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“I’m not going anywhere. Is the baby mine?”
For one heartbeat, she seriously considered lying, but just as quickly rejected it. Apart from the fact she was a terrible liar, she wouldn’t. Not about something this important. So with fear of the unknown fluttering in her belly, she slowly nodded. “Yes, Cal. It’s yours.”
He paused. “A paternity test will prove it.”
“Yes,” she said firmly. “It will.”
His cold mask cracked, morphing into an expression so raw that she had to take a step back from the intensity.
He strode to her, the distance between them evaporating into an excruciating invasion of her comfort zone. He was Cal Prescott, and he was there, right there and amazingly, the urge to touch him, to smell him, thundered through her senses. She wanted to melt right into his very bones until she couldn’t tell where she finished and he started.
Anger poured off him, slamming into her, breaking through her thoughts. Then with a soft curse he abruptly whirled, shoving a hand through his hair, leaving short, tufted peaks in its wake. Hair that emphasised his ruthlessly angular face and framed those rich brown eyes to perfection. It was a face so achingly distant, one that screamed control and power in every muscle, every line.
“What do you want?” He demanded now, pinning her with sharp intensity.
Instinctively she placed a hand over her belly, which only succeeded in drawing his attention. Abruptly she shoved her hands back in her jean pockets. “From you? Nothing.”
His gaze narrowed. “Don’t lie to me. Not now.”
“I’m not lying! I didn’t even know I was pregnant until a week ago.”
“So that’s the way you’re going to play it.” When he crossed his arms, utterly convinced of her guilt, her frustration ratcheted up.
“I don’t care what you think,” she hissed back. “It’s none of your business!”
He stilled, staring at her, while all around them there was silence, as if the earth itself was awaiting his comeback with bated breath.
Then he smiled. The sheer triumph in that one simple action sent a chilling wave over her skin. It was the smile of a man used to getting his own way, a man who made thousands of million-dollar deals and steamrolled over his detractors. It was a smile that told her he’d won.
Won what?
“You being pregnant with my child is none of my business?” he said now, arching one derisive brow up. “On the contrary. I’ve given this a lot of thought. That child needs a father. We’ll get married.”
Deep below the surface, the bombshell exploded, sending shock waves through Ava’s insides. Oblivious to the aftermath, Cal flipped open a sleek black mobile phone and dialled. “I’ve already applied for a wedding licence and my solicitor will finalise the prenup. I dislike large engagement parties so we’ll skip that, of course. But I have booked dinner at Tetsuya’s with my parents tomorrow night, so—”
Ava finally found her voice. “What are you doing?”
“Hmm?”
“Are you crazy?”
“What?” When he put his hand over the mouthpiece and glared at her like she was some sort of annoying irritation, Ava saw red.
“You can’t force me to marry you!” She jammed her hands on her hips and shouted the last word, anger surging up to scorch her throat.
Slowly, Cal hung up, forcing restraint into every muscle of his body. Her hands fisted on her hips, hips that curved into the worn denim and came this close to being indecent. His eyes travelled upwards, past the ratty shirt that skimmed her waist, the rolled-up sleeves over tanned forearms, to the low neckline that revealed a smooth expanse of throat.
He finally fixed on her face, a face he’d seen in his dreams, deep in the throes of passion. Her silken black hair was half up, half down, the remnants of a ponytail feathering her jaw. A stubborn jaw that was now rigid with fury.
It was the offer of a lifetime, marrying into the Prescott wealth. He may have preempted her blackmail attempt but she’d still be well compensated. What the hell was she ticked off about? Thrown, he glanced at her mouth.
It did him in, seeing that lush mouth again. Gentle creases around her lips denoted a lifetime in the sun, but all he could think about was the softness of that flesh when it had teased and tempted him. How she’d placed hot, searing kisses across his chest, trailed her tongue over his belly before—
With a silent curse, he scowled, which only seemed to anger her.
“I am not marrying you.” She enunciated the words as if he was missing a few brain cells.
He scowled. “Why not?”
Her eyes rounded in incredulity. “Because for one, you don’t tell someone you’re marrying them, you ask them. Second, we don’t even know each other. And third, I don’t want to marry you.”
“I know you need money to save this place. I’m making you an offer.” When she remained silent, he turned the screw a little more. “You get your money and I get a wife.”
Her breath sucked in. “I don’t need your money.”
“Because you’ve got so many other offers, right? Your neighbor…Sawyer?” He lifted his eyebrows mockingly. “He’s mortgaged to the hilt.” As he watched her face drain of color he said flatly, “What, you didn’t know?”
She said nothing, just stared at him with those bright blue eyes full of recrimination.
“The way I see it, you don’t have a choice,” he said now. “I’ll give you until tomorrow to think it through, but we both know your answer.”
Ava was speechless, floored by the depth of his arrogance. “If you care so much, then why not just sue for custody?” she finally whispered. “Why marriage?”
