Emily McKay - Baby for the Tycoon

“Wendy, I’m not—”

“But you are,” she said, cutting him off. “Don’t you get it? If I wanted to sit back and be taken care of for the rest of my life, I never would have left Texas. I like having to work for a living. I’ve been rich. I know that money alone won’t make me happy. And I also know that being with someone who’s always trying to control me will make me miserable. So either you back off, or we walk away from this now.”

He stared at her a long time, his gaze hard-edged and steely. She didn’t back down. She couldn’t. Her gut told her that if she lost her foothold now, she wouldn’t recover. Besides, she was far too used to intimidating glares from her father or uncle to do that. Eventually, she even smiled. “See. Your Jedi mind tricks don’t work on me.”

His lips twitched at her comment and finally, he gave a terse, reluctant nod, as if agreeing to keep his own money was an affront to his personal honor.

“There’s something else you should know.”

“Okay, hit me.”

“In the event of my death, you and Peyton get it all.” She opened her mouth to protest, but he raised a hand to cut her off. “I’m not budging on that one.”

“What about your family?” As familiar as she was with his schedule, she knew he didn’t see them often, but they did exist. “Surely you want them to have your fortune.”

His eyes were dark and shuttered. His face nearly expressionless. “There are certain charitable organizations that I’ve already provided for. If I die while we’re married, I want you to have the rest.”

She studied him for a moment. Since this was the most she’d ever heard him say about his family—precisely nothing—she had to assume he was serious. Boy, and she thought her relationship with her family was screwed up. “Okay,” she said softly. “Then we’ll just have to take very good care of you for the next two years. Make sure you take your vitamins.” She smiled at her own joke, but he didn’t return the smile. “Now that that’s settled, I’ll go tell Randy he can do his job and protect his client.”

She’d almost made it out the door when Jonathon’s words stopped her.

“I don’t want you to fall in love with me.”

Hand already on the doorknob, she turned to face him, eyebrows raised. “Excuse me?”

His expression was so strained as to be nearly comical. “If we’re going to be together a year or maybe two, I don’t want you imagining that you’ve fallen in love with me.”

Fighting back a chuckle, she searched his face, but saw no signs that he was joking. In fact, he looked so serious, it made her heart catch in her chest. She had to force a teasing smile. “Why? Because you’re so charming and charismatic that I won’t be able to be constantly in your company without falling in love?” He didn’t smile at her, so she asked, “Is this a separate issue from the money or are the millions of dollars supposed to ease my heartache if I did fall in love with you?”

His lips twitched again, but she wasn’t sure if it was with suppressed humor or irritation. “Separate issue. But I’m serious.”

She could certainly see that. It made her uneasy, but she couldn’t say why. It wasn’t arrogance—his fear that she might fall in love with him. No, despite his natural confidence, she didn’t see that in his gaze now. Instead, she saw only concern. For her.

“Let me guess. You’re not the type of man who believes in love.” She could imagine that all too easily. Jonathon may feel physical passion—he’d proven that clearly enough when he’d kissed her yesterday—but love was something else entirely.

But to her surprise, he shook his head. “Oh, I believe in love. I know exactly how crippling it can be. That’s why I don’t want you to imagine you’ve fallen in love with me.”

“Okay,” she said, torn between wanting to reassure him, without telling him outright that she had absolutely no intention of risking her heart. Finally, she made the only counteroffer she could think of. “Then don’t fall in love with me either.”

He studied her for a moment, slowly smiling. Her chin bumped up a notch. “What? You think you’re above falling in love with me? I’ll have you know I’m very loveable.” Arching an eyebrow, she said, “I’m cute. And plucky. Greater men than you have fallen in love with me.” “I’m sure they have.”

“You think I’m joking?” she demanded, all fake belligerence.

“Not for a minute,” Jonathon conceded. And the really pathetic things was, he was being honest. In this moment, watching her trying to cajole him into laughing, it was all too easy to imagine falling in love with her. Smart, funny, never taking herself too seriously. Wendy was the whole package. Men who wanted things like a wife and family were probably waiting in line for a woman like her. Too bad he wasn’t one of them.

“Just don’t forget why I’m doing this. This isn’t a favor to you. This isn’t because I’m a nice guy. Don’t romanticize me. Don’t forget, not even for a minute, why I’m here. Why I’m doing this.”

She looked up at him, her eyes wide, her expression suddenly serious but a little bemused, as if she had no idea where he was going with this. “Remind me then. Why are you doing this?”

He was struck—not for the first time—that she wasn’t merely cute, but truly beautiful. With her swoopy little button nose and her pixie dimples, her face had more than its share of cuteness. But she was also lovely, with her dark—almost violet—blue eyes and her luminous skin. Her beauty had an ephemeral quality to it. Like a woman in a Maxfield Parrish painting.

He was so struck by her beauty that for a second, he forgot her question. Forgot that he was trying to direct this conversation. To remind her that he wasn’t some hero.

“I’m doing this for the same reason I’ve done everything else since I was eleven. I’m doing this because it serves my own goals. It serves FMJ.”

She gave him an odd look, as something almost like pity flickered across her expression. “If you didn’t want me to romanticize you, then maybe you shouldn’t have tried to give me a big nasty chunk of your fortune. So I’m going to reserve the right to think you’re not the heartless bastard you pretend to be.”

“You have to believe me when I tell you that everything I’ve done for you was for my own benefit. Keeping you in California was the best thing for FMJ. Marrying you is the best thing for FMJ. That’s the only reason I’m doing it.”

Finally she nodded. “Okay. If you want to keep insisting you’re so coldhearted, then I’ll try to remind myself as often as possible. We’ll start with the prenup, okay? We’ll ask Randy to rewrite it so I have to pay you twenty percent of my money. How does that sound?” She smiled as she asked, but it looked strained.

“Wendy—” he started.

“At the very least, we’ll put Randy out of his misery. We’ll go with the bare-bones prenup. Everyone walks away with what they had when they came into the marriage.”

He sighed. It wasn’t what he wanted. Not by a long shot. But he was starting to realize that when it came to Wendy, he wasn’t ever going to get what he wanted.

She paused at the door and looked over her shoulder, her forehead furrowed in thought. “The thing is, Jonathon, if you really were a heartless bastard, you wouldn’t have warned me off.”