Hush Puppies label, had come open, too. As expected, there was not a thirty-year-old pair of shoes in it. Instead the paper contents had scattered everywhere, making the closet look as if a blizzard had struck.

They both crouched down and started sorting through the mess. Carson found a few pictures bundled together with a piece of twine. He untied them and sifted through the images. A couple were of him and his brothers when they were small. Things like Christmas morning and school pageants. There was one of his mother when she was very young, maybe even a teenager. After that were a few with his mother and some other people he didn’t recognize. He flipped the pictures over, but there was no writing on the back, no clue as to whether the other people were family or friends.

Setting them aside, he picked up some old newspaper clippings. Most of the pieces were about a missing girl named Amy Jo Turner. He scanned one of the articles looking for clues about his mother, but all it talked about was the circumstances surrounding the teenager’s disappearance and how the authorities presumed the worst. Her boat had been found drifting empty in a lake. A single shoe and the sweater she was last seen in had washed up a mile away about a week later.

The header was for a paper in Houston, Texas, and the dates were all in the early ’80s before Brooks and Graham were born. Their mother had never mentioned Houston, much less that she might have lived there at some point. Who was Amy Jo Turner? What did any of this have to do with his mother? It was important enough for her to keep the clippings for thirty years, but he didn’t understand why.

“Carson,” Georgia said, drawing his eye from the photos. “Look at this.”

He took a discolored envelope from her hand and unfolded the letter inside it. It was a handwritten letter addressed to his mother. Impatient, he skimmed through the words to the bottom where it was signed “Yours always, S.” Returning to the top, he read through it again, looking for clues to the identity of the writer that he might have missed the first time.

Dearest Cynthia,

You don’t know how hard it’s been to be away from you. I know that I’ve put myself in this position, and I can’t apologize enough. I seem to destroy everything that I love. You and the boys are probably better off without me. I hope that one day you can forgive me for what I’ve done to you. Know that no matter how much time has passed, my feelings for you will never fade. You have been, and always will be, the one true love of my life.

Yours always, S

That was totally and completely useless. All Carson got from it was an initial. He flipped over the envelope to look at the postmark. The date sent a sudden surge of adrenaline through him. It was a Chicago postmark dated seven months before he was born. That meant something. Could this lover, this “S,” actually be his father? Why couldn’t the man have written his name and made it easier on them all?

“What do you think?” Georgia asked tentatively after a few minutes.

Turning the letter over in his hand, Carson ran his gaze over the words one last time. “I think the person who wrote this letter is my father. It’s the biggest lead I’ve ever had and yet somehow, I don’t feel like I’m any closer to finding out his identity than I was before. What good is one initial?”

“It’s more than you had before,” she said in an upbeat tone.

Carson wasn’t feeling quite as optimistic. “Anything else interesting?” he asked.

Georgia shuffled through some more envelopes that were bound together with a rubber band. “These are old pay stubs. She’s kept them going back for years and years. Other than that, not much, sorry.”

Carson nodded and started putting everything back into the shoe box. “That’s okay. We found something. That should make my brothers happy. I’ll hand this over to them and let them analyze to their hearts’ content. Let’s pack up the last of these shoes and call it a day.”

They slowly gathered up all the bags and boxes and hauled them downstairs to the foyer. When he looked down at his watch, Carson realized he’d kept Georgia here far longer than he’d expected to. “Wow, it’s late. I’m sorry about that. I hijacked your whole Saturday.”

Georgia set down a bag of clothes and shrugged. “I would’ve spent it working anyway. I told you I’d help. I didn’t put a time limit on it.”

“Well, thank you. I got through that faster with you here. I might have given up long before I found that box. There’s still more to go through, but I think what I was looking for is right here,” he said, holding the old shoe box. “I’d like to make it up to you. May I buy you dinner?”

Georgia studied his face for a moment, her pert nose wrinkling as she thought it over. Finally she said, “How do you feel about Chinese takeout?”

* * *

“Can you pass me the carton of fried rice?”

Georgia accepted the container and used some chopsticks to shovel a pile out onto her plate beside her sesame chicken and spring roll. The Chinese place a block from her loft was the best in town. She ate there at least three times a week. Carson hadn’t seemed too convinced about her dinner suggestion at first. He must have wanted to take her someplace nice with linen napkins or something, but she’d insisted.

They drove back downtown to her place, then walked up the street together to procure a big paper bag full of yum and grab a six-pack of hard cider from the corner store. That was her idea, too. Lobster and expensive wine were nice, but honestly, nothing topped a couple of cartons of Jade Palace delicacies eaten around the coffee table.

“Wow,” Carson said after taking a bite of beef and broccoli. “This is really good.”

“I told you. It’s all amazing. And really, you have to eat it while you sit on the floor. It adds to the experience.”

Carson chuckled at her and returned to his food. She’d expected him to turn his nose up at eating on the floor around her coffee table, but he’d gone with it. She had a dining room table, but she almost never ate there. It was the place where she worked on her laptop, not ate.

“I lived with a family for a while that ate every meal around the coffee table,” Georgia explained. “They didn’t watch television or anything. It was just where they liked to be together. There were about six of us who would crowd around it and eat every night, talking and laughing. I really enjoyed that.”

“Those moments are the best ones,” Carson agreed. “There are some days when I’d give up every penny I’ve ever earned to be a kid again, watching old movies and eating popcorn with Aunt Gerty and Mom. My brothers and I get together and do it every few weeks, but it’s not the same.”

Georgia watched her boss’s face softly crumble into muted sadness as he stared down at his plate, shoveled some chicken into his mouth and chewed absentmindedly. She knew what it was like to miss people that you could never have back in your life. She’d always consoled herself with the idea that there was something better in her future. “You’ll make new moments,” she reassured him. “And one day when you have a family of your own, your children will treasure the little things you share with them just the same.”

“That feels like it won’t happen for decades. Honestly, just the idea of a family of my own seems impossible. I work so much. And even if I found the perfect woman, I’d feel like a fraud somehow. How can I be a father when I don’t know what it’s like to have one?”

“You’ll figure it out. Just start by being there and you’ll already have both our fathers beat. You’re a good guy, Carson. I have no doubt that it will come naturally to you.”

