The Billionaire's Baby Plan / Marrying the Northbridge Nanny: The Billionaire's Baby Plan. Allison Leigh

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      And Rourke’s father? He’d landed in California with a surgically enhanced trophy wife who’d been fewer than ten years older than Rourke.

      He’d seen them only once. When he’d been twenty-three and had raked in a cool million over his first real deal.

      That was when Trophy Wife had indicated a considerable interest in Rourke’s bed and Dad had claimed Rourke was a chip off the old block.

      He’d never seen either one of them again.

      “Ted and I were in the same Boy Scout troop,” he told Lisa, fully expecting the surprise she couldn’t hide. Before they’d left Boston, his mother had chugged him across town to keep him involved in the troop that he’d been drafted into by his father, before he’d skipped. Rourke had hated it until he and Ted had struck up an unlikely friendship.

      “You were a Boy Scout.”

      “Trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly—” He broke off the litany of Scout law when she snorted softly.

      “Sorry,” she said, but aside from the bloom of pink over her sharp cheekbones, she didn’t particularly look it. “I just have a whole mental image of you wearing khaki shorts and merit badges.” The tip of her tongue appeared between her pearl-white teeth. Then she laughed softly, and shook her head. “A considerable change from your usual attire.”

      He dragged his gaze away from the humorous stretch of her lips only to get caught in the sparkle of her eyes.

      He tamped down on the heat shooting through him.

      He hadn’t seen her smile, really smile, since that first glimpse of her at Shots when she’d been laughing over something with her friend Sara Beth.

      Glancing at Tonio, who immediately cleared away their salads, Rourke picked up the prospectus. “The Armstrong Institute’s been plagued with bad press,” he said, breaking his own trumped-up rule of no business over lunch. “Questionable research protocols. Padded statistics.”

      “Both allegations were proved false. By none other than your Scout buddy, Ted.”

      “Yet the bad aftertaste of innuendo remains.”

      The sparkle in her eyes died, leaving her expression looking hauntingly hollow. “That’s a little like blaming the victim, isn’t it? The Armstrong Institute has never operated with anything less than integrity. Nor has any of its staff. But we’re to be held accountable now for someone else’s shoddy reporting?”

      “Integrity.” He mulled the word over, watching her while Tonio returned again with their main course of lobster risotto. “Interesting choice of words.”

      Her gaze didn’t waver as she reached for her wineglass again. “I cannot imagine why.”

      She would be a good poker player, he decided. Not everyone could baldly lie like that without so much as a blink. She was even better at it than his ex-wife had been.

      But for the moment, he let the matter drop. “Eat the risotto. It’s nearly as good as my mother’s.”

      She picked up her fork and took a small bite. Poked at the risotto as if moving the creamy rice around her plate would be an adequate substitute for actually eating. “Investment in the Armstrong Fertility Institute would be along the line of similar projects for Devlin Ventures. You’ve had great success in medically related firms.”

      “None of which was family controlled,” he said flatly. “I don’t do family-owned businesses.”

      “You invested in Fare.”

      “I’m a partner in Fare.”

      Lisa’s gaze finally fell, but not quickly enough to hide the defeat that filled it. She set down the fork with care. Dabbed the corner of her lips with her linen napkin before laying it on the table. “I believe I’ve wasted enough of your time. Clearly you agreed to this meeting only because of your friendship with Ted.” She pushed her chair back a few inches and picked up her briefcase as she rose. Her gaze flicked back to him for a moment. “Please assure Raoul that my departure is no reflection on his excellent meal.”

      She turned away and started to leave the dining room.

      “I’m surprised you would give up so quickly,” he said. “So easily. I would have thought you were all about duty to the institute.”

      He saw her shoulders stiffen beneath the stylish jacket. She slowly turned, clasping the handle of her briefcase in both hands in front of her. “I am. And that duty dictates that my time is better served on prospective investors. Not dallying over amazing risotto and good wine with a man who has a different agenda. Whatever that may be.”

      He had no agenda where the institute was concerned. With the single exception of his unwelcome attraction to her, anything to do with the Armstrong family put a vile taste in his mouth.

      “The institute is on the brink of financial collapse,” he said evenly. “I’m not in the habit of throwing away good money.”

      “The institute is experiencing some financial hiccups,” she returned coolly. “Nothing from which we cannot recover. And if you didn’t have some burr under your saddle that I still fail to understand, you’d be able to recognize that fact, too.”

      “That’s what you really believe.” It was almost incomprehensible. The losses that the institute had incurred were nearly insurmountable.

      Her chin angled slightly.

      Too thin. Too tense.

      But undeniably beautiful and certainly dutiful to her cause.

      “Fine. We’ll meet in the morning.”

      She lifted an eyebrow. “Where? Your favorite breakfast shop?”

      He very nearly smiled. The ice princess did have a claw or two. “My office. Nine o’clock.”

      Her eyebrow lowered. Her eyes flared for a moment. She nodded. “Very well.”

      “And don’t be late. I’ll be squeezing you into the day as it is.”

      “I’m never late,” she assured him and, with a small smile, turned on her heel and strode out.

      He watched her go, waiting to see if she’d glance back.

      She did. But not until she was nearly out of sight. He still managed to hold her gaze for a second longer than was comfortable.

      Her cheeks filled with color. This time when she turned to go, there was a lot more run in her stride.

      How far would duty take her?

      He picked up his wine, smiling faintly. It would be interesting finding out.

      Chapter Two

      “Of course he’s going to invest.” Sara Beth Bonner’s voice was bright and confident through the cell phone’s speaker. “Why else would he ask you to come to his office this СКАЧАТЬ