Laura Wright - No Ring Required

Inside was nothing less than spectacular, but not in a showy, uptight way. Though it was sparsely furnished, the rooms were warm and rustic with lots of brick and hardwood.

Mary sipped her lemonade, taking in the soft summer afternoon on the sprawling deck that nestled right up to the edge of a private lake.

“I thought you should see the space you’ll be working with,” Ethan said, finishing off his last bite of chicken.

Mary nodded. “You’re nothing if not helpful, Mr. Curtis.”

A breeze kicked up around them, sending pre-autumn leaves swirling over the edge of the deck into the water.

“Hey, I thought we talked about this back at the baby shop. You were going to call me Ethan—”

“I only agreed to that to get you to stop talking.”

“What?” he said, chuckling.

“You were bringing up the past and I wasn’t interested in going there.”

“The very recent past.”

She attempted to look confused. “Was it? Feels like ages ago, like it didn’t happen at all.”

He glared at her belly. “Oh, it happened, Mary.”

Heat flooded her skin, but she forced her expression to remain impassive.

His gaze found hers again and he studied her. “You’ve got quite an attitude on you.”

“With you, yes.”

“I’m sure I’m not the only one,” he said, one brow raised sardonically.

“Don’t you have a room to show me?”

He sighed. “Come on, Mary, can we make peace here? Maybe even start again? Friends?”

Inside the confines of his office, where she could remember who and what he was, Mary felt safe. She had her walls up, double thick. Even on his rooftop or at the baby shop, he still seemed arrogant and ever the dictator. But here, in his home, with nature and softness surrounding him, it was different. His skin seemed bronze and highly touchable, his eyes glistened like two inviting lakes beckoning her to jump in, and his clothes seemed highly unnecessary. Mary felt her defenses slipping. Forget being friends; she wanted him to kiss her again—just once so she could prove to herself that it wasn’t as good as she remembered. Sure, he had more depth than he let on, but she could make no mistake about it—Ethan Curtis was a selfish, misguided man, who was solely out for himself.

She put down her napkin and tried not to stare at the lush curve of his lower lip. “I won’t pretend that we’re friends, or even friendly.”

“Fine, but can you really despise me? For wanting a child?”

She laughed, shocked at how obtuse he was being. “Is that a serious question? Of course it’s understandable and wonderful to want a child—blackmailing a woman you know nothing about to get one is not.”

He leaned forward and with a trace of a growl said, “True.”

“You have no excuse for your behavior?”

“None whatsoever.”

They stared at each other in stubborn silence, sparks of heat, of desire, flickering between them.

Finally Ethan spoke, “Let’s go see the room.”

They walked side by side through the house and up the curving staircase to the second floor. Ethan had run these stairs a hundred times, alone of course. He hadn’t invited many people to his home, and the ones that had made it past the foyer had never been allowed upstairs. He normally took women back to their place after a date. Less complicated that way.

These upcoming parties were going to be the first time he’d invited a large group to his home, and the thought alarmed him somewhat, though he knew it was the right business decision. If a person was going to switch insurance companies for their billion-dollar business, they would want to see the man who’d be taking it over in his natural habitat—simple as that.

“I chose the room next to mine,” Ethan explained as they walked down the long hallway. “If he or she needs me in the middle of the night…” He paused at the door to the nursery and looked at her. “That’s how it goes, right? They wake up at night and you go to them?”

“I wouldn’t know.” Her skin had taken on a grayish pallor as she stared into the empty room with its beamed ceilings and white walls.

“Your womanly instincts must tell you something—” Ethan began, but was quickly cut off by Mary’s soft laughter. “All right, I’m a little nervous about this whole thing. I want a child more than anything, but I know absolutely nothing.”

“You’ll get help.”

“I don’t do therapists.”

She released a heavy sigh and turned to face him. “No, Ethan. Not that kind of help.”

“What? Like a nanny or something?”

“Or something.”

He shook his head. “All this child will need is me.”

“Two seconds ago you were saying you didn’t know a thing.”

“I’ll learn.”

“Maybe you won’t be able to give a child everything. I mean…”

“What? What do you mean?”

She gritted her teeth. “Well, you were just talking about womanly instincts. I mean, don’t you think that a child needs a mother?”

Ethan felt his whole body go numb at her query and tried to shake it off, but the more he tried to control the feeling, the anger building inside him, the harder it attacked him. He heard himself mutter a scornful sound, then say, “Not from what I’ve noticed.”

Mary’s face was impassive, except for the frown lines between her brows. “What have you noticed?”

His head was swimming, his thoughts as jumpy as his skin. But why, dammit? Why was he reacting this way? The truth was he’d done just fine after his mom ran off. Sure he got into trouble with the law, but he’d gotten a hold of himself, and look at where he was today—no thanks to a mother. No, he and his kid would do just fine.

Mary felt the conflict start deep in her gut. She didn’t want to give a damn about Ethan or his past or his feelings on his family, but the stark pain etched on his face was very telling and intriguing. She would never have imagined seeing the hint of a suffering boy behind the overconfident glare of the man. “Ethan,” she began softly. “I’m not going to push you on this, but—”

Turning away from her, he lifted his chin and stared into the nursery. He was not about to discuss his past with her. “What do you think of the room?”

“It’s great,” she said in a soft voice. “Perfect. Any kid’s dream.”

“I’d like to get started on it right away.”

“Sure.”

He looked down at her once again, his eyes so dark blue and impassioned she felt her breath catch. “Mary?”

“Yes?”

“Would you mind…” He broke off, shook his head.

“What?”

“Can I touch you?”

Her self-control, always to be counted on, melted like the last bits of snow on a warm spring day. “We agreed—”

“No.” He moved closer, until they were nearly touching. “Your stomach.”

“Oh.”

He cursed darkly. “I know it’s ridiculous. Way too early. All of that. But, I…”

Her gaze dropped to her belly. “It is early.”

“I know, but I just…” His mouth was close to her ear, that sensual, cynical mouth.

“All right,” she heard herself utter foolishly.

Mary closed her eyes, afraid of what she might say or do when his hand gently cupped her stomach. Heat surged through the light cotton fabric of her shirt, and she was flooded with emotions. There was no child here, yet there was an ache so intense she thought she’d collapse if he didn’t move his hand up toward her breasts or down between her thighs. Frustrated weakness overtook her and she wobbled against him.

“Are you all right?” he asked, holding her steady.

She had never run from anything in her life, but at that moment she had to get out of his house, away from that room, far from him. “I have to get back to the office.”