“What about you? You’re not going to have a family of your own while you spend all your free time at work.”

Georgia knew that. A part of her counted on it. What good was starting a relationship when it was just going to end? People always left her—life had proven that much—so she kept her relationships casual and avoided more disappointment. “Right now, the Newport Corporation and its employees are my family. The only family I’ve ever had. For now, that’s enough for me.”

“So you’re not dating anyone?” Carson asked.

Georgia’s gaze met his with curiosity. Was he really fishing for information or just being polite? “Haven’t you heard? Carson Newport is my lover.” She punctuated the sentence by popping the last bite of food into her mouth and putting her chopsticks across the plate in disgust. She could really put her foot in her mouth sometimes.

Carson chuckled and set aside his own utensils. Leaning onto his hand, he looked at her over the coffee table and said, “Can I ask you something?”

“Why not?” she said. They’d already covered their painful childhoods. What could be worse than that?

“Why did you tell Sutton I was your lover last night?”

That. That could be worse. “I, uh...” Georgia started, but couldn’t think of anything else to say. “It just popped into my head,” she said as she got up and carried a few dishes into the kitchen.

Carson didn’t let her escape. He followed her with the last of their dinner and set it on the counter beside her. “That’s it?” he asked as he leaned his hip against the counter. He was so near to her that her senses were flooded with the scent of his cologne and the heat of his body.

With a sigh, Georgia turned to face him. This wasn’t junior high; she needed to be a grown-up about this. The movement put her so close to him that they almost touched, but she felt childish taking a step back. “It was just wishful thinking,” she said, letting her gaze fall to the collar of his shirt.

Carson’s hand came to rest at her waist. “Georgia?” he asked softly.

She almost couldn’t answer with him touching her. The hem of her T-shirt just barely brushed the waistband of her jeans, and his fingers had come to rest in part on her bare skin. It was a simple touch, and yet it made her heart stutter in her chest and her breath catch in her throat. “Yes?”

He hooked his finger under her chin and tilted her head up until she had no choice but to look at him. She felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment and a touch of excitement as her gaze met his. His sea-green eyes searched her face as his lips tipped upward in a smile of encouragement. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

Georgia almost couldn’t hear him for the blood rushing in her ears. Had that kiss the other day been more than just excitement and champagne? “Why?”

Carson slid his hand around to her lower back, pulling her body flush against his own. “Because I lie in bed at night and think about that kiss we shared. I’ve fantasized about holding you in my arms again. I know that I shouldn’t because you work for me, but I can’t help it. And now that you’ve announced to half the company that we’re lovers and the world didn’t end... I don’t have any reason to hold back any longer.”

The longer he spoke, the more she fell under his spell. He was right. Their work relationship could survive this if they handled it like adults. They were attracted to each other. A little indulgence couldn’t hurt. It wouldn’t turn into anything serious and impact their business dealings. No one else seemed to care except Sutton.

“Then don’t,” she said, boldly meeting his gaze.

He took her at her word. Carson’s lips met hers without hesitation. His kiss was powerful yet not overwhelming. Georgia stood on tiptoe to wrap her arms around his neck and draw herself closer to him. When his tongue sought her out, she opened to him and melted into his touch.

She had thought the kiss at the hospital property was amazing, but that was nothing, nothing like this. This kiss was like a lightning bolt to her core. As his hands rubbed her back and his fingers pressed into her flesh, all she could think about was how badly she needed Carson.

“I want you,” she whispered against his lips.

Carson broke away from her mouth and trailed kisses along her jawline to the sensitive hollow of her neck. “You’re going to have me,” he said in a low growl at her ear.

His mouth returned to hers, hungrier than before. This was no longer just a simple kiss. It was officially foreplay. Without breaking the kiss, he walked them backward through the kitchen until her legs met with the dining room table. Georgia eased up onto it until she was sitting on it with Carson nestled snugly between her denim-clad thighs. She could feel his desire pressing against her, sending a shiver of need down her spine.

Carson slipped his hand beneath her shirt to stroke the smooth skin of her back and press her even closer to him. He gripped the hem and in one fluid move pulled her T-shirt up and over her head, throwing it to the floor. He took in the overflowing cups of her bra before he reached over his shoulder to tug his own shirt off.

His mouth moved quickly to her collarbone, traveling lower to taste her breasts. Georgia unfastened her bra and slipped it off her arms. She didn’t want anything else between them. This was the skin-on-skin contact she’d craved, and she wanted it now.

Carson groaned at the sight of her before he covered both her breasts with his hands. She felt her nipples tighten as his palms grazed over them. He moved his lips and tongue over her skin, tasting every inch of her exposed flesh before he drew one tight bud into his mouth.

“Carson!” she cried out as the sharp stab of pleasure shot straight to her inner core. She arched her back, pressing herself closer to him and to the touch she desperately craved.

“I can’t believe this is really happening,” she gasped as she looked up at the ceiling.

He planted a kiss on her sternum. “Believe it, beautiful.”

Georgia closed her eyes and gave in to the sensations he was eliciting from her body. Just when she thought she couldn’t take any more of his pleasurable torture, she felt his hand slide down her stomach to her jeans. She lifted her hips as he slid them and her panties down her legs.

As he stood, his eyes devoured her naked body. Reaching into his pants pocket, he pulled out a condom and set it on the table beside her. He kissed her again and let his hand wander over her bare thigh as he did. Carson dipped his fingers between her legs, brushing over her sensitive skin and sending a shiver through her whole body.

He did it again, harder, and this time Georgia cried aloud when he made contact. “Do you like that?” he asked.

“Oh yeah,” she said.

Encouraged by her response, he stroked again and again until she was panting and squirming at the edge of the table. He built up the release inside her so quickly, she could hardly believe it until it was almost too late.

“Stop,” she gasped, gripping his wrist with her hand. “Not yet. I want you inside me.”

“Very well,” Carson agreed. His gaze never left hers as he unfastened his pants and sheathed himself quickly. He settled back between her legs, and Georgia felt him press against her.

“Yesss,” she hissed as he slowly sank into her.