“Because I do not ignore my responsibilities.” His voice tightened in the spacious kitchen. “Did you intend to tell me about this baby at all?”
She quickly drew a hand over her stomach as the blood rushed from her face. She couldn’t think, couldn’t even breathe with his ever-watchful eyes, the lingering scent of his warm skin, the aftermath of his luscious voice in the air all around her. “I…didn’t think you’d want to know. You’re Cal Prescott and—”
“You don’t know what I want.” Fury flickered, working his jaw. “You walked into my life, spent the night, then walked right out again.”
“So this is your way of getting back at me?”
“This is not about you. It’s about a child.” His eyes dropped to her belly, then up again, his expression unreadable. “My child.”
He effectively ended their conversation with a flick of his hand, a white business card between his two fingers. When she didn’t take it he slammed it down on the counter. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Almost as if he couldn’t stand to remain in her presence a second longer, he turned and stalked out the door.
Chapter Two
Ava was still standing in the kitchen, Cal’s card clutched in her cold fingers, when her Aunt Jillian walked in with a handful of grocery bags, a warm smile on her weathered face. “Ava, darling, I thought we could have chicken for—”
“Cal Prescott was just here.”
Jillian put the bags on the table. “The man you met in Sydney?”
“The same.”
Jillian opened the fridge and shoved a block of cheese inside. “Really? Is he interested in staying at Jindalee?”
Ava swallowed. Even though she’d given Jillian the sanitised version, her aunt was a perceptive woman. “Not exactly. Apparently he thinks I’m trying to blackmail him—and with this place teetering on the verge, I can’t say I blame him.”
Jillian whirled, her lined face a mask of shock. “Oh, my. That’s not good.”
Ava sank into a kitchen chair and put her face in her hands. “I don’t believe this. And now he…” She sighed. “Jillian, I have to tell you something. Sit down.”
Jillian kept right on putting away the groceries. “If it’s about you being pregnant, I already guessed.”
Lord, did the whole world know? Ava’s jaw sagged until she snapped it shut with a click. “How? When?”
“You can’t hide a sudden craving for cheese-and-pickle sandwiches. Plus,” she gently reached out and smoothed Ava’s hair, “your hair went curly. Your grandma and I were exactly the same. It’s a Reilly thing.” Jillian quickly enveloped her in a hug. “Darling, are you okay with this?”
“Yes.” With a relieved sigh, Ava let herself sink into the embrace even as her head spun with the last hour’s events. “You’re not upset I’m not married?”
“It’s not the Middle Ages, darling. And I’m not your father,” she added pointedly.
Ava just squeezed Jillian harder. “Cal thinks I did it on purpose,” she muffled against the woman’s soft shoulder. When Jillian pulled back, Ava avoided her aunt’s eyes, unable to face the questions there. “And now he’s demanding we get married.”
Jillian went back to unpacking. “That’s very chivalrous of him, especially in this day and age.”
“No, it’s not! I can’t even begin to list the things wrong with this—we’re complete strangers, we live separate lives, have careers, not to mention what the town would say—”
“Oh, my giddy aunt!” Jillian slammed a can of tomatoes down on the counter. “Your business is about to go under, you’re pregnant by a rich, attractive, single man—a man who wants to do the right thing and marry you—and you’re worried about what a bunch of old busybodies would say?”
Ava stared at her, stunned. Her Aunt Jillian was the most easygoing person she’d ever known. She’d never raised her voice in anger, never blown her top.
“You’re saying I should marry him?” Ava said slowly.
“I’m saying a child has a right to know his father. From what I’ve read, Cal Prescott never knew his.”
“His mother remarried. He has a father.”
“But his birth father ran out. ‘To know the man, at first know the child.’”
“What?”
“Cal Prescott is a man with obvious trust issues, dear, which can make people do extreme things,” Jillian explained as she started unpacking the apples. “I do wish you’d pay attention a bit better.” Her face suddenly softened. “Or are those hormones kicking in already?”
Ava sighed. “It is not hormones. And don’t change the subject.” She leaned back in her chair, her mind tossing and turning. “I just don’t know what to do.”
Jillian rolled her eyes. “You both have something each other wants. So you make a deal.”
“Have you not been listening about the whole blackmail thing? The only thing he wants is the baby.” She laid a protective hand over her belly. “And he’s not getting that.”
“Darling, do you think he’d actually try to take away your child?” Jillian asked with a shake of her head. “Sounds to me the man just wants to be a father. And he can save Jindalee into the bargain. Unless…” she hesitated. “You don’t want Jindalee.”
Ava flushed. Jillian knew her better than anyone, even her own parents. Jindalee land had been in her family for over a hundred years. The sheep station had been her father’s dream, a culmination of hard work and town status. Ava had known from a very early age she was a distant fourth in his affections, streets behind the land, her mother, then her younger sister, Grace. The uncompromising man had often accused her of being too wild, too selfish, too carefree. And she’d proved it in spades at twenty when she’d single-handedly destroyed everything.
