Bound by the Kincaid Baby / The Millionaire's Miracle. Emilie Rose

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СКАЧАТЬ to all kinds of lawsuits and legal complications—if she was looking for a free ride, as he suspected. The last thing he wanted to do was give another Corbin grounds to extort more Kincaid money.

      He backed away from the door, heading for the lesser of two evils. The crying child.

      Rhett’s breath hitched when Mitch entered the room. The boy stood in his crib and held his arms out, opening and closing his tiny hands. “Pig me up.”

      Mitch fisted his hands by his sides. “Hey, buddy. Carly’s in the shower. She’ll be here in a few minutes.”

      The kid’s face scrunched up and his bottom lip quivered. Fresh tears oozed from his big brown eyes. Eyes the same shape and color as Carly’s. “Up. Up.”

      Mitch remained a yard from the crib. “You have a bad dream?”

      The whimper turned into a cry. The boy grasped the railing and bounced. “Up. Up.”

      Letting the kid get close even once would be the beginning of nothing good. But he had no choice since Carly wasn’t here doing the job she’d committed to do. He shouldn’t have let her talk him out of the nanny.

      Wishing he could avoid it, but knowing he couldn’t, Mitch gritted his teeth and moved closer. Rhett immediately latched his arms around Mitch’s neck, crushing Mitch’s windpipe. Or maybe it was the memories choking him. He lifted the sturdy little body and automatically patted the diaper, checking for soggy overload. It felt dry.

      The kid hiccupped and burrowed his wet face against Mitch’s neck. Mitch awkwardly thumped the narrow little back, and when that didn’t settle the boy, he crossed to the rocking chair and sat. Toeing the rocker into motion, Mitch tried to remain detached, tried to shut down the memories. Memories of nights with a colicky child. But he couldn’t. His chest tightened with each sway of the rocker.

      Soothing nonsense poured from his lips as if it had only been yesterday when he’d performed this same task for another little boy.

      A boy he’d planned to adopt and claim as his own.

      Rhett felt like Travis, smelled like Travis, cuddled like Travis. Same weight. Same size. Same desperate need for a father’s love.

      Rhett quieted and grew heavy, telling Mitch he’d drifted back to sleep. But as reluctant as Mitch had been to pick up the boy, now he didn’t want to let him go.

      He’d missed this. And the only way to ensure he wouldn’t have to let Rhett go was to get rid of Carly Corbin.

      The sooner the better.

      Carly halted outside Rhett’s bedroom door and blinked.

      As if it weren’t shocking enough to find Mitch cradling Rhett and gently stroking his back, a quiet baritone filled the room. Humming? Mitch Kincaid humming?

      The image didn’t fit the arrogant executive she’d seen over the past week and a half.

      Eyes closed and with a sad expression on his face, he rested his dark head against the back of the rocker. Rhett sagged on Mitch’s bare chest with his head tucked beneath Mitch’s jaw, clearly sound asleep.

      Something inside Carly twisted at the sight of the big, strong man gently holding the small boy.

      Why was Mitch here? Had he come in on other nights without her knowledge? Was his jerk act just that? An act? Which was the real Mitch Kincaid? The picture in front of her certainly didn’t mesh with the description Marlene had provided of Everett’s henchman or the emotionless robot Carly had seen so far.

      Carly entered the room, and Mitch’s eyes flew open.

      “Is something wrong?” she whispered.

      “He woke up crying. You didn’t come.” The accusatory tone raised her hackles.

      He rose quickly and laid Rhett back in the crib. Carly pried her gaze off the bare, broad V of his back to note the care Mitch took not to jostle the child. He handled Rhett with experienced hands and tucked the blanket around him.

      Interesting.

      “I didn’t hear him. I was showering off the stench of our evening run. I forgot to take the baby monitor into the bathroom with me.”

      When Mitch turned, the sight of his naked chest made her catch her breath. Oh yeah, he had a fine physique above the low waistband of his pants. Wide shoulders. Muscled arms. Washboard abs. Dark swirls of curls circled his flat nipples and painted a silky line down the center of his lean abdomen.

      Dampening her suddenly dry lips, she hoped the lust percolating through her didn’t show on her face.

      “Don’t forget next time.” His sandpaper voice sounded harsh in the quiet room. He brushed past her, heading toward the door.

      “You’ve done this before.”

      Mitch stopped in the hallway and slowly turned. “I told you I knew how to handle kids.”

      “This is the first evidence I’ve seen of that. Do you have children of your own who live with their mother?”

      “No.”

      “Then where did you get your experience?”

      “Leave it, Carly.”

      She advanced on him in the dimly lit hall. “You expect me to trust you with Rhett. Tell me why I should.”

      A nerve in his jaw twitched. “I was engaged to a single parent once.”

      “What happened?”

      “She went back to her famous ex-husband.” His blank expression couldn’t completely mask the pain in his eyes or the husky edge to his words.

      “I’m sorry.” Carly reached out and gave his forearm a comforting squeeze. His skin scorched her, but she couldn’t seem to pull away.

      Mitch’s muscles shifted beneath her palm and his chest expanded on a long, slow inhalation. His gaze met hers and desire widened his pupils. The same hunger flooded her veins.

      Carly gulped. This could so not happen. Not with him.

      “What are you doing, Carly?”

      Playing with fire, that’s what. But she could only shake her head and lower her hand. Too late. Electricity arced between them unbroken.

      The dark green gaze dropped from her eyes to her mouth. “Is this what you want?”

      Mitch hooked an arm around her waist and yanked her forward. The thin cotton of her sleep shirt and robe weren’t nearly enough protection from his searing flesh. Her torso fused to his.

      Mitch took her mouth roughly, the initial contact slamming his teeth against hers. She squeaked a protest, but he didn’t release her. He merely changed the angle of the kiss.

      Every cell in her body screamed with alarm. With arousal.

      This wasn’t supposed to happen. Mitch Kincaid had hurt and СКАЧАТЬ