Carson hooked his hands around the backs of her knees and tugged her to the very edge of the table. If he let go, she’d fall, so she wrapped her legs around his rib cage and drew him in deeper. Judging by his sharp intake of breath, he wasn’t going anywhere.

He gripped her hips, holding her steady as he started to move in her. Every stroke set off fire bursts beneath her eyelids as they fluttered closed. Georgia arched her back and braced her hands on the table as their movements became more desperate.

How had she even gotten here? This morning, she’d gone into work with few expectations for the day. By nightfall, she was fulfilling her biggest fantasy with Carson and on the verge of an amazing orgasm. She could feel it building inside her. He coaxed the response from her body so easily, as though they were longtime lovers.

“So close,” she said between ragged breaths.

Carson seemed to know just what to do to push her over the edge. Rolling his hips forward, he thrust harder, striking her sensitive core with each advance. In seconds, Georgia was tensing up in anticipation of her undoing.

Then it hit. It radiated through her body like a nuclear blast. She clung to Carson’s shoulders as the shockwaves of pleasure made every muscle tremble and quiver. They rode though it together. With her final gasp, her head dropped back and her body went limp in his arms.

“Georgia,” he groaned, thrusting hard into her. He surged forward and gasped against the curve of her throat as he poured into her.

Georgia cradled him against her bare chest as he recovered. Thoughts swirled through her mind as the sexual haze faded away and she realized she’d just had sex with her boss on the dining room table.

Before she could say anything, Carson straightened up and wrapped his arms around her waist. He lifted her from the table and carried her through the living room. “Bedroom?” he asked.

“Upstairs,” she said.

“Of course it is.”

With a smile, he carried her upstairs to the master suite that overlooked the downstairs. He placed her gently on the bed and moved quickly to strip off his remaining clothes before crawling onto the mattress beside her. He tugged her back against him and wrapped his arms around her waist.

Georgia was surprised to find him ready for her so quickly. “Again?” she asked.

“Oh yes. And this time, it will be in a proper bed.”

“At least I can say I used the dining room table this year,” she said with a wicked grin.

Six

“You won’t believe what I’ve dug up!”

Brooks and Carson were talking business in Carson’s office when Graham charged in with his bold declaration. Carson had been waiting for this moment since he turned over the shoe box to his older brothers. It had been nearly a week since the discovery and his encounter with Georgia.

After giving Graham the box of paperwork, Carson had returned his focus to Georgia. Work had sucked up the majority of their time, as usual, but he was looking forward to the weekend and having another chance to meet up with her outside the office. At work, she was too tense. Despite the fact that he didn’t care if anyone knew they were seeing one another, she still wasn’t comfortable with it.

The contents of the shoe box had slipped his mind as the final paperwork on the hospital property went through and the finishing touches were put on the plans. Then Graham burst through his office door and it all came back to him.

Graham flopped into a chair at the table where Brooks and Carson were sitting. There was a light of excitement in his blue eyes, like he’d get when he had a breakthrough in a legal case. They’d given him the box because sorting through paperwork and finding clues was his specialty as a lawyer. Carson would’ve fallen asleep before he found anything important.

“Well?” Brooks prompted after several moments of silence.

“Well,” Graham began, “as I went through everything, I was surprised to find a few months’ worth of pay stubs from Elite Industries. Apparently Mom went to work there right before Brooks and I were born and stayed until seven months before she had you, Carson.”

Carson frowned. She’d never mentioned that, not once in all those years. Not even when they complained about their competitor around the dinner table. “I thought she worked as a waitress at the café with Gerty.”

“She did until she was in the third trimester of her pregnancy with Brooks and me. She went back to the diner again after her time with Elite. It looks as though she was laid off from her job after six months, although I don’t know why. The paperwork I found showed she was given a very generous severance package and a glowing letter of reference from her boss when she left. Guess who she worked for at Elite? Starts with an S...”

Carson’s stomach started to ache. He didn’t really want to know where this was headed.

“Sutton Winchester?” Brooks guessed with as much dread in his voice as Carson was feeling.

“Yep,” Graham confirmed, nearly boiling over with excitement. “She was his executive assistant.”

Carson pushed up from his chair and shook his head. “I need a drink. Anyone else?”

“I think we all could use one,” Brooks said.

Carson busied himself pouring them each a finger of scotch over ice. He carried the three short tumblers to the conference table and flopped back down into his chair with a sigh of disgust. Without waiting on his brothers, he took a large sip of the scotch, savoring the burn as it rushed down his throat into his empty stomach.

“So Mom was his executive assistant? That’s a big leap from a coffee shop waitress,” Brooks noted with a frown as he picked up his own glass.

It was. How could she have possibly qualified for a job like that? Knowing what Carson knew about Sutton, the answer wasn’t one he wanted to consider. Would his mother really have accepted that sleaze’s secretarial position when it came with sexual duties? Especially when she was seven months pregnant with twins? Or was she already his lover long before she went to work for him?

“Carson?” Graham said with concern in his voice. “Are you okay? You look a little pale.”

He understood why. He could feel the blood draining from his face as the reality of their past solidified in his mind. He hadn’t had enough scotch to handle this. No wonder their mother didn’t want them to know the truth. No wonder she said their father was a horrible person. He was. Still, he had trouble believing it could be true. It just couldn’t be. And yet...he knew the truth almost instinctively.

“He’s our father,” Carson blurted out.

Brooks narrowed his gaze suspiciously at Carson. “How can you be so sure?”

“The letter I showed you guys the other day from the box. It talks about hurting her, missing her terribly and how sorry he was about everything that happened. How she and the boys would be better off without him. It’s signed ‘S.’”

“That’s still a bit of a stretch,” Brooks argued. “There are a lot of people with a first name starting with S in the world.”

“Yes, but we’re talking about Sutton Winchester here. I don’t know if I told both of you, but when he demanded that Georgia meet with him, he offered her quite a sweet deal to come work for Elite Industries. The job came with a million-dollar signing bonus and the role of his mistress.”

Graham’s mouth dropped open, his glass of scotch hanging in his hand midair. “Are you serious? That old dog!”