Not selfish anymore. She closed her eyes, picturing his silvery head held proud, a dark frown set in a face lined with age and the elements. She’d put her own share of worry lines on that face.
Her eyes shot open when Jillian placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You don’t have to prove anything anymore, Ava,” the older woman said softly. “He’s gone. He loved this land, but—”
“So do I.” It was the simple truth. She loved the gently sloping hills, the craggy gum trees that housed the native corellas and lorikeets. The kangaroos that grazed in the morning mist and the stunning sunsets that spread across the big navy sky. It made her heart expand with joy every day at the sheer beauty of the land. Her land.
“Ava,” Jillian said now, her eyes sympathetic. “It doesn’t have to be so hard. No one will think less of you if you sell.”
“But I would.” Ava stood, walked over to the counter and began washing the apples. She’d not sunk everything into this property just to see it fail. And if Cal was on the level, then she didn’t even have her neighbour’s buyout offer as backup.
Hope bloomed, a tiny thread of light bobbing along a sea of uncertainty. She let it sit there for a couple of seconds until caution doused it. Before she charged into any decision, she had to pin down the details. Cal was offering her a chance to save Jindalee. She might be guilty of many things, but looking a gift horse in the mouth was not one of them. It’d be a cakewalk compared to what she’d already been through.
A cakewalk.
On Saturday at 10:00 a.m., after her two paying customers had checked out, Ava knew she couldn’t stall any longer. She’d called and offered to drive the twenty minutes to Parkes, but Cal had preempted her. Now as she watched from her porch, a brand-new red Calais slowly made its way down the dirt road. It finally stopped in the small designated parking area, directly below the huge gum tree.
Ava took a breath, then another, dragging in the comforting kitchen smells to give her strength—vanilla, coffee and fresh-baked apple pie, aromas that said “welcome, come on in!”—or so she’d read in a decorating magazine.
When Cal finally unfolded himself from the car, she did a double take. She’d expected expensive casual: a polo shirt, sharply pressed pants, imported Italian shoes. But he surprised her in a pair of faded Levi’s, work boots, a brown leather jacket and white cotton T-shirt, the latter hugging like cling wrap, outlining every muscular dip and curve of his chest. Natural command and raw sexuality oozed fromhis every bone andAva couldn’t help but stare.
He stalked purposefully up her steps with a long-legged stride that indicated he’d no place else to be, his dark eyes shuttered and focused squarely on her. She threaded her fingers once then released them and suddenly the air was filled with his warm, spicy scent.
“Ava,” he said, making her name sound sexier than the promise of a hot, wet kiss. Lord, he undid her. Did he remember how in the dark of night, she’d confessed her name on his lips made her want to melt in a puddle at his feet? How he’d sensuously turned that confession against her and sent her body into a whimpering frenzy with every word, every whisper?
She quickly turned and walked in the kitchen door, but not before she caught his mouth twitch for one brief second. She groaned inwardly. He remembered.
Thankful that the warm kitchen disguised her flushed cheeks, she said over her shoulder, “We’ll go into the lounge room.”
As she led him down the hall, the tide of impending doom tugged at her legs. Her lounge room was welcoming and expansive, with cream walls and pine colonial-style furniture, but she couldn’t help but think Cal could buy a place like this a thousand times over. He was decisive, powerful and obscenely rich. If Jillian thought to sell her on all those attributes, she was sorely mistaken. It only proved to her that Cal was unfamiliar with the word “no.”
His closed expression pitched her stomach into queasy unrest. This man, with his brooding thoughtfulness and silent staring, who’d stormed back into her life and accused her of blackmail, was a complete stranger to her.
What on earth was she thinking?
She sat on the chaise longue and folded her legs under her, watching as he remained standing.
“I apologize,” he began stiffly, “for yesterday. I believe I could have come off a little…”
“Pushy?” she offered, surprised.
“Determined,” he amended firmly. “I’m not used to making deals based on…” He ran his eyes over her and for one second, something flared in the dark depths before he shut it down. “…personal matters.”
Ava could only stare. When he unflinchingly met her eyes, something clicked. He was actually embarrassed at admitting that—a man worth billions, a business genius who was a dead ringer for Russell Crowe and attracted women by the boatload. Yet his expression said he’d rather eat glass than reveal any emotional vulnerability.
Despite herself, despite his demands, she felt a tiny thread of sympathy unfurl. Yet before she could say anything, he crossed his arms and swiftly changed the subject.
“What I’m offering is a business proposition. You need money. In return, the baby—and you—will have the Prescott name and all that entails.”
The smooth conciseness of his proposal took her aback for one heartbeat. In the next, she realized exactly what was happening: Sheer brute force hadn’t worked, so he was playing his next hand. Calm reasoning. She wondered what he’d try next if she refused. Seduction, perhaps? To her annoyance, a gentle anticipatory buzz tripped over her skin.
“Won’t a wife put a downer on your lifestyle?” she said now, shoving those distracting thoughts aside.
