The Millionaire's Pregnant Mistress. Michelle Celmer

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СКАЧАТЬ shrugged. “The carburetor was terminally ill. I don’t suppose you could spring for a new one. I’ll reimburse you.”

      “I’ll take care of it.”

      He might have worried it was just another scam, but he’d learned an awful lot about Tess these past few days. Since one could never be too careful in a situation like this, he’d hired a private detective to check her out. He’d found nothing in her past to indicate foul play. She had no criminal record, no past deviant or questionable activity. Nothing to suggest she might be conning him. Tess was exactly who she appeared to be. A hardworking woman just doing her best to get by. She had never wanted more from him than a little financial help.

      With that knowledge, something deep in his soul felt oddly settled.

      Not that he expected this to be easy. Making love with Tess had made him feel alive for the first time in months—had given him hope that he had a chance for happiness again. But even if he’d asked her to stay that night, if he’d let himself fall for her, a child would have never been part of the deal. Seeing Tess’s growing belly would be a constant reminder of everything he’d lost.

      He’d loved Jeanette, but she was gone. He’d accepted that. It was losing his son that still stung like a fresh wound. A slash through his heart that would never stop bleeding.

      In some ways he felt ready to move on, in others he was still trapped in the past.

      “So,” Tess asked, dropping into the chair across from his desk, “how exactly is this going to work?”

      “It will be exactly as we discussed the other day. You’ll stay here with me until it’s born. Afterward I’ll set you and the baby up in a condo with a generous trust.”

      She gazed intently at him, as if she were trying to see into his head, to be sure what he said was true.

      The color of her sweater seemed to draw out the yellow in her irises. He remembered thinking that night in the bar how unusual they were. How bright and full of curiosity, and maybe a little sad.

      He’d watched her for a while before approaching her, fascinated by her petite, striking features. By her warm, genuine smile as she chatted with the bartender. And when she looked his way, and their eyes met and locked, there had been enough sparks to melt the snow on the entire mountain. It hit him with such force that it had nearly knocked him out of his chair.

      Even now there was something about the woman that messed with his head.

      “Sounds almost too good to be true,” she said.

      “Meaning…?”

      “Look, it’s not that I don’t trust you, but…”

      “But you don’t trust me,” he said, and she gave him a sheepish shrug. “I’m not offended. Put in your position, I wouldn’t trust me, either.”

      “Honestly, you seem like an okay guy. A little overbearing maybe…It’s just that I’m giving up an awful lot here. I’m watching my back, you know? I don’t really know anything about you.”

      He understood completely. He would never enter into a business agreement on a handshake deal. “I’ve already spoken to my attorney about drawing up a contract.”

      She narrowed her eyes at him. “And I’m supposed to trust this attorney?”

      “You’re free to have the attorney of your choice look over the documents before you sign anything—at my expense of course.”

      “I guess that sounds fair.”

      “I should warn you that my lawyer has insisted on a confidentiality clause.”

      “Confidentiality? Who am I going to tell?”

      “This is as much for yours and the baby’s protection as mine. It was abhorrent the way the media exploited my wife’s death. For months after, they made my life a living hell. There was an unauthorized biography written about her life and a made-for-television movie. Neither was what you could consider flattering, or had barely an ounce of truth. Trust me when I say that you don’t ever want to know what that’s like.”

      “When I found out from the girls at work who you were, I went to the library and did a little research.”

      “What kind of research?”

      “Old newspaper articles and magazines, Internet stuff.”

      He wanted to feel indignant, but really he had done the same thing. “And what did you find?”

      “There was a lot. So I get why you’re worried.”

      “Things have finally died down. I don’t want to stir the pot. The fewer people who know about this the better.”

      “I understand. I don’t want that, either.”

      He didn’t want to alarm her, but it was only fair that he caution her about what she might be getting herself into. “I’m not suggesting you should break all ties and avoid your friends—”

      “I don’t have any friends.” She smiled and added. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. Like, oh poor me I have no friends. It’s just that I haven’t lived here long and I work so many hours I never really found the time to make too many friends. Not close ones, anyway.”

      And now he was basically telling her not to make friends at all.

      “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll be careful.”

      “Then I guess that just about covers it,” he said.

      “Um, actually, there are a couple more things.”

      “Okay.”

      “I’m not sure how to say this, so I’m just going to say it. I won’t live with an alcoholic. You have to stop drinking.”

      Her words took him aback. What had given her the impression he had a problem with alcohol? Because he had an occasional drink? Who didn’t? Or had she read about him in the tabloids? Removing himself from the public eye, hiding away, had only served to fuel the media’s interest. God only knows what rumors they had been spreading lately. He’d stopped paying attention a long time ago.

      He opened his mouth to deny the accusation, then realized that was exactly what an alcoholic would do. Damned if he did, damned if he didn’t.

      Instead he asked, “If I refuse?”

      “The deal is off.”

      Seeing as how he wasn’t an alcoholic, it was a small sacrifice to make.

      “I’ll quit drinking,” he told her.

      She gave him a wary look, her pixie features sharpening with suspicion. “You’ll quit drinking. Just like that?”

      “Just like that.” He walked over to the minibar, picked up the decanter of scotch he kept there and poured its contents into the sink. He enjoyed an occasional drink, but it wasn’t something he couldn’t live without.

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