Carson nodded gravely. “If that’s how Sutton recruits employees and lovers, it all makes sense. Say he met Mom at the diner and they started an affair. When she ends up pregnant, he offers her the job as his assistant so she would have medical benefits and maternity leave. Being on her feet all day carrying twins had to be rough on her. I can see why she would accept the offer, especially if she was put on bed rest or something until you two were born.”

Brooks looked at him thoughtfully. “If he went to all that trouble when she was pregnant the first time, why would he fire her when she was pregnant with you? It seems inconsistent.”

Carson shook his head. “I don’t know why. But I think it all goes back to the letter I found in the shoe box. It sounds to me like it might not have been Sutton’s decision to let her go.”

“Well,” Graham said, “he was married at the time. Do you think his wife found out about his family on the side and made him put an end to all of it?”

Brooks chuckled. “Have you met Celeste Van Houten? She’s one icy-cold woman. I wouldn’t put it past her.”

“We need proof,” Graham argued and ran his fingers through his blond hair. “If we want to know the truth, once and for all, we’ll need a paternity test. I doubt the old man will just go along with it to be nice, especially when it would mean we’d be eligible for a chunk of that multimillion-dollar estate of his when he dies. There’s no way I can compel a paternity test just on the basis of our mother having been his employee at the time of Carson’s conception. We need something that shows they actually had an affair.”

“Who would know aside from the two of them?” Brooks asked.

“That’s a tough one. Sutton wasn’t likely to broadcast what he was doing, even though it looks obvious to us.”

“Someone would have to know,” Carson insisted. “Maybe someone who worked for Sutton at the time at his office or his house.”

“That’s someplace we can start,” Graham agreed. “I’ll do some more digging and see what I can find. Maybe we’ll luck out and find someone who still remembers that far back. It’s been thirty years.”

Carson knew Graham was trying to be upbeat, but he could hear the discouragement in his voice. The odds of finding someone who knew about their mother’s relationship were pretty low. Most of Sutton’s employees were probably paid handsomely to keep their mouths shut. But if anyone could track them down, Graham could.

“It’s more than we knew a week ago,” Brooks said.

“That’s true,” Carson agreed. “I just wonder what the point of it would be.”

“What do you mean?” Graham asked.

“Well, we take the paternity test and we find out he’s our father. Then what? I don’t see this ending well.”

“It won’t, at least not for Sutton,” Brooks said. “We’re going to make him pay for what he did to our mother and to us.”

“How?” Carson asked. “The man has no conscience.”

“That’s true,” Brooks agreed. “But he does have a multimillion-dollar estate and we would be rightful heirs to it as well as his three legitimate daughters with Celeste. We go in and demand our share as his penance. I don’t care if we blow it all in a year, as long as we pry it from his cold, dead hands.”

“Wouldn’t most of the estate go to his wife?”

Graham shook his head. “Celeste is his ex-wife now and has been for a couple years. Her lawyers have already seized her share. The rest of his estate most likely goes to his daughters. No matter what, Sutton can change the will to include us if he wants to. We just have to give him a little encouragement.”

Carson tried not to frown. It all made sense. Sutton deserved it. He just didn’t like it. “Okay,” he said. “We find a way to push for a test, then go after the estate. There’s just one downside to all of this.”

“What’s that?”

“If we’re right, it means that Sutton Winchester is our father. Mom warned us up one side and down the other to stay away from our father. She said he was dangerous and we were far better off without him in our lives. I always thought that maybe she had exaggerated and that when we met him, we’d find he was a better man that we expected. But if it is Sutton... I worry that our worst fears about our father are about to come true.”

* * *

“Georgia?”

Georgia looked up from her barely touched dinner and found Carson looking at her with concern. She was lost in her thoughts and he’d caught her not listening.

After fantasizing about time alone with Carson for so long, she was letting it slip through her fingers. Tonight he’d insisted on taking her out to dinner someplace nice. He was wearing her favorite navy pinstripe suit. For some reason, that color against his tan skin made his green eyes pop. He was looking so handsome and yet she could barely focus on a word he said.

“Yes?”

“Are you okay? You seem...distracted tonight. Are you having second thoughts about the two of us being seen together publicly?”

Georgia shook her head. She had a lot on her mind, but surprisingly, the budding romance between her and Carson was not one of her worries. “No, no. I’m sorry. I’ve just got a lot on my mind tonight.”

Carson nodded and picked up his wine. His plate was empty and the server came by to take it away. Georgia let him take hers, as well. She didn’t have much of an appetite and hadn’t since she’d gotten that phone call. The universe had basically ground to a halt at that moment, but no one seemed to notice but her.

“Want to talk about it? I’m all ears,” he said, taking a sip of his wine.

She was almost afraid to talk about what had happened out loud, but she did want to share it with someone. Carson was the only person she’d told about her past, and he might really understand what was going on and how important it was. The only other person she could tell was her former caseworker, Sheila. She’d avoided that call, however. Somehow she worried Sheila wouldn’t think this was a great development.

“Okay,” she agreed. “Well, yesterday evening, I got a phone call. From my mother.”

Carson perked up in his seat. “Your mother? Really?”

Georgia nodded. “I could hardly believe it myself. I’ve gone twenty-six years without her in my life, and then all of a sudden, she calls me out of nowhere. She said she saw my news conference about the hospital last week and hunted down my number to get in contact with me.”

“That must’ve been quite a shock.”

“You have no idea.” She’d actually been in tears. She held it together as long as she could, but once she hung up the phone, she’d bawled like a baby for twenty minutes. It was so surreal to pick up the phone and hear the voice of someone claiming to be her mother. She didn’t even remember what her mother’s voice sounded like, but it didn’t take long to figure out she really was talking to Misty Lynn Adams.

“What did she say?”

“Well, it wasn’t a long call, but she said she was getting her life back together and wanted to reconnect with me. I get the feeling this is part of a recovery program she’s in to stay clean and sober. She wants to come to Chicago and see me.”

“Wow,” Carson said, reaching across the table to take Georgia’s hand. “That’s really great. How do you feel about all this?”

