Robyn Grady - Bargaining for Baby / The Billionaire's Baby Arrangement

His thumb ran down her throat as he sipped and tasted and explored. When his mouth reluctantly left hers and her heavy eyelids opened, his eyes were smiling into hers. A delicious full-body quiver ran through her blood. She was light-headed, dizzy. Had Jack truly just kissed her? Had she truly kissed him back? On one level she couldn’t digest the reality. The possibility that he would embrace her, gift her with the world’s steamiest kiss, didn’t compute. And yet as she stood now looking up into the shadowed perfection of his face, improbability faded into another understanding.

Her belly felt heavy with a need that acknowledged only deep physical desire. She wanted his mouth on hers again. With a longing she hadn’t known she was capable of, she wanted his lips on her neck, on her breasts.

He stole another light, lingering kiss from the side of her mouth before his lips skimmed her jaw. “See what I mean about that full moon?”

His hand slid down her spine to circle the sensitive dip low in her back and the urge to coil her fingers up through his hair and mold herself against him became overpowering. Every labored breath compounded the desire building in her blood. Every thought confirmed that this felt way too good to let go.

How a bit of common sense survived the fire ripping through her veins, Maddy couldn’t say. She didn’t want to listen to reason. She only wanted to know his kiss again and again. And yet the danger … the dishonesty of this situation was as apparent as the aching desire. As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t ignore the harm this kind of scene could and would do.

Finding her strength and her breath, she angled her head away. “This isn’t right.”

With a knuckle, he coaxed her mouth back to his. “This is very right.”

When he drew her bottom lip into his mouth and the shaft behind his zipper flexed against her belly, her resolve slipped like hot wax spilling down a candle. The urge to give in was so sweet and so strong … but she couldn’t ignore what was most important.

She pushed against his sturdy chest. “Jack, what about Tara?”

They needed to keep this complicated time as uncomplicated as they could. Yes, she was physically drawn to Jack—she’d like to meet a woman who wouldn’t be. But a kiss would lead to more—to dark heady places she wasn’t prepared to go. She wanted some kind of future with Beau. The last thing she needed was an ill-planned night hanging over her head and a stepmother who would then have good reason for suspicion.

He’d been so intense, so driven, she half expected him to ignore the obvious question. But he surprised her. Comprehension dawned in his eyes. His head pulled slowly back and his gaze searched hers as if he were coming out of a daze. When the horse whinnied again, he took a step away and his previously insistent palm left her back. His hand found the V at his opened collar and his gaze speared through her, as though he were seeing someone else.

His deep voice rumbled through the shadows.

“You should go inside.”

A shiver chased up her spine. His face looked changed. almost vulnerable. Gingerly, she touched his strong hot arm but his intense expression didn’t change.

He said again, “You should go.”

Then he wove around her toward the stable.

Later, as she lay awake in bed staring at the ceiling, she heard the retreating beat of hooves. Still glowing from the feel of him, still buzzing from the high, she rolled over and lightly touched her lips.

She thought she’d been kissed before. Thought she knew what desire was … how it felt to be on fire.

She’d been wrong.

The next morning, Jack drove into Hawksborough, a town that pretty much consisted of a main street lined with Leopard trees, a federation-style library, town hall and courthouse, and a series of fading shop fronts which led to the Shangri-la Motel.

Parked in front of Bruce’s Barber’s, a residence which co-let to Hawsborough’s only bank, Jack swung out of the driver’s side of his four-wheel drive and absorbed the town’s aura of timelessness. Sue had loved this place almost as much as she’d loved the station. If he ever came in, Sue would, too, to catch up with the locals then veg out in the town square, working her way through one of her tomes. Sue had been as laid back as supper on Sundays.

Sophisticated Madison Tyler, on the other hand, fit in more with canapés and cocktails at five. She would find Hawksborough’s sole set of traffic lights and single movie theater gauche. Possibly unsettling. Maddy cared about what happened to Dahlia’s baby—he respected her for that—but as soon as her job here was done she’d be gone, back to the city and “civilization”. Thirteen more days.

And nights.

As he removed his hat and crossed into the Shangri-la foyer, Jack knew he could fool himself and say he understood why he’d cast off proper conduct last night: he’d wanted to sample an intriguing wine, just a taste. He’d kissed Maddy. Had enjoyed the act immensely. Curiosity supposedly done and dusted. Trouble was, while all this rationalizing had been taking place, he’d forgotten about Tara. About the commitment he’d made to her. And that just wasn’t him.

That Maddy was so different from Sue, from Tara—from any woman he’d known—might be a reason for his behavior but it wasn’t an excuse. He felt off-center around her. Couldn’t seem to shake her from his thoughts. At four this morning he’d finally figured out what needed to be done and how he should do it.

Now he strode up to Mrs. Claudia, the friendly gray-haired receptionist he’d known all his life. She slid the Life crossword to one side of the mahogany desk and they exchanged pleasantries about her aging canary and the lack of rain. Then he dialed up to the room Tara took whenever she stayed in town.

When she picked up on the second ring, Jack braced his shoulders. “Tara, I need to see you.”

There was a moment’s pause before a sigh came down the line. “Jack, it’s you. Thank God. Come up.”

From her thready tone, something wasn’t right in her world. He could guess what. But as he set off for the vintage elevator, Jack knew he couldn’t let any bad news delay his own.

When Tara opened her door, her hair was as glossy as usual but her eyes didn’t hold their normal fire. She lifted a large envelope and gave a jaded smile.

“Hendrix’s X-rays. There’s a small cyst on his hock. In my opinion, and the vet’s, nothing to worry about.” She flung the envelope on the TV stand. “But the buyer wants a cut in price.”

“Three hundred G’s is a lot for a horse,” he said, hanging his hat on the hatstand.

“Not for a brilliant jumper.” Then her dark eyes softened and an inviting smile curved her lips. “But let’s not talk about that.”

She took his hand and led him toward the bed. Jack kept his eyes straight ahead but even a blind man couldn’t miss her attire: a short, pale pink silk wrap. From the outline, she was naked underneath.

She drew him toward the foot of the unmade bed. Positioning herself close, she wove her hands up his shirt front then, closing her eyes, she reached on tiptoe to rub her nose with his.

“It’s so good to see you.” Her fingers flexed in his shirt as she murmured, “Will I order up some breakfast?”

“I’ve eaten.”

She opened her eyes at his tone and angled her head. “I need to apologize for the way I acted yesterday. But, you have to understand, I was taken aback. The last thing I expected to see was a baby—” she lowered to sit on the rumpled sheet “—or another woman.” Twining her fingers with his, she urged him to sit beside her. “But I should’ve shown more control. You’re right. We need to speak about this in private.” She pivoted toward him, her wrap slipped but she didn’t cover her thigh. “How do you feel about raising Dahlia’s son?”