The Hot-Blooded Groom. Emma Darcy

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      This was a somewhat sobering thought. Though reassuring, as well. It had to mean he was seriously considering where she could best be used in the company business, and more importantly, he didn’t seem at all put off by anything she’d said.

      He wasn’t touching her, either. From the moment he’d stepped back from that highly charged moment in front of the Bellagio Hotel, he’d made no physical contact with her. Plenty of exhilarating eye contact, but nothing physical. Perhaps he had stepped right back from sexual temptation, deciding an intimate liaison with her was inappropriate.

      Which, of course it was, Sunny told herself. If she held his high esteem, well…that was something very positive. Yet she couldn’t stop her gaze from surreptitiously wandering over him whenever he paused in his role of tourist guide, pointing things out to her.

      The muscular breadth of his chest caught her eye as they lingered under the Statue of Liberty at New York, New York, watching the roller-coaster that looped around the hotel, its riders screaming their excitement. A woman would surely feel safe, held to all that strength, and as a father, he would easily be able to carry two or three children, clutched in his arms or perched on those shoulders.

      Then his hand captivated her attention, directing her to look at the figure of the magician, Merlin, in the windows of one of the turrets forming the Medieval castle which was the Excalibur Hotel…a large strong hand, deeply tanned, long fingers, neatly buffed nails. To have such a hand holding her breast, stroking her…did it know how to be gentle? Was he a caring lover?

      When they stood between the giant Sphinxes that flanked the great pyramid of the Luxor Hotel…he didn’t look at all dwarfed by them…more like a powerful pharaoh of his time…a man astride the world he was born to…and what would spring from the loins of this king of kings?

      Sunny had to take a stern grip on herself. Secretly lusting over Bryce Templar was bad enough. She had to stop thinking about babies, especially connected with him. Whatever the deal he had in mind for her, babies would most certainly not be part of it.

      They took the pedestrian overpasses to cross the street to the other side of the boulevard. The second one led them into the vast MGM complex, and an Elvis Presley impersonator strutting ahead of them and revelling in the notice he drew, evoked a bubble of shared amusement.

      ‘I’ve never understood that,’ Sunny murmured.

      ‘What?’

      ‘Why people want to be someone else.’

      ‘You never entertain a dream world?’

      She blushed, guiltily conscious of her x-rated dreams about him. ‘Not to the extent of actually copying another person.’

      ‘You’re content to be you.’

      ‘I guess I think…this is my life, however imperfect it is.’

      The twinkling green eyes intensified to a sharp probe. ‘What would make it perfect?’

      Sunny couldn’t reveal that, not when her idea of perfection revolved around the man he was. She could feel her blush deepening and frantically sought some kind of all-purpose answer.

      ‘I don’t think we can expect perfection. Making the most of who we are is probably the best aim.’

      ‘So a good career in your chosen field would satisfy you?’

      Was he testing how long she might stay in his employ? She couldn’t bring herself to lie. A career that interested her was great but it wasn’t everything. ‘Well…not completely,’ she admitted, hoping he didn’t need total dedication to her work. ‘I think most of us would like to have a…a partner…to share things with.’

      Surely he would, too. Being alone was…lonely. Though he probably never had to be alone if he didn’t want to be. Here she was…providing him with company, simply because he chose to have it, and he hadn’t even met her before today. Maybe he was self-sufficient enough not to need any more than a bit of congenial company whenever he cared to fit it in.

      ‘What about children?’ he asked, jolting her out of her contemplation of what she wanted for herself, and hitting directly on a highly sensitive need.

      ‘Children?’ she echoed, unsure where this was leading.

      ‘Do you see yourself as a mother some time in the future, or are babies a complication you don’t want in your life?’

      She sighed. It probably wasn’t the smart answer but she simply couldn’t pretend that missing out on having a family—at least one baby—wasn’t any big deal to her.

      ‘I would like to have a child one day…with the right father,’ she added with a wry wistfulness.

      ‘What would encompass right to you, Sunny?’

      This was getting too close to the bone. Having envisaged him as the genetically ideal father, Sunny’s comfort zone was being severely tested by his persistence on these points.

      They had descended the staircase from the street overpass into the MGM casino area, and were now moving past a café with a jungle theme. Unfortunately Tarzan did not leap out and provide a distraction, and Bryce Templar’s question was still hanging.

      ‘What relevance does that have to my job?’ she asked, deciding some challenge should be made on the grounds of purpose.

      ‘It goes to character,’ he answered smoothly. The green eyes locked onto hers, returning her challenge with an intimate undercurrent that flowed straight around her heart and squeezed it. ‘I’m very particular about the character of anyone I bring into close association with me.’

      Close.

      The word pounded around her bloodstream, stirring up a buzz of sexual possibilities again.

      ‘Some women’s prime requirement of right would be a certain level of income. The child-price, one might say,’ he said sardonically.

      Sunny frowned. ‘I could support a child myself. That’s not the point.’

      ‘What is?’

      She rounded on him, not liking the cynical flavour of his comment, and hating the idea of him applying any shade of it to her. ‘You have a father. What was right for you as a child?’

      His mouth curled with irony. ‘For him to be there when I needed him.’

      Which she could no longer trust Derek to do. The clanging casino noise around her drove that home again.

      ‘You’ve just said it all, Mr. Templar,’ she stated decisively.

      Her eyes clashed with his, daring him to refute that this quality overrode everything else. It carried the acceptance of responsibility and commitment, displayed reliability and caring, and generated trust…all the things Derek had just demonstrated wrong about himself.

      Bryce Templar didn’t refute it. He stared back at her and the air between them sizzled with tense unspoken things. Sunny had the wild sense that he was scouring her soul for how right a mother she would be, judging on some scale which remained hidden to her but was vibrantly СКАЧАТЬ