That was the difference between telling this story to someone who grew up with both parents and telling someone like Carson, who knew what it was like to live without knowing your past. Anyone else would’ve asked if she was excited and happy. Those weren’t quite the words for it. Cautious was more like it. Hopeful, but not too much. Being hurt as many times as she had made her loath to jump in with both feet, but she was going to try.

“It’s a mix of emotions,” she admitted. “I want to see her and ask her some questions, but I don’t think we’re about to be best friends or anything. That’s going to take time, if it’s even possible. My mother is pretty messed up. I don’t know how long she’s had her act together, but if she relapses, I don’t want to get caught in it.”

Carson nodded sympathetically. “I understand. You want to know your family and have that relationship, but there’s a reason why they haven’t been in your life. Sometimes you wonder if it isn’t for the best.”

“Exactly. But I’m going to meet with her. I sent her some money to take the bus here from Detroit and she’s going to stay with me for a few days. We’ll see what happens.”

At her words, Carson frowned. He was silent as he watched her face for a moment. “Georgia,” he said at last, “is giving her money a good idea? And letting her stay with you? She’s a virtual stranger.”

She tugged her hand from his and buried it under the table. “I’ve thought of all that. It was only a hundred dollars for the bus ticket. If she blows it on drugs and never shows up, it was a relatively cheap lesson learned. But I have to have a little bit of faith if this is going to work.”

“But staying with you,” he pressed. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

What little enthusiasm Georgia had about this development with her mother was starting to wane in the face of Carson’s skepticism. What did he want Georgia to do? Hide the good silver? She didn’t have good silver. Most of her money had gone into her loft and that was one thing her mother couldn’t take, no matter how hard she tried.

“What are my choices? If she can’t afford a bus ticket, she can’t afford a hotel. I’d have to pay for it, too. It’s only for a few days, Carson. If I feel remotely uncomfortable having her there, or leaving her there alone, I’ll get her a room somewhere, okay?”

Carson flinched at her sharp, defensive tone. “Listen, I’m sorry to be such a pessimist, Georgia, but I guess it’s just a by-product of how I grew up. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I won’t,” she insisted. “I know I have to tread carefully with Misty, but I could use your support. I’ve encouraged your search for your father, and I’d really appreciate your support as I look into my own past.”

Carson got up from his side of the restaurant booth and sat down beside her. He wrapped her in a hug and kissed her sweetly on the cheek. “I support you one hundred percent. Don’t ever doubt that. I’m just worried about you, is all.”

Georgia eased into his embrace, letting her anxieties fade away in his arms. She supposed he was right to feel cautious about the whole thing. There wasn’t much point in jumping to Misty’s defense when she knew nothing about her. “Well, thank you. I’m not used to anyone worrying about me.”

“You’d better get used to it, although I’ll admit I could be just a little on edge after what Graham found. My mom had warned us that our father was a terrible person, but I never could’ve imagined that it could be Sutton Winchester. Of all the men in Chicago...”

Georgia had been quite stunned to hear the news herself. After he told her the rest of the story, it had made sense. Carson had Sutton’s mischievous green eyes, but she didn’t want to tell him that. At this point, she got the feeling he didn’t want to have anything in common with Sutton, especially common genetics. “What are you guys going to do?”

“Graham is going to try to track down someone who might remember the two of them being together back then. If we’re successful, we’ll push for a paternity test to know once and for all.”

Georgia nodded absently as he described their plans, but she could tell the brothers had little idea what they would do with the truth. “So if he is your father, then what?”

As she predicted, Carson frowned slightly. “I don’t know. I doubt we’ll be invited over for Thanksgiving dinner with his other children. If we play any role in his life, we’re going to have to fight for it. I think Graham and Brooks are more willing to battle than I am. I just keep thinking of my mother’s warnings. She kept him out of our lives for a reason. All things considered, do you really want him in my life?”

Georgia nodded. “I know I’m taking a risk by letting my mother come see me. It might work out, or she might be the same junkie who abandoned me. I’ve done pretty well without her. At the same time, I won’t let myself give up on her. With your parents, you stand there and let yourself get kicked in the teeth again and again in the hope that they will finally stand up and be the people you always dreamed of. That child in you is always craving that love and acceptance you didn’t get. If you give up on that, what’s left?”

“Everything else,” Carson argued. “Your mother was a broke, messed up kid who had no business taking care of a baby, but Sutton is the richest guy in Chicago. What’s his excuse? Sutton knows that we’re his kids. He hasn’t once sought us out in all these years. No birthday cards, no child support, not even a little lenience in business dealings. Why would I want a man like that in my life?”

“You won’t know for sure until you get to know him better.”

“I’ve never had a father, Georgia. I don’t know whether it’s better to have a lousy one and know the truth than to never have one and always wonder.”

“I understand. With the truth come things you may not want to know. I’m giving my mother this chance, but considering my father impregnated a teenage runaway with a drug problem, I think I’ll go with never knowing him. That way I can keep the fantasy father in my mind. I’d rather not know than find out he was her customer, or her drug dealer, or that he raped a young girl with no one to turn to.”

Carson carefully considered her words and then took the final sip of his wine. “Well, in the end I don’t get to make the decision, because there’s more than just me in the equation. My brothers want to see this through no matter what. Like it or not, I will know if Sutton is my father. As for what comes after that... I guess that all depends on dear old Dad.”

Georgia nodded and finished her drink. They were both in limbo when it came to their parents. She hated that feeling. For years, as she bounced from one foster home to the next, she had both hoped and worried that her mother would get her act together and take her home for good.

She had been excited about her mother seeking her out. She had made the first step, which is something Georgia had been adamant about. It wouldn’t have taken much to track down her mother, but she didn’t want to. Knowing that her mother had gone to the trouble of finding her felt good. Still, she was scared. And after talking to Carson about Misty’s visit, she wasn’t feeling as optimistic.

Georgia could already tell that she would spend all night lying in bed worrying about this. Her mother was due to arrive on Friday, so that meant days of anxiety until she knew for certain. She needed a distraction. Something to keep her mind off the situation. Work wouldn’t do it, but leaning into Carson’s chest and resting her head on his shoulder gave her a good idea of what might.

“Are you ready to get out of here?” she asked.

“I thought you wanted dessert.”

