The Billionaire's Fake Engagement / Man From Stallion Country. Robyn Grady

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СКАЧАТЬ seemed to leave her body. Boneless, completely compliant, she dissolved against him as her hands on his chest wove up to hold his working jaw.

      Raw desire licked through his veins as his hand on her shoulder hooked her slightly in. When he deepened the kiss, the quiet moan in the back of her throat confirmed that tonight’s news couldn’t affect how she felt.

      She wanted him more than ever.

      It had been such a long week. He couldn’t wait to get her home, to love her again the way she deserved to be loved.

      But first…

      Softy, reluctantly, he broke the kiss. Enjoying the heavy thrum of his heartbeat, he murmured, “We should get back.”

      He was more than happy to celebrate this night with his sister, but frankly, he couldn’t wait to get Natalie Wilder back home and in bed.

      Three hours later, he and Natalie thanked their hosts and left the thinning party crowd.

      Alone together as the hotel lift door closed, Natalie asked, “Why do you have a bodyguard?”

      Alex hit the ground floor key knowing he’d explained before, when they’d first begun dating. “Paul was my father’s man.”

      “Was your father afraid for his life?”

      She was alluding to Davidson’s barb about his grandfather being a mobster. Or was the inference closer to real time?

      “You mean, am I afraid for my life?”

      “Powerful men tend to have powerful enemies.”

      The lift doors parted and they moved out into the hotel foyer, which was relatively quiet but for a group of vocal Canadians checking in.

      “I’m not concerned about Davidson, if that’s what you mean. Besides there’s other duties a bright man like Paul can perform.”

      Outside, a silver Bentley pulled up with Paul at the helm and Natalie grinned. “You mean like chauffeur?”

      Placing a guiding hand on her back, Alex ushered Natalie out into an opulent sandstone forecourt, which was fringed by rustling palm trees and the hum of late-night traffic. “Paul wouldn’t like anyone else driving the Bentley.”

      “It’s his baby, then?”

      He stopped, quizzed her eyes. The B word hadn’t been mentioned since Teresa’s gaffe earlier. Now he had the biggest feeling Natalie would drive herself crazy with worry over the weekend when nothing could be done.

      He waved off the hotel’s uniformed doorman then held her dainty hand in his. “I thought we agreed. I’ll speak with my people, but until then…”

      “You really don’t think the child is yours.”

      His jaw shifted and they began to walk again. He’d assure her as best he could. “I don’t. But I’m not so arrogant as to rule it out completely.”

      That night Bridget had said she was protected. He certainly had been, but he could think of only one form of contraception that was infallible, and it was too late to talk about abstinence now.

      They moved farther out into the cool night air at the same time Paul opened the Bentley’s back passenger door. Alex thought nothing of the man dressed in a rumpled jacket and jeans approaching. But when the man stopped and reached for something from beneath his jacket, Alex’s protective instincts flew into action.

      “Can we get a statement, Mr. Ramirez?” the man said, revealing his notepad at the exact moment Alex stepped in front of Natalie and Paul shot forward to seize the man’s shoulders. The man stumbled back, the camera case slung over his shoulder swinging as his voice rose. “Is it true you’re denying the paternity of a child conceived six months ago?”

      Alex served the reporter a withering look as Paul tussled him away.

      But the man only raised his notepad higher. “How does Bridget Davidson feel about you abandoning her for another woman?”

      “Paul.” Alex hooked an arm. “Let’s roll.”

      With a parting shove, Paul rounded the hood as Alex helped Natalie into the backseat.

      But the jerk wasn’t giving up. Someone had dropped him a tasty lead. Now he fought for the story like a rat after cheese.

      Near the back window, the man dipped his ginger head and peered inside the car. “Are you Natalie Wilder?”

      Alex caught the notepad and flung it in the gutter. “No comment.”

      Perhaps a broken jaw would convince this guy to quit.

      Either suicidal or just plain dumb, the reporter slung off another question. “Is it true you plan to marry Ms. Wilder?”

      His face hot with temper, he slid into the seat beside Natalie as Paul revved the engine. Before closing the door, Alex gave his unequivocal answer.

      “Yes. It’s true.”

      Chapter Three

      Natalie’s mouth dropped open as her heart back flipped then bounced to her throat.

      She’d heard wrong. She must have.

      Alexander Lucio Ramirez planned to marry her?

      Absurd!

      She pressed herself into the far corner of the Bentley’s sumptuous backseat. “What in the world were you thinking?”

      Alex yanked on his black bow tie. “Foremost I was thinking how much I despise the media.”

      Her cheeks burned. “So you throw fuel on their fire?”

      Inclining his Hollywood square jaw, he flicked open his collar at the same time he flicked her a glance. “My life is my business.”

      “Except now you’ve brought me into it.”

      “You were already in my life.”

      “Not posing as your fiancée!”

      Exhaling, he pinched the bridge of his aquiline nose and clamped shut his eyes. “This afternoon everything was as it should be. I’d all but wrapped up a deal, was looking forward to tonight. Tomorrow we were spending the day together.” His hand dropped heavily onto his lap. “Then Joe Davidson waltzes in and detonates a bomb.”

      Natalie bristled. Surely he was forgetting something, or more precisely, someone. “I wonder how unsettled Bridget Davidson must’ve felt when the stick turned pink.”

      He edged over a look. “I don’t need to be reminded of my responsibilities should I be the father of that child.”

      She shivered at the deep, determined timbre of his voice, but she wouldn’t let his irritation at the situation—at that reporter—stop her from getting answers.

      She tipped toward СКАЧАТЬ