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

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      Carly had clearly given the idea of moving across the country to be closer to her parents careful consideration. Unless she left the boy behind, that put the terms of the will and everything Mitch held dear in jeopardy.

      He had to get custody of his father’s little bastard.

      Soon.

      He closed the dishwasher and straightened. The stillness of the backyard grabbed his attention. He scanned the garden and spotted a splash of peach and Carly’s bare legs sprawled on the lawn between the fountain and the koi pond.

      Alarm flooded his veins with adrenaline. Had the boy fallen in? Dammit, he’d ordered the gardener to fence the shallow pond and pool, but the custom-made materials hadn’t arrived yet.

      Or had Carly hurt herself dashing across the grass with her hair and her dress streaming behind her.

      Mitch slammed through the back door, leaped from the porch and sprinted past Poseidon and across the grass. He rounded the roses and jerked to a halt.

      Rhett lay stretched out on his belly beside Carly with his dark head near hers. Her bare arm encircled the boy’s waist.

      “Orange. That one’s orange,” Carly said, pointing at the water.

      “Orange. Big,” the boy warbled.

      “Yes, the orange fish is big. The white one is small.”

      Mitch’s heart jackhammered against his ribs and his lungs burned. Relief over finding them safe segued into awareness of Carly’s long legs. Runner’s legs. Lean, but muscled. Smooth and tanned. A charge of sexual awareness flooded him and that pissed him off. “What are you doing?”

      The duo startled at his harsh tone. Keeping one hand on Rhett’s waistband, Carly rolled to her side. “Looking at the fish.”

      Barefooted and bare-legged, with apparently no concern for the grass clippings clinging to her dress, calves and feet, Carly attracted him far more than was safe. Despite her denials, he knew damned well she was out to hook him. The way her sister had his father. The way countless other women had tried to work their way into the Kincaid beds and coffers.

      Sure, Carly was more subtle and she brought a unique angle to the table. She might deny the attraction, but he’d seen the interest in her eyes when she looked at him. Like now. With her sun-streaked hair pooling like silk on the grass, her chin tilted up to expose the long line of her neck and her gaze slowly climbing his body.

      Oh yeah, she wanted him.

      But even without her mercenary genetics, he couldn’t get involved with her. He’d learned the hard way through both his and his father’s affairs that running a business the size of KCL left no room for anything more than temporary liaisons. He’d forget to call, or miss a date, and then there would be hell to pay from the neglected woman. Too much hassle.

      He’d stick with women like him who were too committed to their careers to want more than physical satisfaction now and then. The women he called didn’t expect romance. They expected hot, sweaty sex. And nothing more. But even that wasn’t safe with Carly Corbin.

      She rolled to her feet as graceful as a cat and brushed the grass fragments from her clothing. She missed the blade stuck in her hair. Mitch fisted his hands against the urge to reach for it. For her.

      “Up. Up. Pig me up,” Rhett demanded. Mitch ignored him.

      Carly frowned at Mitch, shook her head and bent to lift the boy. Her top gaped as she did, revealing the curves of her breasts and the dusky hint of her nipples. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Need kicked Mitch in the gut.

      “Want to help me give Rhett his bath?” Carly asked as she straightened.

      He forced his gaze from her chest to her face. “No.”

      But he wouldn’t mind bathing Carly, cupping her flesh with soap-slick hands and sinking into her.

      Not gonna happen.

      He was not like his old man who’d never learned from his mistakes. Mitch thought with the head on his shoulders and not with the one in his pants.

      A woman had made a fool of him once.

      It wouldn’t happen again.

      No matter how much he wanted this one.

      “Settle him, Carly,” Mitch muttered and struggled to ignore Rhett’s cries as he paced his room. “C’mon, settle the boy.”

      Mitch’s heart hammered against his ribs and his nerves stretched tight. He didn’t want to get involved, but the noise from the blue suite continued to rise.

      Where in the hell was Carly?

      He yanked open his door and stalked down the hall. Her bedroom door stood open, but the room and bed were empty. Had she gone downstairs? Snuck out of the house for a date?

      Bolted like he wanted her to?

      At any other time he’d rejoice at the prospect, but not when he was alone in the house with the kid. He forced himself to turn and scan Rhett’s darkened room. The glow of the new night-light illuminated the unhappy, red-faced child.

      Short arms extended toward Mitch. “Bubba.”

      “It’s okay, kid. Go back to sleep.”

      Rhett whimpered in response, ripping Mitch in two.

      He strode into Carly’s room to check the status of her clothes. If they were here, she was coming back. Before he reached the closet another sound registered. Running water. The shower. Relief mingled with disappointment. She hadn’t left.

      He crossed the plum carpet to the closed bathroom door and lifted his hand to pound on the panel and order her to get her ass out here and take care of the kid. An off-key voice belting out a country ballad stilled his fist and an image of Carly’s wet, bare golden skin seized his mind and sent a jolt of arousal through him. The slam of his heart reverberated in his groin.

      Down, boy. You can be attracted to any woman but her.

      He looked over his shoulder and through the open door at the crying child. Which was the lesser of two evils?

      Normally Mitch enjoyed naked women, especially wet naked women, but the genetically identical version of the Machiavellian bitch who’d screwed his father over with the oldest trick in the book was off-limits.

      His life would be easier if his feelings for Carly were identical to his feelings for her twin. Marlene had left him cold and not just the day she’d calmly accepted cash to get rid of her baby as easily as she would lunch money. She’d never flipped his switch. She was a liar and a con artist who’d set out to nail herself a rich husband and pulled out all stops to achieve her goal. The boy was better off without Marlene Corbin in his life.

      “Mama, Mama,” Rhett wailed and Mitch winced. The kid already called Carly Mama. Would Rhett also be better off without Carly? Didn’t matter. Carly Corbin’s days as Rhett’s guardian were numbered.

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