Reaching up to caress his stubble-covered jaw, Georgia turned his head until his full lips met with hers. She drank him in, letting her tongue curl along his as she gave a soft moan of approval. A sizzle of awareness traveled down her spine, making her suddenly warm and flush in the previously cold restaurant. All thoughts of Misty and Sutton faded away with his touch.

She was right. Losing herself in a night of passion with Carson was just what she needed. What they both needed. “I do,” she said as she pulled away and looked into his eyes with wicked intention.

“Then let’s go.” Carson smiled wide and scanned the bill the waiter had brought. He tossed some cash on the table for it and slipped out of the booth with Georgia’s hand in his own.

Seven

“Rebecca, what is this three o’clock on my calendar today?” Carson waited impatiently for his assistant to answer him as he studied his computer screen. He hadn’t made this appointment, and he had no real clue who the woman was that he and his brothers were scheduled to meet in just a few minutes’ time.

Rebecca appeared in the doorway and shook her head. “I’m not really sure, sir. Graham called this morning and told me to add it. Did he not speak with you?”

No, he had not. But Carson didn’t want to worry Rebecca. “He may have and I just forgot. Thank you.”

Rebecca slipped back out of his office, leaving him to ponder the appointment. He didn’t have long to wait. Brooks showed up a few minutes later, eyeing his smart phone with dismay. “What’s the three o’clock about?”

Carson shrugged. “It’s Graham’s doing. He didn’t tell you, either?”

“Why would he do something like that?” Brooks flopped down into Carson’s guest chair and frowned. “Who is Tammy Ross? I’ve never heard of her.”

“She is Sutton Winchester’s retired housekeeper.” Graham appeared in the doorway with a smug grin on his face.

That was the last thing Carson expected. Why would they be meeting with Sutton’s old housekeeper, unless... “Does she know anything about Sutton’s relationship with our mother?”

Graham strolled at an obnoxiously slow pace across the Moroccan rug and sat down in the other chair. “She does.”

“Why not just tell us what she had to say? Why bring her here?”

“Because,” Graham insisted, “she wanted to talk to all of us in person. Apparently she feels bad about how it all went down back then. She’s a sentimental older lady who knew and liked our mother. Indulge her a little.”

“Mr. Newport,” Carson’s assistant chirped through the speaker phone. “Mrs. Ross is here to see you.”

“Right on time,” Graham said with a smile. He got up from his chair and went to the reception area. A moment later he returned with a petite older woman with short gray hair and a pleasant smile.

Carson and Brooks both stood to greet their guest. “Mrs. Ross,” Carson said, reaching out to shake her hand. “Please have a seat.” He gestured over to his conference table and followed the others there as they took their seats.

“Thank you for seeing me today. When Graham contacted me and I realized I was talking to one of the twins all grown up—” the woman’s dark eyes grew a little misty “—well, I knew I had to tell you everything I knew. My loyalty to the Winchesters ended with the paychecks.”

“I contacted the agency that Sutton hires household staff through,” Graham explained. “I was able to talk to someone and they passed along my number to her.”

“I read about your mother’s passing in the paper,” she said. “It was hard to believe that the vibrant young girl I knew was gone. Or that the babies I remembered were full-grown men.”

“How did you know about our mother?” Brooks asked.

“At first I knew Cynthia as Mr. Sutton’s secretary. She would call the house from time to time relaying his requests for dinner or telling me what shirt he wanted starched for the next day. She was sweet and we chatted some. She was very excited about her pregnancy, and having two children of my own, I relayed plenty of advice. After the twins—you—were born, I volunteered to babysit a couple of nights while she went out. I didn’t realize at the time who she was going out with or whose babies I was watching.”

“So our mother was seeing Sutton on the side?”

“Yes. From what I gathered, they were together long before she started working at Elite Industries. It wasn’t surprising, though. Your mother was a lovely young woman, just the kind Sutton liked. I think his marriage to Celeste Van Houten was more business than pleasure, so he was always on the prowl for...extracurricular entertainment.”

Carson’s stomach ached to think of his mother as just one in a line of women who had marched in and out of Sutton Winchester’s bedroom. She deserved better. A real love with a man who wanted to marry her and give her all the happiness in the world. Instead she’d raised his three children alone on a waitress’s salary. Carson wasn’t sure what their mother would’ve done without Gerty’s help.

“Finding out about you was the biggest shock,” Mrs. Ross said, looking at Carson. “Your mother must have left the company so soon into her second pregnancy that I didn’t even know she was expecting again. I’m sure that was part of Mr. Winchester’s plan. Mrs. Winchester was already beside herself over the relationship. I don’t think she knew about the twins, and I’m sure Mr. Winchester didn’t want anyone to know about you, either.”

“If he was so secretive, how do you know about all of this?”

The older woman smiled. “There are different kinds of rich people and in my day, I worked for them all. The Winchesters are the kind of rich people who see their employees as a lesser species. Sometimes Mrs. Winchester pretended I wasn’t even there. Or maybe she wasn’t pretending. Maybe I just wasn’t important enough for her notice. It was annoying, but sometimes it was useful.

“I remember one night Mr. and Mrs. Winchester really got into a row. She was pregnant with Nora at the time. Mrs. Winchester didn’t yell much, but it was a glass-breaking night. They went into the bedroom and closed the door, but it didn’t matter. You could hear them yelling from anywhere in the house, and the house is a mansion. I was in the hallway, sweeping up a glass vase she’d thrown at him, when I heard her mention Cynthia’s name. She told him she wasn’t just going to sit by and let him parade around with his secretary while she was suffering through another difficult pregnancy to have his child. She threatened to divorce him and clean him out. She told him he’d never see Eve or the new baby again. I had no doubt she could do it. Her brother was one of the most ruthless divorce attorneys in Illinois. She told him he would end it, or she would end him.

“It was then I realized that the twins had to be his. I couldn’t imagine Mr. Winchester taking care of a woman with another man’s children the way he did. A week later, a lady called the house claiming to be Mr. Winchester’s secretary. When I asked what happened to Cynthia, she told me that she was no longer with the company. That’s the last I heard of her, or of any of you. She disappeared after that.”

“You can’t be certain that I’m Sutton’s child, though,” Carson said. “She could’ve gotten pregnant by someone else after she left Elite.”

The older woman reached across the table and patted his hand. “You are Sutton Winchester’s boy, no doubt in my mind. Your brothers take more after Cynthia, but you, you’re the spitting image of your father when he was younger.”

Carson swallowed hard. He’d always known he looked different from his brothers and likely took after their father while they favored their mother, but he didn’t want to be the spitting anything of Sutton Winchester.

“Mrs. Ross, would you be willing to testify to a judge about what you told us today?” Graham asked. “Odds are that it won’t be necessary for us to compel the paternity test, but the judge might ask to speak with you.”

“Absolutely. I think I’ve stayed quiet about all this long enough. Mr. Winchester needs to do right by his children. It’s never too late for that.”

“Thank you for coming to speak with us today,” Carson said, shaking the woman’s hand.

She took it, standing up and clutching her bag to her side. “It was no trouble. I’ve wondered for years what happened to Cynthia’s babies. Now I know. She would be so proud of you three. I’m sure of it.”

Graham escorted the woman out of the office, returning about ten minutes later. “So? What do you think?”

“I think you’re the luckiest bastard in the world,” Brooks said. “I can’t fathom how you managed to find her.”

“Luck has nothing to do with it,” he said, dropping into a chair. “Law school is brutal, but it teaches you how to find the information you need to sway the court in your favor. My research skills are second to none. It wasn’t easy, I assure you. I called every damn employment agency in town before I struck gold. If that hadn’t worked, I was going to try to smooth-talk his accountant into finding past employment records. Thankfully, this worked.”

“So now what?” Carson asked.

“I’ve got the paperwork all ready to submit to the judge,” Graham said. “Once he issues the order for the paternity test, we’ll deliver it to Sutton. When we’re certain he’s our father, we’ll make our bid to be included in his estate, sit back and watch the fireworks.”

* * *

“I knew you’d be back.”

Georgia ignored Sutton’s smug expression. It was far more unnerving to look him in the eye now that she recognized that those green eyes were so much like Carson’s. Knowing this man was likely Carson’s father was hard to stomach, especially when his gaze raked over her with poorly masked desire.

“Does Newport know you’re here?”

“No, he doesn’t.” Georgia hadn’t told him because she knew Carson wouldn’t let her do this. She wanted to keep the door open to Sutton. Not because she wanted the job, but because she wanted information. If Carson and his brothers ended up taking Sutton to court, anything she came up with could be helpful. And if she could get some money for the hospital from him, more the better.

“So have you come to your senses and decided to accept my offer? Finally figure out Newport isn’t man enough for you?”

She tried not to roll her eyes. She needed to play along, at least for a little bit, if she was going to get what she wanted out of this meeting. Georgia knew it was dangerous to waltz back into the lion’s den, but it was the only way to get the information she was after.

“A girl has to keep her options open.”

Sutton’s chuckle was punctuated with a long bout of coughing. He pulled the pocket square from his suit coat and held it over his mouth. She couldn’t help but notice as she watched him that he didn’t look well. His suit was hanging off him. His face was slightly sunken in, emphasizing his cheekbones and the gray circles beneath his eyes. He seemed to have deteriorated pretty rapidly since she saw him at the party about a week ago.

When he finished coughing and pulled the handkerchief away, Georgia noticed a few small droplets of blood on the fabric. Sutton was seriously ill. He didn’t need a mistress. He needed a doctor.

“I think I could use a drink.” Sutton cleared his throat, pushed up from his desk and walked over to the minibar in the corner. “Can I get you something?”

“Sure.” Standing up, she followed Sutton to where he was dropping ice cubes into two crystal tumblers. She leaned against the edge of the conference room table and watched as he poured himself some scotch, and then made her a vodka gimlet. It was her favorite drink, although she had no idea how he could possibly know that.

Finally he held up her glass to her. “Here you go, my dear. What shall we drink to?”

Georgia eyed the glass until she came up with an answer. “To keeping our options open,” she said with a smile.

“Indeed.” He clinked his crystal against hers and took a sip. He watched her as she drank some of her drink, then set his glass down on the edge of the table beside her. “So what is it that I can do for you today, Georgia? Are you ready to accept my generous offer?”

“Not yet.”

“Well, ‘not yet’ is better than the no you gave me last time. I’m making progress.”

Georgia was willing to let a sickly old man believe that if it made him feel better. “It’s a woman’s prerogative to change her mind.”

“Never were truer words spoken.” Sutton took a step toward her, crowding into her space and leaning close. “What would convince you to accept my offer, Georgia? Just name it. More money? Jewelry? A nice high-rise penthouse? I can give you anything you want if you’ll give yourself to me right now.” His hand rested on her thigh as he gazed intently at her. She got the feeling he meant it. But there was no way she would accept.

“I’ll have to think on that,” she said as she picked up his hand and moved it off her leg. “But there are some things you could do that might sway my final decision.”

“A negotiator, eh? I’ll bite.” He scooped up his drink, although he didn’t move away. They were nearly touching. “Like what?”

“I’d like Elite Industries to make a donation to the Newport children’s hospital project.”

He narrowed his gaze at her as he sipped his scotch. “And why would I want to do that?”

“Well, I happen to know that you don’t have a public relations director at the moment. If I were heading up your PR department, that is exactly what I would recommend. People know that you were competing for the land where the hospital will be built. Some may think that Elite should’ve backed down on the condo project to support a worthy cause. I think donating to the hospital would be good damage control.”

“I don’t need damage control. I run this town.”

“That may be,” she continued, “but you wouldn’t want to look like a poor sport for losing to Newport, would you? I know you’re not used to losing, so you might not know how to handle it.”

“Losing...” Sutton muttered. “If I had wanted that land, I would’ve gotten it.”

He could tell himself that, but he’d passed along his stubbornness to Carson along with his eyes. “Sure you would’ve,” she agreed. “But what better way to bless the project you let happen than by supporting it? Come on, Sutton. Just cut a check.”

Sutton leaned into her, forcing Georgia to lean farther back on the conference room table. “And aside from good PR, what will my check get me?”

Georgia placed a hand on Sutton’s chest to keep him from moving any closer. “That depends on how big the check is.”

A wide grin spread across the older man’s face, suddenly reminding her so much of Carson that her chest ached. “You’re a feisty one. I love that about you. You win. I’ll write a check to Newport for whatever you want.”

“Write it for however much you think I’m worth.”

“Mr. Winchester? Georgia?” A sharp, startled voice sounded from the other side of the office.

Georgia snapped her head to the door of Sutton’s office, where Graham was standing. His face showed a mix of surprise and anger as he looked at the two of them together. Hovering over his shoulder was Eve Winchester, the oldest of Sutton’s three daughters and corporate heir apparent. Both of them looked quite stunned to walk in on Sutton nearly manhandling Georgia.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” Eve said. “I couldn’t stop him.”

Georgia pressed harder against Sutton’s chest and he finally backed away. With a sigh, he turned away from Georgia to address the interlopers in his office. “It’s no problem. I’ve got Newport employees all over the place today. Come in, come in.”

Sutton strolled back over to his desk, and Georgia tried to pull herself back together. She was hardly misbehaving, but she didn’t like the look on Graham’s face. He obviously thought he was walking in on something. Georgia avoided his gaze, holding her position near the conference room table.

“What can I do for you, Graham? Or are you Brooks? Damn it, I can never tell you two apart.”

That made Graham angry. His jaw tightened and the edges of his ears reddened as he stared Sutton down. “You’d think that a father would be able to tell his own children apart.”

Sutton barely reacted to the accusation. He leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers together over his stomach. “A father would, but I’m not sure I like what you’re implying, Mr. Newport.”

“I’m implying nothing. I’m saying it straight up, Dad.”

Georgia held her breath as she watched the two men speak. The tension in the room was thick. Her gaze drifted over to Eve. She’d followed Graham into the office and seemed to be the only one in the room stunned by Graham’s accusations. And if Georgia was reading her correctly, Eve looked a bit disappointed, too. She supposed any red-blooded woman in Chicago would feel the same way if she found out the handsome and rich Newport boys were her half brothers.

“I am not your father.” Sutton didn’t hesitate to shoot down Graham.

“Are you denying you had a relationship with my mother?”

Sutton pursed his lips, considering his response. “I did have a relationship with Cynthia. She was a lovely woman. You take after her, I have to admit. But I am not your father. Your mother was already pregnant when we met.”

Graham laid an envelope on Sutton’s desk. “We’ll see about that.”

Sutton opened the envelope and pulled out the paperwork inside. “A subpoena for a paternity test? That’s cute. Very well,” he said, setting the paperwork aside. “I will comply with the court order. But don’t get cocky thinking you’ve won some kind of battle here, Graham. In the end, you won’t like the results, because I am not your father.”

Graham started down Sutton without flinching. “I wouldn’t expect a man like you to say anything else.”

Graham turned his attention to Georgia on the far side of the room. “Do you need a ride back to the office?” His tone was pointed, but she wasn’t surprised.

“I do.” She’d gotten what she wanted out of Sutton for now. Staying behind after this incident would be nothing but awkward for them both.

Moving quickly, she scooped up her big black purse and slung it over her shoulder. Not wanting to let things unravel with Sutton, she gave him one last smile before she followed Graham out of the office. “Can you have that check for the hospital sent by courier over to our offices?”

The irritation faded from Sutton’s eyes as he focused on her again. “I’ll have it taken care of.”

Turning, she caught Graham and Eve sharing a meaningful look. Interesting. She brushed past a stunned Eve on her way to meet Graham in the doorway. They were halfway to his car before he said anything to her.

“What was that about?” he asked.

She didn’t like the way he was addressing her, as though he’d caught her beneath Sutton’s desk. “I’ve got a better question,” she said, deflecting the discussion. “What exactly was that just now between you and Eve Winchester?”

Graham’s jaw stiffened, but he didn’t turn to look at her. Instead he held open the door to the parking garage. “That was nothing.”

Georgia laughed. She didn’t work much with Graham since he spent so much time at his law firm, but she knew enough to know he was lying. “Tell that to someone who believes you. Eve was watching you like a tasty meal. At least until you started calling her father ‘Dad.’”

Graham took a deep breath and pulled his keys from his pocket. “If Sutton is our father, then it doesn’t matter what you think you saw. This isn’t a V.C. Andrews novel. The odds are that Eve is my half sister, so end of story.”

He opened the car door and Georgia slipped inside. Once he got in and started the engine, she said, “Sutton seemed pretty adamant that he wasn’t your father.”

“Yes, well, did you expect otherwise?”

Georgia hesitated for a moment. That didn’t sound like Sutton’s style. Maybe he would lie by omission, but the way he insisted he wasn’t Graham’s father made her believe him. Her interactions with him had always been very direct. “I don’t know. I’ve never known him to lie. He usually gets his way without stooping to deceit.”

“You know him so well now, do you? How much time have you been spending here with him behind Carson’s back? He told me about the dirty old man’s offer. Have you changed your mind about accepting it?”

“No, I haven’t. We were talking business.” She refused to elaborate any further. It was none of his damn business what she was doing there anyway.

“I bet,” he snapped before shooting into traffic and tearing down the street. “Let me give you a word of advice about Carson. He doesn’t get involved with women very often. His last real relationship ended when the woman dumped him for a richer guy.”

Georgia didn’t know that. They hadn’t really discussed their dating history in depth. “Really?”

“Yes. He and Candy were even engaged when she decided to run off with some billionaire tech innovator. It was really hard on him.”

“Well, Carson and I are just—”

“I don’t care what you two are or aren’t,” Graham interrupted. “I just want you to know so you think long and hard about putting Carson through the same thing again.”

Georgia bit her tongue. She was about as far from leaving Carson for Sutton as she was from leaving him for Prince Harry. She wasn’t going to argue that point with Graham. She’d tell Carson what she was up to, but she didn’t think Graham could be trusted. Judging by the body language between him and Eve, he was compromised. Especially if Sutton wasn’t their father.

If either of them was going to be sleeping with the enemy, it was Graham.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.